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A Veil of Prophecy
Chapter 3
Two years later…
It was still snowing. Or was it yet? Maekar had lost count of the many times the thick white mass had started and stopped pouring for the last weeks. They were just about to rejoice in the slightly warm weather when the snowing would start anew. From his vantage point up on the castle battlement, he stared out upon the frozen beauty and willed it to cover the army under their walls, to tear the black three-headed dragon on their banners. Of course, snow did not listen… But it had covered the sights Maekar hated most – the newly dug graves in the outer yards, the hollows in the earth where missiles had landed. From the stables, a few cats were mewing – they were hungry. Well, they are not the only ones, the Prince thought.
The cold soon forced him to seek shelter inside, not that it made much difference. There were only the beds and a few tables left to them – they had burned everything else to warm themselves. As he was entering the great hall of High Bridge, Maekar saw Shiera Seastar gliding out, as graceful as ever. But she was shivering slightly, rubbing her hands together, as cold as any of them. Her face was gaunt with malnourishment and the recent illness, her waxy complexion could not be concealed even by her famed beauty. He had thought he'd like to see her like this – he had never liked any of the so called Great Bastards, and now least of all – and he was surprised to find out that he felt pity for her. She was another victim of the bloody rebellion – Shiera Seastar who Maekar had thought could never be a victim of anything. But he was glad that she held true to the rationing of warmth they had established. They kept fires burning only in the kitchen and the great hall, for they lacked firewood. And the great hall could not contain everyone, so they warmed themselves in turns. Only the ailing could stay near the open hearth all the time – and these were growing in number, so there were always a few figures wrapped in blankets near the flame. But once they had recovered from their fever, both Shiera and Aelinor had joined the ranks of those with rationed food and warmth. Maekar saw his sister coming through the other door to take her share.
The faces around him were grim and gaunt – and one less than they should have been. "Where is Baelor?" Maekar asked sharply, holding out his hands for warmth.
"I am here," his brother said from behind Aelinor. His eyes still glistened with fever. Three months ago, the court had continued on its way from Summerhall to King's Landing, leaving Aelinor and Shiera who were battling fever, with their attendants. Maekar and Baelor had come from two different directions with the news that Daemon Blackfyre had declared himself the rightful king – and he had followed suit. The fact that the Crown Prince was in High Bridge meant that the siege should last till the castle surrender – and they didn't want to, although by now they had eaten their own horses one by one. Maekar had hated that. But they had no more grain to feed the animals and less and less to feed themselves, so the horses had followed the castle livestock. In the middle of all that, Baelor had taken ill with the fever the girls had just recovered from.
"You should be near the fire," Maekar told his brother. "It is for the ailing."
"Which I am not," Baelor said. "Not any more."
"Well, that's a lie if I ever heard one…" Maekar muttered. "Have you eaten?"
Baelor shrugged. "I figured I'd better wait for my portion along with the others."
"You would," Maekar spat, hunger and anxiety driving him to attack the nearest target which just happened to be his brother. "You realize that should you die, we can as well just open the gates to Blackfyre?"
They were on strict rationing and the young Targaryens had contributed greatly to the people's morale by insisting that the meager provisions be shared equally. Usually highborn took more than what they were justly due. But Baelor had been treated as an ill man, not a fighting warrior. Now he seemed ready to remedy the situation… when he was just not strong enough to and Maekar was furious with him. Should they lose Baelor to the illness or Blackfyre, they would surely lose the war. The young heir to scholarly Daeron was the one thing that held the loyalty to half of those who were still loyal… which took Maekar back to what he intended to do. "Come on," he said and looked at his brother and sister to indicate that he meant both. "You too, Galend," he added to his companion. Ser Galend who was nursing a wound on his sword arm near the fireplace, rose silently and followed. "Send Lord Rivers to my chamber," he ordered a nearby servant.
"And Lady Shiera," Aelinor said and he sighed. She was right, of course. Shiera might not have as much to lose as the rest of them – Bittersteel would make it sure – but she was still with them. Still loyal. She had the right to know. And besides, if he didn't tell her, Bloodraven would.
"And Lady Shiera," he agreed and led the way to the staircase.
"What do you have in mind?" Baelor asked curiously.
Maekar was still angry with him, though, so he spat, "Sometimes requiring that you eat."
Behind his back, Baelor and Aelinor looked at each other exasperated.
In Maekar's chamber, by now stripped of any furniture but the bed, they found Ser Willem Wylde and Ser Ronald Crackehall, the two Kingsguard caught in the siege with them. Lord High Bridge soon arrived, followed by Shiera Seastar and Bloodraven. In the cold that frosted their breath in the air, Brynden Rivers' skin looked even paler, as if he were already dead. The castle's old maester huffed and puffed while he was struggling with the stairs but finally there he was.
"So?" Baelor asked again. "Will you finally tell us what's going on?"
"What's going on is that the people here have endured enough." Maekar pulled his cloak tighter. He had long ago stopped finding it odd that he went fully cloaked and hooded in his own bedchamber. "Another two weeks, and we'll all be dead from hunger. Father would have sent help if he could but obviously his people are engaged elsewhere."
There were a few grim nods at this. The lack of news was one of the things that tormented them most. Daemon's people shot all the ravens coming toward the castle, so they were desperate for news and could rely only on their intuition.
"It's time to put an end to this," Maekar said. "My lord High Bridge, you should offer to surrender the castle. I feel sure that you'll be able to get generous terms from the pretender, that he'd let the garrison go free."
Everyone looked at him stunned. Ser Willem's jaw actually dropped. Baelor recovered fast, though, and his shock was replaced by curiosity. "I cannot believe that you'd suggest surrender. You know what will happen if Daemon lays his hands on both of us. So I ask you once again, what do you have in mind?"
Maekar smiled, pleased that someone understood. He had no intention of surrendering, no intention of sticking the kingdom with only Aerys and Rhaegel as heirs, not counting the children because the others would not count them either. No, that would be disastrous."Well, I am planning an escape before the castle surrenders. The three of us won't be here when Blackfyre comes." He indicated himself, Baelor, and, to everyone's shock, Bloodraven.
"Escape?" Baelor asked. "How? By flying over the wall?"
"Almost." Maekar smiled again, the plan sounding more and more attractive as he relayed it. "We'll be lowered down from the tower on the moat… it is iced-over, right? Everything around is frozen solid – the earth, the streams. We should be able to reach Storm's End in safety."
"Absolutely not!" the maester cut in. "The Prince cannot go there, in the cold! He'll die."
"As I see it, I'll die anyway," Baelor said. "I don't have much to lose." He turned to his brother. "So you are proposing to walk right through Daemon's lines?"
Maekar barely resisted the urge to shift his weight. Now, as he heard it spoken aloud, the idea did not sound so great. "Yes, I do."
"This is the maddest idea I've ever heard," Baelor judged and grinned. "When do we try it?"
"Your Grace!" the maester protested.
Maekar looked at his brother and laughed. As annoyingly perfect as Baelor was, he was the one who understood, always. It was strangely… soothing. "Tonight… after it is full moon. If we are lucky, it will still be snowing, so there won't be any traces left of our passing."
"I am surprised that you have included me," Bloodraven put in smoothly. Maekar's dislike of him was no secret to anyone.
Maekar glared at him. "You can stay here and greet the traitors if you like," he snapped. The fact that Blackfyre and Bittersteel had a special hatred reserved for their half-brother was no secret either. He could expect no mercy of them. Especially of Bittersteel. "But I don't leave people behind."
"Still, you seem ready to leave us," Aelinor said calmly. Her lips were blue with cold. A few years ago, Maekar would have taken her in his arms to share their warmth. Now he could only offer her an extra cloak. "I have no desire to become a pawn in Daemon's hands either. Or rather, those who tell him what he should think."
"It isn't the same thing," Maekar said.
"I know. I know I am not as precious as you two are…"
"I am not saying this…"
"But I will not become Daemon's captive either, Maekar. No, I am coming with you."
"You are not," her brothers said at the same time. "It might cost you your life, Aelinor," Baelor went on. "Daemon is not our only enemy, the weather is also one of these."
She shook her head under the hood. "Father cannot be seen making any concessions to get me back. They already think him weak. And while I have no doubt that Daemon won't hurt me, I don't think he needs a jewel to his victory."
"Her Grace is right," Ser Roland said reluctantly. "We should take her with us."
Baelor and Maekar looked at each other and both sighed resigned. "But to you," Maekar snapped at Shiera. "There is no argument. It is bad enough with one woman with us. I won't have two of you."
She smiled. "That's fine," she said. "I might kill Aegor when he's sleeping."
Bloodraven's head jerked up sharply. "She's coming along," he said.
"Fine," Maekar spat and glared at the two women. "But if you slow us down, I am leaving you behind and that's it!"
They both nodded. "And now," Shiera said and smiled brightly. "I think we'd better start sewing cloaks. White cloaks." She winked at Ser Willem who turned red. He was still young enough to be unable to resist her charm. "I've always liked you in white."
Two days later…
"Open up," Maekar shouted, "for the Crown Prince!"
The guard at the massive wall of Storm's End did not answer immediately, probably too stunned by such a foolish statement. "The Crown Prince is under siege at High Bridge," he finally yelled back. "What are you trying to achieve by spreading such tales?"
Baelor willed his teeth to stop clattering and failed. Since they had bought horses in a town near High Bridge – only four since the three royals and the two bastards did not dare show themselves because of their too recognizable features and Ser Willem, Ser Ronald and the local lad who was guiding them could not very well buy eight without rising suspicions – they had traveled and traveled, fighting the cold and in his case, the fever that still lingered. All he wanted was a hot bath and something to eat and this man was the last thing that stood between him and his heart's desire. He reached up and pulled back the hood of his cloak, then did the same with Maekar's who was in front of him on the horse. The guard saw their faces, gave a yelp of surprise and a moment later, a horn sounded.
"I swear," Bloodraven muttered as they rode to the lowering drawbridge, "I'll never hear the phrase When hell freezes over without remembering these two days."
A day later…
"Where are they!"
The men of the surrendered garrison were trying to keep a low profile but an enraged Daemon Blackfyre was truly an impressive sight, all silver rage and flashing sword.
"I told you," Lord High Bridge said as meekly as he could. "They aren't here."
"Well, they must be!" Daemon spat and spun around, as if he expected his intended captives to spring out of nowhere, although he knew that had they been here, they would have been the first one he'd meet. Baelor Breakspear was not the one to hole in expecting the strike to fall. Daemon had always respected that about him and he had had no desire to humiliate him or Maekar, or even Bloodraven. Aegor had been the one anticipating their meeting with a great deal of gloating pleasure... and anticipation, regarding a certain half-sister of theirs. But now, things had changed. Now, he'd push them at their knees and keep them there until they fall down with exhaustion… as soon as Aegor and the other men looking for them returned…
Among the garrison, Ser Galend smiled, enjoying the panic among the men who were running up and down, looking for the prizes that had escaped and shouting in anger and frustration. No, he was glad now that his prince had left him here to nurse the arm that had been almost separated from his body right before the beginning of the siege. He would not have missed this for all the whores in King's Landing.
He would not have liked to be in Lord High Bridge's shoes, though. At the end of it, the man might find himself well castleless. Blackfyre's men were all but tearing High Bridge apart. He should really inform Maekar about the lord's plea, assuming that he lived to see the Prince again and the Prince lived to reach Storm's End while there was still warmth in his body, and Galendsomehow escaped Blackfyre's rage which was no sure thing at all because right now the Black Dragon seemed ready to break his sworn word and hang all Targaryen's men…
Someone grabbed him and shook him so hard that the arm that was far from healed almost fell down. Purple eyes met his. "Where are they!" Aegor Bittersteel snarled.
Numb with pain but far from intimidated, Ser Galend even smiled. "I do not know. Have you tried Lady Shiera and Lord Brynden's bedchamber?"
In a moment, Bittersteel drew his sword. But Blackfyre spun around and stopped his brother with a commanding gesture. "You do not draw sword to a man who cannot defend himself," he snapped.
Bittersteel shook with rage but stepped aside. Blackfyre squinted at Ser Galend. "I know who you are," he said. "I know you've been with Maekar for a very long time. I am stunned that he could leave you behind like this. Didn't he fear for your safety at all?"
"He knew you would not harm a wounded man," Ser Galend said calmly.
"Did he!"
This time, Ser Galend decided it was time to stop trying the traitor's patience.
"Look!" someone cried out. "It has finally stopped snowing."
By now, all traces of the runaways had been well and truly erased. Ser Galend smiled.
