Lewyn Martell, sometime Prince of Dorne and now a knight of the Kingsguard, paced softly in front of the door to his niece's chambers. Elia had borne up magnificently under the strain of her husband's attempted abduction of the Stark girl and his subsequent capture, as well as the civil war, but long days of walking on eggshells around Aerys left her exhausted. Thankfully, Aerys hadn't yet decided to punish her for Doran's sluggishness in responding to the royal call to arms, but Lewyn knew it was only a matter of time, especially after the disaster that had befallen young Connington and left King's Landing all but defenseless except for the gold cloaks. If Elia came to harm because of Doran's mulishness, Lewyn vowed, his nephew would rue the day he was born. He, Lewyn Martell, would make sure of it.
He turned about to pace back up the hall and found himself face to face with a man half a head taller than him. He snatched at his sword and drew breath to shout an alarm, but the stranger seized him at wrist and throat with a vise-like grip so that his sword remained sheathed and his shout died stillborn. He went for his dagger but the hand at his throat squeezed and clouds gathered on the edge of his vision.
"Leave it," the stranger commanded softly. "I like your style, but if you rush me, I will kill you. I have a few questions that I need you to answer. Blink once for yes and twice for no. Do you understand me?"
Lewyn blinked. He had no idea what the stranger intended, but if he needed him to answer questions, then he needed him alive. As long as he remained alive, he still had a chance to protect Elia.
"First question, then. Are you Lewyn Martell of the Kingsguard?"
Lewyn blinked.
"Good. Second question. Do you want to get your niece and her children out of this stinking shithole of a city and someplace safe?"
Lewyn blinked. If Elia and her children could be got to safety, then King's Landing could burn to the ground for all he cared.
"Good. Because that is my mission here, and it would be a lot easier for me if I had your help. Do I have your word as a Kingsguard and a prince of Dorne that you will not try to kill me or raise the alarm?"
Lewyn blinked once, doing his level best to give the stranger a look of offended dignity. The stranger nodded and released his grip, although he quickly grabbed Lewyn under the armpits to keep him from falling to his knees as he dragged air into his lungs. The stranger's casual strength was astonishing. The strongest man that Lewyn knew personally was Ser Gerold, the Lord Commander, and the White Bull's strength was like that of a green boy compared to whoever this was. He steadied his legs under him, drew himself up, and inclined his head to the stranger. "Prince Lewyn Martell, knight of the Kingsguard, at your service. Whom do I have the honor of addressing?"
"Barnes, James Buchanan, Sergeant, Pathfinder Company, Army of the North," the stranger said. "Call me Bucky. Is your niece and her children in there?" He tipped his head at the door. Lewyn nodded. So this was the Sergeant Barnes who had killed Arthur and Oswell and captured Rhaegar. He could easily believe it. "I have a way out, but we need to get going, now."
Lewyn nodded, crossed over to the door, and softly rapped the back of his gauntlet against the wood in the pattern he and Elia had devised to let her know it was him. She barely had time to bid him come in before he pushed the door open. Elia rose from the chair where she had evidently just finished nursing little Aegon, her face a mask of studied emotionlessness. "What is it, Uncle?" she asked, her voice carefully neutral.
"Elia, I need you to trust me," Lewyn said seriously. "Get your walking shoes on and get Rhaenys awake, dressed, and ready to go. We are leaving."
"Leaving?" Elia asked, shock coloring her voice. "Uncle, what are you . . ." her voice trailed off as Barnes entered the room. "Who are you?" she asked, evidently startled but nonetheless defiant as she held her son to her.
"Princess Elia," Barnes said softly, "I have a message for you from your brother." His eyes slid out of focus and his voice took on a measured quality as he began to recite, evidently from memory. "'Elia, I have come to an agreement with the Lords Declarant that, in return for your safety and the safety of your children, as well as their recognition and consideration of Aegon's claim on the Iron Throne, I will keep Dorne out of this war. The man who carries this message to you is Sergeant Barnes, who is the best man that the Lords Declarant have in their service. Jon Arryn vouches for him, as does Lord Stark. Trust him, I beg you, for your children's sake. All my love, Doran.'" Barnes' eyes refocused and he stared at Elia. "Convinced, your Grace?"
Elia nodded and set Aegon down. "Uncle, will you get Rhaenys up?" she asked as she matter-of-factly re-laced her dress, ignoring how Barnes suddenly took an interest in the wall just over her head. Lewyn was already walking over to Rhaenys's room as he nodded. Five minutes later, Rhaenys was awake and dressed and Lewyn was carrying her out of her room. Elia had Aegon in a sling across her chest and had thrown a dark cloak over her shoulders while Barnes had his back against the wall by the door, evidently straining his ears. Elia finished fastening her cloak and walked over to cup Rhaenys's cheek in her fine-boned hand. "Sweetling, I need you to come with us and be very quiet. Can you do that for me?" Rhaenys nodded drowsily, at which Elia kissed her and then drew away, nodding to Barnes. "Ready to go, Sergeant Barnes," she said determinedly, cradling Aegon in his sling.
Barnes nodded, peered out into the corridor, and then beckoned for them to follow him as he padded into the corridor. Elia and Lewyn followed him, walking as quietly as they could. At the end of the corridor they were joined by a short man with lank brown hair that seemed to materialize out of a shadow and pass Barnes a double crossbow, which Barnes accepted with a nod and brought up to his shoulder without breaking stride or glancing aside, still moving as quietly as a viper. The short man, who Lewyn deemed to be a crannogman by his short stature, nodded at Lewyn and Elia and lifted a crossbow of his own, taking up position abreast of Barnes, who sidestepped to make room for his compatriot.
As the little party made their way through the Red Keep, Lewyn's respect for Barnes grew by the minute as he noted how the two northmen slid forward in a hunched, gliding walk that kept their crossbows aimed steadily down the corridor; how, when they came to an intersection, they would slow to a halt, slowly pivot around the corners to peer down the corridor, crossbows still at the ready, and only then jerk their heads to alert Lewyn and Elia to walk on; and how, when they came to a flight of stairs, they would first peer over the banister before descending. Every move they made all but shouted of well-honed skills long in the forging.
Twenty nerve-racking minutes later, Barnes brought them to a halt outside a door and lightly rapped on it in a strange, syncopated rhythm. It opened to reveal another crannogman with a loaded crossbow, who aimed it at Barnes' face. "Thunder," Barnes said coolly, as if being held at quarrel point was an everyday occurrence.
"Flash," the crannogman replied, lowering his crossbow and stepping aside. "Come in," he urged, ushering them in. Lewyn was amazed to see that not only were there seven more crannogmen in the room, which was apparently a bedchamber, but also Varys the Spider, who had two crossbows trained on him and seemed to find it mildly amusing.
"Your Graces, welcome to my humble abode," he simpered. "I hope you'll forgive me for not rising; these men are under orders to shoot me if I try to leave this chair. I gave them my word I wouldn't try anything untoward, but apparently a eunuch's word isn't worth very much these days."
"I never trust a spy," Barnes said shortly, "Especially one who's betraying his employer over a matter of principle. Your Graces, we don't have time for questions. I want to get as far away from here as we can before sunrise." He gestured at a staircase in the back wall of the room. "If you please."
Elia stepped towards the Spider, ignoring the crossbows, and curtsied. "Thank you for this, Lord Varys," she said simply. "If ever you need aid, call on House Martell and invoke my name and the names of my children."
Varys bowed low in his chair. "Gods keep you, your Grace, and your children as well." He straightened, eyes twinkling. "And may I be the first to say, 'Long live King Aegon, the Sixth of His Name.'"
Elia turned away and followed the first trio of crannogmen down the staircase. Lewyn walked up to the staircase, paused, and turned back to the Spider. "Why?" he asked simply. "Aerys trusts none more than you, except for Rossart. Why are you betraying him?"
"As I told the good sergeant, Prince Lewyn, I serve the Realm. Not Aerys, not Rhaegar, not House Targaryen, the Realm." Varys shrugged. "Someone must; so many people will sell their souls to serve a Great House such as yours but so few will serve the Realm that it needs all the servants it can get." His lips quirked into a half-smile. "Even fat eunuchs like yours truly."
Lewyn spent the rest of the night considering the eunuch's words, even while he walked down the tunnel, passed through its exit at the base of the cliffs below Maegor's Holdfast, and boarded a small boat that carried them across the Blackwater Rush to meet a clump of grey-cloaked riders with extra horses who guided them up the Blackwater Rush away from the smell of King's Landing.
Author's note: So basically, the Royal Army of the Crownlands has been swept away and the Martell's have defected. Just one aside before moving on to the reactions to this.
One reviewer asked why Bucky doesn't just assassinate Aerys. To which my answer is, sure he could assassinate Aerys, but why would he want to? So long as Aerys is alive, he's a walking propaganda factory for the Lords Declarant, whose rebellion is predicated on the insanity and general unfitness to rule of the current management and his designated successor. If Aerys dies, then the visible figurehead of the royalists is Viserys, who is six at this point in time; the only person he's given cause to rebel at this point is his nursemaid. Essentially, it's a lot easier for the Lords Declarant to justify rebelling against Aerys than it is for them to justify rebelling against Viserys.
