I don't own Ranma or George R. R. Martin's work. If I did, let's just say the first would be very different and by this point the second would be done... and no, saying that never gets old.
I have looked into the majority of fics revolving around Daenerys and Robb (not pairing just one of the other as a main character) and found them sorely lacking. In fact there was only one or two that were any good, by which I mean not getting caught up in the drama/angst. I would like to read a story that concentrates on the warfare side of things as well as being Robb centric, but haven't found one, so if anyone has one they can think of, PM me the name of it. Mind you, I have pretty high standards for combat and warfare scenes/setup LOL. They are the scenes that come easiest to me, oddly enough.
Speaking of which, I was amused by how many reviews mentioned my impression of the longbow. I assure those worried about it that I don't think the longbow is a war winning weapon (except in the old game Lords of the Realm 2, heh), and others that I do know how good a weapon it truly is, I was more arguing that it is the tactics and strategy that wins, not a specific weapon's use. Also I wanted to make the point that cavalry is not on its own as effective as many people think. The roman infantry and combat engineers carved them an empire, which their later use of cavalry could not enlarge much. And whatever else, charges against prepared heavy infantry, that is infantry wielding polearms, have never worked unless the infantry formation was already broken. Cavalry has its place, but there is a reason infantry are called the kings of the battlefield, men on foot are simply more adaptable, and much less expensive, a horse eats more than a man after all, and cannot be grazed on the land and perform at their peak. In Westeros, the point is made several times that even among the Northerners, the cavalrymen were seen as 'more important' than the infantry, because many of them were nobles and knights. That will not be the case going forward.
A combined arms force, which uses all the disparate units under its command as a unified, organized force, is far more dangerous than an enemy that relies overmuch on one tactic or one arm of their army.
I also got my first flame for this story! It was from a nameless guest, and basically said the story had turned to shit, then said the protagonist was dickless and an idiot. Wow. Someone put in a lot of work to come up with that. Really. LOL. So, yeah, dude, your review was deleted with prejudice.
I would like to give a shout out to Jessolt for his beta-reading. Without him this chapter, like my other works he has looked at, would not be nearly as good as they are. We are both human which means we no doubt missed some mistakes here and there, but it would be much worse without his efforts.
Warning: Bad things start to happen in this chapter, warning you all now.
Chapter 7: The Pebbles Start Falling
"You had best have a convincing reason for my daughter not being with you, Oberyn, or else I may have to do away with the only remaining sibling I have." Prince Doran's voice was level, yet dangerous, his eyes locked on his hotheaded younger brother, who, for some reason, was carrying something covered by a cloth under one arm.
"Ah, but first, brother dear, I need to get you into a better mood to hear me out." Despite his brother's icy anger, Oberyn's voice was jaunty, full of good humor. "Ah, even the two week's voyage from King's Landing hasn't diminished my pleasure in this. There is nothing, nothing at all like a vendetta fulfilled!"
He went on, his voice suddenly becoming much more serious as he moved the box from where he had been carrying it under his arm, holding it with one hand underneath as the other gripped the loose cloth that covered it. "Doran, may I present… the head of the Mountain that Rode!" With that, he removed the cloth with a flourish, presenting the preserved head of the hated Ser Gregor, preserved in the blue fluid the alchemists had prepared to his brother.
Doran's eyes widened. His lips, which had been locked in a thin frown now quickly formed a grin, such a grin the likes of which he hadn't shown since boyhood. He leaned forward, taking the glass container from his brother reverently.
Turning it this way and that, he examined the head inside minutely, part of him almost certain this was a trick. After a moment, he looked up at his brother once more. "As an opening gambit to keep your own head on your shoulders, this would indeed take some beating, Oberyn." There was even a hint of true humor in Doran's voice but he had some control of himself again, which showed in his sharp old eyes. "It seems as if we have more to talk about than just my wayward daughter. What exactly is going on in King's Landing?"
"That will be quite a telling, brother, and all of it centers around Ranma Stark, his father, and the effect they are having on the halls of power." Oberyn chuckled, shaking his head. "And that in turn is tied up with what your daughter is up to presently."
From there Oberyn went on to describe what he had seen occurring in King's Landing, not only about Ranma and his execution of the Mountain but all that he had heard or seen for himself. He didn't know everything, not having made any contacts in the court but he knew about Eddard's anti-corruption campaign and how many enemies it was winning Lord Stark.
He also knew that while there seemed to be friendship between Ranma and Margaery, the Rose of House Tyrell was also playing for the Crown Prince. And he had seen the friendship, almost the squire-ship, between the youngest Baratheon and Ranma. Oberyn had also noticed how unlike their father any of the Royal children seemed in countenance, though how alike in spirit they were he had no way of knowing.
Through all this, his older brother listened silently, asking no questions. Occasionally, Doran could not stop his eyes from twitching over to the head in its container, but he always turned away. He was a Prince, the ruler of his kingdom. He could not allow himself to be swayed by something like that, no matter how long his hatred for his sister's butchers had simmered. In that, Doran was utterly unlike his hotheaded kin.
Doran also knew things, plans going forward that he had long since made with allies both in Essos and Westeros that made any idea of allying with the Starks premature. Let the wolves beard the lions in their den and weaken both families. A scorpion knows how to wait, to plan, and to hide until it is in position to deal a fatal blow.
Oberyn finished by saying. "And so brother, I think Arianne is on the right track. Influencing the Stark heir can influence young Tommen, killing two birds with one arrow, let alone gaining us an ally. Tyrell has overreached badly. If we can but take advantage of their arrogance, step forward with our own offer, a real one, to House Stark, then we will gain much influence over the usurper's own household."
"You think we should prioritize our vengeance against the Lannisters over House Baratheon?" Doran said coolly. "Remember it was the Usurper's war that allowed the Lannisters to betray their rightful King and all that happened to our sister and her children. Do not forget that the Starks stood beside Robert, though their reasons, even I will admit, were better than most. Yet even so, I will not ally with the House of honorable fools. You said it yourself, House Stark is making enemies in King's Landing, and even a direwolf can be pulled down by enough hyenas. Let the wolf and lion savage one another, we can wait."
"I am sick to death of waiting!" Oberyn shouted, standing up suddenly and smashing his fist down on the small desk Gregor's head rested on at present. Luckily, the desk was a sturdy affair and withstood his blow. "Wait, wait, wait, that is all you ever council, Doran! We have done nothing but wait for far too long! Dorne is seen as a joke now, a barbaric land with a coward for a ruler! We must risk something to gain anything, brother."
"Besides, the Baratheons without the Lannisters, or even with the Lannisters badly weakened, will be much easier to destroy! Robert is a drunkard, drinking himself into an early grave. Joffrey is a buffoon, arrogant and egotistical, and, as I said, if we influence Ranma, his influence on Tommen could turn the family into an ally for us. Renly is a fop, a toy knight who knows nothing of war outside the tourney and Stannis is so cold, I doubt he could muster enough humanity to rally more than a few of the Stormlands' lords to him."
Doran kept his cool with the ease of long practice in front of his brother's bluster. "And Tywin? What of him? He is no fool, and he has undoubtedly already taken action against the Starks for their daring to remove one of his best tools. You make the error of seeing their influence in King's Landing as the source of their power. Brother, I assure you it is not. So long as Tywin lives and has control of the gold mines in Westerlands, his power will remain unchanged. No, I will send a message to one of my factors in King's Landing to find and remove Arianne and your daughters from the city as quickly as possible. Regardless of how good you think this Ranma is, he cannot be everywhere nor is he proof against arrows or other means of attack."
He paused for a moment, staring sternly at his oh-so-much younger brother. Such happened when all the children between the youngest and oldest of a family died but it was at moments like this that brought it to his attention. "There are plans in motion, Oberyn, plans that have been moving for years now, plans that have just recently begun to bear fruit. I will not act precipitously when waiting a little longer may bring us an ally with which we can have our justice in full."
Oberyn scowled but saw Doran wasn't about to share more details of these plans with him he nodded abruptly. He stalked off angrily before he could say anything they would both regret, leaving Doran alone to contemplate the future, his plans, and the head of one of his House's enemies. Let there soon be many more heads beside this one. The winds of change are blowing; one only needs to know how to harness them…
OOOOOOO
Almost at the same moment, Oberyn was speaking to Doran, two weeks before Ranma left for Pentos, another Lord Paramount was contemplating the news of King's Landing. Though in his case, he knew quite a bit more than Oberyn had been able to discern, right from the wolf's mouth, so to speak.
Despite his body failing him, Hoster Tully's mind was still sharp and could discern the most important bits from the news Jason Mallister had just imparted to him. The Lord of Seagard had stopped in Riverrun on his way back to his demesne, to speak to his ruler about his grandson and what was going on in King's Landing.
"Ned's overreaching." Hoster said after staying silent for several minutes, so long Jason was afraid he had fallen asleep as old people were wont to do without warning. "He believes that his friendship with Robert will be a shield against his enemies while he does away with the corruption in the capital and searches for why Jon Arryn died so abruptly. He is wrong, Robert is not the man he once was, he is far too easily swayed in many ways and distracted in others. I'll send another hundred men to augment the men I've already sent. Hopefully, they'll help keep the stiff-necked Stark alive when things go badly."
"Hah!" Hoster laughed suddenly, a hacking, sickly sound despite the humor in it as he switched his gaze over to where his son Edmure was leaning against the wall. "I'll send you as well, Edmure. You could not do better than look to Ned for a teacher, in many ways, and this Ranma sounds fascinating, above and beyond his martial prowess. Perhaps he can help you liven your ideas up, boy! A friendship between you would also strengthen ties between Tully and Stark."
Edmure scowled a little, irritated at the idea that the younger Stark heir was somehow brighter or a better heir than him. Hoster knew his son thought himself a fine lord but he was untried, too full of the vain glory of the tourney when it came to matters of war, and disinterested in the management of his lands. Edmure had also not settled down yet, too busy wenching, something Hoster was always irritated by. But he lacked the desire to estrange another family member by coming down on his son too hard about it or by attempting to set up a marriage for him.
He had hoped Edmure would grow up on his own but he hadn't yet. Hopefully the example of Ranma Stark will start that process, Hoster thought. It's high time that boy settled down and begot some brats to secure the line of succession and if he doesn't by year's end, well, I'll have to take the plunge and set one up for him. "I'll let you in charge of choosing who to take, Edmure, though I want you on the road within the fortnight, so you best start now."
Despite knowing his father simply wanted him out of the room to talk to Lord Mallister alone, Edmure went gladly, eager to be off on this jaunt despite the reasons his father had for sending him. King's Landing and the pleasures found therein, called to him. Edmure also thought if he could prove himself an able leader of men on this job then it would show his father he needed no further training to be ready to take over the lordship of Riverrun and the Riverlands.
The moment his son left, Hoster turned back to Jason, his rheumy eyes hard. "Eddard is too focused on finding the reasons behind Jon Arryn's death to see the real threat coming. Tywin may reply to the death of the Mountain in some fashion, though in what fashion I know not, but regardless, once word reaches Tywin of the changes being wrought in King's Landing, he will react to correct his family's loss of influence in the court."
"I would not think he would care over much for the graft being so diminished." Jason replied, one grey eyebrow raising in surprise.
"It isn't that!" Hoster said sharply, pushing himself more upright in his bed. He had been confined there for a month, his body slowly giving out with age, his legs having gone first. "You're making the same mistake Eddard is making! No, it is the influence over the Baratheon children that will concern him. If, as you said, Eddard is preparing to push for Tommen to be named heir over Joffrey then that will be a disaster for Tywin's influence. Tommen will look first to Ranma and Ned, not to his grandfather who he has rarely met. The Lannisters, even with the Queen playing the game as well as she is, will lose the ear of both the King and the future King. Tywin will not allow that to happen without a fight and I am worried about what method he might use to offset it."
Jason chuckled a little despite the seriousness of Hoster's words. At his lord's interrogative look, he shrugged. "I would honestly think that Tywin could look to influence Ranma in turn by shoving young Myrcella into Ranma's arms. Certainly it wouldn't take much of a push, the girl was besotted with him, even I could see that the few times I saw them together."
This caused Hoster to chuckle as well but he shook his head. "No, he won't trust the girl to be able to guide Ranma, not when he has had no hand in her rearing. He'll act in some fashion to remove Ranma and Ned or force them to be called back to Winterfell. And it is that action we must be prepared for."
"What do you think he will do?"
"That I do not know. Tywin is prideful but intelligent and pragmatic. Whatever he does, it will be calculated, yet what he will do I cannot say." Hoster paused, thinking hard then nodded his head. "I just feel as if there is a storm coming, one we need to be ready for. I will call up my men and prepare Riverrun for open war. That is the worst case scenario, though I doubt it will come to that and cannot ask my lords to do the same without proof of coming troubles rather than my own feelings on the matter. None, save the Freys, have deep enough pockets to weather the expense of such a move if it proves unneeded and I do not trust the Freys farther than I could kick their blasted castle."
Jason's eyes narrowed, making him look like the hunting eagle on his family's crest. "If he wants to draw Ranma and Ned away, then Tywin could make overtures to the Ironborn. They've been restless lately and I doubt the Starks having a hostage truly matters to them at all. They could strike the North or Seagard and the western holdings of the Riverlands. I will prepare my lands for such, in any event. I can cover the costs of ordering up my men for several months, at least, without aid from the Riverlands coffers."
The trade they got as a seaport and transportation hub through the Hag's Mire to Fairmarket and thence down the Blue Fork, made Seagard a rich holding in comparison to most of the Riverlands lords. Though not large in area, since it abutted into the mire on its southern reaches and Frey holdings north and east, Seagard itself gave House Mallister both some industry and a decent population to call upon.
The two lords looked at one another, wondering if this would be enough, and somehow knowing it would not be.
The next day before he left Riverrun, Jason made use of one of the castle's ravens that was set to the Citadel, home of the order of maesters, down in Oldtown, in the Reach. With it, he sent the sealed message Eddard had asked him to send, unopened of course. Jason had no idea what the message contained, some suspicions were too terrible to speak of until they could be proven and this was one of them. The return message would be marked as if it came from Winterfell so no one in the Red Keep would be concerned by it.
OOOOOOO
A week before Ranma sailed from King's Landing, Illyrio and Viserys looked up from their conversation as the door to the sitting room opened. Daenerys stepped through. She curtseyed to Illyrio while ignoring her brother, who scowled at that act of defiance, yet smoothed it away from his features quickly.
After all, the girl is just trying to get a rise out of me. Illyrio's right, she's doing all she can to get out of marrying the barbarian. The thought brought Viserys some mixed feelings, irritation and anger, of course, but some approval as well, which was surprising. It was the first time that his younger sister had shown the will that he expected from someone of their house. Daenerys' disdain for physical wounds and her actually trying to get him to wound her further in an attempt to put off her marriage showed she had some Targaryen will to go with her looks.
Yet, it ill-suited their House's purposes for him to continue to fall to her games and Daenerys still had no idea of the big picture, obviously. Otherwise, she would embrace the opportunity to bring such a force into the fold. She still had romantically foolish ideas of gaining popular support in Westeros, which was foolish in the extreme. No, Viserys thought to himself, not for the first time, his eyes taking on a glittering aspect even if he didn't know it. The only way to return our house to power is through fire and sword!
Illyrio knew nothing of his prince's thoughts, of course, though he could read some of it from his face. Still, he stood up, light on his feet for all his weight, bowing grandly to the Princess, his florid beard flouncing forward. "Your highness, I trust you are feeling better?"
"As if the nurses you have set upon me had not already informed you." Daenerys said smiling thinly. "I am well enough, at least to once again take part in discussions. What have I missed?"
Her brother would probably not have told her anything but Illyrio spoke up before Viserys could send her away. He filled her in on what the two of them had been up to, gathering support among the other powerful merchants in the city, paying for a fleet of hulls to be set down to carry their forces across to Westeros, making further overtures and inquiries to various lords in Westeros for their aid when the time came. There they were not having much headway, not yet at any rate. "Dorne remains the only land that as a whole is waiting for us to make our move."
Viserys smirked as he thought about that. He was looking forward to seeing if the stories about the licentiousness of the women of Dorne was accurate and with that marriage, he would bring Dorne in on their side.
"What of the Riverlands?" Daenerys asked, looking at the two of them. "You've mentioned the Vale, Dorne, and the Crownlands. The Stormlands obviously won't welcome us in the main, though I think our continued search there for one or two lords that might at the very least be willing to pass on knowledge is a good idea. But you haven't mentioned the Riverlands or the North."
Illyrio smirked, his beard twitching. "The North is completely devoted to a new issue your highness, one that has only recently been confirmed. You recall that Jorah Mormont told us of a rising threat, the new King Beyond the Wall? I've talked to a factor of Lord Manderly here in the city. He was asking around for mercenary bands that would be willing to travel to the Wall to help defend it. Unfortunately, he hasn't found any takers here in Pentos, though I would assume that other factors might be having more luck in the rest of the Free Cities."
For just a moment, Daenerys shivered and didn't know why, feeling a cold bite in the air for a brief second before she shook it off. "Are we certain that that will occupy the North's entire military strength? We know that Lord Stark is loyal to the Crown and is, I would not doubt, an effective Hand at present. Surely, the North would send him aid in some fashion? And, if he is removed or called home, who would replace him?"
"It's almost certain he would not be called home at all; his son would be sent instead." Viserys said shaking his head with a laugh. "The tales we've heard from Domeric about him make that almost certain. Even if only half of them are true, that move would be a good thing for the entirety of the kingdom and…" he said rather grudgingly, "Illyrio has an idea there."
Daenerys cocked an eyebrow at Viserys and then looked over at Illyrio, who smiled blandly. "Eddard Stark is probably making a lot of enemies, going by what Jorah has told us at least, which are simply waiting for the right opportunity to drag him down. By the time we are ready to invade, he might already be dead and his son fighting on the Wall. If so, sending overtures to the North saying that we will aid them on the Wall in return for their remaining out of the War against the Baratheons and the Lannisters could well gain their neutrality, if not their aid to avenge him."
Daenerys actually nodded thoughtfully at that seeing, it could make sense, though she didn't agree that Lord Stark would be gone by the time they were ready. She had talked extensively with Domeric about House Stark and both Lord Stark and Ranma struck her as survivors. On top of that, they were honorable men, who took their duties seriously, though where that might take them was beyond her ability to predict. Certainly, Eddard would not go down without a fight, at the very least. "And the Riverlands?"
"We have several powerful agents there, just waiting for an opportunity." Viserys scowled a little. "They're not bound by honor or loyalty to us, unfortunately, so they'll probably have to be removed in the future but they can serve our purposes until then."
"A treacherous blade is ever one the hand that wields it should fear." Daenerys said, nodding, as she sat down. The conversation continued from there. Daenerys fully participated in it, interjecting what she could, trying to plant the seeds of doubt in Illyrio's mind as to which Targaryen child he should back.
In this, she was successful. Illyrio retired that evening rather wistfully wishing that he had decided to invest more time in Daenerys when he contacted the two initially. An accident could easily have been arranged for Viserys and, with some careful molding, Daenerys would've been an excellent leader. Now, he couldn't get out of it; his personal word was on the line now with Khal Drogo and the next time Drogo stopped by the city, Daenerys would have to be presented to him. It would win them the swords they needed to conquer Westeros. No single other act would bring them as much strength.
OOOOOOO
Since Jorah's arrival, Domeric had found himself being slowly pushed aside as a source of information on the Westeros. He was still called upon for his expertise on the Stormlands as well as the Reach and the Crownlands, where he had spent the majority of his time since leaving the North, but that was all. No longer did either Viserys or Illyrio call upon him for his opinion on other matters nor did they ask him for any new information about general goings on there.
He still showed up occasionally with tidbits of information but for now Domeric allowed himself to be pushed to the side. Indeed, he seemingly only stayed out of a desire to see what was going to happen firsthand, as well as the various lovely ladies on Illyrio's staff. He put some effort into that image and did not attempt to grow close to his fellow Northerner. The man had been a slaver and, despite his time in Essos, Domeric still looked upon that practice as abhorrent in the extreme.
Of course, this also allowed him more time to get to know the guards. Domeric could be regularly seen in the guard house singing songs, admittedly mostly bawdy ones for them as they bought him drinks and they shared tales of wenches they had known.
He also finished making his key to Illyrio's strong room and found out when the guard on it was weakest. None of the guards actually believed that the watch on Illyrio's strong room was needed at all since to get to the strong room one would have to get into Illyrio's house in the first place and the watch on the walls was as strict as always. So during the dark of night, two youngsters, the newest members of Illyrio's guard, a pair as yet not blooded in any kind of battle beyond training, had been forced by their fellows to take this watch.
Other aspects of their planned escape had not been going nearly as well. For one thing, Daenerys and Domeric both knew that Daenerys could no longer incite her brother into attacking her. Not only was Viserys showing more self-control lately, as if he had cottoned on to Daenerys' plans there, but Illyrio had taken the precaution of hiring several female guards, massively muscled women who looked almost like extremely strong men, to stand guard over Daenerys at all times. Any overtures in their direction were firmly rebuffed and they only answered to Illyrio. They almost reminded Domeric of stories of the Unsullied, but not quite, and they seemed immune to Daenerys' charisma.
That meant talking to her about their plans going forward had become much more difficult. They had gotten around this by creating a system of hand signals to tell one another simple information but there was only so much they could convey that way. The news elsewhere wasn't good either. None of the captains that Daenerys felt could be enticed to help them escape the city had put into port.
Checking on that was what Domeric was actually doing now. He sat in a dockside bar speaking to another bard, exchanging news. "Captain Costanzo won't put into any port ever again." the man said shaking his head, talking about one of the captains Daenerys had mentioned. "If you're waiting for him you'll wait in vain. Costanzo's ship was sunk about ten days ago. It looks as if the Ironborn are acting up again or, at least, a few of their captains are at any rate. There've been several ships that have gone missing recently, all of whom were plying the straits between Westeros and here."
"Ironborn? They are far afield then, aren't they?" Domeric asked cocking his head, remembering his time fighting those bastards when they tried to rebel. He was also trying hard not to curse, since that meant the two most likely captains to be sympathetic to Daenerys' plight would not be available, no matter how long they waited. This would force them to find one they could appeal to with only what they could steal from the magister, a chancy business at best. "Their islands are on the other side of Westeros!"
"True, but that doesn't matter to the Ironborn. They go where their ships can take them and this isn't the first time they've been able to sail straight around the Dornish Peninsula and through the Stepstones. It's the first time in a few years, true, but it isn't all that unusual. The merchants and captains here in Essos consider them more of a nuisance than anything, simply because they are unpredictable and fractious."
"And you're sure it's Ironborn, not some kind of pirate band questing out from the Stepstones?"
"Positive." Was the firm reply. "The pirates who ply the waters around Essos know they can only take so many ships every month and know what ships not to take."
"Are you telling me that piracy is also part of the game here?" Domeric scoffed. He had never even heard a hint of that before.
"Indeed." His fellow bard said, laughing. He was an older man with the slight accent of Norvos in his voice. "The cities of Essos are ruled by gold, my friend, and their money can buy many things, including the pirates keeping their hands off certain ships. And if the pirates act up, a city could buy enough mercenaries and ships of their own to go in and clear them out, as has been done before."
Domeric nodded, he knew that of course. Westeros had mounted such an expedition during the Ninepenny Kings war.
His fellow bard continued. "That's what makes the Ironborn so irritating. They don't play the game. They aren't willing to be paid in gold, mouthing on and on about their 'iron price'. Worse yet, they don't take prize ships. Pirates always do that, and they can be bought back later. No, the Ironborn always sink their victims. That kind of thing could ruin some of the smaller merchant houses, let alone the loss of the actual cargo."
"Interesting." Domeric murmured. "Tell me more."
For the next few hours, he plied his fellow bard with questions and returned with this news to his employers, which interested Viserys and Illyrio greatly. After all, if the Ironborn were getting restive, that would hopefully draw off the Westeros fleet to deal with them. If so, their own moves would be made that much simpler.
Unfortunately for Domeric and Daenerys, he had been unable to find any news that would help them. Both went to bed that day with anxiety slowly growing in them.
OOOOOOO
Littlefinger was not one to leave anything to chance. Despite this, the sudden nature of Petyr's convincing the King to send Ranma out of the city on this mission to find the Targaryen siblings had forced him to use common footpads to make certain that Ranma would never came back, rather than a single specialist as he would've preferred. These two were former sailors, able to fit in easily with the crew of the trade caravel that was carrying Ranma to Pentos.
That was part of why the two had been chosen but it was offset by their eagerness to get the job over with and the fact that they had no idea about Fenris. Used to the way Fenris was around Tommen and Myrcella as well as how Lady was all the time, Petyr had overlooked the direwolf, considering him a pampered pet. This was, to put it mildly, a false assumption.
That evening, the first evening out from port, Ranma was asleep against the railing at the back of the ship. While he had been given a cabin, for now Ranma simply wanted to enjoy the sea air for a time, clear his senses of the stink of politics mixed with the actual odor of King's Landing, which he had never gotten used to despite the amount of perfume he used. Fenris, however, was awake keeping guard and could move almost as silently as his brother Ghost despite his somewhat larger size.
The deck was empty of other observers that first evening save for a few men on watch at the front of the ship and some men up high in the rigging. None of them were near enough to make out anything occurring on the deck, however, nor were the men on watch even facing the right direction.
"A'ight." whispered one of the would-be assassins to the other, his lowborn King's Landing gutter accent thicker even than usual. He pulled out a long stiletto from a belt scabbard, which had been specially oiled. The knife, too, had been darkened so as not to reveal itself by any chance gleam of moonlight.
Despite his lack of education, there was nothing wrong with his survivor's instincts, so even as he prepared to kill the wolf heir, his thoughts were on his own health. "Let's da this quick-like, and then ahh 'tink it best dat we stay in Pentos. Assassins who gulch lardships never live long if'n they be stupid enough ta return ta tell such."
"Truly, I'll agree ta that." his companion said, his own accent far less pronounced. He frowned for a moment looking behind them. One of the hatches to the crew quarters had opened, but at night, with only a few men up on deck for the few hours of deep night, there shouldn't have been anyone coming up onto the deck. After a moment, no one appeared and he nodded. "If we're going ta do this, best we do it now." With that the two of them moved forward silently across the deck.
Halfway to their target, there was a sudden growl behind them. One of them had a moment to turn and whimpered in visceral terror as the direwolf, who they had been told was some kind of neutered pet, loomed up out of the night. Before either assassin could raise their weapons or even scream, Fenris was on them. His jaws closed on the head of one, ripping it off with a 'shluck' sound that disappeared in the background noise of the ship at sea. At the same time, his foreleg flashed out, catching the other man in the jaw and snapping his neck.
Waiting for a moment to see if the sounds of combat had carried, Fenris glared at the two men he had just killed, wondering why they had been trying to stalk his bonded human. With a shrug of his large shoulders, Fenris pushed that thought aside. And wasn't that fun, the ability to actually think was a treasure to Fenris and his siblings.
For now, Fenris ducked his head down and got to work cleaning up, whining a little at the smell. The man had voided himself right before his death, which made this even worse than it would have been.
Moving quickly to the side of the ship Fenris tossed the body overboard with a swift flick of his head. Fenris padded back to the other body but stopped just as he reached it. Two more humans, both female (despite the way they were dressed he could smell the difference) had just come up from the interior of the ship and were now staring at him.
Arianne stared at the gigantic direwolf. Standing on his four feet, he was nearly tall enough to look her in the eye and far heavier looking. "There is something decidedly unnatural about that creature." She said looking at her cousin who was gripping the hilt of her short sword, hidden under her sailor's smock. "And I'm not just talking about his size; it's his intelligence that bothers me. When I look at him, it is obvious he is looking back at me and seeing far more than an animal should."
The direwolf huffed in amusement, taking that as a compliment. And if the humans, other than his master and those bonded to his littermates, didn't realize they had all been able to understand much of human speech even before Fenris left the home place, all the better. He stared meaningfully at the human female who was pawing at one of the metal claws the humans had. So amusing that they could hide them like that or take them off at all, yet also sad that they needed such. Why, their fangs were practically nonexistent, too.
Obara stepped forward lifting her hand away from her hidden sword. "You haven't been around him every day for the past few months." she muttered out of the corner of her mouth. "Unnatural is putting it mildly." With that, she turned back to Fenris holding out her hands in token of peace. "Hello Fenris, I don't suppose we could wake up Ranma? We wish to talk to him."
Fenris looked the two females over, then shrugged his massive shoulders and turned away. He kept one eye on them while he disposed of the second assassin's body, causing both girls to start, not having noticed it before behind his bulk.
"I don't suppose you have any reassurance to give me about this?" Arianne said, waving her hand a little and moving slightly away from the large direwolf. "He's not going rabid or anything?"
Fenris spared her an irritated glance at that insult but continued his way carrying the dead body easily before tossing it over the side. The direwolf then came back to smack the man's head, which he had spat out after ripping it off (skulls were horrible eating and humans were unhygienic in the best of cases), over the side to join the body. Job done, Fenris padded over to the two women, looking at them again before moving towards Ranma. He nudged him in the side, growling lightly.
Under his familiar's gentle nudging Ranma awoke swiftly. He glanced around and towards the two newcomers cocking his head. "Obara? What are you doing here?"
While saying this Ranma what had stood up and was poised for trouble, though his stance told nothing of that. Despite interacting with them on and off since the tournament, Ranma did not trust the Sand Snakes and seeing one of them here on the ship that was to carry him on his hunt for the Targaryen siblings made him even warier of them.
Obara shrugged. "I'm here sort of as a bodyguard. Ranma Stark, be known to Princess Arianne of Dorne."
Ranma looked at the other woman, his eyes widening in surprise.
Arianne swept her covering cloak and hood back, revealing her face. Her dark hair, which Arianne had let loose from her initial disguise, cascaded down the back of her neck and down the back of her cloak, her eyes luminous in her face. The rest of her disguise, alas, was not so easy to remove nor was Arianne willing to reveal her gender entirely, not at least until Ranma took the two of them under his protection.
This crew, after all, was not beholden to her father or, indeed, to any other noble. It was simply a trade vessel, one of the more than three dozen privately owned ships that traded almost constantly between King's Landing and the various free cities. That was why it had been chosen, after all. Nothing about it would indicate that its passengers were anything special until they arrived and disembarked, at least. That meant that she wasn't about to trust the sailors as much as she would her own.
"As my cousin said, I am Princess Arianne of Dorne, heir to the lordship of Dorne." Arianne said, bowing her head slightly never letting her eyes waver from Ranma's deep ocean blue ones. He really was quite handsome, with that Stark stern sort of manner, though it was much softer in his case. It was not the softness of easy living, for if there was an inch of fat on his body anywhere she couldn't see it. No, it was the softness of kindness, which went well with what she had heard from her two cousins and seen for herself, albeit from a distance.
That also meant her task here might be easier than she had hoped. "I have a proposal for you, Ranma. Did you know that your mother, Lady Catelyn, sent us a raven asking for the two of us to meet as you and Margaery of House Tyrell have?"
"I did." Ranma nodded, but his tenseness did not go away even as he leaned back against the mast. "I also know Prince Doran declined it. I'll even say that some of his reasons, which my mother sent us in a missive after receiving his reply, made sense. The fact that Dorne and the North are so far apart and so different socially makes any such union not nearly as good in real life as it seemed to my mother on paper. But how does that tie into you being here aboard this ship?"
"Ahh, but that was without having met you." Arianne murmured, coming forward to stand close to him, undoing her cloak a little further. The sailor's clothing I'm wearing doesn't do my body enough justice for this, she lamented a little, but needs must. She had taken the time before coming up on to the deck to undo her bindings around her chest and she knew that Ranma was getting of very good glimpse down her shirt at her large breasts. "And did you really think that your mission would remain a secret for very long? I know what you are about, Ranma Stark and I want to talk to you about other… options, both for your mission and for your marriage prospects."
Ranma groaned. Not another one. I'm getting tired of women who try to use their body to try and influence me! He moved back quickly, his eyes hardening. "None of that, lady. You will not find me as easily swayed by such impulses as you might think."
He shuddered a little internally, wondering if he would've been able to muster the will to ignore stuff like this back in Nerima, if he knew what the hell was going on. Ranma thanked his lucky stars that he hadn't had to. Shampoo would've had me wrapped around her little finger and that would've been in many ways a fate worse than death. Maybe Ukyo as well, come to think of it, she was a looker too. Although, I might have realized what I was feeling for Kasumi, too… He shook that thought off and stared hard at the woman in front of him.
For moment, Arianne was nonplussed by this but then she smiled. "Very well," she said, redoing her cloak and moving forward again but keeping well enough away to make Ranma think that she wasn't about to attempt any further seductions. She, however, kept close so they could keep their voices down. Despite Fenris prowling around the three, she wasn't about to assume that they could be overheard. What you know about my country, Ranma?"
"I know that Dorne had close ties with the Targaryen Dynasty, even before your aunt, I believe it was, married into the family. I know that your family still has a somewhat unfriendly relationship with House Lannister and Baratheon. Historically, you don't get along well with The Reach, either, though that has since stopped because the lands that were formerly causing that dispute are now counted among the Stormlands. Did I miss anything?"
"Not much." Arianne shrugged, still smiling faintly. "However, you do not understand the totality. You may say the words that Dorne is a nation apart but you don't understand. We are Dorne, unbowed, unbroken, unconquered! The Targaryens could not subjugate us, we did not, like your ancestor, bend the knee to them." She went on, ignoring his sudden growl, sounding very much like his pet, who had come suddenly to stand beside him to stare at her. "The desert and the terrain is a better deterrent than any martial force. If the Targaryens couldn't conquer us, Robert Baratheon certainly couldn't."
"But neither do we have the forces to fight an offensive war against the other nations of Westeros. So there is an uneven sort of peace between us. You know of the rising power of the Lannisters. Tywin, their Lord, is not the sort to allow any nation to remain aloof from the power of the Iron Throne. Even with the help of your family, Robert's position is precarious and that of his sons, as well. The Stormlands are the weakest in terms of men and money of any realm, save the North, which means Robert's power base was small to begin with and, as King, he has left the running of that land to his brothers so he doesn't have even that to call upon as his own. If either of his sons comes to the throne, it will be their grandfather who truly rules."
"I think you overestimate the strength of the lions at court." Ranma said smirking. "My father has been doing an excellent job of pruning back their fangs, not just because of the corruption but because he saw the downside of their rise to power as well as you do. Robert might not be my favorite individual or even a good king but he is strong of body, at least, and should last another five years or so."
"I don't know about that one." Arianne murmured shaking her head. "I think he's drinking himself into an early grave. I have seen such things a few times and it happens much more quickly than most would suggest. That is neither here nor there, your influence over the young Tommen is fine but you haven't any influence over the Crown Prince and, if he comes to the throne, his grandfather will rule all seven nations behind the scenes. Do you want the man who allowed Gregor Clegane to remain a lord and knight to become that powerful?"
That struck home she could tell, and she closed quickly, now attacking Ranma's thoughts from another angle. "And you said it yourself; Robert isn't that good a king. What has he done for the kingdom since claiming the Iron Throne? No new laws, no new building projects, all he did was put down the Greyjoy Rebellion, and what good has that done the rest of Westeros? Oh, the Ironborn are no more threat but they weren't before the rebellion either, which only happened because they thought Robert was weak."
"Robert was an excellent general." She went on staring at him earnestly. "But that does not mean that he is a good king and he set a very bad precedent. Even if the Baratheons are distantly related to the former ruling line, his kingship boils down to 'might makes right'. Can you truly say that a nation built on that ideal is a safe one? Your former fiancé Margaery must've told you about her family's misgivings? Their concerns about what might happen when Robert dies. What about Stannis, will he allow a young, untried boy to take the throne or even Renly? How many will try to claim the throne?"
"Get to the point, lady." Ranma said crossing his arms and staring at the woman belligerently.
"You know Robert will have both the Targaryen siblings put to death, if not in the near future then in a few years' time, when he thinks he can get away with it. Do you want their lives on your conscience, the lives of the true heirs to the Iron Throne?"
Arianne licked suddenly dry lips, somewhat put off by the predatory look in Ranma's eyes. Whoever thought that Ranma was some kind of northern bumpkin or dunce was far off the mark, she thought. The mind behind those eyes was clear for her to see and, now that it came to it, she wasn't certain at all that she could pull this off. His completely ignoring her body and sexual nature had thrown off her stride, taking away her most potent weapons and leaving her with only her words.
Still she pressed on gamely. "If the Targaryen siblings die in Baratheon custody, Dorne will rise in war. And despite your fathers influence, the Baratheons are on the decline and Lannister gold has bought many allies. But if you find Daenerys and Viserys Targaryen and return with them to Dorne, they can be kept safe. If needed, they can make a vow before the Seven to never seek the throne but alive they can still be married into the line to the ruling line, strengthening its legitimacy.
"And also give Dorne a powerful tool against Lannister and Baratheon power." Ranma replied dryly, shaking his head. "I might be a neophyte at this politics crap, lady, but even I can see that. I will say this for your… concern for my conscience. I never had any intention of murdering the two surviving Targaryens. The only reason I would do that is if they were already showing signs of Targaryen madness and I doubt they could gather any support, even in Essos, for their return to power if that was the case."
Really, how could someone think I'd be willing to do that, no matter how much a threat they are, right after threatening Robert about giving that very order!? "No, I'll decide what I will actually do when we get to Pentos."
Though he hadn't said anything about it for months, Ranma hadn't forgotten about the real threat building in land of always winter or what weapons had been used against such in the past. He didn't know if the Targaryens still had it in them but he was willing to take the chance to see. And if that proved to be the case, and he had to anger Robert fucking Baratheon to keep one of them around in the North, well that was just tough. Still, we'll see when we get there.
Arianne looked at him, every part of her stance screaming at Ranma, begging for more information but Ranma merely waved her off, laying back down against the railing. "Now, it's late and I'd like to get some sleep in the fresh air here before tomorrow. You two can take over my cabin; sleeping with the rest of the crew would be asking for trouble. I'll tell them you're under my protection tomorrow, if you want, but for tonight, let me get back to sleep."
The Dornish women looked at one another but realized they weren't in a position of strength here and that Ranma wasn't about to tell them more than he already had. They backed away, turning to go as Fenris curled up next to his master, both of them closing their eyes once more.
OOOOOOO
Tommen sighed dejectedly. It had only been a few days but he was already missing Ranma. He hadn't realized until Ranma wasn't there how much of his time was taken up with the Stark heir, training and simply hanging around with him, being treated as a younger sibling.
But that was it really; Ranma had seen him, not Tommen the youngest Prince, Tommen the young Baratheon, or Tommen the baby of the family, just Tommen the boy. He would never tell his mother this but she tended to treat all of her children almost as extensions of herself at times, simply assuming that they liked to do the same things she did and ignoring all evidence to the contrary, while everyone else in the court was worse, even the master-at-arms and others.
Over the last few months, Ranma had instilled in Tommen a need to train, which was why he kept on getting up early despite not having their exercises to look forward to. So here Tommy was, running around the castle grounds which Ranma had started him on a few days before his departure. Then he would go through exercises with the practice sword, swinging it twenty times per each form to build up his muscles, after which he would perform calisthenics exercises designed to keep him limber.
He was halfway through those sword practices when he noticed Lord Stark walking into the exercise area, stripped down to an undershirt and padded leggings, holding his own practice sword. The older man moved up to Tommen and smiled his slight public smile at the young Prince. "As my son is no longer here to instruct you, I hoped to take over the position."
Ned looked around as if checking to see they weren't going to be overheard and leaned down. "Between you and I, Your Highness, I also need the exercise. The rich food here at court and all that sitting I've had to do going over the books has had a marked effect…" he patted his stomach suggestively.
If Caitlin had been there, she would've sighed and shaken her head with a fond smile. It was moments like this, where he let his inner warmth and good humor show, that had caused her to fall in love with Ned in the first place, despite all the issues they had faced.
The droll tone this was delivered in caused Tommen to chuckle a little and he replied in the affirmative. He soon found that Ned was a somewhat sterner teacher than Ranma and, yet, he noticed certain things that Ranma seemed to take for granted.
For instance one of the exercises, a group of movements with six strikes and two parries all made to be done while on the move, had been giving Tom fits. Eddard paused him mid-form and then gently tapped one of his feet back into another position with the end of his own practice sword. "Try again." he ordered. "Keep your front foot thusly, facing at an angle from your opponent, which you had correct, but not that far forward, while the other is ready to move or pivot at need."
With his feet now corrected, Tommen moved much more smoothly through the form. He cocked his head quizzically as he finished.
Ned smiled faintly again. "My son is a genius when it comes to anything related to combat. However, geniuses often overlook the fact that other people aren't so quick to notice little things. He neglected to correct your position on that form from what he showed you to address your shorter stature. Now, why don't you show me a few of the other forms giving you trouble and we'll go through them?"
Tommen nodded eagerly and the two of them spent the rest of the morning together in this fashion.
Later, Ned watched Tommen walk out of the training area up with a faint smile on his face. The time spent with the young boy had reminded Eddard of the time he spent with his own children up north. It had given him a pang of homesickness, though that hadn't been the real reason why he joined the young boy in exercising.
Part of the reason was indeed he wanted some exercise but the other part was the fact that Ned wanted to see if the changes Ranma had wrought in the young child had stuck. Over the past few days they seemed to have, which was a very good thing his opinion. It will make transferring the position of Crown Prince to him all the easier, he thought shaking his head. Regardless of what he discovered about their parentage, Ned was becoming more and more convinced that Tommen would become a much better candidate for the position of King than his older sibling Joffrey was turning out to be.
He sighed as he moved up the stairs of the Hand's Tower, then was almost bulled over as he finished ascending the stairs into the family area by Lady, once more decked out like a doll. "Oh, dear." Ned muttered, shaking his head. "I'd apologize for my daughter but I think that you wolves knew precisely what you're getting into in some fashion when you entered our household."
Lady huffed, seeing her escape route blocked by her bonded's patriarch and then turned leaping through the open doorway to Ranma's room, quickly turning and closing it behind her with a flash of that intelligence in the direwolves that was so startling to people who weren't used to their ways.
A second later, Sansa and Myrcella came out of Sansa's room. "Don't run away lady!" Sansa ordered, angrily looking around. "We're just having fun."
"Sometimes, daughter, one person's fun is another person's torture." Ned replied with a faint smile on his face in a dust dry tone.
Myrcella quickly dropped a curtsy to the northern Lord, although Sansa simply sighed with a nod. "I suppose. I was just trying to cheer myself and Princess Myrcella up. It worked… for a time anyway."
Both girls looked a little disconsolate. Since Sansa had made up with Ranma, the two of them had spent at least an hour a day together. It was only now, with Ranma once more gone, that Sansa realized how she had enjoyed that time.
She was still enjoying her time here in King's Landing as a whole: the Queen was magnificent, Joffrey was her Prince whatever that bitch Tyrell girl had tried, the court was lovely, the dresses were amazing, and she loved being treated like an adult. But without her oldest sibling here, there seemed to just be a bit of a spark gone out of the place. She still enjoyed it of course, since she spent most of her time around Joffrey, who, to her admiration had not been effected by it but could not help feeling melancholy sometimes.
Myrcella on the other hand had been quietly miserable since Ranma had left. Not only had Joffrey stepped up his bullying of her, though thankfully not Tommen from what she could tell, but Myrcella had come to realize that the few 'friends' she had cautiously made in the court were not really her friends but were merely hangers on. Thanks to spending time with Ranma and Sansa, she could tell the difference. And while Sansa was lovely, she was besotted with Joffrey.
In contrast, Ranma's presence had simply lit up her life. I should've gone after him harder after Margaery left, she groused to herself now, keeping her thoughts off her face with the ease of long practice. Myrcella didn't know what was behind Margaery's suddenly being recalled to High Garden but she should have taken advantage of it, regardless of her mother watching her like a hawk, for the little time that had been between that and Ranma himself leaving. She had actually developed some curves, after all, and she knew Ranma enjoyed spending time with her, so maybe…
Ned smiled faintly, reaching down to pat the girls' heads. "I think you should leave Lady alone for now and find something else to do, perhaps a walk across the gardens or something else. Call for Ser Jory or Mattimeo if you wish to go into the city and they will provide an escort for both of you along with your primary guard." He looked over to Ser Oakheart, who was leaning against the wall by Sansa's bedroom, smiling. The two men nodded at one another and, with a final pat to his daughter's head (unheeding her pout at being patted so like a child), Ned entered his room.
Alone he smiled quite a bit wider than he would have in public, shaking his head with a chuckle. Myrcella would probably be appalled to know how easy it was to see how infatuation with my son but it still was amusing. He frowned then shaking his head. Neither girl has even a hint that I might be canceling the engagement to Joffrey. If they did their reactions would be entirely at odds with one another, I'm sure.
He smiled even wider when he saw a small raven carrier roll with the mark of Winterfell on it on his bed, left there by Ser Willowtree, who Ned had assigned to watch the raven's tower and pick up any messages from Winterfell. Ned didn't trust any of the servants assigned the task of taking care of the ravens; they were all Pyrcelle's men, after all. Reaching forward Eddard picked it up, pulling out the note and smiling tenderly at the familiar flowing script of his wife
He began to read the message but was interrupted by a bellow from outside. "Ned!"
With a sigh, Eddard opened his door to see his old friend standing there, his rather pudgy now that Ned can come came to notice it, face formed into a grin. "Ned, the huntmaster has told me of a stag of six tines being sighed in the Kingswood! I already have the horses prepared!"
"And?" Ned said coldly. "What is it that you wish of me, Your Majesty?"
Robert frowned at the 'Your Majesty', and glared at his friend. The past few days had not been pleasant ones to those that were around the two men. Where before there had been an easy comradery, built on an old friendship and mutual adventures when they were young, now there was a cool distance between them. "Are you still on about that, Ned? Give over! Who cares about the Targaryen bastard and bitch?! Your son will see to the two of them one way or the other."
Lord Stark carefully did not roll his eyes. Honestly, if any of the small Council thought that his son would kill either of the two surviving Targaryens, they should have their heads examined. Oh, that was what the King had ordered, if they were a threat take them out, but there was no chance of Ranma following that order. He would probably return with both of them and hand at least one over to the Baratheons as a ward of the crown or some such. But the only way he would put either down was if they already exhibited the madness that had shown so up often in the Targaryen line to the detriment of all around them. If that was the case, Ranma would put them down like mad animals but he would take no pleasure in it and he would only do so as a last resort.
All of which Ned was fine with. He had not been lying when he said he still had nightmares about what happened in King's Landing during the rebellion, the sight of those bloody sheets covering the tiny bodies of the children, the baby not even a year old. No, some things could not be born. "I regret to inform you, Your Majesty, that I have a lot of work I need to do today, the running of this kingdom doesn't happen by itself, after all."
"Damn it Ned! Why do you care so much?! They're just dragon-fucking scum! Don't you remember what they did to us!?"
"That is the difference between us, Your Majesty." Ned replied coldly, shaking his head. "You have extended your hatred of Prince Rhaegar and Aerys to the rest of the family, I never did. I hated the King and I hated the Crown Prince, but I never allowed that to splash over to the rest of the family. Vendettas like that are pointless."
Robert flushed angrily but Ned shook his head. "I can understand your anger and I can even accept it, in part, but I will not condone such a dishonorable act as sending assassins after them. Such is not the act of an honorable king or man."
Robert growled but with an effort of will contain his anger and shook his head. "Well, that's why your son was sent, after all."
"Indeed…" Ned sighed letting go a bit of his own anger in turn.
There was no point to getting angry at Robert. He certainly wasn't going to change his ways and the worst of it had been deflected thanks to Littlefinger's suggestion. If only I could figure out if that had been done for the good of the Kingdom and of the Crown or, in some fashion, for his own good.
Despite the several months they had been hearing King's Landing, Ned was no closer to figuring out where Littlefinger or the eunuch stood in relation to the Lannisters or the Baratheons or even their loyalty to the Crown itself. He suspected that Varys, at least, was loyal to the Crown, though that didn't necessarily apply equally to the person wearing it. Stability was what the eunuch wanted, though where that would take him, Ned did not know.
He sighed again shaking his head. "I really do have work, Robert." he said, making that little overture to patching the breach that had opened between them. "I might be able to get some time off in a week or so but we're going through the books for the Reach for the next few days. Renly and I are having issues with a few of the Lords down there. I might be sending out a few tax collecting parties if what we seem to be finding the books are accurate."
"Ha!" Robert guffawed. "Well, at least I don't have to deal with those paper pushers. All right, but I'll hold you to that, mark you. By the way," he went on slightly more serious. "I noticed you were training my boy up this morning. What you think of him?"
Ned saw that line for what it was and stared into Robert's suddenly serious eyes. Inwardly though, he was amused that Robert had called Tommen his son, something he had never done for any of the children before, they were always the 'queen's brats' before Tommen began to change thanks to Ranma's tutelage. "I think we should have that discussion in a few days as well." he murmured
"Good." Robert said firmly, nodding his head. He guffawed again. "Tommy might not look it, but he's certainly beginning to act more like a Baratheon should." He clapped Ned on the shoulder and, turning quickly, descended the stairs. Ser Selmy, as always guarding the King's back, stood there for a moment bowing his head to Lord Stark before following his King, a faint but noticeable smile appearing on his face as he turned away.
OOOOOOO
Elsewhere in the Red Keep, Littlefinger soon heard of this conversation. His one spy in the Hand's Tower had begun to act as the Jane-of-all-trades in the Tower, an act of forward-thinking that proved she was a very valuable agent indeed, one he would have to be careful to keep from harm.
"Now," he murmured to himself, "should I share this information and with whom? Or should I sit on it for a time?"
After a moment's thought Littlefinger decided to sit on it for a day or two, and then he would share it with his newest…pet project. It would be interesting to see the Prince's reaction after all.
With that decided, he turned back to writing out a few notes to send his factors in Dorne, specifically those anywhere near the castle Starfall, home of House Dayne. Something was nibbling at his mind, something about Jon Snow, the bastard Stark boy, and he had decided to find out who the bastard's mother had been.
He also made time that evening, to seek out the young Prince. After all influencing just one of the Princes was silly, especially with the way the winds were blowing. Regardless of what happened to his machinations to incite open violence between the Lannisters and the Starks, he wanted to be in a position to still have the heir's ear.
OOOOOOO
Ser Jorah looked up from exercising with a few of the guards as Daenerys Stormborn came out of the mansion, holding what looked like a large, well-made knife. It wasn't the first time he had seen her but all sign of injury was gone from her face now and her sheer presence took his breath away. "Your Highness," he said moving over to her quickly, "can we help you?"
Daenerys looked up at the giant bearded man. He was easily a foot taller than Domeric and wider in the shoulders to boot. "I wish to get some exercise; I have been sitting down or laying down for too long. Multiple convalescences will do you that to you."
She smiled thinly and Jorah winced. He had heard about what had happened between Daenerys and her brother soon after he arrived. Still, looking at the girl you would have to look closely to see any marks from her two beatings and, indeed, her beauty was incredible. More than once, Jorah had to stop himself from simply staring at her face from afar. Her body too, despite now being covered in an exercise mock (probably cut down from one of her guards-women's for her use), was also showing signs of what would become a magnificent womanhood.
Jorah was eager to see that, though he had to clench his teeth when he thought about her married to the Dothraki Khal. Even if she hadn't been, he knew that he was not even in a position to woo her. Still, he could watch from afar and he agreed with the plan Illyrio had thought up, in general. The Dothraki number and the speed of their armies would be impossible to stop.
Of course, Jorah had never been a field commander and, indeed, had only fought in a few battles so his perception was quite a bit skewed. Nor did he really understand tactics as a whole, the difference between light and heavy infantry, or what heavy cavalry could do to light cavalry like the barbarians. After all, most of the Dothraki didn't believe in wearing armor other than leather Jerkins nor did they train with or use lances for battle.
He watched as Daenerys moved over and began to do some calisthenics exercises, joined by Domeric who patiently walked her through how to hold her knife and how to use it. He would wait a while before teaching her how to use a sword, letting her muscles build up before that.
Domeric didn't notice Jorah's stares but Daenerys did and decided to keep her distance from the man. While she knew that many women would have been willing to use their bodies to gain an ally in her position, Daenerys was not. She would win allies through personality, friendship, and the rightness of her cause; she would not try to woo them with her body. Such was beneath a Princess and she was a Princess of the House of Targaryen.
OOOOOOO
Margaery sighed faintly in relief as High Garden finally came into view on the horizon. Her party was still several hours away but the end of the journey was in sight, at last. And what an interminable horror this journey has been, she thought to herself. Margaery had no trouble roughing it, as it were. She had gone on many horse riding expeditions when she was a young girl, after all.
No, what she objected to was the fact that Horas Redwyne had taken nearly every opportunity to try and sing her praise, or insinuate that Ranma wasn't worth her hand. He most certainly was, in every sense of the word, and this fool wasn't. For one thing, her grandmother was a Redwyne, which meant they were far too close to wed in terms of consanguinity, at least to her anyway. For another, there was no point. Redwyne was tied to Tyrell already and would remain so. And for another, the man was an idiot, who only saw her beauty and body, rather than her mind.
No, if I marry my husband needs to see more than my tits and ass, no matter how fantastic they are. He'll need to see my mind and appreciate that view as well. She thought sardonically to herself. Such terms should never have entered her highborn head of course, addressed so crassly anyway. But in the privacy of her mind, Margaery allowed herself such language at times.
Her thoughts were also much tarter these days because she was irritated with the knowledge that she was leaving Ranma behind where Myrcella could get at him. That little girl had far too much influence over her betrothed as it was.
Margaery still thought of Ranma as her betrothed, despite hearing word that her grandmother had called off formalizing said arrangement for the present, while their 'family crisis' continued. She hoped to persuade her grandmother to end that state of affairs, because, in her opinion, Joffrey was not only not going to be the Crown Prince for very much longer, if Lord Stark had his way, but was also not exactly a catch.
Beside her, Loras laughed, shaking his head, brunette locks bouncing in a way that many a maid would envy. "Are you that eager to see home, little sister?"
"Eager to get away from Ser Horas the Halfwit." She quipped, having already made certain that the man was out of earshot. "Have I thanked you lately for how often you have come to my rescue there?"
"It is a true knight's duty to rescue a lady from any harm she might come to. Even if that harm is simply having her ear talked off by a well-meaning, yet foolish young man."
"You have been working on being better at the diplomacy thing, haven't you?" Margaery murmured wickedly, shaking his head. "Who would've thought it?"
"Well, I am of House Tyrell, we're known for our words as well as our deeds, you know." Loras said, bowing from the saddle toward her causing Margaery to laugh. She looked down the road as the sound of horses hooves reached them.
Her guards closed ranks around her, but it turned out to only be her oldest brother. "Willas!" she cried happily, kicking her heals against her horses side, urging him forward.
Willas rode forward slowly, his lame leg always paining him on horseback, worse at higher speeds, nor was he anywhere near as comfortable as his siblings in the saddle. But he was still hale and hearty, and was among the kindest men that Margaery had known, despite his somber appearance, with a dark beard and deep-set, thoughtful eyes.
He folded Margaery into his arms kissing her on the cheek lovingly. "Welcome home, sister." He murmured. "You have been away for a while and from what I've heard." Willas went on, pulling back and looking at her. "Things in King's Landing are decidedly odd."
Margaery looked up at him shrewdly, standing back as well and the two of them moved over to the rest of the party, where her younger brother reached over to grab Willas's arm affectionately. "Brother." he said simply, smiling.
All the younger siblings had a great amount of affection for their oldest brother and respect as well. Even Loras, who really only had interest in martial endeavors, respected him. Willas was educated, insightful, calm, and, above all, kind, always making time for his younger siblings, though it was well known that he had a special soft spot for Margaery. As should be the case. The Knight of Roses thought amusingly. One daughter among all of the siblings? Of course she'll be the apple of all our eyes.
"So…" Willas said in his soft tones, looking at his sister and waving away the other knights, indicating he wanted to talk to his siblings alone. As heir to House Tyrell, he was of course obeyed, even by the knight who wished to make himself seem presentable enough to earn Margaery's hand. "From your perspective sister, tell me what has been going on in that chamber pot of a city."
"That's a loaded question." Margaery said, looking at him closely. "Is this for you or are you simply prepping me for our grandmother?"
Willis laughed quietly, shaking his head. "In part I suppose, but even if I prefer to spend all my time with my hawks and dogs, and my horses of course." He patted his horse on the neck affectionately, making the magnificent roan wicker in pleasure. "I do know that I have duty to prepare myself to take over from Father. Though I do hope that time is far in the future of course."
Actually, Willas was well thought of by his grandmother, despite the fact that they sometimes disagreed on political matters and even other things at times. Olenna Redwyne was and had always been of the opinion that her son-in-law wasn't very intelligent and certainly wasn't that good of a leader but her firstborn grandson, at the very least, had the makings of one.
"Where to begin..." Margaery muttered, stroking her chin thoughtfully as the party continued. "I suppose I should begin by saying that Ranma and Lord Stark are not… quite what I expected. Yes, Lord Stark is rather a stiff-necked individual, especially when it comes to matters of honor, but he's also quite cagey. Did you know that he had asked for the Blackfish to join them in King's Landing?"
Willas's eyes narrowed. He had met Brynden Tully at one point, before the disastrous tourney in which he had maimed his leg falling under his horse after being deposited on the dirt by Prince Oberyn's lance. While not as well read as other people might be, Blackfish was able to discern things about people far more quickly than most would've liked. "Interesting. That speaks well of his planning, at least. Go on."
"I wasn't able to truly earn their confidence, though I think it was coming close with Ranma, at the very least, before I was called away. But they definitely think there is something going on, something suspicious about the former Hand's death. What that could be I don't know nor did they truly seem to be have any clear idea."
"And this Ranma fellow? What did you think of him?"
Margaery went into detail about Ranma, emphasizing his blunt manner as well as his extreme intelligence before going on to his martial skills. At that point, she handed the conversation over to Loras, who went into greater detail on that topic. Through it all, Willas asked few questions but spent most of his time simply searching his siblings' faces, frowning faintly, not worriedly, but contemplatively.
That interview was somewhat easy for Margaery. Her meeting with her grandmother later that evening did not. She sat across from Olenna on a small stool made more for a child than a young woman, while Olenna reclined in a soft stuffed chair.
Her grandmother's wrinkly face was almost hidden by the shadow of the torches set into walls behind her in Olenna's private study. "You were supposed to entwine the Crown Prince with your vines, my dear." she said, coldly. "You were not supposed to be enchanted in turn by this Stark boy."
"What makes you think I was, grandmother?" Margaery said scoffing.
"The fact that you only spent a few hours a day with Joffrey, even at the very beginning and increasingly spent as much time away from him as you could. The fact you spent so much time talking about this Ranma fool right now and that we have not heard any hint of the Queen, at the very least, pushing to change Joffrey's marriage from the Stark girl to you!"
Margaery frowned angrily. "It's true that the more time I spent with Joffrey the less I wanted to be around him but that alone should have told you something." Margaery looked to her side to stare at Septa Nysterica where she sat on a much more comfortable chair, wondering what the other woman had told Olenna.
Nysterica stared back defiantly. She had done her duty to the family that she was sworn to. It wasn't her fault that Margaery had forgotten her own duty.
"Regardless," her grandmother growled, "you put us in a dangerous position girl, seeming to join sides with the Starks against the Lannisters."
"I don't know about that one." Margaery said truthfully, shaking your head. "The Queen certainly wasn't interested in pushing for her son to wed me rather than Sansa. Oh, I think she might've been open to it at first. But she was too deeply involved in whatever is going on the Small Counsel to really spend time pushing the King away from his position on that marriage, which, I learned, is something of a dream for him, his homage to the memory of Lyanna Stark."
That caused her grandmother's eyes to narrow. "What can you tell me about that? How much influence have the Starks gained and the Lannisters lost?"
"Hasn't Loras reported anything? His friendship with Renly should at least have told him something." Margaery asked, giving her some time to think.
"Nothing beyond the normal power struggles that go on whenever a new Hand is chosen." Olenna scoffed, waving her hand. "Stark's overreaching, he doesn't have enough men in King's Landing nor the right sort to protect himself if things go to pot, and they will. Still, tell me what you can."
"I can only speak from what I have seen, grandmother." Margaery warned, before going into detail on what she had seen of the power struggle going on. She ended by saying "And while Lord Stark might not truly know friends from enemies just yet, it would not surprise me in the slightest if he had more resources on hand then his enemies know about."
Olenna nodded thoughtfully, having asked a few questions here and there, but mostly taken her granddaughter's words in silently. "Hmmf, well no one has ever said that as a general he wasn't decent, at least, but this isn't his kind of fight. Regardless, you'll be safe here."
"Safe from what?" Margaery exclaimed, angrily shaking her head, losing her normal self-control for a moment, the better to get her points across. "Who in their right mind would risk angering House Tyrell by harming me, let alone could get through the guards I had and Loras too! All you did was remove one of the most important of our House's political pieces from where I could do the most good! I was influencing Ranma, not the other way around. Yes, I didn't want to get close to Joffrey. Yes, something about him bothers me! You haven't even met that boy, grandmother. There is something wrong about him! That is as plain as I can put it! There were rumors. I know you don't want to hear about them but if they had any substance to them…" she shook her head.
"All the more reason for you to have played them both off against one another." her grandmother growled. "Besides…" she shook her head. "Like I said in my message, the brighter the candle, the faster it burns out. This Ranma Stark is heading for a burnout, as is House Stark in King's Landing. Whether that will spill over to the rest of their House I don't know, but you are well out of it now."
Margaery sighed, sagging back on her stool with a shake of her head. "I think you're wrong but I obviously can't change your opinion. I will say, however, that any physical confrontation with Ranma will end horribly for the opposing side."
"She's right." Loras nodded from where he was leaning against a nearby wall. He never came near his grandmother if he could help it, her opinion of him and his being a knight was acidic at best, but he couldn't get out of not being here at all. "You didn't see him utterly destroy the Mountain, grandmother, it was staggering. Jaime Lannisters may be the best known swordsman in the land but he is no longer the best and I don't think he's even within spitting distance."
"The Seven save me from fools!" Olenna growled. "Then the solution is simple, you young idiots." She went on, lifting up a message from one of her agents in King's Landing. Simply remove the boy and place him on something that can be destroyed easily."
"What do you mean?" Margaery asked, going cold inside. While she would have scoffed at the idea of her being madly in love with Ranma or anything of that nature, she was firm friends with him, with more very possible in the future, and any threats to him like that was not something she wanted to hear.
"Your Ranma Stark has been sent on wild dragon chase, apparently. It was a closely kept secret so obviously it only took a few days for it to be noted by practically everyone but he was sent after something in Essos. And unless he can swim hundreds of miles, I daresay that something dangerous will happen to him and the ship he's on."
Mace spoke up now, for the first time of the evening. He had been content to let Olenna talk, for the most part, but this he was more interested in. "Besides, Tywin is ready to move against the Starks. I've read reports and I think he's going to try to break up 'the pack' so to speak, kill each of them in turn. Hah, but he doesn't want to face us at the same time and has taken steps to make certain we don't move against him since he knows we could smash him in the open field! Specifically," he tapped another missive, a formal raven tube with the sigil of Casterly Rock on it, "he has opened talks between House Lannister and House Tyrell to marry you to his heir, Tyrion."
To her credit, it wasn't the thought of the Imp's well-known deformity or his japery that made Margaery blanch. No, that was caused by how good a match that was from her family's perspective. It was with a sinking stomach that she realized she was well and truly boxed in and had lost any way to help her friend.
"Ah, it's just a delaying tactic." Olenna cackled, having watched her closely. "After all, if Tywin removes the Starks, he'll no doubt 'accidentally' have something happen to Sansa; such a shame the girl got caught up in her father's machinations but…" She shook her head again. "Pity, she's a valuable piece but one too likely to turn in the hand. No, the marriage will be cancelled one way or another, regardless of Robert's feelings about it. Heh, we might be able to put a crown on your head eventually, girl!"
Margaery carefully kept her scowl off her face but silently vowed to kill Joffrey in their marriage bed if such a thing came to pass. There were some things that she would never do, even for her family.
Olenna could tell her granddaughter was unhappy about that and shook her head mentally. The girl had obviously more feelings for the Stark boy than she wanted to let on but Olenna had no doubt she would do her duty. "That is all: leave me now, both of you."
From his position by the window, where he had been looking out over the castle while still listening to everything that went on, Willas turned to watch as his two younger siblings left, then looked at his grandmother and father. "While I think you are correct in removing Margaery from King's Landing, perhaps we should think about sending Loras back."
He held up a hand calmly as Mace seem to ready to explode on him. "Regardless of what else is happening, we could use a person on the ground there and our friendship with House Baratheon through Renly is strong. We should be there to back him up, at least, and take what advantage we can if the worst comes to pass. Robert's friendship with Lord Stark is strong and there is no way to know what he will do if open combat occurs between Stark and Lannister nor how far Tywin is prepared to go to regain his House's influence in court."
Mace frowned thoughtfully and his grandmother nodded sharply. "Loras will go back in two days, and will remain there while we think about what to do with Margaery's hand."
Mace left soon after that, leaving Willas alone with his grandmother. "There is one other point I feel should be said, grandmother, one you and father both missed, even Margaery missed it. As impossible as it sounds, what if House Stark survives? What if the wolves are able to win out? They'll be in a stronger position than ever and they won't forget that you, that House Tyrell, pulled away when it seemed that they might be in danger. Their honor will compel them to never trust us again and we will have missed a massive opportunity."
His grandmother scowled at that but it was thoughtful scowl and she tapped one finger on the table, thinking hard, while Willas bowed his way out.
OOOOOOO
The village was small, with nothing to denote it from any other hundred or so small villages scattered hither and yon over the Riverlands, a true one horse town, or so it would be called in another dimension. Unfortunately for its denizens, it was also near the border between the Riverlands and the Westerlands, as well as defenseless.
This made it a perfect target for the Mummers, who had descended upon it like a horde of locusts, if locusts came to pillage and rape rather than merely eat you out of house and home. A few hardy villagers had escaped but not many. Of course that too was part of the plan, after all to bait the trap you had to make the prey aware of the bait in the first place.
OOOOOOO
"Damn it, it's like the Kingswood Brotherhood mad Aerys had to deal with! Well, I'll be damned if I let a bandit army operate so openly like this!" Robert pounded the table in front of the small council, irritated beyond all reason by the messages that had reached the Red Keep from the villages and small holdings along the border between Westerlands and Riverlands, reports that had demanded a very early meeting of the small council, including the King himself. "Where did they come from, by the Seven, they must know the mountains between Riverlands and Westerlands like the backs of their hands to move so many men around without using the main passes!"
"My father might have been slow to respond to the threat but I have no doubt that forces are already on their way to deal with these bandits if they remain on the Westerlands side of the borders. My father has short shrift with such men. Though we also must respond, especially if these bandits keep working the border like they are. What they plan to do in the long term I don't know but such men seldom think that far." Cersei frowned from her place, her face a mask of cold fury at the idea of these bandits, though in reality she knew precisely what they were.
Indeed, she had been given her marching orders to say that very thing. Cersei hated being ordered around like that but at least her father had given grudging approval for what she had been doing of late, even if he ignored her advice in that same message by acting in such a manner to redress the loss of Gregor and their continuing loss of influence.
"We'll have to squash this, true." Robert groused. "We don't want other bandits popping up with the same idea elsewhere. How many men can we pull from the garrison here in King's Landing?"
"We could pull some six-hundred easily enough." Ned said after a moment, the various nobles and knights here could easily muster that number. "That plus any forces coming out of the Riverlands and whatever Lord Lannister sends should be able to run these bandits to ground, no matter where they hide."
From his place, Littlefinger frowned, wondering if this was an overt move, a prelude for a larger, bloodier game against the wolves or if it had been made merely to draw Ranma out from the city to where he could be overwhelmed, removing his influence on Tommen before moving against the other Starks. If so, Lord Tywin missed the mark but I can use this just as well as the Lannisters can. It isn't Lord Stark that is most dangerous one here at the moment, at least to me. That would be Brynden, who is getting dangerously close to realizing how much true influence I have throughout the city. If he finds the dummy merchant houses where I've laundered the money I've taken from the loans from the Iron Bank, it will go poorly for me rather quickly.
"We should think of who to command them carefully." he murmured. "You're right that the force will be large enough to do the job but the commander will have to be someone all portions of the force can respect and who is diplomatic enough not to step on any toes. Might I suggest the Blackfish?"
Eddard very carefully did not jump on Littlefinger hard for that suggestion. Once again, he didn't know if that suggestion was just a suggestion with Petyr simply trying to look out for the best interest of the kingdom. After all, Brynden was truly an able commander, an expert scout, and leader of light infantry and cavalry. He also wondered if Petyr was beginning to feel the pressure from something Brynden was doing.
Beyond that, Eddard was resolved not to lose his ally. "I don't think so. After all, he would be seen as a representative of the Riverlands. No, we need to stamp a Royal signature on this, though I will send ten of my own men and twenty of the men from Riverrun led by Ser Desmond Grell to serve under whoever we assign to the command."
At those words, Petyr subsided, knowing he couldn't push farther without bringing more suspicion on him.
Robert grunted in acknowledgment and thought hard for a moment before nodding. "I'd love to go myself but I get the impression I won't be allowed to." He pouted outrageously. "I never get any fun." he muttered.
A polite chuckle made its way around the table but Ser Selmy spoke up seriously. "We cannot afford to lose you, Your Majesty, and no one is arrow proof. The chaos of war respects no crown."
"Then I think Ser Thoros and Ser Dondarrion should go." Robert said swiftly, as in his element here while talking about battle and commanders as he wasn't talking politics or anything else. "Thoros is a good friend, an able warrior, and known ally of the Crown, while Dondarrion is an upcoming blade of the Stormlands known to be well thought of in court. Experience on one side and diplomacy on the other. Both of them will have the King's Remit as well, and will be able to command whoever is sent by either the Riverlands or Westerlands."
The small counsel thought for a moment then all of them nodded one after the other. "I would prefer to send one of the Kingsguard but, of them all, only my brother and Ser Selmy have real command experience. The commander obviously can't be sent and my brother would, despite his positions as a Kingsguard, be seen as representative of the Westerlands." Cersei said. "If you believe Ser Thoros and Dondarrion can handle this, I won't suggest anyone else."
And neither will be missed either, she thought to herself. Cersei was still hopeful of playing a soft game but of late she had decided to put into place her own plans, just in case. With her father's missive open warfare seemed a much more certain thing.
She looked slightly past the King at her cousin, sighing internally with revulsion as she thought of one particular scheme she had thought up as a contingency. Hopefully, it won't come to that. After all, even if, as I am almost certain will be the case, Joffrey is passed over eventually and Tommen is named heir, he is still my son and Ned seems more and more certain that he is Robert's true heir. That will protect me and I can sacrifice someone else, if push comes to shove, to cover myself in Joffrey's case. Regardless, he will live as my son and I can make some sort of deal there to keep my oldest cub's head on his shoulders.
This thinking was part and parcel of the Queen's greatest fault. She loved fiercely but it was a possessive love, a controlling love and, alas, she did not realize that the tools and the people she loved might have their own plans. Nor did she realize that her own needs might not be as important as their own.
At the moment it didn't much matter and the King snorted as if the Queen's impression of fighting men or commanders was worth anything, sneering at the very idea. "In that case," Robert said getting to his feet, "I'll find Sir Thoros and the rest of you can get to organizing the expedition."
The small counsel rose as one to bow to the King as he and the Queen left, Cersei not having anything to contribute to such a discussion. That discussion didn't last long. The logistics, thanks to the city, its stores, and storehouses was easy enough and within two days, a force of six-hundred, mostly mounted light infantry and heavy cavalry in the form of knights and their retainers, marched out of the city.
OOOOOOO
The Queen frowned as she strode off, having left the King while he went in search of his drinking partner, Thoros. Though just this side of a roaring drunkard, there was no doubt he was an able commander of men, so long as he remained sober. Still, how likely that was, she didn't know. Of course, the 'bandits' are only part of the problem he'll face. I wish my father hadn't taken this step, though from his perspective, it makes sense and, if Ranma were here, it would possibly have even worked out well enough to…remove him from play.
That thought made Cersei's frown deepen slightly but she pushed that to the side. She could not allow her thoughts on Ranma Stark and how much she actually… liked the boy, despite being a Stark, to color her responses to her father's actions. Cersei knew why he had set this in motion and agreed with the need to curtail House Stark's growing influence. Still, a part of Cersei was thankful that Ranma would not be caught in this trap. She doubted that anything Ranma ran into chasing down the Targaryen siblings would be nearly as dangerous as the trap Tywin had laid out.
And it still removes a few of the King's most staunch supporters. Cersei reasoned. Both of them would certainly back Robert's chosen Hand should anything occur here in King's Landing. And it well might. I know Eddard is still looking into Jon Arryn's death and, though I have no idea how close he is to finding out how Jon died, I know Eddard is suspicious of how unlike their 'father' my children are. Ranma was actually a help there. With him taking an interest in Tommen, he's changed him enough so that my little cub seems to be a stag.
Entering the Royal suites in the holdfast, Cersei looked up as a maid, one of the ones assigned nearly full time to her daughter, came up to her. The maid's expression was a mix of the normal servant's mask, amusement, and a hint of what Cersei could only think of as commiseration. "Your Majesty, the Princess requests your presence in her room." She moved close and went on in a whisper. "Her highness has had her first bleeding this morning."
Cersei nodded, her face a mask, though she now knew where the amusement and commiseration in the maid's face came from. Cersei's thoughts however were much more serious, wondering if this would add to her current troubles, not matter at all, or aid her in some fashion.
OOOOOOO
"Our main target is no longer in the city." one man murmured to another as they were forced, as if by happenstance to share a pillar of in upscale whorehouse in the capital.
"True." said the other man thoughtfully, tapping his glass, his eyes quickly moving from place to place, making certain that none of the highly paid concubines in this brothel could overhear the two men. After all, the best way to keep his secret was for no one to know about it. And despite the fact that they were whores, that didn't mean they didn't have ears. "We missed him by at least a week."
"So, change targets to the secondary one?" The first asked lifting a mug of wine to his lips.
"Yes, I believe we should." the second said. "Tomorrow?"
"Well, the secondary and tertiary will be meeting in one of their safe houses the day after tomorrow. That will do nicely for me."
"Indeed, I on the other hand, will need to wait and watch for a time."
The two professional assassins nodded to one another. After a moment, one moved over to a sofa vacated by a whore and her client while the other sighed sadly making his way over to the matron of the place and paid his shot, shrugging his shoulders as if to say he had run out of free time.
Neither man had noticed that one of the whores had stopped in the doorway leading to the kitchenette area behind where they had been leaning against the pillar. I think Alayaya will want to hear about this.
OOOOOOO
Two days later Ned and Brynden were down at the Mountain Honey, meeting with a rather swarthy looking sailor in the backroom of the alehouse. He was a former Valeman who had migrated north and joined up with a crew out of White Harbor. He was the go-between with the captain of the ship that Lord Manderly had sent southward to provide a ready escape for Ned and his family if needed. The fact that it also had a crew of a hundred and eighty men aboard, all of whom, despite being sailors, were also men-at-arms was a bonus.
The ship's reason for remaining in port was a simple one and easy to understand. It was a chartered vessel, but the captain's current employer had yet to pay him for their last job, and the captain refused to leave on the next until they were paid.
If anyone looked into it, they would find that the lord the ship was chartered to, a middling level Vale lord, was in debt and couldn't pay for it. But the captain had no way of knowing that, going by the correspondence he regularly received from his current employer, whose pride would never allow him to say he was penniless..
Ned and Brynden were filling the man in on some failsafe plans to pass on, verbally, to the captain when they were interrupted by the tavern master knocking on the door in the signal for a serious business. In his hand, he held a note wrapped in red cloth. Both Ned and Brynden's eyes widened at that, and the man passed over to them quickly before leaving.
Ned waited several minutes before opening the note. He smiled faintly at the rather rough script. While the whore Alayaya could read and write, thanks to her mother teaching her so she could help her with the books, her writing style left much to be desired. Still, it was legible enough, nor was there a problem with the mind behind it. 'Two assassins were seen talking to one another about a target being out of the city and switching to a secondary target. Since this was only a week after Ranma left, we might assume it mean you. Be on your guard, Hand.'
The two men looked at one another, then left quickly. The sailor would wait another few hours and then exit the inn in the company of one of the barmaids.
As they passed through the public drinking area, Brynden made a specific signal, holding his pinky and forefinger with his thumb and wiggling his hand in the direction of the table where several men from Riverrun had been waiting for him to leave before following him as usual. The squad of six quickly stood up and made their way over. "There might be an assassin or possibly two looking for myself and Lord Stark." the Blackfish said quietly. "Be on your guard; we will be heading back to the Red Keep now."
"And from now on," he said looking over Lord Stark, "you're going to stay there, Ned."
"Agreed, unfortunately." Eddard replied with a grimace. This world of assassins and shady dealings was foreign to him but he was becoming adept in moving through it. I just wish I could convince myself that was a good thing.
Despite these precautions, one of the assassins had already moved into position near the Mountain Honey alehouse, high up on the roof of a nearby tanning hall. It was a little over four stories tall and allowed him a vantage point down into the road that led from the Keep down to the alehouse.
Seeing his targets come out, he sighted down his specially made crossbow, a very expensive one, whose use and his own skill with it was why he could command such high prices. Of course, his fellow assassin was almost as good with his little knife but given the fact that both of their secondary and tertiary targets tended to wear armor most of the time, the sniper believed he had a much better shot at fulfilling their task in the capital.
He frowned suddenly, noticing the six men with Riverrun colors circling around his targets. Still, they didn't have nearly enough of an angle to block him from shooting down at the two men. He closed one eye again sighting down the line of his crossbow; waiting until the tip of the bolt was pointed directly at Ned Starks face, then moved slightly forward, leading him along the road. He waited a moment as he got used to his target's pace, allowing him to correctly estimate his position. He breathed in, then out and then fired.
One of the men from Riverrun was named Ernest. He had particularly good ears and large ones; it was a point of japery for his fellow men-at-arms. They were always making fun of him for having 'the most honest ears in the country'. At this point, however, they served him well because he heard the faint twang in the air of a crossbow being fired over the general hubbub of the city. Decided to err on the side of caution, he pushed both his Lord's brother and Lord Stark down to the ground, throwing his body over them.
Even as Ernest's fellows gaped in shock at his sudden action, the crossbow bolt smashed into the paving stones after passing through where Ned Stark's head would have been. Two of the men-at-arms immediately turned and traced the quarrel's trajectory. Looking up at the tanner's rooftop, they could see a man moving away quickly. Both of them raced towards the building, one towards the front of the Hall, the other to the back in an effort to cut the man off.
"My thanks, Ernest." Brynden said, pushing himself to his feet after Ernest moved off him.
Ned, too, got to his feet, nodding in thanks to the man who had just saved his life. "What do you think the chances are that they will be able to catch that man?"
"Off of the main streets, the city is a warren. If the man knows where he's going, I doubt they'll be able to catch them." Brynden replied sadly.
"Damn." Ned said shaking his head. So, someone with a lot of money wants my son and I dead? I wonder why… Lord Stark suddenly snorted slightly, shaking his head. Spoiled for choice really, just wish there was some way to figure out which of the reasons apply. He shook his head, wondering what his son was doing just then and how long it would take a message from the Tower to get back to him. All he knew was that this was only the beginning.
OOOOOOO
Ranma ducked under a lunge from his bonded direwolf, who skittered along on the wooden deck for a moment before his claws found purchase. Fenris turned, his teeth bared as he lunged again. The two were roughhousing at the moment, Ranma not really having much of anything to do aboard the ship. Even though he had offered to help, Ranma didn't know enough about sailing so he had been turned down. Apparently, you needed a lot more knowledge then could be taught in a few days to be a help rather than a hindrance.
Ranma thought he probably could've learned enough to be of help but he wasn't about to push it. He didn't really trust the crew, not after Fenris had killed those two assassins or whatever they had been. However, he had made it known that the two girls were under his production, which had allowed the both of them to come out about their sex, much to the relief of Arianne who had been suffering quite a bit thanks to her given disguise. There was only so long she could have gone wrapping her chest the way she had to.
The thought of the Dornish Princess brought a frown to Ranma's face even as he grabbed Fenris in a headlock, then began to noogie the direwolf mercilessly until he was lifted off his feet and thrown through the air with a growl. He laughed, landing easily on his feet before he was pounced upon by Fenris and borne to the deck.
Even as he wrestled with his direwolf, Ranma's thoughts remained on the Princess. The girl had not stopped in her attempts to use her body to influence his thoughts, always asking Ranma what he was going to do with the Targaryen children, never ceasing in her daily attempts to get close to him, to flirt with him. With his protection of her and Obara, they had both gone back to wearing their normal clothing and this had allowed Arianne to use her charms. Arianne didn't seem to understand that very insistence and the way she was so open with her sexuality, drove Ranma off.
It wasn't like with Alayaya who was equally beautiful but preferred simple closeness, more of a soft sell than an overt one. Alayaya had simply been looking for a good time and, though Ranma might have imagined it, he thought she might have simply liked Ranma for himself and the sheer mystery of the Rock Hurler persona he had taken on.
It was also different from Margaery who, after getting to know Ranma, didn't make a point of her good looks, simply befriending him. She never used her body to try and get something out of him, save for a few times jokingly during chess games. Myrcella, for all her crush on him (Ranma was still of the opinion it would fade in time), would never think of using her body in such a manner.
And although Cersei had, she never acted so obviously. But like the Queen, Arianne wanted something from him and was using her body as a weapon to get it, yet far more directly and more, well, seriously than the Queen. Cersei seemed to have simply seen it as a game after their talk at the inn, knowing nothing more could come from it.
Arianne on the other hand didn't know enough about him to like him as an individual, she simply liked the fact that he was powerful and could help her ambitions and that of her family and had already done so by killing the Mountain. She made no bones about the fact that act had been the one to really get her interested in him.
Frankly, she sort of reminded him of a mix between Shampoo and Kodachi, though why he couldn't quite say. Maybe it was the mix of her sexual nature and imperious attitude when dealing with the sailors. Kodachi could be like that, he thought to himself, always sure of herself and her so-called noble family.
Ranma was suddenly forced to take his fight with Fenris a little more seriously when he found himself almost on his back with Fenris gnawing playfully at his shoulder. Fenris had long gotten used to the fact that his human was quite a bit more durable than most and that impacted what he could do during their play. So Ranma put aside his thoughts, simply enjoying his time with Fenris, the sun and the sea, and the moving waves around them. Despite missing Myrcella, Sansa, Tommen, Brynden, and his father deeply, the time away from the court was just what the doctor ordered.
Two days later, this idyllic time was interrupted by a hail from the lookout up in the crow's nest. "Sail ho!" A moment later his voice came back, now sounding almost terrified. "Ironborn! It's one of their damn longships, can't mistake that shape!"
Ranma stood up quickly, heading towards the room that had been given to him that he had turned over to the two women, though he still left his weapons there. He passed by the merchant captain and asked quizzically, "I thought the Ironborn had given over their raiding and isn't this rather far afield for them?"
"They go where the waves can take them, the black hearted bastards." The Captain grunted, looking worried, though he smiled at Fenris and Ranma for the first time on this voyage. He hadn't liked the big beast since it had boarded his ship and the northern prince also worried him in some way. But now they might just prove their worth. "I trust we can call on you to help aid us when they try to board us?"
"Sure." Ranma said with a shrug. "Though, if they come close enough, I might be able to stop them from boarding at all."
Seconds later, he was in the room where Arianne and Obara spent most of their time aboard the ship. Obara was asleep until the door banged open, causing her to jolt awake quickly, her hand going to her short sword, laid out on the bed next to her. "What?"
Arianne had been sitting at the small table, one hand using a brush on her hair as she stared at her image thoughtfully. The fact that she was wearing a white silk negligée that showed off her body to great effect was not lost on Ranma but he ignored it. I'm getting as good at that in this lifetime as I was in the last, he thought to himself amusingly. Only this time it's actually on purpose!
He quickly made his way over to the sea-chest where he had stored his gear, pulling on the greaves and chest plate of his armor. He scowled a little as he flexed his shoulders irritably. The plate armor was simply a little too cumbersome for his tastes and he debated taking it off but decided against it. Then he reached in pulling out his two katars, sliding them into the special sheaths at his lower back, before looking at his katana, before shaking his head and leaving it where it lay.
"What's going on?" Arianne asked quickly.
"Ironborn. You two should stay here unless you have a sudden hankering to become sea wives, I think they call them? Raping, slaving bastards." He said grimly shaking his head. "Never understood why Theon thought that was such an honorable occupation."
"Theon…" Arianne muttered, even as she raced over to her own sea-chest pulling on her most practical clothing, which incidentally covered her body completely, also hiding a few small holdout knives. "That would be that Greyjoy heir that was taken to Winterfell to ensure the Ironborn did not rebel again?"
"That's him." Ranma nodded. "He's a friend but he had some truly odd ideas of what was honorable and what wasn't until I sorted him out."
"And how did manage that?" Obara asked looking up from where she had just pulled on sailors pantaloons. "From what I know of the Ironborn, they have nothing but disdain for anyone else and their idea of 'paying the iron price' is a central part of their culture."
"By dangling him out a window as we talked philosophy." Ranma said, shrugging. "It worked."
Both women gaped at him for a moment then laughed as he turned away, racing back out of the room. "You might not be making much headway in influencing him but at least it's been an amusing trip." Obara muttered, shaking her head.
Arianne shrugged. A few days ago she would've said it was only a matter of time until she broke the young man's self-control down but Arianne had been thinking the past day or so that it simply wasn't going to happen. Something about the way she was going about it seemed to put Ranma off, though she couldn't figure out what. She was simply acting as a woman of Dorne would when trying to woo a man and she had never run into a man who would be unwilling to give in.
And then there was her fear of Fenris. Something about him touched off a deeply hidden fear in her; the giant wolf was simply too smart and far too large. Thankfully, Fenris didn't seem to care one way or another about her or her flirting with his master. Still, Arianne was beginning to think she might need to look out for other opportunities when they arrived in Pentos.
Outside, Ranma had quickly joined the crewmen who were being handed out weapons from the weapons locker. He grabbed up a bow and a bundle of arrows tied together by twine, noticing that none of them actually had quivers; there weren't enough arrows on board for everyone to have one. Still, he moved over and looked at the incoming Ironborn ship, stretching the bow out and getting a feel for the pull of it.
It was a hell of a lot lighter than he would've wanted. Even Edd, who was the weakest of the wolfsworn, would've turned his nose up at it and Theon would've used it for kindling rather than an actual weapon. He looked over at the captain and shook his head. "You should probably fire whoever bought you your weapons. These are pathetic."
"Most of the Essos city states frown on free traders being heavily armed. If you need protection, you pay for one of their galleons to escort you to and fro or join a merchants' guild." the older man growled. "These are the best I could get away with."
"Lovely." Ranma muttered, pulling back on the bowstring with an arrow already notched as he sighted along it at the incoming ship. He couldn't fire at the distance he wished to and, despite what Theon thought, Ranma had almost as good an eye for this as Theon and was far stronger. But the bow simply wouldn't be able to withstand the strain.
He frowned further as the Ironborn longship came into range, pulling up their sail, going to full oars. Like the Vikings back on Earth, the longships of the Ironborn were low to the water in comparison to a trade cog, slim and fast moving through the water under either oars or sail. Despite the captain's best efforts they were not going to out run them, the cog could not move under sail as quickly as the Ironborn longship could under oars, nor could it move under oars itself for any length of time.
That didn't mean the captain was going to make it easy for the reavers however. He was able to keep away from them for an hour, but then the Ironborn ship was within Ranma's range. He let fly at the lookout who was still perched up in the mainsail, his bow, despite his best effort at controlling his strength, snapping under the strain. The man gave a choked off cry and fell to the deck below, Ranma's arrow in one of his shoulders. "Damn and I was aiming for his head."
OOOOOOO
Turom Myer was an Ironborn captain of middle age, with a flowing beard and deep-set, beady eyes in a face that showed the wear of a life spent at sea. Like most Ironborn, he disdained the normal sailor's fear of drowning and wore heavy chain mail along with a large helmet. At his side, waiting for the action to begin, was a large hafted spear. His family's coat-of-arms, ten nooses on a shield of white marked by a blood red edge, was painted proudly on his ship's sails.
He was the younger brother of the head of his house, whose name was Jon. Though Turom was a better fighting man than his brother, he knew he was nowhere near as smart. Turom had long chaffed under the fact his house was a vassal to their old time foes, Harlaw. He, like his brother and their sometimes ally, Euron Greyjoy, wished to return to the days of glory, when the Ironborn took what they willed when they willed.
That was why he and his personal ship, the Undertow, were here. The trade between Essos and Westeros was rich, the women of Essos made good salt wives, and the rest of their goods were valuable as well. Plus, the Essos city states didn't seem willing to chase him so long as he stayed well away from their fat, useless cities. This would be the fourth ship he had taken since arriving in these waters and not a one of them had put up much of a fight.
He looked up in surprise as his lookout felt out of the crow's nest with a cry, landing with a splat on the deck. He laughed. "Looks like the soft Essos pussies have found someone with a spine, boys! Let's see how well he can do when we feed him a foot of steel!"
His crew roared back at him in agreement, both the men readying themselves for the initial push onto the other ship and the half working the longship's oars. Once they had a few grapnels in the other ship, the oarsmen on that side would join their fellows first, followed by the others while the two ships were tied together. Everyone would have a chance to bloody their blades and win some glory.
He laughed as more arrows fell, most of them missing, others being blocked by the shields of his men, though a few fell. All the better, the portions of the spoils would be more for those who survived and death in battle, even by arrows like this, were worthy deaths in the eyes of the Drowned God.
He continued to laugh as the first grapnels flew out, then there was a cry, one that he hadn't heard since he and the other Ironborn rose in rebellion against the Iron Throne. "Winter is Coming!" And suddenly the easy victory Turom had envisioned disappeared.
OOOOOOO
Ranma didn't wait for the Ironborn to come fully alongside, seeing the Raiders ready their grapnels he raced to the back of the ship where the Ironborn were coming from. Knocking aside a few of the grapnels as they came in Ranma then leaped across the five yards of open water to land aboard the Ironborn ship, his hands both holding one of his katars. "Winter is Coming!"
The nearest Ironborn spent a few precious seconds gaping at the man who was performing this acrobatic act, then charged him as he landed aboard their ship. Four of them died before they could even raise their swords, his katars punching through their chain mail armor with ease.
The next few were better prepared and came forward with their shields high and their swords lashing out. Soon, Ranma was in the middle of a melee on the deck of the Ironborn ship but despite his best efforts the ship was still being propelled forward by the rowers on either side of the longship and coming alongside the caravel.
Several more ropes were hurled across to tie the two boats together so that the Ironborn could pull the ships into contact, their oars on that side pulled in expertly at the same time. But before they could finish this maneuver, Fenris followed his master. With a snarl, the giant direwolf leaped across the space between the ships, slamming into the shields of the few Ironborn from the initial group ready to board the caravel that hadn't already been pulled into combat with Ranma.
When their blades struck Fenris, they found to their shock and dismay that his coat turned their blades. Ranma had spent every evening he could teaching Fenris how to armor his fur like Ranma could his skin. He had been able to learn to do it, though he couldn't do it for very long.
For this battle, it would be enough. With a howl, Fenris was in and among the humans before they could reform their shield wall, snarling and lashing out with paws that smashed aside men and jaws that could bite through mail. A few tried to move up behind him, only to find that his hind legs were just as strong as his forelegs, a kick lashing back quickly and smashing faces or bodies as he leapt around.
For his part, Ranma was simply too fast. He was nicked in a few places but that was all. While his katars couldn't match the range of the Ironborn's longswords, they allowed him to use his full range of mobility. Even in the middle of battle, a few Ironborn had first looked at the odd weapons quizzically but that quizzical state passed quickly as they saw the somewhat short, triangle shaped blades slamming point first through chain mail easily and even once finding the eye-opening of a helmet.
The men aboard the caravel had not been idle. They were shooting into the ferocious melee occurring on the Ironborn ship, aimed fire now that they could fire straight over the shields that the Ironborn put up on the sides of their ships to protect the crew somewhat while they closed. Despite none of them being trained archers, they hey killed many of the outriders of the melee before they were attacked by several Ironborn, who split off from the battle occurring around Ranma and Fenris to assault the free trader, pulling the ships into contact with one another, then throwing themselves across the gunnels with a roar. Whether that was eagerness to get into the fight or because they were running away from the two monsters in their midst was debatable.
More men poured out from the longship's hold, and soon the entire crew of Ironborn was engaged in either attacking Ranma and Fenris or attacking the crew of the caravel but Fenris had done his job even better than his master. Without the force necessary for that initial rush onto the other ship's deck, the Ironborn found themselves matched against two or even three defenders at a time and were unable to break through the defense of the caravel.
With Ranma and Fenris firmly ensconced on the longship, breaking up any attempt to create an actual wedge to drive onto the other ship, the battle was slowly going against the Ironborn. They didn't realize it at first, being too busy trying to fight off the two insane monsters in their midst, but the sailors of the trading ship could feel it, and it heartened them despite their own losses.
Turom himself tried to spear Ranma, slamming his spear forward toward what he hoped was a weak point in the creature's armor; no way could this be a human, after all. But Ranma ducked aside, one katar slashing out to cut into the shaft of the spear, slicing through it and continuing to slice into the captain's shoulder.
The man grunted in agony but his other hand quickly pulled out his short sword and he tried to stab Ranma. Ranma blocked it with his other katar even as his leg lashed out at another Ironborn, catching him and throwing him into two more. He then spun away from another spear thrust, still with one katar locked with the other man's sword.
The captain tried to head butt him but Ranma also wore a helmet and slammed his own head forward with as much strength as he could. The captain flew backwards, his neck broken and his helmet smashed from the force of the blow.
"Winter is Coming!" Ranma shouted again with Fenris now howling in support. That howl seemed to break something in the remaining Ironborn, touching a very primitive part of their brains and invoking terror. Now they were no longer trying to fight back against Ranma and Fenris. No, they were hacking at the ropes tying them to the caravel, trying to get away. Fenris and Ranma, however, were still there, still fighting, still killing.
The crew of the caravel sensing the turn of the tide finished the Ironborn on the trading ship's deck then charged over the gunnels themselves. They hacked down the Ironborn who had been trying to chop away at the ropes then began to push the reavers back.
Nevertheless, the Ironborn did not give up. They well knew what awaited them caught in the act of piracy like this and it was better to go to the Drowned God in battle then to be executed or sold into slavery in one of the Free Cities. Several of them decided to offer themselves up personally, tossing themselves over the side of their ship, sinking quickly thanks to their armor.
About twenty minutes later the battle was over. The last Ironborn fell to the deck, gutted by a particularly swarthy sailor who grinned as he went about his work.
When the last Ironborn fell, Ranma sighed, looking around at the butchered Ironborn crew. In this kind of battle, Ranma knew he'd had basically every advantage above and beyond his own skill and strength. He had better weapons, although the Ironborn's swords had given them better reach but their shields had offset that by hampered their mobility and his armor and ki techniques to strengthen it had allowed him to take far more punishment. He was more mobile in an enclosed space like the deck of the ship, which was also too small for anyone to create any kind of formation against him, and far too small to get away from him to use bows.
Worse, the Ironborn, for all their ferocity, weren't really trained as Ranma understood the term. Oh, they had learned how to use their weapons well enough. They might even have been decent against a comparable force but they didn't know how to work well as a unit together, they fought as individuals, getting in one another's way a lot of the time once they were on the defensive.
Then Fenris was added into the deal. His size, ferocity, and his immunity to their weapons had terrified the Ironborn, who would've stood undaunted against Ranma by himself.
Though his ki-enhanced toughness hadn't lasted for the entire fight. Ranma could tell he had taken a few slashes and one on his side, in particular, looked like it might leave a scar and he was favoring one of his back legs, where he had taken a blow from a maul.
Fenris shook himself, covered with blood and ichor, lips wrinkling in distaste as he licked away some blood along his mouth. He moved gingerly over to his bonded master, nudging his head against Ranma's shoulder, whining lightly. "Yeah." Ranma said, shaking his head. "It's kind of always like this after a battle."
The two of them left the cleanup to the crew of the caravel, all of whom were now staring in mixed awe and fear at the two of them. He stalked through the ship to his room, Fenris padding after him. The door was barred and only opened when he said "It's me." in a loud voice.
Obara opened the door quickly, looking at him and Fenris in shock of the amount of blood splattered over them. "You won?"
"Yeah." Ranma said shaking his head as he moved past her, ignoring Arianne even as he stripped off his armor, dropping it to the ground not noticing the rivulets of blood seeping out of his clothing and trailing from the armor where it landed. All Ranma wanted right now was a bath and to forget, for a time at least, that the last hour or so had ever happened. "We won."
OOOOOOO
Edmure stretched his shoulders as he dismounted from his horse, keeping tight hold of the reins of the stallion as it tried to jolt away from him. It had been a gift from his father and Edmure had trained it himself but the animal still had a fractious attitude, made worse by the pace they had set. He and his men had used barges as often as they could, cutting down on the time to King's Landing a lot, but he had still set a hard pace when they were on horse.
He looked up from doing that as Lord Stark and his uncle came towards them smiling in welcome. "Uncle!" Edmure said happily, moving forward to pull the older man into a hug. "It's good to see you."
Whatever problem lay between the Brynden and Hoster had never stretched to the children. That problem had begun decades ago when Brynden had refused his father making a match for him with Lady Olenna Redwyne. Now, with Olenna having earned the name Queen of Thorns, that seemed like a very good idea indeed, at least on a personal level.
Politically, it would've been a major advantage for Riverrun, which was why Hoster had made it, but Brynden had always maintained that his older brother had no right to make his marriage for him. In their youth, both men were hotheaded and words were said that could not be unsaid during that confrontation. Brynden had left Riverrun and had not spoken with his older brother since.
"Edmure." Brynden replied. "We weren't expecting you, any particular reason for this visit?"
Despite his youth and headstrong nature, Edmure had a decent idea of how the game of politics was played, so said in a loud voice. "Well my father has been sort of irritated with me lately, says I need to liven up my ideas." He scowled theatrically, which he would be remonstrated for later. After all, there was no need to be a ham about it. "So he sent me here so that Lord Stark and the King could be examples for me."
He went on in a much quieter voice. "I'm also supposed to meet with Ranma and see if we can become acquaintances. While your marriage to my sister makes you family to us, Lord Stark, a stronger bond between Riverrun and Winterfell could only be a good thing."
Ned nodded, and waved his hands towards the Hand's Tower. "Let us get some food, and we can set your men up in the barracks."
About five minutes later, Edmure sat down in the family area of the tower with his uncle and Lord Stark. "How many men did you bring with you?"
Edmure grabbed up the glass of wine in front of him, sipping at it for a moment before answering. He frowned, looking around and down at the staircase leading up into the family area, one eyebrow raised. Ned nodded and made his way over to make certain that no one could be listening from the stairwell. After that, he came back and Edmure answered quickly. "I brought another hundred men from Riverrun. My father thinks there's going to be trouble here, and sent us to aid you, however we may. I had them enter the city over the past few days with myself and the thirty men with me coming last."
"Good thinking." Brynden grinned slapping the younger man on the shoulder. With those men, they made up the men lost to the punitive expedition and many more besides. "We may need you and them here before long." The two older men exchanged a glance.
When Eddard spoke, he sounded almost reluctant to share anything but he was willing to share enough to put the younger man on his guard. The central accusation against the Queen was too terrible to share with anyone, not until it could be proven. "The corruption in King's Landing was utterly appalling." he began, shaking his head. "The kingdom is still in debt despite my best efforts this past while and we still don't know precisely how but we're leaning towards someone stealing money from the treasury when and how they could. We haven't cleared anyone of that accusation yet, up to and including the Queen."
That made Edmure blanch but Ned continued. "The Lannister influence in the town is still much too great, in my opinion, though we've done a good job thus far in trying to cut that back. However, it may well come to a physical confrontation eventually, even with the Queen not willing to take part. She is not the only Lannister here nor is she her father's representative."
Edmure looked dubious; surely influence like that would not be enough to cause open conflicts to break out in the city. Ned could understand his dubiousness but if the accusation about the children or at least about Joffrey was true, the Queen would face death for treason and desperate people often act irrationally. "Surely, the Gold Cloaks would help you, you're the Hand, you speak for the king!"
"The gold cloaks are still full of corrupt officers and other men, despite my getting rid of their commander." Ned smiled, he had managed that, at least, and Janos had gone with a ship full of new Night's Watchmen up to the wall, along with another ship full of Tyrion's cargo and the alchemists to tend to it. "We're not certain who they would answer to in a crisis, though they should respond to the King's call for aid."
"And the King himself? What does he think of all this?"
Loath as he was to speak ill of his friend, Eddard had to admit the truth. "Robert doesn't care for politics or the small counsel. It's all I can do to make him care about the kingdom being in debt at all, which has somewhat curtailed his antics, at least. He spends most of his time hunting and carousing, that's pretty much it."
Ned was no longer willing to turn a blind eye to his friend's faults, not since Robert had agreed to send Ranma away at what could be a wild dragon chase. He could now see what had become of Robert once he put the Crown on his head and did not like it. Still, he was the King and, as such, was the center of the government. The Queen's influence over him was minimal, at best, but her control of him, her ability to steer him was extremely well honed.
He said so and Edmure scowled. "I hadn't known his carousing had gotten to that point. It's no secret that he jumps from bed to bed. The Queen is both a figure of pity and japery for that but I didn't realize that he had pushed all of his duties on to you, Lord Stark."
"According to Robert, this is what the Hands does, shoveling the shit so that the King can smell the roses." Ned said dryly, causing both other men to laugh. "I doubt I'm the first Hand to say something like that, anyway."
"Regardless, we're here to help if it comes to it, though it's a wrench. I had hoped to be told to just keep going and meet up with the men heading out to fight the damn bandits raiding out from the Westerlands." Edmure said, shrugging his shoulders. "Still, if you need us here, there's no arguing with it. But what have you been up to, uncle?"
"Oh, quite a few things." Brynden replied smiling thinly. "We'll be getting you up to speed as quickly as possible, and then…"
OOOOOOO
That evening, Ned Stark smiled faintly as he leaned back, swishing the single glass of wine he allowed himself. He normally wouldn't be that abstemious but watching his old friend drinking himself into an early grave these past months had impacted his own preferences greatly. "Off on another hunt, then?"
"Soon as we're done here." Robert answered nodding his head. "That stag is still around, my huntsmen says. I'll run it to ground eventually!" He guffawed loudly. "Best fun I've had in weeks! And it'll be another month or so before we hear back from the expedition forces sent out against those bandits raiding across the borders between the Westerlands and the Riverlands so I've naught to do for a time."
"True, but that is not what we are here to talk about is it?" Eddard asked looking at his old friend smiling still faintly, not willing to point out there was indeed a lot of work the King should have been working on. They had healed the rift between them somewhat, though they remained a little more distant than previously since Ranma had been sent off. They simply didn't talk about such subjects but it remained between them unspoken. Still, Robert knew that he could trust Ned's loyalty to the Crown and to him.
The King nodded. "I'm ready to make my decision about that, yes. It's been a week and a half now and Tommen hasn't shown any sign of backsliding. Oh," Robert waved his hand airily. "He spends too much time with his books, sister, and mother still but that can be fixed over time."
He laughed, shaking his head. "He's certainly a better fit for the Crown than Joffrey is! That boy's older but he's not wiser, and…" Robert shook his head cutting the thoughts off. He hadn't seen any sign of his oldest son going back to the cruel ways he had as a child but they still remained in Robert's mind whenever he looked at the boy. "That," he said, looking up at Ned, "and the fact that he will look to you as a guide as well as to me. Joffrey looks to his mother too much."
Robert had never liked the way that his wife coddled all three of her children but at least Tommy was trying to step away from her shadow, whereas Joffrey seemed perfectly willing to lean on Lannister men for everything. Robert had also continued his ham-handed way of getting close to his youngest son and had succeeded, for the most part. They were now much closer than they had ever been before and Robert was now actually happy to call Tommen his son.
"Good." Ned nodded. "I don't wish to say anything about your oldest but by this point in his life, Joffrey should at least have some knowledge of logistics, land management, and so on, rather than how to move in court, how to dress, and how to conform himself in parties. Those are important, I suppose…" Ned said almost as if he was forcing the words out, which caused Robert to guffaw, though he agreed with the sentiment. "But he simply isn't ready to be King or even the leader really. Tommen, on the other hand, shows promise and is young enough that we can start teaching him what he needs to know in time for him to take over from you when you pass on."
"Hah!" Robert laughed. "I'm not planning to pass on anytime soon but you're right, Tommy will respond better to further learning. Joffrey is too set in his ways by this point. I'll make the official announcement in a few days' time, though I'll have to beard the lioness in her den first."
"Agreed, it would be best not to spring this on Her Majesty. Far better all-around, I think." Ned replied nodding his head, not mentioning the fact that the wine and ale his friend was even now sloshing down his throat would kill him before long unless he cut back. But Robert was also too set in his ways, something he had in common with Joffrey, though Ned wasn't going to point that out.
Moments later, the King left for the hunt once more. Ned headed up the stairs to his desk, sighing as he girded his loins once more to battle with the dreaded paperwork.
Neither man saw the servant who had been listening at the key hole. She had previously been a scullery maid in the kitchen of the tower, but had since taken up other jobs as needed, which had allowed her run of the Tower.
OOOOOOO
Numb. That was all Daenerys felt, just numb, leeched of all emotion for the moment. She had tried so hard to think of a way to get away from her older brother's mad plans and her upcoming marriage to Khal Drogo. Yet, it had all come down to this. The Khal was one week's ride away from Pentos and she was to be presented up to him upon his second day in the city. They were to be wed immediately or as soon as could be contrived, considering that the barbarians insisted on having their own ceremony out on the plains. She was out of time and no opportunity to escape that presented itself.
Over the past two weeks, Daenerys had been going out of her way to try and ingratiate herself to Illyrio, trying to show that she was a better candidate for queenship than her brother was for kingship. Unfortunately, Illyrio knew that they needed more men and that the Dothraki could be their main force, if she married the Khal. Therefore, he was unwilling to even think of changing that plan.
"I know it's a hardship," Viserys said consolingly as he lightly stroked her arm, though the smirk on his face went poorly with his tone. Of course, he had been the one to come and tell her about the Khan's upcoming arrival. "But think on this, sweet sister, you will be doing your part as best you can for our cause. With the Dothraki behind us we will sweep any open field and, with the connections we've gotten elsewhere, we will have an infantry army to take any castles we need to."
His eyes shone with fervor as he exclaimed, "With the ships we've ordered, we can have a force of barbarians in King's Landing within a month and when King's Landing falls the rest of Westeros will bow to us or face our conquering hordes!"
Daenerys shuddered a little at the light in his eyes, as well as the touch on her arm. "I'm sure you think so, Viserys. Yet, if there is one thing I've learned since studying here in Illyrio's library, it is that warfare is never so simple as those who have not experienced it believe. And there is no such thing as certainty in that kind of chaos." She said coolly trying to move away from him but his touch on her arm suddenly became a grip on her bicep.
Viserys scowled a little at her negativity but then smiled, leaning forward. "You know," he murmured looking down at her body lustily, "you don't have to go to this barbarian with no knowledge of the carnal arts. Even though your brides-head needs to stay intact, I could give you some sweet memories to hold in your heart as he ruts with you, sister."
While this comment was mostly a continuance of Viserys flirting with his sister, as he had done most of their lives following the Targaryen tradition of incest, it was also fueled by Daenerys' body. She was well on her way to what would be an astonishingly beautiful womanhood. Her breasts were more than a handful already and her hips were that of a dancer. Pale of skin, wide luminescent purple eyes, a gorgeous face with high cheekbones, small, yet pouty lips, framed by the silver colored hair that was another mark of their family.
There was not a mark or blemish on her, save for one or two scars that Viserys had given her, one above one eye, and another on her bare forearm. When he looked at them, Viserys found himself feeling proud of that. His sister might be going off to be wed to give him the force he needed to reclaim his throne but when the Khal made her bleed, she would already bear the marks he gave her.
"I think not." Daenerys said moving back again and Viserys' face went from a smirk to a scowl. His other hand made to come up and touch her breasts despite her protests causing Daenerys to flinch back.
Thankfully, at least in this instance, Illyrio's forward thinking work in Daenerys' favor. One of the massive women that guarded Daenerys stepped forward. Viserys might have put on some weight and he had been training extensively with some of the guards in swordsmanship during the mornings but he was nowhere near the weight of these women. The woman gestured him away from Daenerys, one hand dropping to her heavy, almost cleaver-like blade at her waist.
The Crown Prince of House Targaryen glared angrily at the woman but released his sister, thrusting her away from him. "In a week's time you'll wish you had such memories to bolster you, Daenerys." he said laughing coldly. "The barbarians think themselves horses in truth, they don't make love with their wives; they just mount them!" With a laugh he turned, leaving Daenerys to shiver and shake for a moment.
The door remained open after her brother flounced out and, looking through it, Daenerys saw Domeric moving past her the doorway. He nodded solemnly at her. Daenerys took a deep breath, gaining control of herself and waving off the massive woman who was looking at her sternly.
Daenerys straightened her shoulders, visibly throwing off the effect of her brother's visit and then tapped three fingers as if it was a nervous tick against her thigh before moving further into her room. Three nights, no more, and, come what may, Daenerys was going to try to escape. Without any of the captains she knew in port, she didn't have much hope of them getting away but she was still bound and determined to try.
OOOOOOO
Jon ducked, using his sword to block before bring up his free hand to grab Arya's elbow when she failed to recover quickly enough. He slipped his foot in between her own, then heaved, throwing her to the ground with ease. Before she could rise, his sword point (he was only using one at present since she had disarmed him of the other in a rather neat parry) was at her throat. "Don't over extend. You're too small and too weak to go for all that over the top crap. Economic movements, constantly moving from place to place, that is the way you need to fight. You got overconfident when you disarmed me of one of my weapons, don't make that mistake again."
A moment later, he had retrieved his blade and smirked over at her. "Again!" he said, stepping back, raising both swords in a stance that Ranma had taught him, one sword pointed forward held waist high, the other in a guard position higher up his chest.
Arya pounded the ground with her free hand but rose quickly to her knees and, moving up faster than most would've thought she could, bounded towards him. At the last instant, she ducked aside, avoiding trying to go sword to sword with Jon, her own sword, a practice blade made to be as light as Fang, flicking out at Jon's legs. Jon was forced to dodge backwards and before he could set himself, Arya was once again on him, flicking this way and that, using her mobility and smaller stature to badger him from all sides as best she could.
Jon laughed and nodded. "Yes exactly, that's it! Keep moving, don't stand still, don't try to go sword to sword with me again." But with his twin blades, Jon was able to fend her attacks off, moving her this way and that, until once again she made a mistake. One of her feet was just barely out of position to allow her to dodge if Jon went on the attack.
He did so ruthlessly, now hounding Arya in turn. She couldn't get herself set again, and after a few more parries Jon smacked Arya's blade off to one side, his other practice sword coming up to smack against her inner arm, causing her to drop her sword. A shoulder smacked into her chest, tossing Arya once more onto her rear.
"Much better." Jon laughed thrusting his twin swords into the ground before reaching down to lift Arya up easily. "Well done. If you can keep up with me for that long, you're almost as good as any of the wolfsworn." That was a bit of an overstatement, actually. It would be at least another few months before Arya could make that claim but Jon knew if she could hold out against him, she was well down that road.
While Jon knew he didn't come close to Ranma, after all, the cheater had an entire other life of experiences to call upon, Jon felt he was probably better than any of the other blades of the kingdom possibly even Jaime Kingslayer. He wished, sometimes wistfully, sometimes eagerly, for the opportunity to put that to the test at some point in the future.
Arya grinned and hugged her brother fiercely. She loved this! Now that her mother was busy with the new baby (who wouldn't be named until their father came home), there was no one to stop Arya from hanging out with Jon as much as she could, exercising and training with him and the men-at-arms he was training.
The first two 'echelons', as Jon called them, had been trained already and had moved out in small squads to train the men of the minor lords who looked personally to House Stark as well as those of House Cerwyn. Arya didn't know the totality of the numbers or why the training had been decided on, with its emphasis on endurance and working together. But she was slowly coming to the understanding that Jon, her father, and her other favorite brother, Ranma, had made plans for this kind of training long before and Jon had simply jumped on the opportunity offered by the troubles up north and possible troubles down south to implement it.
"What's next?" she asked eagerly almost bouncing in place.
"Next," Jon said sternly, "you have some lessons with Maester Luwin to get to. After that, you can come back and you and I will go on a bit of a hunting expedition." He smiled, looking at her disconsolate face. She brightened up immediately and he laughed. "Mikken has already finished the bows. Apparently working with the bones of the lizard lion was much easier than working with the armor. You and I can try ours out before I send Theon his."
Jon smirked grimly. A message had arrived a few days ago from White Harbor about how Theon had already proven his worth to the convoys going up to the Wall. The gift of a new bow made from lizard line bones would fit the archer of the wolfsworn quite well.
Arya nodded and the two of them silently moved over to put their practice swords away. Around them, sixty men who had been watching the exercise of the two Starks, moved forward to take their places, going through strength exercises. Half of them were wielding large pikes, practicing thrusting them forward as a group and moving in formation. After that, they would go on a march for the rest of the day wearing heavy weighted packs.
The others were being taught by several others on how to fire a bow. Of course, they all knew how to do this already. Most northern smallfolk hunting on the side for their food but there was a difference between using a bow for hunting and using it in battle. While hunting, you needed an archer's eye and the skill to find your target. In battle, speed was more important than specific targets. This put much more strain on the bowman's upper body, which needed to be built up.
As they were finishing up, Arya looked up at her bigger brother. "Jon," she paused and looked much more like a young girl than she normally did, her wild nature suddenly in abeyance, "do you think Father and Ranma will be all right?"
Jon finished putting his own swords away in the practice bin before he answered. "I don't know. Things are… different down south and the threats there aren't nearly as easy to see as they would be in a physical battle. All we can do is prepare the men here for whatever happens and trust that Ranma and our father will be all right. Besides" he smiled suddenly. "I don't think anything the Southerners can do to him would matter much to Ranma. It would take a giant's strength to take him on." Jon said with authority, having seen that exact thing. The memory of the broken arm Ranma had gotten in that battle against the frost giants or whatever they had been had stayed with Jon afterward, even if Ranma had healed from it.
Arya nodded and went inside, a little more somber than she had been before she asked that question but also a little happier with Jon's response.
Jon stayed outside the training area for a moment, gazing south past the walls of Winterfell, hoping that his father and brother were all right as he had said. Then Jon turned his gaze north and his eyes hardened noticeably. By this point, Dacey should have arrived in mountain clan territory and begun working her way northward, though that journey will no doubt take a while. Still, I wonder what she'll find, and what is going on down south. We've done all we can to prepare for whatever comes, but is it enough?
After a moment he shook off his maudlin thoughts and turned to go inside Winterfell, not knowing that the avalanche he had been preparing for was about to begin.
OOOOOOO
Cersei smiled slightly as Joffrey pulled her chair back for her at the breakfast table. "Thank you, my dear."
Joffrey smiled at his mother, bowing slightly from the waist in a regal manner before taking his own space, while Myrcella and Tommen waited until their older sibling was seated before sitting themselves.
The servants came forward with the meal and Tommen began to regale his mother with what he and Ned had been talking about that morning in a loud voice. "So we talked about how rivers and stuff are important for carrying goods and stuff like that, and then he quizzed me on my maths before he taught me this new exercise for my legs, they kind of hurt now, but it's a good kind of hurt you know? Where you know you've pushed your body to the limigahhh"
At that noise, Cersei looked up from her meal where she had been smiling faintly at the deluge of information coming from her youngest. Her eyes grew alarmed as she noticed her youngest clutching at his throat, making gagging noises. "Joffrey!" she ordered standing up and moving towards him, "quick, he's choking on something!"
Myrcella, however, had already moved around the table, grabbing up her younger brother, who was actually a little heavier than she was now after putting on some decent muscle. She placed her fist underneath his chest, trying to pull back and pump his stomach like she had seen done a time or two to get him to spit out whatever was bothering him. But nothing came out.
"Give him to me!" Cersei pushed her daughter away, taking her son and trying to do the same maneuver but, again, nothing came out, though he still was making gagging noises. "Send for the Maesters!" she said quickly looking around at a servant who had been looking on with a shocked expression. Knocked out of his stupor, he nodded then quickly raced off.
"Jaime!" The shout brought her brother from where he had been standing guard with Ser Oakheart outside the dining hall. Seeing what was going on, he moved forward quickly, trying to do the same thing but even with his strength, nothing came up. "It's not anything in his throat!" he reported. "He's having some kind of reaction!" Jaime put the young boy on the table then began to pound on his chest with one fist. Nothing happened, though the boy bounced lightly up from where he lay on the table.
Myrcella stumbled back in horror as her brother began to thrash where Jaime was trying to hold him still on the table. Oakheart began to thump on his chest, trying to get whatever was causing the reaction out, but nothing came up.
Pyrcelle arrived quickly, pushing aside the guards and servants, laying one hand on Tommen's throat. The boy looked over at his mother, his eyes pleading with her to help him before rolling up in their sockets, his convulsions ending with the suddenness of a guillotine.
The Grandmaester frowned grabbing up the boy's wrist. Finding no pulse, Pyrcelle's frown deepened horribly and he shook his head sadly. He opened the young boy's mouth, scowling in rising fury at the site of the bright yellow tongue that greeted him. "Poison!" he muttered shaking his head.
"Do something!" Cersei shouted tears now running down her face.
"There is… nothing I can do, your grace." the Grand Maester said, sighing faintly. "He's already gone."
"No!" Cersei shouted the word, pushing him to one side to clasp Tommen up into her arms with one arm smacking his face with her other hand, as if to wake him up from a stupor. "Tommen! Tommen, open your eyes, my little cub! My babe, can you hear me!?"
The maester looked past her at Jaime and shook his head, motioning Jaime to come forward and separate the two. Jaime did so but his sister fought him like a wildcat, trying to move forward to grasp her baby boy to her chest again. After a moment she suddenly wilted, throwing her arms around her brother and sobbing into his breastplate, as Jaime stared at the body, his face a rictus of horror and rage.
The servants milled around uncertainly, not certain what they should do as Cersei sobbed and the Princess fell to her knees in shock and horror, staring at her younger brother's body. One moment he had been alive and vibrant, talking excitedly as he always did and the next, dead!
Eventually Cersei got control of herself for the moment, pushing away from her brother. "Poison!" she growled angrily, the light of grief-stricken madness in her eyes now. "Send for Littlefinger and the eunuch!"
Then she looked over at her youngest son's body and shook her head visibly stopping herself from crying once more. "Th-Then send a runner out to find the King." That thought seemed to anger her further. The King was once again out and about, ostensibly on a hunt, but Cersei knew he had stopped in at one of the brothels in town last evening and had not returned to the Red Keep yet.
The two thus asked for arrived quickly. Only someone very good at noticing things would have seen Littlefinger's eyes widening just a little bit more than shock should have allowed for, before he pasted a look of shocked horror on his face.
"What has happened?" Varys asked quickly, looking at the little dead body and away. Unlike the others, he didn't seem to show much emotion, shock yes, but no grief. This was not the first dead child he had ever seen or the worst body, either. Indeed, part of him was thinking it more along the line of poetic justice, though of course he kept that thought off his face.
"Poison!" Cersei hissed. "Poison most foul. You know where that Sand Snake bitch lives in the city, find her now! Search her premises!"
"We have no evidence to link her to this crime, yet," Littlefinger said, trying to calm the situation.
But Cersei would not be quieted. "My son has been poisoned! I will have whoever was behind this, I will have my justice! Go!" she said now looking at her brother.
Jaime nodded, his own eyes hard and his face grim. He looked over at the master of whisperers, who sighed and gave him an address. Within minutes he and two other Lannister men were racing into the city, accompanied by one of Maester Prycelle's students.
With that done, Cersei looked down at the body still lying there on the table. "Find out what the poison was in, Pyrcelle." she said coldly. "Then, then prepare, have the servants, have them see to his body." At that, she broke down again, collapsing into a chair nearby sobbing into her hands.
At this point, Myrcella also lost control and rushed forward, burying herself into her mother's side, while Joffrey moved over to his younger brother's body and closed his wide staring eyes. Only Myrcella and Littlefinger noticed the very, very small, yet triumphant smile on Joffrey's face before it disappeared under a mask of grief.
Petyr shook his head mentally. I had not intended this when I told Joffrey about Eddard and Robert thinking of passing him over for being the Crown Prince. I had expected him to try and liven his ideas up, or to go to his mother and whine about it, further deepening the rift between the King and Queen. And maybe he did, Cersei has been especially cagey of late, unwilling to further risk her position. Still, to willingly become a kinslayer, even if he just did the planning…
The Master of Coin shook his head. There were some things even he would not be willing to do. Of course, Petyr didn't have any kin but if he did he certainly wouldn't be willing to plot their murder. The boy's viciousness is far worse than I had expected, which I will need to account for in my plans. If he cannot be controlled, my… aspirations for Sansa, if I cannot have Catelyn, will be much more difficult to prepare.
Myrcella knew none of Petyr's thoughts, she had simply seen Joffrey's small smile and suddenly had begun to wonder in gathering horror how far her older brother would go to get what he wanted.
OOOOOOO
Tyene and her bodyguard Damien still roomed in the same inn that Arianne had found for the trio of Dornish women. It was in an understated, yet very good part of the city, home to merchants who specialized in small but expensive goods, who relied on one or two very good guardsmen and anonymity. The room itself followed similar lines, with simple but well-made and comfortable furniture, a heavy oak door, and a private stair leading up to it from the inn's grounds.
At the present moment, however, Tyene was more concerned that the bed was large, fluffy, and comfortable than anything else. The evening before, she had been consoling herself with Damien's help on not being able to get close to her personal target. Her pursuit of the Blackfish had not amounted to much, the man was cagey and experienced. He was quite willing to flirt with her but kept his distance beyond that. That only made Brynden more attractive to her, easy prey was never worth the chase in her opinion.
Still, a woman had physical needs and Damien was a young man with that breed's wondering eye. He and Arianne had a brief affair when they were younger, which had been sweet and tender, something that recommended him to Tyene. It was clear however that Damien had learned since then, coupling eagerness and earnestness with actual knowledge rather than curiosity and a fast recovery time.
That explained why they were both naked when two men-at-arms in Lannister colors burst through led by Jaime Kingslayer in his white enameled armor.
"What is the meaning of this!?" Tyene shouted drawing the blanket up to her neck. Damien, on the other hand, had quickly rolled out of bed, coming up with his sword out of its scabbard from where it had been leaning against the bed table.
Jaime's blade also flashed out of its scabbard and he stood there grimly, none of his normal insouciance in his face or tone. "You two are under arrest for the poisoning of Prince Tommen Baratheon. Search their belongings." he ordered the other two men.
"What!?" Tyene exclaimed, her normal self-control gone, the accusation and the sudden intrusion impacting her harshly. "Why in the world would I try to poison… you can't…"
Before she could protest further, the two men in Lannister colors had moved forward, dumping her belongings out onto the floor from the chest. Pyrcelle's student came forward, sifting through the potions and ingredients quickly, looking for the poison his maester had described to him. He scowled angrily, picking up one particular potion, which was a green goop with black specks here and there.
He opened it quickly, bringing it to his nose and taking a single sniff before holding it at arms-length. "This is it." he said grimly. "Devil's Blood, there's no reason for anyone to have this on their person, it's a poison through and through, can't even be diluted to anything useful."
"I've never seen that before in my life!" said Tyene but cut off as the two men moved forward grimly.
"Take them." Jaime growled, his eyes hard.
At that point, Damien had had enough. He darted forward, his sword slamming into the hazily raised blade of the first man throwing him backwards before twirling away to bring around his elbow into the other man's unarmored temple, who went down like a sack of bricks.
But then Jaime was on him. Despite the fact that he wasn't close to Ranma's level, Jaime was one of the best blades in the kingdom, if not the best. Damien was marked as a good swordsman, one of the best in Dorne but in comparison to Jaime, he was barely at the journeyman level.
He blocked the first few blows desperately but could already tell that Jaime had begun a series of moves, ones Damien never seen before. A thrust, then a shoulder slash, followed by one to the other shoulder, then to Damien's surprise there was a slight opening in Jaime's defense. Too late, Damien realized it was a feint and before he could recover, Jaime had stepped backwards lightly, his weight having already been on his back foot, then the Kingslayer's sword was suddenly flicking down, avoiding Damien's clumsy attempt to block it.
Jaime's sword came down in a short economical stroke that bit deeply into Damien's unprotected thigh before Jaime pulled it out just as quickly, the blade having not bitten into the bone, just enough to make the leg useless to bear weight. Then his blade smashed Damien's sword from his suddenly nerveless grip.
The younger man screamed, going down to his knees, both his hands trying to staunch the flow of blood from the crippling injury in his thigh. He looked up and the sword thrusting quickly towards his chest was the last thing Damien saw.
Jaime kicked the dead body off his sword and looked over at the bed. Tyene's eyes had widened in horror at seeing Damien so dispatched, without care and so easily. She just lay there as the two Lannister men moved toward her.
"Clothe her first, you idiots, my sister wants her for questioning, we're not here for your pleasures." Jaime growled, cleaning his blade on the bed sheet by Tyene's feet. Under the Kingslayer's watchful eyes, the two men forced Tyene to dress, then tied her hands together before leading her out the door.
OOOOOOO
Ned and Brynden had been in the city again when the news of Tommen's death reached them. Both of them immediately gave over what they had been doing to hurry back to the Keep. In the Blackfish's case, he had been trying to figure out a way to follow the money trail his agents had found several weeks ago.
There were several of what Brynden had come to call dummy houses, merchant houses with only a few people in them, who were laundering money in some fashion, though where the money originally came from was what Brynden was interested in. If it was just a Lord who dabbled in merchant mercantilism in such a way as to be somewhat illegal, such as the sale of drugs from Essos, that was one thing. But if that gold actually came from the King's coffers, Brynden might be able to follow that link to someone who had a hand in putting the kingdom so far into debt.
He gave it over the moment the news reached him however and arrived back at the Keep about an hour after Lord Stark had arrived from his own task, surveying a few of the docks, which were, according to the books, due to be repaired but didn't actually need it yet.
Ned had immediately questioned the Sand Snake, but unfortunately, with Damien dead Tyene could produce no witness to where she had been last night. Worse was Obara's absence and Tyene's reticence on saying where she was.
The poison being found on her belongings was damning evidence, in itself, but a servant, well known to be loyal to the Royal family, had come forward, saying she had been in the Red Keep late the night before. Cersei was pushing for Tyene's execution immediately.
Her grief was palpable as Ned entered the room where the Queen sat with the body of her son several hours after first returning. The boy's body laid out on a bed in his best clothing. The servants had done their best to make him look, if not noble, then peaceful, but there was only so much they could do. The young boy's body looked unnaturally pale and all the energy and strength that had marked Tommen of late was gone as his body lay there. Ned stared for a moment, bowing his head in grief of the young boy who had died before he ever truly had a chance to live his life.
"Your Majesty." he said softly, bowing his head to her even though Cersei had not turned to see who had entered. "My deepest condolences for your loss. I know how hard it is to lose a family member, I… I cannot imagine the pain of a mother that is forced to bury her son."
"No." she said loudly looking up with her tear streaked face. "You cannot, so spare me your empty platitudes, Stark!" In her mind, Cersei was wondering if this was the start of the prophecy that she had been given by that old wise woman back in Lannisport. Will I be forced to outlive all my children? But where is the young queen that was supposed to be my downfall or the brother?
Her thoughts were all of a jumble and she was having more trouble thinking clearly than had been the case for many, many years, clouded with growing rage and a deep, bone wrenching grief.
Ned remained silent in the face of the Queen's spitting fury. He moved forward, laying his hand gently on the dead boy's face sighing sadly again. Eventually, after several silent moments of shared grief, he looked down at Cersei. "Had His Majesty shared with you the knowledge that we were planning on naming Tommen the heir over Joffrey?"
Cersei looked up, her eyes widening in shock. She had known that was coming but had thought that Tommen's age had given her time to possibly counteract it, if she found it necessary, knowing her father's concerns on Stark influence over her little cub. "No, I didn't know. When did you decide this?"
"Barely five days ago and I would've sworn that no one could have known of it." Ned said now a little colder than before as he gazed down at the dead body of a young boy who might have lived to become a fantastic king in time.
Even through her grief, Cersei was a political animal and she nodded thoughtfully. "You believe the person behind his did this more because they thought they could influence my firstborn rather than my youngest?"
"Possibly." Ned nodded. "And, though I hesitate to bring this up, even with the poison being found on her, there is not enough evidence for me to believe that Tyene had anything to do with this, since we lack even a hint of a motive. Moreover, she has been at the Hand's Tower many times when Tommen was there, and even shared food with us several times. Tyene had ample opportunity to act if she wanted to do him harm and I had not seen even a hint that she wanted to. Besides, what could she gain from such an act?"
"Perhaps something changed, or she was merely the hand carrying out someone else's order!" Cersei growled angrily. "Prove her innocence or…"
They were interrupted as the door banged open and Robert strode in, his florid face a mask of grief. Behind him, Ser Selmy bowed his head, his own faced ravaged by sadness. For once, Robert and Cersei were united and the king moved forward laying a hand on her shoulder while he stared down at the boy. The only one of his three legitimate children who Robert was starting to become proud of calling his own was now dead. "Who did this!?" he growled angrily. "Who murdered my son?"
"We've arrested the Sand Snake Tyene for the crime." Cersei reported shaking her head angrily. "Lord Stark here believes that there might have been some other person behind it but I am uncertain. The poison was found among her possessions, and we have a witness who said she was here in the holdfast late last night."
Robert growled angrily. "Of course, Dorne! They might well have taken any opportunity to strike back at us!"
"But why now?" Ned asked, trying to calm matters. "As I just finished saying to Her Majesty, Tyene had plenty of opportunity before this to attack Tommen if she so wanted. And Tyene herself says she was in bed last night with Damien Sand, one of her guardians."
"They might think they might be able to move someone in to influence Joffrey." Robert said, waving his hand. "The Princess of Dorne isn't married yet and you keep on pushing back Sansa and the brat's marriage. I agree with your reasons, at least on the surface, we do need to pull out the kingdom out of debt before we pay for an extravagant wedding. Yet, it leaves the possibility that the Princess of Dorne could marry my eldest open, despite her being older than him."
"It matters not! What matters is we have the murderer in custody and the poison found on her. Question the Snake bitch closely, find out if there were any other hands in this, then I will see her executed for the death of my son. I will have my blood for this Lord Stark, if you cannot find out who was behind this, then Tyene will die for it!" Cersei said hotly.
Robert nodded angry agreement. Seeing their united front, Ned bowed his way out leaving the two Royals to their grief. He immediately went to the keep's jails, finding Tyene there. She hadn't been ill-treated, not yet, but she was shocky and scared. Ned wished he could comfort her but the only way to get her out was to find the real killer and Tyene was no help there.
Ned questioned her over and over but with Damien dead it was her word against the servant's and the poison found in her belongings, which was damning since she could give no explanation of how it came to be there. She and Damien had been in the Hand's Tower as usual the day before, so hadn't been watching over their belongings for much of the day. Yet no one could be found to say that someone had entered their room during that time that could have planted it. Her position wasn't helped when she admitted that Obara had gone after Ranma, having overheard the mission he had been sent on. Even now, Tyene would not speak of Arianne.
That unfortunately was enough to make Robert see red and assume that Dorne, while still unwilling to do so openly, wanted to weaken his family for their Targaryen masters. It was all Ned could do to keep Robert and Cersei from declaring open war against Dorne for it, and that was a near run thing. The entire small council united to help convince the Royals, themselves acting in concert for once, that doing so with no real evidence linking House Martell and the rest of Dorne to the crime was beyond the untenable. Robert and Cersei unwillingly backed off, but it had been a near run thing..
The servant who had come forward saying he had seen Tyene in the holdfast late the night before Tommen's death checked out, unfortunately. A Lannister man, he turned his hands to anything that needed doing in the keep and was well respected by those who noticed his presence at all. He was the most non-descript man Eddard had ever met, but that wasn't a crime. His words were clear, concise, stood up to Eddard's questioning and were utterly damning for Tyene.
Two days of frantic searching went by, with both Cersei and the King now demanding Tyene's death. After those two days, Eddard could not stop them despite all his efforts and Cersei's ultimatum was born out. However, thanks to his efforts Tyene was merely to be executed, not tortured first to force her to give up any other conspirators.
Tyene's mouth was gagged and her eyes wild, wide, and disbelieving as she was lead, still fighting to get away up to the executioner's block. Waiting for her was the executioner, Ser Ilyn Payne. She scanned the crowd, looking, hoping for a sympathetic face, an act of the Seven, anything to get her out of this, wishing with all her heart that she had never agreed to come with Arianne on this 'adventure' of hers, that she had left with Obara and Arianne, that she was anywhere but here. Yet, the grip of the guard on her shoulder propelled her forward and she knew there was no escape.
Ned was there, unwillingly watching this travesty of justice knowing, even if he couldn't prove it, that the girl was innocent and deserved someone there for her. Tyene's gaze found his, trying to accuse him, but all she got in turn was a sad, sympathetic expression, and his lips moving in prayer. Next to him Brynden too was gazing at her, compassion and sadness etched on his features. Yet both were powerless now, and could only watch as Tyene was dragged to her doom.
Myrcella did not attend. She had been spending as much time as she could in the tower with Sansa, being comforted by the other girl, yet also feeling safer there than anywhere else. When she wasn't with her mother or Sansa, she would spend time with Brynden Tully or Eddard Stark. Doing nothing but simply sitting in the same room reading or knitting. After her younger brother's death, and her own, admittedly wild and unprovable supposition as to who caused it, the young princess needed that sense of security now more than ever before.
Her face still a mask of grief and rage Cersei watched as Tyene was led to the executions block. She had urged the king to simply execute the bitch, but Robert had been unwilling to overthrow convention like that, even in a case like this. So when Tyene reached the executions platform placed at the front of the prison's courtyard, he stood up from his chair on a nearby dais.
He looked over the crowd. The smallfolk and court alike had heard the news about Tommen's death over the past few days, and there were literally thousands here to see justice be done. Tommen had been a virtual unknown to the smallfolk, they were merely here to see an execution. But Tommen had been looked on with fondness by many of the nobles, including many who feared Joffrey would be a disaster for the kingdom. Now that hope was gone, and they glared hatefully at the woman they blamed for it.
"Tyene Sand, you have been found guilty of treason for the death of Prince Tommen Baratheon, for which you are to be executed today. As per ancient custom, you are allowed to say your final words before us, your executioner and the Seven above." Robert intoned the formal words, glaring at the woman hatefully before nodding at one of the guards who removed her gag. "Say your piece now, or go into the ever dark silent."
Tyene glared back at him fearfully for a moment before looking around at the crowd. The uncaring masses stared back, wanting the show to move forward, while others were hoping for a bit more drama for their entertainment. Only Eddard, Brynden, Edmure and the men-at-arms around them showed sadness.
Something about Eddard's face made Tyene's back stiffen. She spoke then, her voice cracking with fear of what was about to happen, yet her words came out with as much force as she could give them. "Before the Seven and the people of this city, though I know it will not matter, I declare my innocence. I did not kill the prince, nor do I have any clue who did. You kill an innocent today oh great king, though you and your queen I don't doubt have practice enough."
She spat on the ground, her eyes moving across the crowd. "Yet innocent blood will be paid for, mark my words! You will rue this day's work Robert Baratheon, you and all with you."
"So be it." Robert growled, ignoring the murmuring of the crowd, many within having been moved by either the girl's vitriol or her actual words. He nodded at the executioner, then sat back down. Moments later he watched, his face hard as the executioner went about his business.
On the Queen's other side, Joffrey sat. Joffrey's face seemed blank, yet, if you knew that boy well enough, you might have seen a tiny bit of a smile in his eyes, as the sword came down on Tyene's neck.
OOOOOOO
It was that time of night where even a city like Pentos had gone to sleep when Daenerys stealthily got up from her bed, though, despite how quiet she was, the one guard that watched her during the night still noticed the movement. She came forward from the doorway looking at her charge, quizzically cocking her head to one side. "Toilet." Daenerys muttered quickly.
The guard nodded and waved her through the doorway, following quickly. As she entered the bidet, which was situated at the far end of the hallway, Daenerys slipped, falling backwards. Her guard quickly caught her, then gasped as Daenerys whipped out her small dagger and plunged it backwards, catching the woman right underneath her armor and into her guts. Before she could think about it, before the woman could scream, Daenerys had pulled her knife back out and slashed the woman's throat open.
As the woman collapsed on her, Daenerys looked down at the blood on her hands and forearm in shock. At that point Domeric came out of the bathroom quickly, catching the body by the shoulders and dragging her in before doing the same to Daenerys. He stared down at her with something approaching admiration mixed with shock. "I thought the plan was for me to deal with her?"
"You…" Daenerys stammered. "Y-you couldn't have done it quietly or quickly. Better I do it." Her hands began to shake in reaction and Domeric carefully reached forward, taking the small yet exceedingly sharp knife out of her hand before dragging the younger girl over to the washbasin to wash off the blood. The first kill was always traumatic, no matter how well trained a person was, and Daenerys, despite having trained to get back into shape, had never been trained to kill. Indeed, despite how rough her life might have been the past few years, this might have been the first time she had seen death up close.
After a moment Domeric spoke, both to get her mind off what she had just done and get them moving. "Do we still stick to the plan, raiding Illyrio's treasure room for things to sell off? Or do we just try to run for it?"
"How are you going to distract the guards at the gates?" Daenerys asked, trying desperately to move on.
"I'm not. There's a guard on the eastern wall who's a drunkard. He almost always drinks while on watch and I gave him some extremely potent spirits earlier this evening before his shift. He should be out like a light by now and I have a good stout rope we can use to get over the wall."
"Good thinking." Daenerys said, regaining control of herself. Her hands were still shaking a bit but she took her now clean knife from Domeric and then motioned to the doorway. "Lead on."
Domeric nodded and the two of them moved through the darkened household, lit only by a few guttering torches here and there in wall sconces. However, the area right in front of Illyrio's treasure room was well lit by three such torches and guarded by the two young, untried armsmen that Domeric had known would be here. He waved Daenerys back into cover, then steeled himself, slowly drawing out his sword from its scabbard as silently as he could.
The two untried guards hadn't heard anything, their lack of alertness showing their inexperience and the general belief that guarding the strong room was unnecessary. They were engaged in a discussion about a barmaid that one of them had flirted with when Domeric charged around the corners straight towards him. Before either could raise an alarm or their weapons, he was on them, sending one to the floor with an overhand strike that opened him up from shoulder to crotch before whipping his sword around to take the other across the throat.
The man on the floor tried to gasp through the agony of the blow across his chest, his studded leather armor having taken some of it, but before he could do more than take that breath, Domeric's sword once again flashed, cutting into the man's neck from the side.
Domeric sighed sadly, shaking his head. Neither man could have been older than seventeen or so, not even old enough to shave regularly, and had deserved a better death than being cut down like this. Still, now was not the time for such thoughts.
Behind him, Daenerys came forward, touching his shoulder briefly, understanding what the man thought in a way that she would not have been able to as little as an hour ago. The Targaryen Princess knew that she would have nightmares about her murdering her bodyguard. Yet, it's better to have nightmares in my head than to be living one, she thought grimly, then moved towards the doorway.
Domeric reached inside one of his pockets and pulled out the key, putting it into the keyhole quietly. He knew noises at night tended to carry further than you would think. The deaths of the two guards had made some noise, as well, so now they needed to hurry.
The door opened soundlessly and they moved forward, with Domeric taking up the torch from outside.
Inside was a very organized little area, about sixteen feet squared. The walls were lined with several different sized shelves and a small table set in the direct center of the room. There were some bags of gold coins here and there but the majority of things on display were small figurines of gold, silver, and other precious metals; a few bags of gems; and, in pride of place on the table three large, multicolored gems bigger than Domeric's fists pressed together.
They were each laid out on a pillow of purple silk, each gem a different base color with hints of others. One was black with hints of scarlet in ripples and swirls here and there. The middle one was a deep green with sprinkled bronze flecks catching the light of the torches set into the wall outside the strong room. The third was a stunning pale cream color, streaked with striations of gold.
Domeric gasped at the sight of them, wondering what kind of gems they were but Daenerys' breath had caught in her throat and she looked almost faint. "Dragon eggs!" she exclaimed, forgetting to whisper at present.
"Are you sure, they look just like gigantic jewels to me?" Domeric asked, motioning her to lower her voice.
"I am positive. Viserys used to read me stories about what they looked like when we were younger." she replied, now moving forward, one hand gently stroking the cream colored egg. It felt slightly warm to the touch and she gasped in delight. "Domeric, we must take them!"
At the utter certainty in the young girl's voice, Domeric's eyebrows rose in surprise but he still jumped to obey her, quickly opening up the large sack at his side. Reverently, Daenerys put all three of the dragon eggs in it. This didn't leave a lot of room for anything else but she still piled a few in. After only a few moments, they were done and she nodded at him. "Let's get out of here."
As they raced out of the room, someone raised an alarm elsewhere in the compound. Evidently, the body of Daenerys' guards-woman had been discovered in the bidet and now the guards were being roused to the danger already within the mansion grounds.
"Make for the eastern wall." Domeric said, looking around.
Daenerys paused, shaking her head. "Give me the pouch." she ordered. "If we're forced to fight, you'll need both your hands, you can't be weighed down." Domeric didn't try to argue, pulling it off his shoulder and passing it over to her.
They didn't get out of the compound and out onto the grounds before they were surrounded by guards. Illyrio was not among them, being a deep sleeper it would take an hour at the very least before he could be roused. But Jorah and Viserys were there. Viserys had his slim sword in hand and he scowled angrily at seeing his sister and the bard who he had come to despise. Without him there, Daenerys would simply have been a meek, though intelligent bookworm, but with Domeric's aid, she had begun to show a spine that ran entirely counter to what he wanted. "And what are you up to it this late at night, sweet sister? Trying to run are we? Still trying to defy your fate?"
"My fate is my own!" Daenerys shouted, a sudden rush of anger putting aside the lingering remorse she had felt for killing her guards-woman and her panic. "I will make it with my own two hands, brother, and I will not let you decide my fate for me. Your mad dream of using the Dothraki horsemen to carve your path to our former thrown is a fantasy and I will have no part of it!"
"My lady." said Jorah softly from where he stood next to Viserys, glaring angrily at his countryman who was part of this farce even as he tried to reason with the princess. "You need that force if you are to even try to take back your throne. I realize it might be abhorrent to you but marriage to Khal Drogo is the only way you will be able to get those forces."
"Never." Daenerys said drawing her knife and holding it along her forearm as she had been taught. "I will never marry him. Besides!" she said, laughing suddenly and reaching into the pouch that she had along her side at present. She pulled out one of the dragon eggs. If these hatch they can give us all the strength we need!"
Viserys gasped in shock and then his eyes widened in fury. He could put two and two together. The two would-be escapees were coming from Illyrio's treasure room. He must have been hiding these. "Give them to me sister. I am the heir to our dynasty, I will figure out how to hatch them."
Daenerys put the egg back in her pouch and stood back to back with Domeric who had been silent throughout this exchange, ready and waiting as he faced the majority of the guards that had come up from behind them. "If you want them, brother, come and take them."
A fierce light had been kindled in Daenerys' eyes, gone was her shaking from her first kill earlier and in its place was a fierce desire. A desire to be away from her brother and his control, a desire to be away from Illyrio's cunning schemes, and the Bears desiring looks. As she had shouted a moment ago, she would forge her own fate and ride the wind as a dragon rider.
Jorah still looked like he wanted to try and talk her out of it but Viserys waved his sword angrily. "Take them. Kill the Bard but my sister must not be harmed."
Domeric bounded forward suddenly, cutting down a guard before he could raise his own weapon. "This way!" he shouted pushing another guard out of the way when their blades locked before kicking him between the legs and racing after Daenerys. Hampered by their large shields, the guards couldn't run as fast as they could. Their progress stalled further when Daenerys raced through a doorway at the far end and locked it behind them.
They ran down a corridor towards the kitchen, with Daenerys knocking the torches to the floor as she passed. The kitchen was dark this time of night. The cook would arrive in a few hours to begin breakfast but until then there was no one here.
"Keep going!" Domeric ordered. "I'll hold them off here; they can only come at me one at a time."
Daenerys shook his head, looking around. "No not yet, we need a distraction. Something to pull the guards off chasing us and block them from chasing us directly."
She rapidly moved over to a few of the cabinets, having been in here a time or two before Viserys assaulted her to ask for snacks. Quickly, she pulled out the cooking oil, smashing the jar of it onto the ground in front of the doorway leading into the kitchen from the rest of the household. Several other bottles followed, spread out everywhere, and she also took two bottles of different liquors. Then she raced back to the entrance to the hallway, throwing more bottles at the torches she had knocked to the floor. They were already beginning to sputter, but when one of the bottles crashed down close enough to one it burst up in a flare of fire.
"Give me the candle." Domeric passed it over without a word. "GO!" she ordered. "Try to clear us a way towards your escape route."
Domeric stared at her, then nodded abruptly and tore out of the doorway out onto the grounds. She waited for him to get well ahead of her and then tossed the candle into the oil at the foot of the open entranceway. The oil immediately caught fire, springing up and around, filling the doorway with fire and smoke, joining the fires already flaring up out in the hallway. It also quickly spread back into the kitchen, moving faster than she had expected, consuming the puddles of oils and expensive liquors that she had created moments ago.
With that done, she turned to race away but Viserys, trusting in the Targaryen bloodlines immunity to fire, had come ahead of the guards. Just as she turned away, he burst through the doorway, coming out with only his clothing on fire.
Viserys tackled Daenerys slamming her into the wall where she grunted in pain, her breath pushed out of her by the impact. "Oh, no you don't, sweet sister!" he said, his voice deep and angry. He pulled back a hand to slap her but Daenerys kicked out, catching him in one of his legs and forcing him backwards a little. He scowled angrily, trying to grab her throat with his hand but Daenerys brought up her knife, cutting deeply into his arm. He screamed, reeling backwards in agony as he looked at her in startled amazement. She had never tried to fight back before, never, and now she had done it twice!
"I am a Targaryen too, brother!" she shouted angrily into his face.
That enraged Viserys further and his sword flashed out smashing her knife out of her hand leaving her hand numb and shaking from the impact. He stalked forward, his sword flicking out, catching her lightly in the side, causing blood to flow down her side and actually into the sack she wore at her side. Viserys pressed Daenerys back against a cabinet where the fire had now spread up the wooden furniture, burning merrily. Daenerys' clothing caught on fire, as did the carrier she had been using.
"You will know your place!" Viserys roared but then doubled over in agony as Daenerys brought up her knee into his privates, her hand flashing out to smash into his face forcing him away. She scrambled on the floor for her knife, coming up with it as he charged forward again, stabbing it desperately at one of his legs. She only nicked him but he screamed, jerking away and taking her knife with him, caught in his leather pants.
Daenerys gasped as she noticed that the sack was on fire and falling apart, the items inside now pouring out as it came undone. She looked at her brother, once more making his wary way towards her. With a sudden sob, she reached down, grabbing up two of the eggs, the greenish one and the creamy one. With the two eggs in hand she turned away with a sob, racing out the door out into the mansion's grounds.
Behind her Viserys scowled at his sisters escape, but looking down at the black egg he stopped his chase. Sheathing his blade, he reached down to pick it up with his good arm, then began to laugh wildly.
Racing outside, she found Domeric by the wall, waiting anxiously for her. At his feet was a dead guardsmen, and another's body was halfway in a bush nearby. One of his arms was hanging limp by his side and he seemed to be bleeding from that arm. Despite this, he still looked at her in shock as Daenerys ran up to him, her clothing almost burned away entirely and now just carrying two of the dragon eggs in her arms. "Princess, are you alright?! What happened?"
"No time!" She exclaimed, while behind her the fire in the kitchen spread along the wooden floorboards and wall panels. "While they are all dealing with the fire, we must get away!"
He looked down in shock at the two now visibly pulsing eggs that Daenerys held in her hands. "Show me this rope of yours and let us be off!"
Before they could attempt to climb the rope, which they might not have been able to do in any event, given Domeric's wounded arm and Daenerys holding the two eggs, seven more of Illyrio's men-at-arms came upon them. The commander had broken up his command, leaving four men on the gate and sending seven on a walk around of the mansion. The rest raced to create a bucket chain to help put out the fire, which was now almost out of control in the first floor of the mansion.
The men on patrol came upon the two escapees and quickly circled them but were unsure what to do since, the last they knew Daenerys, at least, was an honored guest and ally of their employer. Domeric they weren't as clear on. Even if they knew him well enough and were friendly with him, his status in the household had been ambivalent, at best. Still, they were ready with weapons out and had pinned the two against the wall, surrounding them in a half circle.
Just as Daenerys and Domeric were beginning to despair, there was a flash of movement above them in the night sky.
Ranma had arrived that very evening in the city. After waiting as the captain went about his business, Ranma had slipped off, had immediately hidden under the Umi-Sen-Ken as he and Fenris, with some help From Ranma, took to the rooftops. Fenris couldn't perform the Umi-Sen-Ken but he could move silently even over the rooftops and had refused to stay behind, going so far as grabbing Ranma's arm in his teeth when he tried to leave.
Despite needing to help Fenris up onto the rooftops initially (the direwolf couldn't quite jump high enough to make the jump himself), Ranma hadn't argued. He wanted to finish this job quickly and get back to King's Landing. Being away from his family like this was giving him an uneasy feeling. With Fenris watching from the rooftops, Ranma soon found people willing to give him directions to Illyrio's mansion. The name of the magister backing the Targaryen siblings had been among the information Varys passed on, though that was nearly all the information he had save the plan for Daenerys and the Dothraki.
When he finally caught sight of the mansion, Illyrio's home was on fire. Figuring this would only make his job simpler, he continued on. He arrived on a nearby rooftop overlooking the mansion's wall just as several guards ran two fleeing individuals to earth, pinning them against the inner side of the wall so they could not escape.
By the light of the fire Ranma could see that one of them was a woman whose hair was silver-blond. The other's face looked somewhat familiar in the fire light. It took a moment for Ranma to recognize it but when he did he shook his head. "What are the odds?" he said to himself. "Still, if Domeric is here and helping that one, who I guess would be Daenerys, that's a mark in her favor at least. One is better than none, though I wonder what they are carrying there, pretty large for gems." With that, he jumped forward, easily clearing the wall to land among their attackers.
The guards looked up in shock as someone (they couldn't make out much of his features in the fire light) seemingly jumped from beyond the mansion's wall to land in their midst. A hand flashed out, on the end of which was some odd looking large triangular shaped knife or something. The blade slammed into the ring mail protected chest of one of the guards, bursting through the armor and into the man's chest killing him instantly. A kick sent another guard flying backwards through the air to land in a broken heap several yards away.
The guards turned and charged this madman that had appeared in their midst. At that point Domeric quickly grabbed up his blade, slicing one of the men in the back as the guard rather stupidly turned away from the bard. After that however, his contribution to the skirmish was over.
Instead, Domeric gaped in astonishment at their savior who could be no other than Ranma Stark. Even years later, Domeric could recognize those features and those bright blue eyes, lit as his face was by the light of the fire from the house. Ranma Stark? He barked a laugh, shaking his head incredulously. "The old gods move in mysterious ways."
Within seconds, the men were down and their savior turned to them. "Daenerys Stormborn, I presume?"
Daenerys looked at him in shock for a moment, then reflexively caught the shirt that had just been tossed to her with only two fingers of one hand, trying desperately to hold it and the two eggs. She very briefly handed one of the swiftly warming and now actually rippling eggs to Domeric, as she pulled on the shirt one arm at a time. "You have me at a distinct disadvantage, Ser. Who are you, and where did you come from?"
"He is Ranma Stark." Domeric said looking at Ranma, his eyes still wide even as he held the moving rock that he had previously thought was some kind of gem. He looked down it in shock as he felt something inside the egg move. He was more than happy to hand it back to Daenerys when she finished pulling on Ranma's shirt. "I can never forget that face, though why he is here, I don't know."
Across from them, Ranma laughed quietly to himself. Here she's standing there with her clothing in burnt tatters, using those dragon eggs, if that's what they are, to cover her modesty, battered, wounded, and probably exhausted, and yet, she's still poised and in control. What a woman! My father was wrong; this is no girl but a woman in truth.
Ranma reached forward and taking the egg from Domeric before Domeric could pass it over to Daenerys, smiling slightly as he felt the heat coming from it and realized they were not just fossilized eggs after all. Daenerys glared, but stilled as Ranma turned to her, tugging at the hem of the large shirt she now wore unconsciously for some reason. "Right now, I think we need to get out of here. Unless you can tell me that no one else is going to be chasing after you?"
Daenerys nodded with a jerk of her head, looking over Ranma's shoulder worriedly at the fire that had spread throughout the large mansion's first story. Most of the guards would be busy trying to contain the fire but the fire had already attracted a lot of attention from the rest of the city and guardsmen from the other mansions nearby and even the city watch would be hurrying towards it to aid in putting out the fire.
There was nothing organized about it; it was pure self-interest at its finest. After all, a fire that got out of control of the city wouldn't care who burned to death, rich or poor, and the damage to houses and merchandise would be even worse.
Still, she wasn't about to go unquestioningly with Ranma, no matter how he had arrived on the scene to rescue them just in the nick of time. "How do you suppose we do that?"
"I have a ship waiting for me in the harbor. The captain's been paid to take me both ways."
Domeric shook his head, looking around worriedly. Thankfully, the eastern section of the mansion's grounds was at the back of the mansion, away from the well, but they were still too close to the mansion for his liking. "We'll never get to the port. I don't doubt that the magister will have already sent a runner to close it against us."
"Then it will go badly for anyone who tries to stop us." Ranma said still looking down at the dragon egg he held. He smiled grimly as he handed it over to the Targaryen princess.
It would appear as if this foolish mission the King sent me on has a major upside, though not for him. That thought nearly came out as a snarl in his head. No, the dragons and their Princess will be much more useful on the Wall then holed up somewhere in King's Landing at Robert's pleasure. And that, of course, supposes that Robert would be able to stop himself from killing her or them on sight, something I'm not exactly sure of.
"You haven't told me why you're here yet Ranma Stark, nor why you are willing to help me." Daenerys said backing away now that she had both of her dragon eggs in her hands. A pang went through her again at having to leave the third behind but she couldn't have taken all three, she only had two hands after all. Even so, it had been hard leaving it behind in her brother's hands and she knew trouble would come of it.
Next to her Domeric nodded along with her words, though he trusted Ranma somewhat. They hadn't exactly been friends but Domeric trusted Ranma to do what he thought was right, and Domeric still retained his loyalty to house Stark and to Ranma personally for his rescue all those years ago. And if he wanted us dead, he would already have attacked.
Ranma smiled approvingly at Daenerys. "Good to know you still have your head on your shoulders even during a crisis like this." Before she could say anything to that, Daenerys found herself lifted into his arms, eggs and all. "Unfortunately, explanations can take a while so unless you want to wait until your pursuers arrive to hear it…"
The Targaryen Princess ignored that. She was busy trying to figure out how to slap him for his insolence in touching her while still retaining her hold on her dragon eggs .
Instead she let out a squeak, though she would later deny it, as Ranma rocketed up into the air to land on a rooftop nearby. There she found herself staring into the face of an enormous wolf. She never seen a wolf in real life but there was no denying what it was. She inched backwards against Ranma's chest for a moment before she got control of herself and hurriedly moved away when Ranma set her on her feet. "Wh-what?"
Ranma looked at the wolf for second and the direwolf, for at that size it had to be one of the almost mythical beasts, part of her mind gibbered to itself, laid down on his stomach and she felt herself being moved to straddle it's back. "You'll have to hold on with your legs if you don't want Domeric or I to hold those eggs."
Daenerys immediately clutched the eggs to her chest, glaring at him. Coming from a sixteen year old girl in her current predicament it should have been a cute or possibly angry expression, but on her, it was somehow more imperious than anything else despite the state of her clothing. Ranma chuckled lightly. "Thought not. I'll be right back."
A second later, he returned with Domeric, who looked as frazzled by the experience as Daenerys had been.
"Sorry we don't have time to look at that shoulder of yours, Domeric, and you and I are gonna have a little chat about a certain song of yours but now isn't the time for it. Let's get moving." Ranma said and Fenris stood up with Daenerys on his back. Daenerys lost hold of the greenish dragon egg as she automatically tried to clutch at the direwolf's fur with one hand but Ranma quickly moved to catch it.
He looked at Daenerys, who glared back, holding out one hand, her violet eyes locked commandingly on Ranma's own. Ranma grinned in mixed approval and admiration, then passed the egg over before moving slightly behind her. His hands lightly touched her thighs and buttocks, moving her forward slightly along Fenris' back. "Grip here with your legs, Daenerys, and lay forward as much as possible. That might let you use Fenris's back and your own chest to hold the eggs to free up a hand."
Daenerys shivered and not, she was surprised to realize, in revulsion at Ranma's touch on her bare skin. She hesitantly did as suggested, which did indeed allow her to free one arm to wrap around Fenris' neck. Turning to look at her the direwolf made a huffing sort of sound which blew his breath into Daenerys' face, but all Daenerys could see in that face with those fierce golden eyes was curiosity and amusement. For some reason that which made her feel more at ease.
While Ranma had been helping the Stormborn settle herself, Domeric had pulled off his belt, using it to tie his arm around himself to try and keep it still so as to keep from further aggravating his injury. When Ranma turned to him, he nodded, understanding that Ranma would have to carry him since Domeric lacked the skill to make his way over rooftops, as seemed the plan. He wondered how Ranma had learned that skill, as well as how good the direwolf was at it but, for now, he pushed aside such thoughts. Getting away was paramount.
Ranma picked Domeric up in his arms once more, taking a moment to glare down at him. "If you make up a song about this, I will hurt you, worse if you change your part into a woman again. I hate to tell you, I don't swing that way." Domeric winced, not looking forward to that conversation, as Ranma nodded over at Fenris. "Let's go!" With that, he raced away, moving easily over the rooftops, jumping from roof to roof with astonishing ease to his passenger.
Fenris followed, with Daenerys clinging to his back like a limpet. Even so, she exulted in the speed with which the direwolf moved after its master, wondering if riding one of her dragons would feel similar. Soon Fenris caught up with Ranma, in time to hear Domeric ask. "I had heard that the Starks had found direwolves from Ser Jorah, though I hadn't realized how big they could be."
"Ser Jorah?" Ranma asked looking down at him. "I remember that name, wasn't he the one who ran off to avoid execution for slavery?"
"The very same. He showed up here a few months ago to offer his services to the Targaryen. He brought a lot of information, though he was also promised a captaincy in whatever army we put together."
Ranma frowned. "I wonder if he was the one to tell the Master of Whispers what was going on here."
"And is that why you are here?" Daenerys asked looking over at him. Despite the exhilaration she was feeling at getting away from Viserys and their present mode of transportation, her mind was still working. She was quickly becoming aware she might have merely changed one type of prison for another.
"Robert and Varys certainly seemed to think so." Ranma said laughing aloud and looking over at her before looking away. This girl is gorgeous! Yep he thought to himself, competence and personal courage are definite turn-ons for me.
He shook his head to get rid of that thought, now was not the time for it. "The King heard what you and your brother, apparently, were planning, and wanted to send some assassins after you." Ranma shrugged even as his two listeners stiffened. "Needless to say my father and I would not have anything to do with it but Littlefinger, I don't know about him, the Master of coin, he outmaneuvered us. At his suggestion, the King ordered me here to find the two of you and return you to him. He thinks that I'll put you down like dogs if you are a threat but frankly I'm no assassin and I would not follow such an order."
"In my brother's case that might be a pity." Daenerys said, shaking her head then had to spit out a few hairs that got into her mouth thanks to the wind in her face. "Yet, that does not tell me what you plan for me. If you do not wish to return me to King's Landing, what do you plan?"
"That will wait until we are aboard the ship." Ranma said a little grimly. "I'd like an idea of what happened here before I tell you anything about me, milady. Regardless, we might need to know everything you can tell us about your brother and his schemes to appease the king, but you personally will be safe, you have my word."
For a moment, Daenerys balked at the idea of selling her brother out to the Usurper let alone what else Ranma might ask of her. But then one of the draklings actually started to make noises in its shell and she felt something bump against the outer membrane of her egg. For her children, she would wait until she heard what else Ranma had to say.
In an astonishingly short amount of time, they had crossed the entire city and were now overlooking the wharf area, where the rooftops gave way to the docks. The business of the city did not stop during the night. Daenerys could see dozens of men still working, so it didn't surprise her when they looped around slightly to come to a place where no one was working for the moment.
There Ranma and Fenris dropped from the roof into an open area between several large crates and some kind of warehouse. With Ranma leading the way, followed by Fenris still carrying Daenerys, and then Domeric, the group with made their way through the docks to the waiting ship at the end of its quay.
The two guards on duty gaped at Ranma and his guests. Though they were simple sailors, even they knew the traits that denoted one of House Targaryen. That and the eggs they were carrying, which were now rocking and moving violently in Daenerys' arms, was enough to tell them who this young woman was.
The moment they were up the gangplank, Ranma barked out orders. "You two, raid Fenris' portion of the food locker for some meat, dice it small, then bring it to my room in a bowl."
Beside him Fenris looked a little miffed for a second, pulling in his tongue and baring his fangs but then shook his head and moved over to Daenerys. Daenerys had moved away quickly from the giant wolf the moment that they were on firm ground but she stilled as the creature snuffled at her and her two eggs. She actually giggled when the creature licked her side of her face then nuzzled one of the eggs, which was already cracking. The drakling inside stilled a little and began to make a cheeping noise of some sort, almost as if it was curious.
"What else will we need?"
That question brought Daenerys' attention back to Ranma, and she frowned, thinking hard. "A brazier of some kind. We'll need to keep them warm once the shell breaks until their first layer of scales begins to harden. After that, all those who are not of Targaryen blood will have to stay away from them. They will attack anyone else who comes near and, though they won't be able to breathe fire yet, they'll still bite. Daily feedings of meat for now, later we will need to change their diet when they start breathing fire, but for right now the meat will do.""
Ranma nodded, looking over at the two sailors who nodded back rapidly before rushing off. With that taken care of, Ranma led the way down into the ship to his room. Opening the door and looking around he frowned, his eyes narrowing.
Seeing Ranma's expression, Domeric asked. "Were you expecting someone to be here already? And if so, who?"
"I was, yes, but they snuck aboard. I assume that they can handle themselves and they aren't my main concern right now, just wish I knew what they were up to." That sounded a little callous when he said it was the truth.
He looked back as the egg that had already begun to crack was broken further, and a mewling sound was heard as a small greenish reptilian snout poked out, capped by a horn of bone, which it must have used to break its way out. Daenerys laughed aloud in delight, reaching down to stroke the little snout, which caused it to retreat for a moment before it began to make more mewling noises, either in pleasure at the touch or for food..
Behind them, the door was still open and one of the sailors that had been on guard came in holding a plate full of small chunks of meat.
Daenerys quickly pointed to where she wanted them, going down on her knees next to the plate on the ground, she reached forward to grab a piece with her fingers and gently fed the drakling, holding the piece over the hole it had made in its shell. At first, the baby dragon was wary but the smell of meat got to it quickly and its snout appeared to take a bite of the meal.
Further cracking and more mewling announced that the other dragon had begun to break out of its shell in turn.
The two sailors looked in shock at the dragons and Ranma pushed them both out of the doorway. He turned to Domeric. "Lock this after I go. I'll get us under way, then we can look at that shoulder."
Domeric nodded wearily, he had lost a bit of blood, and his shoulder was really paining him. But he didn't turn away from the sight of the two draklings struggling out of their eggs to get at the meat in Daenerys' hands, which she had held further away with each bit, urging them to come further out of their shells.. Such a sight hadn't been seen in hundreds of years and the bard in him was ecstatic to be here to witness it.
He quickly found the captain who had been roused by the guards at some point and the man shook his head. "I didn't think you'd do it, lad. I thought for sure you'd simply have killed the two Targaryens. I take it that this one, at least, is peaceable?"
"That remains to be seen but she was running away from the other one." Ranma said seeing no point in not sharing that. "What happened to Princess Arianne and Obara?"
"They left about an hour after you did." The man replied, shrugging. "They watched as we sold off some of the cargo we had in our hold, though I'll tell you now I didn't sell off more than half of my stock. I'll demand recompense when we returned to King's Landing. After that, they went off, I don't care where. Since they snuck aboard my ship, they sure as hell weren't my responsibility."
"I'm sure you'll be paid at some point." Ranma said with a shrug. "Right now, cast off and get us out of here."
The captain scowled. "I don't like leaving in the dark like this. Ships can be banned for that kind of thing in the free cities."
"There are other ports, captain." Ranma said, looking at him now sternly. "And what exactly about what I just said made you think I was giving you a choice?"
The captain glared a little but knew better than to push it. He and his crew were still rather terrified of the Stark heir. The Memory of the battle that had occurred with the Ironborn and the amount of carnage Ranma and Fenris had handed out saw to that. "Alright, but what about the so-called princess and her servant?"
Ranma shrugged again. "Arianne and Obara can handle themselves. They were here for a reason. If they didn't want to stick around and wait for me to return, then it's obvious they had other plans already in mind. What those plans might be I don't know but it's out of my hands now."
The captain, whose name Ranma had never bothered to learn, scowled a little but nodded. With that he will went below again to browse his crew and Ranma moved quickly to the side of the ship facing the port, one katar out and ready, while his other hand held his katana. If they were boarded by the low slung cutters Pentos used for its port guards, the extra range would allow him to strike further down the ship's side rather than wait for the boarders to get onto the ship's deck.
Moments later the crew, roused by their sleep and grumbling about it, came up and got to work. Luckily, the captain hadn't allowed any of them to take shore leave that first day, needing all hands on board for unloading. Now they set to with a will, despite knowing that they were being forced to leave. The story of two dragons had spread among them quickly and not a one of them was willing to see who could be chasing after the Targaryen girl.
The ropes tying the ship to the quay were released quickly. The punters pushed them further out to sea until the sails could catch the wind. Then they began to make their way out of the port, slowly but surely.
Ranma stayed where he was, staring back of the city to make certain they weren't being followed. For an hour, he stayed there as the ship cleared the port. Just as they were exiting the harbor, several guardhouses on the outcroppings of rocks that denoted the entrance to Pentos' natural harbor lit up behind them.
"Too little, too late." Ranma said shaking his head and smiling now. Inwardly though he was wondering what the other Targaryen would do now and what Arianne was up to.
He waited another thirty minutes and then, when it was clear that no one was following them and that the wind was helping them along as much is it could, Ranma went below.
He found Daenerys, one shoulder leaning against Fenris, singing something gently to the draklings. The brazier she had ordered was set nearby and the heat was somewhat oppressive in the room to Ranma's northern sensibilities. Still, he wasn't about to argue as the little dragons probably needed it. Fenris lay still next to her and the little dragons were curled up along his side between him and the Targaryen Princess.
The sight made Ranma pause for a moment for several reasons. First, Fenris never took to people so quickly, becoming comfortable with the girl that close in so short a time. Children yes, like his master Fenris had a soft spot for youngsters. But Daenerys was in no way a child, whatever Ranma and his father had thought initially. She had the body of a young woman, an incredibly beautiful young woman.
Which brought him to the second reason he paused. Daenerys still wore his shirt, though her side seemed to also have some bandages wrapped around it, covering the shallow cut she had there when they first met. The shirt had fallen off the shoulder of the arm she hadn't thrown over Fenris' back. Her bare knees showed where she had crossed them under the bare remnants of her skirt, burned almost to uselessness in the fire, and the bottom of his shirt. Her hair was splayed out over the direwolf's as Daenerys nuzzled into his fur, her eyes half-closed in pleasure of the feeling while she kept on crooning gently to the draklings beside her.. There was something astonishingly primitive about the image yet it was powerful all the same.
Ranma shook that thought out of his head, ignoring how good she looked in his shirt, how it made her look… his. Yep, courage, self-control, and competence are definite turn-ons for me.
When he regained control of himself, the singing had stopped. Ranma found Daenerys looking up at him with those violet eyes of hers, though they were still soft at present thanks to the two draklings beside her. "I take it we have made good our escape?" she asked, her voice low.
"We have." Ranma said nodding and talking quietly as well, looking over at where Domeric was leaning against the wall nearby. The man had his sword out and looked ready for trouble.
He shook his head no when Ranma looked at him. "Just in case." he said, sheathing his blade. Ranma nodded before calmly removing his sword belt containing his katars setting them on the bed along with his katana. Then he moved around it to sit next to Fenris, placing the direwolf between him and Daenerys.
"I have to thank you for your aid, again." Daenerys said looking at him, though the words came out as if they were painful. "But now that we are safe, I believe you owe us an exclamation as to what your plans for us going forward are."
"You first." Ranma said, smirking a little, causing her eyes to flare in anger but he shook his head. "Calmly, lady." He leaned over to look at the two draklings. One of them, almost as if it had been roused by her anger, was awake now and moving about, looking up at them. "Why don't you explain why you were running first, then I will explain to you what I plan for you and your little dragons."
Daenerys glared at him some more. She had not come this far just to bow willingly to someone else's whims but when she caught his eyes they were deadly serious, filled with a grim purpose whose origin she couldn't guess at present.
. After a moment, she relented. She told him about all that had happened since they had entered the city, about how she had begun to chafe under her brothers control, of how Viserys had slowly changed over time, going from the kind, gentle brother who was always looking out for her to this insane madman who didn't care how many lives he ruined as he trampled his way towards the throne.
"Do not mistake me." Daenerys said earnestly, her yes capturing Ranma's again. "I desire to sit on the Iron Throne as much as my brother. It was the right of our family to do so, whatever my father the Mad King did, or even our oldest brother, Rhaegar. But I will not build a mountain of corpses to get there. "If we cannot rally the people to our cause, then our cause is obviously not just enough."
Ranma nodded, then looked over at Domeric. "Is this Viserys mad or simply uncaring and ambitious?"
"I would say is quite a bit closer to mad than merely ambitious. Daenerys wasn't exaggerating. He will literally carve his way through Westeros to earn the throne if he can."
Ranma's eyes narrowed in thought processing what it said about Viserys while also, wondering what the hell Arianne was up to. He hoped that wouldn't turn out as bad as he feared down the line with her near such a man. But even Ranma couldn't have fought an entire city, which was what he would have had to do if they had waited long enough for him to hunt the two missing women down, if he could have found them at all in a foreign city.
"And now it is your turn." Daenerys said firmly. "What do you want from me and what is your price for my freedom?"
"How much has Domeric told you about the legends of the North?" Ranma asked, leaning against Fenris.
He stuck his hand over the wolf's side, gently waving his fingers at the drakling. It snapped at his fingers , catching one of them in its jaws, then seemed surprised when its teeth couldn't pierce Ranma's skin.
Gotta love ki strengthening, he thought to himself, shaking his head when Daenerys looked a little surprised at that as well. Ranma flicked the little creature with his other finger causing it to let go with a squawk, then stroked its head with the same finger before Daenerys could calm it.
"Precious little." Domeric said, having watched the little exchange and shaking his head in surprise. Evidently, the Stark heir had a way with animals that went beyond his giant direwolf. And the fact that the direwolf and the two dragons got along so well was astonishing in and of itself.
"That makes the explanation a little more difficult." Ranma said his free hand scratching at his pigtail for a moment. "Have you heard news of the King Beyond the Wall?"
"Yes." Daenerys said nodding her head. "We were all thinking that it might be enough reason for you to be called home from King's Landing. I take it, by the way, that your courtship with Margaery of House Tyrell didn't go forward?"
For some reason, that thought made her smile. It wasn't simply that Ranma was handsome or that he had helped her. There was this air of solidity about him, coupled with a cheerfulness that she liked, and he was good with her dragons. Indeed, even now, one of his hands continued to play with the cream colored drakling, causing it to make little warbling noises deep in its throat as it tried, with all the tenacity and lack of coordination of a newborn, to pounce on Ranma's fingers.
Ranma ignored that question, not certain exactly where he and Margaery stood. Yes, he knew her family had postponed a formal arrangement and even called her home to halt their 'courtship' but where he and Margaery stood was up in the air. They hadn't been romantically involved but there was a chance for that to occur in future, though that wasn't something he wanted to think about, at present. Not when Daenerys was looking at him with those enticing violet eyes.
"Historically speaking," Ranma went on slowly, "there have been other threats beyond the Wall, though they have not been seen for ages, literally. I'm certain as a bard that you are familiar with some of the ancient legends?"
For a moment, that line went over Domeric's head while Daenerys frowned. "I know of many legends from beyond the Wall, tales that say the forest children might still reside somewhere there, tales that speak of giants and other creatures that have never been seen on this side of the Wall."
"What about White Walkers?" Ranma said, interrupting him, finally just stating it.
Domeric's eyes widened. "Th-those are myths." he stammered. "Tales told by fireside, there has not been a single sighting of a White Walker in eight millennia. They are dead and gone!"
"No, they're not, are they?" Daenerys said shaking her head. She was watching Ranma's face and saw something there that worried her. "This King Beyond the Wall, he isn't the only threat is he?"
Ranma nodded grimly. "They're real enough. Though I have never seen one of the White Walkers themselves, I have seen their creatures." He began to describe the skirmish that had occurred with the wolfsworn against the forces of endless winter, how Ranma feared that a true winter was coming and with it the ancient enemy.
"So you see…" he said looking over the side of Fenris to the now sleeping drakling, curled up with its still sleeping sibling. "Whatever the reason, I'm ecstatic that you found these two. After all, dragon-fire was one of the most potent weapons against the forces of winter."
Daenerys nodded thoughtfully. "So in return for your protection against the King and anyone else, I must help you and yours up on the Wall? Is that it?"
"Yes, that's pretty much it." Ranma nodded with a small smile. "Not such a bad deal is it?"
"And my ambitions?" Daenerys asked, looking at him somewhat coldly. She agreed that such an evil needed to be faced, but she still desired to sit on the Iron Throne. "What of them?"
Ranma frowned. "Protecting you from Robert is a long way from helping you overthrow him." He paused, thinking of the message from his father he still kept hidden in his pocket, unopened. He felt that if his father wanted to tell him something, he could tell it to Ranma in person. He knew it was irrational, but a part of him feared what the letter might tell him, merging with the growing concern of what might be happening back in King's Landing while he was away.
"I do not think your name will garner you as much or the sort of support you want nor would I be willing to allow you to try if doing so shattered the unity of the kingdom. We need to stand together against the forces of winter. After that, well, you could always marry the King's son and become Queen? That would get my sister out of the chore, in any event, and would get you close to that torture device you all call a throne." Ranma smirked at that point.
Daenerys actually laughed, shaking her head, sending her silver hair flashing in the light of the brazier. The noise struck Ranma to the quick, like bells sent to tinkling by a wild wind. "Ha, no thank you. I can tell from your face you have a reason to get your sister away from him so why would I wish to take her place?"
She went on more seriously. "But you have to admit that Robert Baratheon set a dangerous precedent with his war against my family? We've heard tell of the battles for influence between House Stark and House Lannister. Your unity might already be fractured."
Sighing, Ranma stood up, moving over to Domeric, who had bandaged his arm as best he could on his own. "Again, lady, there is a vast difference between might be and is. We will see what transpires for now, making plans too far ahead is never a good idea. Now, let me see that arm Domeric. While I do that you can explain to me, Domeric, why you made your part in our meeting into a woman in that damn song and why I have flowing locks after you promised not to use such in any song with me in it!"
At Domeric's pained expression, Daenerys again laughed, thinking that regardless of anything else, knowing Ranma would interesting, at the least.
OOOOOOO
"Let her go." Viserys said, smiling faintly as he looked down at the black skinned drakling in his arms, ignoring the apoplectic face of Illyrio for the moment. The man had just informed him that a ship had managed to slip out of the port before his order to have it closed could reach the harbor.
The creature had bit him at first but Viserys had refused to give in, simply staring the creature down, and it eventually let his finger go lapping at it apologetically before chewing down on the bits of meet that Viserys had ordered prepared for it. Now it was sleeping off its food induced torpor but he couldn't leave it alone, what it represented and what it meant for his plans was simply too important.
"Tell the barbarians whatever you want, that she was stolen away by a rival or even that someone from Westeros came and took her because the Usurper feared their union. We might yet be able to convince him to loan at least some troops that way, especially considering the damage to your mansion makes it look as if that was indeed the case. But that isn't important anymore. With this drakling, with my Balerion, we can conquer Westeros, as my ancestors did with the original!"
"Even if your sister has two of the dragons with her?" Illyrio asked, calming down somewhat. Having his mansion burned as it was, losing so many paintings, tapestries, and other priceless items had hammered his control badly. Still, the sight of Viserys with the dragon gave him hope, though the u chewing out the Prince had given him for hiding the fact he had the dragon eggs and not told Viserys about them had been unpleasant.
"That is what assassins are for." Viserys said coldly. "The moment she left here, my sister became just another enemy and, without the traitor, those dragons will become wild and uncontrollable, more of a danger to anyone around them then they would be to their enemies." The fact that his sister gotten away with two of the creatures was appalling but he could bear the shame for now.
"We are still investigating how they actually escaped from my property. There is evidence that she had help. Seven guards were found dead by the wall and, no matter how good he was with a blade, the bard couldn't have done that. Added to damage to my mansion, the deaths among my guardsmen and your Balerion will be enough to offset the anger that Khal Drogo will feel at once more not being presented with his gift. Indeed, your plan on blaming the Usurper has merit." Illyrio said thoughtfully. "Do it well enough and maybe he'll be willing to try to get over his people's fear of the water and still join with us."
"Sir." said a guard, interrupting the two of them from where they had been talking near a table that had been set up by the gateway into the magister's grounds. The mansion itself was still smoking in places, the fire that Daenerys had started in the kitchen and the hallway had spread widely. Illyrio's love of wooden floors and the sheer amount of oil and alcohol that Daenerys had used caused it to spread quickly.
"What is it?" the magister asked looking up at the man.
"There are two women here to see you, they insist on seeing you now, and say they have information you and your guest will want to hear."
"Send them in." the magister said and his eyes widened. He could recognize both came from Dorne but the one in the lead…
The woman in the lead was short but beautiful, with olive skin, large dark eyes, and long, black hair that fell to the middle of her back, seemingly just washed. Her dress, which was made of flowing silks of red and tan, hugged her impressive figure and she wore several pieces of jewelry that looked like they wouldn't have been out of place in his strong room.
The women stared at the little dragon in Viserys' arms, then the first one smiled, licking her lips. She had been dismayed at first to see the damage done to the mansion, which had made her question the wisdom of leaving Ranma to his own devices. Yet, she hadn't been making any headway influencing him. She had hoped to get here before he did, having no clue how fast Ranma could travel via rooftops, but evidently something had happened here anyway, though she didn't know if Ranma was involved.
Now however, seeing Viserys Targaryen holding a young baby dragon in his arms, she knew she had made the correct decision, whatever else had happened. "It looks as if this plan at least has succeeded somewhat. Greetings, Your Highness. I am Princess Arianne of Dorne. I believe we have much to discuss."
OOOOOOO
As the ship carrying Ranma and Daenerys made its way back to King's Landing, a message was on its way, a small Raven from the Maester's Citadel marked, strangely enough, like it had come from Winterfell. In Westeros, it was often said that fell news flew on black wings. In this case, that would be an understatement because the events this message would set in motion would shake the entire world to its core.
End chapter
And now, as I said, bad things have begun to happen. I deeply regretted Tommen's death, but with the way Joffrey is, he would not allow even his younger brother to take that which he sees as his by right away from him, and would not turn from any act to keep it. Before you ask, yes it might well have happened this way even if Ranma was still around. After all, he didn't eat all his meals with Tommen.
Sorry to everyone who wanted Daenerys to have her own adventures, though I will tell you that, obviously, Ranma's plans for Daenerys and her dragons won't really occur the way he wants them to. Essos and its people will still figure in the background, but now the action heats up in Westeros.
I could have kept going, I have a few scenes for what happens next in king's landing already written, but this was the only place that felt like a real chapter ending, rather than a huge cliff hanger.
Oh, and some people may think I am overdoing the whole 'women using their wiles' thing, remember both Westeros and Essos are strongly patriarchal in nature. Women need to use any tool they can to get their way or protect themselves. It just isn't a tactic that works well for that purpose on Ranma.
And for those who think I am painting Cersei in too kind a light, wait until next chapter, where she proves that she is still the queen bitch.
