Rhaegar
The palace was a stony island in a sea of grey.
It took Rhaegar half his strength to climb up. By the time he reached up he was gasping for air. His muscles ached, and he felt as if he had the beginnings of a fever. That day, he remembered. Everything had started with that day. The rocks had scraped his hands raw when he had stayed safe against them. They are better than they were, though, he decided as he picked at a broken blister.
The palace loomed larger from up here. The Braavosi had taken to calling it Dragonstone, after the ancient citadel which was the ancestral seat of the Targaryens. The building looked nothing like Dragonstone, but the people called it so after all this was the first time the Braavosi were seeing a dragon. Smoothened stones and brushed marbles formed the building; stones and slabs of marbles higher than any normal man. All throughout the sides gilded panes were set making the walls glimmer in the light. Though it was called Dragonstone, the palace never felt home.
Each morning, from the western ramparts, the king would count the sails on the grey-green waters of the Braavosi lagoon where the narrow sea and the Shivering sea met.
Today he counted five-and-twenty, though some were far away and moving, so it was hard to be certain. Sometimes he missed one, or counted one twice. What does it matter? A man only needs ten fingers to strangle the life out of one. All trade in Braavos had stopped, and the fisherfolk did not dare put out into the bay. The boldest still dropped a few lines through the grey-green rivers of Braavos, though even that was hazardous with a killer on the loose; more of the ships and cogs and others of the kind remained tied up in the Purple Harbor and the Ragman Harbor.
From his castle he could see water everywhere all running throughout Braavos like the nerves would to a man. Beneath his palace, a slender thread glittered briefly against the light of the rising. A stream. Small, but it would lead to a larger stream, and that stream would flow into some little river, and that little river would join itself to a canal and all the canals in this city of Braavos would lead to the Long Canal, the broadest of all the waterways in Braavos. Once he found the Long Canal he need only follow it downstream to the Purple Harbor. And there he would find the whoreson who had tried to kill him the very first day he entered Braavos. Or rather that's what everyone told him except they never did anything of what they told. Rhaegar had been too occupied with everything that was happening around him and was too stupid to hear their words. He should've called back his men and send them upstream the Long Canal and dispatched them off to every canal which broke off it in search for him. If the man was half as clever as the warrior he was he would've gone upstream that way he could've turned their search a hundred times harder and could've wasted most of their time with the endless branch canals of the Long Canal. In the end he did just that, fooling all of them.
All the while they were searching in the downstream for him the son of a bitch had managed to sneak his way upstream and then up through some canal and then to a river and then to a stream and hence he might have ended up at some end of this endless city. And now they might want to sweep off this entire city in order to find him. And searched him they did but they could not find him.
Two days have already past and still, there was no word about the assassin. His archers promised him that their shots had been sure and there was no way a man could escape from that. Still, Rhaegar did not see or hear about a corpse strewn with arrows. He had asked the Lord Commander of his Kingsguard to sent men to all the maesters in Braavos. Even if the arrows hadn't managed to kill the assassin it would surely bleed him to death or fester the wound further into infection unless he finds a right maester to mend it. There was no desired outcome in that part as well. No one came to the maesters with an arrow shot. Still, the King kept his faith that someone would bring him the butchered body of the bastard.
Once again Janos Slynt's words had proved worse than useless. "No one is said to have seen a corpse struck down by arrows," Slynt said. "The only corpses my men could find were five terribly disfigured, the bodies of the people who were trampled to death in the commotion caused by the assassin. And of course a good number of our men and the Braavosi guards and sellswords but none was found struck down by arrows."
Rhaegar had seen the bloody corpses of course. He had terribly wanted for one of them to be the assassin. But they were only some unfortunate smallfolk who were stepped to death by the people gathered there. Three men, two too old to be the assassin and one too young, some boy of nine or ten and a woman with her child, none of them bore a wound of arrow shot.
"I never asked you to count the assassin's kill, Janos," Rhaegar said. "You are the commander of the city watch, are you not?" "Commander of the city watch of King's Landing, Your Grace."
"King's Landing, Braavos, what difference does it make?" Rhaegar looked at the frog-faced man. "If you cannot follow the king's orders, Janos, perhaps the CityWatch should be commanded by someone who can."
Stout, jowly Janos Slynt puffed himself up like an angry frog, his bald pate reddening. "Half my men died to the assassin's blade and the other half is missing. I've put up a ragged band from the remnants of our men in the search party, men who are hurt, harmed and frightened. I need more men."
"Get all the men you want from Braavosi. They are involving themselves in this search as well."
"Most of the Braavosi nobles shut themselves in their palaces with men all around them. The sea lord himself has isolated himself in his palace and barred his doors. And the reports of their finding is no less than a jape. They accuse us of disturbing their peace, that before Your Grace and Prince Viserys arrived here they were all fine and good. They even claim that this is the Dragons' Doom, the same one which doomed Valyria now returned back to claim its last line."
Their bitterness dismayed him, so much so that Rhaegar found himself wondering if the Braavosi smallfolk themselves is hiding this assassin to kill him. At least the nobles were with him. He's been hearing from the Braavosi as well but their reports too were no much better than Slynt's. "Join your men with the Braavosi and work together. Now, Leave."
"As you say, Your Grace." Slynt said bowing. When the commander had taken his leave, Rhaegar Targaryen turned to his kingsguard. Four had come with him but only three stood beside him now, Ser Gerold, Ser Barristan and Ser Lewyn who was injured. Ser Jaime Lannister was returning to Lannisport covered in his white cloak to rest with his forefathers in Casterly Rock. Rhaegar knew that Tywin Lannister would blame him for his death just like he had blamed his father for naming his precious heir in the Kingsguard. That's one on his head too now, calming the Lion of the west. Though Ser Jaime Lannister did his duty as the kingsguard and gave his life to protect his king, his father would claim otherwise as if Rhaegar himself took Ser Jaime in this journey to kill him. Damn him. Damn the assassin. Damn them all. He turned to Ser Gerold "How well do we fare here, Ser Gerold?"
The White Bull had a plain look about his face. Though he never tried to show it Rhaegar could see it on the knight's face. They mourn for their brother, just like they had done to Arthur. "The guards have been doubled throughout the palace, Your Grace," Ser Gerold said. "There are men at every entrance and archers at every high end."
I had men around me on that day as well, for all that it is worth. The assassin had almost managed to get his hands on him if not for the archers he had sent to provide overwatch. Ser Gerold and Ser Barristan had been his last line of defence. His front lines were falling steadily to one man. He remembered seeing white jacket streaming in the cold morning air, black hair, dark as midnight and a blue sword twirling and slashing, waking blood all along the way it turned.
That much he could recall, though much of what happened was a haze. So many people, screaming and shoving. He remembered Ser Jaime fall, Ser Lewyn falling and arrows punching, a food cart spilling melons as it overturned, a splash of water. From above arrows came flying, followed by a flight of crossbow bolts from the men on the ground. All vanished beneath the green waters of the Long Canal with a pop. He remembered the men twisting around him, dying and screaming, as he stayed behind his men in safety. Men were loosing bolts in the water trying to get another hit. None dared to enter the canal, whether they were afraid of the assassin or the green waters of the Braavosi canal he couldn't say. When Rhaegar came away from the safety of his men, he saw men whirling, twisting in agony. Most had lost their limbs and the others mortally injured. A woman in a green gown reached for a weeping child, pulling him down into her arms to shield him from the fight. Rhaegar saw the color vividly, but not the woman's face. People were stepping on her as they lay tangled on the cobbled stone. Dozens of men died that day both his and the Braavosi and their sellswords and guards of other kinds, along with a kingsguard.
Though through the frenzy Rhaegar could swear that he saw a pair of grey eyes, cold and unyielding. So much like the one he had once seen before. No, it can't be, he brushed the thought away. It can't be. They are dead. It is just my imagination.
"What do you think about all of this, Ser?"
"Your Grace," Ser Gerold raised his eyebrow. "It is not my place to counsel you."
Rhaegar smiled at him. "Well speak freely, Ser. You are the lord commander of the kingsguard and you have a place in my small council. So tell us, Ser Gerold, what should we make of this situation?"
The old knight stood stiff. "If truth be told, Your Grace, the assassin might as well be lying dead in the bottom of some canal. He was shot thrice, one in the leg and twice in his upper body. Without a maester the man will either die of blood loss or of a mortified wound."
"One can know how to fix wounds, though." The day might come soon when he would have to see this dead man again. "Maybe he could've known how to patch himself up."
"Maybe, Your Grace," Ser Gerold admitted.
"And if he does will he come again?"
"He may come again, Your Grace."
"And what do you suggest we should do then?" Rhaegar asked.
"Let me speak frankly, Your Grace," Ser Gerold paused waiting for his approval. He continued when he nodded. "Don't overstay your welcome here like your brother did, Your Grace. Finish your work here and leave as soon as you can."
"You'd have me run?" Rhaegar asked him. "Run from some assassin filth who killed my brother?"
"I'm not telling you to run away from him, Your Grace," Ser Gerold replied. "Only that you leave this city. This is a hidden city, Your Grace. Even the Dragonlords of Old Valyria could not see this city from atop their dragons. You don't know what this city has for you and that's the strength of the assassin who knows this city very well. We never knew he was there until he was upon us with a sword. Leave this city and if somehow the assassin came back for you, let him come back to King's Landing."
King's Landing, Rhaegar stayed over that thought for some time. Yes, Yes... Let him come to King's Landing.
Author's Notes: So here it is, the aftermath of all that's happened. Thanks for reading the story and for the reviews and follows and favorites. Leave a review.
Replies to Guests.
To Guest(1) on chapter 19: Thanks for the comment mate. I really appreciate it.
To Guest(2) on chapter 19: Thank you very much for the appreciation. As I've already told Andrew's story is mainly inspired by the Arthurian legends. So yes their will be parallels and yes, Howland Reed, Littlefinger and the Three eyed rave will play a big part in the story. Also Frost(Andrew's sword) is designed with Excalibur in my mind, it is made with magic that's why it is so cold to touch. And yes, if your offer to be the beta still stands, I'm very much glad to take this up with you. So if you still interested in that PM me as you said.
To Guest(3): Thanks mate. Thanks for the appreciation.
To Guest(4): Wouldn't that be a sight? But who knows, maybe that will happen or something else might.