Chapter 11: Nightfall

Jon

"So that's why you asked me to get your men housed in the barracks up here." Manly Stokeworth forward in his chair, frowning, and laying his quill on his desk unused. They were in the goldcloak commander's solar now, and the sun was beginning to set.

"The decision is up to you, Commander." Jon made a point of fingering his sword's pommel as he spoke. "The King is mad, you know. I have made my case to you. What is your decision? These barracks are filled to the brim with our soldiers, all well-trained and battle-hardened, readying to fight. I do not ask much of you, merely that you spare yourself and your men unnecessary bloodshed, while we talk some sense into our ruler."

"The King is mad, indeed. As you no doubt remember, a few of my men have fallen afoul of the man and experienced… mild disfigurements. And he had a distant cousin of mine murdered because he happened to have a drop of Darklyn blood in his veins. But the fact remains, Aerys is the King. Can you guarantee that you can do this quickly and cleanly?"

"We have men stationed at the vital entrances. There will be no secret siege this time. It will be this night, or never, because every day of waiting means more death warrants sent for our comrades in rebel hands."

"The City Watch will not intervene against your plot." Manly leant back with a sigh.

Jon nodded slowly, wondering if this was all too good to be true. "Can you guarantee it?"

"My men are cowards. I will see to it that the barracks will be barred when most of your men leave, and my men on night duty will be sent down to the city. They are cowards, most of them, so they will not trouble you unless you force them."

"It makes one wonder why you would hire such men," Jon said.

Manly raised his eyebrows. "They are the only acceptable group of men I can choose from that are not scarcer than saffron. Only a handful of proven soldiers to go around, and most of them go for greener pastures than this stinking city." He grinned, exposing rank upon rank of corn-gold teeth. "Why the worried look?"

"Give your word of honor," Jon said. "By the Seven. I will not take my chances on this."

"By the Father and all the judgement I will receive if I break my word, the City Watch of King's Landing will not intervene against you and your conspirators when you make your effort tonight."

"And all days after."

"And for a year after," Manly grumbled back. "Give me some room to breathe. I cannot fulfil my duties if some potentially treasonous oath keeps me leashed for the rest of my life."

"Fine," Jon said. He stood up. "You will be held to your word." He started down the stairs to the door.

"You used to be the reckless one," Manly shouted at his back. "Why all the caution now?"

Jon stopped. "Rhaegar is dead," he said. "And I will not squander the future of his children like I squandered his life."

Jonothor

Every step had become a pain. The knight who had cut his right leg was long dead, but Jonothor found himself cursing the bastard as he limped on the way to his brother's room. The healers he cursed as well, for failing to treat the wound before it got inflamed.

Night was swift approaching, and Jonothor had little time left to spare. Jon had assured him they would move against the Dornishmen soon, and that Willem had agreed to it. All was going to plan for now, but Jonothor had no desire to fight his brother when the fighting would begin in earnest. The salty spring winds blew through the hallways like ghosts. Was Hoster Tully among them now?

Truth be told, Jonothor did not wish for the traitors to be killed, not when it would cost his brother's life as well, but the King had insisted on it. Dragons wield the right of Kings,Aerys had said, and I will not be the first to forgive the transgressions of a disloyal lord.

Forgive me, Symond, he thought. For once he regretted taking the white. But oaths to a king were binding for life. There was little he could do. A servant rushed past, bearing a lantern, but Jonothor's helm obscured the rest. He paid it no mind, and continued on his way.

Would Symond have joined with the traitor Connington, if he had escaped the battle? Probably, Jonothor thought. He himself had once been taken in by the silver-haired prince, until the fool went off gallivanting in Dorne with Lyanna Stark, leaving the Realm to burn. When Rhaegar had returned, Jonothor was in no mood to forgive him. Symond kept his mouth shut when Jonothor asked after his opinion on the matter, and perhaps that was for the best.

It was a shame Symond's son Raymun had joined so readily Jon Connington's band of traitors. Tywin had promised to show Raymun clemency in return for Jonothor's aid against the conspiracy, but there was no guarantee the King would be prepared to honor the bargain, informed of it as he was. For his brother's sake, Jonothor hoped Raymun would see sense and flee, though the King had forbidden him from going to his nephew before the conspirators were caught. Perhaps he could convince Willem to do it for him? Jonothor hesitated at the door to Willem's chambers. It could get Willem killed. He knocked the door. He soon heard Willem coming from the other side, then it opened.

"Ah. Brother," Willem said, standing aside to let him in. Jonothor stepped inside, looking around the room as the door thudded shut behind him. Everything was prim and tidily-kept, as he had been accustomed to expect of his younger brother. He sat in the nearest chair, warm beside the hearth. Willem took the other.

"So what brings you here?" Willem asked. "Did you want mere to exchange words after returning from the war?"

Jonothor sighed. "If only it were so simple. He looked around at the walls, wondering if something was listening. You know of the conspiracy against the King?"

Willem nodded. "Of course. I promised to not raise my sword against them, as long as the King's life is not threatened. I was also told you agreed to the same yourself."

An ember hit Jonothor's foot. "I know." He kicked it back into the flames, thinking back to the fiery display of the noon.

"So Jon already told you about it? He plans to begin tonight."

"He told me all about it. I have a further request of you to make, though."

Willem cocked his head. "And what would that be?"

"Convince our nephew to leave the city. My King refused me permission to do it myself."

Willem scratched his bearded chin. "I will do that then. Soon." He glanced at Jonothor's leg. "You were wounded? I do not recall you shambling around with a limp last time we met."

"Some highborn bastard gored my right leg with a halberd at Pinkmaiden."

Willem smiled wryly. "I do not imagine you felt like forgiving him."

"He did not live long enough to regret it," Jonothor said. "But the healer who failed to give me a proper poultice did."

"You aren't telling me you killed that healer?"

Jonothor shrugged. "Can you imagine me doing such a thing?" Seeing Willem's bewildered face, he shook his head and hastily said, "Of course I did not."

Willem waved him off. "Ease, Jonothor, I was messing with you."

"As was I. Is there anything of interest you want to tell me of?"

"Nothing much. The usual burnings, the news that Storm's End has fallen, that sort of thing. I was wondering what you did after you went off with Prince Rhaegar and Ser Barristan."

"So Robert's brother has finally capitulated? Poor fellow. I do not expect things to go well for him," Jonothor said. "So, where shall I begin? I knew Prince Rhaegar had gone to the Red Mountains... Gerold Hightower told me as much when he left to kidnap Lady Lyanna. When Rhaegar returned many months later, as you know, the war was going poorly. I was tasked with gathering sellswords and freeriders and the like, from the countryside. Devious, the lot of them. There were deserters in their ranks. I am sure of it. It was not easy. Rhaegar told me to return to him at Harrenhal, where he was gathering to the Royal Army what knights and levies had not yet arrived in time for the battle at Stoney Sept. We stayed there a fortnight before we proceeded to march west to the fords at Stone Mill. We were halfway there when Rhaegar got a raven from Lord Lannister promising he would sally from the Golden Tooth with twenty thousand men. As our outriders told us that the rebels were encamped there, Rhaegar decided to steal a march south to Mummer's Ford, to unite with Lord Lannister unmolested. As it turned out, the rebel army was not at Stone Mill not to defend, but to cross, and was marching pell-mell South to intercept us. I had my first taste of battle in years when we skirmished in the woods by the Red Fork." Jonothor pointed at his right cheek. "Got this scar here when a sellsword grew tired of discipline and tried to knife me in my sleep. Almost succeeded..."

He continued. "Anyhow, after a week of incessant skirmishes with the rebels, and a rise in desertions, Rhaegar decided enough was enough, and chose to give battle in the hills overlooking the Red Fork valley. Near Pinkmaiden, to be exact. You know what happened after that."

"I suppose I do," Willem replied. For a while the brothers watched the fire. A log broke in half, sending little embers through the air. Willem looked him in the eye. "Don't you worry for Symond and his other sons?"

Jonothor looked away. "I tried to convince the King not to be rash with Hoster Tully, but you know how he is."

Willem nodded. "Truth be told, I was not surprised at all. Well anyhow, I hope Jon Connington succeeds tonight."

"That is another reason I came to you now," Jonothor said. He leaned forward. "Tell no one of this."

"By the Seven."

"The conspiracy is a sham and a trap. Tywin Lannister tasked me weeks ago with spying on Connington and his band of Rhaegar's loyalists, and reporting back to the King about it. They expect Rhaegar's loyalists to show their hand soon with something like this. And when Connington and his allies do that tonight, they will be caught in the act and the Realm's stability restored in the wake of this second, shorter Rebellion." Willem did not appear fazed in the slightest. Jonothor raised his eyebrows. "Why aren't you surprised?"

"Tygett Lannister told me all about it," Willem said. "Trust me, I will do what I can to keep our nephew out of this."

Jonothor stood up. "Thank you, Willem."

Willem tilted his head, furrowing his brow. "Why leave now?"

"We can talk later, when this business is over. The King will get suspicious if I go missing too long."

"Ah," Willem said. He looked at the sword that hung at his belt. "I will see to my tasks as well, then. When it is all said and done, I should like to hear your story in full." He went to the door, and opened it. Jonothor went through, before he turned around for a moment.

"You will have a chance to hear the full story. I give you my word."