It is evening time in King's Landing. Honest, hardworking, upstanding citizens retreat to their homes to catch some rest for tomorrow, leaving the streets in the hands of the city's less honorable denizens who seek profit, pleasure or both.
In the Red Keep, a similar pattern was being observed. Servants prepared the lords and ladies of the castle for a good night's sleep before they themselves went to bed. The only ones who could be found stalking the castle at night were spiders, guards and the occasional rat searching for leftovers.
"Miss Breyna", I call to my servant. "I know I'm now a big prince, but… Can you read me a bed time story", I speak in a drowsy voice.
She smiles and turns to me: "Of course, my big prince, what story would you like?"
"One with lions", I confess to not knowing many children's stories from Westeros.
"Alright, young prince, I might remember one such story", she proceeds to my bed, my cats following her before jumping on the bed, while Breyna sits down at my bedside.
"There once was a Lion King that ruled the vast forests of Westeros…", I notice that she has no book, but is instead making up a story of her own. How droll. This prince demands only reviewed stories from the most esteemed publishers in Westeros or the Free Cities! I shall make an exception this time, however...
I listen intently to the story. My eyes closing by themselves as I relax into my bed while petting the cat that lay on my sheets.
"...and they lived happily ever after. The end.", she caresses me before leaving my chambers to let me sleep in peace. "Good night, my prince."
Thank god the story was a short one, or else I'd have actually fallen asleep.
The guards were doing patrols tonight, so I needed to be precise. The grand maester has business outside of the castle. It wasn't easy to pay a whore for him, when I needed to make the payment untraceable. How I miss the deep web... Since we can't have a little prince go to a whorehouse when he hasn't even entered puberty, I took advantage of some guards that Myrcella told me about. She said that they love to patrol the city and they always came back happy after they've successfully "stopped crime". Yeah, right. This isn't just whores we're talking about. There's also the equivalent of a drug underworld in King's Landing as well! Maybe I could be the medieval Godfather, then? Tommen the Thiefmaster. That would be funny.
I just hope Varys isn't on to me as I set my plan into motion. I seem to be beneath his notice. I seem to be beneath everyone's notice, really, except my family and the few servants delegated to me. This is a fact that I take advantage of. I wrote an anonymous letter giving instructions to the guards I know were up to something shady, promise their secrets are safe if they do what they've been told, and it worked like a charm.
As a result of my postal services, the grand maester has left his lab unattended, and the guards have an armory that is unguarded. Alright, time to act.
Navigating my way through the rosy halls of the Red Keep, I set out to find the armory first. The grand maester isn't returning to the Keep until tomorrow, but the guards have to be back at their posts at some point tonight. The armory has an abundance of weaponry that I'd like to have, but I'd rather keep my contraband a secret, so no asking mommy nicely for this. I evade a patrol of guards by hiding in a branching hallway. I keep an eye out for a possible patrol from it, as well. The good thing is that I don't need to focus too hard to spot them. They try to be silent, but it doesn't work that well. Heavy armor and gossiping is very easy to hear. How did they not wake me up before, I don't know. Arriving at the armory, I grab a shortsword. Targaryen in design, and it's age is evident. It's not mint condition but it isn't rusted either. It will serve my purpose.
As I'm about to exit, I notice a dagger sticking out among the rest. Approaching it, I notice a brilliant Damascus ripple pattern on the blade as I remove it's sheathe. It's a Valyrian steel dagger. The one used in the assassination attempt on Bran!
"Guess it's my lucky day", I mutter, securing an important plot device and a high quality weapon wrapped in one sharp package. Tyrion owes me for this one.
Finding the grandmaester's lab was more difficult, since I ran on guesswork, but I am pretty sure I was on the right path. A few staircases down, a right turn at the cracked T junction, pass the defaced dragon door and… There it is, around the corner! Unfortunately, a guard is posted there as well. It seems that Pycelle is not stupid. He doesn't want to leave a room full of toxins unattended. The FDA would be proud. My current equipment made it hard to sneak around, so no way am I going to roleplay as a subtlety rogue in this situation. Combat rogue, maybe, considering the sword I have, but I'd probably get eviscerated by ser Whozit of Whocares.
I'm running out of time. I need to figure out how to get him somewhere else, or all my planning tonight will be fruitless.
"Oi, you!", my blood froze at the sound. An unknown voice called. "Yeah, you!", it called again and is followed up by the sound of steel boots marching on stone. I'm too afraid to turn around and face my judgement. Goodbye, Westeros, it's been fun beating up your Crown Prince! After mustering the courage to turn around, I come face to face with the… Nothing?
My gaze quickly darts back to the first guard and I see him facing something to his side with a smile.
"You ready to buy me that ale, Forley?" the voice asks, and the guard laughs. "I'd buy you Dornish if ya fuckers came earlier. Been standin' around here for ages!" the guard responds, sounding like an Australian. "Come, let's go get a drink or two.", the guard ushers in the voice and I hide to the best of my ability until they pass. Smart enough to leave a guard, not smart enough to leave a good guard. Moving on...
I enter the lab and realize that I'm not that smart enough either. Pycelle knows his vials inside and out, and sees no reason to label them. I, on the other hand, have no idea what the Tears of Lys are supposed to look like. Transparent small vial, probably, but that narrows it down to 15 of them.
There is no time to go through all of the shelves, so I browse through his notes, hoping to find a hint:
"Supplies due on the 20th", one note reads. This was a few days ago.
"3 vials of dreamwine. 2 flasks of milk of the poppy… List of ingredients: 3lb of black willow bark,…" I stop reading there, since I'm no alchemist. I identify them both, but medieval xanax and morphine are not what I came here for. Another note lists ingredients for moon tea, as well as the amount that arrived for each one of them, but I don't need Plan B just yet. That being said, who will I be marrying? Margaery again? Arya? Maybe snatch Sansa somehow...
I shake my head, putting off my love life issues for another time, and look for something useful while I can. I nearly gave up when I found a book, listing inventory changes. This one was bound in black, giving it an ominous look, and it's contents looked promising. After skimming through the recent updates. I find out that there are 5 vials of the tears of Lys, 2 flasks of manticore venom and a single flask of the shade of the evening somewhere in this room.
The tears are currently being employed to keep Jon's mouth shut about my parentage permanently. I decide against stealing them, because keeping Jon alive would only complicate my life and alter this world too much for me to handle.
The manticore venom, famously used by Oberyn to kill the Mountain, would come in handy if I had to defend myself. The dagger I snatched, when coated in venom, would spell certain doom to any would-be attacker. I have no idea what it looks like though.
The shade of the evening is magic LSD used by warlocks and a certain controversial sailor. Daenerys gets roofied by it during her night out in Qarth. Maybe if I time it right, the substance would let us speak to each other? The coloring should make it easy to find, but I see no indigo fluids anywhere on these shelves. They all must be hidden somewhere.
I look around, hoping that they might be here, searching beneath tables, at the far ends of shelves, inside the small boxes littering the quaint little room, before I set my sights on a large, alphabetically sorted bookcase on the wall across the medicine supply shelf.
"He cannot be that cliché", I think to myself, before prying open the books on the shelf under 'P'
I see a couple of strange, colourful vials, including an indigo one, and a few yellow-green ones.
"P for poison, huh, Pycelle?", I chuckle as I remember that I'm living in a TV series. These things shouldn't surprise me.
Before leaving, I need to forge the documents and add two more entries.
"1 shade of the evening removed", I write in my best Pycelle handwriting. The grand maester also keeps track of who he gives his supplies to. I decide to make that part interesting, since I already have someone in mind:
"Taken by Pyat Pree of the House of the Undying", I jot down with a smile and return the book. It's funny because a couple of teleporting junkie walocks would definitely do something like this. I just hope they aren't watching and preparing to hex me for slandering their secret club. Sorry, guys! Someone has to take one for team trans-dimensional, alright?
The patrols are slowly settling back to their posts as I make my way out of the lab and back to my chambers. I hide my loot in various cool, dry places around my room and cuddle Ser Pounce to sleep, letting the euphoria of a job well done sail me to the sandman's shores.