"I swear, Ser Kevan, it wasn't m-"
"Quiet," Kevan commanded and she obeyed, "I ask the questions here, not you." He sat back in his chair. The room was spartan and confining, she was sat on a small wooden chair that dug into her back while Kevan's own was plush and soft. The red brick walls were bare, the light from the bracketed torches shining heat and shadow on the walls. The doors were heavy iron, and she knew the one she had entered by was guarded on the other side, the other likely the same. There was no escape from here except through Ser Kevan's questioning.
"I swear, my lord, I was abed at the time of the murder."
Ser Kevan steepled his fingers. "And how do you know when the murder happened?"
Her voice caught in her throat and she coughed, hoping to cover her momentary silence. "Well it was at night, wasn't it? That's what everyone is saying."
"Everyone?"
"The court, I heard the whispers."
"And you believe them?"
"Should I not? I heard that the septon found his body this morning, it makes sense that it happened last night."
"The septon slept late this morning, he did not enter the sept until past noon, it could have been last night, it could have been this morning. And you are certain that you were abed when it happened?"
"I-I didn't know that, my lord, please. This morning I awoke with the lady Sansa, we broke our fasts together and then we went to the godswood so that she could pray, it was only after that that we heard the rumours." She didn't want to say that they had both slept late as well, that would only raise more suspicion.
"Is that so? We'll see about that, were there other witnesses?"
"I-I think so, my lord, there were other people in the godswood, and the maids who brought us our breakfast can attest to that."
"Did anyone see you, in the godswood?"
"Possibly, my lord, I didn't take note of it."
His eyes narrowed to needles that pierced her soul and it took all she had to hold his gaze.
Finally, he sat back. "Tell me what happened yesterday, your day, from the beginning."
"It's really mine?"
"If you wish it, lady Daenerys."
She ran her fingers along the fabric, it was soft silk, black as obsidian, threaded with fire. "You have already bought me so much, my lord." Lord Rowan smiled at her. "It's no trouble, my lady, besides," he raised his voice a little, "the good people of King's Landing deserve the custom."
"It's our pleasure m'lord," said the tailor, he and his staff beaming at the comment and the prospect of future orders.
"Well, if you're sure you don't mind?"
Lord Rowan waved her objection away. "Think nothing of it, tailor, take her measurements, we'll have another dress of that style."
"Of course, please, stand up here m'lady, this dress requires an extra couple of measurements." She stood back on the stand, she was still shorter than Lord Rowan, and moved as the tailor requested so she got the full measurements, the tailor's tape moving respectfully over her body.
"That will be all," the tailor said, stepping back and bowing his head, while his assistant, who had been scribbling the measurements hurried into the back to pass them on to the seamstresses. "I'll have this ready for you next week, as well as the other two fine gowns. I can adjust the others as well if you wish it?"
"No, they were perfectly comfortable as they were, thank you though."
Lord Rowan's servants carefully packed the clothes into a small chest and loaded them onto a cart outside.
Lord Rowan offered to help her onto her horse, but a commotion from across the street drew her eyes. The High Septon was emerging from a building, followed by a gaggle of fellow septons and the sight of him repulsed the people in the street. She saw a mother cover her child's eyes and turn them both away, many more shook their heads in disgust, while one man, deep in his cups, guffawed at the sight. When Lord Rowan caught sight of it he shook his head in dismay. "Despicable," he muttered.
"Why?" She asked, then saw the scantily clad woman emerge behind the High Septon and his entourage and wave them off. A look at the sign hanging above the door. The Ripe Peach, only one establishment could have a name like that.
Quickly, the holy procession bundled into a waiting carriage and it began trundling down the road, the wheels rattling on the cobbles. This man was supposed to be the font of piety, and yet here he was, the man who had condoned Joffrey's treatment of an innocent girl, who had forced the faithful to keep on the side of a king who had used had turned to a crossbow when his people had begged for food.
"Ungodly bastard!" One man shouted after the wagon to no avail.
"If the gods are good, they'd choose another High Septon," a woman muttered, just on the edge of hearing.
"The lions you mean, the gods've got nothing to do with it," someone replied.
"This one says what they like, they won't replace him," said a third.
"My lady." She shook herself, took Lord Rowan's hand and accepted his help onto her horse. "Back to the keep, now," Lord Rowan said.
"So you did see the High Septon that day?"
She nodded, "yes, first there in the street, then later on in the sept."
"We'll get to that. First, did you see anything unusual?"
"Apart from the High Septon emerging from a brothel?" She bit her lip, fearful that she'd spoken out of turn.
"Yes, was anyone following him, did you hear anything that might give some clue as to who killed him?"
"I- no my lord, he was too far away and the street was busy."
"So you heard nothing?"
"Some mutterings," she said, "the people who saw him weren't impressed."
"So nothing useful," he sighed. "Where was the carriage going?"
"Away from the keep, we went in the other direction, I didn't look after it."
He stared at her, his eyes searching, hunting. "Very well, the sept, what were you doing there?"
"Praying my lord, for the victory of our king and an end to the war."
"Was the High Septon there when you arrived?"
"No, he arrived later, I do not know when, I was lost in my communion with the gods."
Kevan waved the last statement aside. "Other witnesses also say you were there first. They also say that you spoke, what about?"
She prayed for the same thing she prayed for every time she came to the sept in the Red Keep recently. She prayed that the growing ire of the court be directed away from her and Sansa, she prayed that Joffrey was too busy to notice them and that Lord Tywin thought them below her notice. She prayed that everyone the Lannisters hurt got their justice and that the King's regime suffered in its turn. And she prayed that none discovered her hand in the death of Ser Meryn Trant.
Suddenly she noticed the quiet and opened her eyes. She turned, her eyes passing over the other figures of the Seven, past the main altar at the head of the room, past the staircase leading down into the sept's storeroom and over to the door where the High Septon had entered with his people. Through some mercy he had decided to change after his morning excursion into the seedier establishments in King's Landing. He was now dressed in heavy robes of pure white, his crystal crown on his head glinting with reflected light. His belt was studded with emeralds and a heavy gold chain hung around his neck while more gold strangled his fat fingers.
She turned back to the altar as the sycophants swept and snoops swarmed around him. She would finish her prayer and depart, she didn't want to be in this company longer than she had to be.
A shadow fell over her.
She looked around to see the High Septon standing over her. She scrambled to her feet and backed against the altar. "Your excellence," she bowed her head.
"I have not seen you here before, my lady," he replied in a honeyed voice practiced at soothing mobs.
"I come to pray as often as I can," she replied, "but I do not recall being here with you before, so I'm sure you're right."
He nodded,thoughtfully, the people behind him were whispering to themselves. "Do you mind if I join you, I myself have prayers to offer to the Mother." She nodded and stepped aside, but as she made to leave he called out. "One should finish their prayers, lady Targaryen." She froze, turned slowly and knelt back down beside him, trying not to stay too close. "What are you praying for?"
"Mercy, peace, justice."
"Justice, for whom?" He was looking at her, she felt it.
"For all, your excellence."
"Even for traitors?"
What should she say here? "I believe justice should be served to the traitors, yes."
"Very good," he leant in close, his breath smelling of roses. "But it is truly the Father you should be praying to for justice."
A way out. "Then I shall go to him at once."
But he didn't let her out that easily. "Who taught you about our faith, I understand you were a kingdom away for much of your life?"
Realising there was no quick way out, she replied. "It was my brother, your excellence, what little I know of the faith, I know from him."
"It seems a life on the run has left you lacking in your knowledge."
"Well you have increased that knowledge today, I thank you, your excellence."
"It is my duty, as the chosen of the gods, to pass their wisdom on to all."
"Everyone? I saw your carriage in the streets today, were you administering to the smallfolk of King's Landing?"
He looked down at her sharply. "Indeed I was," he replied, raising his nose, his lips twitching. "They need such help, so simple minded they are, it is my pleasure and duty to bring them into the light of the gods with my presence alone."
"Your presence?" She asked.
"Oh yes, you see, as High Septon, my presence is a step to enlightenment. A prayer before me or at my side is far more likely to be heard by the gods."
He spread his hands wide. "It is my duty to pass that on to everyone." I'm sure that's what you were doing in a whorehouse with all of your friends.
Seeking to confirm her suspicions directly. "I'm sure your time enlightening the lowborn was a joy for you?"
His smile twitched higher and the High Septon turned to her lowering his hands and gently adjusting his robes. "Oh yes, I seldom find as my joy as when I enlighten the lowborn."
Gods this man is scum. She thought back to the people in the city, on what they had said and how right they were. How obvious would he be? "Your excellence. There is still much I need to know about the Faith, perchance, you could be the one to teach me." She subtly pulled her dress down a little further, lowered her head and fluttered her eyelids at him.
He stared and his breath hitched. "Yes, yes it would be my pleasure, my lady."
"Perhaps it would be best to do so alone," she whispered, kneeling beside him again so that no one could possibly hear them. "Tonight, I would be without distractions, I find that is the best way to learn."
"Yes… tonight, I have other business in the Keep, but I could return here at sundown."
Dany smiled on the inside. Oh no, this was not what she wanted, she would leave him waiting even more, let his balls go without release. "Your excellence, people can still be here at that time. Perhaps later, at midnight, then we can be sure of being without interuption."
"Yes," he breathed, his chest rising and falling rapidly as his eyeballs roved over her as though he couldn't control them. "Yes, I shall see you here at that time."
She nodded. "Very well, your excellence. I shall wait outside, after you have entered, I shall knock and you can teach me."
"It is agreed."
"I shall see you then, your excellence." She bowed to him and left the sept, smiling at the thought of leaving the High Septon alone and frustrated in the dark.
"So you just prayed together?"
"Not entirely, my lord," she replied. "I am limitted in my instruction in the faith, so he agreed to give me a lesson. We agreed to meet just before sundown so that he might instruct me a little."
"An odd time to meet."
"He said that he was busy, my lord, and that was the only time he would have any time today."
"Did you discuss anything else?"
"No, my lord. I swear it."
Kevan nodded, slowly. "You agreed to meet him at sundown, what did you do in the intervening time?"
"Why do you want to go and see that man?"
"I don't," Dany assured Sansa, flashing her a smile. "The man has proved himself a lecher, all he wants is me, alone in an empty room, where he can no doubt bring me closer to the gods, the one under his robes in particular."
"So why are you going?"
She leant in conspiratorially. "I'm not, I'm going to leave him there to stew in his own perversion until he realises that I am not coming, probably several hours later, and has to find his own way home, unsatisfied, with the gods bearing witness to his shame."
Sansa gasped. "Your filthy," she whispered through her fingers.
Dany laughed, patting Sansa's shoulder. "It's the least that man deserves, after this morning."
"What happened this morning?"
Dany told Sansa of the High Septon emerging from the brothel with all his friends after bringing them the grace of the gods.
"What filth," Sansa said when she'd finished, almost spitting in disgust. "This is the same man who put the crown on Joffrey's head. Who gave him all his power. Who stood by and watched as my father was killed in his Sept." Sansa's face darkened as it was wont to do whenever she had a chance to dwell on the hurts of her past and Dany hugged her. "It's okay, just think, he'll be humiliated tonight."
"It's not humiliation if no one is there to see them," Sansa pointed out. "Besides, what humiliation is that next to… this," her handless arm tensed on Dany's back. "What that man has done, what he has supported and endorsed, he doesn't deserve humiliation, he deserves so much more. They all do.
"Ungodly bastard!"
"If the gods are good, they'd choose another High Septon."
"The lions you mean, the gods've got nothing to do with it."
"This one says what they like, they won't replace him."
But I can.
As it approached sundown, she told Sansa not to wait up for her, she'd be back when she could. She asked where Dany was going, and Dany told her she needed to walk, to clear her head before sleeping and a stroll would help her. As Sansa was still getting used to her missing limb, she helped her pull on her nightclothes and tucked her in to bed. She gave her a quick hug and then turned to the door. There were two guards there as always. "Please, I wish to pray once more tonight, might I have an escort to the sept."
"Don't you know the way?" one of the guards replied, irritably.
"I do," she said, "but please, ever since Ser Meryn's death. I am scared to walk there alone."
The guards looked at each other. "You want to go?" The other asked.
"Better than standing 'round here all night, come on then." She set off after the guard and he led her through the darkening corridors. The torchlighters were going along the corridors, ever since the murder lights had been commanded to be kept on every major corridor. The flickering flames shot light at them, the shadows dancing opposite them. She walked into the light, the guardsman's armour glinting red and red and red. They made it to the sept and Daenerys stopped. "The High Septon told me he would await me outside."
"The High Septon?" The guard was alarmed.
"Yes, he has said he will be instructing me in the faith, but he said to wait outside and he would come just before sundown."
The guard clearly wanted to ask more questions, but said nothing, as he had been ordered by Cersei. Guarding Sansa and Dany's door and escorting them was an easy job, he probably didn't want to lose it by getting too close to them. If the Queen thought she had any relationship with the guards, he would be replaced.
They waited. And waited.
"You said he was coming at sundown," the guard said, looking down the corridor towards a window. The glass was darkening, the shadows gathering, night was falling.
"That's what he said," she replied, worrying her bottom lip. "Maybe he's been delayed?"
"Maybe he's inside," the guard replied irritably, marching over and opening the door before Dany could say anything. But there was only darkness inside, no candlelight. Thank the gods, they hadn't brought him early. She couldn't bare having to pray with that man. "Not here, and it doesn't look like he's coming either."
"You're right," Dany said, bowing her head and sighing. "We should go back."
"Yes, we should, come one." The guard led her away. "At least I got to walk."
"And so I went to bed."
"You're certain the High Septon wasn't there?"
"The guard didn't see him, and he told me to wait outside."
"And yet his body was found there the next morning, how do you explain that?"
"He… must have come after we left." She sat back. "If I'd stayed, maybe he wouldn't have died."
"Maybe, or maybe we'd know who the killer is," Kevan sat back. "Who was the guard who took you to the sept?"
"I… couldn't say, my lord, we don't know the names of the servants or guards we are assigned."
Kevan nodded. "As it must be, by order of the Queen." He rubbed his beard, scratching in irritation. "That's all, for now."
"For now?"
Kevan waved her away. "Yes, for now, if I have any more questions I'll drag you back here in a heartbeat."
Dany got to her feet and bowed. "Of course, my lord, if I can answer any more of your questions, I will."
She turned and left the bare room, hurrying away from the brother of Lord Tywin, back to the safety of her chambers.
The door to their chambers closed and Dany leant against it with a sigh of relief. She glanced over at the bed, and saw Sansa lying there, beneath the cupboard, a candle flickering on the bedside, red wax gathering in the holder beneath it, drip, drip, drip. She slipped over to Sansa to make sure she was asleep. She looked comforted, at peace, her breathing came easily. Dany looked over to the other side of the bed, so comfortable and inviting. Sansa shuffled, the stump of her hand poking up from under the covers, the skin twisted over the severed end.
She made her way over to the chest that contained her new clothes, carefully she searched through if for what she was looking for, a set of soft clothes, dark grey and black woven together, snug and loose, with long sleeves. She also pulled on some black silk gloves and soft leather shoes. The seams of all the items of clothing were woven with red, a tribute to her house, an explanation that Lord Rowan would understand. She pulled up the hood of the cloak, tucking her hair into the robes to hide it, taking a sewing needle, she slid it into her sleeve. She took out a spare candle for her lamp and lit it on the dying flame of Sansa's candle. She then made her way over to the floor where the trap door was. When Sansa had been gone with the Tyrells, she had moved the rug so that only the corner of it covered the trap door. As she climbed down the cold iron rungs, lamp held in one hand, she let the door close above her. Poking her sewing needle through the small gap around the entrance, she used the thin piece of metal to pull the rug back over the door fully, just in case, and continued her descent. Her knife waited for her at the bottom, the eyes of the dragon crossguard gleaming in anticipation.
She made her way down the corridors like a cat, her memories flooding back to her from her nightly excursions, smears of blood and ink on the walls reminding her when necessary. Straight on at the first junction, left at the second and then the second right step over the discarded wooden pole, down the spiral and along the long corridor. She paused at every intersection, closing the door to her lamp and listening intently. She hadn't seen anyone yet, but sometimes she felt like she heard things. Nothing. She sped onwards, she couldn't have much time left, but at least she knew where she had to go. At the end of the long corridor the path split into three, she took the left hand fork went two thirds of the way along and then slipped up the small gap that was always a tight squeeze. She had to poke her head up first to make sure the way was clear, then she removed her cloak and stuffed it up ahead of her before squeezing the rest of her body through. She quickly put the cloak back on, tucking her hair away, and took the left path. Somewhere along… here! She slipped down the small gap in the wall and turned right at the other side. Eventually she made it to where she wanted to be, she ran her fingers along the smooth stone until she found the indentation she was looking for, she pulled and the stone pulled aside, rising to her thighs. When it was open, she slipped through and waited, her heart pounding her breath baited. She was ducked behind some barrels that stored the sept's wine, as she knew she would be. No sound. Nothing.
She emerged from behind the barrels, leaving her lamp behind her and slipped up the stairs leading to the main sept. She paused at the door, listening. Nothing. She tried the handle, it turned.
She stepped out into the sept of darkness. The statues loomed above them, tall and ominous, their faces obscured. But from the candles lit around the altars she could see the lamp of the Crone, the sword of the Warrior and the hammer of the smith, she saw the scales of the Father, the flowers of the Maiden and the staff of the Mother. She would wait where no one lit candles, where no one asked for salvation or prayer, where she would do the work of the gods. She knelt behind the statue of the Stranger and waited. Had she come too late? No, he would be here, a young, innocent, beautiful woman was waiting for him to hear his every word, he would come.
She waited in the shadows, the candles shimmering a circle of light into the middle of the sept.
The door opened and sure enough, the High Septon came through. She couldn't be sure at first, but soon the white of his robes was clear. He looked around furtively, hands wringing themselves in excitement, his fat tongue wetted his pale lips. She waited, watched as he knelt before the Father and muttered a quick prayer. Then he returned to the middle of the circle and watched expectantly.
She stood and approached as a wraith, making no noise or giving no indication until she was right behind him. This was her last chance, humiliation, or worse. He adjusted the front of his robes again.
"You've been a very bad septon, haven't you?"
With a startled cry he spun around as fast as his considerable weight would carry him. She lunged forward, seizing the front of his robes. He opened his mouth, to cry or to plead, it didn't matter, she plunged her dagger into his fat through and whatever last words he hoped to say were drowned in blood. She pulled the dagger back and a welter of sanguine gore sprayed down him, staining his white robes red. She stepped back and watched as the High Septon who had supported the cruelties that the Lannisters had inflicted on Sansa died. He died in red, red on the white robes, red on the white skin, red on the red cobbles. Red and red, all that shined through the red was the gold and the emerald green. With a final choking gasp, he collapsed to the ground, dying at last in a pool of red redress for all his sins. She knelt beside him, reaching down to close the staring white eyes. Blood from her glove left a trail along his right cheek. She looked down at it, paused, then drew another line down his left eyelid and cheek, now a matching streak cut down both sides of his face.
The sept hadn't been cleared, and so the court was using one of the septs not in the outer parts of the Red Keep. It was far less impressive than the one in the main holdfast, small stone busts of each of the gods rather than full statues. It was nearly empty when she arrived, everyone out discussing the latest gossip of another murder, or hiding themselves away, who knew. Daenerys took a candle and placed it on the empty altar before the Stranger.
"I will bring you more," she promised the faceless bust, reaching out and touching the stone affectionately. "I will bring you many, many more."
