Celaena I

Celaena kept her walk measured and calm, not letting her excitement show in her gait. That was the way Kaeron had instructed her to walk, the way servants walked. Even once she'd walked out of the relatively small door that the errand boys often used, she did not hurry to the Fishmonger's Square. It was the only way she could escape out of the Red Keep without being caught, with her siblings distracting Lady Shara. She took a longer way to the docks to distract her from the pinpricks of guilt she felt at that. Aenyra was always hoping to please and despite her disapproval for Celaena's 'antics', had talked to Boremund while the other girl stole the papers detailing the patrolling movements of the royal fleet from his room.

As the Hook broadened out to the Muddy Way—called the Blackwater Way only by the stuffiest of the high lords—she slipped easily into the common crowds in a way neither of her siblings would be able to. Aenyra was too beautiful and Kaeron was….well, Kaeron. As she opened the door and walked into the Swimming Siren, something from the roof fell off beside her and she prayed it was a just a piece of wood. The ever-present smell sought to overpower any newcomer to the inn but in her eagerness, it greeted Celaena like an old friend. This is what my favourite place smells like, she thought. No wonder Kaeron always declined my invitations to accompany me. Still, she relished the feeling of victory on her tongue far longer that was proper.

The inn was filled only by a few men sitting in lone groups and shadows in the corners. One of the few tables that had enough light to see seated the man she'd come here to meet. Anant greeted her with an amiable smile and ordered a jug of ale for himself.

"No jug of ale for me? I might get mad and refuse the deal," Celaena said, sitting down on one of the cleaner chairs.

Her companion snorted as he took a sip of his drink. "Like you'd give up on this. You're as excited as I was when I was first called to battle."

Celaena tried to keep the curiosity off her face, but she could never succeed at that. "Which battle? I didn't know you caught fight with…..you know," she trailed off, gesturing at his mangled leg.

"It was the Trident. I lost my foot fighting there for the king—"

"Which king? The dragon or the stag?" She'd learnt early that most of the smallfolk only remembered the great lords by the sigils on their banners, not their names.

"The dragon," he told her, taking another swig from his jug. "Hardly mattered though. I did it to make some money to marry Marina. You know what happened with her." She did know. How a fisherman's son had fallen in love with a merchant's daughter who held herself like a daughter of kings and fought in a war to make enough money to marry her and start a family. That boy had injured his foot there and his sweetheart had broken off their engagement, saying that she could not marry a man that could not provide for her. Still, Celaena had never heard Anant utter a single word against the girl he had once loved. She did not know if she could've had the strength to do so in his stead. Not knowing what else to say, she took a page from Aenyra's book and changed the subject.

"So come on, I've been waiting months for your man's little trip to be over. Where's my bloody book?"

"Got bad news on that front, I'm 'fraid. The man could only save a few pages of the copy, lost the rest in a pirate attack," he told her, tone mournful. She turned her head away as a weight came crushing down on her chest. For someone who had been dancing with disappointment her entire life, you'd think she'd know how to deal with it by now or better yet, know to end it by now.

"These are the papers he managed to get," the smuggler continued. "Don't know why you're so curious about the east but I was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. I'm sorry I couldn't get more," he added sincerely. He offered her the papers he had gotten for her, stories and the culture of the Naathi and the Summer Islanders.

"These are as useless as tits on a boar," she cursed. "I could get these easily enough myself." If Pycelle doesn't interrogate me for why I need it after having read it thrice already.

Anant simply shrugged and the look on his face reflected the disappointment on hers. "Here, these are the fleet movements. Steer clear of the ships and you won't lose any fingers for your choice of work."

The man's face lightened and he gave her a nice smile. "What choice of work? I'm a simple fisherman, the fish I catch are simply different."

The bells started ringing just as she left the inn. Maegor's cunt; as if this day wasn't bad enough already. The time it took her to reach the Keep could've been hours or seconds and she wouldn't have noticed. What if it's Kae or 'Nyra? She could not help but question. No, they wouldn't ring the bells if anything happened to us, the words rang in her mind in the calm tone of her brother. What if it's Edwin or Uncle Robert? Or Elyana….

The thought had barely entered her mind before she reached the Keep and slipped back in, forgotten in the bustle of servants rushing to places more urgently than they had been when she had left. Reaching the godswood from the Kitchen Keep was easy and it was easier still to get in the Tower of the Hand from there. Just as she turned the corner, she saw a group of knights and a few courtiers around Lady Shara, her pointed face twisted in annoyance and a look in her eyes that made Celaena glad she was not within striking distance from her. The woman in-charge of their upbringing had lost her husband when he ran away to Essos during the Rebellion two decades ago and had not forgiven the world for the injustice committed against her. If this is what she was like when she was married, I would run have ran away to Essos too. Fortunately, the Lady was as good at distracting others as Aenyra, though unintentionally, and she was quickly able to step back and go in the opposite direction, followed by her caretaker's slower footsteps. She could not run in the hallways and risk being discovered; her disguise depended on her seeming an unremarkable servant. Her panicked footsteps saw her almost trip twice before she reached the end of the corridor. The Lady's footsteps were coming closer. And if I get caught…She knew Uncle Robert wouldn't execute her but he would certainly bar her from going out ever again. They'll keep me imprisoned till they can ship me off to join the Silent Sisters when I reach my majority in two years…Celaena's heart thumped as she contemplated hanging down from the nearby balcony. There is no place to hang onto and the guard patrolling will be able to clearly see it.

She had just decided that jumping from the window would only leave her with a few injuries when a set of arms grabbed her from behind and hauled her backwards. The first thing she tried to do was bite her attacker's hand before Kaeron's measured voice sounded in her ears. "Quiet. We don't want to frighten the mice, do we?"

Her brother freed her from his grip before she could do it and brought the lone candle he had closer, motioning her to be silent. It took a while before Lady Shara's heavy footsteps receded. Celaena and her siblings had learned to anticipate the Lady's mood from her footsteps and the ones that sounded right then made her pity the men she would torture with her bitter words. As she turned to look closer at the place they were in, she noticed the cobwebs stretched in the corners and the door on the southern wall. "What is this place?"

"A storage cabinet the maids rarely use. Rather, one they do use, but only with handsome grooms and stable boys," Kaeron explained, for once forthcoming in his answers.

Her lips quired into a smirk. "Seen anything good in here? You now, I'm the sister that would want to know—"

The silver-haired boy uncharacteristically interrupted her, "You can keep those talks to the seedy taverns you visit. Here, I brought your clothes."

Celaena had barely started to change when Kaeron sharply told her to use the other room.

"Sometimes I worry about the kind of man you'll become. Getting scared of your own sister…."

"You won't have to worry much longer. In two years, you'll be off to the Silent Sisters and I'll go North to defend the realm from grumpkins and snarks." The dissatisfied words were said in the purposefully neutral tone Kaeron always spoke in, but even the fact that he trusted her enough to say it was slightly surprising to the king's ward.

"I didn't get the book. Anant said the ship was attacked by pirates." She could not keep the disappointment from her tone, though she did not try very hard to.

"Oh?" Kaeron kept his voice emotionless but she knew he had been looking forward to reading it almost as much as she had. Her brother loved few things as much as he did books. "Did he just say so or is it true?"

"You don't trust Anant."

"He seems to be a good man. That makes me very suspicious," her brother replied.

"To most people, those statements would be contradictory," she said.

"To most people, getting a Targaryen out of Robert Baratheon's castle would be impossible."

When she emerged from the smaller pantry, his face bore no signs of the disappointment she felt. Do you even feel anything at all? Or is your heart as much of stone as your face?

"Especially with how you planned the escape for so long. Thanks for saving me, by the way," she told him as they walked out of the cabinet and toward the Tower of the Hand.

"I would've abandoned you to Robert's wrath if I could emerge unscathed." Celaena knew her brother was joking. Or at least she hoped he was, one could never tell with Kaeron.

"Regrettably," he continued, "I cannot. So I will have to be your knight in shining armour"

"Who needs a knight in shining armour?" The Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms had sneaked up to them with the warrior's grace he had inherited from his father. Edwin gave them both a friendly smile, though only one was reciprocated. Celaena was not as good at understanding people as her sister was but even she could note that the two boys eyed each other for a moment too long to be comfortable. Strong from years of training in the yards, with the blue eyes and black hair of his father, Edwin cut a handsome figure, or so she'd heard from other girls, but Kaeron's superior height made them equals. Edwin was older than them by a few months—she wasn't certain, for the only man who had seen them be born lived on a dreary island in the north—yet the sharp, harsh lines of Kaeron's face would make one think otherwise.

The silence had turned from awkward to lethal and Celaena quickly spoke up before either of them could. "I was talking to Kaeron about—"

Kaeron smoothly interjected in between for which she shot a glare at him, "She was asking about the bells ringing in the city earlier and asked who was in need of a knight. I admit I do not know the answer either," he grudgingly admitted. Bollocks, that's what I was forgetting! Elyana and Uncle Robert must be alright since Edwin seems unworried. Surely they would've told him if something happened to his family…

"You don't know something? A strange day indeed. I was just going to the Throne Room to hear the announcement. Come with me," he offered. And they did, Edwin and Celaena leading the way and Kaeron following behind.

Uncle Robert was sitting on the Iron Throne, his face grief-stricken. It made both Edwin and her hesitate for a minute though her brother silently took his customary place for court. As she walked closer, she could see that he had cut himself on the throne her ancestors had built. She'd read of tales of Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya building it for their line to sit on after them, but to her, the throne had only ever housed her uncle. It would be wrong to see someone else sitting there, even Kaeron. Her eyes kept searching the vast chamber for another Baratheon, and found her almost immediately. Princess Elyana was dressed in a beautiful blue dress that brought out her deep blue eyes she could drown in. The gold and black designs swirling and competing for dominance on it only brought out her ebony black hair even more. Her pale, unblemished skin only steadied the brown-haired girl's belief that the princess had been blessed by the Maiden. She was surrounded by her handmaidens but even if she were not, Celaena would not have had the courage to approach her. Twisting and twirling her hair in her finger, she was talking to Talla Tarly. Celaena wondered what it would be like to run her hands through that hair before a gentle shove made her focus on the court proceedings again.

"You can stare at your beloved Princess some other day, Celaena." Her sister looked immaculate as ever, her golden hair in a complex hairstyle that she could never be able to do. The rest of her long hair flowed freely down her back, and her face was a mask of worry.

"I wasn't—ummm, that is—she's not…" Celaena could feel herself going as red as the Keep though Uncle Robert thankfully took that moment to speak out, his booming voice stopping all other conversations.

Lord Jon Arryn had died that morning.

When she turned, Kaeron had already vanished and Edwin was making his way to his father, beset by courtiers offering their condolences. Celaena made to do so as well before her sister grabbed her arm, stopping her.

"I should go and offer my condolences to Uncle Robert, Nyra—" She was interrupted again and Celaena was starting to hate that.

"His Grace does not need to see a Targaryen while he is mourning his foster father, Celaena. Leave him to his grief," she advised, her face showing no hints of their disagreement to anyone observing them.

"I am more than just a Targaryen," she snarled. "I am like his—"

"His daughter?" Aenyra challenged her. "That's Elyana and Myrcella. We're his hostages and him taking you to hunts does not change that."

Her face softened when Celaena didn't respond and she continued, "Go, offer your condolences. But do not forget who you are to this world, because others haven't. Not a Baratheon, but the king's ward who will go to the Silent Sisters soon." Celaena did go, but she did not accept the rest of her sister's words. I will never be locked away in a sept, dear sister. I refuse to be a flower, trampled on and forgotten, reduced to dust and bones with time. I will burn down the entire Sept of Baelor and the Starry one too if that's what it takes to be free.