Thanks to everyone for sticking up with me! We've almost made it to the end, I promise.

A Snake in the Mists

An Appeal

They rode in darkness, for even a single torch could give them away and the stars were hidden behind heavy clouds. It was the night of the dark moon – a time of dark designs, a time of ill intentions and black enchantments. It had been a night like this, when, three moons ago, Alynna had learned of Rhaegar's flight and gone wild with rage. Her screams had woken the entire castle up, might have even reached the volcano that had once nurtured the dragons to its bosom.

No one talked and Alynna was pleased that it was so. Her mind's eye was turned inwardly, to someone dear to her heart, someone who was no longer there. Arianne Martell, Princess of Dorne, small in stature and tall in resolve. Not a warrior by any means, for she could only throw her dagger. Her consort had fought her battles for her. But Alynna's husband was not even willing to lead his own battles, let alone theirs, hers. And yet, even with Alric Gargalen's skills at arms and undisputable talents in military strategies, even with his powerful charm, there had been times when only Arianne had been able to do what needed to be done with their men-at-arms. Do not seek explanations, for you won't find them, Alynna thought she heard her aunt say. Just accept that it is so. That's the way of the world.

Stay with me, Alynna pleaded and Arianne smiled, staying at her niece's shoulder as Alynna rummaged through her memories of Sunspear and the Water Gardens, and Salt Shore and tried to bring herself to believe that she was doing the right thing the right way.

Aegon was sleeping soundly, lulled by the gallop and not at all disturbed by the thunder of hooves. Alynna tried to feel the warmth of him but of course, she couldn't, not through the thick cloaks they were both wrapped snuggly in.

This late, past midnight, brigands and thieves were almost the only ones roaming the streets of the great city and even they had the common sense to draw back from the way of the mounted group, the dark obscure silhouettes that, to some of them, looked like something the Stranger had sent their way to lead them to their just punishment beyond the grave.

Finally, the Dragon Gate appeared in view, high above their heads. Alynna had been here before and felt some foolish, despicable relief that darkness hid the open mouth of the huge statue from her view. She was already feeling as if she was walking straight into the dragon's mouth.

Here and there in the barracks, a random light flickered.

"I see them," Gunthor Hightower said and was about to take Alynna's sand steed but reconsidered and only pointed to where a group of men was waiting.

Alynna stopped in front of them and her heart made a leap at the sight of a face, fair and familiar, in the dark. Arthur! She told herself that it was a good sign.

Her heart in her throat, she raised the bundle in her arms high. He had just awoken.

Ser Jarmen Buckwell, the commander of the City Watch, bowed as low as his armour would let him. "Your Grace," he said. "Thank you for bringing the King to us."

Through the pounding of her chest, Alynna smiled. "It was only right to present my son to you as I did my daughter."

How Rhaegar had disapproved! A babe had no business in military quarters, he had insisted. It was not good for her health. The men would only scare her. But Alynna had won this argument. At the time, she had been concerned about Rhaegar's ability to win loyalty and keep it. Being cheered for by the crowd was one thing but as nice as it was, it would do nothing for his cause. He had played the game of thrones with the lords of the realm and Alynna had done her best to reach for the rank and file of the men-at-arms in his father's seat of power on his behalf.

Not anymore.

"Is it over?" Ser Jarmen asked and looked behind her, probably trying to see Prince Lewyn among her companions – Lewyn who had been one of the contacts between her and the gold cloaks.

"Ser Lewyn remained in the Red Keep to see to our cause there," Alynna said and saw how he seemed to relax a little, although she couldn't be sure. "And yes, it's over."

He swept another bow. "Then come, my lady. Let's rouse the men from their sleep."

It took some time to get the men in the barracks woken, alert, and ready. Alynna and her party spent it in Ser Jarmen's own apartment – three chambers furnished comfortably but by no means lavishly. Alynna didn't reject the cup of tea she was offered and forced Rhaenys to drink some as well. Then, she poured herself another cup, not to drink it but try and get some warmth for her frozen fingers wrapped around it.

Ser Gunthor stood near the wall, his eyes fixed on the door and his sword drawn.

Gradually, a great noise arose – dragging feet, clamouring weapons, ringing voices. Alynna released the cup but didn't rise.

Ser Jarmen entered the chamber and bowed his head. "Everything is ready, Your Grace," he said.

Alynna rose and took Aegon. Melina followed with Rhaenys.

"Good luck," Ranna said and smiled.

At the door, fifteen Dornishmen formed a semi-circle around them. Ser Gunthor walked before her, his eyes running in all directions.

Just a staircase and a hall, and then a door was opened and she stepped out on the balcony where the Commander of the City Watch addressed his men from.

A sea, a sea of faces that seemed unattached to any bodies in the darkness. Alynna was actually surprised that it was still dark. Had so little time passed? Dirks and spears glittered through and here and there. For some reason, the iron of the cudgels caught the faint flickering of the stars much better.

Alynna drew a deep breath. "Men of the City Watch!" she cried out, forcing the words through her tight throat. She now had to sound passionate, yet without womanly hysterics. Determined but in need of protection as well. And by the Seven, she should not forget whom she was addressing. It was not the Small Council here, or Princess Arianne's sessions with her lords and ladies at which the truly important part should be dug out beneath layers of empty words. "Men of the City Watch!" she repeated. "It is with a heavy heart that I must address you. For many a year, King Aerys has been a good and just ruler. A true protector of the realm. He gave us peace and prosperity. Safe roads. The chance to watch our children grow. But alas, he is no longer of hale mind. He has turned into a grave danger to justice and faith in the Seven Kingdom – indeed, to people's very lives! When a great lord's son demanded justice for the grave offense the King's son committed against his House, the King answered with taking innocent lives to shield the perpetrators; when the Lord of the North demanded a trial by combat as was his right, the King tried to make a mockery of the holy ritual in order to murder him. And the Seven spoke against it!"

She paused for effect and was pleased to hear the affirmative murmur. The news of the trial had flown all around King's Landing before night had drawn near, eliciting murmurs of awe and fear that the King had lost the Seven's favour, and the realm with him.

"He's dangerous even to those close to him. Our gracious queen, his own wife and sister, is a constant subject of his ire. And look what he did to me!" Alynna dramatically showed the bruise on her cheek that very few were close enough to see. "He pushed me on the marble floor as I was holding Prince Aegon! Only by the mercy of the Mother did not his own grandson's blood spatter the floor before the Iron Throne."

She paused again. "For the good of the Kingdom and his own good, King Aerys should be relieved by the burden of power. I appeal to you to not let ill-intentioned people use his state of mind to their own benefit."

Again, a pause. The yard of the barrack glimmered with the eyes of the thousands of men gathered there listening to her in rapture. Unbidden, the thought of Errol invaded her mind. Would he have been this enraptured? He had never needed grand speeches to know when she was in need and leap to her defense.

"But where is he who, most of all, should assume the duty to relieve both King and realm from this intolerable situation? Where is he who should assume the title of Protector of the Realm? How does he protect anything? He's given up on all his responsibilities for a woman!"

She stopped and swallowed. She was in dire need of something to drink but she couldn't. Not now.

"That's true," Arthur said grimly. He had appeared out of nowhere and now stood next to her, his white cloak gleaming. "I was there. I saw it with my very eyes."

"When I was chosen to be Prince Rhaegar's bride, that cost me a lot. I had recently buried my husband; I had to leave my children behind, one of them a newborn at the breast. But I did my duty; I gave the Prince two children, hale and hearty, to secure the line of the dragons. I kept his household; I made a home for him where he could rest after his burdens. I was naught but a loyal wife – and how did he repay me? He left without a word, left me and my children for another woman, turned his back to his duties to the realm he was supposed to protect. Rumour has it that he's run away to Essos. He left me and my children to brave the storm of the King's discontent when we were the ones who were wronged! People say that he'll return to drive me and his own son and daughter away from the home I made for him. Men of the City Watch, I beg for your powerful protection. Defend me and my children from the evil intentions of the King and Prince! Dispense justice, for we'll see none of it from them. You already know my daughter, for I gave her to you when we first came to King's Landing with her; I now give you my son. It's in their name that I beg your arms!"

She lifted Aegon high in the air and a cheer shook the yard. By the looks of the men surrounding her, she knew that she had succeeded. She had already won most of the commanders of the gold cloak; now the rank and file roared their approval as well, so thunderously that Rhaenys clung to Melina and Aegon woke up but didn't cry. "Justice! Justice! Aegon and Alynna!"

Far away, in the sea, the Hightower fleet appeared to block any attempt of the royal ships to carry anyone away, should someone manage to escape the Red Keep.

"Come on," Ser Jarmen said. "Let's go."

Alynna headed for her horse. The gold cloaks did the same.

"So? Was that it? And if it was, why was there any need of Harrenhall and all those years of plotting? When it could be achieved in less than a day?"

Those weren't questions that Rickard Stark hadn't asked himself. But he had long ago become reconciled with the idea that some things could only become clear in the aftermath. At his son's age, he had expected immediate clarity as well and railed against time wasted and lives lost as well.

"I suggest that you ask Rhaegar or his lady wife," he said. "I cannot give you the answer."

"I might ask her indeed!"

This time, Rickard could not keep the anger out of his voice. "I'd rather than you don't. You did volunteer your contribution to our relationship to the Iron Throne and it was more than enough!"

Brandon flushed and reached for his goblet. Although the Dornish woman kept them under guard, her hospitality was better than Aerys', so they lacked for nothing. The sound of the copper goblet crashing against the wall would have been so delightful… but his father was right. And if Brandon did throw it, that would only confirm that he was the hotheaded fool Rickard considered him to be.

"It was a mistake. Are you happy now? I made a mistake!"

"A very costly one!"

"I know, I know!"

It wasn't likely that he'd forget. So many friends, so many of his father's bannermen…

"And it was all for nothing. Rhaegar still has her, damn him! When I think of what he might be doing to her right now…"

Now, his father's voice was old and tired, so very tired. "Brandon, I know you're a devoted brother but it's time that you stop fooling yourself. Our Lyanna did go with him on her own will. A man with a wife and two children, one of them a newborn babe." He sighed. "He wouldn't need to force himself upon her. He's already charmed her mind and made her betray us."

He couldn't say which thought hurt more deeply – that Lyanna had conducted herself like a whore or that she had behaved like a stupid whore. What could Rhaegar Targaryen offer her? Dishonoured, deprived of any chance of a worthy match, Lyanna would have to spend her life fighting to keep his interest, fighting the other women who would no doubt come when his interest in her faded. Going to Essos, of all places! His concern about her was as strong as it had been the day he had learned about her disappearance but if she could appear before him right now, he'd gladly bent her over his knee and deliver a good spanking. He had never done so, had pretended that he didn't see her disobedience, believing that she'd grow her wild side eventually. He was to blame as well.

"She might have changed her mind…"

"And Aerys might have become sane!" Finally, Rickard had had too much. He glared at his son, thought about his daughter, and thought, quite unflatteringly, that he had done the world no service with his upbringing of those two. The future Lord of Winterfell! The supposed Lady of the Stormlands! Lyanna was probably somewhere far away, clinging to her illusions as adamantly as Brandon was clinging to his. Rickard feared that she might end up the way Brandon had almost ended up. He still had no idea why they had survived.

The next reprimand he was about to deliver went unspoken because someone knocked at the door. Almost immediately, they were led to converse with the Princess of Dragonstone who had asked for their presence. Judging by the huge amount of Dornishmen and men of the Reach – at least five in every little hallway, - Rickard really wasn't keen on finding out what she would have done if they had declined.

Somewhat to his surprise, they were led not to the throne room but a solar that was big and majestic but unmistakably female, and touched by Dorne – the pillows meant for sitting, the exotic scents, the bright flowers all around. Star kisses, some of them were called. Lyarra had tried to make them bloom in Winterfell. She had failed, of course.

"My lords," the mistress of the room greeted them. She was seated behind a low table with a few goblets and a piece of string before her. Her mother was sitting on a couch, looking unhealthy but better than the day before. Arthur Dayne closed the door behind the newcomers and returned to his duty guarding it. The three men with the Dornish woman nodded in greeting.

Rickard bowed his head and Brandon followed.

"Please take seats," Alynna Gargalen invited and they did so. With her own hands, she poured them some wine and Rickard immediately thought of poison. She was Dornish, after all, this rebel princess. But no, it was stupid of him. If she had wanted them dead, she would have left the fire do the deed.

"How am I to address you now?" Rickard asked bluntly, albeit not disrespectfully, and she smiled.

"Princess or Your Grace will suffice. As of today, I am the official regent of my son who was anointed by the High Septon."

"Did you take the oath on his behalf?"

"I did."

Silence descended upon the room. In the candlelight, there was nothing of the supposed deformity of face and frame that the last birth had left the woman with, causing her husband to run away from her in disgust. She was almost a beauty. But her eyes were harsh, despite her attempts to look calm. Rickard supposed he couldn't blame her. He just geared himself for a fight. She wanted something of him and he'd get to know what it was.

"I think we have many things to talk about," he said. His eyes briefly wandered to the woman who had stopped the fire and then returned to her daughter, Alynna of the fierce eyes.

"I agree," she said. "So, let's start."