Mother's Mercy

Elia wondered if she should feel different, after the High Septon had bowed before Rhaegar and accepted his decision in the castle sept of the Red Keep.

Her marriage had seemed so significant in the moment, with what felt like the whole of the city and more on top assembled to see her wed the Silver Prince and heir to the Iron Throne in the Great Sept of Baelor. It had been important, to her and him and the realm as well. An heir's heir was so very valuable, especially when House Targaryen had lost most of its number in one fell swoop twenty years earlier.

Yet she did not care anymore.

Cersei Lannister had arrived in the city with her father and his war council, protected by a thousand of the most loyal Lannister men. Clad in a dress of crimson silk and cloth-of-gold, and with rubies twinkling in her long golden hair, the girl had looked beautiful stepping from her carriage.

Her tutors had no doubt been the best gold could buy and Elia had found no flaw in her presentation and manner as she had bowed before Rhaegar with her father at her side. She wondered if she had looked at him with that same mix of infatuation and adoration when they had been betrothed three years ago.

She could not recall.

When the girl had stood before Elia, any such feelings had been gone, replaced instead by a glimmer of dark amusement swiftly veiled by a courtly mask. That there was poison hidden in those emerald eyes, she had known already – no one without a taste for cruelty would enjoy hurting an innocent newborn, much less a sibling – but it was a lion's pride and arrogance to think that the replacement could not easily become the replaced again.

Cersei was nearly a woman-grown and beautiful beyond her years, but that would not keep Rhaegar from doing what he wished. Beauty did not snare him in the same way it did most men, Elia was convinced. Otherwise, Ashara or Larra would have been the targets of his affection some time ago.

What exactly had driven him to act as he did, she did not care to know anymore.

Her now former husband had been gone for near a week, ridden to catch up to his armies before they reached the God's Eye, much less encountered the rebel armies marching south from Riverrun. He had sent his mother and brother away shortly before leaving, packed onto a ship for Dragonstone with the Red Keep's master-at-arms Ser Willem Darry and his cousin Ser Jonothor, to keep quiet any word of Rhaella's pregnancy for now.

Which meant her children were the only royal blood left in this gods-forsaken city.

Elia had no qualms about her plan to see to it that they did not remain here without her.

It would condemn them to death to stay and it mattered precious little to her who would be the one to do the deed in the end. A nursemaid paid off to press a pillow to their little faces as they slept, or some cutthroat hired by Varys or Tywin Lannister or whoever else. Allies of Rhaegar they might be, but she trusted no one but the other Dornishmen in King's Landing and that was by sheer necessity.

She could not decide who was the more likely culprit. Tywin Lannister had men in the city, probably beyond even those that had come openly as personal guards for his daughter, but Varys had innumerable spies and he knew the castle better than most anyone else.

Fingering her goblet, Elia turned the vessel against the light thrown by her fireplace, illuminating the wine within. It was a white vintage from the Arbor, light on the tongue and sweet, but she had consumed little more than a thimble since filling the vessel. She wanted her head clear of distractions for this.

There would be no more delaying now. She had hoped for that final piece on the board, one she could trust more than most to be firmly on her side, but whatever his strange abilities, it seemed that even Ser Naruto had limits.

There was a light knock on the door to her solar, only the barest whisper of knuckles but still more than enough to draw her attention in the silence of night. It would be some time until the first servants woke for the day's activities, giving her the time she needed.

Elia rose, the wine entirely forgotten, and quietly opened the iron-banded door.

Four men waited outside, all of them Dornish. One of them nervously checked the dark hallway to both sides, his turning head just barely visible in the dark.

"Your Grace," the leader of the group, Ser Gerard, a knight under Lord Jordayne, dipped his head into a short bow that was quickly copied by the other men with him.

With an acknowledging nod, Elia stepped out into the hall, handed one of them a large, dark cloak and began leading the way. She had gathered four dozen men for her purposes from the Dornish host, but so many would have only drawn attention in Maegor's Holdfast.

These were the most capable she had available to her. Good men, loyal men, born and raised in Dorne, and most importantly more than able in a fight. She wished for no fighting, much less the death of innocent bystanders, but if she was forced to choose her children outweighed any other life.

When the nursery was only a turned corner away, Elia felt the anxiety rise in the air. Her men checked their weapons as if they could have disappeared on the short walk here and more than once they bumped into each other in the darkness, followed by a curse grunted through tight lips.

Flickering lights announced the lit torch in that hallway and there was no need for those in the night without someone standing guard. Her men wordlessly loosened their swords in their scabbards and kept silent.

Dark cloth hid only mail or padded gambesons and not the preferred plate, which no doubt contributed to the heightened nerves, but there was no hope for stealth in a true knight's attire. And that is what was required here, more than anything else.

Her collection of allies could not hope to match the forces in the city or the keep. Fortunately, they had no need to. Guile would see them out of the gates, but first she needed her children.

Elia was the first to turn the corner and see the situation that they had to deal with.

Only one man stood to guard the door to the nursery, the final defence for her children and the future of the royal line in the event of an attack. Usually, a knight of the Kingsguard would have guarded the drawbridge to Maegor's in the night, while his brothers stood guard over the king himself and his family, but only one white cloak remained in the city now, left behind for his age and injury.

Ser Gerold Hightower was a sentinel in white and silver at the door, the only man between Elia and the survival of her children.

Her arrival did not escape the old Lord Commander and he turned to regard her against the shadows at her back, one hand casually balanced on the hilt of his sword. He was large man, though most were when compared to her slight frame, and plate polished to a mirror shine only made him seem more imposing.

Yet the illusion was brittle.

Though it had been weeks since the trial, one side of Ser Gerold's face was still a ghastly mess of pink, puckered skin, pulling his lips into a permanent, lopsided smile and some of the strength he had been known for in the realm had left his frame since his defeat, seemingly without the intent of returning. These days there was always a tired slant to the White Bull's shoulders, whenever he was seen walking the keep.

His hand did not move away from his sword as he politely inclined his head to her. "My lady."

"Ser Gerold," Elia replied, frustration hidden. She took a step towards him and away from the shadows obscuring her companions. The Lord Commander had likely noticed them, but there was hope, perhaps, of avoiding a fight here. "I had thought you were still resting before you took up your duty again. To allow a full recovery in the future."

"I swore my vows," the Whitebull answered heavily. Whether his frown was a reaction to those words spoken or unspoken, she could not say, but his fingers tightened on the hilt of his sword all the same. "Only death will release me from the sacred oath I made. Whether it come suddenly in the night or while leading men in war, only the Stranger will have me lay down my duty."

She swallowed her frustration.

The sounds behind her spoke of movement, and she knew that Ser Gerard and his men were getting ready for a confrontation. Four on one would guarantee the victory, no matter the Lord Commander's experience and skill. In a narrower hall, he might have had a chance, but this one was too wide to keep him from being mobbed by superior numbers.

Ser Gerold began to unsheathe his sword as her own men moved up to her position.

Elia raised a hand to stop them for another moment. A fight would never stay quiet here, not for long. There might not be many people in Maegor's walls, but better not to take the chance at all.

One last attempt. "You will stand between me and the lives of my children?"

"If that becomes necessary, I will," he responded evenly, his sword not quite fully drawn. "My life to guard theirs, against any threat. That was my sworn word."

Steel was bared behind her, and Ser Gerold Hightower's eyes left her for her men.

Elia felt anger seize her heart. "And what of those threats freely invited into these walls? You know your own family's history, do not deny it, and you are no fool, Ser. The Red Keep lacks for nothing less than it does unchecked ambition. Dozens will make their attempts, eventually. Will you stand before me and claim to the Gods to be capable of protecting against them all?"

She remembered the histories of the Dance and its aftermath all too well. The crown might have claimed Princess Jaehaera's death to have been suicide, but she knew the ways of this court well enough to know better. Perhaps it had not been a Kingsguard that had pushed the young girl onto the spikes in the dry moat back then, but they had been sworn to guard her and failed all the same.

It took only a single time, an averted eye, the allure of gold, one moment of hesitation or indecision, one moment of weakness, and then the fate of her children would be sealed.

Ser Gerold took his dark eyes away from the danger he faced to glance at her, gauntleted fingers tightening on the hilt of his sword. There was frustration there, barely visible, though she was not sure what its source was.

Elia closed her eyes in resignation and then stepped aside.

Two steps were all her men were able to take before they stopped again. This time for a different reason. Instead of fully unsheathing his blade, Ser Gerold pushed the steel back into its scabbard.

"I will not claim that," came the quiet words. More than ever before, there was an aged tiredness in the Whitebull's voice. "I swore to guard them, and I will. But if there is no safety to be had behind these walls, they will have to be left behind." He drew himself up, hand on his sword and all his pride on display again. "Where the royal blood goes, I will follow, and do my duty."

Elia did not need to think long. She had made plans for today, many of them, but none had included this turn of events. Killing Ser Gerold was still a possibility, but having the man with her while they escaped the city carried many benefits. Doing so despite that would be a waste if their goals aligned in this way.

"Very well."

Her men remained close while she moved for the nursery.

Her children slept peacefully in the dark chamber and quick steps brought her to Rhaenys' bed first. Elia picked her daughter up as carefully as she could manage, hoping she would not wake, but hope was no match against the whims of the Gods and a child.

Rhaenys squirmed, waking.

"Shhh, it's alright. It's alright," she cooed quietly, rocking her daughter against her shoulder. "It's just me. You can sleep."

Her daughter mumbled some unintelligible words and rubbed at her eyes with a small hand, clearly not going back to sleep.

Elia sighed, quietly frustrated, but there was nothing to be done. She moved to Aegon's bedside, her daughter slowly becoming more and more awake in her arms.

Her son gratefully continued to sleep even while being picked up, though Elia was forced to employ a few sharp 'No's' to keep Rhaenys from shaking her brother awake. A moment of consideration and she called for one of her Dornishmen to take her. Walking through the entire castle with both children in her arms would only slow them down.

"We have to stay quiet. This little trip is a secret," Elia said to her daughter as they left the nursery. "Can you do that for me, Rhaenys?"

The answering nod she earned from her daughter held all a toddler's seriousness and one of Rhaenys' little hands came up to cover her mouth against any escaping sounds.

Before they could make to leave, Rhaenys moved her hand to point at her bed and whispered, "Blerion comes too?"

There was a black lump in her daughter's bed she had taken no notice of before this, a lump that upon closer inspection looked to be breathing softly. There was no time for tantrums or outbursts right now, so Elia did not argue and simply snatched the cat up by the scruff of its neck and pushed it into her daughter's arms. "You have to keep a hold of him, so he won't get lost. And now we have to be quiet."

Rhaenys nodded again in that same serious way and pulled the cat close to her chest.

They left the room behind, the other men and Ser Gerold falling in around them, and hurried through the halls of Maegor's Holdfast as quickly as they could manage.

Soon, they reached the lowered drawbridge that was the only entrance into the castle within a castle. The guard in Targaryen livery who should have been holding the vital choke point was propped up against a wall not far away, almost motionless, his spear and shield discarded on the ground next to him.

Soldiers never turned down ale.

The lower bailey was empty of people and their progress uninhibited, yet every little noise in the night threatened to make her throat constrict. Lord Varys had eyes and ears everywhere, and while he might not personally command any soldiers of his own, the gold cloaks had a barracks within the walls. The Master of Whisperers was part of the Small Council and certainly more than capable of commandeering the City Watch for his purposes.

Yet nothing appeared to stop their progress to the middle bailey, where her Dornishmen waited with horses and covered wagons, and a larger carriage for her and her children. The moonless night made making out details a trial, but torches flickered on the walls, now and again throwing shadows and light across nervous faces and dark cloaks worn to hide familiar sigils.

"A horse for Ser Gerold," Elia said to Ser Gerard as they reached their goal. "And then no delays. We ride immediately."

"At once, Princess."

She climbed into carriage, grateful for the chance to sit and the modicum of safety, and accepted Rhaenys from outside before the door was closed. Aegon shifted restlessly in her arms, only calming again when she ran a gentle hand down his silver-gold hair, and she released a grateful breath. Better he at least sleep through it all.

Elia hugged her children close, and their carriage rolled from the courtyard and beneath the raised portcullis to the outer yard.

As soon as their journey had begun, it halted again.

It was plainly pointless, but she still sat Rhaenys down next to her and drew back the curtains to peer into the night, hoping for any clue as to the situation. The guards in the gatehouses of the Red Keep had been bribed to play along and overlook their departure, making for a free path into the city, but things had clearly not remained as they should have.

Men and horses moved around the carriage and before she could even call for anyone, Ser Gerard beckoned his mount close enough to communicate through the sliding wooden panel without having to shout.

"The gate is closed, Princess. Ser Gerold went to resolve the matter with a few men." The knight tugged on the hood covering his head. "It should only be a short delay."

No matter the words, Elia was perfectly aware of the way the current situation could devolve in a matter of minutes. That was the trouble of leadership. No one was capable of personally controlling all facets of a situation, that was as true on a battlefield as it was when managing a kingdom.

Sometimes, things had to be left for others to sort out.

That made her feel no less uneasy about all this.

"Ser Gerold?" Sarra asked quietly. "How did that come to pass?"

Elia rubbed circles along one temple, hoping to drive away some of her anxiety. She thought of herself as rather patient, but that helped little here. She spared her daughter a small glance before answering. Rhaenys was still awake, the black cat she had been gifted by Oberyn held in a surprisingly gentle grasp and one small hand running through the fur along the back. Elia smoothed her daughter's hair back and smiled fondly when she unsuccessfully tried to hide a yawn.

"He was guarding the children," she explained. "Fortunately, he was convinced of doing his duty somewhere else as well, so long as they remain under his watchful eyes."

"Very fortunate," Sarra agreed with a smile. "And a blessing in this situation. Ser Gerold is not a man for overt deceit or manipulation, so I doubt it would be some ploy. Leaving him to handle the gate should make for a resolution without great trouble or delay."

Perhaps it was simply acquired cynicism from her time at court, but a part of Elia remained doubtful, both of Ser Gerold's sudden change of heart as well as this current issue. She certainly did not believe that the gate was closed without reason.

It turned out that there was no need for that, at least when it came to the second part.

She heard the chains and portcullis rattle, clearing the way, and released a grateful breath. Reins cracked and men spurred their horses and then their carriage rolled forward. Aegon continued to sleep.

They made their way down the winding road that descended Aegon's High Hill. Carriages and wagons were many things, more comfortable to travel in and a refuge from the elements, but they were certainly not fast. Elia dreaded every slow second.

Eventually, they turned down the Hook, wheeling towards the south. At least the city was empty, even more than most nights. Even the usual drunks and malcontents were less active when the moon was hidden, not that they would have been stupid enough to make trouble for a company of armed escorts this size, but empty roads made everything go more smoothly.

Elia could almost feel herself relax. She had worried endlessly about exactly how to go about getting her children out of the castle and to somewhere safe.

A ship had been her first idea, but on the day of departure the guards had been changed all over Maegor's and the inner Red Keep. Only her ladies-in-waiting had ended up on the ship headed for the Dornish coast.

Perhaps it was premature, but she thanked the Gods for getting this far. Only the River Gate and the ferries across the Rush were left, and until then the streets of the city.

The minutes slowly bled into each other, the monotonous impact of rain lulling her into a state of calm. Leaning her head against the cushioned seats, Elia closed her eyes. Only for a few moments.

The drumming of rain on the carriage roof woke her from dozing off. 'Not safe yet,' she silently berated herself. Once they had left the city limits, then she could think about resting, not before.

Her children slept peacefully, unaware of their mother's worries.

Less than an hour after they had left the Red Keep behind, they stopped again.

Elia peeled back the curtain and looked outside at Fishmonger's Square.

The River Gate mirrored the six other gates of the city in construction and size, a stone building towering over the surrounding houses with gates of layered wood thicker than the length of her forearm and a heavy iron portcullis reinforced again to be more resistant against rams.

Unseen on the other side of the closed gate, were the wharfs, where ferries bobbed in the water, waiting to carry them across to the other side.

Rain and night made the world grey and black and little more than that, but hooded lanterns were small, shining beacons scattered all over her view towards the River Gate. Watchmen clustered together in twos with one light source between them, though her knowledge of their usual behaviour helped far more than trying to identify all of the dark splotches half-hidden by horses and cowled riders.

There were many, many dark splotches. Far more than ordinary for one of the city gates, though they were usually those spots with the biggest presence.

The rains were not heavy yet, which would be good for crossing the river quickly and safely, but it still made understanding the details of conversation at that distance difficult.

Ser Gerard and others were close enough to make out some of the details of their movements. Elia did not like the way the knight was reaching for his hip and trying to look casual about it.

One of the two watchmen standing by his horse made to reach for his reins.

"Stand down!" The shout tore through the rain.

A new light joined the others, illuminating a trio of men stepping out of the entrance to one of the towers breasting the gate before striding on a direct course for her carriage, exchanging inaudible words with cloaked guards as they walked.

Elia slid the wooden panel halfway closed. The inside of the carriage was dark, and she hoped that would keep any details from being seen. Her children mercifully continued to sleep.

She reached for Aegon and handed him to Sarra anyway, putting him further out of sight. Surely, they would be looking for two children. Surely, only one would garner no further suspicion. Mother above watch over them all.

The three men reached Ser Gerard's horse, and the watchman that had been intent on holding the reins flinched at a barked command. He inclined his head and stepped away.

Elia knew all the men that commanded the seven city gates, but those knights did not stay awake to guard a closed entrance. If the city was not under siege, it was usually unlikely to be necessary. It was what she had relied on in forming this plan.

The rank-and-file gold cloak did not ordinarily resist much when they were told to open the gate for a noble's entourage, especially at night when they were thinking of the warm barracks and a tankard of ale. Knights were not so easily swayed.

Taking the light from his comrade, the man that had shouted motioned for the two men with him to stay behind. Then he stepped up to her carriage and raised the lantern next to his head. The breastplate identified him as an officer, but there were many of those in the City Watch.

The square, stubbled face under the open-faced helmet reminded her oddly of a mastiff. Elia was sure she did not know the man and yet there was something familiar about him all the same.

"What is the reason for this obstruction, captain?" she asked before he could get any words in himself, affecting a tired but haughty tone. Perhaps the man would not recognise her either.

The guardsman straightened his shoulders, lips set in a grim line. "A thousand pardons, m'lady. Just a simple mistake." His voice was a gruff rasp, well used to shouting orders but far from being pleasant to listen to. "One of my boys got it into their head to make the decision himself. I'll have the gate open for you at once."

"See to it that you do."

He turned towards the tower house he had exited, and waved his lantern in the air, clearly giving some kind of signal. There was an answering flicker of light and soon the portcullis began to inch upwards.

Elia was just about to close the wooden panel when the man turned back towards her, left hand closing over the slit in the wood and forcing the panel to stay open.

He leaned forward just as she leaned back and then his voice was different, no longer rasping or quite so gruff. The light of his lantern was just enough to make out tired blue eyes. "The spider knows your movements. There were orders about you, the children, and all your accomplices."

She knew that voice and those eyes, and that angry red scar on the back of his hand too. "You..."

"I'll try to delay any pursuit before catching up, but I wouldn't dally. There is only so much I can do." He smiled, and it looked all wrong on this different face, but she recognised that expression too. "You should tell Ser Gerold to take off the white cloak if he wants to hide who he is. It's peeking out." Then he winked at her and stepped back to his former distance, the lantern lowered.

Elia almost laughed. She did not.

When he spoke next his voice was gruff and raspy again. "Safe travels, m'lady." Then he turned towards the other gold cloaks nearby. "Let them through and then back inside!"

A few moments later they passed underneath the murder holes and the small barbican on the other side to enter the harbour area.

Another minute had passed when Sarra leaned forward. "Who was that?"

"An ally of mine. I hadn't thought he was here already," Elia answered, unsure whether smiling now was appropriate. "We'd better hurry across that river. If Lord Varys is aware and awake, there is no time to waste."

I hope you enjoyed chapter 47.

Figuring out the exact layout of the Red Keep stumped me for quite some time. The serpentine steps seem like they don't have an understandable location between looking at AGOT and ACOK. They lead to the elevated parts of the castle: the Great Hall, the godswood, etc. but Ned very famously injures his leg in AGOT and I don't think there is a single line about him struggling with them. Only climbing the steps in the Tower of the Hand is ever mentioned.

The events of this chapter kind of rely on your interpretation of Varys (and Young Griff). I think it should be clear to everyone that his whole "I serve the realm"-schtick is bullshit, but there is some debate in the fandom whether his true allegiance is to himself, the Targaryen line/family in some way, the Blackfyres, or simply to his friend Illyrio. I very much doubt that there is any loyalty towards the Targaryens in the eunuch, but he is a master of malicious compliance when it suits him.

Some people seem to have misunderstood me/my authorial intent regarding a line in the last chapter. Naruto thinking that murdering a dozen or so high lords isn't a solution is entirely in character regardless of whether it is true or not.

He might be more willing to pull that figurative trigger in this story than in canon, but there is a pretty clear distinction between assassination and killing in a battle, on a legal and personal level. Naruto of course, has already done the former one very notable time here: when he killed Aerys in his sleep with the intent to stop the fighting and dying. Which made Rhaegar king, something he personally considers kind of equal in badness. So it didn't work, at all.

And for the love of god, I know that Tywin is horrible and deserves to die. There is probably a pretty significant number of lords like that. But that doesn't matter at all. Naruto doesn't fucking know that Tywin will make his guards rape his son's thirteen year old wife in two/three years or that he will ravage the Riverlands in the Wo5K more than a decade later. Naruto hasn't read the book, he has never met the man, stop expecting me to have him hate him for those things at this point.

Just to have this said once: murdering the lords isn't a solution. It might be necessary in certain situations to get closer to some solution, but in and of itself, it is not. You need a plan and influence and means and you need someone to take that problem by the reins and dedicate time and effort to it, if you want to change anything at all.

As for these Author's Notes, you can obviously just ignore them entirely if you want. We're not in fucking school, this is not homework. I'm just writing down part of my thought process regarding certain decisions in the story, or problems with the books in their unfinished state and how I tried to solve them/work with them for those that are interested.

As always, thanks for reading and reviewing. Until next time.