Chapter Nine

Moonlight slanted through the godswood's bone-white branches as I waited beneath the heart tree for Jon. The night airs rustled restlessly, and the lingering scent of smoke from the kitchens wafted over the castle walls. I pulled my fur-lined cloak tighter against the chill.

Where was Jon? He should have arrived by now. Unease prickled me. Had something waylaid him? Perhaps he had been unable to slip his guard. But just as I turned to go seek him out, soft footfalls crunched on the gravel path behind me.

I spun, expecting to find Jon's familiar face. Instead, a small hooded figure approached. Pale hands reached up and pulled back the hood to reveal the smirking features of Rhea Baratheon.

My eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here?" I demanded quietly. Had she been spying on me?

Rhea wandered closer, the wispy moonlit leaves casting mottled shadows across her face. "I followed you," she stated bluntly. "If you're meeting someone in secret, I want to know who."

I crossed my arms. "That's none of your concern. Go back to the castle."

She cocked her head, studying me. "We haven't spoken since we were on the Kingsroad together. Why do you avoid me?"

"You know why," I said through gritted teeth. "Now leave, before you ruin everything."

Rhea's green eyes glinted with amusement. "Poor Daemon, still trying to change fate. When will you learn?"

Before I could retort, she turned abruptly and began gliding deeper into the woods. I hesitated, then followed her warily.

"Nothing can stop what's coming," she called back over her shoulder. "Fire, blood, endless winter. Why fight it?"

I quickened my pace until we stood facing each other, the heart tree looming gigantic behind her. "Because I must," I implored her. "How can you have such visions and not want to prevent them?"

"Prevent?" Rhea gave a little impatient shake of her head. "I told you, the future comes no matter what we do."

"Things are already changing," I insisted.

She arched an eyebrow. "For the better?"

When I faltered, she pressed on. "This world is doomed, can't you feel it? I've seen what's coming. The long night. The dead march south in endless legions...nothing lasts." She looked up at the bone-pale branches trembling above us. "All men must die."

A chill ran through me that had nothing to do with the night air. I took a half-step back from her. For a moment, I glimpsed something ancient and cruel move behind her eyes.

Then she turned abruptly away again. "The future is written. I'm wasting breath on you."

She began walking slowly back toward the castle. I watched her receding form, conflicting emotions warring within me. She spoke truth, yet her words unsettled me deeply.

I was about to follow when flames erupted around me in a great rushing roar. I leaped back, trees exploding into sparks and smoke. Rhea whirled, her face stricken.

The air itself burned. I tried to cry out but choked on scorching ash. The flames swirled higher, a dragon's maw engulfing the world, the night dissolving in agony and blinding fire—

I woke screaming, thrashing in tangled bedsheets. My nightshirt was soaked with sweat. Pale dawn light shone through my bedchamber window.

Just a dream. No fire, no smoke, no Rhea. Only the shadows of my room greeted me as I gasped for breath.

With a shaky sigh, I rose to pour water from the silver pitcher into the basin and splash it over my face. What had triggered such a vivid, violent vision? My hands still trembled faintly.

A perfunctory knock preceded my chamber door swinging open. A steward entered holding an armload of fresh linens. "Pardons, m'lord. I've come to change the—Seven save us!"

He dropped the sheets and fell to his knees. "M'lord, what is this magic?" he exclaimed in astonished fear.

I stared at him in bewilderment until I glimpsed my reflection in the looking glass. Scrawled across my face and neck in sprawling black script were unfathomable words in a tongue I did not recognize. The dark writing even covered the backs of my hands.

"It - it's nothing," I stammered out, grabbing a shirt to cover myself. "Ink, from my studies..."

But the steward had already fled the room shouting wildly about witchcraft. Cursing under my breath, I began scrubbing at the strange markings, but they would not wash off. After many frustrating minutes I gave up and hastily dressed.

I needed help, but who could I trust? The maester would think me cursed, and Father would be alarmed. No, I knew who might understand such things. I must seek out Varys.

Making sure my collar covered the mystic writing, I hurried through the castle's winding passages toward the Tower of the Hand. But when I rounded a corner, I found Father and the king blocking my path, deep in discussion.

They looked up with matching frowns. "You're wanted, boy," Robert said without preamble. "The bastard's disappeared in the night."

"Jon?" I asked in surprise.

"Aye, your brother apparently fled the castle before dawn," said Father. His brow creased as he studied me. "The guards claim you met with him last night."

I shifted uneasily. "We spoke only briefly..."

"Boy's probably halfway to the Wall by now, convinced he can escape his punishment," Robert grumbled. His eyes narrowed. "What tales did he tell that made you help him?"

My thoughts raced. How much did they know? But I saw no accusation on Father's face yet, only weariness and disappointment.

I chose my words with care. "Jon asked me to assure you he serves the Night's Watch faithfully, your grace. He feared the troubles there grow dire and require more aid. I think he left to ensure their plea reached you, not to escape justice."

Father's frown remained, but Robert waved a hand. "Let the black crows sort themselves, damn them. I've headaches enough. Come, we've delayed long enough." He strode off down the corridor toward his council chambers.

Father gave me a solemn look. "We will speak more of this later. For now, attend us." He gestured for me to follow the king.

I had no choice but obedience. Questions burned within me, but for now, answers must wait.

In the council chambers, talk soon turned to the ever-growing Targaryen threat across the Narrow Sea. Refugees arriving daily in port told of the vast Dothraki horde rallying around Viserys and Daenerys.

"We should have smashed them years ago!" Robert fumed, his face reddening. "Now they breed more dragonspawn to plague me!"

He rounded furiously on Varys. "You said the girl was useless, fragile!"

The eunuch spread his hands. "Reports claim she grows stronger, and gains fierce loyalty among the Dothraki." He hesitated. "But she is not the true threat."

"Oh?" Robert leaned forward dangerously. "Do explain, Spider."

"My little birds sing of another Targaryen still, one kept hidden across the sea." Varys spoke slowly, his eyes flickering from the king to my father and back. "A boy of an age with Lord Eddard's sons. He could one day contest the throne."

The words dropped like stones in the tense silence. I froze. They couldn't mean Jon...could they?

Cersei gave a silvery laugh. "Really, Lord Varys? You expect us to believe some secret Targaryen prince awaits conveniently overseas? How very theatrical."

Varys shrugged. "Believe what you will, my queen. But the whispers reach me from many tongues. The boy exists."

Robert's face purpled alarmingy. "Enough! I'll have no more damned dragons plaguing me or their whelps contesting my throne!" He pounded a meaty fist on the table. "It's settled. I'm done with this. I'll smash them all!"

The council dissolved into arguing and protests. But an icy horror was creeping through me. What had I set in motion?

As the others filed out, Father's hand gripped my shoulder, turning me to face him. "Do not think I missed your reaction, Daemon," he said gravely. "What do you know of this?"

I wavered. Could I reveal Jon's true name, here and now? But the shadows in the corner of the room warned me our conversation was not private. "Nothing, Father," I replied weakly.

He studied me a long moment before releasing me with a warning frown. I fled the chamber, my thoughts in turmoil. I had to discover what Varys knew and planned. But first I needed to decipher the unnatural markings I now bore before my problems grew any worse. I prayed the Spider had secrets that might help me.

Down in the gloom of the stone-walled dungeons, two gold cloaks guarded the door to Varys' chambers. They exchanged an uneasy look at my approach but allowed me to pass when I adopt my haughtiest tone.

Inside, the air hung humid and heavy with exotic spices that failed to mask the underlying foulness. Candle flames flickered against dark panelled walls. A large Myrish rug displayed a detailed map of Essos.

Varys sat writing at his table, an emerald velvet robe trailing over his crossed legs. He raised one powdered eyebrow at my abrupt entrance.

"Unannounced visitors are dangerous," he lisped. "But to what do I owe the honor, young prince?"

I locked the door securely behind me before approaching. When I lowered my collar to display the strange writing, he made a soft sound of interest and surprise.

"This appeared today, though I remember no ink nor writing it," I explained impatiently. "What magic is at work here?"

The Spider studied the markings intently, circling his table to view them from all angles. "Most curious," he murmured. With one soft, manicured finger he gently traced the spidery script down my neck. I suppressed a shiver at his touch.

"Well?" I pressed. "Can you read it?"

Varys drifted back around to face me. "Alas, no. But I know a sorcerer in Myr who may have deeper insights." He steepled his fingers. "Dark powers stir. Tell me, have you had any...strange dreams, prophetic visions?"

When I hesitated, Varys smiled knowingly. "My little birds sing to me of many things. Your secrets are safe." He tilted his head. "We should help each other, you and I. These are perilous times."

Could the eunuch be trusted? I wavered. But the runes seemed to burn upon my skin, reminding me I had little choice now but to gamble on Varys' aid.

I sank down in the velvet chair opposite him. "There are dreams," I admitted. "Omens of fire, blood and death. Each more troubling than the last."

Varys nodded as if expecting this. He rose and lit a stick of some aromatic herb from a smoldering brazier, waving it slowly through the air between us. "An old trick to dispel less friendly ears."

He settled back down and leaned forward. "Now, tell me everything."

So I recounted my strange dreams and growing powers, keeping only Jon's true name concealed. Varys listened intently, never interrupting. His face remained unreadable.

When I finally finished, he sat silent a long moment. "Dark wings, dark words," he whispered at last. "Death comes for us all."

"Can you help me or not?" I asked in frustration.

Varys tilted his head thoughtfully. "These powers, if honed, could prove most useful. Together, we might guide events wisely. Prevent certain...regrettable outcomes."

"Outcomes like my family being slaughtered?" I demanded.

Varys spread his hands. "I am but a humble servant. But you..." He leaned forward, his eyes gleaming. "...you could wield great influence. Power behind the throne, so to speak."

I stood abruptly. "I don't want more games or veiled plots. Just find out what these markings mean."

Varys bowed his head in acquiescence. "Of course. We shall speak again soon."

Dissatisfied but seeing no better course, I departed back to the less stifling air of the upper castle. I decided to seek a brief respite from my troubles in Arya's lively company before dinner.

But when I reached her chambers, they were empty save for her rumpled furs. No note or any indication where she had gone. Unease pricked me again. After a day of mysteries, I misliked this new disappearance.

At dinner in the Great Hall, Father wore a stoic face that poorly masked his simmering anger as he conversed tensely with the king. No mention was made of Jon or my strange markings. Listening to Robert drunkenly bellow for more wine, I began regretting ever reviving his interest in my vanished brother.

Arya too remained absent from dinner. Between courses, when Father briefly left the king's side, I slipped over to murmur urgently, "Where is Arya?"

Father frowned. "Off sulking somewhere, no doubt. The girl's wolf savaged Joffrey this morning. Cersei was wroth and demanded the beast be put down."

"What?" I exclaimed. "They killed Nymeria?"

"No, the wolf fled. But keeping Arya's own role quiet was...difficult." Father rubbed his temples wearily. "Sometimes that child is too much her aunt's daughter."

I stood conflicted, wanting to rush off and find Arya yet unable to leave without attracting Robert's drunken notice. Father placed a firm hand on my shoulder, guiding me reluctantly back to my seat.

After the cups were cleared away, entertainment began with jugglers, singers and fire-breathers dazzling the increasingly rowdy hall. I slipped away as a dwarf mimicked bawdy acts to roars of laughter from the drunk lords.

Out in the shadowed corridors, I headed straight for Arya's chambers again, vaguely hoping to find her returned. This time, muffled sobs greeted me. I knocked softly. "Arya? It's me."

The door creaked open to reveal her tear-stained face. She grabbed my arm and yanked me inside, shutting it swiftly again. "They killed Lady!" she choked out. "Father said I can't even say her name anymore!"

I gripped her shoulders. "Nymeria's fine, she escaped. Lady and Father had no choice."

Arya shook her head wildly. "I hate them, I hate all of them!"

"Listen, leave Rhea and her ilk to me. There are graver threats now." I hesitated, but she had a right to know. "Jon's missing beyond the Wall. And somehow Varys learned of his...origins."

Her eyes went wide. I held a finger to my lips. "We can't speak openly, even here. Just know darker days are coming." I pulled her into a fierce hug. "But I won't let them hurt you or our family."

Arya hugged me back tightly. When we seperated, her eyes shone with vengeful purpose. I only prayed I could truly keep my vow.

That night, Arya's door remained barricaded, though whether from grief or schemes, I knew not. Troubled, I retired to my chambers. But sleep eluded me for long restless hours as I lay pondering all that had transpired and what role I might play in the trying days ahead.

A strange sound stirred me from my brooding. I sat up, gazing warily about the shadowed bedchamber. Had that been a rustling at my window, or only the wind?

I had nearly convinced myself it was nothing when a hooded figure loomed suddenly over my bed. Before I could cry out, a white hand clamped over my mouth.

"Hush now," Rhea Baratheon's voice warned in my ear. "We wouldn't want anyone interrupting us."

Furious, I wrested free of her grasp. "How dare you invade my bedchambers! Have you lost your wits?" I demanded in a harsh whisper.

Rhea calmly drew down her hood, eyeing me coolly in the moonlight. "When it comes to you, I dare much. We have unfinished business."

"I want no part in your plots," I shot back, though keeping my voice low. If she roused the guards, there was no telling what might happen while tensions ran so high.

She gave an impatient sigh and perched on the foot of my bed. "Must we always be at odds? I've come to make you an offer."

"I'll hear no offers from the likes of you."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "You once thought yourself so clever, whispering in ears to guide events from the shadows. But a storm is coming you cannot weather through meek caution."

She leaned closer. "You need real power. I can teach you to master your gifts as I have mine. No more useless scribbles and parlour tricks." Her voice dropped. "Bend the knee, and I will teach you magics from ancient Valyria itself."

I stared at her shadowed face. Could she truly instruct me in controlling my powers? The temptation gripped me for one heated moment. I could shape fate itself to my whims...protect all I held dear...

No. I shook off her viperous words. That path led only to ruin.

"I don't need your twisted lessons," I said coldly. "Now leave, before my patience ends."

Rhea's eyes narrowed dangerously. Then she rose with a careless shrug. "The offer stands, should you have a change of mind."