Wife of the Wolf, Husband of the Sun.

Book 2

Chapter One-Hundred and Twenty-Four

The Spider's information was as good as ever, the small retinue that was charged with escorting the prince to his comfortable prison came into view. He placed his hand on the hilt of his blade, it had been so long since he had used it in an actual battle, but he was not about to shirk away from his responsibility. He owed it, to the prince, to the boy's father and to himself as well.

He was not alone at least, though his compatriots were hardly a comfort presence. He had not heard much about these Brave Companions before Varys had put him in contact with them, which spoke of them being a relatively new band of sellswords, but they already set his teeth on edge. He would give them a chance to prove themselves of course but all of the men seemed like the worst sort of scum that a band such as this could attract.

They waited until he caught sight of the prince, the boy was ahorse and looked younger than he expected him to be and seemed to be of a delicate constitution to him, but Jon Connington knew better than to judge by how anyone appeared from the outside. Rhaegar might have seemed like a gentle and bookish man on the outside, but he had the heart of a dragon.

The memory of him still hurt but Jon did not allow himself to dwell on it for too long, there was work to be done and so he drew his blade from his scabbard and waited until the retinue was in the right place and when that moment came, he raised his blade and then swung it down and the Dothraki bowman loosed his arrow, sending it flying through the air as quick as a bolt of lightning

The arrow pierced the neck of the horse of the knight that was leading the retinue, the sound it made was awful but the sight of it crashing to the ground and taking its rider down with him was beautiful, the rest of the retinue halted and were in a panic, most of them trying to draw their weapons when Jon and his companions fell up on them.

His old master-at-arms at Griffin's Roost had taught him that when it came to fighting in a group against another group it did not do to focus too much on what was happening to the men on your side, if you worried too much about them then you would not be able to properly defend yourself if you could not trust the men around you to tend for themselves.

And thus, he heeded that advice now, as he circled around another man who was also ahorse, their swords clanging against one another. Again, and again and again, Jon had to fight off the instinct to tell him to yield. It would be pointless if the other man did, Jon would have had to cut his throat regardless. There could be no witnesses, not to this. If word made it back to the capital too soon, then all could be lost.

And so, Jon fought on, until he saw an opening and then he brought his blade down on the joint between the shoulder armour and the arm, the man let out a cry and fell from his horse and Jon did not hesitate as he jumped from the back of his horse and slide his blade through the thin slit of the knight's helm and made an end to it.

It was when he pulled his blade free that he looked around to see how the battle stood, it seemed that the element of surprise had made the battle for them as the rest of the retinue had been taken out by his fellows, with very few loses on their side.

Throughout it all the boy had been frozen atop his horse, his eyes were as wide as the round shield of a Dornishman and he was clenching the reins of his horse so tightly that his knuckles had turned white and when Jon stepped closer to him, he reeled back in his saddle, pulling on the reins as he did so which made the horse rear back and Jon had to step to the side in order to avoid taking a hoof to the face.

"Your Grace, calm yourself. We are no threat to you," Jon shouted over the shrieking of the horse, the moaning of dying men and the cruel laughter of the sellswords, this had not been as clean hoped that it would be.

"You...you leave me alone," Tygett spoke, trying to stay atop his saddle as he stared down at him. Jon was surprised that the boy had not tried to ride away from them. Jon had dismounted and the other riders were to the back of him, he could certainly make a valiant attempt to break away, but Jon saw the fear in his eyes, and he knew that the boy was too scared to attempt it. "I am under the protection of the King, I'm his ward. If you touch me, it is your head."

Jon had to bite back a sigh and not for the first time he cursed Cersei Lannister for taking the elder boy away, Varys had come to him at Griffin's Roost after it had happened, disguised as a fat guard who looked shockingly like a guard that he was sure he saw when his father had ruled in the Roost. Cersei had managed to sprit Aemon away from the Red Keep, and it seemed that the Small Council had blamed Varys for it and thus he had to flee as well, which had just confirmed his guilt.

It had ruined all their plans, the ones that they had been working on for years in order to put Rhaegar's heir on the throne. Jon had not laid eyes on the boy in years, but all Varys reports that had made it clear that he had grown into a man who so closely resembled his father that none could doubt that Rhaegar Targaryen had left an heir in the world, and from all he heard he would have made a fine king.

But there was no point in lamenting what could have been, they had to focus on what was and what they could do about it. "The Usurper is no true king, you are the King, Tygett. We are your true and loyal men, and we are here to protect and escort you to your future."

Tygett glanced at the men Jon had surrounded himself with, he wished he had the ability to call on more men from Griffin's Roost but Eddard Stark had stripped the lordship from him and sentenced him to house arrest, if he had such men then it might have been easier for the boy to accept. Instead, he knew what the boy saw. He saw Vargo Hoat, tall and gaunt with cruel eyes.

He saw Fat Zollo with a whip on his hip and who was currently kicking at one of the boy's dying retinue, he saw Utt, who in one life had been a septon, who was staring back at him with a heat that Jon noticed and knew he would have to do something about. The boy saw Shagwell, who was dancing around the battlefield and laughing like he knew one of the funniest jokes in the world.

Joining such a group would hardly be appealing in the best of times, Jon knew and so he wasn't surprised to see the boy leaning back. "I am no king, I'm not! I'm going to be a Maester, I'm loyal! I'm not the oldest, that's Aemon! You want Aemon!"

The boy had no idea how right he was, but if he was in his mother's care in a foreign land with no protection then he was more than likely already dead, and that was assuming that he managed to survive the voyage which according to some of the reports he had heard of fierce storms on the Narrow Sea as of late was hardly a certainty, nothing was certain.

Fear could give men a queer courage, at times. And it seemed that the boy had found his as he tried to urge his horse forward but before he could Timeon, the Dornishman, leaped on to the back of the horse and wrapped an arm around Tygett's neck and covered his mouth with a handkerchief as the boy screamed and tried to break free from his hold.

Jon was about to shout at him, to command Timeon to release him, but before he could Tygett stilled and went limp and Timeon then leapt from the back of the horse and hauled Tygett off, carrying him over his shoulder. "What did you do to him!?" Jon yelled, his fingers curling around the hilt of his sword.

"Please do not concern yourself my lord," the gentle voice of Qyburn spoke, and Jon had to fight an urge to shudder, Qyburn looked like he could be someone's grandfather and his voice was always soft but there was something in his eyes that made Jon mislike him. "A simple oil of plant essences, it brings on a deep and dreamless sleep. The prince shall awaken in time, with no ill effects."

"This is the boy?" Vargo asked as he walked over, his arms crossed over his chest. "Shall we be away?"

Jon sighed, none of this was the way he wanted it, but this was, it seemed, the way it had to be. "Yes, let us be off. The King's lord grandfather is waiting for."

End of Chapter One-Hundred and Twenty-Four

Another chapter done, the next one should be longer as we head back North for a chapter from Ned's perspective.