Chapter 18
Notes:
This is a heavy one.
Triggers: Violence (Mentions of burned bodies, cannon typical fighting with medieval weapons, etc.) Discussion of religions, religious punishments, and references to human sacrifice.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
(Qarth)
Quaithe walked along the great arcade, the columns of green and white marble where heroes of the city once stood sentinel now blackened with soot and charred from the flames. She stopped and looked at a burnt corpse, only the rubies and opals encrusted on the body's nose allowed her to recognize Xaro. Behind her lacquered mask the shadowbinder smirked, "I warned you."
Xaro Xhoan Daxos and the rest of the Thirteen would not heed the warnings of the Shadowbinder from Asshai. The Ancient Guild of Spicers did not fare much better as their bodies hung along with those of the Thirteen. The Pureblood and Tourmaline Brotherhood had grudgingly taken her warnings to heart and had broken the chains of their slaves.
"Shadowbinder," turning Quaithe nodded to the man with flame tattoos on his face. Benerro walked ahead of about two dozen of his Fiery Hand soldiers, "I know there is little you fear, but I do ask you do not walk the streets alone."
"If it appeases your worries my Flame of Truth," the Shadowbinder stepped to his side, "I will not stray far."
Benerro sighed as he continued in his high voice, looking at the burnt remains of Xaro, "Was he a friend?"
"An acquaintance, nothing more," Quaithe slipped her arm around Benerro's, "Tell me of Volantis, the breaking of chains."
"The Triarchs squabbled over it for a time," Benerro sighed, "but I am no fool. The right whispers in the ears of those opposed to the brutality of the people. The promise of the Firey Hand at their back became a threat to those unwilling to change their ways. The only hardship came from gaining the support to break nearly three centuries of tradition."
Quaithe nodded knowingly, "You needed a second Tiger, and a woman no less."
"Volantis is," Benerro looked to a patrol of Volantene soldiers, "prepared for the coming darkness."
As they walked, they came upon a gathering of former Qartheen slaves. On a raised podium, Egon Emeros was speaking to the gathered people. In typical Qartheen fashion the man's words were accordingly polite and caring regardless of his personal feelings about the rabble gathered before him. "People of Qarth, the Pureborn weep over the mistreatment of those we serve. Had we known the vileness of the Thirteen and Ancient Guild of Spicer we'd have acted accordingly."
As the man continued to pontificate, swinging the details to make him and the Pureborn out to be the heroes of the tale, Benerro leaned his head close to Quaithe, "Do you think they actually buy this?"
"Qartheen politeness is a mask as impenetrable as my own," Quaithe sighed, "they will buy it and they will love this man who can weep on cue. In the tales told to children at every hearth will be the legend of Egon Emeros the Exquisite. The Pureborn who threw down the evil merchant princes of the Thirteen and Ancient Guild of Spicers. The man who forced the Tourmaline Brotherhood to bow to the rule of the Pureborn and shattered the chains of slavery in the city of Qarth."
"An end of slavery you say," both turned to see the pale face and blue lips of Pyat Pree. The warlock smirked, "Are not all those who serve R'hllor slaves to their god."
Benerro scoffed, "It is one thing to be enslaved to one's gods, it is another to be the thrall of a man of flesh and blood. What draws a lap dog of the Undying from your House of Dust."
"The Undying weep at the loss of their chance to gain the power of the Dragonlords." Pree spoke sorrowfully, "They accept that such a plan would most likely have ended horribly. The warlocks of Qarth are at your service."
"Not that we need you," Quaithe mused, "those of any true talent in Asshai are preparing to head west. The magics of the Wall are ancient and supported by the power of the Old Gods of the First Men and Children of the Forest."
"The Five Forts," Pree whispered, "you fear the Lion of Night will strike again."
Benerro frowned, "If the Maiden-Made-of-Light turns her back upon the world again, it will not be her husband and his demons that come for us." The High Priest of R'hllor looked to both the Shadowbinder and the warlock, "I have seen in the flames the enemy of all, the ancient foe."
Quaithe spoke up, "The Great Magnar of Winter knelt unknowing this selfless act signaled more than the loss of a crown. Unbeaten in combat the Wolf stands alone. When the cold wind blows, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives."
"You know," Pree sneered, "if you Shadowbinders would simply speak plainly more would heed your warnings." He indicated the great arcade, "There would been fewer burnings as well."
Benerro smirked, "The night is dark and full of terrors."
(King's Landing – Fleabottom)
Thoros of Myr grimaced at the shabby old manse. He looked to the little creature perched behind him on the horse, "This your idea of a joke my friend." The Child of the Forest simply tipped its head and blinked slowly. Thoros knew the creature understood him, just lacked either the ability or willingness to answer. He was sure more than one of these little shits could speak the Common Tongue.
Melisandre brought her own horse up alongside him, "You asked for a place we could set a temple."
"Aye," Thoros barked, "I'd at least thought Lord Stark would put us somewhere a bit nicer. Maybe down the street from the Sept of Baelor so we could belittle the pants off that crystal-loving hypocrite the High Septon."
"My dear Thoros," the Asshai'I smirked, "if I didn't know better, I'd think you pious."
The drunkard red priest scoffed, "Don't start you devil in red; Lord of Light never much spoke to me before a few months ago. Then bam, the barmy blighter starts burning images into my head. Wouldn't stop until I got off my damn arse and headed north."
Melisandre fumed, "Do not blaspheme."
"Don't talk to me about blaspheme," Thoros glared, "Thinking yourself some guide to Azor Ahai. You realize you are on the wrong freaking continent. R'hllor guide my hand if I should strike the stupidity and arrogance from my fellow servant."
An involuntary flinch came to Melisandre as Thoros raised a threatening palm. He was halted by a gloved hand with shortened fingers. Davos Seaworth glared at the priest, "The red woman might not be among my favorite people in the world, but I draw the line at striking women. Even a manipulative harpy such as her."
Sighing Melisandre looked to the Onion Knight, "Thank you Ser Davos."
"Don't be thanking me," Davos glared, "be thanking the Ravens who granted me visions. They let me watch a few differing ends you could possibly face. Got my fill of watching you being torn apart by wights, or watching myself either take your damn fire-addled head or strangle the breath out of you."
The red woman grimaced, "You nearly tore my throat out when you awoke."
"What would you expect, I woke with your face so close I thought you were trying to give me the last kiss." Davos huffed. He looked to where a weirwood sapling was sitting in a cart, the small folk looking at the tree with mixed expressions of awe and curiosity, "Not planning to burn that to christen your new temple."
"By R'hllor's heart no," Thoros chuckled, "I'm sure our little friend here would be giving Melisandre and me new smiles if we did something so foolish." The red priest frowned and looked at the rundown manse, "The vision I had on the way from Winterfell was perfectly clear. A weirwood standing within a ring of fire. A face stern yet kind, from its mouth, ran the blood of the gods of old. In front of the tree an altar to R'hllor, with space for all others who come from far and wide."
Davos' brow twitched, "I thought your faith accepted only R'hllor as the true god."
"Please," Thoros scoffed, "R'hllor is at best a baby god. Don't get me wrong, he's powerful and not to be trifled with, but even he knows when to stop and listen to his elders." The priest narrowed his gaze at Melisandre, "As his servants it is our place to not piss off the other gods by committing sacrilege."
Melisandre glared, "I have not yet burned any effigies of the Westrosi gods."
"It's that you would even consider it," both priests turned as did the knight. Thoros snickered as a man approached. A man near as tall as they astride their horses, with skin the color of jet. His flame tattoos stood out boldly as did his mane of white hair.
Thoros dipped his head, "Moqorro, pleasure as always. Don't tell me Benerro doubted Melisandre and I could establish ourselves."
Moqorro's eyes narrowed, "A drunkard priest with no real talent, and a self-righteous priestess that believes herself R'hllor's favored. No, the Flame of Truth had absolute faith in your failure."
A chuckle came from Thoros, "When did you arrive, I mean not easy for a man like yourself to go unnoticed."
"Today," Moqorro smirked, "those of us with talent and clarity of vision are never early or late, we are always exactly where we are meant to be."
Davos snorted, "Now this is a red priest I can respect."
"I am here to serve," Moqorro looked to the Child of the Forest perched behind Thoros, "Little tree tender, you can tell the Magnar of Winter, that I am his to command."
"Hey," Thoros huffed, "I've been working my arse off getting these nobles to respect me and here you are sweeping in just telling the Hand of the King to turn to you for all his Lord of Light needs. That's a low blow poaching my benefactors."
Moqorro rolled his eyes, "I am sure there will be plenty of work for the both of us Thoros." He looked to Melisandre, "Even our Shadowbinder might be found to provide some use."
Thoros noticed Davos giving the three of them curious looks, "Something the matter Seaworth?"
"Um," Davos looked hesitant to broach the subject, "In one of the visions shown to me Melisandre was revealed to be an old crone using a glamour to look as she does now."
"Ah," Thoros nodded, "you're wondering if that is the truth of this world, and in that case which of us is the eldest." Thoros chuckled, "Melisandre is as old as she looks, glamours of the type you describe are forbidden in our faith as they are a form of deception. The glamour she wears is used to hide her scars from her former life as a slave. Besides, glamours do not change the shape of an object or body, nothing drastic like reverting a withered old crone to her youthful appearance."
Davos nodded then spoke, "So which of you will be in charge here?"
Thoros looked behind Moqorro to a handful of other priests and members of the Fiery Hand, "Guess I better dust off my armor. Moqorro you brought your acolytes but no captain for your soldiers."
"Why would I need a captain when a warrior priest of your caliber was at hand," Moqorro boomed, "I will lead at the Temple of the Fiery Tree, you will be our envoy to court and captain of our guards."
Melisandre huffed, "What does that make me?"
Moqorro tilted his head, "Spend some time in reflection before the flames, but this time ask a senior priest before taking action."
(King's Landing – Lannister Manse)
Tywin read the missives from his cousin in Lannisport. At his request they'd paid close attention to the happenings on Pyke, even getting one of their captains there in time for the announcement of Edmure Tully taking the squid's daughter as his wife. Other reports showed the Tully's were now on their way back to Riverrun and ravens were already flying with notifications and invitations of the union between Tully and Greyjoy.
Standing in front of Tywin's desk was his nephew Daven Lannister, "What else had happened while I was busy cleaning up Cersei and Jaime's mess?"
"The Spider has not been seen in the city since the day of his public dressing down by Lords Stannis and Renly. The eunuch is notoriously hard to track and currently, it seems that has not changed. My men have made the rounds of the ports and a man possibly fitting his description was seen boarding a ship to Old Town. This can't be confirmed, and the witness's reliability is questionable."
Tywin snorted, "So in other words the Spider has been loosed upon Westeros without a means to restrain the mummer from whatever plots he might hatch."
"Word has it that Lord Stannis' man Seaworth and the red witch that follows them like a lost puppy has usurped control of the Spider's network of informants. How this was done is unknown."
Remembering how Lord Stark had wrested control of the little birds sent to Winterfell through acts of kindness. The Old Lion smirked, "I have an inkling of how it was done, and it will not be duplicatable here, not now that it has been put to use." Tywin's brows furrowed, "How is Tommen settling into the Tower of the Hand?"
"Well, my lord," Daven shrugged, "He has taken to playing with Lord Stark's son when they are not otherwise engaged in the duties put before them. The young Stark is a dutiful page to the Bold. I even put my name forward to squire the lad. The list is growing in length, with the Blackfish and Loras Tyrell both having already made similar offers."
Tywin nodded in agreement with his nephew's actions, "I can remove the Blackfish from the listing by requesting he take Tommen as his squire."
"Then it's true," Daven smirked, "Brynden Tully is taking the White."
A droll expression came to Tywin's face, "There will be a drastic change in the Kingsguard."
(Red Keep – White Sword Tower)
Barristan Selmy frowned as he finished updating the white book noting Meryn Trant's death by snakebite on the way to Winterfell and the dismissal of Jaime Lannister. Barristan was seated at the head of the table, his seat at the top of the shield, and seats for his six brothers arched around the table.
The door to the common room opened and in walked what remained of his order. Ser Arys Oakheart, the youngest and most recent member. Ser Boros Blunt, a creature of the former queen. Ser Mandon Moore, a dangerous Vale Man whose true loyalties were questionable regardless of the fate of a certain Littlefinger. The last was Ser Preston Greenfield, while he did not hold to the vows of celibacy, he was to some extent a loyal and honorable man.
"Lord Commander," Arys spoke up, "you summoned us? The King and the royal family are unguarded."
Barristan snorted, "Lord Stark and his Grace are meeting in the King's solar, meaning there is a fully grown direwolf present. You were with us in Winterfell, you know she is not one to mess with."
Arys smirked, "I would hazard to guess the Stark children and their protectors are strategically placed with the other royals."
"You would be correct," Barristan nodded.
"Are we cloaking overgrown wolves to replace us," Boros sneered.
Barristan glared, "They are more effective than the mangy pack of curs I'm looking at right now." He saw all but Arys bristles at his words. He and Oakheart had a long discussion on their return trip from the North, they had been the only Kingsguard present who returned. Blunt, Moore, and Greenfield had been left to hold the capital and ostensibly to protect Renly. In truth, Selmy did not trust these three, Meryn either but the king needed at least four of them present.
Moore was not one to speak out often, "This about the visions Lord Commander, you and Ser Jaime had 'em. Rumor has it those that got 'em came down with had a strange fever."
"Aye, it is in that regard," Barristan glared at the four men, "Tell me if the king ordered you to strip a maiden not yet flowered and beat her with the flats of your swords. What would be your response?"
The four knights shared a look before each bowed their heads. It was Arys who responded, already knowing the source of this detailed question. Barristan could see the younger man had still not come to grips with his possible actions, "It is not the place of the Kingsguard to question the orders of the king."
"Ser Boros," Barristan glared at the knight from House Blunt, "Who do we serve, the King or the Queen?"
Boros swallowed hard, "His Grace the King. We protect the Queen and follow her orders as long as they do not conflict with those of the King."
"Another question," Selmy sneered, "Who guarded the Queen's door while she fucked her brother?"
Boros paled, "I…I swear I didn't know they were doing that." Ser Preston looked revolted from his seat next to the man.
Selmy looked to Moore, "Ser Mandon, who do we serve?"
"The King, Lord Commander," the younger knight bowed his head, "I swear, whatever you saw in your visions. I am loyal to my vows, and I will not stray from upholding my duties as a member of the Kingsguard."
"Was it Lysa or Baelish that held your leash?" Barristan asked.
"Littlefinger," Mandon swallowed, "he learned my sister who served as one of Lady Lysa Arryn's ladies was slipping her moontea and causing her miscarriages. I only learned after Littlefinger's death that it was him who was urging her to do so as a means to conceal his dalliances with Lady Arryn."
Blunt coughed, "Does that mean Robert Arryn is really a Stone?"
Moore shook his head, "Robert Arryn was Lord Jon's son. He was conceived here in King's Landing before Littlefinger was called to the capitol to take the position of Master of Coin."
Preston sighed, "Lord Commander, can we swear on our brotherhood to keep this secret among us?"
Barristan nodded, "That we can, but I am not sure that others who have had visions know these truths or not." The others nodded and Selmy stood and walking to Mandon placed a hand on his shoulder, "We are brothers, and your burden is ours. I wish you'd brought this to my attention when Petyr Baelish first began coercing you."
"I am sorry Lord Commander," Moore sighed, and Barristan could feel a tension in the man's shoulders abate. The knight looked to Preston and Arys, "Guessing you are going to ream those two next."
"Arys and I had a rather fruitful conversation on our way back from the North," Barristan moved back to his seat, "Queen Visenya Targaryen was not wrong to admire the dedication of the Night's Watch when she founded our order. I believe Brynden Rivers said it best, we are an order of pent-up warriors lacking a means of release." He looked to Greenfield, "Most of us at least."
Preston swallowed, "I would not think that would be worthy to be told in a vision of the gods."
"We may pay homage to the Seven, but we are an order founded in recognition of an order founded by those who serve the Old Gods." Barristan said, "I'd be less wroth if you'd chosen a woman who is not wed. Adultery is a sin in both faiths of Westeros."
The knight sighed, "We can't all be as strong in our vows as you Lord Commander."
"I am not as strong as you think brother," Selmy mused, "It is only the words of men who came before me in this role that have sustained me. You all joined in the age of the Baratheon King, these past years have been like an entirely different world than the one ruled by the Targaryen. I served the last two Targaryen kings, one was a sickly man, the other a madman. There was a maiden at court during the time of Aerys that I would have been willing to forsake my vows for. I regretted such thoughts, as I remember the words of Lord Commander Hightower, words passed from his predecessors. Love is the death of duty."
Moore frowned, "What are you saying, Lord Commander?"
"My predecessors were wrong," Barristan sighed, "Love is not the death of duty, it is central to it. I ask you each this question," Barristan drew his sword and lay it so its point was aiming at the center of the table, "Do you love our king, our crown prince, and all whose lives we are sworn to protect."
Moore drew his sword and laid it so it crossed Selmy's and pointed at the empty chair once belonging to Jaime, "King might be on the rough side, but Arys here can't stop gushing about the new princes and princess." He gave the younger man next to him a friendly shove.
Smirking Arys drew his blade and laid it across the other two, "Robert has my sword and when the time comes it will pass to Aegon."
Selmy nodded before letting his eyes pass over the empty chair once held by Meryn Trant to land on Boros Blunt. Instead of drawing his sword the former creature of the queen hesitantly reached up to unfasten his white cloak, "Label me craven or dishonorable, but I cannot stand with you. I will swear with my last breath I knew not the deeds of the Queen and Kingslayer." Boros walked to a cabinet in the corner and hung the cloak over the door before pulling a black one from within, "I'll be up North with Jaime when you are ready to face the terrors in the dark."
With a sigh, Selmy waited for their former brother to reach the door to the chamber, "Safe travels, and we will stand with you again on the appointed day against the ancient foe." Once Boros had left the chamber Selmy looked to Preston.
The Knight drew his sword and laid it to mirror that of Arys, "I hold my vows sacred and am a man of the Seven. I stand with you, Lord Commander."
Selmy gave a solemn look to Jaime's empty chair before sitting, "We are now lacking three, names."
Arys spoke first, "The Maid of Tarth." Barristan had prompted the younger man to put forward Brienne of Tarth. As Lord Commander, it was improper for him to directly nominate people.
"The Maid of Tarth," Preston frowned, "I know not that moniker. Who is he?"
"He is a she," Arys corrected, "and if rumors are to be believed she may be the blood of Duncan the Tall. While not the most homily of maidens, her swordsmanship is more than adequate. When confronted by the betrothed who said as his wife, she'd have to give up the sword, she said he'd have to defeat her first. She came out of that fight the victor, breaking three of the man's bones along with the betrothal."
Preston frowned as he sat, "There is the problem that she is not a knight."
"That can be resolved," Sitting Mandon leaned back in his chair crossing his arms, "She's the only heir of House Tarth though if I'm not mistaken."
"Of the current lord's line yes," Selmy as a Stormlander knew the status of the Tarth lineage, "He has a cousin on the Wall. His vows were not freely given so the King could request he be released."
Preston looked confused, "Not freely given?"
"Endrew Tarth allied himself with Jon Connington and the other Stormlords who turned their cloaks for the Targaryen during the Rebellion." Selmy clarified, "He was among those Robert sent to the Wall following the war."
"Wasn't that his choice?" Preston asked.
Mandon snorted, "When it came to the Stormlanders that sided with Aerys, let's just say Robert wasn't in what you'd call a merciful mood. He embodied the words ours is the fury."
Agreeing Selmy looked at the knight, "You are not hesitant to add a woman to our order?"
"Not to speak ill of our recently departed brother, but," Mandon sneered, "Boros was shit as a knight. If she can hold her own in a fight. Seven hells, our princess wields a sword better than Blunt ever has."
Selmy smirked, the other day he'd had to chase Preston from the common room as he was late for his rounds. The man was recounting watching Daenerys training with the Stark girls to an enraptured Mandon and Boros. When seeing no other challenge from Preston he nodded, "That is one name I will present to the King." He indicated there were still two empty seats.
"The Blackfish," Mandon Moore drawled out, "If we are to fight a war against the dead, we need leadership. I'm all for fighting, but I'm the first to admit I'm shit at leading soldiers." He indicated Arys and Preston, "These two aren't much better. Arys is a tourney knight, and hasn't seen more than a brothel house scuffle when escorting His Grace."
"Agreed," Preston nodded, "he's been guarding the Gates of the Moon in the Vale since the Rebellion. Guy has to have some insight into these wildling cunts as well."
Mandon as the only one from the Vale spat, "Wildlings got nothing on the Mountain Clans."
Arys without a complaint on the suggested appointment began counting, "I'm from the Reach, Mandon from the Vale, Preston is Westlander, Lord Commander is from the Stormlands. Lady Tarth would also be from the Stormlands and Ser Tully is from the Riverlands though he has been in service to the Vale."
"Means the final seat should be a Dornish or Northman," Preston looked to Selmy.
Barristan nodded, "Suggestions?"
"Prince Quentyn Martell," they looked to the door to see Oberyn sternly observing them, "Pardon the intrusion, but I grew curious when I saw Ser Boros Blunt was waiting to speak with His Grace wearing a black cloak."
"Master of Whispers," Barristan glared, "our nominations are open secrets. Boros believed his place was elsewhere."
"By elsewhere you mean the Wall, as that is the one choice for one who willingly gives up his white cloak," Oberyn smirked, "As for my suggestion, it's more a forceful request. I'd rather my nephew not know it was I who suggested his name, neither my brother for that matter. I know Doran well enough, he wants Quentyn out of the way and he is not above arranging an accident."
Arys gulped, "Should you be telling us that your brother intends to commit kinslaying?"
"Did I say kinslaying, I said arrange an accident," Oberyn smirked, "Accidents do not necessarily need to be fatal to remove someone from a succession line. Father, please give me strength to deal with these Andals."
Barristan stood, "Why would your brother wish his heir removed?"
"Dorn remember. His heir is my beautiful niece," Oberyn charmingly grinned, "At least till she weds Willas and leaves for the Reach. As for why he wishes Qyentyn out of the way. That unfortunately is partially my fault. The former lord Yornwood's paramour and I had a bit of a tryst, we got caught in the Lord's bed and he challenged me to a duel of honor. It was to first blood, I won while Lord Yornwood's wound got infected due to inadequate care." He glared at the Kingsguard around the table, "I did not poison my spear," he paused, "well that time."
Barristan nodded, "I remember hearing about that, your brother exiled you to Essos for a time. He also had to send his son Quentyn to ward with Yornwood."
Oberyn nodded, "Exactly, as well as the problem. Yornwood has twisted the boy into his creature. With him as the Prince of Dorne, it would be a calamity for our people. His younger brother has been raised to rule. Not that it matters much now, but Arianne was to marry Viserys and be queen. Slight change of plans now that he's dead and our nephew made a miraculous return." Oberyn noticed the unsurprised look on Barristan's face and sighed, "Not that any of that surprises one who has been given visions of future possibilities."
(Tower of the Hand)
Ned sat at the table in the main living area of the tower. It was late in the evening, and he arrived to find most of the youths of the keep gathered here, along with four direwolves. Well, five now that his own had entered. While Aegon had chambers in Maegor's Holdfast, he'd taken to sharing his brother Jon's chamber in the Hand's Tower. Bran and Tommen were already sharing, and currently, they were watching as Lief showed Sansa, Daenerys, and Jeyne to weave using strips of tree bark. Loras had unbiddenly taken up the post as Aegon's sworn shield.
His only saving grace was Oberyn and his family kept a manse a short distance from the city. On principle, they limited time in the Red Keep to only what was unavoidably necessary. Oberyn's argument was that as Master of Whispers, it was good to have a place away from prying eyes to manage the secrets of the realm.
"Father," Bran ran over to him, "is it true there is going to be a tourney?"
Sighing Ned forced a smile to not dampen his son's enthusiasm, "Yes, against my wishes, but Robert made rather infallible argument. To celebrate my installation as the Hand of the King, as well as to introduce the new heir to the crown to the people."
Aegon looked to Lord Stark, "Can we also just include Sansa and my betrothal to the mix and save time. Otherwise, Cousin Robert is going to undo all of your and Lord Tyrion's hard work at resolving the realm's financial problems."
Glaring at the young prince something occurred to Ned, "Wait a minute," he recounted the direwolves, "Where is Arya?"
Edric looked up from the game of cyvasse he was trying to teach Jon, "Think she and Nymeria, both of them went exploring after dinner."
Ned frowned, "Nymeria was here, I thought she and her sisters were staying at their manse."
"Uncle Oberyn had business with the Lord Commander, she wouldn't say what exactly," Aegon answered regarding his uncle and cousin.
Edric picked up with a knowing look, "She wanted to take the opportunity to check on Arya. After spending this much time with my little sister, even I think the quicker we leave this city the happier she'll be."
Truthfully Ned did not wish to see his children leave, but they would be departing sooner rather than later. There would be the tourney, followed by Edmure and Asha Greyjoy's wedding at the Sept of Riverrun. Ned had promised Cat he'd send the children to attend. Events in the North were preventing Robb from making the journey, but he'd assured that he'd assembled a guard to escort Rickon to Riverrun.
After the wedding Aegon, Sansa, Jon, and Bran, guarded by Barristan and at least one other kingsguard would continue on to visit the Eyrie. From there they would travel to Dorne, the Reach, and the Stormlands before returning to King's Landing. Only the Iron Islands and Westerlands would be missed on this impromptu royal progress. Both were intentional by the order of Robert.
Arya would return to King's Landing after the wedding, but only briefly. Edric was already long overdue to return to Starfall. They were to depart by ship a few days after Arya returned from Riverrun, with any luck she and her company would be settled by the time her other siblings reached Dorne.
A firm feminine hand landed on his shoulder, he looked to see Dacy smirking at him, "Brooding as much as you do brother dearest is not healthy."
"I don't seem to get much of it when you're around little wolf-bear," Ned japed.
Daenerys looked to where Alysane sat with her 'bear' their children having been put to bed already, "Has Lord Stark always been closer to Lady Dacey?"
"Aye, but I'm the sister that didn't nearly lose her life," Alysane quipped, "also helped I was born with the Mormont looks. Pretty sure if the Squids hadn't pissed off the rest of Westeros, the Southrons would be making a song about how the Quiet Wolf turned the Iron Islands into the Silent Islands."
"Would father have gone that far?" Sansa asked.
Alysane nodded, "For the pack, my brother would build the pyres high enough to beseech the gods of sky and storms."
"That's a new combination," Aegon frowned, "I thought the gods of the sky were usually paired with the gods of the sea."
"Reachers use that combo," Dacey explained, "Stoney Coast of the North including Bear Island we're mostly tree and earth people but some of our fisherfolk are known to pray to the gods of sky and storms to ensure good weather. Others add the gods of sea to ensure a good haul of fish."
Aegon grumbled, "Why hasn't a maester written this all down?"
"They did," Edric mused, "the Citadel is a First Men institution, but it was taken over by the Andals. All tomes related to the study of the Old Gods were declared heresy by the Most Devout and all copies were burnt. Since there isn't a secular system of faith with the Old Gods, most followers pass things down parent to child."
Lief pipped up, "We guided."
"She means they were our living texts," Ned chuckled, "all the ways our people paid homage to the Old Gods were learned from our interactions with the Children of the Forest from the end of the first Long Night to the start of the Andal invasion."
Sansa frowned, "Why'd they leave the North though, the Andals didn't succeed in converting us."
"You grew up following your mother's faith Sansa," Alysane reminded, "you did the rites and rituals you knew would insult the other houses if you didn't do them. As for why the Children of the Forest left, they never did."
Lief puffed up proud of her kinfolk that had survived south of the wall, "We are good hiders. Big people are just bad seekers. Giants even worse seekers."
"So, there were Children of the Forest in Winterfell before you and the others showed up?" Jeyne asked from next to Sansa.
"In the godswood," Lief smiled, "listening to prayers."
Jeyne reddened, "They were spying on our prayers?"
"Don't tease her Lief," Ned scolded, before looking to the daughter of his steward, "Do not worry Jeyne, they treat prayers to the gods as sacred. They do not speak them to another human ear unless they feel it's the gods will."
Aegon frowned, "How would they know it's the gods will?"
Jon chuckled, "Our gods are not silent gods, they might not speak like we are now, but when they want to be heard you know it." Aegon looked skeptical so Jon continued, "When Father went to fight the Greyjoys, Robb and I would go to the godswood and pray for his return every day. As we finished our prayers, we'd feel a calm breeze but the limbs of the weirwood and sentinels were untouched."
Edric nodded, "At Starfall, I would pray in our godswood, but I would have to do so at night to avoid being seen by our Septon. Sometimes, when I would ask something of the gods, I would feel warmth like the rays of the sun on my back."
Ned felt his hackles rise at hearing a child of his had to sneak about to connect with their gods. Dacey's hand, which was still on his shoulder tightened its grip. Her voice came out with a threatening edge, "Dearest nephew does that Septon remains in Starfall?"
Edric gulped, "No, that particular Septon walks with the Stranger now. His replacement is a much more tolerant man of faith. He often sits with me during my prayers, and says we should get all the help we can in our world."
"Smart man," Ned took a drink of ale. Setting his goblet down he reached over and mussed Bran's hair, "Not that I mind discussing matters of faith, but we have a busy day tomorrow."
Tommen looked up sadly, "Mama's trial." Jeyne reached to the boy and squeezed his shoulder.
"Aye," Ned grimaced, "not that there will be much in the way of one as your mother has confessed her guilt. I have been racking my brain over what to do with her."
Aegon frowned, "Not to be harsh, but her crimes are many, including arranging the deaths of my mother," he indicated to Jon, "and our sister."
"It's not so simple," Alysane said, "If the gods wanted her dead, she'd have not waken from the renewal ceremony in Winterfell." Ned glared at his blunt sibling; tact had never been an element of his youngest sister's character.
Aegon glared, "What, she survives a ritual and so she is forgiven?"
"Forgiven," Dacey snorted, "forgiveness would have been death and a chance at a new life. That is the point of a renewal rite. It cleanses the soul of one's sins. Broken vows and affronts to the gods are confronted and the grievances are laid bare."
Edric frowned, "But my mother also woke from the ritual."
"Different case, Desert Wolf," Alysane said gruffly, "your mother was confronting personal demons. By our faith she hadn't actually done anything wrong, so to speak. She was confronting her own guilt over abandoning you and Ned…err…your father."
Sansa frowned, "Should we be speaking of what was said during a renewal ceremony?"
"Mother already told me about hers," Edric confirmed, "I'd hazard to guess she might have told Father after you schemed to have them meet in the godswood the morning after."
Jon winced, "Let's not give Father a reason to remember it's been two months since last he tested us in the training yard."
The door to the common space opened admitting Lady Dayne carrying Arya with Nymeria the direwolf and Nymeria the Sand Snake following. Ashara glared at the room at large, "First I find this little wolf wandering the halls half asleep, and now I find the rest of the menagerie awake when you should have all been to bed hours ago."
Ned grimaced, "I was just sending them off."
"I bet," Ashara Dayne turned to the boys first, "Edric, Egg, Jon, you have four minutes to have Bran and Tommen in their beds as well as yourselves. If even one of you isn't under your covers when I come to check, I'll have Ser Barristan make you run the gauntlet."
Aegon frowned as his brother and Edric leaped up and moved to get Bran and Tommen headed for their rooms, "What's the gauntlet?"
"Consecutive sparing matches with the Kingsguard until you defeat one of them or they accept your yield," Ned explained, "be thankful they're short a few members currently." Aegon didn't hesitate to follow his brothers.
Loras chuckled, "I'm lucky to be knighted."
"Tyrell," Ashara deadpanned, "I'm sure Barristan wouldn't mind testing your skills either." Gulping the young knight followed the prince. Once the boys were dealt with Ashara passed Arya to Sansa, "Girls, get ready for bed, I'll be in to check on you after a bit." As the girls went, she turned to Nymeria, "Nym, go with them, I will send a messenger to your father in the morning with a strongly written letter addressing the fact that he left the Red Keep forgetting he brought someone with him." Nymeria nodded her thanks to Ashara and Lord Stark before following the girls to their rooms.
With that taken care of Ashara glared at the four adults in the room, sharing a suffering look with the father of Alysane's children. The poor man people never seemed to refer to by name, she wondered if he even remembered his own name, or just answered to Alysane's Bear.
Ned had let Ashara scatter the children, "How did you find Arya? Edric said you were retiring for the evening."
"I was," Ashara sighed, "Then a sleepy-eyed little she-wolf, her larger direwolf companion, and her Sand Snake escort who forgot she rarely spent much time outside of the maiden vault on the two visits she made to the Red Keep when she was a small child remembered where Edric and my quest quarters are. Not that Edric spends much time there unofficially."
Ned could understand Ashara's upset, but she would be traveling with Edric and Arya to Starfall. Officially Edric's actual parentage had not been publicly revealed. Though almost all the Lords in the North knew, and a majority of the Dornish Lords with strong loyalty to Doran knew at this point. Edric wanted to spend more time with Ned, which was one of the reasons he wasn't journeying with his siblings to Riverrun.
This along with the impropriety of Ned housing an unmarried woman of no relation to him in the Tower of the Hand so soon after the end of his marriage to Catelyn. That had been one reason he'd had Alysane and Dacey reveal their relation to him. It had worked as expected, Renly had gossiped, including to Loras. The Reacher though was already aware, referring to the gossip as the worst-kept secret in the North. This had gotten back to Ned during a small council meeting, with Robert, Tyrion, and Oberyn all chuckling at Renly's disappointment about the evidently not-so-shocking gossip.
Dacey patted his shoulder, "I'll help Lady Dayne see to the menagerie. A decent night's sleep might help you figure out what to do with the Cuckolding Queen."
Ashara frowned, "He still hasn't figured out a punishment?"
"If not for the fact she turned to my gods, I'd send her to the silent sisters," Ned growled, "but they are under the auspices of the Most Devout. A man I could send to the Wall."
Alysane spoke up, "How about a tending of nine?"
"She's highborn and we'd need a newly pregnant woman," Ashara shook her head, "that punishment is for less serious crimes."
Dacey frowned, "How about matronage?"
"You met Joffrey, you actually want that woman raising orphans?" Ned snorted.
Ashara grimaced, "Realize our ancestors were rather light on the punishments for women."
"Not really," Ned frowned, "just most punishments resulted in giving the condemned to the gods."
Alysane's Bear snorted, "Sure His Grace would be agreeable."
"Unfortunately, the renewal ceremony negates that as a feasible solution," Dacey mused, "Ned, what about banishment to the Isle of Faces?"
Ashara smirked, "She'd throw herself into the God's Eye within the week."
Ned rubbed his chin in thought before looking to Lief, "Lief, would your people take her?"
"Broken things come to the Isle of the Faces," Lief mused, "Some never leave, rarely they leave."
(Next Morning)
Aegon rose from his cot in the chambers claimed by his younger brother. Jon had tried to pass the bed off to the elder of the brothers, but Aegon didn't feel right about taking one of the few luxuries his brother allowed himself. He'd seen Jon's old room in Winterfell, and Lord Stark had done what he could to make the spartan cell meant for a visiting Night's Watch member comfortable.
Looking across the room he saw Jon was already awake and attempting to run a straight razor across the stubble along his jaw. Grimacing when his brother nearly nicked himself with the razor he got up and crossed the room, "Give me that before you make me an only child again."
Jon relinquished the razor with an eye roll, "Don't be dramatic."
Snorting Aegon tilted Jon's head and expertly swiped the razor across the stubble, "Dramatic, you're four and ten and can't even shave."
"You're barely a year older than me. In the North, we only shaved for special occasions, and we had Hullen, Farlen, or Mikken to turn to when Lady Stark wanted us looking presentable." Jon rubbed his chin once his brother released his hold, "How do you know how to shave?"
"Used to dye my hair blue, as did Connington to pose as my father. His beard though was red, so I could avoid shaving for a couple days. Father's coloring means my stubble isn't as obvious as yours. Though, if I let it go too long people might have noticed the hair was silver blond. Connington was always a bit paranoid we'd be discovered." Aegon rinsed the razor in the basin bowl as he examined his own face in the reflecting mirror, "His paranoia meant I couldn't get help from most those around us, even Duck. Lady Dayne taught me how to hold the razor so I wouldn't cut myself."
A quick lesson in personal grooming later and Aegon folded the razor and laid it next to the basin bowl, "I am surprised Lord Stark never taught you and Robb."
"Really," Jon scoffed, "Father's face hasn't been seen lacking a beard since the reign of our grandfather." The mention of Aerys made both of them grimace. Jon moved to his wardrobe, "You going to the holdfast to change?"
"To the right, I hid a couple tunics in there the other day." Aegon picked up his breeches from the day before, they were still in decent condition, with no stains and only the slightest odor from the previous day's training, "These will do for today."
Jon frowned as he tossed a tunic with the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen at him, "You know if you're not ready to stay in the holdfast, Father could arrange an actual room here in the tower."
Aegon grimaced, he'd tried staying in the holdfast the first few nights upon their arrival. The first night had seen him awaken from a nightmare and driven him to seek Lady Dayne. He'd stayed in the spare room in her and Edric's guest suite the remainder of that night. Few of the small council had believed his story that he'd been visiting with the Daynes and was just too tired to make the journey back to the holdfast.
The second night Stannis had caught him before he even left the holdfast. The middle Baratheon brother had made the realization the chambers Aegon had been given were those of the Crown Prince, in other words, the rooms where his sister was butchered. That evening he stayed in a guestroom of the Lord of Dragonstone's apartments. The following evening a cot appeared in Jon's room to accommodate Aegon's extended visits with his brother and aunt in the Tower of the Hand that tended to prevent him from returning to the holdfast. He and Jon had also spent a few evenings as the Martell Manse outside the city.
Sighing Aegon shook his head, "I will have to get over this, what kind of king lets nightmares chase him from his own chambers."
"The kind of king whose sister was brutally murdered, whose mother was brutally killed, whose stepmother was left unattended to die in childbirth, and whose father died in a battle that could have been prevented." Jon huffed as he pulled on a tunic with the white direwolf blazoned on the chest and three-headed dragons on his shoulders. His younger brother looked to where his direwolf lay watching them, "The night I found out the truth, Father didn't know you were alive. Well, I guess he probably did from the visions, but he didn't say anything to me. Lord Tywin was already at Winterfell; Ghost was still small enough that I could carry him around. I confronted him, it was just him and me in a room, and all I wanted to do was rip his throat out and watch him bleed out. Let him suffer like he'd made Elia and Rhaenys. Bash his skull in like was supposedly done to you. Father hadn't gone into details about my mother, even the visions hadn't revealed more than what he already knew in that regard."
Aegon gripped his brother's shoulders, "Jon, today is not about vengeance or making someone pay for what happened to our family and Houses. Today we see justice done. Lord Stark has no doubt devised a truly suitable punishment for Cersei Lannister. It will not bring our lost back to us, but one more of those responsible will be removed." Jon nodded and Aegon moved to the door.
They emerged to minor chaos as Sansa was busy checking that Arya, Bran, and Tommen were suitably presentable. Already Syrio and Ser Cassel were waiting for them as well. As Edric exited his room Sansa's gaze swept to them, "At least you three are presentable. Jon, I'm taking Arya, Bran and Tommen down to the castle's sept for the morning sermon. The High Septon sent word he was planning the service to ask The Father to give our Father guidance in his deliberations."
Edric grimaced, "More like give him the nudge to just toss her to the Faith's tender mercies."
Sansa covered Tommen's ears, "Edric, please, it is hard enough on him, and think of poor Mrycella, she has nobody but her boorish grandfather."
"What about Lord Tyrion?" Jon asked.
Aegon shook his head, "He took up residence in the Master of Coin's suite in the holdfast. After having a Septon purify it of the stench of its previous inhabitant." He looked to his brother, "How do First Men purify a room after something bad or it housed a revolting person."
"Fire," Jon deadpanned, "copious amounts."
Edric nodded, "The runic combination for purification or purity is the vertical combination of fire and birth."
Sansa glared as Ser Cassel snorted. Aegon looked at them curiously before asking, "What's the matter."
"Presented horizontally," Jon looked at the three younger children, "the runes mean something normally only husbands and wives do in their private chambers." Jon snickered as he looked at Sansa who was starting to turn red, "A few years ago Lord Royce and his family visited Winterfell. Sansa was about six and father was trying to teach her runes. The Royce tradition is to place runes on their armor. Lord Yohn has the runes for purity engraved over his heart on his armor. I wasn't present of course, but Robb told me later that Sansa asked Father quite loudly why Lord Royce had something vulgar adorning his chest plate."
Snorts came from Arya and Bran, but Tommen fought to hide his mirth. Fuming Sansa made it to Jon in two steps and swatted his shoulder, "I was six, and Father hadn't told me exactly what those runes meant like that just not to write them together."
Smirking Aegon felt no compunction to save his little brother from Sansa Stark's wrath. He noticed though that Ser Cassel and Syrio were the only others in the tower, "Where are Lord Stark and the others?"
"Mormonts are seeing to their own affairs, said they'd be back in time for the main event." Rodrick Cassel explained, "Lord Stark himself went to the godswood."
Jon nodded, "Think I'll join him. Edric you good to help Lady Sansa with the pups."
"Yes, the story will be I was taking a morning walk and happened upon Lady Sansa struggling to wrangle her two wildling siblings and a stray lion cub." Edric looked around, "Where is Daenerys and Jeyne?"
Sansa sighed, "Jeyne was summoned by her father to run some errands. Loras received word that Shereen sent Dany an invitation to break their fast together. Sorry Prince Aegon but your aunt borrowed your sworn shield for the morning."
"Oh, whatever shall I do," Aegon looked to Jon, "Mind if I tag along to the godswood little brother. I rather avoid the High Septon today."
Sansa frowned, "What's wrong with the High Septon?"
"Nothing," Aegon sighed, "He's a decent upstanding member of the Faith."
Jon shook his head, "He attended the small council meeting yesterday. He was trying to sway Father into censuring Cersei's declaration of being a follower of the Old Gods and surrendering her to be tried by the Most Devout." Jon looked to Aegon, "But that isn't what's got Egg disquieted about the man. I was at my post at the door, and when the High Septon realized my identity. He called me Blackfyre spawn."
Arya growled, "You're not a Blackfyre."
"Definitely," Edric agreed, "though I'm guessing he wasn't implying you are actually related to the Blackfyres just that in his eyes you're still illegitimate."
Jon nodded and Sansa huffed, "Father must have been furious."
"I didn't give him a chance to react," Aegon growled, "I told the High Septon if he ever called my brother that again I'd shove that ridiculous crystal crown of his so far up his bum he'd taste it."
Arya let out a laugh along with the two boys. Sansa made a decision and pushed her sister towards Jon, "Take Arya with you, after that, she's not going to be able to sit through a sermon with a straight face."
"Can I go too?" Bran asked.
Edric moved to stand next to Bran, "Sorry little brother, but we can't have Sansa facing the big bad High Septon alone. She broods over the man's disrespect of Jon long enough, and she might send Lady to eat him. We can't have that now can we?"
As Bran shook his head in agreement with Edric's explanation, Tommen gulped, "The wolves eat people?"
"Only bad people," Edric assured, "Good little lion cubs who follow directions and eat all their vegetables have nothing to worry about."
"Don't scare him Edric," Sansa scolded.
Aegon chuckled as he headed for the door leading out of the tower with Jon and Arya. All three of them dawned sword belts as they exited. Arya's belt held a practice sword modeled after her sword Needle. Aegon and Jon though carried live steel.
The halls of the Red Keep were mostly empty save for servants going about their morning routines. A few courtiers were already out and about, the whispers from passing conversations centered around the trial that would be held after midday. Aegon noticed a few courtiers move to greet him, but most halted at the presence of Jon and Arya. Many in the court did not know how to react to Jon, or the closeness of the half-brothers.
"Your Graces," Arys Oakheart appeared around the corner, "I was on my way to report to you." He looked to Jon, "Barristan said he was giving you the day off. Mandon will be along after he finishes breaking his fast to be your shadow."
"Why?" Jon frowned, "Shouldn't he be with the King or someone from the main family."
"You're my brother, Jon," Aegon reminded, "I'm the Crown Prince which means if something happens to me the next in line is you then Daenerys. Stannis and Renly are supporting the Targaryen restoration by relinquishing their claims as Robert's heirs, but they are still in line for the throne after the three of us."
"Right," Jon nodded, "Still getting used to that."
Arys chuckled, "No problem my prince, so where are we headed."
"Godswood," Jon said, "father…Lord Stark is there praying."
Arys fell into step behind them, "Right, been a bit since I've been there. Was one of Princess…er Lady Myrcella's favorite places. Tommen and she would go there to escape Joffrey. He was terrible to them, but he never bothered them out there."
It was not Aegon's first trip to the godswood, he'd gone with the others after their arrival to examine the space. Renly had informed them a Riverlands Knight of House Blackwood had arrived with several weirwood saplings a moon before they reached King's Landing. One had been planted in the godswood to replace the mockery that had been in place since the weirwood planted by Aegon's ancestors was destroyed during the Dance.
As they entered the gardens that served as the godswood a sound he wasn't expecting was heard. His hand went to the sword at his waist as he realized it was the sound of steel crossing steel. Jon spoke first as they and the kingsguard drew their swords, "Oakheart watch Arya."
Arys made to retort, but Aegon and Jon were already moving. They arrived at the weirwood to see Lord Stark engaging with a large man wearing a black cloak. It was obvious Stark was not having trouble with his opponent but had to split focus as he and the four Northmen guards with him were also engaged by ten cutthroats.
It didn't take long to figure out how the men made it into the castle as Aegon recognized the man Lord Stark was engaging, "That's Boros Blunt."
A growl ripped from Jon's throat, Aegon noticed Lyanna was guarding Lady Cersei, keeping the cutthroats back but also preventing the direwolf from aiding Lord Stark. Jon's growl seemed like a signal as Ghost and Nymeria erupted from the tree line. While neither direwolf had yet to reach the terrifying proportions of their mother, they were large enough to each remove one of the cutthroats.
The sudden appearance of the wolves threw the ranks of the cutthroats into a panic.
(Earlier)
Cersei entered the godswood with her two guards. The men waited patiently as she knelt before the sapling. She felt rather ridiculous praying to such an unimpressive tree, not even a face to focus on. It was expected of her to spend the morning here in communion with her gods until she faced her former husband and his small council. She'd admit her guilt before the small council and Lord Stark as the highest authority of the followers of the Old Gods would hand down her punishment.
Her death was not in the cards. It had irked Robert that both Jaime and she had escaped immediate execution. Truthfully had the Wall not been an option Jaime would have lost his head at Winterfell. Instead, he'd garnered a reprieve and would now die of either frostbite or fall fighting the Others.
Of what Cersei knew of First Men's punishments for women, there were not many that would apply to her crimes. There wasn't a rune for adultery, Tywin had permitted branding, and Ned informed her the range of her crimes would warrant several. Murderer, seductress, and bad faith. The last one alone was three separate runes unless he requisitioned a single branding iron made with both runes.
Sounds of footsteps behind her signaled people approaching, the identity of which was answered by her guards' greetings, "Good morrow Lord Stark."
"Morning lads," Ned approached the tree and knelt a respectful distance from her. He'd drawn Ice and had the sword standing before him as he bowed his head, pressing his brow to the cross guard. The was no greeting for her, nor would she expect one.
A few minutes later the sound of more people approaching drew her attention when they caused the direwolf pacing nearby to snarl, "Damn it Blunt, you said it just be her and a couple guards. Not a fucking mutant wolf."
"That ain't a mutant Lemy, that's one of those direwolves that follow them Starks all about," Another man informed his comrade.
Standing Lord Stark looked to the intruders, "What is the meaning of this Ser Blunt, why have you brought these men here?"
"No business of your Stark," Ser Boros Blunt grunted, "hand over the bitch queen and we all walk away peaceful like."
The four Stark guards present drew an assortment of swords, axes, maces, and hammers. Ned stepped to block them from her, "Who sent you? Tywin, the Faith?"
"Does it matter," one of the cutthroats following Blunt barked, "we got you outnumbered." Cersei could see ten men had accompanied Ser Blunt.
Boros glared the man to silence, "Do you think I actually want to go to the Wall? I never wanted to join the kingsguard, my brother put my name forward after the damned Rebellion to make nice with Robert. He wanted to save face after I got dressed down by that stupid mystery knight at Harrenhall."
Ned's voice went cold, "You were one of the knights defeated by the Knight of the Laughing Tree?"
Boros scoffed, "Damn sod telling me to teach my feckless squire honor. The only reason I took the little shit on was to appease my father. Shit was my cousin, my uncle's bastard he got on his wife's handmaid."
"You should have taken the lesson my late sister gave you to heart Ser," Ned brought Ice into a defensive position, "This godswood has yet to be christened, I thank you for offering yourselves."
"Is he barmy?" one of the cutthroats snorted, "There are five of them, a wolf, and a woman."
Cersei watched as Ned engaged Ser Boros as his direwolf moved to shield her, the former kingsguard may have been the least skilled of his brothers, but he wasn't completely useless with the sword. His hired goons though were only armed with a mix of daggers, clubs, and a couple maces. Their skills were also nothing compared to the hardened training of the Northmen.
While not well versed in martial tactics, she'd spent several turns of the moon with little more than watching the training yard of Winterfell. Numbers did not matter when men moved as one against a force of uncoordinated ruffians. To her surprise, mere moments after Ned and Boros crossed swords, two more of the Stark direwolves appeared, each tearing into one of the hired cutthroats.
Shortly after the two wolves, Prince Aegon and Jon appeared. The new wolves had caused panic in the ruffians, so they were not ready. Aegon engaged one thug who barely had time to block castle forged steal with a rusty dirk, his shoddy parry left him open and Aegon's second strike split the mercenary across the stomach.
Jon was not to be outdone by his brother dodging a wild swing of a mace. The thug had overextended and Jon's sword took the man's arm at the elbow joint, the resulting scream was cut short by the pommel of Jon's sword making contact with the man's temple.
The princelings had not come alone, as Arys Oakheart emerged from the trees. His sword blocked a mercenary's swing at one of the Northmen that would have been fatal. He pushed the attack back giving an opening for his longsword to open the man from sternum to navel.
With the tables so obviously turned the remaining cutthroats made to run, but another felt the bite of the two younger direwolves. The remaining four thugs were swiftly disposed of by their Northern opponents. Cersei returned her focus to Ned and Ser Boros to see the Crownlands knight realize he'd lost.
Changing the angle of his strike, Ned brought Ice's Valerian Steel blade down on Boros's sword cleaving it in half. The point of Ice's blade opened a gash in the Crownlander's face. Backpedaling the knight fell, landing before the weirwood tree. Ned's ancestral sword pointed at the man's throat, "Who sent you?"
Boros spat, "No one, I was going to sell her to Lord Tywin. Figured he would pay enough for me to live comfortably in Essos, if not him the Faith has a hard-on for her. They'd pay a ransom to have her turned over to them."
"You didn't do this alone," Ned's eyes narrowed as the others started gathering around after checking their opponents were no longer a threat, "How did you get these men into the castle?"
Bowing his head Boros began speaking, "There's an old man, fishes just below the castle. He's one of Varys' guys. He doesn't speak but he knows his way through Old Maegor's hidden passages." He looked to Cersei, "She found out about him a couple years ago. Had me make contact, just in case she and the kids needed a quick escape."
"A man speaks truthfully," Cersei turned towards the unfamiliar voice with a Lorathi accent. A man stood shielding Arya Stark. The hair on his head was red on one side and white on the other. While the man appeared unarmed, there was air about him that spoke of danger.
Lord Stark glared at the man, "You."
"While this man is unfamiliar with the Magnar of Winter," the man bowed, "he has been warned you would know him by this face. This face's name is Jaquen H'ghar, this man's life is tied to the girl. The Many-Faced god demands it so."
"A Faceless Man?" Arys huffed, "Lord Stark if I'd known."
Ned shook his head, "He just said his life is bound to Arya, he means her no harm." Lord Stark turned back to Boros, "As for you, I think your friends have provided enough blood to attract the gods' attention to this place. Let's see how merciful Robert is feeling this morning."
As Ned motioned to two of the guards to grab Boros, Cersei noticed Jaquen turn to Arya, "A man believes it would be kinder for a girl to give him the foolish knight's name."
Notes:
Some notes...
- Quaithe -
Probably going to be a bit out of character, but trying to separate her from the other Shadowbinder in the story.
- Pyat Pree -
Yeah, don't trust his apparent helpfulness (It's the Undying after all)
- Red Priests -
All of them in general are a bit out of character. R'hllor realized things are getting real and causing divisiveness would cause more harm than good.
- Boros Blunt -
You didn't really think a cowardly second rate knight like Blunt would willingly go to the Wall did you?
