Chapter 9: The Princess in the Tower

A coiling black snake biting at a man's heel.

And a dragon biting its own tail.

Those were the symbols of her captors, Aryon and Cryston.

Assigned as her escort indeed.

She heard the fighting outside.

When she'd inquired, Aryon had tried to dismiss it as simply another fight.

But the princess was no fool, those were true terrors occurring outside the walls of the Maiden Vault. That was no simple fight.

They knew this was coming. That was clear.

'I hope Balerion is safe.' Rhaenys could only hope, her thoughts on her own little cat wandering somewhere around the Red Keep. They wouldn't dare hurt Aegon, after all.

Rhaenys had studied their symbols as they had confined her to the Maiden Vault. Eyes darting quickly over every detail upon their persons. House Wyl and house Toland. They were never known for being the most committed to the Targaryens, rather the opposite.

Had Gerold truly chosen for them to guard her? Rhaenys was beginning to doubt that, and Aryon's smug smile only furthered that suspicion.

She had little wonder for why they had chosen to restrain her. What could this all be for but to satisfy their hatred for the Lannisters? After Raymond and Kennett's fight in the yard, it was no surprise.

But this was greater than any petty squabble between men. This was a true breach of the king's peace, outlawry. If not outright war.

Her captors weren't particularly forthcoming when Rhaenys asked about her brother Aegon. They didn't know what had become of their king. They didn't have him.

And soon the fiction of her their being guardians was dropped, as Rhaenys wasn't alone.

More Dornishmen brought in more captives.

Here was the squire and hostage, the tall and strong Renly Baratheon. He was bound and sporting a dozen cuts and bruises, looking quite bitter that he had lost. There was the fiery hair of Edmure Tully, quick friend of any of the young men of the castle, and a valuable hostage of note. A few notables from the guard followed, but not near so many.

A battle had been fought, and they had lost.

But then came others, ones who shouldn't have been taken, had this been the little dispute Wyl claimed it to be. Darry's family, Lucion's. Women and children of the court.

Soon even Rhaenys' own little aunt, Daenerys, was brought into their prison.

"Are you alright, Dany?"

Dany ran up to hug her kin. "Oh, Rhaenys! It's horrible, they're murdering everyone!"

"Still your tongue, child!" Cryston Toland said.

"The princess has the right of it." One her fellow prisoners said, an old man in torn and dirty finery. Rhaenys didn't recognize them. "You're killers and thieves now."

Cryston sauntered over to the man and struck him across the face. The old man lost two teeth, and said no more.

Rhaenys' eyes were wide, and her breath came quickly. She held Dany tight.

"And this is what they've made of themselves." Came a low voice by Rhaenys. Quiet enough that their guards might not hear, or care to bother them. His hands were bound just as the other men taken prisoner. "It's a sin and a shame to turn on one's countrymen like this."

"Theoden. They took you as well?" Rhaenys started at the realization of who the man was. "But you are a Dornishman!"

"Shh, not so loud, princess. I'd rather not receive a fist to my face if I can avoid it." Theoden whispered quickly, before a wry smile sprouted upon his face. "But aye, though my friends seem to have forgotten it."

"Shouldn't you be with them?" Rhaenys said, forgetting herself. She looked down. "I-, pardon my words, ser. I did not mean to offend."

"Do not fear, my princess. It was a fair conclusion." Theoden looked around the room. "Our noble Ser Barristan came to the same suspicion, and I do not blame him for it. Not with the king's safety at stake."

"Is Aegon…? Did they-"

"I do not know." Theoden shook his head. "Ser Barristan left me bound in the library. But from what I could hear, he's given them quite the chase through the keep."

"Do you… do you think we'll be safe? What will become of us?"

"Just keep your head down and do as they say." Theoden whispered, eyeing one of the guards. "They'll not want to hurt you. I expect they'll need a greater patron, otherwise this scheme of theirs is doomed. If they count the rest of the Small Council in their number, then perhaps…"

A doorway burst open and a great shuffling of feet came down the large hall.

"You don't have the king."

"We don't have the king, Lord Taubert." That sounded like Daemon. What was Aegon's kingsguard doing as part of this?

Ser Aryon greeted the White Cloak as he drew upon him. "Lord Commander." A smile on his face as it was some great jape.

Ser Daemon acknowledged him with a nod.

'Lord Commander?' Rhaenys thought. 'That is not his title to wear.'

"This was ill done, ill done indeed. The king stands against you, and worse you've threatened the life of his brother! What possessed –"

"Silence yourself, you don't seem to understand the position you're in. Nor where you are now." A third voice joined the conversation.

Lord Taubert paused. "Am I to be your prisoner, then?"

"I would prefer your cooperation." Ser Daemon added.

"Cooperation? Once word gets out, you won't have the men to hold the castle. And if Tywin learns about this…"

They were coming upon Rhaenys now.

"I'm well aware of the price that comes with failure." The third man was Dornish as well, Rhaenys recognized him.

Aegon had spoken to him at the –, well, he had met with him. The man wore a sigil upon his raiment, a red cockatrice bearing a black snake in its beak. Gargalen.

"I-er, yes. Pardon my outburst. Your son, he… I'm sorry." Lord Taubert deflated.

"I don't need your sympathy. Only your support." Lord Gargalen spat. "With the word of the Master of Laws, we can force the Goldcloaks to stand down. Allow our riders into the city. And depose Lord Tywin."

"Without the king's leave, I shall not – cannot give it." Lord Taubert said. "It would be clear to all; they will name this treason."

"You craven f-", Gargalen halted as Daemon gripped his shoulder.

"We shall have the king soon enough."

"You do not speak with the king's voice, ser." Taubert said curtly. "No more than Gargalen speaks for the Prince of Dorne. You'll need more than a crown in your custody."

"Don't force the matter on this, Taubert." Gargalen gritted out. "I'd rather not do anything you'll regret."

"And I would not wish to be subject to your courtesy, my lord." Lord Taubert said quickly. "But this is a matter of the realm. There is a way however."

"And that is?" Ser Daemon pressed.

"If the king's own uncle, the Prince of Dorne, should lend his support… Well then, none could argue it not appropriate for him to assume the regency."

Daemon almost seemed to laugh at that, giving the Lord of Vaith a look of distaste.

"Yes, that is why we are here." Ser Daemon said that as if it was obvious. He turned his head about the room, before his gaze landed on Rhaenys herself.

She froze.

"We shall beseech Prince Doran to come to his family's aid. A letter from the princess should provide him more than enough righteous motive."

They had come for her.

Rhaenys soon found herself in the rookery, a tall stone tower rising up from the Grand Maester's chambers. It was growing late, and the soft glow of candlelight struggled in the looming darkness of the tower.

Ser Daemon had assembled men outside, and had set them to an attempt at seizing Maegor's Holdfast, and her brother Aegon with it. Even now, Rhaenys heard the echoes of the fighting outside these walls.

It was never silent here, in the rookery. A thousand birds destined for a thousand keeps perched chattering away with their fellow ravens. But even now the birds seemed muted, wary of what had occurred here. Perhaps they could sense it, could tell the what the sounds of fighting meant.

In safer, freer days these chambers would be tended by a host of maesters and assistants serving under Grand Maester Pycelle. The tower had long since been cleared of its people, however. Most likely it was the first place the plotters had seized, so as to prevent word of their treason from making it out of the castle.

They sat her at a table with pen and ink, though Rhaenys found herself far from eager to begin.

"Write." Ser Aryon demanded, laying out a script for her to follow.

"But I –," Rhaenys could not think of how to deny them, "n-no. I can't."

"You will write, or we shall make you." Aryon said, an icy tilt to his voice.

They wanted her to pen a message to her dear uncle. Rhaenys could feel the watchful eyes of her minders, Ser Cryston and Ser Aryon, steadily gazing upon her. They were growing restless at her hesitation.

"You won't hurt me." Rhaenys said petulantly. "You can't."

"Prince Doran's niece? The sister of our beloved King Aegon? No, Ser Daemon would never allow it." Rhaenys allowed herself some hope, but a mocking grin was already sprouting upon Aryon's face. "But we may find someone to take your place in punishment. Princess Daenerys perhaps."

Rhaenys gasped. "You wouldn't dare!"

"Royal she may be, but in this moment? Well, Ser Daemon is like to overlook such a transgression. A good whipping should provide appropriate incentive for you to behave." Aryon's grin was gone now. "Shall I have Ser Cryston fetch her for us. If you lack the care for your dear little aunt…"

"No!" Rhaenys said quickly, all but shouting. "Please, I –, I'll do it."

"Then write." Aryon forced the pen into her hand, and closed her fingers around it.

And so Rhaenys began to write the words Aryon dictated to her.

She was making a desperate call for help against the vile treachery of the Lannisters. Each word written to her uncle was hollow and each drop of ink felt false. The letter seemed as though it was a betrayal, but her captors had demanded it of her, and they had certainly not been wary of violence upon their captives.

Rhaenys could not help but consider how Cryston had struck the old man who spoke out, how Lord Gargalen had threatened the Master of Laws. And now they were prepared to whip Daenerys in her place. Even the royal family were not to be safe from these men. If circumstances grew worse, would they consider Rhaenys herself above their violence?

Soon the letter was written, and sand sprinkled over the ink to dry.

Ser Aryon looked over it with a critical eye, angling it to catch the light of the table's candle.

Dubbing it satisfactory, Ser Aryon rolled up the letter and retrieved the raven for Sunspear, home of the Martells. In short order, the message was secured to its carrier. The bird flew, and the message was sent.

"Now then, best be getting you back to the Maide-" Aryon stopped.

A gurgling, choking sound sputtered from behind Rhaenys.

She turned.

Ser Cryston was slumping to the floor, a terrible gash splitting his throat.

Ser Arthur Dayne stood over him, a bloody knife in his hand. He wasn't wearing his shining armor.

"Dayne, you –," Aryon fumbled in his shock.

He drew his sword, but Arthur was already advancing upon him.

The traitor tried to shout, but soon it was all he could do to defend himself.

Arthur Dayne was a flurry of motion, Dawn flashing through the air.

In quick succession Cryston's blade was deflected out of his guard and thrown from his hand!

And then Aryon himself was falling to the ground.

Dead.

The blood was still unsettling, seeming to catch and warp in the flickering light.

But in an odd fashion, Rhaenys found Cryston and Aryon's deaths less disturbing.

That was a thought Rhaenys found even more strange.

"My princess, are you well." Ser Arthur came to her. His hands settled on her shoulders, brushed hair from her face, making sure she was unharmed. "Rhaenys?"

Rhaenys was slow to collect herself.

Her eyes lingered upon Aryon.

Blood had further stained the image of Baelor's foot. The bite of the snake joined with the bite of a blade.

"Rhaenys?" Arthur Dayne repeated gently.

"I'm… I'm fine, Ser Arthur." Rhaenys said finally, but the words didn't ring true.

He nodded, but didn't seem to believe her. "Good, that's good."

She took in the man before her, wearing dark and common clothes, in quite the contrast of the bright whites he most often wore. Mail armor peaked out from underneath the sleeves and collar.

A small splash of blood blended into his clothes, hard to distinguish in the dark.

Ser Arthur stood, looked past her, and paced along the rows of ravens. Searching.

Finding the birds he sought, he attached the messages to them, and more ravens flew.

"Are those…?" Rhaenys trailed off, not quite finding it within herself to ask.

"Come with me Rhaenys, I'm getting you out of here." He held out his hand for her.

Rhaenys took it, and he gently guided he to the door. Stopping only to pick up a bundle of rope he had left upon the floor. Slinging it over his shoulder, they left the rookery behind.

And then they were rushing down the steps of the tower.

They happened across a few more guards Arthur had encountered on his way into the tower.

Rhaenys tried not to look upon them for long.

She had thought the halls of the castle so very vacant when the war had begun and so many left the keep to join the fighting or to make for their own homes. Now however, after the Dornishmen had killed or captured those who remained and spirited them away to some dungeon or chamber to be out of the way? Now the halls were truly vacant in a way Rhaenys had never before experienced.

They had come to the tower's exit and peered hesitantly out into the inner ward. Maegor's Holdfast lay before them, and Ser Daemon's men were launching another attack upon it.

The fortress was surrounded, and flanked by watchers. Men attempted to scale the walls, risking falling into the moat of spikes, which many did.

Rhaenys could see no way for them to join her brother in the relative safety of the old holdfast.

And if they had, would they be safe for long?

"This way, we can't stay here." Ser Arthur whispered. "Keep quiet now."

He ushered Rhaenys along the back walls of the castle, scampering between what little cover they could find, hoping desperately that they would not be discovered in the dark.

Rhaenys heard, but could not see, the whispering hiss of arrows being loosed from the walls above.

At times she feared some man from the holdfast might mistake her and Barristan for the besiegers, and send death down upon them.

As they circled the keep, a man caught sight of them.

"Hey! Who goes –"

But he was suddenly cut off when an arrow pierced his throat.

Rhaenys was feared discovery, but Arthur Dayne dragged her through a passage into the godswood. And fortunately, none followed them.

The Red Keep's godswood was an acre of forest, thankfully even darker under the canopy of trees.

The big oak heart tree lay in a clearing as a space of honor. Though in the dark there was an almost ominous air surrounding it. Its old limbs covered by twisting and overgrown vines.

"This way, princess." Ser Arthur held her hand and guided her through the small wood.

"Where are we going?" Rhaenys asked. She tried to keep her voice hushed, but curiosity was still getting the best of her. "If we cannot join my brother in the holdfast then… where can we go?"

"Daemon will have pulled men from the walls for his attack." Arthur said simply. "Which means there may be an opening for us to escape."

They continued onwards, as the godswood transitioned into the gardens.

The sculptures looked so much more eerie, wreathed in the darkness as they were. A strange, frightening feeling being out here, without the usual torchlight to illuminate the grounds.

Footsteps and torchlight approached them, and Ser Arthur dragged her quietly behind a hedge.

She hugged the dirt, trying to blend into the earth as much as possible.

They paused in their hiding place as a patrol marched towards them.

Ser Arthur held her there for a moment, the garden silent but for the footsteps and clanking of armor.

"I don't like it." Came a bitter voice. "The Watch are already asking questions, and the king-"

"You best not let Lord Gargalen hear your misgivings." Said a second.

"You won't tell him, will you? I certainly won't." Said the first man. There was a pause before he continued. "But this business with the king? Kicking out the Lannisters is all well and good, but seizing Queen Elia's children? The king should be with us."

The voices began to fade as they passed.

"Misled by poor counsel the king is." The second man continued. "Ser Daemon will get the child soon enough, and this will all be over."

"I hope so…"

And then the voices were gone as they drew ever further away.

Yet still Arthur waited a moment.

"Arth-"

"Shh." He shushed her.

He listened intently, so Rhaenys did too.

Could there perhaps be someone else to follow those patrolmen?

When finally Ser Arthur was satisfied that none would discover them, he pulled her back to her feet.

Silently they continued their journey, soon exiting the gardens. Rhaenys almost tripped, stumbling over a fallen statue.

They made their way past the keep housing the throne room, dashing between crates and barrels that had once been destined for the kitchens.

They had to keep an eye on a few men keeping watch on the walls, and had to pause once when another patrol drew by.

But they soon came upon the outer courtyard, and the great gatehouse which barred their way. From their little hiding space, they took in the scene. There were some men at the gate, most likely more inside. The heavy bronze gate and the portcullises were not contraptions a single man and a girl could open with any speed.

"We could try the postern gates." Ser Arthur muttered quietly more to himself than Rhaenys. "But it will be locked. And there's no guarantee one of those guards has the key. Start a fight, and the alarm will be raised."

A commotion seemed to stir across the yard. Several of the guards entered the gatehouse, and soon appeared atop the wall. Something was distracting them from the other side of the gate.

Those left behind seemed more concerned with their conversation than keeping watch.

"See those stairs there?" Ser Arthur pointed across the yard. "We climb those up the wall, I secure this rope, and then we climb down and make our way into the city. Understand?"

"Yes, ser." Rhaenys said.

"Walk slowly now, try not to make much noise, hug the wall as long as you can." Ser Arthur continued. "If anyone spots us, we'll be running."

Rhaenys hoped their luck held out.

Ser Arthur eyed the men guarding the gate, waiting until they were speaking with each other, and no longer scanning the yard.

"Now."

With that hissed word they began their creeping walk across the yard.

Hugging the wall as they had become accustomed to in hopes of avoiding the gaze of anyone that may chance to look inward to the castle yard.

A third of the way there, and they had passed unnoticed.

Half way there.

Almost.

"Hey! Stop there!"

They began their run.

"Guards! The wall! They're making for the wall!"

Just as they reached the stairs an arrow crashed into the wall next to Rhaenys.

The men guarding the gate were rushing towards them.

Rhaenys scrambled up the stairs, half dragged by Arthur Dayne.

"What's this about, Tryston?" Came a shout from the other side of the wall.

Two men were waiting for them at the head of the stairs, swords drawn.

But so was Dawn.

Arthur deflected the first two strikes.

With a counter, one of the men was knocked from the wall.

The other traitor followed up his attack while Arthur was overextended however.

And his blade bit into Arthur's side, tearing through his clothes.

Only to be caught on Dayne's shirt of mail underneath.

Arthur grabbed the man, and threw him into the men stomping up the stairs after them.

He scrambled with what little time they had, desperately trying to secure the rope to a crenelation.

A troop of men were rushing from the gatehouse and were almost upon them.

Those men following them from the stairs reached the top.

With a mighty tug, Arthur tightened the rope.

The guards were upon them now, grabbing at them, pulling at Rhaenys.

Arthur grabbed her.

Punching and pulling men off her.

Dayne pulled her close and held on tight.

Breaking free from their attackers, he leapt from the wall.

Rhaenys' stomach lifted with the terrifying sensation of falling.

Until it suddenly dropped as the rope in Arthur's hand pulled taut.

Then the rope slipped.

And they were truly falling.

With a horrifying crack, they hit the ground.

And there's chapter 9, leaving you guys off with a fun little cliff hanger to chew on. Although, hanging isn't quite the problem, heh! Not a bad chapter, gave us a little more development for the Dornish plotters and their schemes. Stressed that not all the Dornishmen are part of the coup. And left off with a little action that pulls us in a separate direction from the siege of Maegor's Holdfast.

This is our second Rhaenys chapter, too! I enjoyed writing this, quite liked the idea of her and Arthur's little escapade through the castle and am glad to finally get around to it.

But me breaking from the three-word chapter title scheme is truly the greatest of innovations. That's what everyone will really be talking about in the coming years. Is the world truly ready for such a departure from norms? Only time will tell.

Anyway, enough joking around from me. Hope you all enjoy the chapter, and the release of House of the Dragon's 3rd episode for their second season tonight!