Titus

"Before I left, Lord Walder invited me to a feast he was throwing! The nerve of that man. As if I was going to miss this council for half-cooked lamb at the Twins?"

The last time Titus had seen Lord Gilbert Tully, he'd been playing . Now he was a man in his prime, a veteran of the Third Blackfyre Rebellion, with a son who was himself a man grown at seventeen years of age.

Sitting beside Titus, Jena frowned. "Was there a reason for the feast?"

"Oh, it was in honour of his firstborn son," Gilbert answered. "Steffon, I think he's called?" He wiped a hunk of rye bread over his plate to catch some of the bacon grease.

"A fine reason to celebrate," Jena observed quietly. Titus felt a wave of pity for his sister.

"All fine and good for him, but this is a duty to the realm. He'll understand; any man would. Besides, I'll make it up to him another time. He's sure to have another child."

Each day, two of the Lords Paramount and their immediate families were to sit with the Targaryens at the high table. Today, it was the turn of Gilbert Tully and Lord Jasper Arryn, who sat opposite Titus with his wife, Lady Kella, a serious-looking boy called Jon, and a sweet-faced girl called Alys.

"Our youngest is at Longbow Hall," Jasper explained. "Ronnel is being fostered in Lord Redfort's household."

Titus noticed how Kella's face fell whilst her husband spoke of her second son's fostering. "Has he been gone long?"

"Half a year now," Jasper answered. "It will be good for him to become better acquainted with his family's bannermen. And in troubling times, it is wise to strengthen our vassals' loyalty."

The Valeman was being discreet, but Titus could well understand his meaning. The Blackfyre rebellions had torn the Seven Kingdoms apart, and even after the third of these was put down, there still remained plenty of Blackfyre sympathies, including amongst those lords who'd accompanied the Arryns to King's Landing.

"I understand," Titus answered. "I was myself fostered as a boy."

"Were you?" Jasper seemed pleased, as if Titus was validating his own decision to foster young Ronnel.

"Indeed. I was sent to Horn Hill on the advice of my father's master-at-arms."

There was a time when the very thought of Lomas Tarly would have provoked Titus' wrath. The man had been a sadistic tormenter of boys, believing it essential to instill proper manhood. Titus had defied him fiercely, refusing to allow any punishment to break him. Many years later, Titus had avenged those years of torture by slaying Lomas during the First Blackfyre Rebellion.

As Titus spoke with the Arryns, Jena had also begun listening. She had a wary look on her face, clearly wondering how much Titus was willing to reveal about his disastrous fostering.

"The master-at-arms?" Lady Kella Arryn was frowning. "Why did he suggest such a thing?"

"He thought I lacked discipline," Titus explained tactfully.

"I suppose that fostering did you a world of good, then?" Jasper urged, even as his eyes flickered towards his wife. On his other side, Jon Arryn was also listening to Titus.

Titus was tempted to deliver the blunt truth, but something in the boy's expression gave him pause. Or perhaps it was the silent plea Jena gave him as she regarded her older brother. Or it may have been something within Titus himself as he thought back on those years with the wisdom he'd acquired from the high priest Babatunde in the Temple of Love.

"Yes and no," Titus answered the Valeman. "I was miserable for much of my time there. Lord Tarly was a hard man, and his master-at-arms was a monster who did unspeakable things to one of the boys in his care."

Kella's face paled as she sat back in her seat. Jasper was alarmed at the admission. "Was he punished?"

"Aye," Titus answered. "He certainly was." He suddenly waved his hand, as if he were sweeping that ill memory out of the air. "But besides that, there was a lot of good that came out of my fostering. It was where I met the best friends that I ever had in my life."

"Just so," Jena interjected. She turned to the Arryns. "One of them went on to serve the Kingsguard. Willem Wylde was one of the finest knights I ever knew."

"Willem Wylde?" Jasper exclaimed. He turned back to Titus. "You were friends with that man?"

"Aye," Titus answered, unable to repress the nostalgic sadness which was welling up within him. "He was closer to me than mine own brothers. So were Baelon Massey, Maegor Toyne, and Orys Trant."

It had once torn him apart to think of how those friendships had ended in tragedy. Maegor had betrayed him by plotting to topple the Targaryens, and he had betrayed Maegor in return by uncovering the plot and helping to defeat it. Maegor had died screaming, tortured to death by Brynden Rivers.

Orys Trant had died next, once again at Brynden Rivers' command. Titus had mocked Rivers whilst eating and drinking with his old friend, and Orys had confessed his affair with Shiera Seastar. For both these things, Orys had been cruelly put to death, with his head placed on a spike for Titus to discover.

Baelon Massey had fared better, fighting alongside Titus in the north and south of Westeros, concluding with the Battle of the Redgrass Field. After Titus was made Master of Laws, Baelon had become the captain of his guard for ten years. They had taken part in the Vulture Hunt together, where Baelon died fighting against the Vulture King's army.

Willem Wylde had risen further than any of them, winning the tourney which Maegor Toyne had nearly overthrown and earning the white cloak which Quentyn Ball had so desperately coveted. He'd served faithfully for more than thirty years, helping to put down all three of the Blackfyre rebellions. He'd fought alongside Titus at the Redgrass Field, he'd gone to Whitewalls to arrest Daemon the Younger, and even in his old age, he'd fought against Haegon as the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Two years later, crippled by old wounds and old age, he had gone to his long deserved rest. To Titus' deep regret, he had not been able to say goodbye to his dear friend, who had once saved Titus' life when he was most determined to throw it away.

"Truthfully," Titus told the Arryns, "I could never regret my fostering at Horn Hill. There was great ill done, but it saved my life to meet those men."

A reluctant acceptance was on Kella's face as she looked back to her meal. Young Jon did the same, though his countenance was more thoughtful than his mother's. Jasper, his ebullience restored, was about to speak again when the herald announced that the hall must be prepared for the Great Council.

"So be it," Jena remarked dryly as she arose with the help of her cane. "I'd best be on my way so that you boys can debate amongst yourselves in peace."

"Will you not attend?" Titus arose with her. "I will have you join me as my guest."

"What good will that do?" Jena muttered as they walked away from the table.

"Why would you ever want us boys to debate in peace?" Titus urged. "Since when did my little sister leave a council chamber so meekly?"

Jena smiled in spite of herself. "Very well."

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"The proper course is clear," Lord Philip Waynwood declared hoarsely. "Prince Maegor is the rightful heir!"

Titus sighed. It was the fourth time that Waynwood had said a variation of those words in the last hour alone. If repetition was the deciding factor, Waynwood would carry the day.

Before Waynwood, it had been Princess Daenora Targaryen who spoke on behalf of her son. She was not of many words, however, and she seemed unused to addressing such a multitude that had surrounded her. Waynwood, however, had been only too willing to take up the cause when she sat back down.

Titus was confused by the zeal of Waynwood's support for Aerion's infant son, until Waynwood spoke of his eldest son. Rogar had reputedly been a loyal squire to Prince Aerion on Dragonstone.

"The poor boy died screaming," Jena whispered to her brother at one point during one of Waynwood's pauses for breath. "He died trying to save Aerion from his own stupidity."

Waynwood had been speaking throughout the morning in defense of Maegor, forcing himself to carry on with renewed zeal as the nobles failed to echo his sentiments.

"I pity him," Sadog admitted softly in Titus' other ear.

Titus nodded, feeling wretched as he beheld the bereaved father's final throes to persuade the council with his words. Why must we allow this farce to continue?

He turned to Brynden Rivers, who watched impassively as his hands were linked beneath his nose. Unlike with Vaella, he did not seem interested in making an end of this fruitless bid for Maegor's rights. Does he support Maegor?

It was understandable to Titus. Brynden would doubtless be the favoured choice to rule as Hand of the King and Protector of the Realm. He may not wish to crown himself king, Titus mused, or he may decide that Maegor is the second best choice.

Finally, when he had seemingly exhausted himself, the wiry Valeman sat down with a hoarse sigh which almost sounded like a sob.

After an awkward silence following that display of emotion, Lord Gerold Lannister arose from his own seat. He spoke courteously, with no small measure of sympathy.

"Lord Waynwood speaks well," the lion lord declared, waving a magnanimous arm towards the man. "He speaks as a proud father would speak of a worthy son. He speaks through a pain which I understand all too well. If His Grace Prince Aerion was present, he would have praised your passion and your devotion, my lord."

It was handsomely said, and Titus was swept up in admiration for the westerman. He thought of how Gerold Lannister had lost his own heir at Starpike; many others must have thought the same, for they rapidly arose and applauded Gerold's words. Titus was one of them, whilst Sadog remained seated as he clapped. It was only when Titus sat down again that he saw Jena was unmoved.

"Fool," she whispered. "You would applaud such mockery, brother?"

"Mockery?" Titus was astonished. "What do you mean?"

"Aerion never praised anyone but himself," Jena declared in a harsh whisper. "You never knew him as I did, or Gerold for that matter. He has no wish to see Maegor become king, and now that he has won the court's sympathy, they will heed him."

She was soon proven correct. Gerold Lannister held up his hands to halt the applause, then addressed his audience with yet more honeyed words.

"Indeed, if Prince Aerion were here today, I'm sure that no man would dispute his worthiness to the Iron Throne. But the gods elected otherwise, and now he is surely in their mighty company, with his faithful squire at his side!"

More applause rang out, but Titus did not join in. He was more alert to Gerold's game; it was a gradual undermining of Waynwood's cause whilst taking every measure to praise him and Rogar. "Gerold the Golden," he muttered to himself.

Jena overheard him, for she leaned forward again and whispered anew. "Didn't you know? He was called that for his golden tongue."

They listened in stony silence to Gerold when he resumed his speech.

"We find ourselves in uncertain times. The Blackfyres lick their wounds, but their spies remain throughout the realm. A strong king is needed to guide us, to lead us, to rule us. Prince Aerion was such a man, aye, and Maegor may very well walk in his father's footsteps when he is a man grown."

He allowed a moment of silence before resuming. "But at this time, Maegor is but a babe in his mother's arms. He will not come into his own rule for many years yet. It will fall to regents and protectors to rule in his stead. There is precedence for this. I assume that I need to remind nobody of Aegon the Dragonbane?"

Titus almost felt an urge to shake his head, as if Gerold had personally asked him the question. He still recalled his lessons on Aegon III and his unstable reign.

Despite that, Gerold proceeded to explain his meaning anyway. "When Aegon III was crowned king, he was a boy of ten, in the aftermath of a terrible war. Greedy men and ambitious foreigners beset his household, nearly resulting in the extirpation of House Targaryen. King Aegon himself was broken by the war which had taken nearly all his family, and it haunted his reign until his too-early demise."

Lord Lannister suddenly raised his hands, as if in response to objections. "I understand that we are not in the same situation, but I see too many parallels to keep these words to myself. We, too, have survived a dreadful war. Our eastern shores are still scarred from Haegon Blackfyre's invasions. Many of us lost kin to those battles, and there may well be another war looming on the horizon. We need a king who can unite the realm as Maekar did, as Baelor would have done." He'd slowly been rotating as he spoke, careful to turn his eyes to every single table that surrounded him. When he spoke the last few words, Titus noticed that he was looking at the table where Prince Aegon sat, with Ser Duncan of the Kingsguard standing over him.

"And Maegor, I regret," Gerold concluded, "has yet to become that man." He cast an apologetic glance towards Princess Daenora, who glared at him with unabashed disgust.

Very well played, Titus thought ruefully. Aegon should count himself fortunate to have such a champion as Lord Gerold.

A cynical thought occurred to him as he looked from Gerold Lannister to Philip Waynwood. Both these men had the most to gain if Maegor or Aegon were chosen as the next rulers, and both were grieving sons who died in these princes' service. How much of this passion is sincere, and how much is simply their struggle to salvage something from their terrible loss? He shuddered as he thought of Jena, sitting beside him.

No sooner had Gerold sat down than Lord Rycherd Tyrell stepped into the circle. "My mind tends the same way as Lord Gerold," he announced. "A man must sit the Iron Throne, and Maegor is not even a boy. We cannot afford to wait for him to acquire strength of arms. And more importantly," he emphasised, "we cannot wait for Maegor to acquire the wisdom to rule well."

Men voiced their agreement, but Titus saw a change come over Lord Gerold. He looked upon Rycherd with civility, but there was no friendliness in his countenance.

Titus wondered why that was, until Lord Tyrell spoke again.

"Wisdom is only part of what makes a good king. We must also have a devout king, guided by the principles bequeathed to us by the gods! For it is their favour alone which has allowed us to endure as we have done. Will they look favourably upon a king who bears such a cursed name as one so cruel that the Iron Throne itself slew him?"

Murmurs erupted all across the Great Hall. That was a dangerous argument to make, but an effective one nonetheless. Titus also noted which candidate Tyrell was subtly pushing to the fore, and it certainly wasn't Aegon.

Once again, Aemon had shirked the council, presumably determined to avoid encouraging any bid for his kingship. Still, that hadn't stopped Lord Tyrell, and Titus could see that many other lords were favourable to this argument.

"This is absurd," Sadog whispered. "Aemon cannot become king."

Titus was less sure. He doubted very much that Lord Tyrell would take such a stand if there was no way to release Aemon from his vows. Reflexively, Titus turned to look at the High Septon, but the ancient man was utterly passive.

The arguments went back and forth from there, with one lord or other standing up and expressing subtle support for Aemon or Aegon. All of them, however, agreed that Maegor was an unfit candidate.

Titus wished that he could leave the Great Hall. He did not need to sit here and waste his time listening to the lords drag out a vote which should have been resolved immediately. However, he stayed in his chair and raised his hand to vote against Maegor.

Much to his surprise, Brynden Rivers voted against Maegor too. Titus could not be sure if this was simply his attempt to stay on the winning side, or whether he truly meant to put himself forward after all. He wished he could read Brynden's mind as easily as Brynden seemed to read other men.

It was a fruitless wish, but it burned like an ember within Titus as he, Sadog, and Jena finally made their way out of the Great Hall. The air was almost stiflingly warm, so that Titus nearly felt light-headed in his warm clothes.

"I am going to rest," Jena declared, even as she hobbled off towards Maegor's Holdfast.

Titus, meanwhile, walked outside with Sadog so they might get fresh air. The winter wind was almost delightful as they sat upon one of the stone benches. It had not snowed that day, thankfully, and the air itself seemed to be warmer than before.

"So," Titus asked Sadog, "which of the candidates does the Iron Bank favour?"

Sadog gave a hollow laugh. "That is an easy question to answer when there is only one viable candidate."

Titus scratched an old battle scar beneath his sleeve. "Methinks there is some plot to have Aemon renounce his vows."

"Foolish," Sadog declared. "The High Septon did not allow it."

"Nay, that's not it," Titus countered. "Jena was right to chastise me before, but I'm recalling how this game is played."

"The High Septon said nothing," Sadog reminded him.

"Exactly," Titus pointed out. "He could have put his foot down, but he did no such thing."

Sadog began to look disconcerted. "Well, Aemon's name was not directly mentioned."

"We understood what they meant," Titus replied. "Do you think the High Septon did not?"

"I don't know, Father," Sadog admitted. "This feels like a farce."

"Do you know what I noticed about those who supported Aemon?"

Sadog smiled wryly. "Are you about to tell me, or must I guess?"

Titus laughed as he ruffled his son's hair before he spoke again. "Lord Rayford Farring, Lord Milcar Blackmont, Lord Hugh Tarly, Lord Dain Caron, Lord Mortimer Swann. They all spoke passionately in favour of Aemon. All of them fought for the Blackfyres in the first rebellion."

A pensive expression came over Sadog's face. "You're saying they are trying to stall the proceedings?"

"Mayhaps," Titus guessed, "or mayhaps they are throwing their support behind the man who is least likely to support Brynden Rivers."

"It is a foolish endeavour, then," Sadog retorted.

"The High Septon would have no love for Rivers either," Titus suggested.

Sadog shrugged, but he said nothing for a time. Finally, he turned to Titus with a grimace. "I'm getting cold."

Titus wordlessly helped his son rise from the bench and then kept pace with him as they went back inside.

There was still some time before supper, so the two men made their way to the holdfast. Before they could do so, they ran into an ebullient Leroya.

"Cheers," she greeted them with a wide grin.

"What are you doing here?" Sadog asked suspiciously.

"Looking for you, brother," Leroya answered. "And you, Papa. I need the two of you to visit the ship at the hour of the ghosts, and no earlier than that."

Titus raised an eyebrow. "What are you up to this time?"

"You'll see," she teased. "I daresay I might have the solution to this whole bloody mess." With that, she sauntered off.

There was no sign of Leroya at supper, but she was not the only one missing. Miru, Matthias, and Jena had not come to the Great Hall, and remained absent for the entirety of the evening meal.

"Perhaps they're eating in the holdfast," Sadog suggested between mouthfuls of roasted salmon.

"No matter," Titus replied. "Either we'll find them or Leroya will."

Due to their proximity to the high tables of House Targaryen, Titus could see that someone else was missing from dinner. Grand Maester Piato normally sat with the rest of the small council, but he was nowhere to be seen.

"Strange," Titus mused. "Did the Grand Maester seem ill to you?"

"No," Sadog replied. "Mayhaps he isn't hungry?"

Titus thought back to the other absences, especially Leroya with her triumphant airs. A sense of unease and anticipation began to build in his stomach as he tried to focus on his food instead.

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After supper was concluded, Titus and Sadog went to find Jena, Miru, and Matthias. Instead, they only found Princess Kiera and her daughter, sitting together with five empty dinner plates stacked on the table.

"They went away," Kiera explained. "Something about Lord Royce of the Vale and his maester."

Titus was confused, but he did not wish to gallop off on some quest to find the others when Leroya was expecting them in less than an hour. Thus, he and Sadog made their way to the wheelhouses and took a slow journey down to the docks.

As always, the Black Bolt was anchored as dozens of Leroya's crew lounged about the deck. It seemed to Titus that they were gathered together in anticipation of something. Do they mean to sail away?

Xalonyay stood on guard, as did Baalun. Both greeted Titus when he and Sadog made their way up the gangplank.

"Leroya's expecting you in your cabin," Xalonyay explained to Titus.

"My thanks," Titus replied with a nod, even as he led his sons below deck.

It was just as Xalonyay said, but Leroya was not alone. Dressed in a begging brother's robes, Grand Maester Piato was hunched over the table, sitting on the edge of his chair.

"No, please," he urged Sadog, who gave an astonished bow nevertheless. Piato then clasped Titus' hand and shook it heartily. "Well met again, Lord Titus. And I apologise for this secrecy, truly I do."

"And you," Titus replied. Piato seemed especially nervous, whilst Leroya looked like she was repressing a smirk. Just as I thought…

"Thank you for indulging me," Piato muttered when all were seated. "There is a grave matter that I wish to speak to you about, concerning a most unexpected claimant."

Titus leaned forward "Who?"

"This one." The Grand Maester put a hand into the sleeve of his robe and pulled out a small roll of parchment. "This is not the original letter, to be clear. Lord Bloodraven had it burned."

Bemused, Titus took the proffered letter and held it close to one of the lit candles.

"Incredible," Titus exclaimed softly. He had to reread the letter twice before his eyes could accept the truth of what they were seeing. He couldn't recall which son of Daemon Blackfyre this was - or which grandson he might be, for that matter - but for this letter alone, he didn't doubt the man's bravery and nerve.

He passed the letter to Sadog, who gave a low whistle of surprise whilst reading.

"Well, if nothing else, he seems to be an eternal optimist," he quipped as he handed the letter to Baalun.

Titus turned back to the Grand Maester. "How did this copy come into being?"

"I wrote it myself," Piato answered. "I also kept a hold of the raven which brought Blackfyre's message. I suspected that Lord Bloodraven would be reluctant to have a Blackfyre before the great council. "

Yet you seem remarkably supportive of that outcome. Titus leaned back and folded his arms. "And who is Aenys Blackfyre to you?"

Piato hesitated, glancing about the room at first, then lowered his voice to a whisper. "I once knew Daemon Blackfyre, Lord Titus. I will not defend what he did, nor do I advocate for war. I only believe that we must have a king who will not tolerate Lord Bloodraven or Shiera Seastar."

"At what cost?" Titus frowned.

"That's unjust, Papa," Leroya interjected. "Why shouldn't Aenys Blackfyre have his chance with the council?"

"This is no time for recklessness, Leroya," Titus warned her. "Have I taught you nothing about House Blackfyre? The mere mention of their name before the council would amount to treason!"

Leroya frowned. "Is it treason to speak a man's name?"

"This council is led by the man who slew Aenys' father and elder brothers," Titus explained. "What do you think he will say to the notion of Aenys offering himself as a candidate for the throne?"

Leroya cocked her head to the side. "Then what are we doing here, Papa?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean to ask you why we are here in the first place," Leroya answered patiently.

"I came here for Jena's sake," Titus explained. "I came here to ensure that Brynden did not have his way." He sighed angrily at the smile threatening to appear on his daughter's face. "You are too bloody clever for your own good, do you know that?"

Leroya shrugged. "You supported Jena, you stood up for Vaella, and it failed. Mayhaps Aenys will succeed? Are there no more friends of Blackfyre in this whole realm?"

Titus opened his mouth to answer, but then he stopped. He thought back to his conversation with Jasper Arryn. He thought of the marchers, of Lord Farring, and Lord Blackmont. There are others, too. It may be that Aenys has a chance. Perhaps that's why Brynden did not answer his message…

Baalun chose that moment to interject. "If you truly want to humble Brynden Rivers, I'll wager that a Blackfyre would be only too pleased to do that work." He sounded as eager as Leroya, earning him a smile from her.

"That is not all we need to consider," Titus reminded his son. "Blind revenge will not help the realm. I do not want to instigate another civil war!"

"He doesn't want to either," Leroya replied, tapping Aenys' letter.

Sadog sighed. "Anyone can write whatever they wish in a letter, sister."

Leroya cocked her head to the side. "So he is a liar now? You know this to be true?"

Sadog seemed ready to speak, but Titus held up his hand. "Wait," he urged his son, then glanced at Leroya. "You're right," he admitted. "We don't know." Even as her grin widened, Titus held up his hand. "But then how shall we prove that he is what he says he is?"

"Let him prove it himself," Leroya insisted without hesitation. "Give him a chance to present his case."

"How? We cannot guarantee safe passage to him," Titus pointed out.

"The council could," Grand Maester Piato interjected. "If it is brought before them during a session, it will fall to a vote. And if they approve, he must be allowed to present his case. That is a precedent Lord Bloodraven cannot overturn. All it requires is that a lord brings his name before the council."

Of course… Titus' jaw was clenched as he met the Grand Maester's eyes. "It must be a lord?"

"I have no voice," Piato protested. "My seat on the council is subservient to the High Septon, and he will not support Aenys Blackfyre's rights. There are sympathetic lords, but they live in fear of Bloodraven's wrath."

"Perhaps I should too," Titus observed darkly.

"Come now, don't play the coward, Papa," Leroya teased, "you can't fool us."

"You mind yourself," Titus snapped at his daughter. "How many times did I warn you what sort of mess we're in? How many times have I explained what Brynden is willing to do?"

As soon as he lashed out, Titus felt remorse for his loss of temper. Since he'd first consulted with Babatunde, he could count on his hands how many times he'd shouted at his children or subjected them to his wrath. Now, even though they were all well into adulthood, they recoiled from his outburst, with Sadog and Baalun avoiding his gaze. Leroya initially recoiled at his harsh tone, but her surprise quickly gave way to stone-faced obstinacy.

"I remember what you said about him, Papa. I also remember stories of a brave man who never feared standing up to men like Brynden Rivers."

"And look what that achieved," Titus countered quietly. "He holds the Seven Kingdoms in his hand."

"All the more reason to wrest them from him," Leroya declared.

Titus was losing ground. Truthfully, he wanted Leroya and Piato to be right, but he was still unwilling to agree. "Why should I speak on behalf of a man whom I've never met? How can I vouch for him?"

"Fair enough," Leroya acquiesced. "Let's arrange a meeting. Aenys can sit with us and we will figure out if he is an honest man."

"And you think you can determine that, do you?" Titus asked her.

"I know I can," Leroya answered defiantly, "and so can you, Papa."

"How?" Sadog asked incredulously.

Leroya smiled thinly at her eldest brother. "I don't know how the Iron Bank determines trust, but in my circles, one learns quickly who is trustworthy and who isn't. Otherwise, you pay with your life."

"Even so," Titus protested, "how on earth will we find Aenys?"

"I can answer that."

All eyes turned back to the Grand Maester, who picked up the bundle which he'd set beside his chair. When Piato took the furs and unwrapped them, it revealed a raven cage. The bird which sat inside it was larger than the ravens in Westeros, and it seemed as though someone had glued a second beak on top of the first.

"I hid her away when he arrived," Piato explained. "I suspected that they would slay the bird which brought Aenys' letter. When I offered a decoy, they did just that. But this bird will return to Aenys."

"And where is that?" Titus demanded. "No raven can fly across the Narrow Sea!"

"Correct, my lord," Piato assured him. "She need not fly that far. If it please you." He took out a map of the Narrow Sea from his robes and spread it across the table. He placed a finger on an empty part of the water, not far from Westeros.

"There is a tiny cluster of islands barely a day from Massey's Hook," he explained. "There is only one settlement and it is mostly a haven for pirates and smugglers."

"It's true, Papa," Leroya cut in. "I've been to those islands before."

"No doubt," Sadog observed dryly. Leroya merely snorted in reply.

"I advised Aenys to remain on those islands whilst he awaits a reply," Piato continued. "Far as this raven knows, that is where he still is, and she will go back to Aenys."

"How do you know that?" Titus asked. "I thought ravens flew to castles, not men."

"Most will not," Piato agreed. "But I know a tad more about ravenry than most, and I have been in contact with Aenys for quite some time. When this bird hatched, Aenys was her father. He raised her himself and fed her by hand, so that she will always seek him out wherever she last saw him. From there, we trained her to fly to King's Landing, and the rest was simple."

Titus was astonished, but also suspicious by this sort of talk. "Tell me, if Maekar and his sons hadn't died, what exactly were you planning to do so that Aenys became king?"

The Grand Maester seemed to falter, but only for a moment. "Lord Titus, I fear that you have been away from Westeros too long. Lord Bloodraven and Lady Seastar must be stopped, I believe that with all my heart. But I also know that war is not the answer. The Blackfyres proved it thrice over. Aenys is not like his brothers, else I would never have approached you like this. He wrote that letter in good faith."

Titus sighed and looked at his fidgeting hands. He felt the others' eyes upon him, and he sensed the silent anticipation as he tried to think.

"Do you doubt my words?" Piato asked. When Titus did not reply, he spoke again. "Well, I don't blame you if you do. I would gladly swear upon the gods, if I thought that might assuage you. But if you need further proof, I beg you to meet Aenys for yourself and determine the truth for yourself."

"Please, Papa," Leroya urged. "At least give him a chance, just as you gave Ollo a chance."

Not just Ollo, Titus thought to himself. He'd done the same for dozens of other men whose kin had died fighting for Daemon Blackfyre. It had been as Baelor had wished, for he'd seen the need for the realm to be reunited once more, and peace to prevail. He strove to imagine what the crown prince might have done in his shoes, whether he would have agreed to sit down with Aenys and allow him the chance to prove his honest intentions.

Finally, Titus made up his mind. He looked up again and looked at Leroya. "How soon can we depart?"