Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

LUCERYS

“I’m willing to help you break into the Red Keep and back out again without being seen. But, in return, I want you to do a few little, ah, errands while you’re in the Red Keep. Just a few little trifles and they’ll benefit you as much as amuse me. So, hear me and remember my instructions. First, I want you to follow the white spiders in the passages to the wall behind Aemond’s room. Listen in. Open the secret door ever so slightly and watch Aemond closely. You will see something you’ll find interesting. Just so long as you don’t get caught doing it.”

Blood and Cheese did not look happy at this diversion. Luke truly wished Daemon had found better guards for him when he slipped into the Red Keep. Or, perhaps, it was Tessarion playing tricks with him. Balerion had hinted that Vermax’s wife could be cruel with the threads of fate.

Still, at a look from Luke, they fell into mutinous silence. Only the dog followed happily as Luke proceeded along the trail of painted white spiders down the narrow passageway. The little scruffy creature seemed to have taken to Luke on the way there.

At last, he reached a part of the wall with a white spider painted onto it. When he pressed his ear to the wall, he could hear Cole’s voice.

“I should be leading the van, and you should be flying cover on Vhagar. No castle would dare to raise Rhaenyra’s banner against us. We would bring the whole of the Crownlands to heel in weeks. Rosby and Stokeworth, small castles right in the shadow of King’s Landing.” 

Luke knew these words. He had seen Cole and Aemond having this discussion in a vision - but he felt sure Aemond should be saying this, not Cole. Luke crept closer to the wall and saw a hair-thin gap where the passage opened. Sure enough, there was a small rusted handle at hand level.

He opened the door as wide as a finger’s breadth. He was wise not to risk it any further. When he pressed his eye to the gap, he saw Aemond faced toward it. If his eye were not turned down to the table, he might have caught sight of the secret door and of Luke. He sat before what looked like a map with coins scattered around it. Cole sat opposite Aemond, moving coins about it to indicate armies.

“They would not want us for enemies. We could add their levies to our own, our host growing as we advance - my Prince, are you well?”

Luke took a longer look at Aemond and saw why Cole sounded concerned. Aemond’s cheeks looked hollow and dark shadows lay under his eye. He looked down at the map with a rather haunted look on his face.

It was the first time Luke could remember seeing an adult Aemond this close to looking scared.

It only lasted a moment. When Cole addressed Aemond, his gaze shot up and he assumed a more neutral expression, “Yes. Of course, I am. But, Cole, perhaps, my grandsire has a point. Perhaps, a war of dragons might yet be avoided.”

Now, that was a surprise. It was like an actors in a mummer’s show had forgotten their lines and decided to make up their own. Cole seemed to feel something similar too. He leaned back, “I did not expect to hear such words of caution from you, my prince.”

Aemond looked down and considered his response for a moment, “I am only thinking of the reprisals such actions may provoke. Speaking of which, who is guarding the Queen and her children?”

“The usual guards, I suppose.”

“You suppose?” Aemond looked up, eye blazing, “Is it not your duty as the Lord Commander to protect the King and his family? How can you only suppose how his wife and his heirs are guarded? Is the Queen not entitled to a royal protector? Why have you not assigned her one?”

The questions came at Cole so fast he could hardly get a breath between them. Luke didn’t know what to think.

Why is he so concerned about Helaena? He never even mentioned her in my visions…

Wait…no. Surely not…

Cole surprised Luke again by adopting a rather concerned tone, “Have you been taking Watchman’s Friend again? You seem most…agitated.”

“I wonder that you are not agitated about this state of affairs, Cole.” Aemond snapped back, his voice rising, “It is not only dragons and armies we need worry about but assassins sent by Rhaenyra and Daemon to infiltrate the Keep and take revenge.”

“If they did, surely, they would be sent to kill you, not the Queen. Rhaenyra may be brazen and shameless but even she would not stoop so low as to harm little children. For all her poison, she still has a woman’s soft heart.”

Luke felt a flare of anger. Anger that was reflected on Aemond’s face in that moment.

“Besides,” Cole went on in that maddeningly complacent tone, “even if she did entertain such a dreadful idea, how would her agents get to the Queen? You know the Queen likes to keep to her chambers in the Holdfast and there’s an army of guards between her and any of the gates.”

“And what about the gates we don’t know about? Surely, you know about Maegor’s passages - “

At that, Cole laughed, “I certainly didn’t expect you to entertain fears of fables, my prince. I’ve served in the Red Keep since before you were born. I know it like the back of my hand and I have never found a single secret passage. It’s just a story. Cooked up by Maegor himself to scare his enemies, no doubt.”

Aemond looked like he might reach across the table and strangle Cole in that moment. Instead, he launched to his feet and seized his cloak.

“If you are so satisfied with our safety, you will not object to me going out alone, then.”

He thrust open the door and found Otto on the other side. Before he could open his mouth, Aemond pushed him aside and snapped, “I don’t want to hear it, grandsire!”

With that, he was gone. Otto and Cole were left staring at each other in shock.

Luke closed the door soft as a whisper and beckoned the men forward.

Cheese’s eyes darted toward the wall, wide and nervous, “Does he know?”

“No, he doesn’t.” Luke said, trying to convey calm with his eyes. He knew all too well how badly it would end if he and Blood lost their heads, “If he did, he would say so right out and he wouldn’t leave the Keep.”

Gods, does Daemon not know any men with cool heads?

Luke turned back to the passage and rejoined the ever-winding trail of white spiders.

Aemond doesn’t know Blood and Cheese were supposed to come for her son tonight but he feared someone will come for them at some point. And, he does not want a war of dragons.

So…does that mean he has seen my visions too?

#

HELAENA

The worst thing was she didn’t even know why she was scared of the rats. Now, Aegon thought her an even bigger fool than he usually did.

Why do I even bother to warn him? Why did I think it would do any good?

She stood by the fire that night, holding the blanket she had been stitching. It was a crazy pattern of spiders and butterflies and everything else that flew from her head to her fingers. It was better that way. Better the crawlers come out onto the blanket than stay in her head.

It was thick for a blanket, she thought. Too thick to use while it was still summer. Maybe, it would be good for the winter.

Maybe, it’ll be good for a funeral.

Helaena squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them again, she looked to her sleeping children. The shadows were so dark that, for a moment, Jaehaerys and his little bed disappeared. She looked again and there it was, right where it should be.

She crossed the room and gave both children a kiss. It was the waiting that was the worst. Knowing something would happen but not knowing what and wishing she could think of something to stop it. Praying for just one more night before calamity fell.

“Please, leave us.” Helaena told her ladies, “I wish for a night alone.”

If it is to come tonight, let them be spared at least. Whatever’s to come, let them not be trampled simply for being in the way.

None of them protested. They picked up their things and left, trying not to look relieved. They had all been ladies of her mother’s choosing, not hers. Not that she would know who to choose anyway. She had no friends in the Keep and preferred it that way. She didn’t want to know any of the ladies around her. Not when they wrinkled their noses at her crickets or, worse, trampled them without a second thought.

Better they all stay away. Better for them and better for me.

She picked up her blanket again. She saw a hint of silver in the corner and saw a seahorse leaping out of the sea.

When did I do that? I can’t remember.

Something touched her hand. She looked around and saw a guard standing behind her. A guard she didn’t know with bright blue eyes and a scar across his face.

“Please don’t scream.” He whispered, “I promise I won’t hurt you.”

Helaena kept quiet. Killers didn’t usually say ‘please’.

The guard then pulled off his helmet, revealing dark curly hair, “Do you recognise me, aunt?”

At first, she thought it was Jace. Then, it hit her, “Luke. I heard you were dead. I heard that Aemond killed you and your dragon. That’s what caused it. That’s what starts everything.”

Luke gave her a sad smile, “Vhagar killed Arrax, not Aemond. And, Vhagar did kill me but I’m back now. And, I’m going to make sure you and your children live too."

A sudden movement in the shadows made Helaena look up. In the shadows, she saw two scruffy men with eyes shifting to the door. One was large and had a round head like a rock perched atop a mountain. The other had a thick beard that did not conceal how thin and hungry his face looked.

She had never seen them before but the sight of them filled her with a sudden terror.

“Don’t worry about them.” Luke reassured her, “Daemon sent them to protect me.” By the look on his face, he liked their presence just as little as she did, “But, if we leave quickly, we won’t need to worry about fighting our way out. Here,” He put down a basket of clothes, “one of my patrons said these would help you all escape unseen.”

The basket turned out to contain a maidservant’s dress and cap along with plain clothes fit for kitchen boys for both the children.

Helaena didn’t know what would come. Truly, she did not know. Usually, she knew what would happen but didn’t know when or knew it would be bad but not how bad. This confusion, however, was completely new. She felt frozen by it for a long moment.

Luke gave her a smile, “It’s all going to be alright.” He switched to High Valyrian, “The gods saw what was to come and did not like it. So, they’re going to change our fates.”

Those words held certainty. They were not the uneasy words of a septon faced with explaining the unexplainable acts of the gods, they were the words of someone who knew for sure.

And that was good enough for her.

“I’ll wake the children,” She said, “and explain what we’re going to do. I don’t want them to be frightened.”

She crossed the room. Jaehaerys took a little longer to wake than Jaehaera but, once they were sitting up, they were wide awake and wide eyed.

“We’re going on a secret journey.” She told them, “We’re going to Dragonstone to visit your Aunt Rhaenyra. This visit is going to help stop a war but we have to be as quick and quiet as we can. No one can know we’re going. Not even your father.”

Helaena had tried to keep her voice steady. She had tried not to let her lingering fear show but Jaehaera still looked at her with the same fear Helaena had felt when Luke first touched her arm. Jaehaerys, on the other hand, began to lose interest. He never could focus on one thing for long. His gaze slid into the darkness and found Luke. Then, he spotted something that made his eyes light up.

“Doggy.”

A dog with ratty fur the colour of sand trotted out of the darkness. The thin man hissed a sharp command but Luke held up a hand.

He beckoned the dog forward and led him toward the children. Jaehaerys came forward at once and giggled as the dog licked his face. Jaehaera watched for a moment. Then, when Helaena gave her a little push, she approached the dog with her hand out. The dog, its tail wagging madly, started licking her hand at once. Little by little, Jaehaera’s fearful look was replaced with a smile.

Helaena changed into the maid’s uniform while the children huddled around the dog. She felt very grateful to Luke for ordering the men to look away as she undressed behind the screen. After that, both children changed into their disguises and they slipped out of the chamber.

As they did so, Helaena noticed their beds had developed lumps that, when the curtains were drawn, looked very like Helaena and the children abed as they should be.

“I did that while you were changing.” Luke told her, “To buy us some time to escape.”

Their journey through the Keep took them through shadowy passages, empty corridors and even near to the throne room where Aegon sat drinking and talking nonsense on the Iron Throne. Helaena felt glad they were not walking across it. She didn’t want the children to see their father drunk again.

“I have a spy among his drinking companions.” Luke informed her as Aegon’s slurred voice faded away, “He is happy to tell me Aegon’s secrets if I keep some of his worst indiscretions secret. I might get another spy soon if I’m right about one of his other companion’s debts.”

Helaena nodded, “It’ll work. The turtle’s shell is empty.” She realised what slipped out a second after she said it. She wished she were a turtle like the symbol of House Estermont so she could hide her face.

Luke, however, didn’t look confused or amused. He just said, “Thanks,” and smiled as if she’d told him something useful.

It left Helaena feeling like the world had turned on its head.

One trip through fetid water (with Helaena and Luke carrying the children over it) later, they stepped outside into the darkened streets of King’s Landing.

“Bloody hell.” The smaller man breathed, “In and out and not one guard stopped us!”

The larger man snorted with derision, “If any goldcloaks were as lazy as that, they’d be flogged half to death.”

“Heads are gonna roll when they find out, that’s for sure.” The smaller man turned to Luke, “Don’t know who your friend is but he knows his stuff.”

“Well, if you ever meet him,” Luke said, all seriousness, “make sure you ask him what he wants in return if he offers you a favour. He never does anything for free and he never forgets a debt.”

At that moment, there came a sound from the shadows. The men cursed and reached for their weapons. Helaena took a step back and seized her children’s hands. She stared about - and saw one of the shadows moving toward them. The newcomer held up her hands and stepped into a pool of torchlight. She wore the sort of plain but well-made clothes Helaena had seen on her dressmakers with a yellow veil covering her hair but leaving her kind brown face on full display.

“Don’t be afraid. I’m here to help you out of the city.”

She clicked her tongue. At once, a horse-drawn cart with a thick canvas cover came into view, “Come, Helaena. You and the children will go in the back. And, ah, sorry for the smell.”

Jaehaerys wrinkled his nose and backed off at the stink from the sacks.

“Here, little one, I have a clothes peg to put on your nose.” The kindly woman said, “I’m afraid we have to travel in something smelly. My father told me that’s the best way to make sure gate guards aren’t inclined to inspect the cargo. Besides, your new friend doesn’t mind. Come on.”

The kindly woman patted the nearest sack and the dog jumped up under the cover. Wooden pegs on their noses, the children agreed to get into the cart. Helaena hesitated. Something itched at the back of her mind.

“I know your father.” She said. She tried to put her thoughts into words but all she could say was, “He has…feathers.”

Like Luke, the kindly woman nodded as if she’d made sense, “Quite right. Though, you probably know my mother better than my father.”

That itching feeling returned, “I do know your mother but - but I haven’t seen her. She’s…unseen.”

“Spot on.” The kindly woman helped Helaena up and looked up at the two rough men, who both looked properly confused, “It’s just our little code, gentlemen. Come on, you two can ride up front with me. My father’s uncle is performing a fire-eating act in a tavern just outside the city. He told me to tell you that a good way to spend Daemon’s money will be on getting blind-drunk with us.”

That, the men did understand. Their faces relaxed into almost-smiles and they climbed up onto the driver’s seat. Cheese even tried to smooth his hair and rub the worst of the grime off his face before climbing up. Helaena got the distinct feeling that the smaller man would end up in greater debt than he had ever been before the night was done. And, that he had as much chance of charming the kindly woman as he would in claiming a dragon.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” The kindly woman picked up a wicker basket from the driver’s seat and placed it before Luke, “That has everything you need for the rest of your mission. No need to open it until you get to the small council chamber. And there’s a little something extra Father threw in for free. He says he knows you’re clever enough to realise what it’s for and how you can use it to save another life tonight. Just keep following the white spiders and you won’t go wrong.”

#

LUCERYS

Luke watched the cart with Helaena and the children under the canvas until it was out of sight. He felt a lot better for knowing they were in Syrax’s care.

He picked up the basket and slung it onto his back. He made his way back into the passages and found the white spider trail again. This time, they moved away from the main royal apartments and into a place Luke recognised from his visions.

Mother’s old apartments. This is the passage Mother used to leave the Keep with Daemon after her failed tour. And those apartments are where she and Cole had their first tryst.

He approached the secret door. He thought the rooms were empty and had been for ten years after Rhaenyra left. He thought Vermax’s next instructions would be easy:

‘Open the door to your mother’s old room just a crack and take the trinket you see in front of it.’

Yet, he heard voices. Heart racing, he crept on tiptoe towards the door. He pressed his ear to it - and heard a very obvious female moan of pleasure.

What in the name of - 

He saw a white spider on the door. It was certainly the right door. But, Luke wished with all his heart he didn’t have to open it. The noises beyond sounded obscene.

And they sounded worse when he eased open the door. There could be no doubt that some man and woman were fucking on Rhaenyra’s old bed. Luke knew the door stood right beside the bed. If they looked his way -

But they sounded distracted enough. Luke widened the crack just a little and looked through.

What he saw made him pull his head back and sit staring into space in shock for a minute.

Queen Alicent…and Ser Criston…

Then, he had to stuff his fist in his mouth to stop himself laughing. 

Well, we haven’t got to that part in Alicent’s papers yet. Wait until Mother hears about this!

Then, he shook himself. He needed to finish his mission and get out so he could tell his mother about this. He looked to the door again. On the floor beyond lay Ser Criston’s white cloak and on top of that lay a small seven pointed star necklace. A tiny emerald had been set into each of the points. Alicent, however, must have thrown it aside with some force because one of the gems had fallen out. It lay glittering on the floor beside Cole’s cloak.

As quick as he could, Luke reached out and snatched the necklace up, leaving the tiny gem behind. He closed the door and hurried along the passage. Neither Cole nor Alicent had noticed a thing. Little wonder, Luke thought, for they seemed very absorbed in what they were doing to each other.

He reached the small council chamber with nothing but the occasional rat crossing his path. He came out into the corridor, slipped into the chamber and closed the door behind him. The braziers were long extinguished but a few embers still glowed in the hearth. 

Luke approached it to see the contents of the basket. To his relief, the first thing he saw was a lantern and a taper to light it. Luke soon had a better source of light to see the table and the contents of the basket.

At first, he thought Vermax had stolen his own mask and cloak. The longer he looked, however, the more he saw the subtle differences. There were only two short and stubby horns and the white paint didn’t have a pearl shine. 

It’s some the copies Mysaria distributed around the city.

He delved deeper and found more identical masks just like it. He also found two cyvasse pieces, two Kingsguard cloaks, a sharp pair of sheers, a small pot of red ink, a larger pot of black ink and a thin paintbrush.

Vermax hadn’t told him what to do with the contents. He had just told him to ‘leave a message for the council’. He had the ink but there was only a tiny slip of paper at the bottom. So, unless one counted the masks - 

Wait a moment.

Luke looked to the small council chamber. He remembered where each council member would sit in his visions. Otto would be at the right hand of Aegon’s chair at the head of the table. Alicent would be next to him. Ser Tyland, Lord Jasper and Maester Orwyle would be sitting on the other side. Cole would be standing behind it in the Lord Commander’s position.

Luke counted the masks and found there to be eight.

There’s enough for all of them but who is the last one meant for?

He reached in and picked up the sheers again. He thought he could see the vague shape of what Vermax wanted him to do but the sheers didn’t fit.

‘He says he knows you’re clever enough to realise what it’s for and how you can use it to save another life tonight.’

Luke looked down at the other objects - and he realised it at once. It was the same reason he had been given two Kingsguard cloaks, not one.

With slightly shaking hands, Luke set to work. The cyvasse pieces were one rabble piece and one king piece. After a moment’s thought, he placed the king piece before Otto’s chair and the rabble piece before Aegon’s. He fished the star necklace out of his pocket and placed it in front of Alicent’s chair. He picked up one of the Kingsguard cloaks. Then, inspiration hit him.

Or, perhaps, Vermax had whispered it into his ear.

He turned back to the dying fire and picked up a handful of soot and ash. He rubbed it as hard as he could into the white cloth until it turned black and grey. Then, he hung the soiled cloak on the edge of the war map standing beside the table.

Now, for the masks.

Each of them required a fair amount of consideration. If he wanted to leave a message, he wanted it to be memorable and unsettling. Alicent and Cole’s messages were easy. He decided to put the same message on Ser Tyland, Maester Orwyle and Lord Jasper’s masks. Then, for good measure, he painted the left side of their masks red so it looked like they were bleeding from the left temple.

Otto’s message proved the trickiest behind Aegon’s. He knew Aegon wouldn’t understand it but Otto would.

At last, he made his decision and then placed each of the masks in their proper places. 

I just hope it’s enough. I hope I worded the messages well enough to please Vermax and scare the green council. And, I hope I’m right about the sheers.

He added his message to the last mask and the slip of paper in the council chamber. He had a feeling he wouldn’t have time later.

Then, he heard faint voices beyond the door.

That’s a sign that I should leave.

He hid the lantern in the basket and waited, ear pressed to the door, for the voices to pass. The guards sounded casual. One was even moaning about getting the night’s watch three nights in a row. 

Looks like no one knows Helaena’s gone yet. Good.

Then, he dashed across the corridor and found the passage again.

Sure enough, when he followed the white spiders and re-emerged into the corridors, he found himself in a passage just off the throne room. Blessing his soft boots, Luke crept to the doorway. He heard slurring voices beyond and caught the sound of a drunken laugh Luke knew very well.

“No. No, no, no, I am not having another ssson. One’sssh enough. If I have another ssson, he might grow up to be a twat like Aemond.”

Aegon hadn’t moved from where he lounged on the throne. Neither had his drunken friends. Nor had Ser Rickard on the left of the throne and Ser Arryk on the right, just ten yards ahead of Luke. He had taken off his helmet because of the stuffy heat in the room.

Good. That’ll make it easier.

Luke retreated back into the shadows. He picked up the last Kingsguard cloak, laid it on the floor and placed both mask and message on top of it. Then, after thinking for another minute, he struck the sheers against the wall. It made a soft clanging sound.

Not loud enough.

He struck it harder. Then, again. And again until Ser Arryk glanced into the passage. Still, he didn’t move from his post. Not even when Luke struck the sheers harder against the wall.

“Sssomeone stop that banging!” Aegon shouted at last, “It’s getting on my tits!”

At last, Ser Arryk turned and moved toward him. Luke pressed himself against the shadows and opened the sheers. He would only have one chance at this. If he mistimed it or if Ser Arryk caught him, he would be dragged before Aegon and all would be lost.

“Hey.” Aegon said with a laugh, “Hey, look. How’d that raven get in here?”

His friends burst out laughing.

“Is - is it bowing?” Martyn Reyne chortled.

“It is!” Leon Estermont crowed, “Who’s a clever boy, then?”

Luke could breathe a little easier. Vermax was helping. That had to be a good sign that he was doing things right.

Ser Arryk entered the passage. The light was poor enough for him to walk right past Luke but the white cloak and mask could still just be seen. Luke saw Ser Arryk notice it and pause. He strode toward it and then crouched down to examine the mask.

That’s my chance!

Luke jumped forward, grabbed Ser Arryk’s hair and brought down the sheers. The cut wasn’t straight and it didn’t go through all the strands but it was enough. When the sheers snapped shut, all a single lock of Ser Arryk’s once-long hair came away. Ser Arryk gave a shout and sprang up, drawing his sword and glaring into the darkness. Luke danced to the side, staying behind Ser Arryk’s back and always out of the knight’s line of sight. It was just like he had when playing hiding games with Jace as a child.

“Where are you?” Ser Arryk shouted, “Show yourself!”

A loud caw came in response. Vermax the raven shot into the passage and flew into Ser Arryk’s face. Luke took that for the gift of a distraction it was and darted back into the passage. He managed to get the door closed just as Ser Rickard arrived, shouting, “What’s going on? What’s happened?”

Luke didn’t linger. Heart pounding against his ribcage like sticks on a drum, Luke flew down the passage, following the white spiders all the way out of the Keep. 

He emerged from the last passage out into a familiar isolated beach. The sack containing his own mask, cloak and papers were just where he left them, propped against the wall of the passage. Hands shaking with leftover excitement, he donned his Lord Velaryon clothes and stuffed the guard uniform back into the sack. Slinging it over his shoulder and taking a deep breath to calm himself, he strode up the beach toward the city.

Daemon and Rhaena should be long gone with their dragons and passengers by now. By the relative calm of the street noise above, it looked like they had managed it without raising the alarm. 

Luke reached the bottom of the long stone staircase. He was just about to take the first step when a raven fluttered down in front of him. In the space between one blink and the next, the raven was replaced with a grinning Vermax.

“Marvelous work. Soiling Cole’s cloak with the soot was a stroke of genius and you’re making excellent time. In fact, you probably have some time to have a little wander around the city before you go for your meeting with Aemond. Go and be seen around the city. Maybe, check if Balerion wants a word in the Grand Sept. Or help Mysaria’s people delivering alms to the poor. I’m sure Hugh Hammer might appreciate a visit from you personally.”

Luke chose his words carefully, “I thank you for your advice. What may I offer in exchange?”

Vermax gave him a mock-wounded look, “Now, why would you think I would demand a debt in exchange for such a little piece of advice?”

“Debts have a habit of growing. I would rather pay them now rather than let them accumulate.”

Vermax’s grin turned wicked, “Yes, you know all about neglected debts, don’t you?”

Luke was reminded in that moment why he wasn’t sure whether he liked Vermax or not.

“Well, if you do all of this before going to see Aemond, I’ll make sure your conversation with Aemond lasts another thirty minutes than it would have? How’s that? You give me thirty minutes, I give you thirty minutes. I’d call that a fair bargain.”

“And, you guarantee that I’ll leave without a fight or a chase? And that no goldcloaks or Kingsguard will catch me in the city?” Luke added.

“Of course.” Vermax smirked, “Now, why would you think I wouldn’t make sure of that in the first place?”

His face and voice told Luke he had been right to insist on those conditions, “You have a deal.”

“Good. A pleasure doing business with you. You’re certainly better with your words than Balerion. It’s quite refreshing. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to the Keep. There’ll be a shitstorm when they find out about Helaena and I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

In another blink, he had turned back into a raven and flown off into the night. So, Luke turned back to the stairs and made his way up to the city. The climb made him feel rather hot under his mask and his knee started to ache halfway up. By the time he reached the top and came out onto a wide street, he dearly wished he could remove it and fan his sweating face.

A few people turned to look at his mask for a moment but only a moment. They turned back to their own business quickly and seemed to forget him. Then, Luke spotted two men in imitation Lord Velaryon masks moving through the crowd just a few yards ahead of him.

He let himself relax a little.

Good, Mysaria’s plan is working. The goldcloaks and Kingsguard will be bogged down with these false trails when they finally start looking for me.

But, if Vermax kept his word, that wouldn’t be for quite some time yet. So, he turned toward Visenya’s Hill and made a beeline for the Grand Sept. He passed several more masked men and women and even a few masked children as he went. Some passers-by looked around to stare but most paid them no heed. Just as Mysaria said, their sightings had become so numerous that people no longer paid them attention. That meant fewer people would notice or remember him.

Indeed, when he reached the Grand Sept, he found six masked people, each one praying to every god but the Stranger. Septon Eustace barely even spared Luke a second look when he entered. But, when Luke took a candle and moved toward the bare alter of the Stranger, he did feel the septon’s curious gaze upon the back of his neck.

Vermax is getting his wish. I’m being seen.

Luke lit a candle before the Stranger, put a soft cushion under his bad knee and clasped his hands. As he had half-expected, the Stranger’s statue became engulfed in shadow. Its shape turned around to face Luke and shrunk down to the size of a child. 

“I’m glad to see you’re being careful when dealing with Vermax.” Balerion said, “You must always be on your guard when dealing with him. I have good news. I have seen Helaena and the children reach Daemon and Rhaena safely a moment ago. No one saw them and they will likely make it to Dragonstone without raising the alarm. The children will be safe and, for that, I am grateful.

“Vermax mentioned Hugh Hammer in his dealings with you. You know from your visions what made him turn to your mother and then turn away from her. I know from Vermax’s words that he intends you to help him and his family so he is not driven to such an extreme.”

He pressed his lips together and then leaned forward as if he didn’t want to be overheard, “That is something that would please me too. Look under the cushion at the Mother’s alter. I have persuaded Tessarion to part with medicine that will cure his daughter of her current sickness. She must take a teaspoon dissolved in a cup of water every day until the medicine runs out. She must do so even if she starts feeling better before the bottle runs out. That will make sure the sickness does not return.” He glanced to the door, “And, if you would keep this from Vermax as long as possible, I would be grateful. I am not inclined to deal with his smugness at the moment.”

Balerion faded away into shadow, leaving only the giant stone Stranger behind. Luke rose and approached the Mother’s alter. He reached under the cushions and, sure enough, he found a glass vial. It was about the size of a plum and filled with clear liquid.

Luke stowed it away in his pocket and rose from the alter. Only then did he feel someone watching him. With slow, careful movements, Luke turned and faced what turned out to be the sombre-faced Septon Eustace.

“In all my time as a Septon, I have only seen nine people pray to the Stranger before tonight. You are the tenth. Ser, I must ask, what death do you pray for? These are troubled times enough without wishing for death.”

Luke pulled out his papers, considered his answer and wrote, ‘I do not wish for a death in the future, Septon. I pray to the Stranger so I may face my own death. If I look death in the face every day, it will not a stranger to me so I will no reason to fear it.’

Septon Eustace frowned as he read Luke’s answer, “And, you have reason to believe you will face your death soon, ser? Who are you and what death do you believe pursues you?”

‘I am only one of many, Septon. Death is my constant companion but, hopefully, he will not take me before I finish my business tonight. I bid you good night.’

He let Septon Eustace get to the end of the page before turning and walking out of the sept. It took a great effort not to let his hands shake with nerves or bolt for the door.

You are not Lucerys. He reminded himself, You aren’t scared of a septon. You aren’t scared to walk the streets of King’s Landing. You do what must be done.

When he left the Grand Sept, he heard the sound of a slow drumbeat. Luke paused at the top of the stairs to get a good look. He didn’t think he’d have time to see this. Nor did he think the procession would get as far as this before the goldcloaks smelled treachery.

Two dozen masked men and women surrounded a wide cart pulled by a white horse. Ahead of it, one man carried a blue and silver Velaryon banner and another carried a red and black Targaryen banner. Placed high on a bier, atop everyone’s heads so all could see, were two ‘bodies’ made with what Luke knew to be straw wrapped in funeral shrouds. 

The smaller of the two was only baby sized and laid on another Targaryen banner. The larger was Luke’s size laid on a Velaryon banner. The shroud was painted with red lines and tied with red rope as if the figure had been ripped apart and put back together. White flowers and seashells surrounded them. 

Two of the masked women occasionally flung white flowers over the ‘bodies’ as they walked. 

No one spoke. It would be too risky to declare it a funeral procession for Lucerys Velaryon and baby Visenya Targaryen so far into the city. It would be even more so to denounce Aemond and Aegon right in front of the goldcloaks following at a distance behind them. The goldcloaks seemed unsure whether this was treasonous enough to warrant an arrest. Or, perhaps, they were waiting for the procession to do something more blatant.

But, the procession could not be blatant. Not as much as the funeral procession for Jaehaerys anyway. Still, people were looking out from their windows at the sound of the drums. Other people were following to get a closer look and muttering amongst themselves. Luke thought he saw one of his masked men lean towards the onlookers and speak to them. He saw a woman gasp and clap her hands to her mouth.

They must be telling her about Mother’s stillbirth. Good. Let it be enough for the story to spread through the city.

As horrid as he found the vision of Jaehaerys’ funeral, Luke had to admit that it was a good enough idea to use himself.

It’s still rather surreal to watch my own funeral procession.

Luke heard the door open behind him again. Septon Eustace emerged and hastened to the railing to stare down at the procession.

“What is this?” He muttered. Luke glanced to the side in time to see him look from the masks of the procession to Luke’s own mask.

Luke inclined his head again and made his way down the stairs. Twice, Septon Eustace tried to call him back and explain what was happening. Both times, Luke and the procession ignored him. Again, Luke forced himself not to hurry. He joined the end of the procession and then disappeared down the next alley.

The Street of Steel was not too far from the Grand Sept. When he stopped a passing woman in a Lord Velaryon mask, she not only showed him the way but led him to the door of Hugh and his family. He could see masked men carrying crates full of food already going in and out of the houses behind the blacksmiths’ shops.

Mysaria had told Luke that Aegon had promised them an advance on the payment for the scorpions but Otto had been slow to deliver. Luke would make up for that tonight. He would give them the food they needed rather than money to spend on rotting, scarce and ever-more expensive food within the city. He and his men would tell them that, while Aegon only promised, Rhaenyra delivered.

He found someone already at Hugh’s door. Hugh stood in the doorway, his large frame reaching beyond its confines. His voice was low but resonating and he seemed to be questioning the man with the crate full of food.

“…would the Queen go to so much trouble? We don’t want any trouble coming to our doorstep over this.”

The masked man looked ready to argue but Luke laid a hand on his shoulder. The masked man, whose eyes were dark and narrow, turned to glare at Luke - and then nearly dropped the crate in shock.

“Oh! I, uh, did not expect to see you here in person, milord.”

“Milord?” Hugh turned to look down at Luke. Luke could see his Targaryen heritage in his silver-blond hair at once. His eyes, however, were as blue as the sea around Driftmark and they glowered at Luke warily, “Begging your pardon but who in seven hells are you?”

“This is Lord Velaryon.” The masked man said, “He’s the one who organised this on behalf of the Queen. And, it’s him you should be showing a bit of gratitude towards rather than suspicion.”

Luke held up a warning hand to stop the man escalating this further. He wrote his reply and had his guide read it aloud, “'Hugh has every right to be suspicious. He risks much in taking my gift. Not just his own life but that of his family should the pretender king seek to soothe his bruised pride by making an example of him.’”

Hugh looked a little mollified but still didn’t move from the doorway, “What you say is true. Not that I’m not grateful for the offer, milord, but I’m not one for charity and a week’s worth of food isn’t worth the risk of having my head put on a spike for accepting gifts from, well, people the King would call traitors. And, without me, my family won’t have anything to live on.”

Luke nodded, giving him an understanding look as he wrote, “‘Then, I offer you something that is worth the risk. If you would let me step inside, I will show you.’”

Hugh looked Luke up and down, sizing him up and perhaps wondering if he could easily toss Luke out if he caused trouble. Luke had no doubt that he could. He could probably throw Luke all the way across the street if he wanted to.

“Alright then. Come in.”

Luke stepped inside with his interpreter behind him. Only a few stubby candles offered some meagre light in the drab room. Luke could just make out a room only about a quarter of the size of the chamber of the painted table with drying herbs hung on the walls, dead logs on the hearth and a plain table where a brown-skinned woman sat, staring with wide dark eyes.

“Hugh, who is this?” She stood up carefully as if she feared Luke would pounce any moment.

“He calls himself Lord Velaryon, Kat. He claims he can offer us help that’s worth risking the King’s wrath.”

The woman, Kat, frowned, “That’s not Lord Corlys. He’s too small for a start.”

“’I do not claim to be. Lord Corlys simply let me borrow the title as I cannot use my real name. Forgive me for any misunderstanding. Now, let me show you what aid I am offering.’”

He pulled out the vial and laid it on the table before Kat.

“’It is medicine to cure your daughter.’”

Hugh and Kat looked at each other. Luke saw them go from surprise to hope and then watched it all smothered by suspicion. Kat turned back to him, “How do you know my daughter’s sick? Who are you? Why are you doing this? We don’t have anything to offer you and we won’t take what we can’t fairly pay for.”

Luke decided to just lay it out, “’You both have eyes and ears. That is what I need in King’s Landing at the moment. I have many eyes and ears in the city already but I am always looking for more. And, in return, my men will take care of you and will expect the same from you. It is not charity I offer. It is payment in advance and that is a good deal more than Aegon is providing at the moment.’”

Hugh softened a little more at the idea that it wasn’t charity. Kat still didn’t look convinced, “And, what do you want in return for that medicine? You’d be a fool to give away something like that for nothing.”

Luke felt uncomfortably like he was becoming Vermax, always looking for an advantage in return for good works. But, he told himself that Lord Velaryon would not miss an opportunity to gain an advantage, “‘Hugh worked on the scorpion bolt machines on the Red Keep walls. He knows how they are constructed and how they work.’”

“Aye.” Hugh nodded.

“’I or one of my men may call upon him at some point to provide construction plans. If they have a weakness, I would like to know it. And, I can assure you that the goldcloaks will not be paying much attention to what you do this night.’” He offered Hugh a mischievous look, “’They will be a little preoccupied with everything else I’ve been up to. And, even if they do, my men know secret ways out of the city and may smuggle you out when it is necessary.’”

“That’s true.” Luke’s interpretor added, “We look after our own.”

“Hold on a minute,” Kat eyed the masked woman, “is that you, Mya?”

“Shush!” Luke’s interpretor hissed, “No one can know it’s me. It’s safer that way. If we don’t know who we are, we can’t betray each other.”

“Never thought I’d see you working for rebels.” Kat replied, “He can be trusted, can he?” She jerked her head at Luke.

“Without a doubt.” Mya said.

Hugh and Kat again looked at each other again. Again, they reached a conclusion without saying a word. Hugh took a step forward to stand before Luke, looking just like he would have when facing down Vermithor.

“If this medicine works, I’m your man. If it doesn’t, I’ll turn the lot of you in. And, if I ever get my hands on you, I’ll bash your head to paste with my hammer, mask and all.”

Luke conceded with a nod. A little flicker of unbidden pride flared within Luke at that moment. Perhaps, he thought, Jaehaerys or Alysanne or both could see Hugh through Luke’s eyes and felt proud to know this man was their grandson.

#

The crossroads of the Street of Silk had been made an unofficial stabling yard for highborn men to stow their horses or carriages discreetly. According to Mysaria, the people living there had realised the potential for a lucrative business and made a comfortable amount of extra gold out of renting the space. Sure enough, Luke saw a chestnut horse with a Targaryen sigil on the saddle tied to a ring in the wall and a brown-skinned girl wearing a Lord Velaryon mask waiting on the corner. 

“So, you got out alright, then?” She said, “I was getting worried there.”

Luke nodded and she handed him a scrap of paper and an hourglass.

“We got the times down like you said. Only thing left is the time it takes to get from Mother’s to Vhagar. She said you wanted to do that yourself.”

Luke nodded again. He stowed away the paper for later study and attached the hourglass by the straps around its box to his belt.

As they walked up the Street of Silk, ignoring the women calling from doors and balconies, Luke spotted Ser Willis. He had secreted himself between two tall wine barrels, eyes on the door of the pillowhouse on the other side of the Street. His position was just discreet enough to avoid casual notice but just close enough to charge in if he sensed trouble.

The woman tilted her head to the door Ser Willis stared at, “That’s Mother’s, there. Give the doorman this message and he’ll let you in.”

Luke reached for his papers and wrote, ‘Is my gift for Mother’s ready?’

“Aye. Ready to be wheeled to the back door.”

“Hey!” Ser Willis’ voice made them both freeze. The Kingsguard stepped out from his hiding place and approached them. Luke’s heart started pounding again.

Don’t move yet. Don’t give him reason to suspect you before you have to.

“You’re the third lot of people in those masks I’ve seen coming down here. What’s going on? Some kind of mummer’s show?”

“Aye.” The woman replied without missing a beat, “we’re letting everyone here know about our show coming up soon.”

Ser Willis didn’t look any less suspicious, “I hardly think this is a time for mummer’s shows. There’s trouble brewing inside the city and out.”

Again, the woman had an answer, “I’d say that’s the best time for mummer’s shows, Ser. People need something to take their minds off the trouble.”

Ser Willis’ face relaxed a little but he didn’t move again, “Well, it’s a funny way to promote a show, walking all over the place in masks.”

“All part of the show, Ser. Every character wears this mask. Nearly all of them are innocent but only one of them is guilty. Everyone has to guess who it is.”

At that, Ser Willis finally betrayed a smile and his voice lost its hard edge, “I don’t suppose it’s him, is it?” He pointed at Luke, “His mask is different from the others. Does that mean he’s the villain?”

“Ah, now, Ser, you shouldn’t judge someone because they look different. Real villains look just like everybody else.”

Ser Willis laughed, “Very witty. I like it.“

“And, he’s about to knock off anyway.” The woman patted him on the shoulder, “You have fun in there. I’ll tell the boss you did good.”

Luke gave her a nod and inclined his head to Ser Willis before entering the perfumed halls of Mother’s.

Chapter Text

VERMAX

The night could not be going better. Luke had followed his instructions to the letter and even improved them in some points. Soiling Cole’s cloak with the soot had been a stroke of genius.

He would make it out of the Keep and attend to his other plans. Tessarion would make sure all would go well. There was nothing for Vermax to do now but to sit back, watch what had happened after he departed and wait the shitstorm to come.

Vermax flew up to the roof of the throne room, laid himself out on the red tiles and clapped his hands. His ribbons sprang to life and showed him Ser Rickard charging into the passage just as Luke disappeared through the secret door.

“Ser Arryk, what was - Ser…your hair!”

Only then did Ser Arryk lift a hand and feel his loss. His expression went from bewilderment to outrage, “My hair! That bastard’s cut my hair!”

“Who? Who was it?”

“I know not. Someone grabbed me from behind when I was looking at this.” He held up the Lord Velaryon mask, “Does this mean anything to you?”

“I don’t know. I can barely see it. Guard, bring a torch over here!”

One of the ordinary guards brought over a torch. All three stared into the newly lit passage but Luke was long gone. The guard too couldn’t help but stare at Ser Arryk’s hair for a little too long. Ser Arryk scowled and held up the mask again so Ser Rickard could see. In doing so, he spotted the message written on the other side.

“There’s something written here…‘He will blame you for his failure’.”

“What in seven hells - wait, what’s that on the floor?” Ser Rickard spotted the cloak and the extra message Luke had left. Ser Arryk kept his sword drawn and wouldn’t lower himself to look until he had checked for any other sheers-wielding shadows. Vermax couldn’t help but chuckle at that.

“It says ‘Hold still - I’m saving your life’.”

“Hey, wha’sss going on over there?” Aegon called, “Is there an assass-ass-asssin trying to get in? And where’sss the raven?”

Ser Rickard and Ser Arryk exchanged a frown. At last, Ser Rickard delivered his verdict on the situation, “I think it best if His Grace returns to his chambers until we’ve questioned the staff. It could just be a jape played one of His Grace’s friends but we can’t take any chances.”

“Should we ask His Grace if this was a jape?”

“Not directly. He’ll probably try to blame someone else. Best not to raise the whole Keep either. Not when we don’t know exactly what happened. It could have all just been a stupid jape, after all.”

Ser Arryk nodded with no small reluctance and donned his helmet to try and hide the damage. They re-entered the throne room and Ser Rickard approached the throne, “Your Grace, we believe whoever it was is gone but, as a precaution, I must insist you return to your chambers. Guards, question the servants. Ask if they have seen anyone near the throne room. Perhaps, holding a pair of sheers or scissors.”

Aegon groaned like a child told to go to bed, “No. You said they’re gone so it’s fine. They haven’t done anything - Ser Arryk, why - why are you wearing your helmet now? Take it off. It’sss boiling in here.”

Ser Arryk hesitated. Then, with a deeply resigned expression, he removed his helmet. It took Aegon a long moment of staring through his wine haze to realise what was different. Then, he threw back his head and burst out laughing, “What - what the fuck? What have you done to your hair?”

Ser Arryk went crimson with embarrassment, “I did nothing, Your Grace. The intruder or whoever it was cut my hair while my back was turned.”

That made Aegon and his friends laugh all the harder, “I - I’ve heard the ghosts of the Red Keep builders haunt this place but not the barbers!”

“You can see why Maegor killed him if it was the barber.” Eddard Waters chuckled, “He did a shit job.”

“He left this, Your Grace.” Ser Arryk said, raising the mask and trying to keep an even voice, “Do you recognise it?”

Again, Aegon needed a moment to look properly, “No. No, I’ve never seen it before. Is it the face of the ghost barber?”

“That is why you need to return to your chambers, Your Grace.” Ser Rickard said, trying to take attention off the furious Ser Arryk, “If the intruder comes again, it might not just be our hair that gets cut. Please, come with me.”

“Alright, alright, if it stops you nagging me. Come on, everyone. Time for bed. Let’s hope we don’t all wake up bald on the morrow.” He staggered down the throne steps, nearly cutting himself on the swords on more than one occasion. As he reached Ser Arryk, he grabbed the mask and held it up to his face, “Whooo, I’m the ghost barber, here to fuck up your hair!”

Aegon’s friends howled with laughter all the way out of the room, dodging playfully out of the way as Aegon reached for them. Ser Arryk remained silent, stewing in fury and humiliation.

He was the more vain out of the Cargyll twins. He feels this deeply. He’ll probably swear a blood oath to kill Lord Velaryon just for that.

At last, the two Kingsguard got Aegon back to his chambers. They assumed their places outside his door, listening to more of his drunken ramblings with his friends. All there was left to do now was wait. Vermax made himself comfortable on a nearby windowsill, clapped his hands again and watched Luke’s progress through the city.

At last, the ribbons showed Aemond leaving the brothel. By that time, Aegon had drunk himself into unconsciousness and so had his friends. Vermax clapped and the golden ribbons snapped back to his arms. He pushed himself to his feet and stretched lazily.

Time for the shitstorm to commence.

He drifted to the royal apartments, moved to Ser Arryk’s side and whispered an idea in his ear. Ser Arryk frowned but his discipline prevailed. A single thought would not be enough to move him from his post.

Vermax had to whisper it two more times for Ser Arryk to take the idea. He looked to Ser Rickard and whispered, “I’m going to go and check on the Queen and Prince Aemond. Just to make sure whoever did this didn’t try anything with them.”

“Prince Aemond’s out as far as I know.” Ser Rickard whispered back, “He might not be back yet. But, yes, check on the Queen. She’s well-guarded but you never know. I’ll keep watch here.”

Ha, that’s what you think. Vermax thought. He had thought he’d have to do some clever working with the guard rotation to make sure Luke was undisturbed but it seemed Cole had already done that work for him. The man had been so paranoid about someone hearing him with Alicent that he had pushed the guards far away from their usual room, completely forgetting about Helaena’s chambers.

Oh, I can’t wait to see his face when he sees Luke’s message.

Ser Arryk made his way through the Keep toward the Queen’s chambers. It didn’t take him long to notice the suspicious lack of guards. His brows furrowed and he drew his sword before he’d even stepped into the last corridor. When he saw the total absence of guards at Helaena’s door, he all but ran to it. Ser Arryk threw open the door, images of lifeless bodies strewn over the floor bursting in his head like YiTish fire-flowers.

The stillness of the room made him stop. He glowered around, taking in the dying fire and the human-shaped lumps under the sheets. Vermax saw his worry and suspicion fade a little.

Well, I can’t have that.

He sidled to Ser Arryk and whispered the idea. Again, the man’s brain proved difficult to sway. It was no surprise. Rules of etiquette had been drilled into him before he could talk. The idea of pushing back the curtains of a queen’s bed was almost as unthinkable to him as throwing off his armour and dancing naked on the throne.

At last, just as Ser Arryk turned away and Vermax whispered it for the fifth time, Ser Arryk sighed and went to Helaena’s bed. He would just take a quick look to be sure and then leave.

So, he parted the curtain just an inch. Just an inch was enough. Vermax pushed down one of the logs, making them spark and shine a flicker of heightened light into the gap. In that flicker of light, Ser Arryk saw the mask. He tugged back the curtain further, exposing the Lord Velaryon mask on the pillow, the bundled clothes beneath the sheets and Luke’s letter addressed to Alicent on top of them.

Pure panic exploded on Ser Arryk’s face. He whirled to the childrens’ beds and found the same mask and bundled clothes. He wasted not another second. He rushed to the door and bellowed, “GUARDS! GUARDS! WHERE ARE THE GUARDS?"

He rushed through the corridor and stood at the top of the large staircase, screaming at the top of his lungs, “ARE THERE ANY FUCKING GUARDS IN THIS FUCKING KEEP?”

Vermax started to laugh. With his hair shorn and his face red, he looked utterly mad. Any minute now and he’d start waving his arms and jumping on the spot. He laughed even harder when Cole stormed out of Rhaenyra’s old room, fully dressed and furious, “Have you taken leave of your senses, Ser Arryk? Stop that noise this instant!”

Vermax didn’t need his ribbons to know that Alicent was hiding in that room, likely praying no one would question Cole’s presence.

“WHERE IN SEVEN HELLS ARE THE GUARDS?” Ser Arryk shouted back, “THE QUEEN’S BEEN TAKEN! AND HER CHILDREN!”

Cole stumbled back as if struck with a heavy mace, “Wh - what? The queen? Taken? By who? And - Ser, has your hair been - ”

“NEVER MIND MY FUCKING HAIR! WHERE WERE THE GUARDS WHEN THIS HAPPENED? WHY WERE THEY NOT AT THEIR POSTS?”

Cole couldn’t think of a single thing to say. He could only open and close his mouth like a fish on a hook. He was spared responding, however, when a contingent of guards finally rushed in from another corridor.

Ser Arryk charged down the stairs, “If you don’t believe me, Lord Commander, go and look for yourself! Guards, come here! The Queen and her children have been abducted from their chamber! You, rouse His Grace and inform him! You, alert the Hand and the Dowager Queen! You, raise the small council!”

“Hold!” Cole finally recovered his wits and shouted over Ser Arryk, “No one is doing anything until I’ve seen what’s happened for myself! Have you all forgotten who’s the Lord Commander? Ser Arryk, take me to the queen’s chambers at once. And, I ask again, what happened to your hair?”

Vermax could see Ser Arryk thinking that, if anyone else asked him about his hair, he would throw them out of the nearest window. He saw him pushing down all the other violent thoughts about Cole and lead him toward Helaena’s chambers.

Vermax lingered a moment at the top of the staircase. Just as he expected, he saw Alicent creep from the room, hood over her hair and her white face. Once she saw the coast was clear, she took off toward the Tower of the Hand like a rabbit from her hole. Giggling to himself, Vermax returned to Cole just in time to see him discover the empty beds.

Then, all hell properly broke loose. Cole turned to the guards and began shouting commands, “Someone rouse His Grace! Someone call up the Hand and the small council! The rest of you, search the Keep!”

“What about Prince Aemond?” Ser Arryk put in, visibly pushing aside all annoyance at Cole, “Ser Rickard told me he was out. Do you know if he’s returned? And where he might be if he hasn’t?”

Cole swore loudly. Vermax could see him cursing himself for not thinking of Aemond first, “I will go out and fetch him myself if he is not in his chambers. Ser Arryk, stay here and direct the search.”

#

SYLVI

She knew it would be a bad night the moment she saw the prince. Sure enough, the moment he had curled up in her lap, he started a tirade against Cole that went on and on for almost an hour.

“He did not even consider it! Surely, a Queen needs her own royal protector, as does the King’s heirs. Even you would agree with me on that.”

“I would.” Sylvi said, ignoring the insinuation on her intelligence. She pushed the now-tepid milk toward him but he didn’t touch it.

“He even laughed at me. He f - he laughed at me for being worried about Helaena’s safety.”

She could hear the edge of tears in his voice. Oh, dear. This is going to be another marchpane night.

Careful not to make any sudden movements, she reached under the bed and pulled out a wood box painted red with faded golden swirls. Affecting a casual air, she placed it before Prince Aemond and opened it, revealing it to be full of golden marchpane.

Without a word, Aemond took a piece and stuffed it whole into his mouth.

Thank the gods that shipment came through before the blockade started.

Aemond swallowed and took another piece, “I keep having the same dreams. I keep seeing little Jaehaerys’ head being sawn off with a dagger while Helaena and Jaehaera flee. I see Jaehaerys’ funeral procession with Helaena and Mother riding behind on a wagon. They paraded his body through the streets of King’s Landing, denouncing Rhaenyra. They used his body as a tool against our enemies. Gods!” He shrank into himself further, squashing the marchpane in his fist, “And, when the cart got stuck, I felt sure his head would fall. They sewed it back on for the procession but I could see it wobbling.”

“That’s enough.” Sylvi soothed, pushing down the urge to be sick, “You shouldn’t dwell on such awful things.” She edged the marchpane box a little closer, “You look thin and ill. Food is scarce all over the city but I would have thought they’d feed you better in the Keep.”

“I’ve not been eating.” Aemond mumbled, “I don’t have the stomach for it.”

Even as he said it, he stuffed the squashed marchpane piece into his mouth. Then, another. And, another.

Oh, gods, I’m going to need a bigger box. 

“But the worst thing was how I reacted to it all.” Aemond mumbled, mouth full of marchpane, “I was happy that Daemon feared me enough to send assassins to kill me in my bed. Because those murderers were sent to kill me. I was out so they decided Jaehaerys would be a good substitute. I was actually happy. I only cared about being feared by Daemon. I didn’t care for my sister’s pain or for the children.”

“But you don’t feel that way now, do you?” Sylvi soothed.

“No. No, I don’t. But - if it were to happen, would I become that wretch?”

That was unusual. Aemond liked to pour out his soul and never liked to ask for her opinion on it. She could venture it in her most sugarcoated terms but it was always a risk.

“No. I don’t think you will.”

She meant it too. If he had asked Sylvi that before King Viserys died, she would needed to watch her tongue and give a veiled response. The man lying in her lap, stuffing his face with sweets, had changed in these last few months. He’d become less arrogant, less blinkered and ultimately better.

Maybe, these strange dreams are doing him some good, even if it doesn’t feel like it for him.

As Aemond took his sixth piece of marchpane, the curtain was pulled back. Lucy appeared with a grave look on her face. The fact that Lucy would interrupt alone was cause for concern enough. That look made Sylvi sure it was something grave.

“Yes? What is it, Lucy?”

“Sorry to disturb, Sylvi,” She said in her high child-like voice reserved for the public, “but there’s a man out there, waiting for the prince.”

Aemond roused himself from his marchpane stupour and looked up, “What sort of man?” He asked.

Lucy spread her short arms out, “Well, that’s the thing, my Prince. He’s wearing a mask and a cloak and he doesn’t talk. He writes down what he wants to say. He says he’s willing to wait for you to finish but, well,” She frowned, “he’s been there half an hour and he’s making our other guests nervous.”

Sylvi didn’t blame them. There could only be one reason a person would wait without partaking in Mother’s pleasures for that long: they were looking for trouble.

“Have Albert and Ernest escort him to the roof gardens.” Sylvi said, keeping her voice soft, “And, serve him golden apple wine. I’m sure he’ll find that much more pleasant.”

Lucy nodded, her face unreadable. ‘Golden apple wine’ was their codeword for ‘summon the goldcloaks’. Whoever it was, they needed to be cleared away without a fuss. Thanks to the back staircase leading to the roof gardens, the goldcloaks wouldn’t even need to enter Mother’s and disturb the other guests.

“No.” Aemond suddenly straightened, “I will go and see what he wants.”

“Come now, there’s no need for that.” Sylvi cooed, “No need for you to leave on some stranger’s account.”

And no need to potentially start a fight under my roof.

Aemond shook his head and reached for his clothes. Sylvi knew pushing further wouldn’t do any good. Instead, she pulled her robe closed and peeped out through the curtains.

She knew who Lucy meant the moment she saw him. He sat alone amongst the couches and cushions, eyes fixed on the chamber. And, those eyes caught Sylvi’s attention the most. Bright blue and almost seeming to glow in the soft candlelight. Nothing else of him was visible. A pearly white mask with a ridge of red horns covered his face, a silvery cloak covered his hair and his blue clothes looked thick and sturdy.

A little too well-off to be an ordinary mummer. It could one of the new King’s pranks. Or someone from the Alchemist’s Guild. All of them are a bit funny in the head. Either way, he doesn’t look like much of a fighter but, still, looks can be deceiving. I’m not taking any chances.

She gestured with a finger at Lucy while Aemond’s back was turned. At once, Lucy disappeared into the crowd as only she could to fetch Albert and Ernest. The two well-muscled men had once worked in quarries and both could heft a full-grown man over their heads. They often needed to when one of Sylvi’s guests had too much wine and decided to fight over the bill. The both of them would be more than a match for this strange-eyed man if it came to it.

Once Aemond was clothed, he swept aside the curtain without a word to Sylvi. As soon as he appeared, the stranger stood. Silence did not fall but the noise in the main room dropped dramatically. When Sylvi slipped out, she could see eyes turning towards him. The unattended girls bunched together, sensing danger as much as Sylvi did. The others huddled close to their customers, hoping for their protection. The sober men stared at the stranger and even the drunk ones looked around in confusion, wondering why things had turned solemn. The dancers and musicians valiantly continued their sultry performance but Sylvi saw their eyes darting to the stranger whenever they could get away with it.

People parted to let Aemond walk to the stranger. That one-eyed glare would be enough to turn a man’s blood cold but the stranger held his ground, looking Aemond right in the face.

“I was told you have been waiting for me.” Aemond said into the muted air, “What is your business?”

Then, the stranger did something Sylvi could never have expected. He reached out a hand and held out a white mask to Aemond. At first, Sylvi thought it was a copy of his own mask but then she noticed key differences. And, she recognised it.

I’ve seen people in those masks going around outside. And heard about it from the guests too. I thought they were part of some mummer’s troupe.

After a moment, Aemond took it. The stranger then inclined his head respectfully to Aemond and, without another pause, departed. The eyes of the whole establishment followed him out. The silence left in his wake seemed to expand even after the door closed behind him.

Was that it? He waits half an hour just to give the prince a mask?

As odd as this was, Sylvi still had a few hours of business left. She clapped her hands twice and called to the dancers, “Girls, the Braavosi dance!”

The girls and musicians switched at once to a more lively dance with the dancers jumping on tables and delivering high kicks. The men cheered and started to forget about the masked man. Sylvi thought things would go back to normal. She turned back to Aemond to invite him back into bed - and saw him staring in wide-eyed shock at the inside of the mask.

Sylvi saw something written there, along with a little paper scroll in Aemond’s other hand. She tried to read the scroll but, as she did, Aemond charged from the building, nearly knocking over one of the dancing girls.

Once again, the mood started to turn. But, thank the gods, a few more high kicks and musical flourishes stopped it souring entirely.

“What was that about?” Lucy asked, forgetting to use her child-voice for a moment and sounding more like the adult in a stunted body that she was.

“Whatever it is, it’s not our problem anymore.” Sylvi said, “Come on, help me get the room ready for the next guest.”

Lucy wasted no time in picking up the untouched milk and heading for the back door. The street cats would get a big treat tonight.

“Sylvi.” One of the girls hurried up to her before she could pull aside the curtain again, “The masked man asked you to give me this after he left.”

Sylvi took the offered scroll with a frown. Was that masked man going to allow her to relax for one moment? She slipped back into the room under the pretense of setting it up for the next customer. She broke the silver seal and read the short message.

‘To Sylvi, respected proprietress of Mother’s, greetings

I have worked together with the White Worm to leave a gift for you and your girls behind the back door. This first delivery is free. The next will require payment in either money, favours or secrets.

Your humble servant,
Lord Velaryon’

Sylvi stowed away the message and set up the room like nothing had happened. Only when she had beckoned a guest and a girl inside with a smile did she act. She gestured to Albert and Ernest and moved toward the back door with the two giant men behind her.

She had expected an ambush at the back door. She had expected a gang of thieves to try and storm the brothel. The last she heard, the White Worm was dead in a fire. She had a feeling that rumour had been exaggerated. People like the White Worm were hard to kill, after all, but it paid to be cautious.

What she never could have expected in the world was a large crate full of fresh food. Enough to keep her and her girls fed for a week. Lucy gave a small gasp at her side. Even now, Lucy could always sneak up on her.

“How in seven hells did he get this here without us knowing?”

“A good question.” Sylvi closed the box again, “Don’t tell anyone about this yet. Not until I get a better idea on who this Lord Velaryon is and if his word can be trusted.”

And, whether he really is from the White Worm or not.

“Want me to sweep the floor?” Lucy asked.

“You read my mind.” Sylvi smiled.

Within Mother’s, ‘sweep the floor’ meant ‘listen in and gather information’. Something Lucy with her small stature and her talent for making everyone think her a simpleton was perfect for.

Chapter Text

AEMOND

‘Next time you want to convince Cole to do something, tell him it will reflect badly on him. That is the only thing that matters to him.’

The moment Aemond read it on the mask, his blood had gone cold. The masked man must have overheard his conversation with Sylvi. And, if he heard that, he must have heard everything else he confessed.

Then, he read the note tied with a ribbon slid through the eyeholes.

‘Meet me in Vhagar’s field. I’ll show you mine once I’ve seen yours.’

He did not know what that meant. He didn’t waste time thinking about it. He simply ran out of Mother’s and ran to his horse. He heard Ser Willis shouting behind him but he had no time to explain. Ser Willis would simply have to catch up later. The only thing that mattered was to get to the masked man and keep him silent, no matter what.

He jumped onto his horse and pushed it into a gallop. Fog seeped through the buildings as he rode through the streets. By the time he reached the King’s Gate, it had thickened to the point he could barely see five feet in front of him.

But, that wasn’t going to stop him. He knew his way to Vhagar so well that he thought he could ride to her with his eye shut. So, he rode into the gloom without hesitation.

It was a good thing that the horse knew the way better than Aemond. Just as Aemond realised that he couldn’t see a thing in front of him, a light appeared in the distance. His horse began to slow. As his hoofbeats faded, he heard the distinct low rumbling of Vhagar’s call.

Maybe, Vhagar will do the job of dealing with that stranger for me.

Aemond and his horse reached the light. He found it to be a bright lantern hanging from the end of a long shepherd’s crook. That crook had been stuck into the ground about an arm’s length away from the path. A moth fluttered about it as Aemond stared into the gloom.

Then, Vhagar’s great maw appeared from the fog. She gave a low rumbling noise as she sniffed Aemond’s head. Aemond spied movement out of the corner of his eye. There, about three feet away, stood the masked man. He had his arm raised and -

And, he was caressing Vhagar’s scales.

Aemond could only blink in surprise. Vhagar never let anyone but him get so close, let alone touch her. She wouldn’t even tolerate the presence of dragonkeepers.

The masked man lowered his arm and raised what looked like a pile of papers attached to a wooden case. He pulled out a piece of charcoal and began to write. Once he was done, he turned the paper around and held it out under the lantern light so Aemond could read it.

‘She is a magnificent beast. You are most fortunate to have claimed her, Prince Aemond.’

His writing is tidy. So, he is not some lowborn in a mummer’s costume.

“You are fortunate your admiration for Vhagar didn’t end in you burned to ashes.” Aemond said, keeping his voice level and his ears open for anyone trying to sneak up on him from the murk, “But, I do not think you came here simply to admire my dragon and flatter me.”

‘That is true. I will be frank then - I asked you to meet me here because I think you may know of the horrors to come.’

Aemond frowned. He knew he must not be taken in by his words. He knew this was likely some trap - and, yet, if he spoke true, perhaps, he might be able to make sense of all his nightmares at last.

“Any fool knows that war is upon us, whether the small council and the pretender wish it or not.”

‘But, do they know of Prince Jacaerys dying in the waters of the Gullet in an attempt to save his youngest brother? Do they know of Prince Jaehaerys slain in his bed by two fiends while Helaena fled for her life with Jaehaera? Do they know of the dragonpit stormed and the dragons slain by an angry mob of smallfolk?’

Aemond could only stand, mouth slightly open in surprise. He had taken Sylvi for a woman of discretion. He did not think that she would sell his secrets to a stranger. He reached for his sword and started to draw it.

“How long have you been spying on me? How long have you been listening to private conferences? How long has Sylvi been in your employ?”

The masked man hurried to write his response before Aemond’s sword fully emerged, ‘I do not need to listen to private conferences. I saw them in dreams as I believe you did.’

Aemond halted, point of the sword still within the scabbard, “You have no way of proving that.”

‘Put me to the test. Ask me about one thing you have not told anyone else. If I answer false, strike me down. If I answer true, sheathe your sword.’

Aemond scoffed, “Do you really think you can trick me into an unearned confidence?”

The masked man stood still for a moment. Then, an idea seemed to strike him and he began to write. When he turned the paper around, Aemond read.

‘I know you did not intend Lucerys’ death. You lost control of Vhagar after Lucerys lost control of Arrax over Shipbreaker Bay. It was an accident. You only meant to scare him. You did not wish for his death.’

Aemond had to read it twice to fully take it in. Then, little by little, he slid his sword back into its sheath. He had told Sylvi that he regretted ‘that business with Luke’. He had said he’d lost his temper. Not once, however, had he admitted that he had lost control of Vhagar and hadn’t meant for Luke to die at the time. He had only ever implied that he regretted it in hindsight.

“What do you intend to do with that information? If you intend to blackmail me, I can assure you that you will not be believed.”

‘And I assure you I have no intention of making this public knowledge. As you say, your allies will not believe me and it would change nothing anyway. What I care about is what can be changed and who can be saved.’

Aemond stared hard into the man’s eyes. They were large and almost luminescent in the lantern light. He tried to find a hint of falsehood in them but he found none.

“Who are you? Why do you hide your face?”

‘You may call me Lord Velaryon. Lord Corlys allowed me to borrow his title for now.’

“And, why would he do such a thing? Why give away something so priceless to a stranger?”

‘Is it so priceless? It did not spare Lord Corlys from grief heaped upon grief. Your brother may be enjoying his new title but it will not last. Second sons are quite fortunate to be spared the burden of inheritance and to have the freedom to make their own way. If only they had the sense to know it.’

Aemond felt his temper flare. He opened his mouth to argue how much better suited he would be to the Iron Throne - and then remembered how much of a mess of things he would make as King Regent. His retort died on his tongue.

Lord Velaryon stood still, not once looking away from Aemond. Aemond tried to find any derision in those eyes but, again, found nothing.

“If Lord Corlys gave you his title, then you have come from Dragonstone.”

Lord Velaryon nodded and wrote, ‘I have not come here looking for a fight. On the contrary, I have come to do all I can to avoid one if I can.’

Aemond’s anger gave way to uncertainty and an uncomfortable awkwardness. He almost didn’t want to say what he said next but when would he get another chance to speak so frankly of all he had seen in his dreams?

“All of Mother’s and Rhaenyra’s attempts to avoid war came to nothing. What makes you think you can succeed? What - what makes you think the future can be changed?”

Lord Velaryon’s eyes softened, ‘Because, it has not yet come and I see a change in you already. You are not the person you would have become. I am pleased to see it.’

Aemond felt something warm building in his chest. It felt more reassuring to hear it from Lord Velaryon. Sylvi only said he would not become that fiend because he paid her to. Lord Velaryon, however, looked earnest and certain.

‘I believe you may have had the same help as me though you do not know it. These visions were given to me by the Valyrian gods. They showed me both visions of the future and the past. Was it the same with you? Did you see Rhaenyra and Alicent’s past when they were close friends before Alicent married your father?’

If anyone else had come to Aemond and spoken of Valyrian gods giving visions, he might have laughed in their faces. Now, he gave it serious consideration. Perhaps, it was simply Lord Velaryon’s calm presence. Perhaps, it was because the fog all around them made it seem as if they had stepped out of the real world for a moment. Perhaps, it was those gentle blue eyes that pierced and peeled away Aemond’s defences more completely than a sword.

Lord Velaryon took his silence for assent, ‘Many misunderstandings and many foolish decisions led to this moment. With the gifts the gods have given me, I may be able to undo them and save you all. Yes, even you and Aegon, if Aegon has the sense to save himself too.’

Aemond again felt a wall of awkwardness between him and what he wanted to say. When he pushed through it, the words came out embarrassingly ill-worded, “And, what makes you think it can be changed - at this stage, it seems - I tried to talk to Helaena about them. I know now that she sees visions of the future. I tried - I thought we could change things - that the visions were a warning. But, she said she’d tried too and failed every time. I tried too and it never worked. Earlier, when I told Cole that they needed protection, he laughed at me.”

Lord Velaryon nodded as if this was all very understandable, 'It seems the gods change their minds as easily and quickly as the wind. Some of them have a very questionable sense of humour too. Speaking of which, have you seen a raven with golden banded legs at any point?’

Aemond started in shock, “Yes. I saw it in - in a dream of Harrenhal.”

‘That is Vermax. Be careful of him if you meet him again and, if he offers you a favour, always ask what he wants in return. He never forgets a debt.'

Is it my fate to be constantly toyed with? Aemond thought, And, it isn’t just gods who are toying with me. Is he haunted by ghosts as well?

Aemond almost asked. But, then, Lord Velaryon dipped his head down to write something else and Aemond decided against it.

‘I wonder, have you met with Alys Rivers in any of your dreams?’

“Yes.” Aemond felt once again wrong-footed by such openness, “Twice.”

‘That’s one more time than me. She has an enviable talent. It would much easier if I could talk to people in their dreams. It seems that she and your sister, Helaena, are two of four people who know how the Dance of the Dragons would have played out. I’m sure you hope it stays that way as much as I do.’

Aemond frowned, “What do you mean, ‘would have played out’? What have you done?”

At that moment, the sound of bells ringing through the night reached him. Aemond glanced back. He could see the faint lights of the city. The fog rendered everything else invisible but he thought he could see lights moving fast.

He looked back to find Lord Velaryon had written something else, ‘It looks like our time is up. They’re coming for me.’

“Why?” Aemond’s hand found his sword hilt again.

Lord Velaryon shuffled back a page and pointed at the phrase ‘I have not come here looking for a fight.’ Then, he added, ‘I’ve made my first moves toward a more peaceable resolution though I don’t think your brother and his court will see it that way. Just know that there was nothing personal in what I have done. I have only done what I need to achieve victory with as little blood spilled as possible.’

Aemond tried to ask why again but his question was cut off by a low growl behind him. Vhagar slowly turned her head and glared into the shadows, added her own menacing growl to the new one.

Nothing appeared at first. Then, a great brown scaled snout with a great scar slashed across the front appeared in the lantern light. Aemond could just see a dragon’s blazing eye almost hidden in the fog and he felt the ground shake as the new dragon stepped forward.

Vhagar opened her mouth and gave a warning roar that made Aemond’s ribs shake. The new dragon returned it, its teeth glistening and flames burning in its throat.

Before Aemond could think, Lord Velaryon held up a hand. He didn’t speak a command but, slowly, the new dragon closed its mouth. Vhagar, too, seemed to think this was not a worthy fight. She did not close her mouth all the way but she fell silent.

Lord Velaryon met Aemond’s astonished eye and gave him a dignified nod. With that, he turned and walked toward the new dragon.

Aemond knew he ought to race to Vhagar’s saddle nets. He ought to mount Vhagar and give chase.

But, a more rational voice in his mind told him that the fog was too thick for a chase. It was more than likely that he would lose his bearings and collide with the Red Keep. And, even if he could give chase, Lord Velaryon would be returning to Dragonstone. There, Rhaenyra’s dragons would set upon him the moment they saw him.

So, he stood still and watched as Lord Velaryon disappeared into the fog. A few moments later, the new dragon backed away too. So, through the vibrations in the ground, Aemond felt rather than saw the great beast take flight and depart.

Vhagar at once dropped her head back into the undergrowth and seemed not to give the encounter another thought. Aemond, however, had almost too much to think about.

Which dragon was that? It looked almost as big as Vhagar. It must be…Vermithor. The Old King’s dragon.

But, how did he claim it? Is he a dragonseed like the two turncloaks and Addam of Hull? He is not Hugh Hammer, that is certain. He is too small for that.

He claims to win without bloodshed. Is he naive or a fool? He will surely fail in that regard in any case.

And, what does he mean by ‘making his moves’ and that what he did isn’t personal?

A shout came through the fog. Then, the thundering of hooves rushed towards him. Vhagar huffed in annoyance at this new interruption. Aemond, for his part, felt as if he’d been forced back into the world. The strange space Lord Velaryon had inhabited, that seemed apart from everything else, disappeared and he was back in the field outside King’s Landing.

More shouts came. This time, Aemond could make out their voices. It was Ser Criston and Ser Willis, calling his name in a panic. Vhagar answered their shouts with a low snarl.

“I’m here, Sers.” Aemond called, “Enough of that noise. You’re disturbing Vhagar.”

At last, two horses burst through the fog and into the pool of lantern light. Both knights jumped off their horses and ran to him. 

“Oh, thank the gods!” Ser Willis gasped. He sounded almost as if he were on the verge of tears from relief, “Are you hurt? Did the masked man attack you? Forgive me, my Prince. I tried to follow you but then, the fog descended and - ”

“Where did he go?” Cole demanded, cutting across Ser Willis’ flood of words, “Did you see where the masked man went?”

“He flew away.” Aemond said. When Cole looked confused, he added with some annoyance, “On a dragon. But, before you ask any more questions, tell me why you both look so distressed. It cannot be on my account alone.”

“No.” Cole’s frown deepened for a moment, as if struggling to put it into words, “The Queen has been taken. Along with His Grace’s children.”

Aemond’s thoughts jammed for a moment, “Taken? Just taken? Not…hurt?”

Cole frowned, likely wondering why Aemond would ask such a thing first, “As far as I can tell. There were no signs of a struggle in the room. I’ll tell you on the way back. Come, let’s get you back to the Keep. The Dowager Queen will be glad to know you are safe.”

#

The foggy field outside the city had been peaceful. It made coming back to a Red Keep in chaos all the more jarring. Lord and ladies in their nightclothes huddled together into courtyards. Children cried in fear. Dogs sniffed pillows from Helaena’s chambers, trying to find a scent of the kidnappers. Guards ran hither and thither, seemingly with no idea where to go or what to do other than look busy.

Indeed, there was nothing to be done. Helaena and the children had vanished without a trace from their rooms. All that had been left behind, as far as Aemond knew, were clothes stuffed into their beds and three more Lord Velaryon masks left like a token.

Aemond could scarce believe it. He felt torn between shock and joy at the news.

Jaehaerys is still alive. They’re all alive. Lord Velaryon changed their fate.

Cole and Ser Willis bundled Aemond up to the small council chamber. Before he had reached the door, he heard raised voices.

“…could have come and gone without being seen?”

“Who was on duty in this corridor? His Grace should have their eyes out. Clearly, they weren’t using them anyway!”

“If you don’t stop shouting, I’ll have you all hanged for giving me a headache!”

When Aemond entered, he found the small council all fully dressed and standing around the table. Alicent turned a white face to him and gave a small sob, “Oh, thank the gods!”

“You picked a poor time to go gallivanting around the city, grandson.” Otto said in a low, furious voice, “Our enemy has struck at us within the very walls of the Red Keep. And, what took the Lord Commander so long to find you?””

He moved away from the table to direct his glare at Cole and, only then, did Aemond see the masks placed there.

“Ser Willis lost him in the fog.” Cole said, glaring sideways at an outraged Ser Willis, “And it seems this masked man didn’t act alone. It seems he has many agents within the city and they left many false trails to confuse us.”

“What do you mean, many agents within the city?” Otto snapped, “Are you trying to tell me that our enemy’s agents are swarming over the place and neither the goldcloaks nor Lord Larys noticed? I find that be very far-fetched indeed. And where is Lord Larys? I sent someone to fetch him an hour ago!”

Aemond could not remember a time when Otto had ever lost his composure to such a degree. Not even in the vision where Otto confronted Aegon over hanging the ratcatchers.

He looked around and caught sight of Ser Arryk standing with Ser Rickard. Unlike the others, Ser Arryk was wearing his helmet.

He saw his mother standing by her chair, twisting her fingers into knots. He also spotted an open letter lying next to her with a broken silver seal.

“What is that?” Aemond asked.

“It was found in Helaena’s room.” Alicent pushed it into his hands and allowed him to read.

To the dowager Queen Alicent, wife to the late Viserys, the First of his Name, greetings.

You do not know me but I know you. I know you have often said that you yearned for a time when honour and decency would prevail. I am happy to say that that time has arrived. I have interceded on behalf of your daughter and her children and have persuaded King Consort Daemon against his original plans for them.

I can assure you that all will be safe on Dragonstone for the time being and that Queen Rhaenyra considers the debt incurred by Prince Aemond settled for the moment. However, should the Queen be given provocation by means of an attack on her allies or on her home, I cannot guarantee that I will be able to save them a second time. If you wish for Princess Helaena’s safe return, the Queen is willing to exchange her for you surrender and acknowledgment of Rhaenyra as the rightful queen. Prince Aemond. Vhagar need not accompany him. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera will remain on Dragonstone and, in time, will serve as my cupbearer and squire.

Consider their safety and consider the safety of your sons should you and your father continue on the dangerous path you tread. Queen Rhaenyra is still willing to forgive them all and take them back into her heart (even the Prince Aemond) as there is no one more accursed than a kinslayer.

I am your humble servant,
Lord Velaryon

“It is not Lord Corlys’ hand.” Otto said, “Nor is it his manner of writing.”

“It isn’t Lord Corlys.” Aemond said, “Even with his mask, I know that much.”

He gave a vague sketch of their meeting in the field. He did not say what they spoke of but gave the impression that he had said much the same as he had in Alicent’s letter.

“Lord Corlys let him borrow his title? What nonsense!” Lord Jasper shook his head, “I’ve never heard of such a thing. I certainly wouldn’t have thought Lord Corlys would consider such a thing.”

“And, how in seven hells did he claim a dragon?” Ser Tyland asked, “I can’t think of any male dragonless Targaryens and the only female one is the Lady Rhaena…Prince Aemond, might this Lord Velaryon be a woman in disguise?”

Aemond frowned in thought. Lord Velaryon had been smaller and slighter than him. His instincts told him it was a man in truth but he could not be sure, “I am sure it is not the Lady Rhaena but, perhaps, we are limiting ourselves too much.” Aemond chose his words carefully, as if the idea were only just occurring to him, “We all know that only those with Valyrian blood can bend dragons to their will but…perhaps, dragons do not distinguish between the trueborn and bastard-born.”

The idea sank into the silence. Then, Aegon gave a hollow laugh, “Well, that was already proven, wasn’t it? So was Rhaenyra’s love of bastards.”

“And, you say the dragon was brown?” Otto put in, “And very large?”

Aemond nodded. Otto pressed his lips to his steepled fingers, looking disconcerted, “It must be Vermithor, the Old King’s dragon and the second largest living dragon.”

The implications of that rippled around the small council chamber.

“And, these terms he offers are only another one of his efforts to defeat us without bloodshed. If he imprisons Prince Aemond alive, Vhagar will not take another rider. She will become nothing more than a drain on our livestock and certainly will be no use to us in battle.”

Aemond saw the logic in that at once. And he almost admired the cruel elegance of it.

They would have defeated Vhagar without ever having to fight her. A good attempt, Lord Velaryon.

“So,” Aegon clapped his hands and gave them an over-bright smile, “in short, the blacks lost a dragon but they’ve gained a bigger one. They’ve taken my Queen and my heirs hostage, they’ve got agents swarming all over the place like rats and Lord Borros has fucked off with his men to deal with a Vulture King. Well, Aemond, I hope Lady Floris is pretty because I can’t see what else we’ve gained out of your trip to Storm’s End.”

Aemond gripped his thighs so hard that he almost raised bruises. His eye fell on the masks sitting on the table again. Only now did he notice the items sitting next to some of them. A rabble cyvasse piece sat next to Aegon’s, a king piece sat next to Otto’s, a seven-pointed star necklace with a missing jewel sat next to Alicent’s and a mask hung on the corner of the map along with a Kingsguard cloak soiled with soot and ash.

Right next to where Cole stood in the Lord Commander’s position.

The other three masks did not have any additions but they did each have red ink painted across the left temple. As if the face was bleeding from the left side.

“Where were these masks discovered? Were they here when you arrived or somewhere else?”

“They were left here for us to find.” Otto told him, “He thinks to mock us with this prank, no doubt. One of his men must have left this while another captured the Queen and heirs. We must question every guard and servant, right down to the lowliest scullion. This infestation must be scorched out of these halls.”

Aemond looked at the masks again, “I wonder…he may be trying to convey a deeper message.” He pointed to Aegon’s mask, “Rabble.” He pointed to Otto, “King.”

Otto blinked, his expression becoming fixed. Aegon only snorted, “Thinks he’s clever for pointing that out, does he?”

Aemond then pointed to Alicent’s mask, “Damaged faith.” Alicent still looked pale and she would not look up to meet anyone’s eye. 

Aemond then pointed to Ser Criston, “Soiled cloak.” Ser Criston gave the slightest bristle at that but said nothing.

“As for the other masks, I do not know what the red ink means. But, is there any message on the other side of the mask?”

By the blank looks from everyone but Ser Arryk, no one seemed to have thought of that. At once, Aegon eagerly turned his mask over and his eyes widened, “Fuck me, there is! Bring me a candle! Let’s see…’Puppets wearing crowns can cut their strings and even the most loyal hound turns when you beat it too often’…the fuck does that mean?”

Everyone else turned over their masks. Otto, Alicent and Cole, however, did not share what was written. Aemond only had their changing expressions to read.

Ser Tyland, Lord Jasper and Maester Orwyle read theirs and then leaned over to compare them. The reason why soon became apparent when Ser Tyland said, “Ours all say the same thing: ‘watch your back, mind your head’.”

Aemond could see comprehension dawning on the faces around him. Then, he saw everyone’s eyes turning toward Cole.

What does that mean? What’s Cole done?

The only people who seemed as ignorant as Aemond were the other Kingsguard. He saw Ser Rickard and Ser Arryk exchange an uncertain look. Then, he noticed Ser Arryk holding a mask and a clean cloak.

“Ser Arryk, did you pick up that mask and cloak here too?”

“No, my Prince. It was left outside the throne room. Whoever left it there lured me away from His Grace - “

“And, show Aemond what he did!” Aegon crowed, “Go on!”

Ser Arryk looked like he would rather cut his sword hand off. But, a moment later, he pulled off his helmet and revealed his hair. It had been shorn off at jaw level at an uneven angle, leaving a few strands on the left side of his head hanging like a rat’s tail.

Aegon snorted with laughter. To their credit, no one else joined in.

“This person just chopped off your hair?” Aemond asked, “Did he not fight you?”

“No, my Prince. He just grabbed my hair and chopped it off. He vanished before I could face him.”

“A strange thing to do.” Aemond muttered, “If such a person managed to get so close to His Grace, why would they strike at you? Why would they not incapacitate you and proceed to the King?”

“I know not, my Prince. He left this note along with the mask.” He held up a small scrap of paper, “It says, ‘hold still, I’m saving your life’.”

“Let me see that.” Otto took it from Ser Arryk and laid it beside the mask. He drew the letter closer too. He examined them for a moment and then nodded, “These are all written in the same hand.”

“But why did you leave your post in the first place?” Cole snapped suddenly at Ser Arryk, “How could you allow yourself to be lured away so easily? And why were you there rather than guarding the Queen?”

“I was not assigned to guard her, Lord Commander.” Ser Arryk replied, stung, “As far as I can tell, the Queen was assigned no royal protector at all. Why was that allowed to happen, Lord Commander?”

The whole room sucked in a breath. Half the small council looked away as if praying to be anywhere but there. Aegon leaned forward as if he were watching an interesting melee at the tourney.

“And, you gave no thought to the Queen’s safety?” Cole retorted, “You did not think to go upstairs. May I remind this council that your brother is a thief and a traitor to the Crown? How do I know that you do not secretly share his sin?”

The words sparked a recollection of one of Aemond’s visions.

He said the same just before he sent Ser Arryk to Dragonstone to die at the hands of his brother.

Aemond’s eye drifted to Ser Arryk’s shorn hair, ‘Hold still, I’m saving your life’.

But, now, he cannot impersonate his twin. Well played, indeed, Lord Velaryon.

Far from losing his temper, Ser Arryk too seemed to suddenly understand something. He raised the mask in his hand and, in a very calm voice, asked, “Do you want to know what other message Lord Velaryon left for me, Lord Commander?”

He spun the mask around and let Cole see the underside. Cole’s face went from red to white as fast as a turned cloak. He snatched the mask from Ser Arryk’s hand, crossed the room and flung it into the fire.

On a strange but strong impulse, Aemond leapt out his chair and dashed to the fireplace. Before the flames could catch it, he rescued the mask.

“My prince, they are nothing but a traitor’s words, not be marked.”

Aemond ignored Cole. He spun the mask around and read aloud, “‘He will blame you for his failure’.”

A taut silence followed. Broken only by an, “Oh, shit,” from Aegon.

Aemond faced Cole. He teetered on the point of no return. He wondered whether this was the right choice, whether Cole really deserved it and whether it would be worth losing his friendship forever. But, then, he remembered Cole laughing in his face and decided it was worth it.

“It seems Lord Velaryon has the measure of you, Cole. Do you want to hear what my mask’s message is? ‘Next time you want to convince Cole to do something, tell him it will reflect badly on him. That is the only thing that matters to him.’”

“Oh, shit.” Aegon repeated.

“I am sure you recall our conversation mere hours ago, Cole. That I pointed out that my sister and her children should be assigned a royal protector and that we should be wary of anyone sneaking into the Keep to take revenge? I am sure you also recall that you laughed in my face when I said so.”

“Oh, shit.” Aegon repeated again.

Cole looked as stunned and betrayed as he did when Rhaenyra rejected his marriage proposal. Aemond would be lying if he said he did not feel a twinge of guilt at that but it was too late to backtrack now. He would see this through, no matter how he felt.

“Your Grace,” He turned to Aegon, “I believe the appointment of Cole as Lord Commander was a little premature. Perhaps, it would be best to give the title to someone with better judgment and better priorities.”

Aegon just blinked in shock as if Aemond had donned one of Alicent’s gowns and done a jig. Otto, however, recovered his wits quickly, “I agree, Prince Aemond. I propose that Ser Rickard should take his place and that Ser Criston,” He turned a flinty eye on Cole, “should be grateful that the Kingsguard is so short-handed or he would have been made to exchange his white cloak for a black one.”

Cole’s eyes darted around the room. Ser Tyland, Lord Jasper and Maester Orwyle would not even meet his gaze. Aegon only watched on with glee like the audience of a mummer’s show. Alicent kept her eyes on her hands, breathing heavily as if pushing down the urge to be sick. No one came to his rescue. All he could do was walk out of the room, breathing hard like an angry bull. Ser Rickard entered the room to take his place. Aemond noticed that both he and Ser Arryk seemed to be struggling not to smile.

He realised that moment that Cole was not well liked among the Kingsguard.

Was I the only one who really liked him apart from Mother?

The small council meeting wore on until dawn broke and Aegon had started dozing off in his chair. Nothing to discuss presented itself until Ser Gwayne hurried into the room with reports from the goldcloaks.

“There are many sightings of masked men and women around the city tonight.” He gabbled, eyes on his papers, “Too many. It’s hard to narrow it down to the one you describe." 

“Just what he wanted.” Otto growled, “If he cannot blend in with his surroundings, he will make his surroundings match him.”

“We do have one promising lead regarding the Queen. Some of the goldcloaks on the city walls say they saw two dragons flying out to sea before the fog came in.”

“Dragons? Which ones?”

“They’re certain one of them was Caraxes but, as for the other, no one can say for sure. They only say that it was larger than Caraxes by some way. A few of them thought it was Vhagar at first. What the witnesses can say for sure is that both dragons had more than one rider.”

The small council all looked at each other, bewildered.

“It cannot be Vermithor.” Aemond thought aloud, “There was not enough time for Lord Velaryon to fly to Dragonstone and back.”

“So, Rhaenyra has two bigger dragons now!” Aegon snapped, “Wonderful! Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse!”

“There is more.”

“Oh, but, of course, it can!”

Ser Gwayne quailed. He looked like he wanted to make an excuse and back out of the room slowly. But, Otto sighed and said with an air of bracing himself for the worst, “What more is there?”

“We have two confirmed sightings of this Lord Velaryon character. He was seen by Septon Eustace praying at the Stranger’s alter. And Ser Willis tells me he saw him leave Mother’s before Prince Aemond did. He said he turned an hourglass on his belt before he left on a horse. And, uh, my goldcloaks said other masked men rode through the streets after turning an hourglass too. Thought that might be, uh, important.”

An hourglass? Before riding to Vhagar. Why would he need to know how long it took to get from Mother’s to Vhagar?

Into the puzzled silence, Aemond asked, “Did you see where these timed runs went?”

“Uh, a lot of places. They started at the Red Keep mostly but also at started at the Grand Sept, certain taverns and other brothels. They either stopped at the Dragonpit or they rode beyond the city toward Vhagar’s field.”

“Is this relevant?” Otto asked, impatiently.

“Yes, grandsire, it is.” Aemond said even as the idea fully formed in his head, “I believe Lord Velaryon wanted to know how long it takes me and His Grace to reach our dragons from our usual haunts.”

Aegon still looked bewildered. Otto caught on at once. In a voice of determined, strained calm, he asked, “And, how long does it take you to reach Vhagar from the Red Keep?”

“Fifteen minutes, perhaps, if I have a swift horse.” Aemond said, quietly. It hadn’t felt like a long time before then. Now, as he looked out at the dragon-hiding fog and remembered how many times his way had been blocked by something as small as a broken cart in the middle of the street, it felt like an age. An age in which a city could be taken with the multiple large dragons they now had under their yoke. Perhaps, that was why Lord Velaryon tempted him into a race - to check that Aemond didn’t know a quicker route.

All this seemed to be going through Otto’s head too by the way the colour drained from his face.

“It seems Lord Velaryon may have a surprise attack in mind for the future. He is hoping to catch you both away from your dragons and to act quicker than we can react. And, if he times his attack well, he might well succeed.”

Aemond waited for Otto’s countermove to this. Otto, however, only paused and said, “This needs careful consideration. Gwayne, what other news do you have from the city?”

“Septon Eustace also said there was an, ah, procession of masked men going all over the city. A lot of people are talking about it, actually.”

“What kind of procession?” Otto said, exhausted of the blather already.

Ser Gwayne bit his lip, “A funeral procession. At least, that’s what it looked like. A funeral procession with Targaryen and Velaryon banners.”

A sick feeling started to build in Aemond’s stomach.

“I’m sure it wasn’t actual bodies on the cart. But, it looked like bodies. One was a person that, ah, looked like it had been, ah, torn apart.”

Now, Aemond knew why he was starting to feel sick. A body torn apart carried in a funeral procession with Velaryon banners. What else could it be but Luke?

“And, the other was - a babe.”

That woke everyone up. Alicent, who had been silent for hours, looked up, “A babe? Why?”

“That story goes that, ah, when Rhaenyra heard of His Grace’s coronation…” Ser Gwayne chewed his lip again and he eyed the window as if he wanted to leap from it rather than deliver the news, “…the shock was so great…she went into an early labour…and the babe did not live.”

Alicent let out a sob, hands flying to her mouth. Even Aegon’s face fell and he breathed, “Oh, shit.” Aemond, for his part, felt as if a dagger was being twisted in his stomach. He glanced around, almost expecting the ghost of Rhaenyra’s girl to start crawling up the walls again.

“And, what did this funeral procession do?” Otto asked.

“Only walked around the city and then left the city via the Iron Gate. The goldcloaks followed them but they didn’t do anything to warrant an arrest. No one said anything other than to explain about Rhaenyra’s stillbirth but, well, people have put two and two together about the other, ah, body.”

Aemond felt the eyes of the room turn on him. He endured it. He met everyone’s gaze with a steady glare of his own. No matter what had happened, no matter how tired he felt, he would not show any cracks in his shield.

“And, what does Lord Velaryon intend to achieve with a silent procession and scarecrows?” Aegon asked at last.

“It serves,” Otto said, every word sharp as a spike, “to show the people all our works have accomplished. To lay the blame for the babe and Lucerys Velaryon at our feet and discredit your claim to the throne further.” He took in a breath and lowered his gaze, “This is a clever ploy indeed.”

It is. Aemond realised, Because, it’s just what you would have done in that situation. Lord Velaryon isn’t just averting the terrible future, he’s taking inspiration from it.

“They are no doubt going north via the Rosby Road to take this mummer’s act to our allies.”

“What good’s that going to do?” Aegon asked, “Those lords have already bent the knee to us.”

“Under duress!” Otto snapped, the sleepless night clearly getting the better of him, “And we only have the lords in our grasp, not their families. Not their heirs! Their families may decide to defy their lords and declare their forces for Rhaenyra.”

“Well, then, we’ll have their lords executed.” Lord Jasper pointed out.

Otto only snarled in frustration, “And then their titles will fall to their heirs. That will achieve nothing but to strengthen a potential foe. And it won’t just be Rosby and Stokeworth. Let this tale spread and our other allies will falter. The lords of the realm will not wish to raise their banners in the name of a kinslayer and a babe-killer!”

“I didn’t cause Rhaenyra to lose her babe!” Aegon shrieked, “I wasn’t the one who ripped Luke and Arrax apart! Why’s it all my fault?”

“Because it was done in your name! A name which Lord Velaryon will seek to blacken in any way he can and he now has the perfect ammunition to do it. He will ensure that Lucerys and the dead babe will do more for Rhaenyra than a thousand knights in battle and he will likely use this debacle to his advantage too. He will say that this shows Rhaenyra is gracious and measured in her reaction to such great provocation as you gave her.”

Aegon sneered, “You almost sound like you admire him, grandsire.”

Otto gave him a withering look, “I find his tactics impressive. It is clear he has the wit and cunning to match the size of his dragon. Something personal experience made me think was impossible.”

He turned that withering look on Aemond for a long moment. Long enough for Aemond to feel the insult.

Then, he turned a sharp eye at Ser Gwayne, who visibly flinched, “Gwayne, you should have found some pretext to arrest them before they left. Rectify that error at once. Take a dozen goldcloaks and give chase. And, send some goldcloaks to Lord Larys’ manse. His absence is beginning to irk me.”

Ser Gwayne scuttled from the room, goldcloaks in tow.

At last, Otto pushed himself to his feet and said, “We will cancel today’s petitions. We must focus on tightening the Red Keep’s security and widening the search of the city. Ser Rickard, a word if you please. The rest of you, back to your beds.”

No one objected to that idea. Aemond started to follow Ser Tyland from the room. Then, he felt a familiar pressure around his ears.

No, not again.

He looked around and saw Luke standing by the doorway with a grin on his rotted face.

‘Follow me, uncle. You’ll want to hear this.’

Aemond had no choice but to follow the ghost. At least, now, he had the reassurance that he would get a decent night’s sleep.

The ghost slipped around the corner and made Aemond wait out of sight. He heard the small council’s footsteps fade away. Then, he heard the sound of Alicent’s swishing gown and quick footsteps coming towards him.

‘Keep quiet.’

Aemond heard the squeaking elbow of Ser Criston’s armour coming up towards Aemond’s hiding place as well. Then, he heard Ser Criston’s whisper of, “A moment, my Queen. Please!”

“No!” Alicent hissed back, “We can’t! Not here! Not ever again!”

“My Queen, I swear - ”

“Look!” The clink of a chain accompanied her words, “It was on the table. Look here. This emerald is missing.” She waited a moment. Then, with no small amount of exasperation, she snapped, “It’s the necklace I dropped last night! Lord Velaryon’s agents were there! He knows! And, if he knows, Rhaenyra knows by now! I can’t even be seen close to you! Go! At once! That’s a command from your queen!”

“Former queen.”

“Unhand me, Ser, or I’ll scream!”

Aemond moved to turn the corner and confront Cole. But, the ghost held out a hand, ‘Just stay out of sight and listen.’

“We can’t let Lord Velaryon scare us. He can’t prove anything and neither can the bitch queen.”

There was the sharp sound of a slap, “You call her that in my presence again and I’ll have your tongue out! And, it’s too late to stop Lord Velaryon scaring us. He stole away my daughter and grandchildren from under my nose. I am scared of him and you should be too. He holds our ruin in his hands.”

“I’ll deny it.” Cole snapped back, “I’ll deny it and I’ll prove my innocence and yours with a trial by combat. He can’t be much of a fighter if he has to hide in the shadows.”

“You impossible fool! If you can’t be reasoned with, then stay away from me. I will have Ser Arryk as my royal protector from now on. I will show that he has my confidence. You will do whatever your Lord Commander orders of you.”

With that, her skirts whirled and she turned the corner. She was so blind with anger that she did not catch a glimpse of Aemond pressed against the wall.

He heard Cole snarl and slam an armoured fist against the wall. Cole muttered something but Aemond couldn’t make out the words. Then, he turned and stormed off in the opposite direction.

Luke’s ghost gave Aemond a grin, ‘Wasn’t that interesting? Have you figured out what they were talking about? It’s alright if you didn’t. You’ll find out soon enough.’