Chapter 29
Was Cersei mad, or just a fool? And did that distinction even matter? Kevan Lannister wrestled with these thoughts.
The folly of it all is that it is not just one fool, but three. Tyrion claims to only be a part of this to avoid them bungling it, but the very idea of doing this is madness.
He had managed to convince them to abandon their efforts, but he had also seen the way they had glanced at each other. Kevan knew he was being humored, but he couldn’t simply pack off all three to Casterly Rock. And if any remained and continued their plotting…
Kevan felt his age as he contemplated what to do. When he had confronted the Grand Maester, the old man had promised he was Tywin’s leal servant. And yet… when Kevan had pressed, subtly yet forcibly, the man did not reveal anything about the plot to kill the king.
I cannot trust him. Or any of the guards here. Cersei and Jaime have had too much time to dig their claws into them.
Kevan realized that in order to wrest control, the Lannister guardsmen currently here needed to be rotated out of King’s Landing and fresh soldiers, from their own household guard, had to replace them. The servants, maids, cooks, and every hanger-on must go. Either they were spies for the Spider, Littlefinger, or Cersei.
He had already sent a rider to Hayford, with instructions to have a raven sent to Casterly Rock, unseen by the maester. He hated sending half the guard he had with him to do so, but the information was vital and he wouldn’t trust Pycelle with it.
Today, it was time to remind the City Watch just where the gold that greased their palms came from. A meeting with Janos Slynt had been arranged in one of the finer inns. As he rode out of the King’s Gate he saw that the guard had been tripled.
Are they trying to impress me? Did my comments on the shoddy state of affairs lead to this?
Upon Kevan’s arrival, Janos greeted him with a jowly smile. Several Gold Cloak officers were with him.
“Our meeting should be more private than this.”
Janos nodded affably. “Yes, of course, this is just so every man here can swear that they saw you here today.”
What?
Kevan didn’t allow confusion to show on his face and he was ushered into a more private room. He nodded at his guard and they remained without. Kevan studied the bald man. The man wore gold-and-black plate and was built like a keg. His simple, unrefined features gave proof of his low birth.
“I am honored that you have chosen me for this, my lord. I have always been a friend of your house. The timing of course may look foul, but you’ll have been seen by hundreds, and my own officers will swear by it.”
“What are you talking about?” Kevan forced a scowl from his face. “I’m here to speak with you about where your loyalties lie.”
The man’s features shifted into confusion.
“Loyalties? Why, with you my lord! How can you think otherwise given my obedience this day of all days?”
“Explain yourself.”
The man’s eyes shifted nervously. “The plan,” his voice lowered, “for the king.”
Kevan’s heart began to race.
“What plan?” he hissed. “What folly have my kin ensnared you in?”
Janos looked poleaxed. “My lord… the queen did not tell you? How can this be? Her brother acts this very day to secure her regency. I’m to be given lands and titles.”
Kevan stood up. He needed to get back to the Red Keep.
“My lord, wait, what do you intend?”
“To stop this madness,” Kevan answered firmly.
“But my titles. And what will become of your house once this,” he shifted his eyes from side to side, “treason is revealed?”
Kevan paused. “I don’t mean to tell the king, you fool. I’ve wasted too much time on this. Worry not. You’ll keep your head, but the thought of you being made a noble makes my skin crawl. Be glad of this. Janos, you would never have joined the ranks of nobility.”
As Kevan rose to the door, Janos did likewise.
“My lord, we haven’t finished our conversation,” Janos said as he blocked his path.
“Guards!” Kevan called out. He was not attired for battle. His two men entered as did a pair of the City Watch.
“I have the queen’s backing. You are a second son. No doubt, Her Grace would not see you harmed, but I will prove my loyalty to her this day. I have another dozen men here, Ser Kevan.”
Kevan trembled with anger. He drew his sword and pointed it at the two Gold Cloaks in the room.
“My brother is Tywin Lannister. I know your faces. Let me pass or what he will do to you will make your mothers wish they had smothered you at birth.”
Both of them took a step back. Janos scowled. “I am your commander, and this is upon the queen’s orders! Stand your ground, or you’ll be executed.”
Kevan’s face was stone, in his best impression of his brother’s, as he stepped forward. His guards drew steel while the gold-cloaked men backed away. Their commander’s thick face purpled in fury, but Janos made no move to draw his own blade. Kevan walked past them and quickly called for the horses.
Even leagues away, my brother’s reputation protects me. Now, to see if I can make it in time before the worst has occurred.
Kevan knew his brother was one of the finest battlefield commanders in Westeros. But not even he could withstand the rest of Westeros put together. For the sake of his house and his family, he rode.
***
“I don’t care what deal you had with the prior master of coin,” Tyrion said directly, “you will need to pay what is owed.”
The silver merchant was sweating profusely and denied any such arrangement with the master of coin.
“But I am paying. I know I still owe the full amount, and that will be recorded as such, but you have a purse of silver now for your troubles.”
Tyrion had met with many of the merchants and factors found in Baelish’s ledgers. Littlefinger was allowing many to delay paying into the royal coffers what they owed. Instead, he was providing extensions, but then pocketing money on the side.
Only in some cases. In others, the full weight of the crown’s wrath descended. In one case, a man in arrears was found floating by the docks and his property was seized to pay his debt. A debt that had ballooned spectacularly, which was almost certainly falsely attributed, leaving his widow with nothing.
He was still trying to figure out what else Littlefinger was doing when he heard a strangled shout and a heavy thud.
“Jyck,” Tyrion raised his voice, “is something amiss?”
No response but heavy steps were coming up the stairs. The merchant looked clueless and as Tyrion glanced around for other means to leave the room the door crashed open. In the hall stood a giant of a man covered in darkened plate armor.
“Imp.”
“Clegane, I wondered where you had gone. Come, have a seat. Let us reminisce about when you used to serve my family.”
“No games. You will tell me what I want to know or I start breaking fingers.”
Tyrion was afraid, but he did not let it show.
“Don’t be foolish. You can’t frighten me. Lay hands on me, especially in front of witnesses, and you’ll suffer far worse than those smallfolk you tormented ever did.”
Clegane drew his sword and closed the remaining distance in a heartbeat. His blade slashed and cut right through the merchant, splattering blood across the table and walls.
“No one to bear witness now, Imp.”
Tyrion sighed. “How much are you being paid? You know I can double it, and I’ll even pretend this never happened.”
The Hound’s laughter was an ugly thing.
“Your family pissed on me. Now speak, what is going on within the Red Keep today?”
“Nothing of note. The small council is not even meeting.”
That much was actually true. The king was not planning to hold court and was instead helping Sansa with his firsthand accounts of the war against the Mad King. The only reason Tyrion knew of it was because they had been working out when they could proceed with the reading glass project.
Sandor grabbed him by his doublet and lifted him in the air.
“You are full of shit, Imp. The place is crawling with Lannister men.”
No… no, she couldn’t have.
“Who are you working for, Clegane? I can triple it if you also share with me who it is.”
The Hound’s scarred face twisted into a sneer.
“Last chance before I begin the hurt.”
Tyrion felt his face work, desperate to think of a way out of this.
“Others take you, Clegane, what do you want? Name your price.”
The Hound slammed him onto the table. Tyrion winced and tried to scramble up, but one massive hand grabbed his arm and pinned his hand there. The other grabbed one of his stubby fingers and twisted. Tyrion cried out in agony as the searing pain ripped through his digits.
“Gods be good, stop. Stop. I swear to you I don’t know anything.”
The man grabbed another finger.
“But I can take a guess! It’s my sister. She’s most like behind it, damn you Clegane, please don’t…”
Tyrion hated feeling this helpless. In the hands of a brute with no wit or cunning. The protection of his house no longer felt present and he was but a mewling dwarf dependent on the mercy of a monster.
Is this how Sansa felt that day on the Trident? Thank the gods she has no recollection.
“Say more, then.” Another man said. Tyrion had not even seen him enter. The second man sounded like one of the Ironborn. There was a slight limp as he walked in and his face was obscured by a cap pulled low almost over his eyes. Tyrion saw bearded stubble on the lower side of his heavy face.
“Who do you work for?” Tyrion said, voice still filled with pain. This was the one who held the Hound’s leash.
“Time is short,” came the quick reply. The man’s mouth barely moved as he walked around the table. The man’s stride was short.
He’s trying to hide a limp.
Tyrion wracked his mind for anyone he knew who had a limp, but came up empty as Sandor’s paws grasped one of his fingers again. Another jolt of terror coursed through him, but so too did a glimmer of hope. If the man was attempting to hide a noticeable feature he had, that meant they probably did not intend to kill him.
Just torment and disfigure me. The Hound is fool if he thinks he will not die screaming for this.
“Cersei! Cersei, she’s gone mad after the death of her son. She wants to kill the king. I’ve tried to convince her otherwise, our own uncle has done the same, please, if anything is taking place it is due to the grief that has broken her!”
Lies mixed with truth would work best here.
“How does she intend to do it?”
“I don’t know… she’s talked of poison. She’s talked of getting one of the Kingsguard to do it and then having said traitor slain to hide her scheming. Seven Hells, I swear to you, I have no knowledge of what she is doing today. But if something is occurring it must be stopped.”
And that is the truth. For if this is done ham-fistedly, our house will suffer.
“And Aemond Rivers?”
Tyrion’s blood went cold. A bastard with Darry blood had been the catspaw he intended to take the blame. Even now he should be secured in the inn under a different name.
The Hound’s grating laughter filled the room. Tyrion realized the shock at them knowing had been evident upon his face. He was not at his best. The blinding agony made it hard for him to think or school his features for deception.
“Who?” Clegane demanded.
The man’s shadowed face gave a nod when Tyrion delayed in his response. The Hound crushed one finger and then twisted it sidewise. Tyrion howled and tears came unbidden to his eyes.
“A bastard, a bastard with a grudge against the king! He should still be at the Broken Anvil. Cersei asked me to gather any who hated the king. I thought it better to keep an eye on them.”
“Time is short. We must make haste, leave him. Tyrion Lannister, should the king survive whatever foolishness your sister has done, you will cease your efforts to kill him.”
And in another moment they were gone. Tyrion cradled his broken fingers. One had been bent backward so far that the tip now pointed straight up his forearm at an impossible angle. The joint was grotesquely swollen and already purpling. A thin split in the skin leaked blood. The second finger had been twisted like a screw until the joint itself had given way. It had already swollen, near twice its size, red and misshapen.
I need a maester. And see if Jyck still lives.
***
Twice already I had to send a mental ‘command’ to Visha to behave. That was rare and feelings of anxiety and distress came through our bond cleanly. I took a moment to see through Anna’s eyes and then did the same with Weiss. Neither were in danger, so that was one theory down.
Maybe Visha didn’t sleep well last night. Direwolves had dreams as well.
Putting aside Visha’s strange behavior, I had passed along my wishes to Arya before she was off for another lesson. I was proud of Arya’s improved behavior and her evident dedication. She complained and whined at times, but she was prompt like all good employees. Our secrets had been kept and she even was willing to attempt to warg into another animal again.
Today would be another interesting dance for me. I was going to be interviewing Robert and Barristan, two individuals who were on opposite sides of the Battle of the Trident. This had an element of peril to it, as this was one of the most emotionally sensitive areas for Robert. I did want an understanding of the battle, but this too was an opportunity to assess how he would react on certain topics and how I could position myself and my commentary to more easily twist around his thoughts and temperament.
“You’re on duty, but Ned will mind the door. Sit Selmy, that’s an order.”
Barristan’s face was stoic, but I did detect a hint of discomfort.
“As you wish, Your Grace. What questions did you have for me, Lady Sansa.”
“I’d like to first get an understanding from each of you on what the battle strategies were. What were the Targaryen forces hoping to accomplish? Was there an intention to seek a duel or was it happenstance?”
Barristan frowned. “My task had been to gather the remnants of Lord Connington’s host. We arrived in time for the battle and were hastily put in position along with the Dornish host that had marched. His Grace attempting to cross the Trident so suddenly was a surprise, but a welcome one. We thought it would provide better ground and allow the Dornish spears to do their work in the muck better than they could upon firmer ground.”
Robert laughed. “Hah, others wished to strike a decisive blow for fear that the Tywin Lannister would eventually support the crown. Aerys had his son, after all. As for me, when I learned Rhaegar was there, not even the Seven would have been able to hold me back, let alone Ned or Jon.”
I studied Robert carefully. No worrying signs yet. “So you were looking for that fight and a potential duel.” I turned to Barristan. “Was Rhaegar?”
Barristan glanced at Robert and then answered.
“The prince was certain of his victory. He welcomed it, but Lewyn and I begged him not to seek such a confrontation. He eventually relented. I did my best to protect him, as was my sworn duty, but was overcome by numbers.”
Robert grunted. “You fought well, and fulfilled your oaths.”
The conversation continued and I drew out details I was curious about. Getting Barristan to go over minutiae such as the height of the waters. How well the levies fought. The height of the sun during the battle. Who had been in the van, who had been in the reserves, an endless set of details. I captured it all, until we were interrupted.
“YOUR GRACE!”
That was Edric Dayne, the king’s squire. The one who was seeing to the door. Barristan moved with astonishing grace and speed for his age and had bare steel in his hand and had risen to his feet in a moment.
Visha was before me in a moment growling. Jaime Lannister marched into the room with Lannister guardsmen at his back.
Shit, there’s blood on his sword.
Jaime eyed me. “A pity, I had hoped you had not yet arrived.” He sighed. “My brother will be heartbroken. Though I wonder… you have Stark and Tully in your veins. Would you be willing to speak a lie to save you and your sister’s life?”
“What is the meaning of this Kingslayer? What have you done?” Robert roared.
“I’m here to kill you, fool. The only question is what will happen to the girl.”
“Leave her be, she’s done nothing to you!” Robert said as he drew his belt knife, Barristan shifted his position in front of the king and away from me.
I gave a mental command to Weiss and briefly looked through his eyes as he raced to our location. The halls of the Royal Apartments were eerily barren. The servants must have been ushered out, and with that not raising the alarm, this was not just Jaime acting on his own.
“What’s going on?” I said allowing my voice to quaver, attempting to buy some time. “Why does my Tully blood matter?”
My mind was racing through branching possibilities. What were my options? Would they really let me live if I said some words? Jaime was moved by affection for Tyrion, but would a hard man like Kevan Lannister allow for noble witnesses? At best I would find myself under guard for the rest of my life. At best.
Jaime smirked. “Surely you know the words. Duty and honor, yes, but also family. So, will you lie about how this fat wretch dies to save your sister?”
Barristan advanced a step and the king demanded he hold. I looked over to Robert whose face had grown molten with rage. His hand gripping the dagger so hard it was turning white.
“Yes, she will, Kingslayer. But only if you win. Ser Barristan has killed more knights than the two of us combined. And I’m the Demon of the Trident, which one of you cravens wishes to die first?”
It was a nice attempt at a bluff. Jaime had six guardsmen with him, which meant the battle was a foregone conclusion. Especially since the king wasn’t wearing armor. However, Barristan had a reputation, as did Robert, it was likely at least some of the guards would die.
Time to even the odds.
“P-please. I… I can’t watch this.” I pleaded pitifully.
Jaime looked at me, assessing. “Swear it by the old gods you love so much, and you can return to your rooms with some of the men. But only for the affection that Tyrion has for you.”
“I… I swear it by the old gods; I will speak whatever lie you ask of me.” I rushed over to Robert and give him a hug and then whispered as low as I could make it while still allowing for him to hear. “Do not react, if you do, Visha will attack them immediately. As soon as I cross the threshold, Visha will distract. Don’t use the knife, use the bloody table and furniture.”
Robert’s sweaty body tensed and I knew he wanted to object but I was already freeing myself and walking away.
“The one thing I regret, ser,” Jaime said with casual confidence to Barristan, “is that I will never know how good you were in your prime.” To the guards he said, “Leave the Lord Commander to me.”
Two guards followed me, one eyed Visha. That must be the smart one. As we crossed outside and I saw Edric Dayne’s corpse, I gave a whimper and stumbled deliberately into the smart guard. As his hands shot out to steady me, my knife jabbed up into his jugular. At the same time Visha crashed into the other guard, clamped down on his face, and tore half of it off. Blood splattered everywhere as both guards collapsed in a mangled heap.
“RALLY TO YOUR KING! BARATHEON!” Robert roared and threw the table with the cups of wine and chilled milk at Jaime and the remaining guards. Visha let loose a loud howl and I closed the door. Like most rooms in Maegor’s Holdfast, it was hinged inward and had a mechanism to lock. I did not have the key, but I could jam it effectively enough.
Until they chop it down with an axe.
My practiced battlefield eye took on the scene as I worked. Barristan had moved without hesitation and his blade slashed into the helm of the nearest Lannister guardsmen. Blood welled from the wound, but more importantly, I think he was concussed as he let out a moan and didn’t immediately rise. His next move was to parry the assault from Jaime.
Robert was armed with a chair and he had already crashed it into the armor of one guard who fell back a step while another was kept at bay by the king’s wild swings. Visha charged. A guard gave a cry of terror and tried to keep steel between him and her. All of his attention was on the wolf and I took my knife and came in low, behind him, and stabbed into his inner thigh, then slashed out and away. Blood spurted from the cut artery. Visha’s instinct was to continue that assault, but with a mental command I had her instead charge at the one trying to stab the king.
Her heavy weight slammed into the back of the man. Her teeth attempted to clamp down on his neck, but the helm would shatter her teeth before it could do that. Instead I sent the impulse to just clamp down and shake instead.
Meanwhile Weiss had arrived and I directed my rat to climb the back of another guard and then attempt to blind it. Only then did I quickly move to a corner, curl into a ball, and try something I had never done before.
***
Pure rage had filled him when he realized what was happening. Before the Kingslayer had given Sansa an opportunity to escape, his mind had been filled with wretched grief at the idea of failing her and Ned so horribly. When she had whispered her plan, he had wanted to forbid it, but her voice had been as sharp as steel. It almost reminded him of the old master-at-arms who had trained him at the Eyrie.
Worry still ate at him as he swung the heavy chair he sat in. Built sturdier than most to accommodate his girth, it proved an adequate weapon. Even within just the first moments of the battle, his breathing was labored, but he would not let Sansa die in this room.
“BARATHEON! FURY!”
His chair crashed into one of the red-cloaked traitors. What had started as insurmountable odds had been evened by the fearsome wolf and the skill of Ser Barristan. Their moments of perfect docility had made people forget that a direwolf’s prowess was fearsome. Unfortunately, the Kingslayer had as much skill as the elderly knight, and the advantage of comparative youth. Jaime was winning their battle, though the doughty old knight still moved in ways that left him amazed. The footwork, the parries, the willingness to accept a blow that would not pierce Kingsguard plate in order to gain some other advantage formed a tapestry of talent that showed the deadliness of Ser Barristan the Bold.
Somehow, Robert found himself with just one foe remaining. The direwolf had pinned one, and maybe killed another. The door to the hall was now closed, and no sound came from without which suggested Visha had slain the two that had gone with Sansa. He spied Sansa in a corner, covered in blood, and let out a howl of rage and rushed the remaining red-cloak facing him. The man lifted an arm to accept the blow of the chair while slashing out with the sword.
Red blossomed across Robert’s shoulder, and the chair shattered into kindling and sent the guard careening to the floor. He followed, holding just the leg of a chair in his hand and used all his still mighty strength to slam it down on the man’s helm. The wood cracked again, but the steel dented and the man’s head rattled within. Robert turned the man over and jammed the splinters into his face.
He wanted to check on Sansa, but the Kingslayer took priority. Robert picked up one of the dropped swords and advanced on the fight. Jaime had driven Barristan back against the wall when he saw Robert coming. With a sly smirk, he riposted Barristan’s next strike and then whirled on Robert – and faltered mid-step. Just for a moment, a strange look of confusion mixed with revulsion appeared on the Kingslayer’s face. His sword arm dipped, he stumbled, and then whatever had caused it dissipated, but that was enough time for Robert’s blade to strike at Jaime’s face.
The blade sheared through the side of Jaime Lannister’s face. It caught him high on the cheek and tore downward in a savage diagonal. Steel ripped against teeth as it split lip and gum, then continued, ripping part of his jaw away. Robert had honestly expected a parry or a dodge, but even so his strike had been true. Had the Kingslayer not flinched away, it would have been a killing blow.
Barristan slammed into Jaime with his shoulder while his blade swept out and rang against the Kingslayer’s gauntlet. The sword went spinning away and Jaime gave a moaning cry as he clutched at his face.
“Wait!” Sansa’s thready voice cried out. “H-hostage. T-take him hostage.”
Robert snapped at Barristan. “Do it.” And then rushed over to Sansa. The girl was drenched in blood and viscera.
“Where are you hurt?”
She looked unbelievably frail and was shaking. “Not… not my blood. I was shoved. I… they wouldn’t do this unless they have the Holdfast. Stall, you have Tywin’s son. Valuable.”
Robert’s heart pounded as he frantically searched for a wound. Blood had stained her dress, but he saw no sign of cut or puncture. He heard a muffled cry as Barristan slew one of the wounded guardsmen.
“Ser Jaime!” A voice at the door came. “Open the door,” came the cry.
Robert whirled, heedless of the blood streaming from his shoulder.
“TRAITORS! I WILL HAVE YOUR HEADS FOR THIS, BUT TELL WHICHEVER LANNISTER DOG GAVE THIS ORDER, JAIME LIVES, BUT ONLY FOR THE MOMENT. I AM WILLING TO SPEAK OF MERCY.”
***
The extra guards waited outside and Arya glanced at the door and then whispered her concerns.
“Something strange is going on. I’ve never had guards sent with me. Godwyn is also nervous.”
Syrio looked at her.
"And what is it that you wish to be happening?"
Arya shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know… maybe we can question them?”
“Child, that would not be done without bloodshed. If you think they mean you harm, that is one thing, but thinking and knowing is not the same.”
She wasn’t sure what to say or do. But something was wrong. She knew it. Nymeria began pacing. Syrio looked at her wolf and then back at Arya.
“I just know something is going on. I’m… I’m worried about Sansa and Jory. I had dreams and…”
“What is your wish? Do you wish to escape these men? That is simple, they guard only the front.”
Arya bit her lip. She wanted to do more. There were only five of them. But what if she was wrong? What if someone important was visiting and they needed more guards?
“I don’t want to leave without Harwin.”
Nymeria then howled and Godwyn and Harwin entered from outside.
“Arya, is something amiss?” Harwin asked.
Nymeria let out another loud whine.
Calm as still water.
“She’s fine, just smelled something foul. But Harwin, can you keep her company?”
Harwin looked surprised and Godwyn frowned. Arya felt her cheeks heat up as she glanced away.
“Perhaps it is best if we return to the Red Keep,” Godwyn said.
“N-no, I still need my lesson. I just wanted someone to keep her company while I practiced.”
He gave her a suspicious look, but walked back out.
Arya explained to Harwin that something was wrong and that she didn’t trust the guards.
“But where would you go? It isn’t as if Nymeria does not cause a stir wherever she goes.” Harwin asked. “If there is trouble, then the Lannister man is right, we can return to Sansa and Jory.”
Arya hadn’t thought about Nymeria giving them away. She should have, given how her direwolf was acting much less controlled than normal.
“I don’t trust him. I know something is wrong.” An idea sprang to her mind. “What if we say we are going to take lessons elsewhere. And we go to where I sometimes play with the Reach girls? Sansa says the Lannisters and Tyrells are at odds.”
Syrio was smiling at her and gave her an approving nod. Arya was rather pleased with herself.
Harwin frowned. “But if they do mean you harm, they won’t allow it.” He looked at Syrio, “Can you fight? Two against five is poor odds, though maybe if Nymeria…”
“I no longer carry a proper Braavosi blade, but this will do for the likes of them,” he said as he lifted the wooden practice blade he used with Arya.
Harwin looked at Syrio dubiously, but then glanced at the direwolf that dwarfed any dog found in the kennels. After a few more moments of preparation, they walked out.
“Lady Arya wishes to show the new dance she learned to her friend, Alla Tyrell,” Harwin said directly. “If you wish to escort us, come along.”
Godwyn frowned. “I’m tasked with ensuring Lady Arya is safe. There was no mention of her being taken to the Tyrells. We’ll need to return to the Red Keep first, so I can inform my captain or Ser Meryn.”
Nymeria began growling and Arya clutched at the bundle she was carrying. It held Needle.
“You are welcome to go find Ser Meryn, but no Lannister toady will tell my lord’s daughter where she can or cannot go. If His Grace feels I have erred, I imagine I will suffer for it, but make no mistake, we are going.”
The Gold Cloaks gripped their spears and edged away from Nymeria.
See with your eyes.
Godwyn’s face was slick with sweat. His hand was on the pommel as he looked at the larger soldier from Winterfell and then back at the direwolf.
“When Nymeria was littler, she once chewed through my brother’s armor. He was so upset.” Arya spoke in a wistful voice. “I tried to say that it couldn’t have been her. A wolf’s teeth couldn’t break castle-forged steel. But Maester Luwin said that a direwolf’s teeth aren’t like those of a normal wolf. That they are as strong as Valyrian steel and can crunch through it just like the bones of the bears they hunt.”
Godwyn and the Gold Cloaks fell in and walked with them to where Margaery Tyrell and the other nobles from the Reach were staying.
Sansa would be proud.
***
Renly was not armored, but he went to see what all the shouting was about, his household guard at his heels. He came upon a scene of more and more men-at-arms gathering. Royce men, knights of the Vale, and Lannisters alike. He rarely carried his arming sword, just a knife in the belt, but now he felt a bit naked. Letting none of his unease appear on his face he approached and they made way for him.
“Ser Meryn Trant of the Kingsguard refuses to allow entry into Maegor’s Holdfast and instead bars my path until the queen or the king say otherwise,” Kevan thundered. “I do not believe him. There is a plot to slay the king and something afoul has occurred and it must be resolved, the swifter the better.”
Lord Royce nodded. “Aye, if we have to storm it we will. His Grace’s safety is paramount.”
“What do you mean there is a plot to slay my brother. How would you know of it?”
Kevan was not at all like Tywin, Jaime, Cersei, or even Lancel. He was not athletic or fair of form. Ugly for a Lannister, perhaps, but the man was not the excitable sort.
“I will explain more in time, but now we must make haste!”
Renly slowed his step and turned to Loras. “Make for the manse where your sister is staying and bring all the swords you can.”
“I should stay with you,” his lover protested.
“I’m surrounded by my own men. There are too many Lannisters here for my liking, but between my guard and the men of the Vale, it should suffice. Something is odd. Best to move swiftly. ‘Tis better to have more swords and not need them, than have need and not have them.”
Renly wanted to embrace him, but that would not do with so many eyes. Instead he clapped him on the shoulder and Loras moved with some speed for the King’s Gate. By the time Renly reached the drawbridge, it had already been withdrawn.
“In the name of the Hand of the King, lower the bridge!” Lord Royce thundered. “Ser Kevan says the king’s life may be in danger. If this is not lowered immediately and the king has been harmed, all guardsmen within the holdfast will be executed.”
As he said this, Renly saw men begin to bring rope, crates, and even a ladder.
Do they mean to storm it?
Renly was uncertain how successful that would be or how much patience Lord Royce had to do it properly. He would never know how successful it would have been, for the drawbridge began to lower at that moment.
There was little love lost between him and Robert, but the thought of his brother dead still made his chest tighten. If someone succeeded in slaying Robert, what would then happen? Tommen was the heir, but he was far too young to rule. A regency would need to be assigned. With a start, he had no idea who Robert intended to serve in that capacity.
Gods be good, who would he even select? Royce perhaps? Seven Hells, if it was Stannis the realm would be riven. A worse king I could not imagine.
For all their quarrels, Renly found himself hoping Robert still lived. If he was alive, it would be best to eliminate that uncertainty in the future. He wasn’t sure if there was a way to put forth his own name without seeming grasping. But it was a thought. The way Robert overindulged in food and drink would likely see him to an early grave. Perhaps not within nine years, but stranger things had occurred in the history of Westeros.
Author's Note: Phew, this one was a doozy!