An imminent danger upon the city? It was a ludicrous assertion, and yet Stannis could not reject the possibility wholeheartedly. Since he’d arrived at King’s Landing, far too many ‘impossible’ things had happened for him to not entertain the idea that outlaws and bandits were already within the city. His son, Harry, had made it apparent that the head of the city guard, Janos Slynt, was utterly incompetent. They could’ve slipped in easily with all of these recent visitors.
Stannis frowned, an action he felt that he was doing more and more the longer he stayed within this city. Damn Robert for ever demanding he return to the capital. It was a nest of vipers, constantly encircling his feet, searching for any weak point at which to strike.
“What dangers have your men reported?” Eddard asked Littlefinger as they strode down the dirt road leading back up towards the city. Horses were being prepared for them, so Stannis had been told, but they’d need to meet them on the way.
“Cutthroats and vagabonds alike have filled establishments of lesser repute,” Littlefinger told them. “They’ve been carousing and acting disruptive since their arrival, but that’s no different to what half of the recent arrivals have been like. It was only when one of them slipped up and mentioned an attack upon the Red Keep that one of my agents in the tavern they were frequenting deigned to inform me of their words.”
Stannis didn’t trust Littlefinger. While most saw him as a useful pawn, Stannis understood the economic power that Lord Petyr Baelish wielded. The fact that he seemed utterly unbothered by being called Littlefinger on account of his family’s meagre holdings and his smaller-than-average size doubly made Stannis cautious around the man. He seemed to have no pride, but if he did, he hid it well. It allowed himself to be ingratiated into the highest chambers of Westeros, and that was quite the dangerous thing.
No one on the small council was to truly be trusted, except perhaps for Eddard. But Baelish knew his place. He was a servant of the realm, and these unprecedented attacks had put a dent into the crown’s coffers to reestablish security around the capital and to appease the lords and ladies who’d been attacked.
“Have you any word upon when such an attack will occur?” Stannis asked the man.
Littlefinger glanced over his shoulder and shook his head. “My agent reported that it sounded like such an attack was imminent, but that was only upon an estimation of the situation. No firm timeline was ever established by the culprits.”
Stannis scowled. “He should’ve alerted the gold cloaks. They would’ve taken the culprits into custody.”
“And then what would happen, my lord?” Littlefinger asked rhetorically. “These two men were not alone in their plots. Their accomplices would’ve hidden themselves away and become more secretive than before. As it stands, while these two men are unaware of our knowledge of their attack, I have sent in several others into the low parts of King’s Landing to investigate the matter further. They may turn up with more useful information than we would’ve otherwise had.”
Sneaky and underhanded, but what else could he expect from those who resided in King’s Landing. Stannis merely grunted in reply, already trying to imagine up a defence of the Red Keep. The walls were tall and their stores were plentiful. Ser Barristan was sure to have an emergency plan in place as well.
They could defend the castle well and deal with the agitators easily enough with this advanced warning. The only worrying question that remained was how many men the enemy had. Were they numbered in the tens? The hundreds? The thousands? The tens of thousands?
No, the last two numbers seemed utterly ridiculous after what losses the bandits had suffered.
They had to be few in number and painfully desperate.
Along the way out, Stannis happened to chance upon Ser Davos and several other knights of his. He’d had them patrolling the tourney grounds, fearing another attack from the forests beyond it.
“Gather up our men and return to the Red Keep,” Stannis barked at them sharply.
They didn’t hesitate to run off in whichever direction would bring them towards Stannis’ other men. They reacted without hesitation and with a clear purpose in their steps. It was the type of thing that Stannis liked to see.
He turned back to the others. “Even if we defend the castle, we need to ensure the king and his family’s safety.”
“I’ve ordered men to aid in their protection,” Littlefinger replied instantly. “Between them and the Kingsguard, they should be safe. If you have any additional men to spare beyond those you’re sending to the castle, then send them your brother’s way.”
There were a few he could name. His son, Harry, for one, but he was down in the tunnels beneath the Red Keep at the moment. He should spare a couple other knights just in case—men who could be relied upon to keep Stannis well informed about the king’s safety—but the rest ought to be ready to protect the castle itself or flank the insurgents through the streets.
Three men came running down the main road with horses in tow. They quickly handed them off to each of the lords and helped them up onto the beasts. Instantly, the three of them took off back towards the city.
This pit of vipers had dangers around every corner. How had everyone missed this threat to the Red Keep? Stannis had placed Ser Davos in charge of keeping a watchful eye over the poorer districts of the city for any possible dangers, and he’d be a fool to assume that he was the only one with such a spy in place. Was it incompetence or sheer luck that stopped these villains from being identified before now?
Crowds parted for them as they raced faster and faster to the castle. The gold cloaks that remained behind to guard the Red Keep allowed them swift passage inside, and Stannis was the first to disembark.
“How many new faces have entered the castle walls as of late?” Stannis asked Littlefinger.
“Between those serving the lords and ladies who’ve come to visit and the additional help that’s been hired on to aid with the grand feasts and the tourney, too many to count,” Littlefinger answered instantly.
That was exactly what Stannis had feared.
“It’s possible that they’ve already infiltrated the castle,” Stannis mused aloud.
Eddard glowered as he scanned the walls. “There’s too few guards on duty. Where have they all gone?”
“To the tourney, my lord,” Littlefinger informed him with a small smile. “With such grand festivities as these, it’s all-too common to see men shirking their posts for a bit of fun. Doubtless, the king also ordered a minimal guard presence already so that more of the men could see his grand tourney.”
Foolish. Exactly the type of thing his brother would do.
“My men will be arriving shortly,” Stannis said confidently. He didn’t exactly trust most of the men along the walls, especially since more than half of them were Lannister men brought here by the queen. “Once they’ve joined those along the walls, we’ll need to scour the castle itself for any traitors in our midst.”
“Until then, we must find someplace safe to wait,” Littlefinger said. “If it is as you say and we have traitors in our midst, then it is likely that all of our lives are in danger.”
Stannis was no coward, but he was well aware of how easily men could lose any sense of control if their commander perished. He needed to be ready to deliver orders when the time came to ensure this castle’s safety, but until he had men that he trusted around him, it would be foolish to linger in places where hidden enemies could be lurking. Even when he believed himself safe in his chambers, men attacked him.
The Throne Room had too many workers moving through it to be a safe place. The same was true of almost every major building. Maegor’s Holdfast was a possibility of a safe location, but Stannis didn’t know the servants who worked there. The enemy could’ve easily slipped in a man or two disguised as servants there.
“The Godswood,” Eddard suddenly said. “We can wait amongst the trees, and we will be able to see any men who come into the bailey. Any who’ve seen us enter and decide to follow will lose themselves down the winding pathways, and should any enemies appear, we can hold them off at the top of the stairs.”
“A wise suggestion,” Littlefinger dipped his chin in deference.
Worry crept across the back of Stannis’ neck. The knowledge that the Red Keep was about to be attacked made his senses as keen as they could, searching for any sort of danger around him. Yet, if he looked worried or panicked, not only would it alert any of his enemies watching him that he believed something was wrong, it would weaken the faith of any who looked up to him.
He kept his nerve calm, focusing on the situation before him. The castle could see dozens or hundreds of invading men in mere minutes. Or hours. Or days. The lack of information on the outlaws’ true plans was painful, but they had to prepare for the worst.
They quickly made their way through the open yard, through another gate, and then up the steps to the old godswood. Stannis’ careful eyes saw no one within, but that didn’t mean that there wasn’t anyone within somewhere deeper. This ground covered nearly an acre, which thankfully made it quite easy to hide.
“There,” Eddard said, gesturing to a thicket of brushy trees. The thick tree line sat just beyond the ledge overlooking the bailey, and its green and brown colouring would make it easy for them to blend into.
Littlefinger looked awkward as he climbed into the centre of the thicket itself. Brambles clung to his long robes, but he at least found a small space where he could sit down. Stannis followed him in and then Eddard joined them. In these cramped quarters, they couldn’t move much, but they were obscured from sight from all but the most observant.
Stannis hoped that Ser Davos would arrive with his other men quickly. The sooner, the better. Once they took command of the guard around the castle, they could ensure that no dangers could breach its walls.
PAGE BREAK
The bright sun nearly blinded Harry as he reentered its light out from the Small Hall. Oberyn and Jon Snow stood next to him while Ghost was already on the hunt for something more. His nose danced from side to side, nearly silent as he searched for the scents he’d found beneath the Red Keep.
There were dozens of men about and half as many women loitering about and only a handful of guards watching the main gate, but Ghost didn’t seem interested in any of them. Yet, his nose remained curious.
“Ghost?” Jon called out. “Where are they?”
The direwolf seemed keen to answer. He sniffed in every direction as he turned its body around, yet whatever trails he managed to find weren’t enough to find what he was looking for.
Harry understood immediately what it meant. “The person whose room that was must travel around the Red Keep regularly,” he commented to his companions. “It’s the only reason a beast like Ghost could get so confused.”
“Then we must search the castle first,” Oberyn suggested.
He was right. If their target was out in the city, then it’d be quite the task to uncover their location. Between all of the smells and noise, uncovering a single person would be quite difficult. But finding someone within the castle would be easy.
“Find them, Ghost,” Jon prompted his direwolf.
The large creature sniffed the ground excitedly before darting towards the Throne Room itself. The grand hall was always filled with tables and servants who were working quickly to prepare for the noble lords and ladies returning from the tourney, but Ghost clearly believed that this was where their target was.
Harry had to jog to keep up with the direwolf, and Oberyn and Jon followed close behind him. They burst into the Great Hall, drawing attention from all of the workers there, but Ghost trotted forward, completely unbothered by the hundreds of eyes staring at him. He made his way all the way down to the far end of the hall where the hulking metal frame of the Iron Throne sat. Sharp, jagged edges of melted steel sat ready to wait for its rightful ruler, but Ghost darted towards the right side of the throne.
While both Oberyn and Jon looked a bit confused, Harry knew exactly what Ghost was smelling.
“That’s where the small council usually sits,” he told them.
Oberyn’s face lit up. “Then one of them is the man we seek.”
It seemed so, Harry thought pensively. These were men that he’d worked alongside while his father had been injured from the assassination attempt. He couldn’t imagine any of them acting in this way, but it had to be someone truly clever to be able to operate beneath the Red Keep itself. They could easily disguise their intentions.
Grand Maester Pycelle, Littlefinger, Varys, Renly, and Ser Barristan. Each of these men were present for the small council meetings. Of course, Harry’s father was as well, but he certainly wouldn’t send cutthroats to try to take his own life, and Eddard had yet to be officially granted the title of Hand of the King.
These five men were the only possible culprits if Ghost’s nose was to be believed, and Harry quickly whittled down their numbers.
While Ser Barristan had been a servant of the Mad King, he’d been loyal long enough to King Robert that it seemed silly to imagine him as the culprit behind these attacks. The fact that he was aiding Harry also helped to exonerate him.
While Renly surely was a flamboyant, charismatic man, he didn’t seem the type to try to murder his own brother. Harry knew his uncle well enough from the many times he visited Dragonstone to trust that he wasn’t behind this plot. Besides, the letter in the hidden room they’d found had spoken of Renly as a potential source of information.
And thus, Harry was left with three options. Pycelle was old and lethargic, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of ordering others upon his behalf. Baelish was a people pleaser—someone who was all-too eager to help those in need. His skill in coin led him to being one of the most sought-after men in King’s Landing, but he hadn’t exactly demonstrated any obvious ambitions from the short time Harry had known him. He had few friends in court and fewer allies for his insignificant house.
No, it was Varys who seemed the most logical enemy of his family. Like Ser Barristan, he’d been a servant of the Mad King. He was skilled in the trade of secrets and whisperings across the Seven Kingdoms and beyond, but he often remained frustratingly aloof and exotic to those who approached him. He was the greatest mystery of all.
It would be so much easier were there a direct connection to the culprit behind this, but Harry was at least thankful to have Ghost’s nose to aid him in his quest.
Ghost seemed confused as he paced back and forth around the throne. Several of the servants were visibly growing nervous at the sight of the powerful beast moving back and forth.
“Follow the scent, Ghost,” Jon encouraged his direwolf.
Twisting around, Ghost started back out the way they came from. In the yard, Ghost froze again.
“It’s all these damned smells from the tourney muddling up his nose,” Jon scowled in frustration.
“Or it’s that the culprit moves through here so much that his scent is all over the place,” Oberyn reminded him.
Harry glanced past the gate out to the city beyond. “Everyone except for Grand Maester Pycelle is bound to be at the tourney grounds. We’ll have better luck tracking them down there with Ghost’s nose.”
It was quickly agreed upon, but just as they started for the gate, a woman on a horse came riding in swiftly.
“Margaery?” Harry exclaimed in surprise. “What are you doing here? I thought that you were—”
“There’s no time for that,” Margaery interrupted him, looking around frantically. “Have you seen your father anywhere here?”
“No,” Harry answered, feeling a bubble of panic rise up in his chest. Margaery wasn’t the type to get frazzled like this easily.
“I tried to keep up with him, but it took too long to get a horse,” Margaery explained quickly, the words tumbling out of her mouth at a breakneck pace. “Lord Baelish received some distressing news and gathered up your father and Lord Stark. I saw them leave the tourney grounds and head through the city. I figured that they’d be here.”
Harry looked up at the guards on duty and raised his voice loud. “Has Lord Baelish, Lord Stannis, or Lord Stark come through here recently?”
A young, fair-skinned man shouted back down. “They came through not twenty minutes past.”
Then they had to be somewhere here. They weren’t in the Throne Room, but they could’ve made it into the Small Hall, the Tower of the Hand, the Small Council chambers, or the Maidenvault by now.
“Ghost, find my father,” Jon ordered him.
As Ghost sniffed the air, Harry offered Margaery his hand as he helped her down from her horse. “Do you know what the worrying news is?” He asked.
“No,” Margaery replied regretfully. A young boy rushed forward to take her horse into the nearby stables. “A messenger visited Lord Baelish at his seat at the tourney, and he grew furious with whatever he heard.”
Could it be yet another attack? Were the bandits harassing a nearby town or slaughtering the merchants who were still travelling into the city day by day?
Suddenly, Ghost stopped sniffing the air. He lowered his body and bared his teeth in a silent snarl.
“Ghost, what—?” Jon hesitated, his hand gripping the hilt of his longsword.
Six guardsmen appeared around the corner of the Small Hall, coming from the bailey. They were Lannister men, dressed in red-scaled armour atop mail and dark-brown undergarments with ornate helms on their heads and spears in their hands. One of them jumped in surprise at seeing Ghost, who looked ready to lunge at Jon’s command. But then Ghost suddenly turned around and bared his teeth at another group of Lannister men coming out from a passageway that led off to the granary and the kitchen by the Throne Room.
Oberyn’s eyes narrowed as he glanced around. “There weren’t half as many men here when we first came through the yard.”
Harry was starting to feel uneasy, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint exactly why that was. This could be just a changing of the guard, but Ghost’s reaction was so peculiar. He hadn’t acted that way earlier when they passed through the yard and saw Lannister men.
“We should go look for your father,” Margaery told Harry. “He might know what’s going on.”
“Jon,” Harry said, quiet enough that the passing guardsmen wouldn’t overhear them. “Get Ghost to take us to our fathers. Now.”
“Ghost,” Jon hissed. The direwolf didn’t dare look away from the Lannisters, but he did perk up an ear at Jon. “We need to find my father right now, and you’re the only one who can lead us to him.”
Harry knew that direwolves were meant to be clever, but Ghost seemed to understand every single word that Jon said. His body remained tense as he stood back up to his full height, but he did as Jon bade and started sniffing the air. Almost instantly, he turned towards the open gate that led into the middle bailey and started towards it.
“Let’s go,” Harry told the group. As Ghost and Jon led them forward, he ushered Margaery ahead of him, right in the middle of their group, keeping himself and Oberyn at the back. “Stay close. Something’s wrong.”
They moved quickly towards the gate, and as they did, cries went up elsewhere in the yard. Glancing back, Harry saw even more Lannister men flooding in. Ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fif— no, there were fewer than that. Some were climbing the stairs onto the ramparts along the outer wall while others convened in the centre of the yard. Quite a few of them were staring back at Harry.
More Lannister men were on guard at the gate they had to pass through. The heavy portcullis sat over their heads, built with thick iron surrounding wooden beams to ensure that an attacking force would truly struggle to pass through.
“Close the gates!” A man shouted from the yard.
A moment later, the ground rumbled as the main gate into the Red Keep slammed closed.
Two of the Lannister men were already working the windlass that would seal the gate through to the middle bailey.
“Belay that order!” Harry shouted up at the window that led into the chamber above the small passageway they had to go through.
“On who’s authority?” Someone called back.
“Lord Harry Baratheon!” He answered, but the portcullis was still being lowered. Looking back down at the others, he gave them a clear order. “Run.”
Ghost darted forward, racing to get through the gate while it was still open. Jon gave chase close behind.
“They’re making it through!” The man in the yard shouted. “Release the bloody chains!”
Margaery ran as quickly as she could, lunging past the portcullis a fraction of a second before it was released and came crashing down in front of Harry’s face. She turned around on her heels and grabbed the portcullis, staring at Harry with undisguised fear on her face.
“Behind you!” She cried out, and Harry turned to see ten men racing towards him and Oberyn. Several others along the outer walls raised crossbows at them.
One Lannister guardsman up on the wall looked on in sheer surprise. “What are you doing? Don’t you know who that is?” He shouted, causing the charging men to pause and look up at him.
“Oh yeth, I do,” a tall, gaunt man said as he stepped behind the guardsman. He too was wearing Lannister armour, but he had an incredibly long goatee hanging from his chin. The poor guardsman in front of him didn’t even get a chance to look back before he slashed open his throat. “Rethenge againsth the one who cauthed me so much pain will be thweet. Capthure them! I want him to thuffer!” He was pointing right at Harry as he made his declaration.
Suddenly, Harry realised what had been bothering him before. The Lannister men had scale armour over top of mail armour, but it was the layer they had between the mail and their skin that caught his eye once more. He’d thought it merely a dark-brown vest or jacket, but as the men ran at him and Oberyn, he saw splashes of yellow alongside the brown.
These were the outlaws that’d been plaguing the Crown for months now. And here they were, dressed as Lannister soldiers, taking over the Red Keep.
Harry drew his blade as Oberyn did the same. Grim expressions settle in on their faces.
“Margaery,” Harry said to her behind his back. “You need to get out of here. Jon will take you someplace safe.”
“But what about you?” She asked, her voice thick with grief.
“I’ll find you,” he promised her. “Now, go.”
As Margaery took off, Oberyn shifted his stance into something more aggressive. “Try to stay close to me. We need to stay together if we’re to have even the slimmest chance of surviving this.”
Even the slimmest chance seemed outrageous for their situation. They were backed against a wall, two men against ten, with more holding back to replenish any of the outlaws who were lost. The reality was that they had no chance and no hope.
Unless Harry did something truly remarkable.
The outlaws had to narrow as they grew closer, overlapping one behind the other.
“You need to promise not to tell anyone else about what you’re going to see here today,” Harry told Oberyn.
The man glanced at him out of the corner of his eye with a puzzled expression. He gave a slight jerk of his chin and turned back to the approaching men. They were almost upon them now.
Removing his left hand from the hilt of his blade, Harry flicked his wrist downward and then back up again, like he was drawing the shape of a bowl in the air.
“Depulso!” He cried out, and a jet of light fired out of the palm of his hand.