Link - Tennis ball at 820km/h
(At fairly close range)
Also I made a mistake, I said baseball when it was a tennis ball.
[ASOIAF][SI] No Promises
- Thread starter Nugar
- Start date
(At fairly close range)
Also I made a mistake, I said baseball when it was a tennis ball.
- Pronouns
- Yes
That does seem to be the origin of the supposed 830kph tennis ball, but it was not an actual test, just a publicity stunt with no reliable measurments. The actual record appears to be 161 km/h. As for distance, even in the stunt footage you linked it's several times the distance we're talking about.
Of course in the story the short distance brings it's own issues - While Selmy might not be able to cut an arrow fired at him, he probably could smash the bow before the prince fired it.
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- Location
- The Holiest of Cities
Problem is, while he may have been able to set up a way of confirming identity with his subordinates, I very much doubt he was able to do so with Barristan.
- Pronouns
- Yes
Why poison the king and impersonate selmy(to presumably kill the prince and co) instead of just poisoning everyone?
Its impractacal, as step one is kill the borderline sword wizard and loot his shit. Then the fellow has to strip and equip a set of armor + garb they have little to no familiarity with and dispose of Selmy's body such that no one finds it and suspects that the faceless man is selmy. Then they are committed to maintaining the ruse for some time (selmy just disappearing after killing the prince and co would be completely against his character). Maintaining the disguise for such a time would be nearly impossible as the sword skills are as distinct as they are hard to fake.
- Pronouns
- Yes
Good question. Why don't you ask the SI why he felt he needed to check the identity of his trusted allies? The issue isn't if his actions are sensible or not, the issue is his actions being inconsistent.
Chapter 9: We're all going to look back on this and laugh.
- Location
- US-Ark
********* Chapter nine. We're all going to look back on this and laugh.
I kept the bow drawn, but lowered it to point at the floor.
"Ser Selmy," I began, "given the fact that we know Faceless men assassins to be a very real thing, we've already been attacked by people we thought we could trust, and apparently you have been fucking around elsewhere instead of keeping tabs on my fucking father, maybe you could prove you're who you look like?"
He gave me a cold, measuring look. "You say Faceless men did this?"
"No, I don't know what got this clusterfuck going. But right now the only people I trust are the ones on my side. Just tell me something only you and I would know." I pulled the bow back up, not quite aiming it back at my father's guard.
We eyed each other for a moment. I'd never spent a whole lot of personal time with the man, though of course we'd seen each other plenty, when he followed Robert around. He guarded Cersei on occasion, though of course she preferred Jaime.
"I once told you that it was a good thing you had a knack for the bow, because you'd never make a decent swordsman. Or a hammerer, for that matter."
"Pffssh, anyone could guess that," I replied. "What else you got?"
He breathed out through his nose, giving me The Look. "I once told your father that you were probably going to accidentally kill him one day, but you'd probably find a way to bring him back to life long enough to apologize. But I don't think you were there for that."
I lowered the bow again, releasing the draw. "Yeah, okay, that's fair." I turned and gestured at Robert. "The long and short of it is, my father killed Jaime, tried to kill Mom, killed a shitload of servants and apparently Ser Trant, and tried to kill me when I ran in after hearing screams. Sandor and I hit him with that couch. He's still alive, just unconscious." I paused, eyeing the fat man carefully. Fortunately, his chest was still rising and falling. "See? Still breathing. Now. That's what happened here. Now, what the fuuuuck is going on out there?"
Ser Selmy relaxed a bit when I pointed out Robert was still alive, returning his sword to its sheathe. Behind me, Sandor put his hand on Cayla's shoulder, and I heard the soft clack of the crossbow safety engaging.
"Word is the Queen tried to have your father killed," he said, kneeling by Robert and touching him briefly.
"Who's word? I just had lunch with her and Uncle Jaime. We killed a bunch of crabs and at least a couple of bottles of wine." I was honestly a bit indignant. I put a lot of goddamn work into making sure Cersei didn't try to have Robert murdered.
"Assassins are usually arranged ahead of time," he noted. "But that was what I heard, so I ran back here. Your father sent me away himself, when word of Westermen and Stormlanders fighting in the streets reached His Grace."
I blinked, and then frowned hard.
"As it happens, I saw the remains of Ser Trant, and I believe you. Those were hammer blows. Something must have truly enraged your father. Only in his greatest furies has he ever forgot who was friend or foe."
I shook my head. "Go back, go back. Start over from the beginning, when you were with Father. Who all was there, who came in?
"I was getting to that," he replied. "Your father had just finished a midday meal with Ser Trant as his guard. Lord Arryn was present, and I was having my own meal outside the kitchens. One of the Goldcloaks came in, I know not who, and announced that there was a brawl in the streets between Stormlanders and Westermen, with several dead already. His Grace wanted to go intervene, but being rather drunk, was persuaded to stay with Ser Trant as his guard. I was sent to accompany Lord Arryn to break up the fighting."
I nodded. The timeline didn't line up, but I didn't doubt his words.
"The Goldcloak wasn't lying, there were brawls breaking out across the city. We broke up one, and Lord Arryn demanded answers. The Westermen were all common guards and Goldcloaks, where the Stormlanders were a mix of guards and those sworn to House Baratheon. In every case, the Stormlanders were said to attack first, although they claimed the Westermen were involved in a plot to take over King's Landing." He paused. "A few even claimed that they were under orders to stop the plot, orders from one of the Baratheon bannermen, Ser Donnel Swann."
"So where is Lord Arryn? And when did you hear about this supposed assassination attempt?"
"Lord Arryn left orders to the Goldcloaks to break up the fighting, and I stayed to enforce the orders. He went to find your uncle Renly to get some orders from the top. However, not long after he left, a runner from the Keep found me and told me that I was needed back immediately, the Queen had attempted to murder the King."
"How the hell would he have known that?" I blurted. "Unless my mother was either dumb as a post, which she's not, or you could call trying to claw my father's eyes out a murder attempt, no one is going to know what happened, at least at first. That's stupid and it doesn't make any sense."
"I heard from one of the Baratheon men that they originally got their orders from Lord Bryce Caron, and that the attempt on King Robert was what started the fighting. But that was before the King killed Ser Jaime!" Cayla exclaimed.
Ser Barristan inhaled sharply. "Lord Caron should not be in the city. He left for his home yesterday, after receiving a raven."
"The time of events don't match," I muttered. "Someone is fucking with us. Fucking Faceless men."
"The Faceless men need the faces of dead men to take on their guise. Also, they actually kill their targets. No, this is not their work, but there are other magics in the world."
"Huh." I'd actually forgotten that bit about the faces. And that's a really good point about them actually killing their targets. This clusterfuck is someone a great deal less professional than that, which is also why I don't think Varys is behind it.
"It's not the regular swordsman the master fears," Sandor rumbled quietly. "It's the amateur that does what you would never expect."
Ser Selmy nodded seriously at that, like it was a profound wisdom.
Which it probably was. Words cannot express how much of a comfort Sandor is by my side. If there was any actual merit to the idea that anyone could deserve to be a prince, Sandor would be next in line for the crown.
"So we're looking for an idiot with magic?"
"Or perhaps Lord Caron changed his mind and returned to the city?" Cayla offered. "Didn't you say the simplest solutions were the ones most likely to be correct?" she asked me.
"That…! Is actually a good point. Well. We know someone is fucking with us, but we don't know how or who." I frowned. "Dammit." You know nothing, Jon Snow. But you're a fucking scholar compared to me right now.
"That's two Baratheon bannermen said to have been giving orders," Ser Barristan noted.
"Yes, but why would my father suddenly go berserk? And where the fuck is Pycelle?"
"You don't think Grand Maester Pycelle is…?" Cayla asked.
"No, but that old lech has a hell of a nose for trouble and has probably fled this mess. Frankly, that's what worries me. He should be up here pledging his loyalty, and checking my father for poisons. Unless he's got a damned good reason to not be here, he's risking his head." And I mean that literally. I will actually kill him.
"Big Brother?" Myrcella's timid voice came from behind us.
I turned to see her, her big green eyes wide at the sight of all the blood, as she partially hid behind the door frame.
"Yes, Celly?" I asked, turning to her.
"Someone's knocking on the other side of the wall in here. That knock you always use." She rapped out shave and a haircut, two bits on the doorframe.
"What." Other side of the wall? Sandor and I personally sealed the passages that let Varys little birds spy on the royal apartments. I also let him know that I didn't much like the idea of children having their tongues cut out. We came to an agreement.
Or at least, I thought we had.
"Show me," I ordered, striding forward.
Myrcella lead me to the far wall, where the headboard of the bed met it. I crept up slowly and pressed my ear to the wall.
After a moment, I heard it. Tap tap ta taptap, tap tap. Silence, then repeating.
I pulled out my hammer and rapped it sharply against the stone during one of the gaps. Then I reversed the sequence and tapped it back.
It came back again, faster. Then silence.
"It's too far away, we'll have to follow the sound," I announced. I then set up a slow, steady series of taps, then waited. Then I did it again, no pattern, just steady taps.
After another short wait, I heard the other end start that same slow, steady series of taps.
"Spread out, listen for the taps. There's a secret passage somewhere. Selmy, check the balcony. Cayla, I think my room is over there, try there. Sandor and I will go up and down the hall. Sound travels pretty far through stone."
No one argued. Ser Barristan reported negative from the balcony, so they weren't outside. The sound was lighter towards the stairs but louder the other way, but no louder than in Cersei's bedroom in my actual rooms. Eventually, by listening along the walls, we found a place where it sounded loud and clear, just on the other side of a wall. A wall that shouldn't have anything on the other side of it, but frankly the surprise of yet another secret tunnel wasn't much of a surprise. It was just turning out to be that kind of day.
When we found the spot closest to it, I yelled that we were going to break down the wall, to stand back. Then I told Sandor to break down the wall. I mean, I helped, but there's a big difference between my hammer swings and Sandor's. I know who does the real work. Pretty quickly, fairly thin stone blocks were shattered and a hole was opened.
Flickering light came from within, illuminating a pale young face. A teenage girl, my age or plus a bit. She opened her mouth and made a groaning sound, showing her lack of tongue, then she held out a scroll, tied with string and showing a cracked wax seal. She mimed opening it, and then handed it to me.
Then, before I could do more than gape, she fled back down the narrow passage.
"I think Varys is resigning his post," Sandor said quietly.
I ignored him and unrolled the parchment. It was stained with blood and some other fluid, with ink splotches and shaky handwriting.
Prince Eddard,
Evil magics are at work in King's Landing. Thoros of Myr had visions of danger in the flames, and was found torn to pieces this morning. Lord Arryn was killed in the streets by forces unknown. Three servants are missing. Another reports that your father was poisoned through his wine. May your reign be long and successful. An attempt was made on my life by magical means not an hour ago. I am injured but alive for now. I should never have told you I was so close to retirement. My only clue is a stain of shade of the evening found on a rag that had been thrown out, found by one of my little birds. My Prince, my deepest apologies for failing my task. It would have been an honor to serve you. If I survive, I will seek you out. Enemies have already infiltrated the city through means I cannot counter. You should flee King's Landing with the crown. Flee and survive, return with an army. Use that mind of yours as your greatest weapon and avenge your father.
-V
Sorceries can compel minds. Trust no one.
Rule well.
I kept the bow drawn, but lowered it to point at the floor.
"Ser Selmy," I began, "given the fact that we know Faceless men assassins to be a very real thing, we've already been attacked by people we thought we could trust, and apparently you have been fucking around elsewhere instead of keeping tabs on my fucking father, maybe you could prove you're who you look like?"
He gave me a cold, measuring look. "You say Faceless men did this?"
"No, I don't know what got this clusterfuck going. But right now the only people I trust are the ones on my side. Just tell me something only you and I would know." I pulled the bow back up, not quite aiming it back at my father's guard.
We eyed each other for a moment. I'd never spent a whole lot of personal time with the man, though of course we'd seen each other plenty, when he followed Robert around. He guarded Cersei on occasion, though of course she preferred Jaime.
"I once told you that it was a good thing you had a knack for the bow, because you'd never make a decent swordsman. Or a hammerer, for that matter."
"Pffssh, anyone could guess that," I replied. "What else you got?"
He breathed out through his nose, giving me The Look. "I once told your father that you were probably going to accidentally kill him one day, but you'd probably find a way to bring him back to life long enough to apologize. But I don't think you were there for that."
I lowered the bow again, releasing the draw. "Yeah, okay, that's fair." I turned and gestured at Robert. "The long and short of it is, my father killed Jaime, tried to kill Mom, killed a shitload of servants and apparently Ser Trant, and tried to kill me when I ran in after hearing screams. Sandor and I hit him with that couch. He's still alive, just unconscious." I paused, eyeing the fat man carefully. Fortunately, his chest was still rising and falling. "See? Still breathing. Now. That's what happened here. Now, what the fuuuuck is going on out there?"
Ser Selmy relaxed a bit when I pointed out Robert was still alive, returning his sword to its sheathe. Behind me, Sandor put his hand on Cayla's shoulder, and I heard the soft clack of the crossbow safety engaging.
"Word is the Queen tried to have your father killed," he said, kneeling by Robert and touching him briefly.
"Who's word? I just had lunch with her and Uncle Jaime. We killed a bunch of crabs and at least a couple of bottles of wine." I was honestly a bit indignant. I put a lot of goddamn work into making sure Cersei didn't try to have Robert murdered.
"Assassins are usually arranged ahead of time," he noted. "But that was what I heard, so I ran back here. Your father sent me away himself, when word of Westermen and Stormlanders fighting in the streets reached His Grace."
I blinked, and then frowned hard.
"As it happens, I saw the remains of Ser Trant, and I believe you. Those were hammer blows. Something must have truly enraged your father. Only in his greatest furies has he ever forgot who was friend or foe."
I shook my head. "Go back, go back. Start over from the beginning, when you were with Father. Who all was there, who came in?
"I was getting to that," he replied. "Your father had just finished a midday meal with Ser Trant as his guard. Lord Arryn was present, and I was having my own meal outside the kitchens. One of the Goldcloaks came in, I know not who, and announced that there was a brawl in the streets between Stormlanders and Westermen, with several dead already. His Grace wanted to go intervene, but being rather drunk, was persuaded to stay with Ser Trant as his guard. I was sent to accompany Lord Arryn to break up the fighting."
I nodded. The timeline didn't line up, but I didn't doubt his words.
"The Goldcloak wasn't lying, there were brawls breaking out across the city. We broke up one, and Lord Arryn demanded answers. The Westermen were all common guards and Goldcloaks, where the Stormlanders were a mix of guards and those sworn to House Baratheon. In every case, the Stormlanders were said to attack first, although they claimed the Westermen were involved in a plot to take over King's Landing." He paused. "A few even claimed that they were under orders to stop the plot, orders from one of the Baratheon bannermen, Ser Donnel Swann."
"So where is Lord Arryn? And when did you hear about this supposed assassination attempt?"
"Lord Arryn left orders to the Goldcloaks to break up the fighting, and I stayed to enforce the orders. He went to find your uncle Renly to get some orders from the top. However, not long after he left, a runner from the Keep found me and told me that I was needed back immediately, the Queen had attempted to murder the King."
"How the hell would he have known that?" I blurted. "Unless my mother was either dumb as a post, which she's not, or you could call trying to claw my father's eyes out a murder attempt, no one is going to know what happened, at least at first. That's stupid and it doesn't make any sense."
"I heard from one of the Baratheon men that they originally got their orders from Lord Bryce Caron, and that the attempt on King Robert was what started the fighting. But that was before the King killed Ser Jaime!" Cayla exclaimed.
Ser Barristan inhaled sharply. "Lord Caron should not be in the city. He left for his home yesterday, after receiving a raven."
"The time of events don't match," I muttered. "Someone is fucking with us. Fucking Faceless men."
"The Faceless men need the faces of dead men to take on their guise. Also, they actually kill their targets. No, this is not their work, but there are other magics in the world."
"Huh." I'd actually forgotten that bit about the faces. And that's a really good point about them actually killing their targets. This clusterfuck is someone a great deal less professional than that, which is also why I don't think Varys is behind it.
"It's not the regular swordsman the master fears," Sandor rumbled quietly. "It's the amateur that does what you would never expect."
Ser Selmy nodded seriously at that, like it was a profound wisdom.
Which it probably was. Words cannot express how much of a comfort Sandor is by my side. If there was any actual merit to the idea that anyone could deserve to be a prince, Sandor would be next in line for the crown.
"So we're looking for an idiot with magic?"
"Or perhaps Lord Caron changed his mind and returned to the city?" Cayla offered. "Didn't you say the simplest solutions were the ones most likely to be correct?" she asked me.
"That…! Is actually a good point. Well. We know someone is fucking with us, but we don't know how or who." I frowned. "Dammit." You know nothing, Jon Snow. But you're a fucking scholar compared to me right now.
"That's two Baratheon bannermen said to have been giving orders," Ser Barristan noted.
"Yes, but why would my father suddenly go berserk? And where the fuck is Pycelle?"
"You don't think Grand Maester Pycelle is…?" Cayla asked.
"No, but that old lech has a hell of a nose for trouble and has probably fled this mess. Frankly, that's what worries me. He should be up here pledging his loyalty, and checking my father for poisons. Unless he's got a damned good reason to not be here, he's risking his head." And I mean that literally. I will actually kill him.
"Big Brother?" Myrcella's timid voice came from behind us.
I turned to see her, her big green eyes wide at the sight of all the blood, as she partially hid behind the door frame.
"Yes, Celly?" I asked, turning to her.
"Someone's knocking on the other side of the wall in here. That knock you always use." She rapped out shave and a haircut, two bits on the doorframe.
"What." Other side of the wall? Sandor and I personally sealed the passages that let Varys little birds spy on the royal apartments. I also let him know that I didn't much like the idea of children having their tongues cut out. We came to an agreement.
Or at least, I thought we had.
"Show me," I ordered, striding forward.
Myrcella lead me to the far wall, where the headboard of the bed met it. I crept up slowly and pressed my ear to the wall.
After a moment, I heard it. Tap tap ta taptap, tap tap. Silence, then repeating.
I pulled out my hammer and rapped it sharply against the stone during one of the gaps. Then I reversed the sequence and tapped it back.
It came back again, faster. Then silence.
"It's too far away, we'll have to follow the sound," I announced. I then set up a slow, steady series of taps, then waited. Then I did it again, no pattern, just steady taps.
After another short wait, I heard the other end start that same slow, steady series of taps.
"Spread out, listen for the taps. There's a secret passage somewhere. Selmy, check the balcony. Cayla, I think my room is over there, try there. Sandor and I will go up and down the hall. Sound travels pretty far through stone."
No one argued. Ser Barristan reported negative from the balcony, so they weren't outside. The sound was lighter towards the stairs but louder the other way, but no louder than in Cersei's bedroom in my actual rooms. Eventually, by listening along the walls, we found a place where it sounded loud and clear, just on the other side of a wall. A wall that shouldn't have anything on the other side of it, but frankly the surprise of yet another secret tunnel wasn't much of a surprise. It was just turning out to be that kind of day.
When we found the spot closest to it, I yelled that we were going to break down the wall, to stand back. Then I told Sandor to break down the wall. I mean, I helped, but there's a big difference between my hammer swings and Sandor's. I know who does the real work. Pretty quickly, fairly thin stone blocks were shattered and a hole was opened.
Flickering light came from within, illuminating a pale young face. A teenage girl, my age or plus a bit. She opened her mouth and made a groaning sound, showing her lack of tongue, then she held out a scroll, tied with string and showing a cracked wax seal. She mimed opening it, and then handed it to me.
Then, before I could do more than gape, she fled back down the narrow passage.
"I think Varys is resigning his post," Sandor said quietly.
I ignored him and unrolled the parchment. It was stained with blood and some other fluid, with ink splotches and shaky handwriting.
Prince Eddard,
Evil magics are at work in King's Landing. Thoros of Myr had visions of danger in the flames, and was found torn to pieces this morning. Lord Arryn was killed in the streets by forces unknown. Three servants are missing. Another reports that your father was poisoned through his wine. May your reign be long and successful. An attempt was made on my life by magical means not an hour ago. I am injured but alive for now. I should never have told you I was so close to retirement. My only clue is a stain of shade of the evening found on a rag that had been thrown out, found by one of my little birds. My Prince, my deepest apologies for failing my task. It would have been an honor to serve you. If I survive, I will seek you out. Enemies have already infiltrated the city through means I cannot counter. You should flee King's Landing with the crown. Flee and survive, return with an army. Use that mind of yours as your greatest weapon and avenge your father.
-V
Sorceries can compel minds. Trust no one.
Rule well.
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RichardWhereat
Feanor did nothing wrong.
- Location
- Australia
That was a good chapter. It resolved it by not resolving a damned thing.
So, Varys is saying that Warlocks, or Euron did this. Likely Euron given that Nugar does interesting shit.
So, Varys is saying that Warlocks, or Euron did this. Likely Euron given that Nugar does interesting shit.
Varys is giving words of loyalty, which mean nothing.
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This man death flags.
Though this implies that it was opened already by someone else.
Foadar
Tolkien Loving Swampman
- Location
- A drained swamp
- Pronouns
- He/Him/Equivalent
It's the Maesters. It is always the Maesters.
- Location
- Hell
- Pronouns
- She/Her
No clue why this is surprising. Varys was basically a proto-nationalist. He wanted what would be the best for the country. In canon, the ruling party was fucked and taking everything with them, and so he betrayed them.
In here, we have our SI, who is basically everything Varys wants. By the standards of the time, he's a genius. He's more logical than pretty much every other noble. He's come up with amazing advancements that will bring wealth, health, and prosperity to Westeros. All of this, and he's the heir to the throne? He has likely had Varys's loyalty for a very long time.
- Location
- US-Ark
This man death flags.
Though this implies that it was opened already by someone else.
That was what the little bird girl implied by miming opening it. That she was the one to crack it. Because she's suddenly pretty concerned about her future employment prospects and wanted to know if she needed to GTFO. She GTFO. Rats leaving a sinking ship, man.
You're both kinda right, I think. I'd like to think that Varys would hold off on overthrowing Eddard until after he saw whether or not he was going to actually perform as king. But as Richard pointed out, words are cheap. It costs him nothing to profess his loyalty, especially now that he doesn't believe any of his other plans have good chances anymore. Best case scenario given what Varys knows, he lives, Eddard lives, he hooks back up with Eddard later. Chastised for failure but Eddard doesn't punish sincere effort. Worst case scenario (for Varys), he dies, and his words mean nothing but what Eddard thinks they mean.
I need to edit this some, to make it clear that Varys believes Robert to be dead. He doesn't have all the info yet. Hold on.
RichardWhereat
Feanor did nothing wrong.
- Location
- Australia
No. In ASOIAF, Varys was a Blackfyre supporter who worked to ensure an unstable realm. Why else would he support the bastard claim over Stannis and Eddard? With the bastard comes war, rebellion, and capricious dealings with smallfolk.
Nothing about that was for the good of a stable state, it was for the good of an unstable state, to allow a Blackfyre pretending to be a Targaryen to come in and bring stability.
At least Cayla will undoubtedly go with Eddard's bugout gang so as not to be come a casualty of whomever is tricking folks to kill off Lannisters & Baratheons & other loyal minions......
Tho if King Robert doesn't recovers from his madness...
what will Ser Selmy choose to serve as a White Cloak Knight .... another madden King out of his grog or the young one..
Tho if King Robert doesn't recovers from his madness...
what will Ser Selmy choose to serve as a White Cloak Knight .... another madden King out of his grog or the young one..
- Location
- Underground
This.
Varys likely is thinking F!Aegon taking over is the best thing for the realm, though. He and Illyrio were having him raised to be the 'perfect prince' after all...
So being 'for the realm' might not be bullshit from his view, it's just that he's far from objective on this.
RichardWhereat
Feanor did nothing wrong.
- Location
- Australia
Robert, of course. He only left Joffreys service because he was forced out. He will serve in his role, and do his duty.
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Do remember that the Blackfyre supporter part is just a theory. Targaeryn? Sure. But Blackfyre isn't confirmed ASAIK.
RichardWhereat
Feanor did nothing wrong.
- Location
- Australia
ASAIK? The fuck?
Sure, it's not confirmed, it's just so heavily slanted that way that, at this point, if it's wrong, it'll be weird. And even then, he's done a bit to fuck up the Baratheon rule, and a hell of a lot to fuck up stability for Westeros. He's not a protonationalist, he only wants to come off that way.
Sure, it's not confirmed, it's just so heavily slanted that way that, at this point, if it's wrong, it'll be weird. And even then, he's done a bit to fuck up the Baratheon rule, and a hell of a lot to fuck up stability for Westeros. He's not a protonationalist, he only wants to come off that way.
- Location
- the frozen part of Hell
Well this is fuckey.
- Location
- Texas
This is that chaos I was hoping for. Great chapter!
Chapter 10: Nope!
- Location
- US-Ark
Ugh, 53 days old. I went from nearly a post a week to almost two months no chapter. I am sad.
xxxxxxxxx Chapter 10: Nope!
Nope. Nope nope nooope.
I shoved the letter into Sandor's hands and headed for Cersei's rooms.
"Grab your shit, Sandor. We're getting the fuck out of here."
Cayla practically danced with anticipation as Sandor briefly read the letter, then he passed it to her and headed for his room.
"What? Why? What does the letter say?" Ser Barristan demanded.
"Bad things," I replied, still walking. He was torn between following me, or staying for his turn at the letter.
In the end, he stayed, as Cayla was apparently frozen in shock.
I ignored him for the moment, headed for Myrcella's bedroom. If memory serves me right she's got a… ah hah! One child sized backpack, fine leather with embroidery, just big enough for the possessions a child might want to carry. Cersei thought it was beneath a princess to carry her own things, but big brother doesn't think that way. I put it on her bed.
Cayla caught up to me a moment later, eyes wide. "You're going to leave?" she asked, voice high.
"Mmm hmm."
"But what if it's a trap? Or a trick? Maybe that's what they want you to do?" She didn't sound like she was trying to convince me to stay, just trying to see my reasoning. Part of Cayla's job was picking holes in my ideas.
"I'm sure Varys isn't behind it, and I have ways out of the city only he knows about. I might even have one he doesn't know about. We'll be safer from a magical assassin on the move than in a known location. We should be able to outrun large groups of armsmen or outfight small groups. Also, they might not even attack us, I am still the Prince."
"Glasstown?" she asked, referring to the semi-city a few miles upriver that was the main industrial center for most of my businesses.
"It's tempting. We've got a lot of allies in Glasstown, but they're workers, not soldiers. No, it's probably better to keep going. I need to get Mom and Celly to Casterly Rock where they'll be safe. Either from this plot, or the King himself. I can come back later to straighten things out."
"But that will leave King's Landing open for the taking," she pointed out.
"The King still lives," I pointed out. "And he," I said, pointed at the newly arrived Ser Selmy, "is going to make sure it stays that way."
"What's this mean?" he demanded, shaking the letter. "Varys wasn't going to retire, was he?"
I shook my head. "No, that's a secret code for me. It proves that it's him who wrote it."
"Ah, I see." The old Kingsguard was well familiar with codes and pass phrases. "Do you believe him? About Jon Arryn."
"I don't see why he'd lie. If this is a coup, killing Varys and Lord Arryn would be higher on my list than the King. You and I both know that Jon Arryn runs the Seven Kingdoms more than my father does. Even if you failed to kill the King, you'd either be in position to put your own Hand in place, or just wait for him to inevitably fail trying to manage it on his own. And Varys… Yeah, if I was going to run a coup, I'd kill the shit out of Varys."
He gave me a look, but nodded slightly.
"It's interesting that he thinks my father is dead from poison. We know he's still alive, but attacked Mother. Some sort of spell to control him seems more likely than poison." I frowned. "Or he found out about the poison before he drank it and decided that Mother was the one behind it." I frowned harder, looking down. "Actually, that'd explain a lot of things."
"That the Queen did try to kill the King?" Selmy asked.
I held up a finger to dispute, then lowered it. "Actually, that would, too."
"Eddard!" Cayla gasped.
"No, I mean, yeah. If someone tried to poison my father, but he blamed it on my mother, that's what I was thinking. That still assumes an external enemy behind everything. But if the person calling the shots was Mom… Jon Arryn is no friend of the Lannisters. And neither is Varys."
She did, after all, try to kill Robert in the original timeline. I've been assuming I had her under control, but that may be arrogant of me. I have outside context knowledge, who the fuck else was out to destabilize the realm? Baelish, but I killed his ass literally the first second I saw him. Varys, but even discarding the slight amount of trust I have for him, this would be incompetent as fuck for him.
"Mom has the motive…" I admitted, then shook my head. "Not the means, though. Qartheen warlocks aren't grown in the West. She'd have had to send people to go hire them. Varys would have noticed."
"You mean like your trade expeditions to Essos?" Cayla asked.
Because pointing out the obvious was also her job, even if she clearly didn't think I should be seriously considering my mother's potential guilt in front of a man who wouldn't hesitate to chop her head off and who I couldn't actually stop if he decided to. But I was thinking, so I didn't stop.
"Okay, but who would she send that she could be sure wouldn't give up the secret. Tyrion likes me better than her, nobody else on those trips has any-motherfucking Lancel."
I never did get a chance to find out what blood type he was. And Cersei's default solution to any problem starts with 'fuck a family member'. To head that off, I'd gotten him removed from his position as Robert's wine carrier and sent him as far away from Cersei as possible.
To Essos. Because it seemed like a great idea at the time. But it's not like I can ban him from the city, just make sure he has plenty to do elsewhere.
Shiiiiit.
This could actually be Cersei.
Both Cayla and Selmy could see my conflict in my eyes. I looked squarely at Selmy.
"I'm taking my mother and sister away from King's Landing," I announced.
"You think she did it," Selmy replied, almost casual in his tone.
"No," I said honestly. "I don't believe she would go around me like that. She loves me and trusts me and I think she would have asked for my help to kill my father. I believe that someone else is trying to set us at odds with one another, Baratheon versus Lannister. And they're doing a good job."
"But she could have done it."
"But she could have," I agreed. "Is that a problem?"
Are you going to kill your Prince today?
Ser Selmy very slowly shook his head, knowing that to kill Cersei, he'd have to kill me first. "I suppose… given how tense the situation is… separating everyone and giving us time to figure out who is truly behind it is a good idea." He paused and gave me a steely look. "But if she is behind it all…"
"We'll cross that bridge if we come to it. Given how stupid this whole mess is…" I shrugged. Truthfully, I don't know what I'd do if Cersei was behind all this. Leave her Tears of Lys and hope the matter resolves itself, I guess.
But she's not behind it, I'm sure of it. The whole thing with the pregnancy wouldn't make any sense if she was just planning to kill Robert.
Unless that was a ploy to convince me…
No, that way lies madness.
"Cayla, do you know where your towel is?" I asked.
She nodded without hesitation. "My pack is in my room. Should I go get it now?"
Of course she does. She's the definition of a hoopy frood.
"No, we'll stick together. Put together a pack for my mom and Celly. Keep it light, Sandor and I have the gear covered. Just make sure the girl stuff is handled."
She nodded and hurried into the bedroom.
"Ser Selmy, I'm going to check my father again." At his nod, I knelt down beside Robert and felt his pulse. Still really high, too high to count accurately or identify any arrhythmias, but it was still beating and he was still breathing. His eyes were still dilated and bloodshot, so no real change. I reported it as such to his bodyguard.
He nodded solemnly. "Do you believe he's been poisoned?"
I nodded, watching as Cayla bustled through and into Myrcella's bedroom with a bag, my sister following behind. "I've never seen him in a full Fury, but I find it hard to believe it could keep him like that even after he's unconscious. I'm betting some sort of poison, though perhaps not a full dose. Pycelle could tell us more, don't let the old pervert lie to you, he's actually an expert on poisons. Fascinated by them, really. If he says otherwise, string him up by his balls."
"And you're not an expert in poisons?" Selmy's tone betrayed his doubt.
I shrugged ruefully. "I know some, yeah, but only the ones that directly relate to my research. I haven't had time to look at them all. Pycelle has probably been studying poisons for sixty years or better. I'm fourteen years old, period. A tortoise in Glasstown will win a race to the Lion's Gate against a rabbit, no matter how fast the rabbit is, if the rabbit starts in Casterly Rock."
He allowed the point. I had a reputation for genius, but despite how useful unquestioning trust in my ideas would be, I fuck up waaaaay too much for that. I try to make sure people don't overestimate me.
"So you're going to Casterly Rock?"
"Maybe. Eventually. Actually, since our mysterious enemy has been setting up ambushes all over the place, I might just do something unexpected. I'm thinking of taking a ship south, and going the long way around. The Martells owe me a favor. Actually, they owe me a shitload of favors, but given how much they started off hating me I'm probably only going to see one or two repaid." Fucking Dornish.
Sandor came back in, wearing his travel pack. Despite his enormous size and strength, his pack was actually lighter than mine, if admittedly a bit bulkier. More of our bulky comfort items were in there, like blankets and sleeping bags. He's stronger than me, but his main job is fighter. In a pinch, either of us can carry the other's pack as well, though in my case I'm useless for literally anything else. The encumbrance struggle is real, but the thing about my skills is that most of them are useless without tools and supplies.
"Cayla? You about done in there?" I called.
"Just about, Prince! Princess Myrcella wants to bring her music box."
"Let her put it in her backpack. But she has to carry it herself."
"I will!" Celly's high voice insisted.
I poked my head into my sister's bedroom. "Okay, sounds good. I'm counting on you, Celly." I gave her a double thumbs up, which she returned.
Then I headed to my mother's room.
"Mother? Are you still awake?" I asked.
"Mmmmgh," she replied, stirring slightly.
"Mother, we've got to leave. We need to see if you can walk. It's going to be tough but we've got to get you and Celly somewhere safe."
"S'fe? Whurr is safe?" she asked, her eyes widening in alarm that cut through the fog.
"Casterly Rock."
*********
And so, the adventuring party sallied forth. Their first mission: Escape King's Landing.
Despite his obvious usefulness, Ser Selmy had to stay behind and guard the King. Sandor lead the party, his armored bulk, shield, and sword prepared to deal with opposition. Cayla, still carrying the crossbow, supported my mother in the middle. Cersei was doing a better job of walking on her own than I feared, and Myrcella stayed glued to her side. I brought up the rear. I had my big pack. I had my mother's little pack of just the essentials for her and my sister. I also had Jamie's corpse, wrapped up in a rug that probably cost a thousand dragons. I was perversely grateful that, in obliterating my Uncle's chest, Robert had inadvertently drained much of his heavy, heavy blood. He was still a bulky ass dead body, though.
I would have left the body behind, but Cersei wouldn't have it. 'He needs to be with me! He needs to go home!' Okay. We don't have time to argue. But if we run into trouble, I was going to ditch him. I couldn't fight like that. I could barely walk like that.
First we had to leave the keep and grounds, grabbing Cayla's pack on the way.
I actually had a fairly secret way out that I'm pretty sure even Varys didn't know about, involving rappelling down the seaside wall and cliff onto an inflatable, low profile raft made of cow skins and dead branches. The idea was actually to hold onto the raft from below, disguised as a tangle of floating limbs getting washed out to sea, and make my way to a deserted area of coastline. Sadly, that wasn't feasible with the girls.
I had plans for a sliding rope, disguised as a stay for a crow's nest style watchtower. But for various reasons it had never been implemented.
The backup method was to walk out the front gate. Uncomplicated. Elegant. Stupid. The front gate has guards, and if you were securing the castle, it's the first place to secure.
So naturally it went perfectly. Next was to get to Cayla's house and the Royal Stables to get our horses.
That was where things went wrong.
AN: Sorry for the delay, and the short chapter. I'm having some issues with insomnia, and when I do sleep, it's crappy sleep where I wake up every hour or so, so I'm basically a zombie. Got an appointment with a sleep specialist this Tuesday. Also, one of the reasons I originally went for an in media res opening with them already outside the castle was because I knew realistic logistics for actually fleeing a hostile city were going to tie my brain in knots, and lookie here. I was right. It's like that goddamn puzzle with the rowboat, the fox, the hen, and the corn. Or the better rowboat puzzle with the wife, the hooker, and the bag of money.
xxxxxxxxx Chapter 10: Nope!
Nope. Nope nope nooope.
I shoved the letter into Sandor's hands and headed for Cersei's rooms.
"Grab your shit, Sandor. We're getting the fuck out of here."
Cayla practically danced with anticipation as Sandor briefly read the letter, then he passed it to her and headed for his room.
"What? Why? What does the letter say?" Ser Barristan demanded.
"Bad things," I replied, still walking. He was torn between following me, or staying for his turn at the letter.
In the end, he stayed, as Cayla was apparently frozen in shock.
I ignored him for the moment, headed for Myrcella's bedroom. If memory serves me right she's got a… ah hah! One child sized backpack, fine leather with embroidery, just big enough for the possessions a child might want to carry. Cersei thought it was beneath a princess to carry her own things, but big brother doesn't think that way. I put it on her bed.
Cayla caught up to me a moment later, eyes wide. "You're going to leave?" she asked, voice high.
"Mmm hmm."
"But what if it's a trap? Or a trick? Maybe that's what they want you to do?" She didn't sound like she was trying to convince me to stay, just trying to see my reasoning. Part of Cayla's job was picking holes in my ideas.
"I'm sure Varys isn't behind it, and I have ways out of the city only he knows about. I might even have one he doesn't know about. We'll be safer from a magical assassin on the move than in a known location. We should be able to outrun large groups of armsmen or outfight small groups. Also, they might not even attack us, I am still the Prince."
"Glasstown?" she asked, referring to the semi-city a few miles upriver that was the main industrial center for most of my businesses.
"It's tempting. We've got a lot of allies in Glasstown, but they're workers, not soldiers. No, it's probably better to keep going. I need to get Mom and Celly to Casterly Rock where they'll be safe. Either from this plot, or the King himself. I can come back later to straighten things out."
"But that will leave King's Landing open for the taking," she pointed out.
"The King still lives," I pointed out. "And he," I said, pointed at the newly arrived Ser Selmy, "is going to make sure it stays that way."
"What's this mean?" he demanded, shaking the letter. "Varys wasn't going to retire, was he?"
I shook my head. "No, that's a secret code for me. It proves that it's him who wrote it."
"Ah, I see." The old Kingsguard was well familiar with codes and pass phrases. "Do you believe him? About Jon Arryn."
"I don't see why he'd lie. If this is a coup, killing Varys and Lord Arryn would be higher on my list than the King. You and I both know that Jon Arryn runs the Seven Kingdoms more than my father does. Even if you failed to kill the King, you'd either be in position to put your own Hand in place, or just wait for him to inevitably fail trying to manage it on his own. And Varys… Yeah, if I was going to run a coup, I'd kill the shit out of Varys."
He gave me a look, but nodded slightly.
"It's interesting that he thinks my father is dead from poison. We know he's still alive, but attacked Mother. Some sort of spell to control him seems more likely than poison." I frowned. "Or he found out about the poison before he drank it and decided that Mother was the one behind it." I frowned harder, looking down. "Actually, that'd explain a lot of things."
"That the Queen did try to kill the King?" Selmy asked.
I held up a finger to dispute, then lowered it. "Actually, that would, too."
"Eddard!" Cayla gasped.
"No, I mean, yeah. If someone tried to poison my father, but he blamed it on my mother, that's what I was thinking. That still assumes an external enemy behind everything. But if the person calling the shots was Mom… Jon Arryn is no friend of the Lannisters. And neither is Varys."
She did, after all, try to kill Robert in the original timeline. I've been assuming I had her under control, but that may be arrogant of me. I have outside context knowledge, who the fuck else was out to destabilize the realm? Baelish, but I killed his ass literally the first second I saw him. Varys, but even discarding the slight amount of trust I have for him, this would be incompetent as fuck for him.
"Mom has the motive…" I admitted, then shook my head. "Not the means, though. Qartheen warlocks aren't grown in the West. She'd have had to send people to go hire them. Varys would have noticed."
"You mean like your trade expeditions to Essos?" Cayla asked.
Because pointing out the obvious was also her job, even if she clearly didn't think I should be seriously considering my mother's potential guilt in front of a man who wouldn't hesitate to chop her head off and who I couldn't actually stop if he decided to. But I was thinking, so I didn't stop.
"Okay, but who would she send that she could be sure wouldn't give up the secret. Tyrion likes me better than her, nobody else on those trips has any-motherfucking Lancel."
I never did get a chance to find out what blood type he was. And Cersei's default solution to any problem starts with 'fuck a family member'. To head that off, I'd gotten him removed from his position as Robert's wine carrier and sent him as far away from Cersei as possible.
To Essos. Because it seemed like a great idea at the time. But it's not like I can ban him from the city, just make sure he has plenty to do elsewhere.
Shiiiiit.
This could actually be Cersei.
Both Cayla and Selmy could see my conflict in my eyes. I looked squarely at Selmy.
"I'm taking my mother and sister away from King's Landing," I announced.
"You think she did it," Selmy replied, almost casual in his tone.
"No," I said honestly. "I don't believe she would go around me like that. She loves me and trusts me and I think she would have asked for my help to kill my father. I believe that someone else is trying to set us at odds with one another, Baratheon versus Lannister. And they're doing a good job."
"But she could have done it."
"But she could have," I agreed. "Is that a problem?"
Are you going to kill your Prince today?
Ser Selmy very slowly shook his head, knowing that to kill Cersei, he'd have to kill me first. "I suppose… given how tense the situation is… separating everyone and giving us time to figure out who is truly behind it is a good idea." He paused and gave me a steely look. "But if she is behind it all…"
"We'll cross that bridge if we come to it. Given how stupid this whole mess is…" I shrugged. Truthfully, I don't know what I'd do if Cersei was behind all this. Leave her Tears of Lys and hope the matter resolves itself, I guess.
But she's not behind it, I'm sure of it. The whole thing with the pregnancy wouldn't make any sense if she was just planning to kill Robert.
Unless that was a ploy to convince me…
No, that way lies madness.
"Cayla, do you know where your towel is?" I asked.
She nodded without hesitation. "My pack is in my room. Should I go get it now?"
Of course she does. She's the definition of a hoopy frood.
"No, we'll stick together. Put together a pack for my mom and Celly. Keep it light, Sandor and I have the gear covered. Just make sure the girl stuff is handled."
She nodded and hurried into the bedroom.
"Ser Selmy, I'm going to check my father again." At his nod, I knelt down beside Robert and felt his pulse. Still really high, too high to count accurately or identify any arrhythmias, but it was still beating and he was still breathing. His eyes were still dilated and bloodshot, so no real change. I reported it as such to his bodyguard.
He nodded solemnly. "Do you believe he's been poisoned?"
I nodded, watching as Cayla bustled through and into Myrcella's bedroom with a bag, my sister following behind. "I've never seen him in a full Fury, but I find it hard to believe it could keep him like that even after he's unconscious. I'm betting some sort of poison, though perhaps not a full dose. Pycelle could tell us more, don't let the old pervert lie to you, he's actually an expert on poisons. Fascinated by them, really. If he says otherwise, string him up by his balls."
"And you're not an expert in poisons?" Selmy's tone betrayed his doubt.
I shrugged ruefully. "I know some, yeah, but only the ones that directly relate to my research. I haven't had time to look at them all. Pycelle has probably been studying poisons for sixty years or better. I'm fourteen years old, period. A tortoise in Glasstown will win a race to the Lion's Gate against a rabbit, no matter how fast the rabbit is, if the rabbit starts in Casterly Rock."
He allowed the point. I had a reputation for genius, but despite how useful unquestioning trust in my ideas would be, I fuck up waaaaay too much for that. I try to make sure people don't overestimate me.
"So you're going to Casterly Rock?"
"Maybe. Eventually. Actually, since our mysterious enemy has been setting up ambushes all over the place, I might just do something unexpected. I'm thinking of taking a ship south, and going the long way around. The Martells owe me a favor. Actually, they owe me a shitload of favors, but given how much they started off hating me I'm probably only going to see one or two repaid." Fucking Dornish.
Sandor came back in, wearing his travel pack. Despite his enormous size and strength, his pack was actually lighter than mine, if admittedly a bit bulkier. More of our bulky comfort items were in there, like blankets and sleeping bags. He's stronger than me, but his main job is fighter. In a pinch, either of us can carry the other's pack as well, though in my case I'm useless for literally anything else. The encumbrance struggle is real, but the thing about my skills is that most of them are useless without tools and supplies.
"Cayla? You about done in there?" I called.
"Just about, Prince! Princess Myrcella wants to bring her music box."
"Let her put it in her backpack. But she has to carry it herself."
"I will!" Celly's high voice insisted.
I poked my head into my sister's bedroom. "Okay, sounds good. I'm counting on you, Celly." I gave her a double thumbs up, which she returned.
Then I headed to my mother's room.
"Mother? Are you still awake?" I asked.
"Mmmmgh," she replied, stirring slightly.
"Mother, we've got to leave. We need to see if you can walk. It's going to be tough but we've got to get you and Celly somewhere safe."
"S'fe? Whurr is safe?" she asked, her eyes widening in alarm that cut through the fog.
"Casterly Rock."
*********
And so, the adventuring party sallied forth. Their first mission: Escape King's Landing.
Despite his obvious usefulness, Ser Selmy had to stay behind and guard the King. Sandor lead the party, his armored bulk, shield, and sword prepared to deal with opposition. Cayla, still carrying the crossbow, supported my mother in the middle. Cersei was doing a better job of walking on her own than I feared, and Myrcella stayed glued to her side. I brought up the rear. I had my big pack. I had my mother's little pack of just the essentials for her and my sister. I also had Jamie's corpse, wrapped up in a rug that probably cost a thousand dragons. I was perversely grateful that, in obliterating my Uncle's chest, Robert had inadvertently drained much of his heavy, heavy blood. He was still a bulky ass dead body, though.
I would have left the body behind, but Cersei wouldn't have it. 'He needs to be with me! He needs to go home!' Okay. We don't have time to argue. But if we run into trouble, I was going to ditch him. I couldn't fight like that. I could barely walk like that.
First we had to leave the keep and grounds, grabbing Cayla's pack on the way.
I actually had a fairly secret way out that I'm pretty sure even Varys didn't know about, involving rappelling down the seaside wall and cliff onto an inflatable, low profile raft made of cow skins and dead branches. The idea was actually to hold onto the raft from below, disguised as a tangle of floating limbs getting washed out to sea, and make my way to a deserted area of coastline. Sadly, that wasn't feasible with the girls.
I had plans for a sliding rope, disguised as a stay for a crow's nest style watchtower. But for various reasons it had never been implemented.
The backup method was to walk out the front gate. Uncomplicated. Elegant. Stupid. The front gate has guards, and if you were securing the castle, it's the first place to secure.
So naturally it went perfectly. Next was to get to Cayla's house and the Royal Stables to get our horses.
That was where things went wrong.
AN: Sorry for the delay, and the short chapter. I'm having some issues with insomnia, and when I do sleep, it's crappy sleep where I wake up every hour or so, so I'm basically a zombie. Got an appointment with a sleep specialist this Tuesday. Also, one of the reasons I originally went for an in media res opening with them already outside the castle was because I knew realistic logistics for actually fleeing a hostile city were going to tie my brain in knots, and lookie here. I was right. It's like that goddamn puzzle with the rowboat, the fox, the hen, and the corn. Or the better rowboat puzzle with the wife, the hooker, and the bag of money.
- Location
- England
Been there, done that.
Protip: Make sure they check for sleep apnea. It's an easy test to do, you just sleep a night with an oxygen sensor on your thumb. It's also very common, especially for people who are a bit overweight. There are a fuckton of things you can buy that supposedly help sleep apnea. 99% of them are rubbish. If it is that, expect to be sleeping with a mask on (CPAP).
- Location
- US-Ark
Yeah, I'm expecting to end up with a cpap. My sister and her son both use them, and they're skinny as fuck. I am not skinny. But I probably still need it.