No Greater Fury: A Horse Grenadier company in Westeros

[Balaur]

Luke of Longtown's Garron stamped and whickered as he wheeled his horse back around, holding out the torch for the others to light off of. The men coming out of the forest were yelling warnings at the top of their voices as they came galloping in to form up with the main body.

He tried to make sense of the shouts, a garbled back and forth between Luke and the pickets.

"They got on top of us before we could see what was happening-"

"-fucking walkers, not wights"

"Tim's down, I didn't see what happened to Garrett"

Lancel lit his torch off one that was thrust out by a Stark soldier, riding ahead of him, and peered into the trees. Someone was still screaming in there, and he could see flickers of movement, like shattered, falling glass.

"Double back! Break off!" Luke yelled. Lancel wheeled his horse and began to spur up. The others did the same. They didn't bother with anything resembling a formation, just got the horses moving as fast as they could through the snow. A drift ahead of them burst apart, rotting men with spear and axe clambering out from beneath the snow.

"Charge them down! Give them torch-" Luke began, but he was cut off as something leapt onto him, a shimmering blur of legs and fangs that tackled him straight off his horse. Someone screamed out "Spiders!" behind him. Lancel glanced left, saw the shimmering blurs charging across the open ground, as fast as a galloping warhorse.

His breath caught in his lungs in terror.

One of the things leapt up onto his horse's haunches. He twisted back, trying to knock it away with the burning brand like a maid trying to chase off a normal spider with a broom, but the combination of that and the spider was enough to make the horse rear back and throw him.

He hurled himself clear and rolled as he hit the ground, coming to his feet. His knightly training was lacking, but it wasn't non-existent. Two spiders came charging him down a moment, carapaces at once both dripping wet and smooth and hard as glass. He'd lost his torch; he drew his falchion, cutting one across the middle as it leapt at him. It shattered, shards of ice going flying in all directions. The second one went for his legs. He leapt back from it's first attack, dodged a second attack and tripped. Saw the clouds for a moment before he pulled himself up, just in time to see the spider go under someone's hooves and fly apart in a shower of broken glass.

He scrambled to his feet and tried to get his bearings.

It was carnage. Riderless horses, horseless riders, spiders leaping and clawing and tearing in the middle of masses of wights closing in from all directions except the river-from the north, from the trees, from the snowbank, threatening to link together like closing jaws.

Three or four riders seem to have gotten free of the trap, but as he watched pale men in polished harness-no, Others in armour of ice-came lumbering out of the forest atop gutted horses, lances whose points shimmered white in their hands, ready to run them down. Another group seemed to have stayed together, and were hacking their way through the tumult, moving along the bank towards him…

He saw someone struggling to throw off a spider on his back, turning and turning.

"Stay still! Stay still so I can get the thing!"

He didn't manage to stay still, but Lancel managed to line up a good swing anyway, cracking it almost in half.

The ranger-Pyp, he realized-staggered forwards and fell to his knees.

"Get up! Come on, we need to get out of here-"

"Come on-"

Pyp fell forwards, face first. Lancel dropped down, rolled him over. Pyp's eyes were wide and staring.

"Get up!" That wasn't Lancel, it was Bedwyck, Luke's second-in-command, with five other men with him, all dismounted. "Get up!"

"Pyp! Are you awake!"

His eyes were open, but glazed. "Pyp!"

He slapped him. No response. Tried to shift him, but his neck had already gone rigid. Grenn scooped Pyp up, and slung him over his shoulders, the flaming torch in the other hand.

He's dead, the things killed him, gods be good-

The wights were advancing from three directions, already with a few dozen yards, and Bedwyck's men met them with flaming arrows. They screamed and flailed as they burnt, often taking two or three more with them, but they kept coming and coming, and only three of Bedwycks men had managed to get their bows strung and supplies of flaming arrows off the horses.

"Fall back in good order, don't turn your backs to them or break formation, the spiders will get us!" Bedwyck yelled, gesturing at spiders that lurked in the narrowing gap between the masses of men. They began to back up, out onto the ice, moving into a line with something resembling open order; enough room to use their weapons, not so spread out they couldn't support each other.

Someone pressed a lit torch into Lancel's hand, and he took it, falling in shoulder-to-shoulder with Grenn. The big man had a torch in one hand and a dragonglass dagger in the other, his face gashed open.

His boots sank down into the layer of snow over the ice, thicker and deeper here than in the thin pack ice further down. The wights pressed forwards, and it took everything Lancel had to keep falling back in good order rather than piss himself and run. They lumbered forwards, gasping, eyes glowing blue, closer and closer, silently, spiders scuttling around their flanks, looking for vulnerable prey.

Then the wights were on them, and there was no more time for thought.

The first of the wights to come at Lancel had it's clumsy blow parried and a flaming torch shoved into it's guts. It staggered forwards, screaming as its guts caught fire, it's hands flailing for his torch. They clamped on, tugged back; he chopped at it's arm, ripping straight through the elbow joint, but the forearm kept clinging to his torch even as the owner burnt, setting another wight that tried to claw over it aflame. Grenn and the man to his right, a Bolton man called Hargrey, kept slashing and burning, backing up desperately, and Lancel did the same. Bedwyck was bellowing for them to close a gap, off on his right, but there was no time to look, and no reserves…

The dull fear that had been with him since they'd left the wall had been replaced with razor edged terror, leaving him fighting like a cornered rat.

A burning wight bulled straight into Grenn, screaming in pain as flaming hands tore at his throat. He somehow stayed on his feet, stabbing the dragonglass dagger into it. The wight tumbled down, limp, it's animating force gone. Grenn's throat was running red and black, and Lancel was about about to yell for him to get back behind him when a spear punched into his face, laying him out flat. Lancel moved to cover him, but a blow from another burning hand caught Lancel across the face. He didn't feel anything as he parried the follow-up blow with his falchion, jabbed it under the chin with the torch to make the bastard burn faster, took a step backwards to get room and to the side to cover the gap Grenn had made, only to realize that a couple of wights were over Pyp and Grenn, hacking at them with axes as Grenn flailed and tried to protect himself.

Before he could anything, there were more wights on him, and he was fighting two or three at a time, and he was again fighting for his own life. His arms were numb from the effort, not helped by a blow that didn't penetrate his furs but did deaden his arm. He realized with a start he could see Grenn's body 10 feet away at least, at least two wights between him and the attackers, and that Hargrey and Bedwyck had fallen in on his flanks, all that was left as far as he could tell.

"On my mark, break for thirty yards, then rally on me!" Bedwyck yelled.

"Break!" Bedwyck screamed, and they did. It took just as much effort to turn his back to the undead as it did to face them, but Lancel did it anyway, racing through the snow as fast as he could, kicking up a spray of mist. There were only five of them left, himself counted; three, as he saw a Stark man taken down by a spider and Bedwyck impaled by a thrown spear of ice. Lancel slipped and went down face first into the snow, managed to get up again. He rolled over, and saw a spider leap at him. There was no time to swing, he just managed to raise his falchion, stopping the fangs an inch from his face. He screamed in terror as he tried to push it back, the thing pushing back with unnatural force, nearly driving the fangs through his eyes-

It melted, soaking cold water running down through his furs, as Hargrey stood over him, dragonglass dagger in hand. "Get up and run!"

As he stood up, the ground twisted under him, and panic lanced through him.

Ice, ice, it's the ice breaking-

He had enough presence of mind to leap clear, screaming out a warning to Hargrey. The wiry old man was coming straight after him, limping, the wights in close pursuit, ploughing through the snow without a care-

One wight went through the ice, and then another, thrashing, struggling for grip, only widening the gap. It was all along the line of them, a gaping maw in the already thin cracked open by the weight of first stamping feet and then the mass of wights. They surged to go around, but that just made a whole section of the ice tilt, throwing dozens of them down into the gap. He thought he saw Grenn's mutilated face amongst them.

Then he tore his gaze away from the carnage behind him, and plunged into the forest ahead.

 

[Balaur]

"The Seven's blessings upon you, Lord Renly" Septon Ollius said as he stepped into the Red Keep's Sept.

"And may their blessings be upon you too. And of course the new High Septon."

Hopefully more blessings than the last one had. Dying of an axe to the head in the middle of the Great Sept was an… unprecedented way to go.

Septon Luceon Frey had been elected only a day ago with a large majority: a combination of appealing to the venal with his feasts and bribes, and appealing to the pious with promises of meeting the common people's demands for the faith to avenge the High Septon.

"Of course. Not all of my fellow Septons are as… devoted as they should be, but all agree with us that Selyse Baratheon must face trial, and soon. However, most wish to have this trial held by Stannis Baratheon. The people of the city are in agreement with you as to what should be done."

"Oh, trust me, I know. I can hear the bastards chanting every morning." Renly said.

"You know, I have a thought. Stannis has expressly forbidden you to judge Selyse, yes?"

"Yes."

"I believe there is a way around that. A, well, not a trial but an inquiry, would calm the smallfolk while we wait for Stannis to return. Show that something is being done, and make the confessions known to all doubters."

Bill the assassin was, of course, still alive and well, and they had the confessions signed. Guncer had gone north, to give Stannis an eyewitness account of the attack; it would come down to Renly's word that the assassin had claimed to be a Rhllorite.

"I am reluctant to put Imry Florent to the question, being noble and all. But, of course, he was arrested trying to organize the overthrow of the Hand of the King. That might as well be a confession of guilt. Or stupidity."

"Either way, he is an enemy of the faith. I am sure you are aware that in these trying times, the faith must assert itself. Septon Luceon has many theologically suspect ideas, but his core thesis is correct."

"What is that?"

"That the faith must be strengthened, without direct contradiction with the rights of kings."

"Of course."

An enquiry nicely avoided the problem of confronting Stannis head-on, or leaving the trial to him. Let the evidence be known, let all the people know what sort of woman Selyse was in excruciating detail… and then let Stannis cause not just a miscarriage but an abortion of justice when he returned and inevitably let Selyse off. He'd be the hero of the hour, and Stannis, well…

How unfortunate.

"Spread the word amongst the faithful that I shall be addressing their concerns. In say, three days." That would be enough to get Gared to put together a case, and for Septon Ollius to get the mob well and fired up. If Stannis blamed him, it was the faiths idea. If Stannis blamed the faith, it was the mob's idea.

*

"So I will present the confession, but not the assasin, because he could try to escape or retract?" Gared asked.

The gaoler was outright grinning now. He'd taken to wearing a sword and dagger, was up to his glls in coin and was poking about looking for a knighthood or some sort of fancy title. Considering how well he'd done, Renly was inclined to grant it.

"Exactly."

"Sallereon confessed, by-the-by. He said that he gave some of the assassins a spare room, but he does that for all Rhllorites who cannot pay for their own accommodation. Says he never would have done it if he'd known. Well, they all say that." Gared said, smiling.

"Indeed."

"What about Tane? She killed most of the attackers, she got a false confession out of Bill and believes it, she'll want to give her own piece. And from I've heard, that'll cause problems. Ollius's pet septons have whipped up more than a few people to think she's sent by the Seven-"

"-Just as he's whipped them up to demand justice for the High Septon. Which Tane won't be supporting."

This was going to need to be handled delicately. Very delicately.

*

He invited Tane to take her supper with himself and Margaery that night. As always, Tane had thrown on a doublet-a Westerosi this time, at least-and those ridiculous baggy breeches all the Genians wore. Margaery wore one of the new dresses she'd been scything through as her belly grew.

"I hear every battalion of Silvercloaks is ready for service." Renly said.

Tane nodded in agreement, in between bites of the meal. "3rd Battalion's 4th company is still waiting for their brigandines and jacks to arrive, and some of them need their training sharpening up, but they're overall good to go. Bywater's companies in the Kingswood should be back soon enough."

"Good. Willas Tyrell is already calling his banners."

"May the warrior be with him." Margaery said.

Tane nodded in agreement. "He has prepared defences and experienced men. The Reach foot fought well when I saw them in action. It'll be a hard fight, but the sea wolves won't have the stomach for a stand-up fight. If not for the dragons, we could swing the royal fleet around, try and smash them against the coast or force them into decisive battle. Then again, the highest reports put them at a thousand or so ships. Things might be hairy if we can't ambush them at anchor or pick them off piecemeal."

"A thousand ships-" Renly said, jaw almost dropping.

"Maybe. Seems like such a nice round number that it's probably an estimate. They're still a serious fleet, though, even if they're mostly galleys and longships."

"For the silvercloaks, I have a suggestion." Renly said.

"Oh?" Tane asked.

"Brienne of Tarth. My sworn sword. You've mentioned wanting to recruit women for the Royal Guard? She's your best chance. I can assure you, she is brave, loyal, and not quite stupid as she seems."

Tane looked vaguely annoyed at that.

"I'll talk to her about it." Tane said. "Get her a position as an ensign, see how well she takes to being an officer. Considering her performance on the Ocean Road, she won't need any colour-guards to defend her."

For a moment, he remembered that fight, the almost heedless battle-rush that had come over him, the panic as he'd realized he was completely exposed, Brienne screaming for him to remount, losing that horse too and having to kill a man with his own sword. He absently mindedly itched at the furrow through his beard.

Brienne had saved his life, then, or near enough. It would have made for a great twist in a tale, he had to admit; an ugly maiden saving a handsome knight. Since then, she'd had nothing more to do that sit around the Tower of the Hand mooning after him and watching for attackers; arriving too late to make a difference when he actually was attacked. Better to pack her off somewhere where she might actually be useful; besides, if Tane tried to move against him, having Brienne amongst her officers wouldn't be in her favour. It would make Tane more of a laughing stock, too, good when he needed her reputation damaged.

Speaking of that…

 

[Balaur]

"I've most distressing rumours about the activities of, well, certain Septons in the city. They've been making some interesting claims about you." Margaery said, as they finished the meal.

Tane had eaten faster; she'd worked up an appetite drilling with quarterstaves against her officers, and she'd had to slow herself down consciously. It was a skill you picked up when you might be eating dried meat one night, no cooked food because of light discipline, and dining with peers of the commonwealth the next.

"Maiden and warrior in one sent to throw down bastards born of incest." Tane said, without missing a beat. "They've been preaching it for years. One of them, Septon Arle, has a whole cult that sometimes hassles me when I'm out in the city. You're working with Septon Ollius too, aren't you?"

She had no idea how on earth he'd convinced himself she was the bloody maiden-I've killed more people than I have fingers, fucked two women and brought down a king, and that was only after coming here-but now, apparently, she had to deal with it.

Renly nodded. "Doesn't mean I believe everything he says. It would be helpful if you dismiss the more outlandish claims that Septon Arle has made. That one is nothing but trouble. Anyway, I need the privy…" Renly stood up and took his leave, wincing as he put his weight on his wounded leg.

"It would some small way to honour the old High Septons memory, by doing what we discussed with him." Margaery added, leaning forwards forwards and smiling.

Mother above, she really is wasted on Renly-

"I'll think about it. I don't want to risk making the situation in the city even worse, though." The last thing she needed was the seven-worshippers even more pissed off with her.

"It might calm it, if you tell them you are a normal woman." Margaery said.

"I'm not, though. That's the problem. I just wake up in another world, knowing another language, with my entire company having the same done to them. My ancestors did much the same, although they did it on purpose and didn't know the language."

Margaery nodded along. She'd probably heard the story before.

"By the time King Arthur and his men were done, the Feylaw had fallen, humanity was freed, and he and most of his lieutenants were immortal. Now the same thing happens to me, just as a Fey invasion looks to be getting underway, even worse than anything my ancestors dealt with."

"Sace told me that." Margaery said. "If that's true…"

"That I was sent by the Seven? All religions are fragments of the true theology, you know. The Triad and the All. They might well have sent me. This reeks of a miracle, not magic, whenever I think about it. I'm in the position King Arthur was in sixteen centuries ago, in another world. Worse in some ways; I'm not a king. Better in others; I'm not crippled. I even have a Bydevere and a Morgan with me." She chuckled to herself. Margaery laughed too, after a moment of confusion.

"Then why don't you tell the Septons you believe them?" Margaery asked.

Tane shrugged. "Because I try not to think about that sort of thing. I'm a soldier, not a priest-scholar. My job is to make sure that at the end of the day, as many of my men are alive and as many of the enemy aren't as possible. Not to seize immortality or free humanity from Fey tyranny or whatever Arthur wanted beyond working legs. I'll worry about the next life when I get an 11 bore to the face or a rapier through the lungs."

"Your people believe in hell, don't they?" Margaery said. "Wouldn't it be best to look after your soul before you end up going there?"

"The only way to avoid that is leaving the world a better place than you found it. That, and begging forgiveness of the Father." Tane said. "Granted, I've still got a lot of catch-up to do on both of those."

She remembered the look on the face of Preston Greenfield, as she'd raised her pistol the moment he refused to step aside on the drawbridge. Joffrey begging for his life at the executioner's block, and Cersei describing how Robert had raped her. The feel of her rapier punching through a ribcage. The smell of villages burning in the distance, the smoke stinging her eyes. The Westerlands or the Genian highlands, she couldn't remember.

"Well then, if you want to leave the world a better place, dealing with Arle's cult would be a start."

*

Mother above, Brienne hits hard. And fast Tane thought as she slipped back from a cut to the leg. Brienne turned her own cut to her head aside with her shield, and Tane retreated, keeping her waster out in a near straight-line guard to dissuade pursuit.

They circled around, Tane keeping Brienne close enough that she'd have time to react before a blow came in while still being close enough to exploit any openings. She took a subjection, placing her blade over Brienne's and taking it off-line, tried to wrench Brienne's blade offline with a flick of her arm, and came in for the thrust, only to have Brienne parry her cut with her shield and swing her own blade into her helmet hard enough to make her vision jar.

"Walked right into that. Should have cut at the wrist or the head." Tane set down her waster and pulled her training helmet off, then started unbuttoning her doublet of defence. She'd have at least a few bruises, though Brienne had the good sense to pull most of her hits.

"I'm sure that Renly's already told you?"

"About what?"

"That he's recommended you as a Silvercloak officer."

Brienne actually looked insulted by that. "He does not want me as his sworn shield?"

Tane shrugged. "I don't know. All that I do know is that I want you for the Silvercloaks. Definitely a good fighter, and you might very well make a good officer. How much experience do you have of fighting on foot?"

"Not much. In the field. In the tourneys… I won the foot melee a few months ago."

"And mounted experience?"

"On the Oceanroad, and many tourneys."

"Good. What I reckon that the Silvercloaks need more of is cavalry. Even the goldcloaks have a few dozen lancers around. A few squadrons of demi-lancers and mounted archers would be an improvement over relying on levy cavalry."

"You want me in your cavalry?" Brienne asked, looking down at Tane almost wide eyed.

"I want you to lead my cavalry. Or at least some of them."

"I don't know how to lead…"

"That's the first step to making a good leader. Knowing when you don't have a bloody clue what you're doing."

Advice that I'd do well to keep in mind.

 

[Balaur]

"That's a snowstorm blowing in." Hargrey said through gritted teeth.

"Need to find shelter, then." Lancel muttered.

They'd been moving all day since the attack, not daring to stop until they were sure that they'd managed to lose the Others. They'd managed to outrun the wights in their frantic rush, and the Others hadn't bothered to pursue, as far as he could tell. Hargrey had insisted on sticking to the forests, to stop the dead birds from spotting them.

His legs felt like they would drop off at any moment, and Hargrey seemed to have picked up a limp from Seven knows where. The Bolton man had brushed it off every time Lancel had raised a concern, insisting he was fine.

"Knee never liked the cold. And that was bloody cold." He'd said.

Lancel had just nodded and kept moving. If he stopped, the cold would be worse. If the cold got worse, he'd want to curl up like some small animal in a cold snap. And if he did that, he'd die.

He didn't particularly want to die.

As he shuffled along behind Hargrey, trying not to stare at the flayed man-now spattered with actual blood-on his cloak, he pointed out a craggy hill.

"That looks like it might have shelter…" Lancel said.

Hargrey grunted. "Aye. We'll need it. Light a fire and we'll bring them down on us."

Lancel shivered. "If we do it in a cave, they might not see us…"

"No fire. Too risky." Hargrey said, swearing as he stumbled on a log buried in the snow.

*

In the end, they did light a fire, as deep as they could into the cave so that the fire wouldn't show. The wet wood put out smoke that stung their eyes, but Hargrey had brought dry tinder in his back.

"Hunting in winter, you southron summer child. You always have to be ready to sleep rough." He'd explained.

Lancel took first watch that night, crouching by the fire, far enough out that he wouldn't be silhouetted, an unlit flaming brand ready to be lit the second he saw walkers.

Do Wight eyes glow at night?

He was staring at the mouth of the cave, looking for any sign of movement. He felt his hand beginning to shake, his body coming down from the rush of fighting for his life and running through the snow with wights and spiders at his tail.

Pyp's dead. Grenn's dead. Two dozen or so others.

If I'd been quicker, I could have saved Pyp at least-

He slapped that thought down. There was nothing he could have done. Pyp had that spider's venom in him by the time he'd reached him. Grenn had fought as hard as he could and they'd been overwhelmed by sheer weight of numbers. It was a miracle that himself and Hargrey had gotten away as they had.

They'd done what they could, let the riders hopefully get back to the wall-at least they'd have gotten knowledge of the ice spiders back, that was something-then saved themselves.

For now, at least.

He supposed that was something to, if not be proud of, then certainly not be shamed by.

He certainly preferred being a shadowcat to a kingslayer.

Outside, nearly drowned by the howl of the snowstorm, came a sound like shattering glass. Something moved in the inky blackness, a faint shimmer cast by moonlight.

It was the height of a man.

Spoiler: Music

His blood ran cold, and he drew his falchion, slowly backing away into the cave, towards the fire.

What the hell was that? A ghost? A Wight? An Other?

There was that awful cracking sound again, and a second shimmer came up behind the first.

He backed around the corner, scrambling back into the guttering light of the fire. His foot kicked a stone and it went clattering down into the dark.

He shook at Hargrey.

"Get up! There's something in the cave!" Lancel hissed, trying to keep it down to a whisper. Hargrey jerked awake, swearing under his breath.

He rolled over and grabbed his sword.

The sound of cracking and grinding ice came again. He snatched up a flaming brand in his off-hand and began to back up, trying to put the fire's circle of light between himself and the things.

Then they came around the corner, through the gloom and the smoke and the flickering firelight, and he saw them for what they were: men in armour, mirror-polished so well he could see himself on the first ones breastplate for a moment before the armour turned black. It had a long-headed spear in it's hand, the whole weapon, even the haft, made of what had to be glass. The second wielded a sword.


Others. Wight walkers. Neverborn. Demons of the Seven Hells.

"The one on the left. Kill it first." Hagrey said. The older man was audibly having to stop his voice from shaking.

His own hands were shaking too, and he forced himself to take slow controlled breaths.

The two glanced at each other, one nodded, and then they came on.

The Bolton man charged at them with a yell, longsword in one hand and dragonglass dagger in the other Bravosi style. Lancel followed, making for the one with the spear, trying to circle around to it's left flank.

Lancel couldn't tell, afterwards, if the fight took seconds or hours. The Spear-Other took Hargrey full in the chest, Lancel darting in and bringing his falchion down on the thing's glassy vambrace, driving his torch into it's face a moment later. Their bodies crashed together, going down in a tangle of limbs, his torch going flying. He came down on top of it, grabbed at it's throat, began smashing the pommel of his falchion onto it's armoured head. The Other bucked and twisted, and he virtually slid off it's belly, just as an icy sword flicked through where his head had been a moment before. His vision swam as he hit his head on the way down, only saved from braining himself by rolling with the impact.

The one on the ground was making sounds in that cracking language that could only be swearing. Hargrey lay on the ground, gasping in pain, the spear thrust through his lungs. His hands were gripped around the haft, trying to pull it out. The one with the sword was stepping over the downed men, somehow doing that with inhuman elegance.

Lancel stumbled to his feet, his foot catching on a stone. He went down on his arse again, fumbling for his dagger. The Other began to advance, just as Hargrey lashed out, cat quick, grabbing it by the leg and driving an obsidian dagger into the back of it's leg. The Other screamed in pain and whirled, it's blade scything through Hargrey's wrist then spinning back around to face Lancel. It lunged at him, but Lancel rolled out of the way, and the Others leg gave out, pitching it down onto the ground. It tried to stand, screaming in pain, but he saw that it's leg hadn't just been crippled, it was melting, armour and flesh and even bone, and it's torso too. The Other flopped on the ground, screaming in agony, flopping like a fish drowning in air.

Dragonglass.

The Other that he'd knocked down was getting to it's feet, drawing a dagger of it's own.

It looked him straight in the eyes, it's cuirass changing from pitch black to mirror to slate grey. He saw his own face reflected back at him for a brief moment.

Cold, dead eyes, but they weren't shining blue.

"Come on!" Lancel spat. "Come the fuck on!"

He realized that the fire was guttering and dying, and even in the relative warmth of the cave, the cold was chilling him to his bone.

The Other edged in, circling.

Lancel stood his ground, resisting the urge to back up. The footing was too unsteady to risk moving more than he had to. He tried to remembered what few lesson's he'd had in fighting with daggers.

Get it in the joints, it'll die as easily as a man with obsidian, just keep your nerves…

The Other lunged, inhumanly fast, hand shooting out to catch Lancel's dagger. He jerked back and tripped, tumbling straight back through the fire, yelped in pain as the flames licked at him.

The Other strode after him, the fire guttering and dying as it stepped through. Lancel rolled to his feet and scrambled away as the light died, the Other shrouded in blackness, the only light coming from his dropped torch. It was hard to tell what was the Other and what was it's shadow. It slipped off into the gloom, moving away from the torch, into the blackness.

Lancel scrambled back, panting, feeling behind himself for the cave wall.

Where is it? Where the hell is it?

It must have read his thoughts, because it laughed, the sound echoing through the cave. Shockingly close; too fucking close-

Lancel hurled himself at the noise with a scream. He slammed into something hard and wet, felt his dagger bite flesh, heard a scream, and then a hand with a grip like iron caught his throat. He felt his feet leave the ground as he kicked at nothing, gasping and swearing, trying to slip free of it's grip to no avail…

Until it just collapsed, dropping him panting to the ground, gasping for air.

There was nothing, no light, no sound but his own breathing, his hammering heart and wet sputtering coughs. Hargrey's still alive?

Then he heard the crunching of feet, and the fluttering of wings.

"Get up, Brother." A voice called, coarse and thin.

Lancel scrambled over to his torch and snatched it up, sending ravens ravens flapping and quorking in all directions.

He turned, looking for the voice, grip tighetening on his dagger. Please let it be another survivor, please…

Then he saw him, a man with his face muffled and dressed all in black, a great elk behind him in the long flickering shadows.

 

[Balaur]

Tane stood against the back of the Sept, checking over her plans for dealing with unrest with Jacelyn Bywater. She hadn't liked getting dragged out here, and had told Margaery as much.

"If you want the rumours to stop, you'll have to show them what you are." Margaery had said.

They'd agreed to meet at the Lesser Sept, one of the half dozen that dotted King's Landing besides the Great Sept. Ollius and Arle had both agreed to arrive, alongside Tane and some of her troops.

Ollius arrived first with a couple of other septons, disciples in the hardline faction he was building at court, in tow.

Tane strode across to meet them, tucking her gloves through her belt and doffing her ridiculous beaver-skin hat. Margaery could tell she'd worn her mail-stuffed doublet from the bulk on the arms, though she'd replaced the covering material because of the bloodstains and the gashes torn through and-

Margaery stopped herself, shivering. That won't happen again. There were a dozen grenadiers and goldcloaks each here, and she now carried a dagger.

"Are you alright?" Elinor asked. She must have seen her tense.

Margaery nodded. "I'm fine." Her fingers twitched. The last few times Maester Nymos had taken off the splint to test her fingers, they'd moved properly, although they were stiff and her little finger sometimes clicked and caught.

She walked over to Ollius and curtsied.

"I am grateful to see you here." she said.

"Well, of course. I consider myself a loyal friend to the faithful. Now, Arle turning up, that is the real question."

Ollius and Tane said their courtiesies as well, and he fell back to his group, talking amongst themselves.

Tane glanced at her. "Reckon it's the first time most of them have seen me up close."

Margaery laughed. "You did defeat a kingsguard in front of half the city."

Come to think of it, between that and the Great Sept, Tane had a habit of killing people in front of her.

Better that than Cersei going free or me being butchered.

Finally, Septon Arle arrived.

There seem to be rather a lot of bearded Septons about these days Margaery thought. He had six followers in tow, three male, three female-very pious-all in simple roughspun robes.

The man was tall and thin, with a long greying beard and plain, roughspun robes. Uncannily like Septon Ollius. Ollius, though had devoutness combined with cunning. Arle, from what she'd seen of him, combined something vaguely resembling devoutness(though not to any particularly coherent interpretation of scripture) with utter raving lunacy.

"So, can we begin?" Tane asked, shaking Arle's hand as well. She had an inch or two on both of them, and her hair was still clipped short and messy from her surgeon getting at her wounds.

"Of course." Ollius said, nodding to Arle. "Would you enlighten us on your doctrines regarding Lady Bayder?"

"There are three esential points. Firstly, that the Others were sent by the Stranger, to punish us all for our sins."

Secondly, that in her mercy the maiden sent Lady Bayder to punish only the sinners, and spare the rest, and thus avert the apocalypse."

"Citation for their the Seven who are One acting against themselves? Book and verse. They are seven bodies with one soul, seven aspects of one god. Not some bickering pagan pantheon." Ollius said.

"This was revealed to me in a dream."

It wasn't hard to tell that Ollius had been a Maester before finding the faith. Arle had been… she wasn't sure, but he wasn't well respected by the Septons.

"You are saying she is a saviour sent by the Seven. I, however, believe she is like the Others. Both sent to test our faith and purge us of evildoers, both aspects of the Stranger." Ollius continued.

It wouldn't do for a girl of her age, even the wife of the hand of the king, to be seen being rude to Septons, so she let them continue. She was just here as a facilitator anyway. This was Tane and Arle's business.

"Now, my third point. The intervention of the maiden and Lady Bayder is all that will prevent our death at the hands of the stranger. Without her, we will all die, as the First Men would have without the Father's intervention to preserve Westeros for His future children."

Finally, Tane stepped up. "Firstly, I'm not a lady. I'm the bastard daughter of a nobleman and don't have any titles. I do have the position of Captain-General of the Royal Guard. Ma'am or General would be preferred. Or Sir. Secondly, why do you think I was sent by the bloody maiden?"

"She sent you in her mercy to protect the seven kingdoms, lacking both the base lusts of man and the weakness of women."

Tane looked like she was trying not to burst out laughing.

"I'd dispute either of those. I know a fair few women who could kill either of you in a heartbeat."

"Surely you must be testing our faith-" one of the acolytes said.

"She is an aspect of the Stranger." Ollius said. "Neither man nor woman."

"I'm a bloody woman." Tane said.

"But you-" another of Arle's acolytes began.

"Yeah, I know." Tane said. "You have a problem with that?" She stepped closer to Arle, and the Septon backed up. The hilts of her rapier and dagger glinted in the rays of light coming down through the Warrior's skylight.

This… wasn't turning into the productive dialogue Margaery had been hoping for.

Arle raised his hand, turning to his followers. "Patience. She is testing our faith."

"I'm not testing your faith. I'm saying you know nothing about me. Yes, I was probably sent by a miracle. Yes, the divine was involved and it was probably for a reason. But I'm not some kind of bloody virgin man-woman sent to save you all. I'm a woman. I fuck other women. I fight and kill people. I lead other fighters. I've been doing that since I was a girl. I'm bloody good at it, if I say so myself. I don't do it for your Seven. I do it for honour and country and survival and because I'm good at it. And because some people need protecting, and some killing. If I save all of you, it'll be with gunpowder and poleaxes and common bloody sense, not my fucking purity."

Oh seven above, here we go-

Olenna would draw the line at that, and she was someone that reckoned if a lady's armour was her courtesy, then one should go into battle naked and screaming like a Dothraki.

Ollius looked like he was warding himself against demons. "Are you possessed-"

"No. Know, you know what would actually help save us all from the Others and the dragons? Forgetting about bloody Selyse. There were a couple of Rhllorite assasins, sure. They were recruited in Tyrosh. They've close to Myr, and have plenty of trade contacts. Varys is from Myr, or so I hear. Petyr Baelish is in Myr with the Lannisters. Both have plenty of reason to want chaos in the realm or revenge on Stannis or whatever they want."

"But the confession! Selyse aided the killer!"

"The assassin was recruited in Tyrosh by a knight he didn't know the name of. Davos's agents say he barely knew Selyse. I've spoken to him myself. What he told me and what he said in the confession don't line up. I suspect he was lying for a good bit of that confession."

"Killers lie. Apostates lie. He was trying to protect his mistress." Ollius said.

"Tortured men lie, if it makes the pain stop." Tane said. "We know he's lying, the only question is to me or Renly."

*

"What in the Seven's name were you thinking!" Margaery snapped, the moment she'd dragged Tane into a cranny of the Red Keep she knew to be free of servants. "Insulting the faithful like that, when we need calm? It's like trying to put out a fire by pouring oil on it!"

After that exchange, she'd managed to drag things back onto theology, but the conversation had been poisoned nonetheless until she'd called it a day. She doubted much productive would be gotten out of it.

"As opposed to the rioters, who are going around starting actual fires." Tane said.

"And this will make it even worse!" Margaery hissed, her fingernails digging into her good hand. Tane had handled it like a man-at-arms with too many drinks in him would, not like a member of the small council with command of the strongest force in the city should.

"I had to try and get the truth out there, before this gets even worse." Tane said. "I'm not a bloody goddess, and Selyse, as much of an idiot as she is, isn't some kind of murderous mastermind. If they managed to convince the mob that she isn't, then that might force Renly to start following the actual trail."

"You'll convince the mob of nothing if you treat Septons like that." Margaery answered. "Even if Arle is a hedge Septon, he is fully anointed. You just can't insult him-"

"He's the one spreading nonsense about me." Tane said.

"And saying that Selyse didn't do it isn't? She thinks I tried to spy on her, she's spiteful at the best of times, it was a Rhllorite knight did the recruiting, she told the killer she wished someone would rid her of me, my child could threaten Shireen's succession. She has every means to do it!"

"Varys and Petyr would know all that. Confuses the trail. Why would Selyse of all people go to the trouble of sending an agent to the Free Cities? Davos has no record of any of Selyse's knights leaving for those parts around the right time to recruit the assassins. Why would she tell an assassin who she supposedly knew had orders to kill you to kill you in public? If she was careful enough to elude Davos about her recruiting, she wouldn't be dumb enough to do that in public, especially to a servant who Davos's men barely ever saw at the Nightfires. If that even happened and it wasn't Bill making shit up to make the pain stop, it was probably her mouthing off. And Florent? What would Garlan or Mace do, if someone arrested you on false charges? Sit there and take it? Or would they try and fight back?"

"Do you have any proof of this, besides what the killer told you?" Margaery said.

"No. The whole thing just stinks to high heaven. I know the attacker lied. I know men under torture will tell their torturers whatever they want to hear to make it stop. Sometimes it's the truth, sometimes it's not, normally it's a mix."

"How do you know that?" Margaery asked.

Tane gave her a rather pointed look. "Field experience."

"Oh."

Finally, Tane sighed. "Look, I don't have any proof of this. I want the bastards who did this dead as much as you do. I reckon Imry is an idiot and Selyse a fanatic as much as you do. It's why I stopped Imry's coup rather than joining in. It's why whichever scheming bastard across the narrow sea picked them to set up. But I don't think she ordered it. If she had, we'd know for sure."

Margaery was almost shaking. Selyse ordering it made perfect sense, but, but. What Tane said, Selyse being the perfect scapegoat, her going out of her way to hide her involvement then talking to the infiltrator anyway, it was starting to make sense too. This was a time when the dead walked, when people came from other worlds, when queens cuckolded kings with their twins. One of the pretenders across the narrow sea framing Selyse would hardly be the strangest thing to have happened.

Tane was… she didn't know what Tane was. But she knew that Tane knew what she was doing, at least on the battlefield if not at court. And interrogating prisoners was soldiers work, from the stories Sace had told of bandit hunts in the Highlands and border marches. Tane had saved her life. She'd fought for Renly. She'd put down the Florent coup. She wouldn't turn on Renly without a good reason.

There was one way to resolve this. "Renly is going to put Selyse on, well, not a trial, but a public inquiry. A week from now. He wants it kept quiet until closer to the date, but he'll want you as witness. You should make your case then. Present it as well as you can. Try and convince me. Try and convince the crowd."

She didn't know if she wanted Tane to be right or not. All that she knew was that she wanted justice served, by any means necessary.

 

[Balaur]

Obligatory content warning for Euron being Euron.

*

The drums pounded as the galley rushed forward, two hundred men, reavers and thralls alike, straining at the oars towards the Redwyne fleet. His body barely noticed the rock and roll of the ship beneath him, the crossbow bolts flicking past, the salt spray, the weight of the Norvosi lamellar on his back. He'd been doing this since he was a boy, reaving in Westeros when Balon deigned to fight and in Essos in times of peace. He was a Farwynd. Sea salt and fire smoke was in his blood.

"Triston. Want us to them let them have it?" Lars asked besides him. The young but already scarred captain of archers was cradling his crossbow like a child, his men standing ready around him.

"Save it till just before we hit. Then clear the deck with axe-" an arrow thudded into his lamellar and went spinning away-"and sword. We'll be drinking arbor red tonight." He smiled as he said it, in spite of the sting already setting in from the hit.

It had all gone beautifully so far. They'd burned much of the redwyne fleet at anchor or picked them off when they tried to respond to the raids in scattered groups. Now they'd blockaded Oldtown and let the Redwynes come.

And come they had. A long low galley war galley lay ahead, it's oars thrashing as it tried to back water away from a Drumm longship in the tangled melee that formed the center of the battle. His own squadron and half a dozen others had crept in from the lee of the third shield, into their flanks and rear looking to surround them after them they'd taken the bait of chasing the smaller longboats into the channel between two islands. Euron wanted no escapees and plenty of prisoners.

Only a hundred yards and closing away, he could already see the men struggling across the decks with sword and spear and axe, weapons rising and falling. They must have seen what was coming, because some of them were forming up on the side of the deck facing him, trying to get a shieldwall together.

"Hold! Hold!" Their prey rushed in closer, men shying back from the gunwhale as they saw the pointed prow coming at them. It was an above-water ram, flat and broad. A sunken ship was worth nothing. A boarded ship… now that was how you became wealthy paying the iron price. He liked to think he was wealthy. A Norvosi's lamellar armour, a Dornishman's spear, a Myrishman's sword, a Lannister war galley. His nieces and nephews had all they wanted for, back home. All of them seized by his own two hands.

The helmsmen were bellowing behind him, and the oarsmen stopped and began to back water just before impact.

"Loose!" Triston bellowed. His archers stood from behind the gunwhales and the shieldwall, unleashing a shower of bolts and arrows. Some Redwynes fell; more cowered behind their shields.

The ram crunched home. He rolled with the impact, barely feeling it; one of the Redwyne's went tumbling down into the water, and more were thrown off their feet.

Then his men were upon them. He vaulted the rail, pounding forwards across the ram, shifting his spear to a two-handed grip. He didn't need to glance back to know his men were following him.

The first Redwyne Triston killed without even breaking stride, stabbing the crossbowman through the throat as he fumbled with his weapon. The second parried his first thrust with his shield; so Triston feinted a thrust at his head then when his shield jerked up snapped out a slide-thrust through his belly, doubling the man over. He wrenched the spear back, jerking the man forwards so that he went tumbling into the water. The Redwyne galley's fighting deck had no rails.

He drew his sword in his main hand, hacking at spears and shields as he came jumped up from the ram onto the enemy deck, grunting in pain at the kick of a spear sliding off his pauldron.

He got one man across the hand and then across the face with his sword, sending blood and teeth and fingers flying, and the rest began to frantically back back up, only to be caught in the crush of men behind them, fighting off the longship's crew, the hurly-burly of the fight pushing them back towards him.

"Yield!" he roared. The men he was facing, marines, where terrified, even beyond the terror of a boarding action. He parried off a spear thrust and stabbed out a kneecap. "Yield!" His men fell in alongside him, spears jabbing and darting, piercing flesh and punching into wood and iron. "Yield!"

He began to press forwards and swing his men around, dropping spears and drawing sword and axe. butchering the pocket trapped between his own men and the Drummond's and beginning to clear the ship bow to stern. Those who weren't pinned down now were running back, heading for the stern, some fighting rearguard. Others threw their weapons down. "Take prisoners if you can!" he bellowed. The Deep Ones alone knew why Euron bloody Greyjoy wanted mercy shown, but he was not a man who was displeased lightly.

*

That night, Euron Greyjoy supped with his most trusted captains ashore on the shield islands, in a sept above a beach with the great rainbow windows burnt and smashed. They'd hauled out trestles and chairs, and Euron had every captured captain, many with bandaged wounds, forced to act as waiters. Seven captured septas and septons had been tied to the statues, the Stranger with a bag over his head.

Victarion supped on one side of Euron, sullen and silent except when boasting of the men he'd killed. He'd personally boarded Paxter Redwyne's flagship, although one of his archers had stolen the honour of killing the man himself.

"A victory to do my brother's memory proud!" Euron said at the head of the table, raised his wineglass. Arbor red, thick and dark as blood splashed across a galley deck. A thin dribble of it ran down from the corner of mouth, past blue lips. The more cunning cackled like hyenas at his joke, the Greenlander girl in his lap loudest of all, and the less cunning cheered for Euron to avenge Balon.

Euron had it put about that Balon was murdered on Stannis's orders, and that Euron had been rushing to the Iron Islands to warn him. A simple way for Euron to get the measure of a man by how they reacted. Anyone who openly disbelieved was an enemy. Anyone who truly believed was a fool.

"Fifty ships captured, a dozen sunk and the rest scattered to the winds." Euron continued. The Redwyne's had no chance. They'd matched the Iron Fleet, the real fighting ships, and outmassed the smaller longboats the rest of the lords used, while having massive dromons the Iron Fleet had no counterpart to. Euron had used that to his advantage. He'd used the longships as bait. More manoueverable near the coast, they'd lured the Redwyne fleet into pursuit, only for them to end up facing dromons and cogs packed with archers, while swift galleys had emerged from the lee of the shield islands and taken them in the rear. Many Redwyne galleys had beached themselves trying to slip out through shallow water, only to be swarmed by more manoeuverable longships, while others had tried to stand and fight. Only the fact that Euron was willing to take surrenders had stopped most of them from being butchered. As it stood, the water was choked with bodies and splintered oars.

Euron was a kinslayer and a madman, but Triston couldn't say he wasn't a good commander. Certainly better than Balon. He'd only survived Fair Isle by the skin of his teeth, but this… it made what Stannis had done to the original Iron Fleet look like child's play.

"I wish Aeron could have seen it. Alas, he is… indisposed." Euron chuckled darkly. "Now, before we feast, a toast for Paxter Redwyne! I will never have it said I treat my enemies dishourably, and he was, after all, vital to my-well, our-victory!"

More cheering, and jeers at Redwyne. Triston joined in, if only out of respect for Euron's victory. He wasn't normally a man given to exuberance, but they had just taken a good chunk of the Redwyne fleet, scattered the rest, and had Oldtown ripe for the taking. Bloody oldtown, the prize many a reaver had tried for over the centuries and that many had failed to grasp.

Then the chant began. "EURON! EURON! EURON KING! EURON! EURON! EURON KING!"

Triston ate his fill and drank deep, and was well into his third course when he felt a hand on his shoulder with a grip like iron. "Come. We need to inspect the prizes." Euron said. Already in these past few months, he knew enough that while sailing under Euron had handsome rewards, getting his personal attention never ended well. He stood up, following Euron out. The Greenlander girl Euron had been fawning over moments earlier went to follow, but Euron brushed her off without even looking at her.

"You may noticed that I am a merciful man." Euron said, glancing at a sobbing Septon tied to a statute of the Warrior. "That has it's purpose."

"What purpose?" He could already see the prisoners taken, thousands of them, being carried by small boats from the prizes into seven great merchant cogs.

"That would be spoiling things, I think." Euron said. He smiled, and his cold blue eye shone in the torchlight. Triston shuddered, remembering a night camped as far north as men would go, trading with Thenn's. There had been things in the woods that night.

"Oldtown will fall, though, and when it does… there will be raping and looting and sacking. I want someone and something found, amidst all that. Come." Euron said.

Euron strode in silence along the beach, and Triston followed.

The longships were hauled out on the beach and the galleys and cogs out at sea, ship's boats running back and forth bearing supplies and men in the light of torches and laterns. There were corpses washed up on the beach too, some with bite marks from sharks, others with vast disc shaped wounds like he'd seen on sperm whales when he'd gone whaling in his youth.

Up ahead, he could see a stake, and a bearded man, Yi Tish or thereabouts, chained to it. One hand was covered in a black glove. A driftwood fire burned in front of him, fed by a pair of mutes.

"Another man has come to witness the Lord of Light. Bring him the enlightenment you brought me." Euron said.

The man spat. "The Lord of Light brings you only fire and death, servant of the Great Oth-"

Euron slapped the man hard enough that the crack was like the buzz of a crossbow being loosed, then seized his hand and tore the glove off. The man screamed in pain, his hand swollen and pinkish-red from being scalded.

"Do you want to reach into your fires again?" Euron asked.

"No." the man said.

"Then remind me what you saw."

"A man of the Watch… a slayer, a warrior of light, though he does not look like one… with a old broken horn. He came to study at the citadel. Samwell Tarly is his name."

"Not lying, I see. Good. Very good. If you were a dog, I'd give you meat. If you were a god… well, you actually might be worth praying to. Alas, you are neither."

Euron turned to Triston, smiling. Triston had known many dangerous men over the years. Cold blooded soldiers and blood crazed killers alike, he'd never met anyone that seemed quite as dangerous as Euron.

"I want that horn. The watchman, I don't care about."

What? Even by Euron's standards, sending men after a broken horn was madness, and not the inspired sort that had resulted in them wrecking the Redwyne fleet and ravaging the west coast.

"This is not just any horn." Euron said. "Dug out north of the wall. It has magic in it, old magic. It will awaken the giants of the earth. Don't you think giants would be a helpful ally?"

Triston would have rathered dragons, or krakens. Giants were useless at sea, and the sea was where any Ironborn with a brain would fight.

"What's in it for me?" Triston asked.

Euron shrugged. "A King's favour. Your pick of any other treasure. Anything, really."

Following a madman's orders and the words of a tortured man wasn't Triston's idea of sanity. But he'd be going straight to the Citadel for the more esoteric sort of loot anyway, and Euron was not a man turned down lightly.

"Aye, I'll do it."

He hoped that there was method to Euron's madness.

 

[Balaur]

She was at the point she was using bloody paperwork to clear her head. Sixscore gold dragons for gunpowder to that company, two dozen new jacks of plate to this company, contracts for horseflesh for the demi-lancer squadron… she'd insisted on having proper accounctability for the silvercloaks, and now she was paying the price.

It still didn't make her head hurt as much as the fucking mess that was the dead High Septon. Two different batshit priests, Renly's bloody incompetent shipwreck of an investigation, whatever game Margaery was playing, and then Littlefinger or Varys or Euron or whoever the fuck had ordered it probably getting ready to follow up on the opening. Taena had contacts in Myr, but they would take too fucking long to pay off, and she had no idea how much pull someone who'd never set foot on that side of the narrow sea in years actually had. At least her and Davos should be able to pool their resources…

"Writing again?" a familiar voice asked behind her.

Think of a demon and they'll come.

"Nothing better to do." Tane said, standing up and stretching. Taena's eyes flicked down her arms, past wiry muscle and a faded rapier scar taken in another world exposed by rolled up shirtsleeves then looked her dead in the eyes.

"I think I've got something better to do." Taena said.

"Oh?" Tane said, stepping closer. Taena had put purple on her lips, and her bodice was cut so low and tight Tane was surprised she was still decent. Not that she'd be complaining if Taena wasn't.

Tane reached out to grab her, but Taena stepped back, smirking. "I just had word from Myr. Genna Lannister has been seen trying to hire sellswords."

Shit-

Tane forced herself to focus. Taena wasn't going anywhere.

"Which company? How many soldiers?"

"The company of the rose. A small and weak company, of only a few hundred swords. And she had no success."

Tane breathed a sigh of relief. If they tried to land with that, they'd be slaughtered. And apparently, all the Lannister gold and Littlefinger's financial trickery were for naught.

"There is a catch though. The Myrish navy… they have mounted some sort of blasting powder to scorpion bolts. Some of the sailors are boasting they can turn a ship to splinters or even kill a dragon."

Petyr dogfucking Baelish…

"Has your source seen them in action?"

It could just be sailors boasting about firecrackers, for all she knew.

"They're rather… vague." Taena said. "Messenger gulls are rarer than those Westerosi ravens, and carry a smaller load."

Tane flopped back on the bed. "I suppose it's better than Littlefinger pulling out a rocket battery out of his Mother knows where."

"Just so." Taena said, standing over her, just out of reach.

"How did that meeting in the sept with Margaery go?" Taena added.

"Oh, swimmingly. I told Ollius and Arle that they were idiots who should fuck themselves, or something to that effect."

"And Margaery?"

"She was very upset by my lack of tact, let's put it that way. Though she's willing enough to listen on the whole assassins matter."

For a moment, Tane considered telling her of the situation with the inquiry.

If that leaks and Margaery or Renly find out… She only mostly trusted Taena. Besides, Margaery had trusted her with confidential information. The least she could do was keep it bloody confidential.

Taena smiled. "Now that's dealt with…"

*

"He's holding the inquiry tomorrow?"

"Ah, yes, m'lady…." The maid said, stammering. The girl, one of Renly's household, had come looking for her while she was busy reviewing their supply of remounts with Captain-Lieutenant Gryff.

Don't shoot the messenger. Save that bullet for Littlefinger.

"Just a surprise." Tane said. "Apologies."

"He, uh, wants you to testify. About what you saw during the attack…"

"Send Renly my regards."

The girl nodded and scampered off.

Did Margaery lie about the date to throw me off? Renly change it at the last minute? She'd assumed she still had five days.

Doesn't matter, can deal with that later.

"Hey, Gryff?"

"Yeah, Cap?" Her Captain-Lieutenant turned back from where he was checking over a bay courser. A good warhorse for a lancer.

"Renly's holding an inquiry tomorrow. In front of the Red Keep's Iron Gate, midday. I'm going to have to act as witness, and things might get heated. Make sure the company is ready for riot duty."

"Singlesticks?"

"Usual rules. They try and beat the shit out of us, we beat the shit out of them. They try and kill us, we kill them. I'm not sure if Renly's going to let us or the Silvercloaks in on it, or if he'll rely on the goldcloaks."

"Fucking hate dealing with civilians."

"Yeah, well, so I do. That's why you've got the job." Tane said, smiling slightly. Christ-Horus, this shit is making me homesick for Trarabac riot duty.

She had to find Davos and get organized. Now.

*

"So what now?" Tane asked, the second she and Davos were in the Godswood and she'd explained the situation.

Davos rubbed the bag of bones around his neck. "Make what case we can to the people of King's Landing, to turn them against Renly. Hope we can keep him from going anything rash until Stannis returns."

Tane snorted. "Good luck with that."

Davos shrugged. "I can try."

"Best you can do is try and get Stannis to return, quick as possible."

Stannis would put a stop to the current sort of madness, though she suspected he'd start planning brothel bans or the ritual sacrifice of small children or whatever the hell it was made the bastard actually smile. A bit of an out of the frying pan, into the fire situation.

"Aye. He's coming." Davos said. "Only question is how soon."

Oh?

She'd thought Stannis had elected to stay in the north, planning the defence against the Others.

"Oh, and something you should know. The Myrish have naval artillery. Some sort of exploding scorpion bolt."

"Petyr Baelish?"

"The very same. Taena's contacts told her."

Davos rubbed his chin. "That gives the Myrish more of a chance, if they try to back the Lannisters…"

"Or if they try and stop the Targaryens sailing west. Though from what I hear, they're trying to get them here faster, before Daenerys sets off a slave revolt."

"There is that too." Davos said. He sighed. "Are you sure you can trust her? I know you and her are, well, but I mislike her. I've known her type often enough. They'll say anything to gain the trust of the great and powerful."

"I know." Tane said. Truth be told, she didn't fully trust anyone here outside of the Horse Grenadiers. But a snake you knew to avoid stepping on was far less dangerous than one that was hidden.

Finally, Davos sighed. "There's no time for anything else. Just tell them what you heard, as honestly as possible. Renly won't be fool enough to do anything permanent to Selyse."

"And if Renly is fool enough?"

Davos rubbed his fingers.

"Then Stannis will see justice done."

*

Just a short update that's mostly exposition(and narrowly avoided sexposition)Things are going to heat up soon, though.

 

[Balaur]

"Everything is in place, I assure you." Gared said, trotting alongside Renly as they made for the Red Keeps gates. The gaoler was having to visibly slow himself to avoid pulling too far ahead.

At least I've stopped myself obviously limping. Training himself to do that when in public had taken more effort than he was used to putting into, well, anything.

Renly could already hear the chanting coming from outside. Baratheon guardsmen were keeping the crowd back from the tournament stands that had erected facing outwards

"Excellent. How many towers did you want on your castle, again?"

"One or two would be good enough. More of a tower house, really." Gared said.

He'd have to watch Gared. Ambition was good. Too much ambition… that could be dangerous. And Gared knew things no one else but Renly did.

Selyse was done. Either Stannis would be forced to execute her, or the backlash from letting her walk would cripple him.

Bill? Full confession with all the gory details. Sallereon? Gared had persuaded him to confess to sheltering the assassin even knowing what they would do. Selyse? She'd agreed to make her case, which was sure to start a riot, and Gared had discovered some interesting letters of hers that she'd failed to dispose of in time. Ironborn were involved. With recent news of the attack on the Reach, that was sure to have an impact. Tane was going to be a problem, but at least she'd been taken by surprise by the inquiry. Margaery hadn't leaked the inquiry to her hens, and even if she had, they would have assumed it was a week early. He didn't entirely trust her to keep her mouth shut.

The halberdiers guarding the gates stepped aside as he approached. Goldcloaks, hopefully loyal to him. Tane had taken all the best men in the Goldcloaks for her own troops, giving them better pay, and the regular Goldcloaks resented them for it, while he'd their pay increased and made it known who was responsible. He'd ordered the Silvercloaks to stay in their quarters built near the tourney grounds. He'd said they'd just inflame the situation.

There were Stormlands archers up on the walls as well, and spearmen, more a show of force than anything else. More practically, they also ringed the outside of the tourney stands, stopping anyone from climbing up. He glanced at the witnesses as he walked past. Lord Sunglass had gone north to personally inform Stannis of what had happened, so he was unavailable, but Margaery, Tane, Sace, and a half dozen Septas and Septons were standing about.

"Are you ready?" he asked. Margaery nodded and pulled herself away from where she was talking to Tane, cutting off mid sentence as she saw him approach.

She interlinked her arm with his as they walked out the Red Keep's gates.

It should be Loras at my side.

He clambered up onto the platform, wincing as the climb put pressure on his leg. The moment he stepped up onto the stage, his leg felt like it was on fire. He ignored it. He could not show weakness before the people of King's Landing.

As he walked to the edge of the stands, a guardsman stepping aside as he stood before the crowd. A wave of cheers went up when they saw them.

"Margaery! Margaery! Margaery!" the crowd called, and "The rose of Baratheon!"

It rankled him to hear most of them cheering for her, not for him. Still though. Him or her, it didn't matter. He had the people's support.

"Justice for the High Septon! Let no infidel go free!"

That one was coming from a knot of men in austere clothes, Septon Ollius at their head.

He let it go on for just long enough that the people had their say, then raised his hands and called for silence.

"As you all know, I, Renly Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End, Hand of the King, heir to the Iron Throne, was attacked three weeks past by assassins. My lady wife, Margaery, was also attacked and sorely wounded, as was Captain Tane Bayder. Most heinously of all, the High Septon, a Septa and a Septon were murdered in the holiest place in the Seven Kingdoms. Not since the days of Maegor the Cruel have we seen such a crime against the Faith!"

More yelling.

"Off with her head!"

"Kill the bitch queen already!"

"Fookin' Rhllorites!"

Margaery called for calm this time.

"It may very well be the case that Selyse did this. It might be the Ironborn, or the abominations of incest that ordered this atrocity. Whoever they are-"-Margaery paused to raise her splinted arm-"By the old gods and the new, my Lord and Husband has sworn to make them pay."

"To establish the facts of the case, all those concerned will describe what they saw and did on that terrible day."

First came the Septons. Half a dozen of them, each described the same events. A group of shifty looking Essosi around the Great Sept near noon. A Septa confronting them on the balcony as they approached the High Septon's chambers. Her throat was cut. One of them had opened the door and thrown an axe at the High Septon, only for Tane to charge them. She'd killed two before being forced back into the chambers. They hadn't seen much, besides Septon Orel running in to try and help, then Sace arriving with pistols and her sword belt-she'd had no time to buckle it on- and blowing the last assassin's brains out. Some of them testified that they'd seen the flame tattoo on one's ankle, and a one-legged Septon who'd been a sailor long ago said the throwing axes in the attack were ironborn make, just like the one that had taken his leg.

Margaery gave the same version, adding how she'd pleaded for mercy, and how the killer had refused.

The mob was bellowing, jeering, screaming for blood.

"Off with her head! Off with her head!"

The way they said it, Renly was convinced they wouldn't need a sword to take her head off.

Then it was his own turn. He told how he'd punched the assassin, fuelled with rage when he'd gloated about murdering Margaery.

That brought a cheer.

He told how the man had sworn to Rhllor when captured. And he told them how he'd tried to save Selyse, but had no choice but to arrest her when the confession was read out.

Tane came next.

She began explaining how she'd fought off the attackers, killing one man with a hatchet she'd taken off another.

"-I was wounded twice, and only saved from worse by my mail."

She took off her hat, showing the short, ragged haircut she'd gotten so her surgeon could get at the wounds. Her hair was shorter than most mens by now.

"One of them had a rhllorite tattoo, another looked Ironborn. Two more looked like Essosi sellswords. I don't think they were all rhllorites. Hired by Rhllorites, maybe-"

A flick of his wrist and Gared came to the fore, confession in hand.

Gared cut her off. "Indeed, the assassin explained himself when forced to speak by the rack and the iron."

He unscrolled the parchment.

"These are the words of the man who called himself Bill, would-be murderer of the hand of the King! He was most reluctant to speak, to protect his Queen and master, but when he did, it was illuminating. He cannot appear before you know to give his confession, since I fear such a rogue's chances of escape are too high."

"Item: I was recruited into the faith by the Red Priest Quellos of Myr. I was then but a humble sellsword…"

"Item: I was alongside four others, all of us faithful, hired by a man who called himself the red knight. He said he had been sent by certain highly placed persons to kill all those who opposed the one true king and the one true faith."

"Item: When in King's Landing, I took a position in Renly's guard so as to be close to him. I attended the nightfires while I was there, and greatly admired Selyse. I told her at the nightfires I had great plans to do great service for the faith, and she smiled and told me she was glad the faith had such experienced warriors in it's service. Later, she told me that she wished someone would rid her of the meddlesome Margaery."

"Item: We were planning to kill only Renly and the High Septon, but when we found out about the meeting, we postponed it for a day to kill Margaery and Tane too."

"There is more. The blacksmith Sallereon, when put to the question, confessed that he sheltered the killers full well knowing of their mission, since he supported any Rhllorite who would fight the faithful."

"Throw them out! All of them! Force them out of the city!" someone yelled. "No Rhllorites in the sight of the Great Sept!"

Gared let them continue for a moment, then Renly called for calm.

"Furthermore, while searching Selyse's affects, I found letters from Selyse Baratheon addressed to Euron Greyjoy, the very man who now ravages the coasts of the Reach! She was begging him to seize the chaos that she knew would soon be sown!" Gared said.

The mob was bellowing, roaring, screaming.

"Bring out the bitch queen! Bring her out!" the crowd roared.

"Now!" Renly called. "Would anyone speak in Selyse's defence!"

 

[Balaur]

"I will!" Tane yelled. She stepped forwards, up into a gap between a pair of spearmen guarding the edges of the platform.

Here we go. Telling the Hand of the King and an angry mob that they were full of it and barking up completely the wrong tree had to be one of the more dangerous things she'd ever done. And that included attacking fortified positions head-on and ill-considered duels. There had to be thousands of people out there, all of them packed into a blob, trying to get close enough to the stands to hear.

"After the fight, I wanted to know why those men had tried to kill me. So I interrogated those who knew Bill."

"What I found wasn't entirely consistent with what Bill said in his confession. Firstly, he claimed in the confession that Selyse trusted him enough to tell him at the nightfires that she wished someone would kill Margaery. But Ser Davos Seaworth had agents watching the nightfires, and they barely ever saw Bill there. Neither did the other members of Renly's guard report him to him have been particularly faithful. So, you say, Selyse knew Bill was a killer because she'd hired him, and trusted him as such. But then, Davos keeps track of such things, and no Rhllorite knights had left or returned in the time needed to be the 'red knight' in the confession.

"Then there is the matter of who she ordered killed. If Selyse had hired him to kill her enemies and both of them knew what he was there for, why on earth would she risk exposing both of them by telling him she'd like Margaery dead in the Red Keep? If Selyse did this, Margaery would be the primary target from the start. Selyse is convinced Margaery was spying on her. Selyse hated Margaery. She was not a subtle woman. But in this attack, the High Septon was the main target, with four men sent to kill him, and another man to kill Renly. Myself and Margaery were only added to the death list at the last minute, when they realized they had an opportunity to get all three at the same time, and, if this confession is to be believed, because Selyse mouthed off in broad daylight. She gained nothing from killing the High Septon besides riots. It makes no bloody sense. And if Selyse was clever enough to send an agent all the way to Tyrosh to recruit these killers, why would she act so stupidly as to have letters to the Ironborn lying about?"

The mob was, well, not convinced. Bored out of their minds more like it.

Thank Mary-Isis I'm not a lawyer.

"Worse, I went to talk to the assassin myself. He'd been tortured."

Some in the crowd began to cheer. "Cunt deserved it!"

"It might have gotten him to start talking, sure. Or it might have made him lie, to tell his captors what he thinks they wanted to hear. There's no way to tell. Without any real corroborating evidence, it casts doubt over everything he said."

"Now, think about where he said he was recruited. He was converted in Myr, and when I spoke to him, he told he'd been recruited in Tyrosh, closeby to Myr. Who has taken residence in Myr? Petyr Baelish, thief and traitor to the realm, and the Lannisters, claimants to the throne. Petyr's given the Myrish navy gunpowder weapons, you know. Varys, the old master of Whispers, was from there too, before he was driven out when we discovered he was using tongueless children to spy on us. Either have the means and the motives to destabilize the realm for their own ends. And if they set it up to have Rhllorites kill the Hand and the High Septon, right when a certain Rhllorite queen is unpopular…"

Christ-Horus. This is the sort of logic I would've laughed at two years ago.

More boos. Someone threw a rotten apple. She jerked out of the way, resisting the instinct to get her arm up. Just fruit, not bloody Cateran arrows. Trying to convince an angry mob didn't matter. It was the people behind her, not in front of her, who she needed to convince.

"So you're saying the Hand of the King is lying?" someone yelled.

Yes, or incompetent. Or just seeing what he wants to see.

"No. I'm saying he's mistaken. An understandable mistake, one our enemies want us to believe."

"Is there anyone else who would like to come forth?" Renly asked.

"I would." Davos Seaworth said. The small man came to the front, facing the crowd through a gap between soldiers, while Tane moved to the back, to stand besides Sace.

"As Master of Whispers, I can tell all of you what Tane said is true. No Rhllorite left for Essos or on any other sea voyage on my watch. Now, that's not all. I have men amongst Selyse's circle, to watch for any foolishness of the sort Selyse is said to have committed, and have had them talk to others, when they are in their cups. They all tell me the same story. She is a spiteful and unpleasant at the best of times. She has, more than once, said that she detests Margaery and believes her to be out spy on her. But she has never said much about Renly, or about the High Septon. Tane is right. If Selyse had ordered this, Margaery would have been the main target.

Why didn't I think of that?

Wasting time trying to get at the assassin's, when I could have gotten at those who knew them?

She supposed that was where thinking like a soldier in this court got her.

"Fuck off, Rhllorite!" someone yelled. More rotten fruit and then a rock, clattering off a man's helm.

"Now, will anyone else speak in Selyse's defence!" Renly yelled, once again.

"I would." A woman's voice said.

Selyse Baratheon clambered up the tourney stand steps, even more gaunt than usual. A pair of Storm's End guardsmen moved on either side of her.

Mary-Isis fucking the Father with a pole-axe…

Tane glanced at Sace. "Get the whole company here, on foot. There's going to be a riot. Renly's foot won't be able to hold the gate without backup. Go. Now."

She absent-mindedly loosened her backsword in her scabbard. She hadn't bothered with armour beyond her jazerant, but she'd brought the sword rather than her rapier. If she had to hold off a mob the extra cutting power would be more valuable than her rapier's reach.

Sace nodded, her face suddenly paler, and scurried off.

"I did not try to kill Renly Baratheon. I did not try to kill Margaery Baratheon. I did not kill the High Septon. I did not try to kill Tane Bayder."

"I was right to fear them, though, for now I know that they scheme against us. The Great Other stirs in the north, and godless savages march against us in the south. There are abominations of incest in the east. Someone, Varys or Littlefinger most like, seduced apostates from the Red God to their cause and sent them here, to make the faithful look guilty and to sow discord. You heard what Ser Davos and Lady Bayder said! Margaery and Renly are scheming against me, as they always have! She nearly died, and her first thought was how to attack me!"

Tane couldn't see the crowd, but she could hear them. They were bellowing, a solid wall of noise. A rock went flying, then another, clattering down behind the tourney stands.

Where's a helmet when you need one…

She glanced at Renly. "Pull Selyse back now. I'd want reserves up as well."

Renly shrugged. "Selyse must be given a chance to defend herself."

Idiot-

He knows exactly what he's doing.

She swore under her breath. She was going to have to save Selyse from her own stupidity all over again. She clambered up the tourney stands, past surprised Baratheon soldiers.

"Your Grace, it isn't safe-" Tane said, having to yell to make herself heard over the noise.

"Off! With! Her! Head! Off! With! Her! Head!"

"Quiet! They are clouded by the Great Other, I know-" Selyse said, looking down at Tane.

A rock hit Selyse in the side of the head, and she began to crumple.

Tane caught her, grunting with the effort, trying to haul her back onto the platform, moving without thinking. Selye's leg hung over the edge, and someone grabbed at it.

Someone was yelling about the bitch queen accusing Margaery of treason. A man leapt at the platform, trying to clamber up, but Tane kicked him in the face and a spearman drove the bottom of his teardrop shield down into his shoulder, dropping him. The platform felt like it was shaking, and Tane realized that the crowd must be pushing up against it for that to happen. One of the men on her left went down, blood pouring from his mouth.

Selyse finally came free, and she pulled down onto a lower level of the stairs. Her eyes flickered open, groggily. Blood was already running down the side of her face.

The guardsmen were jabbing with the bottom of their shields, trying to keep the crowd at bay. "Get someone up here to pull Selyse back!" Tane yelled.

She glanced back, saw Margaery rushing forwards, lifting her skirts. "We need calm, please-"

Renly caught her by the arm and pulled her back. One of Renly's non-coms was yelling for the archers on the wall to open up, and another man was calling hold.

A stone thudded into the ground next to her head. "Get Selyse back!" Tane yelled. A pair of guardsmen did as she said, hauling the big woman back. She pulled herself up, then grabbed at the nearest spearmen. The other Bill. "We need to get the civilians back inside, then fall back into the-"

A rock slammed into her shoulder, leaving her swearing bloody murder.

"Chop her bloody head off! Come on, we got blue balls out here!"

"Finish the bitch off!"

The human wave was pressed up against the stands, some heaving at them, attempting to push them over. They get through, we're all done. Some of the guardsmen were jabbing, spears coming up red, while others kept striking with the underside of their shields.

"Get the civilians back! NOW!" Tane roared, turning back to Renly and Margaery. She swore as the stand rocked under her, bracing and leaning like she on a pitching ship. It was like getting hit by a witch tilting gravity, only worse. At least she'd trained to deal with that, which put her at an advantage over Renly's men, several of whom had lost their footing and gone down.

Fuck this.

"Get back off the stands!"

She got behind one man, bellowed for him to fall back. Rinsed and repeated.

Another jolt and she fell.

She tumbled back, rolling with the impact down a couple of stairs, snarling in pain as her shoulder jarred. A few more men had fallen, one screaming as he landed arm first and snapped it like a twig. The rest were clambering back down as fast as they could, just as the stands began to rise up.

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck-

Calmness, vigour and judgement.

"Get everyone out of the bloody way! Now!"

Bill was yelling much the same. Arrows were flying, but the men they needed to deal with, those pushing the stand, were in cover.

She grabbed the man with the broken arm by the swordbelt and tugged. " MOVE! MOVE!"

They had nearly everyone clear when the stand was fully tipped over.

It came down on someone's legs. The guardsman screamed, shatteringly high pitched as rioters began to clamber over it. They might not have even wanted to attack them; might just have been pushed forwards by the pressure from the rear, trying to avoid suffocation.

They caught bullets all the same, the crack of musket shots rolling over her. She dropped to a half crouch, scrambling off to the sides. "Down and to the sides! Clear the line of fire! Move!"

She glanced about for Gryff. He was standing off to the side, bellowing orders. "Fire over their heads! Reserve pistols for anyone who keeps coming! Watch your line of fire."

"Gryff! The civilians back?"

He shook his head. "I think I saw them coming back in. Margaeries alright, and most of her lot. The queen's down."

Bill grabbed at her. "One of my men fell into the mob before the stands tipped, we need to get him…"

"Prepare to advance with bayonets!"

This was going to a long day, she could tell.

 

[Balaur]

"Who are you?" Lancel called, holding his dragonglass dagger and lit torch ready.

He could hear the wet, sputtering coughs of Hargrey behind him. He needed to get the fire lit, it was so cold.

"A man of the night's watch." The ranger said. He was all in black: his cloak, his coat, his hose, even the scarf over his face and the scabbard of his sword. His ravens came fluttering down, some perching on his back and others on the great elk that loomed in the mouth of the cave.

The man in black came closer.

"There's going to be wights coming, hundreds of them. The walkers know you killed two of them. My elk and my birds will lead them away."

"And us?"

"Just you. That blue bastard killed me, boy." Hargrey said, still on the ground. "I'm staying here. See how many of the fuckers I can take back to hell with me."

Lancel turned to look at him, and saw the blood oozing from his mangled wrist and out of the corner of the old man's throat.

"Just find me a glass dagger and a lit torch."

Lancel nodded, searching in the dark. He found the bag of torches Hargrey had grabbed in the rout, then lit one and handing it to him. He was about to go looking for the dagger when the man in black produced an arrow. "It's tipped with dragonglass. It'll do as good as a dagger against the dead."

Hargrey grunted in thanks.

Off in the distance, against the sound of the snowstorm outside, he thought he heard moaning. The elk had vanished.

"We need to go."

"It's a blizzard out there, the cave is our best-"

"Not above the earth. Through Gorne's way. The deep ways."

What?

"Underground." The man in black said. "We need to go."

Most of his birds went pouring out of the cave, cawing, into the storm.

Lancel nodded. "I just need to get my sword…"

His falchion was near useless against the dead, but it been at his side in two battles now. He found it quickly enough, wiped it down and sheathed it. He'd already gotten the bag of torches, and he picked up the pack full of rations when the old man offered it to him. "I'm not going to be needing them much longer."

He relit the fire, so that Hargrey could see. The man in black strode past him. "They're closing in. We need to move."

Lancel paused, thinking. Hargrey was right, he was good as dead with a spear through the lungs.

I can't just leave him to die alone, though.

He had to. He had to get back to the wall to warn them. That the Others had ice spiders, had wight ravens, that their wights could be put down with dragonglass as well as fire.

That they hadn't retreated back north, satisfied that they had purged their realm, but were hunting within a few days of the wall.

If he died, the death of Pyp and Grenn and soon Hargrey and everyone else were for nothing. As it was, it already seemed a tremendous waste.

"Send as many as you can back back to the seven hells." Lancel said, turning to follow the man in black.

"Oh, I will. Our blades are sharp." Hargrey broke into sputtering coughs as leant back against the wall, his torch in his one good hand, a tattered and bloodstained cloak with the flayed man of Bolton laying at his feet.

Lancel went down into the dark, into the throat of the world. Stones crunched underfoot as he went down and down, ducking his head under stalagmites here, clambering up over rock faces. He never let his eyes leave the man in black.

Once, he heard screaming and yelling behind him for a faint few seconds, before it cut out. His hand went to his falchion. "That came from behind us." The man in black said. "We go forwards." Half a dozen ravens fluttered around him, quorking.

Lancel nodded, and trudged onwards. There was nothing the glow of his torch, the walls when the caves closed in tight enough, and the man in black's silhouette up ahead. He obviously knew the caves. Whenever they came to a fork, he picked the route without thinking, and more than once he had them slithering down through narrow tunnels or clambering up through rockfalls rather than taking the most obvious route.

It was warm down in the caves, or at least warmer than the frozen hell of the surface. He felt like he was losing track of time. It could have minutes or hours or days. He didn't know how long he'd been fighting and marching, without stopping. He forced himself to keep moving. He had to put as much distance between himself and the pursuers as possible.

Finally, the man in black called a halt, at the shores of what had to be a lake. Water ran off into the distance, impossibly clear and still. "You're barely on your feet. Get yourself some sleep. I'll keep watch."

"But-"

"They're not chasing us. They killed the Bolton and went off tracking my elk."

How does he-

Oh.

Lancel realized with a start that this man in black had to be a warg. He had to be using his ravens to keep ahead of the wights. That was how he'd survived so long beyond the wall.

"Then you should sleep too, if there aren't wights." Lancel said. If the wights were gone, there was no need for a sentry.

"There are fouler things than wights in the deep places of the world."

Lancel threw his pack down as a headrest and virtually collapsed onto it, falling into fitful sleep.

*

When he awoke, the man in black was still standing watch, sword in one hand and torch in the other.

"I'll stand watch. You can sleep." Lancel said.

The man in black shook his head. "If you are ready to move, then I am."

"But-"

"I am well rested, I assure you."

Lancel got up and kept trudging. He didn't have it in him to argue if the strange ranger wanted to kill himself.

It went on for what had to be days, or even weeks. They went through caverns so vast the walls vanished from sight, and tunnels so tight he had to push his pack ahead of him to fit. They waded through underground streams, and were lit by shafts of light and sprinkling with snow coming through windows in the cave roof. Whenever he asked the man in black where they were going, he simply said "to safety."

Lancel had no choice but to believe him.

There were caverns with paintings on the wall. Spirals, carved lines, handprints, running horses and mammoths. Worse were the faces, thousands of them in one cave, all staring like the faces on weirwood trees. In another chamber, someone had broken off the great stone icicles and arranged them into spirals on the floor, with a dragonglass dagger at the center of every one.

Thrice they came across chambers filled with bones. The bones of adults and the bones of children, of bears and wolves, of elk and aurochs. Some of the skulls looked wrong. Brows too thick, teeth too long. One pile of bones was so big it damned the underground stream it was built in, and the pools of water nearby were blood red.

Stone knives like the one at his hip were scattered amongst some of them, though of grey flint rather than dragonglass.

"Graveyards from before there was a wall, and before the dead had to be burned." The man in black said. "If it's mostly animal bones, that's worse. It means Gendel's folk have been through here."

"Gendel's folk?"

"That's what the wildlings call them. Men who tried to use these caves to get under the wall, they say. Some of it is true. They made it through on the attack, but when they were beaten they became lost on the way back. They say they took to eating each other, and when they went blind and mad, they came up at night to hunt men and beasts alike on the surface."

Is he leading me back to the south side of the wall?

"Is that true?" Lancel asked. He didn't think it a likely tale, but then again, neither was a warrior-witch from another world or an army of the dead.

"No. There were hunters down here before Gorne's folk. They killed and ate his those of Gorne's men who didn't starve or go mad. They're no threat, as long as our torches stay lit."

Oh. His hands brushed his hilts, all three of them, out of habit.

Could the Others take that route?

He had to sleep six more times in the journey through the dark. Every time, the man in black stood watch, without a word and without sleep.

The third time he woke, Lancel finally got a good look at the man in black's eyes. His face was muffled by black, just like the black leather and cloth he wore. So was the hood, but even when he managed to get a look at the right angle, even his eyes were solid black.

He isn't a normal man. A warg with black eyes that scarcely needs to sleep?

He thumbed the dragonglass dagger tucked through his belt. If it comes to it… I'm behind him, and I have dragonglass. He won't get the drop on me.

They went on nonetheless. More than once, Lancel swore he could see movement in the corners of his eyes, and hear a noise like bats chirping. He had no idea if it was his imagination, or if he was about to add blind cannibals to the list of things he'd killed.

He kept most of his attention on the man in black. He was something far stronger than a normal ranger stranded beyond the wall. Stranger even than a warg. He had no intent to let his guard down.

*

At long last, after a particularly difficult crawl, he came out behind the man in black into a cave with impossibly huge icicles of stone dangling from the roof. Not icicles… skeletons. Dragons.

Before he could think about what on earth dragon skeletons were doing this far north, the man in black halted in front of him.

"I can go no further. You must take the last steps."

"Why? You've come all this way without rest."

"There are wards on your destination. Dead men cannot pass."

Lancel slipped the dragonglass dagger into his palm, as the man in black turned to face him.

"What are you? Tell me true, or I'll kill you where you stand. I'm serious."

"A dead ranger. Raised, but not by the Others. I serve a different master."

"Who?"

He motioned at what seemed almost like a staircase cut into the stone. "The route from here is on is simple. Climb it, and find out."

"Not until you tell me what you are."

"A dead ranger. Raised, by the enemies of the Others."

"Which enemies?"

The watch and wildlings seemed unlikely necromancers.

"The children of the forest and the last greenseer."

"The children are all dead. Deader than you are." Lancel said.

"South of the wall they are. The north is different."

"Nothing fire and glass can't fix." Lancel said, forcing bravado into his voice. He was trapped seven knows how far underground, with only a dead man for company. At least if he turns on me, I'll take him to the seven hells with me.

"They didn't come back from the dead. They never died in the first place. The cold preserves things that would have died long ago in the south. Like the mammoths and the direwolves. Like the Others. Like my master."

 

[Balaur]

No-one had lit any fires that she could see, at least. That was the only good news from the city. Half a dozen of Renly's men, men she had known for years now, were dead or maimed. Dozens or even hundreds more had been shot down as they'd tried to come pouring over the overturned stands. She hadn't seen it; she'd been fleeing in the middle of a huddle of her handmaidens as the Grenadiers had come charging past. She'd heard, it though: the roar of gunfire, the screams of panic, the barked orders scarcely audible through her half-deafened ears. Then the chaos had really set in : mobs of enraged citizens forced to flee from the stands, attacking Rhllorites on the streets, dragging them from their homes. The Goldcloaks were out in force, and the Silvercloaks as well.

"Selyse is conscious, at least, though the Maester said she's delirious." Elinor said behind her. She'd sent Elinor off asking after the Queen, since Renly had ordered her to stay put in the tower of the hand.

'Pity, that she didn't go the way of the High Septon" Meredyth Crane said. "An axe would have been better than a stone, I think."

"We don't know she's guilty." Margaery tutted "Oh, and Elinor? Did you see Renly?"

"There was a confession-" Elinor said.

"By the assassin, not by Selyse. Until then, nothing is certain." Margaery said.

Seven save me, Tane and Davos are probably right. There was the question of the Ironborn letter, but still…

That could have been planted by Selyse's enemies. Or Renly, or that Gared fellow. In which case Selyse is right. Selyse being right about something… well, the dead walked, so who knew?

She heard the sudden, distant crack of gunfire, wafting across the city.

"Some fool lit a fire over there…" Aunt Janna said, pointing out another window.

It was on the street of steel, near as she could tell. There was always smoke coming from the street, but this was far too much, and that blacksmith-Sallereon or whatever his name was-had his shop there.

"At least those are smith's shops, they should be hard to burn down…"

*

By the time the sun was setting the fire in the street of steel was out, but two had started down in the merchant's quarters. There'd been no more shooting, at least, though she'd heard more screaming, yelling and drumbeats than was entirely comfortable.

There was a knock on the door, and Elinor appeared. "Tane wants to speak with you."

She took the stairs, letting Elinor take her arm, her head spinning. Either Renly was lying through his teeth to everyone, or he was utterly deluded. Or the same, but for Tane or Davos. There was no way to know. Not even the assassin would know, if the killers had used enough go-betweens. There was only one person in the Red Keep who knew for sure, and no way to make her tell the truth.

She found Tane, Sace and two other Grenadiers at the base of the stairs, kitted up in breastplates and buff coats and arm harness for the officers. Both musketeers had their bayonets fixed. Sace's vambraces had blood spattered across them, and she looked paler than usual.

"Not her blood." Tane said. Margaery realized she was staring.

"There was a woman. She'd been, um, attacked, and I tried to help her since she wouldn't let any of the men get close enough…" Sace said.

Oh gods be good. Watching the rioters overturn the stands had been bad enough. Being caught on the ground amongst such a mob, with no name to protect her, no guards and no shelter...

She shuddered, remembered the daggers.

"Is the city safe? Where any of your men hurt?"

"It's still.. unstable. None of my men are dead, though there's plenty of bruises and a horse I think will have to be put down. The fires are under control, mostly."

"And the people?"

Tane pinched the bridge of her nose. "Hundreds dead. At least. Both from the rioters and my men."

Tane ushered her aside. Her armour clicked and rattled, and her hand went out to stabilize her sword. Margaery felt near naked compared to the bulk of Tane's metal and leather.

"You told me we had a week, not a few days."

Margaery has gathered that was what Tane was working towards asking her before Renly had interrupted

Margaery dropped her voice down to a whisper. "He must have changed it-"

Or lied. She didn't say that, though. Too much risk.

"Or lied to you." Tane said. "Put out disinformation, confuse the enemy. Whether whoever was putting out the disinformation knows it? That's completely optional." She shrugged, her lobstered pauldrons seeming to almost crunch with the movement.

"Captain Bayder?" Renly's voice called out.

"Yes?" Tane asked, turning.

Renly had arrived, half a dozen longbowmen in tow.

"My apologies for any losses you took. Is Sace unharmed?"

"No. Got blood on her helping a woman who'd been raped."

"What does the situation in the city look like?"

"At least a dozen dead or seriously wounded amongst our men. Hundreds of civilians killed, either by us or by the mob. There's fires on the street of silk, though at least Captain Jacelyn's got a bucket brigade going out there. We've managed to get a curfew going, and a couple of silvercloak coys cut their way through to the street of steel and defended the rhllorite merchants there. The big mobs have dispersed, but there's still packs of looters striking at the merchant's manses and fading into flea bottom. We're going to have to either lure them into ambushes or wait for them to get bored before this dies." Tane said, rattling it off like a scout reporting back.

"All because you couldn't wait a month or two for Stannis to return, or hold this thing closed court. What you thinking?"

"I have to admit to miscalculating with this, but there are good reasons to hold an inquiry."

"What bloody reasons? There are thousands killed or wounded out there and it's all down to this bloody inquiry! Hell, maybe if you'd actually told me when you were going to hold it, we could've gotten better preparations in place, but no, you had to go behind my back."

"I had to reassure the people that their concerns were being addressed, before they-"

"What? Rioted? You got your riot. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to have a look at the city from the walls. See if anything else got lit on fire." Tane turned and stomped out, her troops following.

"We need to talk." Margaery said, ushering Renly off into a side-chamber, away from lurking ears. She couldn't avoid any of the listeners that Varys had infested the walls with, certainly not without Tane's witch, but she could at least avoid any servants spreading rumours.

The moment she'd gotten Renly alone, she rounded on him. "Please tell me there was some sort of purpose to that. At least three of our household are maimed because of that."

Renly shrugged. "I didn't expect the crowd to become so aggressive."

"Tane warned you to pull Selyse back. Why didn't you-"

"There was no time. Even if I'd ordered it, she still would've been hit."

"You didn't know that when you ignored Tane. She's dealt with riots before. Back wherever she came from. You should have listened to her. Or not called this in the first place."

She saw the slightest flash of anger on Renly's face.

"It was necessary. I had to make it clear how guilty Selyse was to the people, so that Stannis would not simply pardon her."

"Oh, so you wanted the threat of a riot over Stannis's head? Funny, you just told Tane that you wanted to avoid a riot."

"Both. Stop a riot happening now, and use the threat of it to force Stannis to give us justice later."

"Pity it got hundreds killed, and us no closer to justice." She said.

"Selyse is wounded and may not recover."

"So that's it? Stannis forbid you from taking her head, so you had smallfolk stone her instead?"

"Selyse tried to have you gutted!"

"Someone tried to have me gutted. Maybe Selyse. Certainly not smallfolk having their homes looted and their daughters raped because of this." Margaery said. She kept her voice calm and level. Let the anger show and he'd never take her seriously.

"Don't tell me you believe Tane and Davos's nonsense."

"Davos is Master of Whispers and has no love for Selyse. Tane saved my life and her whole company fought for you. They have the same aim as you and I."

"Tane's been wrong before. She thought Cersei was innocent of incest." Renly said.

Mayhaps she was. The evidence had never seemed terribly convincing to Margaery. Not that it particularly mattered.

"Well, yes, the queen sleeping with her twin brother is rather harder to believe than rival claimants having their enemies killed. And she was right about Varys having filled the walls with children. She hasn't lied to me either-"

"The warrant she used to trick my men had Alester Florent's signature on it."

"Oh, seven save me, the Captain-General who likes dealing with prisoners personally wanted to interrogate one of the men who tried to kill her, and she got some signatures to make herself more convincing, so she's working for the queen who tried to kill me?"

"I'm not blaming Tane. I had to try and keep her out for the same reason I had to lie to you. I can't afford anything getting out to Selyse's people. If it did, they might try and destroy evidence, slip someone in to kill Bill, bribe witnesses before the inquiry… you have to understand."

"Oh, I understand that. What I don't understand is why you count your own wife amongst those you can't trust? Or think that Tane would try and cover up who tried to kill her?"

Renly shrugged. "I trust you, but I don't trust your hens, and I do not know which ones you would tell-"

"Elinor. Megga. They're my own blood, and Megga is smarter than she seems. I'd trust those two with my life. Maybe Sace, since I know she's loyal to Tane. The others? I'd keep my mouth shut."

"Regardless, I have proof beyond a murderer's word that Selyse is guilty. That letter, written in conspiracy with Balon Greyjoy-"

"Why? What does she gain if the ironborn attack the kingdom? Stannis or Alester will have to fight them, and if Stannis dies, you will easily sweep her aside. Who found this letter? They could have forged it seeking your favour."

The whole thing reminded her of being a girl in Highgarden, when someone or another would go tattling to the Septas or Mother. They'd always make their complaint as juicy as possible and point the finger at whomever they misliked, regardless of the truth. When it came down to he-said she-said, the favourite would be believed. Not the facts. She'd taken advantage of it more than a few times, but this was rather higher stakes than who'd stolen a bottle of arbor red.

"Unlikely. The man I put in charge of the investigation is most reliable."

Renly lurched forwards, grabbing her by the shoulders. He loomed over her, half a foot taller at least. She tensed, fearing for a moment he would chastise her.

"When Stannis comes, we must be a united front. Either we both go after Selyse, or we both claim to be mistaken. That would both be a lie, and destroy my reputation, and yours with it. The court and Stannis would think me a coward, a fool or a liar, Now, if we bring down Selyse? We're the heroes of the faith, and rid of an enemy. Even if Selyse if innocent, which I find unlikely, she was your enemy before this, and she is certainly our enemy now. We must finish the deed. It is a cruel thing to wound a beast, but not kill it."

His blue-green eyes bored down at her.

"Those men tried to kill us! They tried to kill your child! Do you not care who did it?"

"Oh, I do." Renly smiled crookedly. "That is why I want Selyse executed. That is the only way to see justice done."

Either he is framing an innocent woman and lying through his teeth to me about it, or a fool. Or I am.

 

[Redhead222]

Renly don`t try to out bullshit the nice woman who got trained to spot bullshit from miles away.

they are 2 are plotting 3 are counter plotting and nobody trust one an other while there still is some like or respect going around.
goddamn this is a mess of epic scale.

 

[Balaur]

"It's going to snow today, mark my words." Megga said, glancing up at the dark, overcast sky. The winter chill had well and truly set in. She'd spent the last half hour with her servants discovering the joys of trying to get several layers of sleeves over her splinted arm. The cold was making it ache, even more than it normally did.

"Winter is coming. Brace Yerselves." Elinor said, in her worst imitation of a northern accent.

Margaery laughed, despite herself. She needed levity.

There had been less and less sun over the last few months, as winter had wormed it's way in. Now the cold snap had finally came, and with it, the snow.

The three of them wound their way past a group of servants carrying laundry, past soldiers drilling with spears. Even with things as tense as they were, business went on as usual for the common folk. The city seemed calm, almost too calm, after the explosion of madness that was the riot, though she still didn't dare venture out to pray in the cities septs. Selyse was lucid, and seemed to be recovering from her injury, from what she'd heard from the spies she and Renly had planted amongst her attendants. They still had twice the usual number of armed guards trailing her, alert for any threats. She tried not to let herself get too on edge. After the night of the riot, she'd forced herself to stay calm, to think, to avoid talking to Tane or Renly more than necessary. When she'd met each of them, she'd played along, saying that wasn't entirely convinced but was leaning each of their ways.

Seven Above, what a mess. Olenna would laugh herself sick over this-

Well, only because Renly was being such a fool about it. She'd just smile and nod and let Selyse destroy herself, otherwise.

A year or two ago, she would have done the same without hesistation. Now, she had no idea what to do. Too much time talking to Septons and too little with the Queen of thorns, she supposed.

The anger was still there, that Renly had lied to her about who had tried to kill her, dragged her along in his little scheme without warning, then botched it so that dozens had needlessly died, but she felt calmer, somehow. More focused. She supposed distance bred clarity.

They arrived at the Red keep's sept just as the first flakes of snow began to fall. She caught one in her hand, and held it up to her face, peering at it. She thought it looked like a rose, before it melted.

She took turns praying at every statue, but she prayed longest and hardest to the Crone, begging for wisdom to light her path. She didn't dare say out loud why she needed that. She prayed to the Father too, that even if she had to convict Selyse, the true killers would face justice. Not Baratheon or Tyrell justice, mayhaps, but justice nonetheless. She didn't say that out loud, either.

"Lady Baratheon. You are wanted. By your lord husband. At the Small council chambers." A voice said behind her. One of her servants, Lanna she guessed.

Margaery stood up. "Renly wants me." She glanced at Lanna, favoured her with a smile. Feeling appreciated never did someones loyalty any harm, and besides, the servants worked hard enough to deserve it. "My thanks. Do you know if it is Stannis or the Ironborn?"

Anything involving Selyse would be dealt with in Renly's own quarters.

"I heard Oldtown mentioned…" Lanna said.

"Ironborn then." Margaery said. Either the Redwynes had managed to beat back this Euron fellow, or they'd been beaten and Oldtown and the Mander were open to raiders. They'd already taken the shield islands, and burnt much of the Redwyne fleet at anchor.

They crossed through the Red Keep, past Maegor's holdfast, a virtual prison now for Selyse and her household.

The Small Council chambers seemed virtually empty when she arrived. Randyll Tarly, Guncer Sunglass, Ser Arys and Father had all gone north, leaving only Renly, Alester, Davos and Tane.

"The Redwyne fleet was shattered by Ironborn warriors, and Oldtown writes to inform that Ironborn Dromonds and longships had been sighted outside Oldtown. A blockade or worse, a full siege is surely soon to begin." Renly said.

"And Highgarden?" Margaery asked. Even heavy warships could sail up the Mander.

"No word." Renly said.

Her nails dug into her good hand, and she felt her baby kick. The Hightowers were kin, but Highgarden… Willas, Garlan, and Olenna would all be butchered if the castle fell. Highgarden's garrison was strong and it had food stores ready to last an entire winter, but if the Ironborn managed to storm it by surprise or trickery, that wouldn't save them.

"They're raiders, they won't have the patience for a siege. Highgarden and Oldtown should be able to hold them long enough for the other Reach Lords to get organized and deal with them." Tane said.

"Euron managed to sneak into Lannisport and burn their entire fleet at anchor. Now he commands an entire host, and I have heard sailor's tales of him having sorcerous powers." Davos said. "He may yet storm Oldtown through cunning or brute force."

Margaery nodded in agreement. "We can't risk letting them sack Oldtown." If nothing else, the Hightowers were kin, and having the High Septon killed and the Starry Sept killed one after the other…

"Sending a fleet would be best." Davos said. "Send an army, or let the Reachmen call their own banners, and the Ironmen will simply retreat out to sea and strike somewhere else."

"We need the Royal Fleet to see off the Targaryens." Renly said. "Scorpions and swivel guns have the best chance against dragons. Did not two young dragons die at the gullet? Who is to say we can't outdo the Myrish and kill three? We'd be better sending troops. The Silvercloaks, perhaps. They would make a good core for the Reachmen to rally around."

"If you're worried about killing dragons, sending all your arquebusiers away to go hunting reavers strikes me as a poor idea." Tane said.

Alester stood up. "If we don't deal with these savages soon… we'd best get part of the fleet ready to sail. Perhaps only the King's Landing fleet. Leaving the Dragonstone fleet and those ships with Stannis to defend the city. I will lead it myself, so that the King himself can stay ready to defend the city."

Margaery misliked Alester-too smooth, too slimy. He'd done barely anything since the coup, neither defending his niece or condemning her. That made her think he was either planning something and laying low until it came to fruition, or a coward. Neither made him a man she would trust with a fleet.

"Stannis would mislike you making off with half his fleet." Renly said.

"That's why I'd only make ready to sail. I await Stannis's orders." Alester said with a smile.

Tane rapped her fingers on the table. "Do it quickly, and you should be able to smash their fleet then get home in time to kill those dragons."

"Oh, and one more thing. There was a raven from Dragonstone. Stannis was sighted at full sails." Renly said. "And on that note, I think I should dismiss the small council." Renly said. "I must prepare Stannis's welcome."

"I'm sure he'll enjoy seeing his wife's head bandaged at the welcoming feast." Alester muttered.

Renly ground his teeth. "I told Selyse that it was not necessary to confront the mob-"

And he knew that Selyse knew that he was trying to manipulate her, so she did the opposite of what he told her.

Tane moved to talk with her, but Renly slipped her hand into his and led her out of the chamber.

"Did Selyse order the killings?" Renly asked, once they were out into the courtyard. His tone of voice made it clear he wasn't asking what she believed. He was asking her in the tone Stannis would soon take, wanting to know who supported what.

She paused for a moment, thought on it.

Her heart told her Selyse was probably innocent but a fool, an apostate and an enemy of House Tyrell, no fit queen. Those who had tried to kill herself, the High Septon and her husband had to face justice. Her head told her there was no proof either way, no way to get at Baelish or Varys if she did pin in it on either of them and that no matter what happened, Renly was going to have to play things very delicately. If Renly fell, whether she backed him or not would determine whether she fell with him.

And now that Stannis had returned, and Highgarden was under threat…

"Yes. No. Mayhaps." she said. Whatever gets me through this with my head on my shoulders and my babe in line for the throne.

 

[Balaur]

The docks were choked with fog the morning that Stannis returned. The Fury loomed out of the mist like some monster out of legend, oars lifted and the fighting deck bristling with spears and longbow staves like spines on a dragons back. Half a dozen ballistas glared out over the city, and Renly spotted a pair of small cannons-"murderers", Tane called them-positioned on the forecastle, beneath the catapult.

Renly could hear the yells of sailors and stevedores echoing back and forth across the water as they dragged the bulk of the great dromond to its moorings. Armed men surrounded him; his whole household guard and several groups of goldcloaks, though he'd left the Horse Grenadiers at the Red Keep and kept the number of goldcloaks down. He didn't want to appear weak or expose himself to attack, but neither did he want to appear fearful.

He waited as the sailors threw the gangplank down. It seemed like an eternity. Finally, Stannis came down the gangplank. He seemed almost a vulture, his gaunt, balding head poking out from the bulk of the fur trimmed cloak thrown over his broad shoulders. Two kingsguard knights came before him and another two behind, their white armour almost blending with the fog. Loras was amongst them, though he could not tell which one. He wasn't close enough to see the roses Loras had etched into his helm.

The one in front, on the left, he decided, when he saw the rose pommel of his sword and his height.

He let Stannis come to him, Loras and the other knight standing aside to let Stannis through.

"Brother. Your Grace. I have grave news to report."

"Yes, I know. You have arrested my queen for treason and murder."

"Graver news. I had to hold a presentation of evidence to try and calm the situation. There were whispers of a riot if Selyse didn't face trial soon. Selyse decided to try and defend herself before the mob. I warned her against it, but she has a right to defend herself. She was struck and wounded by a rock thrown by the mob after she provoked them terribly. The mob rioted, but my men brought it under control."

Stannis actually flinched, anger crossing his face.

"You let Selyse be wounded? Did I not expressly tell you not to harm a hair on her head? How badly hurt is she?"

"She is recovering well, the Maester says. Fit enough to stand trial for her crimes."

"We shall discuss this at the Red Keep. Now, do you have me a horse or do you intend me to walk?"

A servant led a horse forwards for Stannis, one picked from the King's own stable. Stannis swung himself up onto horseback, as did the other men of the kingsguard. Renly had ordered Loras's favourite courser brought, of course, and had asked those of their squires and pages present to pick horses for the rest. Stannis rode side by side with him, snowfall speckling his cloak white.

"What is the state of the wall? Are we all about to be slaughtered by wights? Margaery is most concerned."

"Lord Stark has the wall well manned and well provisioned." Stannis grunted. "It should hold."

"Good. Very good."

Stannis turned back to the streets. The smallfolk shuffled out of the way as the river of horses and clinking mail pushed forwards through the fog and snow.

Stannis did not appear likely to do anything rash so far. That was good. Of course, he hadn't yet heard Davos, Tane and perhaps even Margaeries account of events, so that would change. As long as he didn't end up outright wrathful, Renly knew he would benefit. Either he could get rid of Selyse and have Margaery dominate the court to an even greater extent, or Stannis would try to punish him and he would play the martyr. Even if stripped of his position, he was Lord of Storm's End. He had contingencies in place. The only way it could go wrong was if he ended up killed or imprisoned, and Stannis was no kinslayer.

They were riding up towards Aegon's High Hill when Stannis next spoke. "I shall have audience with you in my solar. Await me there. I want a full explanation of everything that happened."

Renly nodded. "Of course. The situation in the city was… volatile. Not all my decisions were the right ones, I must admit."

*

He'd been waiting for what had to be an eternity outside Stannis's solar when the king finally arrived. His leg was screaming with pain, but he would not sit. That would mean showing weakness.

Stannis had changed into a black doublet, and had a pair of Kingsguard following him. Ser Morrigen and Cuy, Renly guessed from their height and Cuy's choice of a round shield. His expression was more than uncommonly angry. From the way his jaw was knitting, Renly was surprised he still had teeth.

"Come." Stannis said, opening the door. He was an inch short of braining himself on the doorframe.

Would be that he would. Stannis having an accident would make things much easier for, well, everyone.

Renly followed, and shut the door behind him as Stannis sat on the other side of his desk, lighting a candle.

"You have proclaimed the queen a murderer on dubious evidence, disobeyed your kings lawful commands, and set off a riot that has the queen bedridden and hundreds dead. You had best explain yourself most convincingly."

The flicker of candles and the fogged windows made the room seem near dark as it would at night.

"The confession plainly stated that the assassin was recruited by a Rhlorite knight from Westeros, that he had contact with Selyse, who knew he was an assassin, and that she said she wished someone would get rid of Margaery. It was read out to me who had tried to kill me in front of full court. I had no choice but to arrest Selyse. Letting her go on account of station when charged with such a grievous crime would set a poor precent, I think. And then her followers tried to stage a coup and we uncovered evidence that she had written to the Ironborn, offering the seas to the drowned god if they would help her rule on land. The smith Sallereon, when interrogated, said he had helped hide them and recommended Bill for my guard when asked. Every objection raised was that Selyse was too smart or to foolish to do this or that, not any real evidence. There is no good reason to think her innocent."

"Selyse would sooner see the Ironborn burn as idolaters who make mock of the Lord of Light." Stannis said. "As to the rest? All of that is well and good, but I expressly told you not to put Selyse on trial, or harm her at all. I warned you, I believe this is the work of our enemies, trying to pin the attack on Selyse, and you have played right into their hands."

"The people of the city drew restless and demanded answers, backed by radical septons. They feared you would not judge Selyse fairly. I did not put her on trial. I held an inquiry, where all the witnesses could give statements. No judgement but in the minds of those watching."

"That was foolish, brother."

"Oh, I agree. It was a poor decision on my part, I'll admit that. But it did seem reasonable at the time."

"A little more than a poor decision, I would think. As foolish as dangling meat in front of a wolf then putting it behind your back to stop the wolf biting you. Indeed, considering that you hid how long there was until the trial from mine own master of whispers and the Captain-General of the Royal Army, I would say a little more than foolish."

"Hiding how long was necessary to stop Selyse's supporters destroying evidence."

"Any evidence that could have been destroyed would already be gone by then." Stannis said, his face hard as stone. "You also, I hear, denied the rest of the small council the right to interrogate the prisoner Bill, instead leaving it to some merchant's son you fished out of the city. You recruited him as gaoler soon after Varys and Rugen fled, did you not?"

"An assassin was part of my retinue. Myrish mercenaries in your employ freed Littlefinger and the Lannisters. Do you not think keeping the guards careful was not wise?"

"How many six foot tall women who dress like a Tyroshi sailor do you think there are in King's Landing?" Stannis said. "And yet I hear Tane was evicted when she tried to interrogate the assassin herself, with Lord Seaworth's approval."

"The guards followed orders… a little too well." Renly said with a shrug. "They are good men, assasins aside. Now, what is to be done with Selyse? It is plain as day that she is a murderer."

"I will have Davos interrogate all those claimed as accomplisses and witnesses. He is a most reliable man, though I doubt the reliability of an assassin under torture. Especially if he had the presence of mind to sow further discord amongst us by blaming the queen rather than his benefactors."

"Are you saying that there will be no trial? That is madness! There would be another riot!"

"I am saying that there will be a trial. I will judge Selyse innocent or guilty, as the evidence shows. Not you or anyone else."

"Surely you will not judge, she is your wife, accused of trying to murder your heir-"

Stannis stood up. "I am the king, and I neither love nor hate her. I will do my duty. If Selyse is proven guilty, you have done me leal service, even if in an irregular fashion. I would not have a murderess as my wife. If she is proven innocent… many would call you a fool, or worse. There are some who already accuse you of fabricating the evidence against Selyse."

Stannis looked like he was scarcely holding himself back from making the accusation himself.

That may be a problem.

"I won't find out, because I am quite sure the evidence will convict her." Renly said, standing up. He had work to do.

*

"I think Stannis cracked a tooth when he heard that you'd slung Queen Moustache into a dungeon." Loras said, laughing. He lay beside Renly, hose unpointed and rolled down, shirt lost somewhere in the gloom. The combination of candlelight and sweat made his chest look like the sun rising over the blackwater.

"Better that than declaring me a traitor and taking you hostage." Renly said. He'd fended off Stannis for now, readied the trial, given Gared his newest directions, and had now taken a well deserved rest.

"If Stannis had tried to take me, his men would be dead before they hit the floor. This kingsguard is a joke, I reckon I could take them all." Loras's voice dripped with contempt. "Ser Fiche might be worth something, as is Ser Balon. Morrigen won a tournament, but that was sheer luck. I'd have to fight those three one at a time. The other three? I could probably take them all at once."

Renly believed him. At the melees Loras had fought in, his axe had been a blur of steel, his horse and himself moving as one. He was easily the most skilled knight knight Renly knew.

And the most beautiful.

"How is my sweet sister?" Loras asked.

"Oh, recovering well. I'm sure she'll get the use of her arm back. And get me an healthy heir."

"Margaery told me you lied to her without reason." Loras said, his voice suddenly serious.

"Well, yes, I had to stop any information getting out."

"You could have just told her to keep it secret." Loras said.

"She'd been spending too much time talking to Tane. Now I think she's convinced herself Selyse is innocent, but she's trying to hide it from me." Renly said.

"She's my sister and your wife. Those men tried to kill her. She wouldn't act against you." Loras said.

Renly nodded along. No point risking a quarrel. Loras had a hot temper at the best of times.

"Oh, I know. I was being over-careful."

"You shouldn't be. Selyse is a murderer, and you have the Stormlands and Reach at your back. You have the will to match Stannis, and the wits to exceed him." Loras rolled up onto his knees, grabbed Renly's hand. "I know you'll get justice for what she did to Margaery."

Oh, he would. He would. Justice, and more.

 

[Balaur]

Content warning for aftermath of torture and suicide(?), and generally being pretty bloody grimdark.

*

"What did we tell you last time, m'lady? No one is to see the prisoners without the permission of the hand of the king-" the guard said, shuffling nervously.

"Or King Stannis." Tane said. Davos passed him the letter. The man read it, raised an eyebrow, and passed it back. "Oh, um, yes. Of course."

Tane resisted the urge to grin. Try going obstructionist now, dogfuckers. He waved them through, lifting his halberd out of the way. Tane's party moved through: Herself, Davos, Morgan to watch for those bloody tongueless children in the walls, and two lances worth of Horse Grenadiers because she bloody well could march a dozen of her men through Renly's dungeons at the order of the King.

Her hand went to steady her backsword as she went down the spiral staircases that led into the black cells. Davos had given her his orders that morning. Stannis wanted the interrogations repeated on both prisoners, by both her and Davos. It had been Davos's suggestion, to see if the prisoners contradicted themselves or each other. There was no way to get them to tell the truth and know it, but they could at least expose them as liars.

She came out into the guardroom lit only by bare torches on the wall. A pair of longbowmen were sitting at the table, dicing. They didn't notice as they came down into the room.

"You should be very glad right now I'm not one of your Non-coms. First time I've ever snuck up on someone in armour. Now, would someone get whoever's in charge here? Ser Davos wants to see the assassin and the smith. Stannis's orders."

One of the longbowmen jumped up and scurried off.

"We were off duty-" the second man said.

"Don't care. A dozen armoured soldiers stomping into your guardroom should merit at least a glance." She leaned back, rolled her shoulders with a rattle of plate. She'd drawn the line at full plate, but she'd put on half-harness for this. Intimidation value.

They waited for what had to be an eternity-she hadn't bothered bringing her pocket watch-before the Red Keep's gaoler arrived. He was a slight, well dressed man in a cheap but well cut doublet with clipped black hair and a dagger on his hip. Rather different from the Varys in disguise that they'd had before.

"Apologies to keep you waiting." He led them into another stairway. "And about last time? I know, those orders were nonsense. Renly being foolish. Orders are orders though." He shrugged. "You understand."

That depends entirely on whether he's sincere or arse-covering.

"Do you want to deal with Bill first, or Sallereon?"

"I will see Bill. You can see Sallereon." Davos said.

"Yeah. Bill will recognize me. Might alter his responses." Tane said.

They came down out of the staircase and went through another corridor. "I should warn you that Bill is… dangerous. He's tried to attack the guards to force them to kill them. It didn't work."

He marched up to a door and unlocked it, swearing under his breath as he fumbled with the keys. "I'd suggest taking off your daggers. Don't want him to grab them and try and kill you. Or himself."

Gared opened the door. She nearly squeezed her nose shut from the scent. She wasn't ever going to get used to the smell of dungeons. He snapped his fingers. "Bill, get up." He stomped in. "Wake up." She saw him kick at someone. "Bill, get up-"

He knelt down to grab him.

"Bloody hell!"

"What is it?" Tane asked.

"He's dead, or near enough as makes no matter."

She grabbed a lantern and strode into the room. Bill was slumped forwards, blood smeared across the wall behind him. As she looked closer, she saw blood matted into his hair on the back on his head. His fingernails had been ripped out as well, and his shoulders were a red and purple mess.

"You killed him, you bloody idiot-"

"He probably killed himself! By beating his head against the wall. Prisoners have done it before." Gared said.

"Bloody hell." Tane turned back to her grenadiers. "Blodwen, go get Connor." The company surgeon would do a better job at detecting foul play than Renly's torturer. Blodwen nodded and took off at a quick march, musket shouldered.

"Corporal Carrow, you and two men stay here to guard the body. I'll take the rest to check on Sallereon."

If both of them killed themselves… there were going to be questions asked. Pointed questions.

"Gared, take me to Sallereon. Now."

"Of course." The gaoler stood up, and hurried off, Tane following after him. "How often did you check on him?"

"Oh, we have guards outside his cell. We feed him at 12 and 9. I last came to talk to him a few hours ago. "

'Did he say anything to indicate he would kill himself?"

There were three options. Suicide, murder by an outsider who had someone gotten into the cell, or murder by one of the guards and gaolers.

"Well, putting men to the rack does tend to have unfortunate effects on their will to live." Gared said.

He came up to another door and opened it. "What do want of me now?" A man asked.

"Someone wants to ask after your safety. And talk to you." Gared said. He turned around. "If you need my men to bring him to the rack room-"

"That won't be necessary. For now." Tane said. She shouldered past him, harness clinking.

Sallereon lay chained to the wall, in a ruined shirt and not much else. A ragged beard marked his face.

He turned to glare at her as she came in. "I already told you what I know-"

"You housed the man Bill, gave word of his good character to Renly's household guard, and did so in full knowledge of the fact that he was an assassin." Tane said.

Poor fucker's most likely innocent.

"Yes, yes-"

She turned around and locked the door behind her. "Tell me what I need to know, or you get the rack. Again."

"I told you everything!"

"Not everything. Problem is, who sent the assassin? Selyse? But she is hardly clever enough to have sent a man all the way to Tyrosh without being noticed by the Master of Whispers. Except… the Master of Whispers when you were recruited would have been Varys. Who then fled two moons before the attacks took place."

"Who is Varys?" the man asked. He seemed genuinely confused.

"The eunuch spymaster. He is fond of many disguises. He always appears plump of face and round of body, though. Do you remember anyone of that description?"

"No!"

"Maybe the rack would quicken your memory."

Threatening a most likely innocent man with torture was hardly her proudest moment, but she had to prove his testimony couldn't be relied upon.

"I, I, um… there was a customer. He called himself a Manderly. He looked like this Varys man you said."

"And what did he tell you?" Tane asked with her best growl.

"He ordered an, uh, a suit of armour. He wanted it fixed after the tourney. He said me giving room and board to Rhllorites was most generous."

"Oh, I'm sure Lord Varys told you more than that. What did he say?"

"He ordered a suit of armour and-"

She lunged forwards, cat-quick, and grabbed his wrist, her other hand going to the dagger in the small of her back. He jerked back, but screamed as that put pressure on his racked shoulders. "What. Did. Lord. Varys. Say? Tell me or I'll cut your arm open. Nothing fatal, just fuck the tendons up enough that your hand won't work for a while. Or never, if the stitches don't take. Just ask Margaery."

"He, he- He told there were assassins coming that I needed to help, oh God please-"

She let go of his hand. "There. No need to lie. Now, so. Queen Selyse and Varys were working together to undermine the realm. But who benefits? King Stannis? Killing the High Septon would just result in a new High Septon. Hardly a benefit to the Red God. But killing him would create instability, as would killing the hand."

"I don't know, I was just a catspaw!"

"What are your beliefs on House Targaryen?"

"They were born of incest and abominations."

"Tell me the bloody truth. That's what the Red Priests say. But that's not what they want, is it? Fire purifies. Fire cleanses. And the dragons have fire aplenty. Varys was raised up by Aerys, at the same time Thoros of Myr came to court."

"What? No!"

"Think again. Or I'll make you think."

He shut his eyes, shaking hard enough that his chains rattled. "I wanted the dragons restored, that I confess."

"So Selyse, Varys and the Targaryens are working together to disorder the realm. And Selyse wrote a letter to the Ironborn, so Euron Greyjoy is in on it too. But who else?"

"I don't know, I was just a blacksmith, I told you everything."

"Not everything. You've been lying to me."

"Everything I said was the truth." He was still shaking, cringing away into the corner of the cell.

"Petyr Baelish. The master of coin. He bankrolled this, didn't he? He's based in Myr, near where the assassins where recruited. Did they mention anything about him? A short man, slight? Maybe in disguise?"

"No!"

"Think again. Good with many? Anyone who payed a suspiciously large amount of money, just before or after the assassin's where in your shop?"

"No! No, I have papers of all my finances, you can check for yourself..."

"Your shop was burnt in the riots. Your word is all we have. Now, do I have to loosen your tongue?"

"A short man arrived just before Lord Manderly-Lord Varys I mean-and promised me money if I hosted the assassins."

"I've heard enough."

She turned her back on him, and slammed the door behind her.

"So what did he say?" Davos asked, as soon as she was out.

"Apparently, Selyse, Varys, Littlefinger, the Targaryens, and that crazy fucker with the flaming sword are part of a grand conspiracy. Oh, and Littlefinger was in the city all along and Varys is a Manderly." Tane said.

She rounded on Gared, stalked forwards closer than he was comfortable with, backed him up against the wall. "Or you've tortured one source into babbling back whatever is suggested to him and let the other one kill himself, you fucking incompetent bastard."

"I did nothing untoward. It was the only way to get him to talk."

Tane spat. "Talk nonsense, sure. Kill themselves, sure. But we're no closer to sending sicarios or war galleys after whichever whichever bastard actually tried to kill me."

Isis fucking Mary, this just keeps getting worse and worse.

 

[Balaur]

The throne room was an island of red in a sea of fog that morning. Robert had removed the dragon skulls, and Stannis the hunting tapestries he had replaced them with, leaving only crowned stag banners and stark red stonework. At least he hadn't put up the flaming hearts his wife was so fond of.
The throne room was packed with courtiers that morning. Stannis had arrived before most of the crowd, and was busy being uncomfortable on the Iron Throne while his courtiers filtered in. Alester Florent and the other Queen's Men-Melisandre, Lord Sweets, Lord Beric Dondarrion and dozens of landed knights and second sons who'd converted to the faith-stood around her. She hadn't been popular before the attacks, and now all her friends but the most dogged had abandoned her cause, or were keeping their distance, to see how things would play out. The queen herself was not present, confined to Maegor's holdfast for protection against the mob by the King's order.

More were the King's Men-those who, officially at least, stood by the King's judgement. Davos, Tane, Lords Celtigar and Velaryon and Sunglass, Ser Andrew Estermont-Stannis's old squire, Justin Massey and dozens of others. The cautious and undecided, or those who bore Stannis their personal loyalty.

Then there were her own supporters, or rather, Renly's. They filled half the room. Stormlanders and Reachmen, and a few Valemen and Riverlanders too. Half a dozen great lords she could count, besides Renly and her own father. She stood at the front, Renly on one side of her and Mace on the other. They had their knights and bannermen arrayed behind them, just as she had her handmaidens.

The whole room seemed to be murmuring at once, as more and more of them filtered in. Finally, Stannis raised his hand and stood up from the Iron Throne.

"The assassin Bill, he who tried to kill my brother, is dead. He killed himself yesterday."

Well, that wasn't a surprise. Renly had already told her, after some prodding. He'd died a few hours before Tane's men had entered the dungeons, looking to interrogate the prisoners themselves. Not at all a coincidence, she suspected.

"He beat the back of his head against the wall." Stannis added. "Though he is dead Queen Selyse Florent, Ser Imry Florent and the smith Sallereon shall stand trial. No sooner, and no less."

"Who will stand in judgement!" someone shouted. She didn't catch who it was.

"I will." Stannis said. A murmur passed like a shockwave through the crowd.

"Your Grace? You would try your own wife? Surely if you were to forgive her, men would doubt it's truthfulness, while if you convicted her, men would say you sought a new wife?" Lord Sunglass asked, stepping forward from the mass of King's Men.

"Aye, I would stand in judgement." Stannis said. "I would not let my wife be beheaded or slandered if innocent, but neither would I let myself be married to a murderer."

There was more murmuring.

Stannis spoke up again. "As you all know, the forces of Euron Greyjoy have scattered the Redwyne fleets and now threaten Oldtown. I mean to have two-thirds of the fleet sail out to meet them. They outnumber will outnumber them ship-for-ship, but they have only light galleys and longships, not war dromonds and great cogs. The remaining third shall remain to protect the city against any surprises from the west."

"And who shall be command them?" Lord Alester Florent asked, stepping forth from the Queen's men.

"You shall be." Stannis said. "As my Master of Ships, there is no better man." The words had the awkward, clipped tones Stannis had when he'd been rehearsing something.

He's going to let her off. Tane was right, the evidence was in Selyse's favour. Bill was dead; no chance of Renly trotting him out with a new, damning confession, but then again there was no chance of him just recanting the old confession. And Stannis already misliked Tyrells and his brother. He would believe men like Davos over Renly any day, even without Renly having turned the inquiry into a bloodbath. And now he'd all but announced he didn't mind sending a Florent a long way away with a large force of troops.

Seven above, why did this have to be complicated? It had seemed so easy then. Have her attacker beheaded, roll up her faction at court, have the support of an enraged faith, be the mother or wife to the undisputed heir to the Iron throne. Without Selyse's influence, there was no chance that Stannis would push for Shireen. Then Renly had lied to her about who had to murder her, lied to her about what date he was holding his inquiry, and then nearly gotten her killed with how badly he had botched it, leaving her riding a swell of righteous indignation. He swore up and down he had a plan in case they failed to convict Selyse, but Margaery had her doubts about it.

In any case, if that plan involved open conflict with Stannis… that was too dangerous. A civil war would be everything Aegon and Euron wanted, and that wasn't even getting into the armies of the living dead. If they descended upon Westeros, it didn't matter if her child was in line to the throne. They wouldn't live long enough to see it.

There were more petioners after that, Rhllorites demanding compensation for damage in the riots, a couple of landed knights with a land dispute from the northern crownlands, half a dozen other complaints. Stannis chewed through them all with grim resolve, growling out judgements. The crown was not responsible for damages in the riots, but he would order doubled goldcloak patrols in affected areas. The dispute went to Ser Harwyn Brogan.

Then he dismissed them all, and they filed out. She stayed close to Renly, in the middle of their huddle of retainers and handmaidens. "Would you take lunch with me?" Margaery asked in her most innocent voice.

"Of course, my sweet." Renly said. He somehow managed to inflect his just so, to make it sound sincere. For a moment, she saw how so many other women, who did not know him as she did, could have fallen in love with him.

*

"What are you going to do if Stannis lets Selyse off?"

"Why?"

"I was misled about who tried to kill me and nearly killed by a mob the last time you didn't tell me about your plans." Margaery said. She didn't bother trying to honey-coat her words. "I want to know."

Renly shrugged. "If he lets Selyse off, I shall resign my handship in protest then ride south to Oldtown's aid, rallying all the swords of the Stormlands to me. I will be a hero treated unjustly, coming to the rescue of the true center of the faith."

"And if Alester Florent gets there first?" Margaery asked. "If Stannis decides whatever happened to Bill is you covering your tracks, and has you arrested for treason? If I am too weak to travel?"

She'd felt surprisingly well throughout the pregnancy so far, some naseua and vomiting early on besides. But she did not want to end up giving birth in a stranger's castle, far from home, whether that be Highgarden or King's Landing or even, she supposed, Storm's End.

"Stannis won't charge me with treason."

"He might." Margaery said. "He's already made up his mind about Selyse. And that death does look like hiding something."

"There is still the letter." Renly said. "That's like a bloody dagger."

"And who found the letter?" Margaery asked.

"Gared. My gaoler. He led the search of Selyse's apartments."

"And who has the letter now?" Margaery continued.

"The Onion Knight. He took it off Gared when he and Tane raided the dungeon."

The former smuggler. The current master of whispers, working with a woman who commands former goldcloak officers. They will know men who know how to detect forgeries.

She paused for a long while in thought, taking small, precise bites out of her lemoncake. Thoughts galloped through her head.

If the letter was found to be a forgery, Stannis would not just have Renly judged innocent with the whole thing assumed to be Renly being outplayed by enemies seeking to sow division. This would be taken as treason. And if that treason was pinned on Renly by Stannis, there would be seven hells to pay.

She had to protect herself and her babe, and Renly if possible.

"Do you trust Gared?" Margaery asked. Of course not. But she had to frame this right, not confess that she was complicit in her husband's treason out loud.

Renly laughed "Of course not. He loves only coin."

"Well, I don't trust him either. If he brought down a queen for you, he'd know he'd be handsomely rewarded. He could be buttering up the evidence. It would explain all those little inconsistencies that have crept in."

Renly's the one buttering it up, I'm sure of it. Arguing with him about his foolishness was one thing, saying out-loud he was complicit in treason was quite another.

"And your point is?"

"Cast him loose. At the first opportunity. This is his fault, feeding you false information."

"False? I think not."

"We'll see. And if this doesn't work out-"

"It will. Even if Stannis lets her off, I will resign my Hand in protest and head south."

"Where Alester Florent will have beaten you to Oldtown, getting the heroes welcome. And if Stannis declares you guilty of treason?"

"I will deny such false claims, flee south-"

"And call the banners, starting a war. Gared is guilty of treason." Margaery said. "You should have him arrested for it. To do do otherwise…"

"Not a chance. Every dealing Gared has had with me has been completely honest. If Stannis refuses to see the truth, it is his own blindness at fault."

"I still don't trust him. Remember who the last gaoler turned out to be?"

"Oh, please don't tell me he's Davos in disguise." Renly said.

Margaery laughed, despite herself.

"Not Davos in disguise. Another Varys. Undermining us from within, for his own goals."

Another scapegoat, more likely. But if Renly could be convinced to blame him, to throw him down…

"I rather think that's reaching." Renly said, finishing off his plate. "The evidence against Selyse is perfectly good. If Stannis spares her, it will be because of cowardice, not because of the evidence."

He won't do it, she realized. Won't take the humiliation of admitting to being wrong. He'll stand his ground, insist Stannis was wrong, hoping to make himself a martyr-

-And then Tane and Davos will cut out his scheme from under him, and he'll be destroyed and me with him. Or he'll call the banners, and fight, and leave a feast for crows when the dragons and the demons come.

She nodded. "Of course." She smiled slightly. "You've dealt with Gared, you've gathered the evidence, you will know more than me."

She knew what she had to do.

*

She met Tane later that day, in the gardens that had been packed between the Throne Room and

the walls. They had been Myrcella's rose gardens, once, but if Myrcella had a rose garden now it was in Myr. She'd asked Lady Merryweather to ask Tane to meet her there, and the look of vague suspicion from the Myrishwoman confirmed what she was already fairly sure of. If I was fool enough to do that, I wouldn't go through her. Taena was not the sort of person you put a particularly large amount of trust in.

She found Tane standing by a fountain. Her cloak hung halfway down past her knees, the sheath of her sword poking out the back. Margaery adjusted her own shawl, lined with northern furs. The cold made her wound ache, and she was sure it couldn't be good for her baby.

"Could've picked somewhere warmer." Tane said. "Guess you were worried about the listeners in the walls?"

Margaery nodded. "Speaking of listeners in the walls, could they have killed the assassin Bill?"

"I wouldn't be surprised. Though I have other suspicions." Tane said.

"Not Selyse's agents. He has already written down the confession, and it would make her look too suspicious."

"That, and keeping the assassin alive and getting him to recant would be the best bet. The confession can't be relied upon. I interrogated Sallereon, the blacksmith, and they'd tortured him so badly he confessed to Selyse, Varys, the Targaryens, the entire red faith and the Ironborns all being part of one conspiracy. Also, Varys is apparently Lord Manderly in disguise."

"Like Lord Rowan at the end of the dance." She said. Tortured until he confessed to causing the doom of Valyria.

"Aye."

"It's Gared. The gaoler. He has access to the prisoners, he would have gotten the confessions, Renly told me he found that letter to the Ironborn…"

Tane already knew there was foul play. She just had to distract her, convince her Gared was the traitor and Renly only his unwitting accomplice. Gared's house of lies was going to come crashing down sooner or later, and she just had to make sure herself and Renly weren't inside it.

"And he came into service after Varys vanished, at around the same time as the assassin Bill joined Renly's guard." Tane said.

"Exactly. I tried to warn Renly he was dangerous, tried to tell him he was not to be trusted."

"Bloody idiot." Tane was pacing, her cavalry boots crunching in the light dusting of snow, thumbing the big shell-hilted dagger she wore on her sword side.

"Oh, I know." Margaery said. "Renly puts too much trust in him, relies on him too much. It would be easy for him to deceive us all…"

Then she added "Gared is dangerous. I've heard boasting that he wears two knives on him at all sides, and he won't ever be on the other side of a jail cell." Kill him, when you come for him. Just end this here.

Once it got out, those who believed it would see Renly not as a traitor, but as incompetent. Those who did not… they would still see Selyse as an enemy, Renly as a martyr, and Gared as the victim of Stannis trying to cover up his wife's guilt.

And even if Renly did fall, she could not say she had not seen through part of his plan, had not separated herself too far from him.

 

[Redhead222]

the multi level shadow play going on around here is hurting my head

 

[Chloe Sullivan]

Good on Maegery for seeing that Renly is in over his head.

 

[Balaur]

She was practising sums with Tommen when there was a knock on the door.

"M'lady, Magister Nelyn wants to meet with you." The slave said. Genna nodded.

"I'll be back. You can finish doing the sums, if you want."

"Of course." Tommen said. He'd always seemed... slower than his sister, but he was a dutiful study nonetheless.

She stood up and followed Essie, one of Magister Nelyn's slaves. She was a short woman, Westerosi by the looks of her and her familiriaty with the common tongue, and deferential to a fault, even more than Westerosi servants. She did not act like she feared being beaten or cast out. She had been beaten and sold, probably more than once.

Fucking ironborn, in the rebellion. Or raiders out of the stepstones. She supposed it had been long enough since the Dragonstone Usurpation for slaves taken by Ironborn at the sack of Lannisport to have filtered into the Essosi trade. She took off down the corridors, Essie struggling to keep up with her long strides.

This could be another meeting about how uneasy the other Magisters were with making themselves a target for both Aegon and Stannis, and trying to convince her to hurry up and invade(with what army?). Or it could be Littlefinger's mission to acquire a Targaryen groom for Myrcella, with no explanation for what would happen to Tommen.

"Do you have any idea what Nelyn wants with me?" Genna asked. "No, M'lady." Essie said, nervously. "His Excellence only told me to find you and bring you to him."

"Well, I suppose we are equal in our ignorance, at least." Genna said.

Essie didn't respond to that.

They came up to the doors of Magister Nelyn's study.

Genna knocked twice, then opened. "You wanted me?"

"Oh, of course." The magister sat behind his desk in his finest robes. "It is about the letter that Petyr Baelish has sent."

"Show it to me." Genna said.

Nelyn pushed the letter across to her with a meaty hand.

Aegon is willing to take a second wife. Aegon wishes his dragon to have three heads. He believes himself the conqueror come again. Marrying Myrcella will bind the Lannisters and the Baratheon's Valryian blood to his cause(though not, he says, their royal claims, for those are invalid). He will proclaim Tommen Lord of Casterly Rock. Daenerys has assented to such a union. Come with all haste east. Volantis has risen up against the Masters, and their fleet was taken intact. We will sail soon for Westeros.

Her eyes narrowed. If this was sincere… they would have Casterly rock back again, Myrcella on the throne, Tommen in a position to reclaim what was his(though she suspected Myrcella would be a rather better queen than he would be a king). If it wasn't… it could be a trap, to lure out rival claimants to the Targaryens. Or she could simply end up with her grandniece, scarcely ten, married to a madman while competing with Daenerys for his affections. She'd been married off younger than that. It wasn't an experience she would let Myrcella go through, of that she was sure.

"I will talk to Tommen and Myrcella about it." Genna said. She'd already spoken to them half a hundred times about this. Tommen didn't really care to be a king, but he seemed like he would be easily manipulated by anyone who wanted a war, and that would pit him against his own sister. Myrcella was insistent that she would do whatever was necessary to help Tommen his throne back, but Genna could tell she was scared.

"And if they refuse, will you remain here forever?"

Genna shrugged. "If they refuse, I will try and convince them. And if that does not work, no, I will not surrender Baratheon crowns to the Targaryens without good cause."

"This is the best opportunity you have had since coming here. The other Magisters grow impatient. They do not wish for Myr to be sacked by Daenerys's mob of rebels and criminals. My men overheard a bravo in the city trying to recruit men to break in here."

She'd heard of the Magisters getting impatient, but outright planning to attack her was new.

"So they scheme openly against us?"

"My men feigned interest in the offer, lured him away, then cut his throat. He's no threat now."

She breathed a sigh of relief.

"There are other, subtler, schemes against you as well. Sooner or later, one will succeed. You are not the only Westerosi exile here. Varys is in the city, spinning his webs. I do not know for whom he works, but it never bodes well."

"Then we'll move to another city, and then another after that." Genna said. "It worked for Daenerys and Viserys. Look where she is now. This marriage… Aegon is a fool if he would let someone who is first in line for the throne become a Lord Paramount. And what will the faith think of a polygamous marriage? Nothing would rally Stannis's lords more easily. Besides, it means sacrificing Tommen's crown."

Nelyn paused for a long while.

"Mayhaps Aegon is a fool. Does it matter? He will take Westeros with his dragons and unsullied and Golden Company, he will marry Myrcella like he wants, and then Myrcella can undermine him from within and Tommen can raise the west to his name."

"And what if his advisors are no fools? This is dangerous. Very dangerous. Lys sounds a lovely location to wait out the winter."

"I'm afraid this situation is too important for that. If you leave, I have gained nothing from hosting you for two years."

"Besides offering the Myrish fleet gunpowder." Genna said. "Surely that pays for sheltering a pretender or two."

"The one who gave me gunpowder is the one who wants this marriage. He is also the one who's men rescued Tommen and Myrcella and who had you brought here after you escaped." Nelyn answered. "If you stay, well, Aegon or Varys or the other Magisters will cause problems sooner or later. But if you go… it could be a trap, certainly. Petyr trying to jump ship to a more likely king. I would not put it beyond him. But it could put you and yours in position to reclaim the throne. And if you did… I'm sure the Conclave of Myr would be willing to help throw down the dragons, when the time comes. Daenerys's slaver's bay adventures have already caused us considerable grief. if you fear a trap, well, I will give you the gift of five good war galleys, fully crewed and provisioned with marines. Dependant entirely on you travelling to Slaver's Bay. And not attacking Myr, though I doubt the crew will be in much of a position to do much about that. I am not a patient man, but no one will ever say I am not generous."

Genna sighed. "I will think on it." Seven be damned, why couldn't she just have buggered off to the Summer islands? They were being forced into a trap, or binding themselves to an idiot.

*

She was awoken that night from her dreams by screaming. She thrashed for a moment, thinking of going for her dagger, then stopped herself. Just a nightmare, not the fight in the high passes-

But as she awoke and her thoughts unravelled, she realized that it wasn't a nightmare, it was a rather pleasant dream involving several Dothraki. And then there was another scream.

She froze in place, shocked.

"Get bloody lanterns lit, secure the Baratheons! Assyrio, take half the men and head to Tommen's chambers. Valyn, take the other half and secure Nelyn. I'm going to the guardhouse and get reinforcements up for both of you, then investigate the noises. Now bloody move!" a guard captain bellowed, barely outside her door.

The crossbowmen gave a yell that could only be described as a "haroo!"

She swore under her breath as she rolled out of her bed, grabbed her dagger from the nightstand, and felt her way to the door. Light was flickering under the corridor. She pulled the door open, nearly screaming and shutting her eyes as the glow of a lantern-shield caught her full in the face.

"It's Genna! Don't shoot!"

She heard swearing, and Asyrio swung his lantern shield away from her. The wiry bravos was half hunched down behind his ungainly shield, crouching so the crossbowmen had a clear shot past him "Come with us. We're heading to the nursery."

She fell in with them, scurrying along the corridor. She had to jog to keep up with the guards strides.

She heard the unmistakable pang of Myrish steel-prod crossbows loosing, down in the courtyard.

Someone was yelling orders, and there was screaming too. Her heart was hammering faster in her chest, and she felt oddly cold in only her shift and smallclothes.

Asyrio jerked to a halt, and she nearly slammed into his back.

"Tommen's room." He said. He pushed at the door with the gauntlet built into his shield, but it wouldn't budge. Myrcella's door, in the room across, hung ajar.

"I've got guards! Is there anyone in there!" Asyrio yelled.

No response.

"Check Myrcella's room." Asyrio snapped. One of the crossbowmen moved off to check her room, resting his crossbow on top of his lantern-arm.

"Tommen!" Genna called. She thumped on the door.

"No sign of the girl." The crossbowman said.

The yelling was coming closer.

Her heart was hammering. "Tommen!"

She kicked the door in frustration.

"Tommen! It's aunt bloody Genna, open up-"

Something whirred past her head, and then hell broke loose. Asyrio whirled, his lantern beams silhouetting figures advancing down the corridor with long, whip thin swords in one hand and small crossbows or daggers in the other.

"Right side! To our right!"

There was the metallic, jarring pang of crossbows loosing, right next to her ear. She cringed on instinct.

"Loading! Cover!

She fumbled for the dagger she'd grabbed as the attackers charged, loosing as they came on. Asyrio's men didn't have time to reload before they were on him.

It didn't matter. He blinded the first man with his lantern and opened his throat from ear to ear, twisting out of the way of a flailing stab and the man's falling body, then grabbed the second man's blade with his mail-lined gauntlet and thrust him through the head, just beneath the eye. A third man tried to jink around his left while he freed his sword, but tripped over the first man's body, clipped Asyrio, knocking him back against the wall, then slammed into one of the crossbowmen. They staggering, tangled, only for the guard to be taken down with some sort of wrestling move and his attacker to end up with a stiletto jambed through his ear a moment later as another crossbowman stepped-or at least, that was how her mind tried to make sense of the chaos of struggling shapes.

Just as suddenly, Asyrio was charging with his men coming straight after him, the remaining attackers frantically scrambling back, parrying furiously before they outright turned to run… only for more lanterns to appear behind them, silhouetting broad tower shields and broad-bladed Myrish spears wielded overarm.

It wasn't a fight from then on. It was butchery. The last two men tried to surrender, only for one to get a spear through the throat before Asyrio grabbed the second. She could hear bellowed orders and Asyrio's yelling "Who sent you!" over and over.

She turned back to Tommen's door, pounding on it. "The assassin's are dead! It's safe to come out!"

For a long while, the door didn't open. Her heart was pounding in her chest. One of the guards suggested he could get an axe to break down the door, but she ignored him.

They were most likely alive, she knew… but that was no comfort for the part of her was whispering of the attack just being a distraction for a dagger-man to cut their throats. Finally, someone unlatched the door and pulled it open from the inside.

Myrcella stood in the doorway, Tommen behind her. "I heard the fighting and locked Tommen in here. Then we hid on the balcony."

Genna dropped down to her knees and hugged her tight. "Clever girl…"

She couldn't do it. She couldn't put Myrcella through what she'd been through, only worse. But it was too dangerous to stay here. Myrcella and Tommen had nearly been killed. Nelyn could have lost men, and he would use that as leverage. Someone would make another attempt, sooner or later...

She supposed they would have to take their chances with Aegon.

 

[Balaur]

Stannis sat the Iron Throne like a vulture perched atop a pile of carrion, glowering at those assembled-nobles, knights, merchants, and curious servants and soldiers from the Red Keep. He'd once again decided to arrive early, in the finest martial tradition of hurry up and wait.

Herself, Davos, Sace, Connor, Morgan and the other defence witnesses were on one side of the throne room, with Renly, Margaery, Guncer Sunglass, Gared and a horde of courtiers, servants, guards and septons behind them. The gathering crowd filled the rest of the hall. He'd kept the area directly in front of the throne clear. That was where the witnesses would speak.

Selyse had been put at the base of the throne, her hair covered by a coif and the skin above her lip scraped red. Two kingsguard knights and a dozen Goldcloak spearmen stood behind her. The wound she'd taken had concussed her and gashed her scalp open, but it hadn't done her any long term harm.

Hopefully this time she would avoid provoking the mob.

If she tries to get herself killed again, I'm not going to save her.

Christ-Horus knew she'd already had to do it twice.

Finally, Stannis cleared his throat. "Selyse Baratheon, you stand here accused of ordering the murder of His Holiness the High Septon and two other Septons, the wounding of the Lady Margaery Tyrell and Captain-General Tane Bayder, and the attempted murder of Lord Renly Baratheon, Hand of the King and Lord of Storm's End. How do you plead?"

"Innocent, your grace." Selyse said, looking her husband dead in the eyes.

"The persecution shall make their case." Stannis said. "Renly, come forwards, if you will."

"Oh, of course." Renly's case was brutal and efficient. The confession was read out, Renly recounted what he had seen in the attack. Margaery explained how she knew Selyse hated her. She didn't give her opinion on who had given out the orders.

Avoiding either lying, or going against her husband. Sensible.

A dozen courtiers came forwards one by one, all painting a picture of Selyse as a fanatic who believed that the Red God would protect her from the consequences of her actions, that Margaery, Renly and the Faith plotted against her, and who had become less and less stable since coming to court.

Selyse remained silent, stone faced.

Gared said that he'd been close to getting an even more detailed confession out of Bill when he'd killed himself. He didn't mention Sallereon's confession. He had to know that she'd rip any confession from him apart. The letter was only briefly raised, but Renly confessed it seemed almost too much to believe. "Now, this letter could have planted to undermine this case, that is true. Gared has already told me of his suspicions. But if it true, then it is the most damning evidence yet." He knows.

Then Renly described Imry's coup. "Do you think that the actions of an innocent man? His men tried to storm the rookery of the Red Keep, most like trying to warn their co-conspirators what had happened. If Selyse was innocent, they would know they had nothing to fear and would await justice. As you can see, your grace, I believe that in all likelihood that Selyse Baratheon is guilty of everything she has been charged with and more, and that worse, at least some of her kin are guilty also."

He returned to his place at the side, a satisfied look on his face.

"Now, what witnesses do you have to plead your innocence?" Stannis asked Selyse.

She turned to them. "The lady Tane Bayder."

For fucks sake, Captain-General. She was a bastard. She hadn't inherited any worthwhile titles from her father, and her mother was a kept woman from the lower gentry. She had no titles but what she'd earned with her pole-axe to speak of.

She stepped forwards, rehearsing the arguments in her head.

"Selyse Baratheon bore Margaery Tyrell ill-will, but I do not believe she murdered the High Septon."

She hammered away on the points she was making, calling up other witnesses. Margaery came forwards and agreed that Selyse considered her a spy. Bill of the Storm's End guard corroborated that he'd scarcely ever seen Bill the assassin go to the nightfires. Davos agreed that there was no plausible agent of Selyse's in the free cities. She pointed out the leaps of logic in Selye's plan, and asked why she would drag in the Ironborn. Sace told the court how she'd shot the last assassin, and said that only some of the assassins where Rhllorites.

She pointed out how poorly Selyse had defended herself; surely if she had carefully planned assassination and rebellion, she would have a defence ready rather than stumbling about provoking mobs? There was nervous laughter when she recounted the tale of Lord Roxton and how he'd been tortured into confessing to causing the doom of Valyria.

She explained how Selyse had to be both an idiot to openly tell the assassin to kill Margaery and rather subtle to slip someone past Davos to hire them. Why the fuck did she leave incriminating letters lying around rather than burning them the second she couldn't send them immedietely? Bill was not at the nightfires enough for his fellow guardsmen to notice. She hated Margaery, but the attack on her was opportunistic, while the attack on the High Septon, which was properly planned, had no motive. The assassin's testimony was unreliable; certainly, Sallereon's was. He would confess to anything.

Then she brought Imry Florent forwards to explain why he had tried to seize the tower. "I feared a coup, that the Queen would be killed and Stannis deceived as to the circumstances. I wanted to get ravens out explaining what had happened to Stannis. I tried to win over Tane thinking she would be on the side of justice, but she ordered me arrested."

"There was no need for that." Davos said, his voice quiet. "I was composing a full account of events the moment the coup began."

"If you believed your cousin was being arrested on false charges, could be executed, and that your life was in danger, would you not do the same?" Tane asked.

There was a murmur of agreement amongst the Queen's Men and Kingsmen in the room. Tane didn't have much of an eye for crowds, besides when they were trying to kill her, but some of the Tyrell bannermen were talking amongst themselves already, looks of concern on their faces.

Then came the killing blows.

"It is our opinion that not only is Her Grace innocent of these charges, but that some of the evidence against her was falsified. Varys had control of much of the jail staff, and Petyr Baelish backs the pretenders and may still have agents in the city. They have caught us all in a web of intrigue." Tane said.

Don't accuse Renly directly of treason. That was what Davos had said. Leave him an out, a way to admit he'd made a mistake without admitting to framing the queen. If she moved against him directly the risk of civil war was too high.

Davos came forwards. "This letter claims to show that Selyse was conspiring with the Ironborn to attack Westeros just as she killed Renly and the High Septon and cast the realm into chaos. A terrible attack on the queen, if true."

One of his men, a scruffy Essosi in an ill-fitting blue doublet at his side, came up.He was holding a sheaf of documents.

"This is the forger Baelyr, reformed. He is one of no less than four such forgers, or customs men used to looking for forgeries, that I have shown this letter to, along with all the writings by Selyse, her maester, her family and her household I could find. It is not the writing of a highborn lady or of a formally trained maester, but rather that of a corrupt clerk trying to imitate the same. He says the handwriting resembles most closely, of the samples I showed him, that of the torturer Gared. Indeed, this letter was found only after the coup. Slow for it to be found by searching, but quick enough to be forged and planted. This, I believe, was planted by the enemies of the realm to make the situation worse."

Then came her own testimony, about how she'd interrogated Sallereon, and every threat had him taking his story in stranger and stranger directions. "All I had to do was wave a knife around and he'd confess that Varys was a Manderly in disguise!"

There was nervous laughter from the hall.

Then she explained how Bill had died and called forwards Connor, the company surgeon. She'd had him examine Bill's corpse.

"He was murdered." Connor said. "The fractured skull was too severe to have been self-inflicted, but was rather caused by a blunt instrument to the back of the head. There were also scrapes on his hands and torn out hair, consistent with a struggle… the killer beat his head in, then made it seem as if he'd committed suicide by slamming his head against the wall."

Morgan, her company witch, described the times she'd caught tongueless children creeping through the walls, though she left out how she'd tracked them down with her third eye. "Such agents could easily have planted evidence, or crept in to murder the assassin. Varys also had many agents amongst the jail staff.

Stannis glared down from his throne. "Renly, do you have any answer to this?"

"Captain-General Tane Bayder is an honest woman, and I believe her objections are sincere, though all of them have explanations. But I do not trust Davos's testimony. He is a criminal and a lowborn, still close to the Florents. Look at who he brought to testify today! A forger who boasted of his skill in the very throne room! And the murder of Bill? Well, I must thank Connor for his work in finding the cause of death, but it is just as credible that the agents of Selyse or someone else who was against her downfall, like, say, Aegon or Euron-had him killed to stop any further confessions. And Sallereon? He never knew much. Gared was far more careful to ensure he did not prejudice Bill's confession."

"Davos has been loyal to me for well over fifteen years." Stannis said. "I will not have you impugn his honour. Meanwhile, Gared either murdered a valuable prisoner, or let him be silenced."

"Loyalty? Or sticking to you while the going is good, then jumping ship for Selyse when he sees an opportunity?"

"What opportunity would I gain by supporting Selyse?" Davos asked. "I love her little. I only went where the truth led me."

"You are close to her daughter Shireen, no? My death, and the death of Margaery's child, would clear the line of succession for her."

There were yells of shock.

"Being fond of my king's daughter is hardly motive for murder!" Davos snapped, anger creeping into his voice.

"ENOUGH!" Stannis bellowed. "Ser Loras, Ser Balon, seize Gared and bring him to me. He will explain these going-ons in his dungeons himself."

"There's a problem with that." Morgan called. "He just left the hall through the servant's door. And he's now running away from it."

Oh, fuck.

"Morgan, Sace, with me." Tane snapped, turning back to the side door behind them. She'd let Varys and Baelish give her the slip. She wasn't inclined to let this bastard go.

 

[Redhead222]

that look to be going to a fairly neat ending of pin if on the jailer and now with him running it makes him looks extra guilty?

oh well that one more likely dead person waiting to happen.

 

[Balaur]

"Gared had to go and make water. I can assure you, he wouldn't flee." Renly said. Tane kept stomping towards the doorway, dodging past everyone in the way.

"He's making a break for it." Tane said.

"Tane is right. Davos, have the gates closed and the passageways watched." Stannis said.

"Oh, first you assume a criminal is trustworthy, now you assume that having a bladder is treason?" Renly asked.

"The evidence of foul play is clear enough, and I will know the who's and why's of it. Find him, and bring him back here." Stannis said. Tane didn't need the reminder.

She, Morgan and Sace ducked out the servant's side door, into a courtyard or garden of some sort wedged between the walls and the throne room.

"See him in your third eye?" Tane asked. Morgan could see every soul within a hundred or so meters.

"I can see him again. Barely. In that building over there." Morgan said. They took off at a jog towards the building Morgan had pointed out, Morgan mumbling behind her about why she chose today of all days to wear her dress.

Morgan pointed at a half-open door in the side of what looked like some sort of storehouse, up against the curtain wall.

Tane took off at a jog, her hand going to steady her rapier.

She pushed open the door. It was a smaller door built into what looked like a barn door, with a large stairwell going down into blackness inside. Some sort of winch lurked in the dark above, like a bat hanging from the ceiling. Morgan snatched up a pair of torches from a stack in the corner. "I have a lighter."

Tane nodded. Morgan lit hers with three quick clicks of her lighter, then lit Tane's torch off hers.

"Sace, hold this doorway and direct anyone who comes up behind us to follow us down here." Sace nodded, the cornet-no, lieutenant now-nodding and drawing her smallsword and a pistol she'd hidden under her dress. Tane wished she'd had the good sense to bring her pocket pistol.

She took point on the stairs with her rapier drawn, Morgan keeping her updated. "He's moving… right under the throne room now, actually."

"You couldn't see him before?"

"Too much stone in the way. Blocks the third eye. He's right under us now."

The staircase wound around itself three times before it reached the bottom. There was only one way from there, a long, broad corridor.

"I'm losing sight of him." Morgan said. "He should be straight under the throne room by now."

"Stun him." Tane said.

She heard distant, muffled swearing a moment later.

Witchcraft, Tane thought, near instantly. Morgan got the fucker with witchcraft. As long as Morgan was within a hundred or so meters and recognized his soul well enough not to have friendly fire, she could take him out from a safe distance, stabbing out with an extension of her soul into his. The soul affected the mind, and the mind affected the body.

"Dead souls up ahead. Very old ones. Too old to tell if they're human or not." Morgan said.

The passageway was yawning blackness. She drew her rapier and kept the torch ready. Her heart was hammering. Moving forwards into the pitch blackness outside the torchlight, with bloody tongueless children and Father knows what else crawling around in there, scared her far more than any amount of hand-to-hand fighting.

"Antiquarianism can come later." Tane said. Stay calm, stay focused, stay in control. The passageway, near solid black, expanding out into a vaster chamber. There were shapes, some surfaces smooth and other jagged, looming out of the darkness. The only light besides the torches came from a couple of slit windows and a single, dropped candle at the centre of the room. There was a flash of movement as Gared darted for the candle, then thought better of it and dropped back behind one of the shapes.

It had to be a dragon skull. It was as big as a whale's head, far vaster than anything natural she'd known to fly. The fangs seemed sharp as swords, even in the failing light.

She tensed, her heart hammering faster. Her eyes still hadn't adjusted, there was cover everywhere, and she had no armour. One mistake and she was dead, or they'd lose their best chance-

"Knock him down." Tane said, reverting to Brythwic. "Then I'll go around and take him. Stay close on my back."

There was no time for fear.

"Aye." She heard the faint sound of metal on wood as Morgan drew her backsword.

"Down!" Morgan yelled a few moments later, and Tane moved. She skirted around the dragon skull, going as wide as possible around the corner to avoid getting jumped, just in time to see Gared staggering to his feet.

"Halt!" Tane bellowed. "Hands above your head." The gaoler raised his hands.

"Take off your belt." Tane said.

His hands came down to his belt. She kept the tip of her rapier aimed dead at his centre of mass. He undid it and pulled it away from his body, looping it around before he-

Her torch hand jerked up just in time to block the belt as he whipped at her, part of it catching her on the head. The dull thwack of it stung to her bone as she lunged at him with her rapier. His hand slapped her rapier aside and grabbed it. A knife flashed in his other hand, and she reacted just in time to slam the lit torch into his knife hand. It batted his attack away, and she followed up with a jab to the face just as she tugged back on her rapier.

A strong enough grip on a sword, enough to stop it sliding across the hand, would stop it cutting. Having a lit torch shoved in ones face was not conducive to a strong grip. He let go of the weapon with a scream of pain, and stumbled back straight onto a dragon's lower jaw.

Tane stepped back out of striking distance and levelled her point on instinct.

Gared was twitching and struggling like a half-crushed fly, his belly arched forwards supported by the dragon's jaw. He made an effort to push himself up, but collapsed back down, whimpering in pain.

"Men coming. A dozen at least. Loras is with them." Morgan said, her voice as flat and calm as it always was. Tane had no idea how she did it.

There was the click of her working her lighter, then the rush of flames.

Morgan stepped over to the man, illuminating him for Tane. She saw the glint of his dagger on the ground, well away from his hands.

"Well, at least we know you're guilty." Tane said. "Trying to run like that."

There was only groaning. She heard the rattle of plate harness, and someone's voice, Loras she thought, yelling orders. She turned back to them, goldcloaks with crossbows and spears, Loras at their head.

"We got him. He's hurt badly. Someone send for Connor and a Maester!" Tane called. Her drill-ground yell echoed through the cellar, bouncing off the walls over and over. The Kingsguard knight-Loras she thought-had already strode over to them by the time the last of the echoes had faded. The rattle of his armour mixed with Gared's whimpering.

"What happened to him?" Loras asked, his voice accusatory as he pulled his helmet off.

"Tried to knife me. Didn't work. Took a fall. Wait for Connor to move him. Those teeth should be plugging up the wounds."

"You already killed me." Gared said said. "At least give me the mercy of a quick death."

She though of Sallereon's ruined joints, how the man would lose his livelihood. How his forgery had helped Renly set off riots that killed hundreds. How a dying confession could tell her the full extent of Renly's treason.

"Keep him there." Tane said

She untucked the hem of her shirt and wiped her rapier down, then sheathed it. Her heart was still hammering, coming down from the battle-rush.

Then Loras called for the goldcloaks to move him anyway.

Gared didn't scream as they pulled him off, but he did moan, low and awful. He tried to push himself up with his arms, but his legs were deadweight. They dragged him across to the walls, propping him up. Even in the torchlight she could see the red smear he left.

"Why'd you run?" Loras spat.

"I'm not talking." Gared said, voice slurred.

Loras drew his sword.

"Why'd you run? Why'd you abandon Renly-" Loras repeated. Tane came up behind him, hands brushing her hilts.

"Stannis would have had my head once he knew. At least this way I had a chance. Good job." He added, nodding to Tane.

"Renly would have defended you-"

"Him, defending his mercenary?" Gared laughed, his breath sputtering. He oddly calm for a dying man. "I think not. Not if it meant he could let me die and wash his hands of it."

"You dishonour Renly!" Loras snarled, then with less conviction "Liar!"

"I did what I was told. Nothing more, nothing less." Gared said. "Never did get that knighthood he promised me, though. So I suppose he betrayed me, in the end." He tried to laugh, only for it to come out as wet coughing.

"Liar" Loras said again, flatly. Then his sword scythed through Gared's head, ripping it apart in a spray of teeth and brains.

He turned to Tane, eyes burning with anger. "Renly knew nothing of what Gared did. That was a dying man's spite."

A dying man's spite, against the man who brought him to this point.

He stomped towards her, the bloody blade naked in his gauntleted hand. Tane tensed, and found herself unconsciously profiling her stance. Every inch of her screamed for her to go for her rapier and dagger, but she ignored it. Loras was as fast as her, stronger, fully armoured, and had a half—dozen men with spears backing him. Without Morgan, he could hack her to ribbons if he wanted. With her, Tane still didn't fancy her chances. Where's a jazerant or a brace of pistols when you need it?

"Do you understand?"

She kept her eyes on him, didn't back down or go for her weapons. It was like facing down a sicklehawk hunting. The slightest sign of weakness or aggression would see it strike, but stand your ground and you were fine.

"I understand that Renly knew nothing." Tane said. "I understand that if you murder me, my troops will be honour bound to avenge their captain. I understand that the Silvercloaks and Grenadiers outnumber your household men, and are better trained and equipped than the Goldcloaks. I understand that your sister and your lover both stand to loose their lives if this turns into a bloodbath because of you. And I understand that was a dying man's spite."

Loras turned away, yelling in anger. His sword sent sparks flying as it skipped off dragonbone like a hardened cuirass.

Tane wanted to do the same. Instead, she kept herself focused. Calmness, vigour and judgement. "Morgan, is Connor coming?"

"With twelve grenadiers."

"Good." She strode off to meet with them. They needed to tell Stannis what had happened as fast as possible. And Renly and Margaery. Play it right and hopefully, she could end this without a bloodbath.

 

[Redhead222]

the shadow plays in this are killing me.
very nicely done to be sure.

ps : fucking called it

 

[Balaur]

They brought up the body like undertakers, wrapped in a golden cloak with black blood oozing through. Loras came first, the goldcloaks Stannis had sent with him straight behind, the body slung between them and then the Grenadiers, muskets on their shoulders with bayonets fixed.

Good. Two men could keep a secret if one of them was dead.

"Most unfortunate." Renly said. "We shall never know his innocence or guilt now."

It had felt like an eternity since since Tane and Loras had left. The throne room had nearly descended into pandemonium. Rumours swept back and forth, like a jostled tub of water. Renly sent Gared away to pin the blame on him, he ran because he knows Stannis kills even those who do him good service, there's goldcloaks and Grenadiers gathering to slaughter all Stannis's enemies, Renly aims to kill Stannis and take his throne…

He kept his mouth shut. He needed to know what happened to Gared before he acted. He'd been impatient before, at the Ocean Road and the Inquiry, and it had cost him dearly. He had to play this carefully.

Tane strode across to Stannis, pacing at the base of the throne. Davos joined her.

"We should leave." Mace muttered next to him. "Stannis will not listen to reason on this. He will take any excuse to see this as ill-will."

"Look how running worked for Gared." Margaery said.

Oh, just shut up-

It didn't matter. Stannis had ordered everyone to remain in the throne room and barred the doors until the matter was resolved. It was probably already crawling with Grenadiers and Silvercloaks out there.

Loras marched over, his helmet off and his gauntlets speckled with blood.

"What happened?" Renly asked.

"Tane wounded Gared, then I caught up. He beschmirched your honour, so I killed him."

"What did he say?"

He could guess well enough what Loras meant by "besmirch his honour."

"He told me you did what he told him to, and that you promised him a knighthood."

"Bastard." Renly muttered. Both himself and Loras knew well enough what was going on, but he had to put just the right spin on it to the court. Gared going and blabbing would not help that. At all.

Stannis beckoned to him from his position across the hall. Renly marched across, using every inch of willpower he had to stop himself limping. He'd been standing for hours now, and his leg was aching with pain.

"What did the gaoler do?" Renly asked.

"He went to make water in the Red Keep's cellars, and there attempted to attack the Captain-General. She wounded him mortally, and Loras then slew him against her orders."

"He was uttering the vilest slanders against me." Renly said. "That whatever he did was at my order. I ordered him only to use any means necessary to secure a confession about who had hired the assassins, and then to gather any other evidence."

"And the knighthood?" Stannis asked.

"The killers maimed my wife, murdered the High Septon and nearly killed me. Any man who helped find the killers deserved a knighthood."

I'm sure you'll understand, raising the lowborn high. Better a gaoler than a smuggler.

Stannis took his arm and guided him to the base of the throne, with only the kingsguard within earshot. "If this was the only irregularity, I could assume that you were manipulated by our enemies or that Gared was a base opportunist looking to elevate himself at the expense of the Queen. Robert certainly was. If that Inquiry was the only irregularity, or seizing Selyse without orders, then I could assume mistakes were made in your rush for justice. But together…"

"You are accussing me of treason?" Renly asked in his most innocent voice.

"Mayhaps."

"Trusting a man who took my orders perhaps too literally is not treason."

"So you knew nothing of this? Incompetance is only a small improvement over malice. And that does not explain your own actions."

Stannis loomed over him. "First you deny anyone but your own men access to the prisoner. Then you ignore every sign that your man has falsely accused the queen, disobeying my commands and getting hundreds killed with your "inquiry'. And now you have attempted to cover for this traitor up to the very last moment, before your goodbrother kills the traitor when he accuses you of treason."

"I will confess to poor judgement." Renly said. "But you must understand the situation at the time. All of Selyse's past actions made her seem likely to harbour myself and Margaery ill-will, and I found Gared's evidence most persuasive. I was over-cautious. My own man had tried to kill me, and yours had let the Lannisters slip. But I deny any treason. Gared's cowardice betrayed his true loyalties. He tried to flee through the same route that Varys's agents were like to use. And I can assure you, I have no love for Varys or his creatures."

"And how do you intend to prove this?" Stannis asked.

Renly turned back to Stannis and strode into the middle of the crowd of courtiers. This had been the plan, one of them, all along, but confessing fault in front of the entire court… it stung his pride. It stung to the core. He could laugh at himself with the best of them, but begging forgiveness of Stannis in front of the entire court-

It had to be done.

He raised his voice, to a pitch where it would carry throughout the courtroom.

"It would seem some think me guilty of treason. There might very well be treason afoot, and I may have had some part in it, to my shame. Gared is accused of forging evidence and then fled, where he was slain after making the vilest accusations against me. I assure you I had no idea of what Gared was alleged to have done, though it may well be that trusting him was a mistake. As a show of goodwill, I will resign from the handship and retire from King's Landing, until Stannis determines whether or not Gared was guilty and whether to reinstate me. Indeed, I had already ordered the gathering of 5,000 Stormlands Horse, to be sent to the aid of Oldtown. Now, I will personally lead these knights against the enemies of the realm, and prove my loyalty to the realm, my family and to my King and Brother."

There were murmurs of shock amongst the courtiers. Oh, I am loyal to the realm and family. Stannis?

Stannis had burned what little loyalty Renly had once borne for him like kindling.

"In the meantime, I trust that Stannis will complete a thorough investigation of the great matter." Renly said. He turned to Queen Selyse, still standing surrounded by guards.

He walked over to her and took the knee in front of her.

"I am truly sorry for the harm I have caused you with my misjudgements. I am, and always have been, loyal to the realm and to your husband first. When I come to Oldtown's defence, I will pray for your wellbeing and forgiveness in the Starry Sept."

Selyse looked down on him, contempt dashed with a taste of fear. "You did not misjudge. You meant me harm all along. You, and all those who aided you."

She looked like she was gripping her own leash tight, holding herself back from going for his throat.

"You wound me." Renly said. "What I did, I did for the realm and with only the purest intentions."

He turned back to Stannis, his brother's eyes boring into his. "I will accept your resignation of the handship." Stannis said, his voice raised. He strode over to Renly. "Now, I would like you to swear me your allegiance. Now and forever."

Renly blinked. Stannis actually had him there. Profess his allegiance to Stannis then rebel and be known as an oathbreaker, or openly declare his disloyalty, here and now.

He ground his teeth. Words were wind, and oaths sworn under duress were no true oath. Once again, he took the knee and raised his voice.

"On my honour as a Baratheon, by the Old Gods and the New, I swear my loyalty to the one true king of Westeros. From this day to my dying day."

 

[Redhead222]

"one true king of Westeros. "

nice side stepping of what was asked there renly
next step claim stannis is not the true king of westeros and technically your not braking any oaths.