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Mixtape Ghost N(Collab with @bloonewb and @AtomicNut)
The Stepstones
Eventually, Visenya, William, and their compatriots made it back to the tavern where Viserys and his group had gathered, and Aemon was already leading his men to the tavern as well. Visenya and William stepped into the seedy, crowded winesink and Visenya immediately recognized Seran, who had been sent to watch for them. Visenya sat with Seran and said, "Where's my cousin? Bedding another wench is he?"
Seran stood still for a moment, his gaze not meeting that of Visenya. He quickly reached on the depths of his minds for a quick answer. "He is getting information, my lady." He added promptly. "In the back." He tried to reply curtly. It was not his call to either flat out lie or admit it, simply going with a vague answer should suffice to get the point accross. "We had to...resort to doing certain things." He also admitted, hoping they'd not be surprised by the gagged high ranking pirate.
William ignored the conversation, instead letting his eyes roam around the room. In every corner was a man and woman pair, unless there were multiple women . . . or men. None, however, was his brother.
"Oi!" he shouted, at a random knight with a girl on his lap. He looked up, glaring at whoever just interrupted his session of debauchery. "Have you seen a man, about yay high, dark skinned, as stupid as they come?" The knight shook his head, and went back to his whore. Around the room William went, asking about Arak, but nobody knew where he went, if they knew him at all.
Visenya frowned, leaning in to whisper, "Certain things? Gods, you didn't kill anyone did you?" She turned to William and urged him to rejoin them, "Will, what's the problem?
"Your cousin has somehow managed to lose a ten stone object following on his heels," William said. "Where is he? If he isn't found immediately . . . well, let's just say a sharp sword can be the difference between one heir and another." He felt like yelling, like breaking something, but he doubted he could get the area more damaged than it already is. He thought something struck him as odd. He barely knew his brother, and certainly didn't respect him very much. Where does this sudden sentimentality come from?
Visenya looked wildly around, not seeing Arak Snow, she cursed and called to Ned Stark. The young northman was flirting with a group of girls and sulked when he was called over. Visenya quickly explained the situation and he grew pensive, "Arak? My father's man. I can have Winter look for him." Visenya nodded, "Go, take Jaime, Petyr, and Tyrion with you. Go." Winter, worrying a large haunch of pork with his massive teeth was called to action with a whistle from Ned and the quartet of friends set out immediately to find the wayward Arak. Visenya turned to William, "You can go search with them if you want. I'll talk to Viserys. Seran, stay here and make sure nobody else goes missing."
Visenya ran up the stairs, and correctly guessing that Viserys would take the best room for himself, slammed her fist on the door until he answered, a pillow covering his unmentionables as he snarled, "What is it S-, oh Visenya. How did your mission go?"
"Better than yours", the woman scowled, "We have a man missing. Brandon's guardsman." Viserys frowned, trying to remember, "Oh him. He didn't want to come to the brothel, I told him he could sally forth on his own. He's probably in the market or somesuch."
Visenya glared, "In this port? He's an obvious mainlander. He's as likely to get a knife in the ribs as he will a smile. I sent some men to find him. But that's not all." Visenya quickly ran over the meeting with the Big Cap and the boon she required of them. Viserys, by this time, had already closed the door and draped a robe around himself while his bedmate once again covered under the blankets. Viserys then filled Visenya in on what happened on his end, including Seran's aborted seduction of Goldbeard. Viserys kicked over a lump covered in a canvas sack that turned out to be the pirate.
Visenya rubbed her forehead in disgust. Then she said, "Dammit. Get dressed Viserys. Pay the woman, and slip the inn keep some coin. We need to sneak Goldbeard out of a backdoor and to the ship. After that we wait for Aemon." She turned to the other woman, "Sweetling, please tell your friend Seran, he's to wheel our friend Goldbeard back to the ship. I saw a nice potato cart he can use." Viserys snickered and went to bribe the requisite people.
William weighed up the options. To go with a filthy wolf, his pet Stark, an old man with a false hand, and more damn Lannisters, on the off chance of finding someone he doesn't like very much, or to stay here with the whores? It was an easy one indeed.
"Feel free to lose yourselves as well," he growled storming outside and immediately beginning to follow the roads. For all the tendencies of Arak's steel boots to clang on the stone, there was little trace of where his little brother went.
Ned was uneasy working with William, but he saw little point in dwelling on it. Like it or not he was an ally. The group of them scoured the areas near the docks, asking around for Arak, Winter trying to sniff out the man's trail. Eventually Ned threatened a pickpocket with his wolf to reveal that Arak had been seen being dragged off by several of the Maiden's Men.
Ned turned to William, "Your brother's been kidnapped. We need to rendezvous with the others and come up with a plan." Ned turned to lead them back to the tavern with the news.
"I heard him just fine," William said, his hand turning into a fist. This Stark, like all the Starks, has the arrogance of a Westerman! It took all of his little reserve of self control not to beat him into the dirt. He waited until the rest of the group was gone, and looked out into the sea. Why had he chosen to come to this muddy waste of the gods' land? Whose cruel hand was it that a chance encounter would lead him to long lost relatives? Some things even a Bolton cannot control. He turned and went sullenly back with the crowd.
Seran eyed the whole scene with a fastidious look that was evident after Visenya was left. He clenched his teeth and muttered in an audible voice. "Oh glorious Stepstones, I would rather drink rat feces than come back here, but there's no way to say no to the throne." He added, requesting a mug of poor wine. He really needed a drink to stand all of these developments.
Soon, Seran's friend Lira came and whispered in his ear, telling him how he had to wheel the unconcious Goldbeard in a potato cart back to the ship.
Seran just sighed, and finished his mug. He shrugged. At the very least it was an ironic punishment. So he did obey,albeit grumbling somehow that despite being an old man, he weighed quite a lot. He wondered if he had hidden actual gold in his beard.
Eventually Aemon, Ellion, Taria, and the others strolled into the tavern. Extracting what information and aid they could from Lord Kurzon. Visenya and Viserys had paid a wench to direct Aemon up to Viserys' room. There, the three conferred on everything that happened. Aemon had learned of Big Cap and her ties to the Scorpions, which they all already knew, but he also received intelligence of the Scorpions hiring mass amounts of men and calling in Corsairs from the Basilisk's Isle and if the rumors were true, support from Lord Pyke the Bastard of the Crow's Eye, in to make a surprise assault on Torturer's Deep while the Velaryon and Royal Fleets were invading the other isles. The supposed date of this attack and its specific details were unknown however.
Of the Scorpion's secret hideaway, they learned little and less, only that after the battle, the Pirate Lords were to meet somewhere in a series of caves on the north side of Bloodstone, where Kurzon delivered supplies to the rebels in secret. Likely, Goldbeard or the Big Cap may have known more. It was unlikely that Goldbeard would reveal much, even under interrogation, so Big Cap needed to be placated.
Visenya, Viserys, and Aemon conferred, formulating a plan. Aemon, Viserys, and company would return to the ship while Visenya and William would stage a false attack on the ship. They'd make it look good for onlookers, beating each other with cudgels and fists, before Visenya took somebody back for Big Cap. Now all they needed was somebody willing to play the part of prisoner.
"I'll do it." Seran faced forward. "I have to take my responsabilities for my failure." He added. Well, it was unlikely the lordlings would ever volunteer to do that. But someone had to. And besides, in the success of operation lied his key to make Lysara happy.
Visenya nodded, "Very well. We'll need to make it look good, so we need to rough you up a bit. But we won't scar your good looks for life. And once we get there, we can ingratiate ourselves to Big Cap, then our Captain Draxos can show up with the cavalry to rescue you and Arak. Once Big Cap trusts us, we can use her to make an introduction to a bigger fish in their ocean. We can ingratiate ourselves to them, get rid of her, and then we see about finding where the Scorpion is hiding and when this attack is supposed to happen. Thoughts?"
"hm, actually this might sound odd. But could I request to bind my feet and hands with a tight cloth?" Seran chimed in. "It's something I learned from a pitfighter. How to turn your limbs into proper weapons."
William felt it necessary to get one last thing in with the decoy victim. He softly tapped him on the shoulder, and said something in a low voice. "Watch out for one fellow. About yay high, dark of skin, so bulky you couldn't miss him. If he comes back and I find one scratch, it's on you."
"Why should I care? It's your brother and your problem, m'lord." Seran just sighed as his glare turned towards the lordling. Title or not, some things had to be said."The mission is paramount."
Instead of arguing, like he would and perhaps should, he instead went for the dragons in his pockets. One, two, and the third in his sleeve clinked out slowly on the table.
"You have another mission now," he said, and stood up.
"Hey." Seran added, one last time, looking at the coins."You're missing your golden dragons." He urged, resisting the temptation to go after the easy cash.
Visenya cut in, "We're rescuing Arak, no question. He's one of ours and we won't leave him. Seran, keep an eye out for him and do everything you can to keep him safe. Do this mission well and there's a knighthood for you when we get back to Court."
Seran scratched the back of the head. "As you command, m'lady. But I just didn't want to bank on someone's desperation for a brother lost in the battlefield. I lost mine that way. Lord Bolton is clearly pained." He shrugged, a frown sulking as he kinda lamented the three dragons fly by.
Aemon nodded, "We all have our jobs. Visenya, Will, you strike when the moon is high. I want no deaths. Make it look good, but absolutely no deaths. Alright, let's go." Aemon led most of the crew away, back to the ship, while Visenya, William, and a few others remained behind to prepare for the assault.
Visenya turned to lay a hand on William's shoulder, "It'll be ok Will, we'll get your brother back and we'll make that bitch pay. Get some rest, we have to move soon."
King's Landing
Grand Maester Samwell had saved Lysara's life, stopping the bleeding and knitting the wound closed, disinfecting it and giving her milk of the poppy to ease the pain and put her to sleep for the time being. She had been placed in a tower cell with barred windows that offered a view of the rest of the keep and the city, but with fine furniture and food waiting for her once she woke. Queen Daenerys Targaryen and Lady Arya Stark sat on a couch near her bedside, Princess Baella holding her friend's hand. The outburst had come as a complete shock to the young lady and all manner of rumors were now circulating through the keep, though the Crown had offered no official word yet.
The breath heavy, Lysara opened her eyes, focusing on the unfamiliar ceiling. Her hand spasmed as movement came back to her. She was bedridden. But not dead. Her sight, before moving her neck went in all sorts of directions. There were some figures. Valyrian features were present in some of them, as well as some sort of grid inbetween.
Bars. She was imprisioned.
"What shall i do, Doloran." She lamented. "I failed you, and i failed to take out my own life." She muttered, still half delirious because of the ordeal. "How can I meet you in the aft-"
She coughed, the throat strained. Whoever had done this...mend, had been clearly skilled, or else she had would never recovered her voice. "Who...is there?"
Baela stroked Lysara's forehead, feeling to see if she had a fever and parting a wayward strand of hair away, "It's me Lysara, Baela. Along with mother and Aunt Arya. Sam saved your life and you were brought here. I was terribly worried for you. I saw what happened and-"
Queen Daenerys raised a hand, "That's enough for the moment Baela, please wait outside. Your Aunt and I have much to discuss with Lysara." Baela opened her mouth to protest and Arya said, "There's nothing to worry about Baela, we just need to talk to her. Please." Baela closed her mouth and exited, the door closed by Ser Wex as she left. At a nod from Daenerys, Ser Wex left as well.
The Queen regarded the prone woman for a bit as a nurse let her drink some water before she too withdrew. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence the Queen said, "I saw you raise a hand against my son. You've been running around, playing some game. Explain yourself."
"The reason of such benevolence towards a crook."Lysara added. "Very well. I shall explain. Where to begin? Some time ago, us two were three. And we obtained a dragon egg with our toils, sweat and some stroke of luck." Lysara went in a daze. "And...he died. Doloran, my middle brother. He couldn't use his legs since birth, but he clung to that egg, begging me to realize the legend... the same way..." She paused, clearing her throat. "...her Grace did."
"Have you ever been possessed by the last dying wish of a man? Because that's what happened." Lysara. "I thought I could have a chance. I tried my best. Then I ruined everything." She spat. "Because of that old bastard of my father. He couldn't take my maidenhood as a kid, but he left some scars. Of the kind that don't heal." Lysara added in her tirade. "I didn't mean to raise a weapon...but sometimes, when I am touched without permission...that happens."
Daenerys exchanged a look with Arya. She nodded and Daenerys said, "So I know you to not be a liar at least. Indeed, your story mirrors my own in some ways. And I can understand why you might have such a reaction. Demons of the mind are hard to banish. I won't have you put to death, no worries on that count. You've punished yourself already. Baela insists she wants you to remain in her service, and I shall grant it, but you must keep in mind that you will be watched closely from now on. You will be allowed no weapons either. And there will be armed guards near my daughter and you at all times. Slip again and you won't get a third chance."
"As for the egg... the simplest thing I could do is to get rid of you, your brother when he comes back and take it for myself. I can't allow any other family untied to my own to have a dragon. But I won't do that, because I think you may be of use. You have potential as an agent. You just need some further... refinement. Your brother may prove himself overseas, and you can prove yourself here. I want you to serve as one of my sister-in-law's agents. Help her keep an eye on things, look for potential plotters and traitors. If you and your brother serve well, you may have my trust again. And perhaps even a husband. Daemon Sand is the best for now. But I know Rhaegar is fond of you. Realistically, I can't allow him to marry so below his station. But you won't do wrong to be a paramour either. In any case, those are questions for the future. That is, if you accept my very generous offer. Will you serve?"
Lysara paused in her bed, thinking. "You are ridiculous, your grace. Truly ridiculous. You are offering veiled threats and a chance of redemption to someone you had to save from taking her own life. If I don't find worth in my own life... what power do you hold over me, anymore?" Lysara added, a coarse laugh. "And don't even try going after brother... he is different. He has only been in this with me, because of me. He will never appear in Westeros should I die." Her voice was a whisper. "Or he will charge against your entire Knightsguard. He is also that foolish."
Her blue eyes now stood,staring at them both. A long silence ... "But if you truly wish me for my utmost loyalty...you only need to do one thing. Titles? Princes? I do not care about that, your grace. Free me from the guilt of losing a brother over a dream. Hatch that egg and let me see the dragon Doloran protected. That would be the only way I will consent to keep on living."
Daenerys traded gazes with the young lady, measuring her up. After a moment, a ghost of a smile appeared on her face, "Very well. My grandchildren's eggs will likely hatch soon. I expect to have a ceremony within a fortnight. Perhaps your egg can be coaxed to life. The dragon will be presented to court if succesful and will be raised alongside the new hatchlings. Perhaps one day it will have a rider. Perhaps even you, if you are lucky and loyal enough. Does that satisfy you?"
"Truly you're the Queen Mother." Lysara added, as she forced herself to stand up, still groggy, and then fall to her knees in a reverence. <"Great Mother"> She said in Valyrian, like many in Essos had done before her. "Make use of me in any way you see fit, for I gave up my life and you gave me another."
Daenerys nodded, "Rise. You can return to your quarters in the Holdfast as soon as you're strong enough. I think you have great potential Lysara, do not disappoint me." She left and Arya turned to Lysara, "We'll start working as soon as you've recovered. I'll have a sensible cover story spread out." She placed a silk cloth on the table, "For your neck, to cover the scar. You must look the part of a lady after all." Arya left and Lysara was alone now.
Lysara weighed in the cloth, as she stood up, and without a second sigh, she begun to walk, at first with an unsteady gait, but soon finding strength to stand up. "Hm...so this is how Seran feels after a battle with the Many Faced God." She added, struggling to walk and keep steady, but shouldering on regardless. Even if she looked the part of the ethereal beauty, her will was nothing but ethereal. "Baela must be worried sick." She added, walking towards the door.
Her eyes wandered over to the nearby Maester, as she leaned towards the man, and planted a kiss in his cheek. "For your services, Maester." Samwell blushed and simply smiled nervously in acknowledgement. Baela embraced Lysara and held her arm, escorting her back to the holdfast, the implacable Ser Wex and several men following behind. Baela was still Lysara's friend, but there was a tense air between them now that wasn't there before and which it would take a lot of effort to alleviate.
"So, you came after me after what happened, my lady. No wonder you're your mother's daughter. Others would've just turned the other way." Lysara said. "I won't forget this." whispering into her ear. "Also I'm sorry. I should have never got you dragged into all this. You're a nice kid, my lady."
Baela smiled a shade, "It was the right thing to do Lysara. I couldn't leave a friend in need." She turned to her, "Everyone deserves a second chance. I know you didn't mean to hurt Jaehaerys, but we need to be careful now. We'll be watched constantly. Perhaps you should apologize to him when you are more recovered."
"I will apologize to him next time. " Lysara added, a thin genuine smile appearing in her face. "I feel...glad to be alive in a long time. Funnily enough." She added, a sincere giggle following, as if time had turned itself back and she was still ten. The two friends walked off to an uncertain future, hope and foreboding in equal measure.
"Interesting," Cathay muttered. "The Stepstones, you say?" The servant nodded.
"Aye. Heard it from His Grace's own mouth I did. It was over dinner, when he's had a few and his tongue gets loose," the servant said, grinning at her knowledge.
"Musn't let anyone know," Cathay whispered, dropping a silver into her plotter's hand. She skipped off to finish an errand for the king. Cathay sighed. Some people might have to be cut loose . . . permanently. However, Jon, or worse still, Arya, might be getting suspicious of the amount of servants who have disappeared lately. This could wait. She made up her mind, and thought to herself as she went over to the throne room. His Grace is currently no doubt making decrees at the moment, and the court of the judge always made for a good story. However, she needed friends in the Stepstones. This shouldn't be too hard. She took a detour and stopped in front of a servant's room. This was one of her most important centers of power, because it held the key to her entire secret network. She opened the door and smiled, looking through the bars of the birdcage. Within held a few small pidgeons, one of which she took out. She wrote a quick note, and tied it to the bird's leg, then let it out through the window. Soon, one of her friends in Dorne would take it, and be in the Stepstones within a week.
Jon sat on the Iron Throne, his crown of black steel shaped into knives giving him an even more somber, and grim visage. With his propensity for black leather clothing and grey cloaks, he cut a somewhat frightening figure. He sat the throne well, his back straight and his hands steepled in attention as matters were brought to his attention. Several minor disputes and requests from the nobles had been settled and now the smallfolk brought their issues to him.
One complaint came from a collection of farmers, all of whom had been losing livestock to the large amount of dragons that had been in the capitol during the festivities and fed on the animals. Jon had compensated them thricefold for their losses, before moving through a large series of other mundane matters. After a few hours, the process became more and more tedious but Jon bore it in silence. He was a king, he owed it to his people.
The last petitioner came to the throne. The supplicant was a woman, with the look of a septa. She was slim, of an age with Jaehaerys, and beautiful in a classic way. She bowed to Jon who said, "Septa, what brings you to my attention today?"
The woman rose and said, "If it pleases your grace, my name is Jonquil. I am of House Celtigar, but I was only the second cousin of the lord and there was no place for me. So I joined the service of the Faith at the Grand Sept. I was happy there, serving the gods, but to my great shame I have dishonored them."
Jon frowned. Indeed the girl had Valyrian looks though somewhat muddled. Her hair was more golden than silver, but her eyes were violet, "How did you do so septa?"
Jonquil looked to the floor, swallowing nervously, "Please do not take my words as a slight against your family your grace. But I am carrying your grandchild within me."
That attracted the attention of the court. There was a great chorus of speculation or indignation, many jeering at the septa and naming her a liar or a whore. The Celtigars in particular were a mix of mortification and even some satisfaction. The Targaryens had never interbred with them before.
Jon, leaned forward as the herald shouted for quiet, "Septa, this is a grand claim. Do you know the penalty if this is proven to be false?" Slander to the throne was punishable by any number of unpleasant things but Jonquil, tears in her eyes, held his gaze, "I understand your grace. I already confessed my sin to the High Septon. I needed to bare my soul before the court, and receive my penance."
Jon rubbed his forehead in weariness, "I suppose this was the work of the Prince of Summerhall? My son Viserys has a... reputation." Indeed, a few highborn bastards of the Prince had already been acknowledged and the number of baseborn dragonseeds that the Prince was rumored to be the sire of ranged anywhere from a dozen to a few score, all of them at court either at Summerhall, Dragonstone, or the Red Keep.
Jonquil blushed, "Your Grace, the father is Prince Aemon." Jon stared in disbelief. The rest of the court did too. Prince Aemon? The honorable, virtous, noble Prince Aemon? Unbelievable. Unthinkable. And with his wife already pregnant? Inconceivable. Or was it?
Jon recovered quickly, "My lords, my ladies. Clear the gallery. I needs must speak to the Septa in private so that I may ascertain the truth of this matter. Judgement is finished for the day. Captain, please have the Septa placed in a chambers suited to her station. I must retire for a brief moment. I'll speak with you in a few hours, Septa."
The lords and the ladies were ushered out of the gallery, all the lordlings and knights furiously gossiping as Jon descended the steps and retreated to the doors behind the throne. Jon thought about the accusation. His son was young. And had known Jonquil when both were children.
Doubtless, she had been at court at Dragonstone at least a few times when Aemon had become Prince of Dragonstone. But siring a bastard? He did not know if Aemon was capable of that. He had never known Aemon to be irresponsible in such a way. But he couldn't put it entirely out of mind either. No highborn lady, much less a servant of the Faith would have been willing to tarnish her reputation in front of the court unless she was absolutely sure of it. Jon had to get to the bottom of this.
This would be a mess. Julianna would bear the first Prince or Princess in a matter of months. Aemon would be king someday. A bastard complicated matters to put it lightly. Jon reached his office and put the crown on a pedastal, dismissing his pages and squires and pouring himself a large glass of wine as he mulled over what could be done.
Cathay watched quietly, occasionally writing notes down on her already messy sheet. The last judgement was particularly interesting, and her mind was already working to turn the situation to her advantage. Instead of leaving, like she was told to, she instead waited till the crowd emptied out. The king sat on the throne, looking more tired than ever. Now was her chance. She stepped forward and curtsied.
"Your Grace," she said, standing before him from so many steps down. "Permit me to speak?"
Jon looked up, "Oh Cathay, hello. Why not? Speak your mind."
"If Your Grace permits, I do not believe the septa's story holds much credit," she began. "You know your son far better than to have doubts. He is married, and shall soon sire a child. However, this septa, if she even is a septa, wishes to complicate matters. Notice the Celtigars on the side, see how pleased they were with the turnout. I believe, without overspeculation, a plot is afoot. The Celtigars have the most to gain from such a situation, and they have enough wealth to bribe any septa to come up to the court and lie to Your Grace." She stared up at the old king, daring him to make a counterargument.
Jon was surprised by Cathay's directness but said, "Perhaps there is some plot. I have a vague memory of Jonquil. She is one of Lord Celtigar's endless relations. And whether or not she is truly a Septa, well I can go to the High Septon for that. I suppose it would be no large matter for Lord Celtigar to get one of his cousins pregnant in order to curry favor. A grandchild of mine with Celtigar blood? A measurable rise in the status of their House. And since Jonquil is already Valyrian, and I hardly look the part, if the child comes out black of hair, they can plead that the babe takes from me. And while Aemon is away, I cannot ask him the truth of this."
If this was one of Viserys' indiscretions, he could have acknowledged the bastard, had them raised in comfort, and paid them no further mind. But his heir? That made things much messier, Jon said, "There's simply no way to be sure. The Celtigars, or some other party could have plotted this or she could be genuine. And carrying my grand child. Aemon was away on Dragonstone for years don't forget, and any lady of House Celtigar would have had ample oppurtunities to pay him tribute at court. My son has become a man, and he has a man's tastes. I've never heard of any indiscretions on his part, but I can't be entirely sure either way. My options are limited until the baby is born and until he returns."
"Your Grace knows as well as I do that my words are of little value, coming from a small house, and should not be compared to Your Grace's wisdom," Cathay said again. She hated the humble game, but knew from experience it would be best if she played along. "But there is a way. Let me be your eye on the matter. I shall seek a confession from her. With your permission, I would investigate this matter in your name. I will, however, require access to dynastic records," She curtsied, and awaited his response.
Jon considered the woman for a moment, "I do need someone to investigate this. But I do need complete accountability. The records you seek are under the purview of the Office of Laws. Sansa and Arya will look into this for me. If you want to work under them, then you can, with their permission and oversight of course. You shall make no move without informing all three of us, and no drastic actions will be taken in case she does carry my grand child. Do this well however and you will be rewarded. Agreed?"
"You can trust me. My father, Lord Whitehoof, fought for you against the Raper of the North the the three hundred and third year Aegon's Conquest. We are as loyal to you as the kingsguard," Cathay said, turning and leaving. Now, she had much plotting to do.
The Stepstones
Eventually, Visenya, William, and their compatriots made it back to the tavern where Viserys and his group had gathered, and Aemon was already leading his men to the tavern as well. Visenya and William stepped into the seedy, crowded winesink and Visenya immediately recognized Seran, who had been sent to watch for them. Visenya sat with Seran and said, "Where's my cousin? Bedding another wench is he?"
Seran stood still for a moment, his gaze not meeting that of Visenya. He quickly reached on the depths of his minds for a quick answer. "He is getting information, my lady." He added promptly. "In the back." He tried to reply curtly. It was not his call to either flat out lie or admit it, simply going with a vague answer should suffice to get the point accross. "We had to...resort to doing certain things." He also admitted, hoping they'd not be surprised by the gagged high ranking pirate.
William ignored the conversation, instead letting his eyes roam around the room. In every corner was a man and woman pair, unless there were multiple women . . . or men. None, however, was his brother.
"Oi!" he shouted, at a random knight with a girl on his lap. He looked up, glaring at whoever just interrupted his session of debauchery. "Have you seen a man, about yay high, dark skinned, as stupid as they come?" The knight shook his head, and went back to his whore. Around the room William went, asking about Arak, but nobody knew where he went, if they knew him at all.
Visenya frowned, leaning in to whisper, "Certain things? Gods, you didn't kill anyone did you?" She turned to William and urged him to rejoin them, "Will, what's the problem?
"Your cousin has somehow managed to lose a ten stone object following on his heels," William said. "Where is he? If he isn't found immediately . . . well, let's just say a sharp sword can be the difference between one heir and another." He felt like yelling, like breaking something, but he doubted he could get the area more damaged than it already is. He thought something struck him as odd. He barely knew his brother, and certainly didn't respect him very much. Where does this sudden sentimentality come from?
Visenya looked wildly around, not seeing Arak Snow, she cursed and called to Ned Stark. The young northman was flirting with a group of girls and sulked when he was called over. Visenya quickly explained the situation and he grew pensive, "Arak? My father's man. I can have Winter look for him." Visenya nodded, "Go, take Jaime, Petyr, and Tyrion with you. Go." Winter, worrying a large haunch of pork with his massive teeth was called to action with a whistle from Ned and the quartet of friends set out immediately to find the wayward Arak. Visenya turned to William, "You can go search with them if you want. I'll talk to Viserys. Seran, stay here and make sure nobody else goes missing."
Visenya ran up the stairs, and correctly guessing that Viserys would take the best room for himself, slammed her fist on the door until he answered, a pillow covering his unmentionables as he snarled, "What is it S-, oh Visenya. How did your mission go?"
"Better than yours", the woman scowled, "We have a man missing. Brandon's guardsman." Viserys frowned, trying to remember, "Oh him. He didn't want to come to the brothel, I told him he could sally forth on his own. He's probably in the market or somesuch."
Visenya glared, "In this port? He's an obvious mainlander. He's as likely to get a knife in the ribs as he will a smile. I sent some men to find him. But that's not all." Visenya quickly ran over the meeting with the Big Cap and the boon she required of them. Viserys, by this time, had already closed the door and draped a robe around himself while his bedmate once again covered under the blankets. Viserys then filled Visenya in on what happened on his end, including Seran's aborted seduction of Goldbeard. Viserys kicked over a lump covered in a canvas sack that turned out to be the pirate.
Visenya rubbed her forehead in disgust. Then she said, "Dammit. Get dressed Viserys. Pay the woman, and slip the inn keep some coin. We need to sneak Goldbeard out of a backdoor and to the ship. After that we wait for Aemon." She turned to the other woman, "Sweetling, please tell your friend Seran, he's to wheel our friend Goldbeard back to the ship. I saw a nice potato cart he can use." Viserys snickered and went to bribe the requisite people.
William weighed up the options. To go with a filthy wolf, his pet Stark, an old man with a false hand, and more damn Lannisters, on the off chance of finding someone he doesn't like very much, or to stay here with the whores? It was an easy one indeed.
"Feel free to lose yourselves as well," he growled storming outside and immediately beginning to follow the roads. For all the tendencies of Arak's steel boots to clang on the stone, there was little trace of where his little brother went.
Ned was uneasy working with William, but he saw little point in dwelling on it. Like it or not he was an ally. The group of them scoured the areas near the docks, asking around for Arak, Winter trying to sniff out the man's trail. Eventually Ned threatened a pickpocket with his wolf to reveal that Arak had been seen being dragged off by several of the Maiden's Men.
Ned turned to William, "Your brother's been kidnapped. We need to rendezvous with the others and come up with a plan." Ned turned to lead them back to the tavern with the news.
"I heard him just fine," William said, his hand turning into a fist. This Stark, like all the Starks, has the arrogance of a Westerman! It took all of his little reserve of self control not to beat him into the dirt. He waited until the rest of the group was gone, and looked out into the sea. Why had he chosen to come to this muddy waste of the gods' land? Whose cruel hand was it that a chance encounter would lead him to long lost relatives? Some things even a Bolton cannot control. He turned and went sullenly back with the crowd.
Seran eyed the whole scene with a fastidious look that was evident after Visenya was left. He clenched his teeth and muttered in an audible voice. "Oh glorious Stepstones, I would rather drink rat feces than come back here, but there's no way to say no to the throne." He added, requesting a mug of poor wine. He really needed a drink to stand all of these developments.
Soon, Seran's friend Lira came and whispered in his ear, telling him how he had to wheel the unconcious Goldbeard in a potato cart back to the ship.
Seran just sighed, and finished his mug. He shrugged. At the very least it was an ironic punishment. So he did obey,albeit grumbling somehow that despite being an old man, he weighed quite a lot. He wondered if he had hidden actual gold in his beard.
Eventually Aemon, Ellion, Taria, and the others strolled into the tavern. Extracting what information and aid they could from Lord Kurzon. Visenya and Viserys had paid a wench to direct Aemon up to Viserys' room. There, the three conferred on everything that happened. Aemon had learned of Big Cap and her ties to the Scorpions, which they all already knew, but he also received intelligence of the Scorpions hiring mass amounts of men and calling in Corsairs from the Basilisk's Isle and if the rumors were true, support from Lord Pyke the Bastard of the Crow's Eye, in to make a surprise assault on Torturer's Deep while the Velaryon and Royal Fleets were invading the other isles. The supposed date of this attack and its specific details were unknown however.
Of the Scorpion's secret hideaway, they learned little and less, only that after the battle, the Pirate Lords were to meet somewhere in a series of caves on the north side of Bloodstone, where Kurzon delivered supplies to the rebels in secret. Likely, Goldbeard or the Big Cap may have known more. It was unlikely that Goldbeard would reveal much, even under interrogation, so Big Cap needed to be placated.
Visenya, Viserys, and Aemon conferred, formulating a plan. Aemon, Viserys, and company would return to the ship while Visenya and William would stage a false attack on the ship. They'd make it look good for onlookers, beating each other with cudgels and fists, before Visenya took somebody back for Big Cap. Now all they needed was somebody willing to play the part of prisoner.
"I'll do it." Seran faced forward. "I have to take my responsabilities for my failure." He added. Well, it was unlikely the lordlings would ever volunteer to do that. But someone had to. And besides, in the success of operation lied his key to make Lysara happy.
Visenya nodded, "Very well. We'll need to make it look good, so we need to rough you up a bit. But we won't scar your good looks for life. And once we get there, we can ingratiate ourselves to Big Cap, then our Captain Draxos can show up with the cavalry to rescue you and Arak. Once Big Cap trusts us, we can use her to make an introduction to a bigger fish in their ocean. We can ingratiate ourselves to them, get rid of her, and then we see about finding where the Scorpion is hiding and when this attack is supposed to happen. Thoughts?"
"hm, actually this might sound odd. But could I request to bind my feet and hands with a tight cloth?" Seran chimed in. "It's something I learned from a pitfighter. How to turn your limbs into proper weapons."
William felt it necessary to get one last thing in with the decoy victim. He softly tapped him on the shoulder, and said something in a low voice. "Watch out for one fellow. About yay high, dark of skin, so bulky you couldn't miss him. If he comes back and I find one scratch, it's on you."
"Why should I care? It's your brother and your problem, m'lord." Seran just sighed as his glare turned towards the lordling. Title or not, some things had to be said."The mission is paramount."
Instead of arguing, like he would and perhaps should, he instead went for the dragons in his pockets. One, two, and the third in his sleeve clinked out slowly on the table.
"You have another mission now," he said, and stood up.
"Hey." Seran added, one last time, looking at the coins."You're missing your golden dragons." He urged, resisting the temptation to go after the easy cash.
Visenya cut in, "We're rescuing Arak, no question. He's one of ours and we won't leave him. Seran, keep an eye out for him and do everything you can to keep him safe. Do this mission well and there's a knighthood for you when we get back to Court."
Seran scratched the back of the head. "As you command, m'lady. But I just didn't want to bank on someone's desperation for a brother lost in the battlefield. I lost mine that way. Lord Bolton is clearly pained." He shrugged, a frown sulking as he kinda lamented the three dragons fly by.
Aemon nodded, "We all have our jobs. Visenya, Will, you strike when the moon is high. I want no deaths. Make it look good, but absolutely no deaths. Alright, let's go." Aemon led most of the crew away, back to the ship, while Visenya, William, and a few others remained behind to prepare for the assault.
Visenya turned to lay a hand on William's shoulder, "It'll be ok Will, we'll get your brother back and we'll make that bitch pay. Get some rest, we have to move soon."
King's Landing
Grand Maester Samwell had saved Lysara's life, stopping the bleeding and knitting the wound closed, disinfecting it and giving her milk of the poppy to ease the pain and put her to sleep for the time being. She had been placed in a tower cell with barred windows that offered a view of the rest of the keep and the city, but with fine furniture and food waiting for her once she woke. Queen Daenerys Targaryen and Lady Arya Stark sat on a couch near her bedside, Princess Baella holding her friend's hand. The outburst had come as a complete shock to the young lady and all manner of rumors were now circulating through the keep, though the Crown had offered no official word yet.
The breath heavy, Lysara opened her eyes, focusing on the unfamiliar ceiling. Her hand spasmed as movement came back to her. She was bedridden. But not dead. Her sight, before moving her neck went in all sorts of directions. There were some figures. Valyrian features were present in some of them, as well as some sort of grid inbetween.
Bars. She was imprisioned.
"What shall i do, Doloran." She lamented. "I failed you, and i failed to take out my own life." She muttered, still half delirious because of the ordeal. "How can I meet you in the aft-"
She coughed, the throat strained. Whoever had done this...mend, had been clearly skilled, or else she had would never recovered her voice. "Who...is there?"
Baela stroked Lysara's forehead, feeling to see if she had a fever and parting a wayward strand of hair away, "It's me Lysara, Baela. Along with mother and Aunt Arya. Sam saved your life and you were brought here. I was terribly worried for you. I saw what happened and-"
Queen Daenerys raised a hand, "That's enough for the moment Baela, please wait outside. Your Aunt and I have much to discuss with Lysara." Baela opened her mouth to protest and Arya said, "There's nothing to worry about Baela, we just need to talk to her. Please." Baela closed her mouth and exited, the door closed by Ser Wex as she left. At a nod from Daenerys, Ser Wex left as well.
The Queen regarded the prone woman for a bit as a nurse let her drink some water before she too withdrew. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence the Queen said, "I saw you raise a hand against my son. You've been running around, playing some game. Explain yourself."
"The reason of such benevolence towards a crook."Lysara added. "Very well. I shall explain. Where to begin? Some time ago, us two were three. And we obtained a dragon egg with our toils, sweat and some stroke of luck." Lysara went in a daze. "And...he died. Doloran, my middle brother. He couldn't use his legs since birth, but he clung to that egg, begging me to realize the legend... the same way..." She paused, clearing her throat. "...her Grace did."
"Have you ever been possessed by the last dying wish of a man? Because that's what happened." Lysara. "I thought I could have a chance. I tried my best. Then I ruined everything." She spat. "Because of that old bastard of my father. He couldn't take my maidenhood as a kid, but he left some scars. Of the kind that don't heal." Lysara added in her tirade. "I didn't mean to raise a weapon...but sometimes, when I am touched without permission...that happens."
Daenerys exchanged a look with Arya. She nodded and Daenerys said, "So I know you to not be a liar at least. Indeed, your story mirrors my own in some ways. And I can understand why you might have such a reaction. Demons of the mind are hard to banish. I won't have you put to death, no worries on that count. You've punished yourself already. Baela insists she wants you to remain in her service, and I shall grant it, but you must keep in mind that you will be watched closely from now on. You will be allowed no weapons either. And there will be armed guards near my daughter and you at all times. Slip again and you won't get a third chance."
"As for the egg... the simplest thing I could do is to get rid of you, your brother when he comes back and take it for myself. I can't allow any other family untied to my own to have a dragon. But I won't do that, because I think you may be of use. You have potential as an agent. You just need some further... refinement. Your brother may prove himself overseas, and you can prove yourself here. I want you to serve as one of my sister-in-law's agents. Help her keep an eye on things, look for potential plotters and traitors. If you and your brother serve well, you may have my trust again. And perhaps even a husband. Daemon Sand is the best for now. But I know Rhaegar is fond of you. Realistically, I can't allow him to marry so below his station. But you won't do wrong to be a paramour either. In any case, those are questions for the future. That is, if you accept my very generous offer. Will you serve?"
Lysara paused in her bed, thinking. "You are ridiculous, your grace. Truly ridiculous. You are offering veiled threats and a chance of redemption to someone you had to save from taking her own life. If I don't find worth in my own life... what power do you hold over me, anymore?" Lysara added, a coarse laugh. "And don't even try going after brother... he is different. He has only been in this with me, because of me. He will never appear in Westeros should I die." Her voice was a whisper. "Or he will charge against your entire Knightsguard. He is also that foolish."
Her blue eyes now stood,staring at them both. A long silence ... "But if you truly wish me for my utmost loyalty...you only need to do one thing. Titles? Princes? I do not care about that, your grace. Free me from the guilt of losing a brother over a dream. Hatch that egg and let me see the dragon Doloran protected. That would be the only way I will consent to keep on living."
Daenerys traded gazes with the young lady, measuring her up. After a moment, a ghost of a smile appeared on her face, "Very well. My grandchildren's eggs will likely hatch soon. I expect to have a ceremony within a fortnight. Perhaps your egg can be coaxed to life. The dragon will be presented to court if succesful and will be raised alongside the new hatchlings. Perhaps one day it will have a rider. Perhaps even you, if you are lucky and loyal enough. Does that satisfy you?"
"Truly you're the Queen Mother." Lysara added, as she forced herself to stand up, still groggy, and then fall to her knees in a reverence. <"Great Mother"> She said in Valyrian, like many in Essos had done before her. "Make use of me in any way you see fit, for I gave up my life and you gave me another."
Daenerys nodded, "Rise. You can return to your quarters in the Holdfast as soon as you're strong enough. I think you have great potential Lysara, do not disappoint me." She left and Arya turned to Lysara, "We'll start working as soon as you've recovered. I'll have a sensible cover story spread out." She placed a silk cloth on the table, "For your neck, to cover the scar. You must look the part of a lady after all." Arya left and Lysara was alone now.
Lysara weighed in the cloth, as she stood up, and without a second sigh, she begun to walk, at first with an unsteady gait, but soon finding strength to stand up. "Hm...so this is how Seran feels after a battle with the Many Faced God." She added, struggling to walk and keep steady, but shouldering on regardless. Even if she looked the part of the ethereal beauty, her will was nothing but ethereal. "Baela must be worried sick." She added, walking towards the door.
Her eyes wandered over to the nearby Maester, as she leaned towards the man, and planted a kiss in his cheek. "For your services, Maester." Samwell blushed and simply smiled nervously in acknowledgement. Baela embraced Lysara and held her arm, escorting her back to the holdfast, the implacable Ser Wex and several men following behind. Baela was still Lysara's friend, but there was a tense air between them now that wasn't there before and which it would take a lot of effort to alleviate.
"So, you came after me after what happened, my lady. No wonder you're your mother's daughter. Others would've just turned the other way." Lysara said. "I won't forget this." whispering into her ear. "Also I'm sorry. I should have never got you dragged into all this. You're a nice kid, my lady."
Baela smiled a shade, "It was the right thing to do Lysara. I couldn't leave a friend in need." She turned to her, "Everyone deserves a second chance. I know you didn't mean to hurt Jaehaerys, but we need to be careful now. We'll be watched constantly. Perhaps you should apologize to him when you are more recovered."
"I will apologize to him next time. " Lysara added, a thin genuine smile appearing in her face. "I feel...glad to be alive in a long time. Funnily enough." She added, a sincere giggle following, as if time had turned itself back and she was still ten. The two friends walked off to an uncertain future, hope and foreboding in equal measure.
"Interesting," Cathay muttered. "The Stepstones, you say?" The servant nodded.
"Aye. Heard it from His Grace's own mouth I did. It was over dinner, when he's had a few and his tongue gets loose," the servant said, grinning at her knowledge.
"Musn't let anyone know," Cathay whispered, dropping a silver into her plotter's hand. She skipped off to finish an errand for the king. Cathay sighed. Some people might have to be cut loose . . . permanently. However, Jon, or worse still, Arya, might be getting suspicious of the amount of servants who have disappeared lately. This could wait. She made up her mind, and thought to herself as she went over to the throne room. His Grace is currently no doubt making decrees at the moment, and the court of the judge always made for a good story. However, she needed friends in the Stepstones. This shouldn't be too hard. She took a detour and stopped in front of a servant's room. This was one of her most important centers of power, because it held the key to her entire secret network. She opened the door and smiled, looking through the bars of the birdcage. Within held a few small pidgeons, one of which she took out. She wrote a quick note, and tied it to the bird's leg, then let it out through the window. Soon, one of her friends in Dorne would take it, and be in the Stepstones within a week.
Jon sat on the Iron Throne, his crown of black steel shaped into knives giving him an even more somber, and grim visage. With his propensity for black leather clothing and grey cloaks, he cut a somewhat frightening figure. He sat the throne well, his back straight and his hands steepled in attention as matters were brought to his attention. Several minor disputes and requests from the nobles had been settled and now the smallfolk brought their issues to him.
One complaint came from a collection of farmers, all of whom had been losing livestock to the large amount of dragons that had been in the capitol during the festivities and fed on the animals. Jon had compensated them thricefold for their losses, before moving through a large series of other mundane matters. After a few hours, the process became more and more tedious but Jon bore it in silence. He was a king, he owed it to his people.
The last petitioner came to the throne. The supplicant was a woman, with the look of a septa. She was slim, of an age with Jaehaerys, and beautiful in a classic way. She bowed to Jon who said, "Septa, what brings you to my attention today?"
The woman rose and said, "If it pleases your grace, my name is Jonquil. I am of House Celtigar, but I was only the second cousin of the lord and there was no place for me. So I joined the service of the Faith at the Grand Sept. I was happy there, serving the gods, but to my great shame I have dishonored them."
Jon frowned. Indeed the girl had Valyrian looks though somewhat muddled. Her hair was more golden than silver, but her eyes were violet, "How did you do so septa?"
Jonquil looked to the floor, swallowing nervously, "Please do not take my words as a slight against your family your grace. But I am carrying your grandchild within me."
That attracted the attention of the court. There was a great chorus of speculation or indignation, many jeering at the septa and naming her a liar or a whore. The Celtigars in particular were a mix of mortification and even some satisfaction. The Targaryens had never interbred with them before.
Jon, leaned forward as the herald shouted for quiet, "Septa, this is a grand claim. Do you know the penalty if this is proven to be false?" Slander to the throne was punishable by any number of unpleasant things but Jonquil, tears in her eyes, held his gaze, "I understand your grace. I already confessed my sin to the High Septon. I needed to bare my soul before the court, and receive my penance."
Jon rubbed his forehead in weariness, "I suppose this was the work of the Prince of Summerhall? My son Viserys has a... reputation." Indeed, a few highborn bastards of the Prince had already been acknowledged and the number of baseborn dragonseeds that the Prince was rumored to be the sire of ranged anywhere from a dozen to a few score, all of them at court either at Summerhall, Dragonstone, or the Red Keep.
Jonquil blushed, "Your Grace, the father is Prince Aemon." Jon stared in disbelief. The rest of the court did too. Prince Aemon? The honorable, virtous, noble Prince Aemon? Unbelievable. Unthinkable. And with his wife already pregnant? Inconceivable. Or was it?
Jon recovered quickly, "My lords, my ladies. Clear the gallery. I needs must speak to the Septa in private so that I may ascertain the truth of this matter. Judgement is finished for the day. Captain, please have the Septa placed in a chambers suited to her station. I must retire for a brief moment. I'll speak with you in a few hours, Septa."
The lords and the ladies were ushered out of the gallery, all the lordlings and knights furiously gossiping as Jon descended the steps and retreated to the doors behind the throne. Jon thought about the accusation. His son was young. And had known Jonquil when both were children.
Doubtless, she had been at court at Dragonstone at least a few times when Aemon had become Prince of Dragonstone. But siring a bastard? He did not know if Aemon was capable of that. He had never known Aemon to be irresponsible in such a way. But he couldn't put it entirely out of mind either. No highborn lady, much less a servant of the Faith would have been willing to tarnish her reputation in front of the court unless she was absolutely sure of it. Jon had to get to the bottom of this.
This would be a mess. Julianna would bear the first Prince or Princess in a matter of months. Aemon would be king someday. A bastard complicated matters to put it lightly. Jon reached his office and put the crown on a pedastal, dismissing his pages and squires and pouring himself a large glass of wine as he mulled over what could be done.
Cathay watched quietly, occasionally writing notes down on her already messy sheet. The last judgement was particularly interesting, and her mind was already working to turn the situation to her advantage. Instead of leaving, like she was told to, she instead waited till the crowd emptied out. The king sat on the throne, looking more tired than ever. Now was her chance. She stepped forward and curtsied.
"Your Grace," she said, standing before him from so many steps down. "Permit me to speak?"
Jon looked up, "Oh Cathay, hello. Why not? Speak your mind."
"If Your Grace permits, I do not believe the septa's story holds much credit," she began. "You know your son far better than to have doubts. He is married, and shall soon sire a child. However, this septa, if she even is a septa, wishes to complicate matters. Notice the Celtigars on the side, see how pleased they were with the turnout. I believe, without overspeculation, a plot is afoot. The Celtigars have the most to gain from such a situation, and they have enough wealth to bribe any septa to come up to the court and lie to Your Grace." She stared up at the old king, daring him to make a counterargument.
Jon was surprised by Cathay's directness but said, "Perhaps there is some plot. I have a vague memory of Jonquil. She is one of Lord Celtigar's endless relations. And whether or not she is truly a Septa, well I can go to the High Septon for that. I suppose it would be no large matter for Lord Celtigar to get one of his cousins pregnant in order to curry favor. A grandchild of mine with Celtigar blood? A measurable rise in the status of their House. And since Jonquil is already Valyrian, and I hardly look the part, if the child comes out black of hair, they can plead that the babe takes from me. And while Aemon is away, I cannot ask him the truth of this."
If this was one of Viserys' indiscretions, he could have acknowledged the bastard, had them raised in comfort, and paid them no further mind. But his heir? That made things much messier, Jon said, "There's simply no way to be sure. The Celtigars, or some other party could have plotted this or she could be genuine. And carrying my grand child. Aemon was away on Dragonstone for years don't forget, and any lady of House Celtigar would have had ample oppurtunities to pay him tribute at court. My son has become a man, and he has a man's tastes. I've never heard of any indiscretions on his part, but I can't be entirely sure either way. My options are limited until the baby is born and until he returns."
"Your Grace knows as well as I do that my words are of little value, coming from a small house, and should not be compared to Your Grace's wisdom," Cathay said again. She hated the humble game, but knew from experience it would be best if she played along. "But there is a way. Let me be your eye on the matter. I shall seek a confession from her. With your permission, I would investigate this matter in your name. I will, however, require access to dynastic records," She curtsied, and awaited his response.
Jon considered the woman for a moment, "I do need someone to investigate this. But I do need complete accountability. The records you seek are under the purview of the Office of Laws. Sansa and Arya will look into this for me. If you want to work under them, then you can, with their permission and oversight of course. You shall make no move without informing all three of us, and no drastic actions will be taken in case she does carry my grand child. Do this well however and you will be rewarded. Agreed?"
"You can trust me. My father, Lord Whitehoof, fought for you against the Raper of the North the the three hundred and third year Aegon's Conquest. We are as loyal to you as the kingsguard," Cathay said, turning and leaving. Now, she had much plotting to do.