Vale of Arryn ― Runestone...
Near the castle of Runestone, the ancestral seat of House Royce, a noble person donning bronze armor with black pebbles along her breastplate, rode out in the fields of the Vale before daybreak to embark on an early hunting trip. Lady Rhea Royce, the ruler of Runestone and estranged wife of Prince Daemon Targaryen, readied her bow while searching for deer. Ever since word arrived of her marriage being annulled, Rhea felt a sense of relief wash across her, finally freed from her unhappy marriage with Daemon, though some felt House Royce's honor had been slighted. Although she received an invitation to attend the Summer Festival in King's Landing, Rhea was one of the few who declined the offer.
"Good morning, Lady Rhea," arrived Ser Gerold. A fellow relative of House Royce, he was an older, stoic, and honorable man who wore armor like Rhea's.
"Cousin," Rhea acknowledged.
"What's today's quarry? Rabbit?"
"Deer."
"Oh, fine challenge. Care for some company?"
"I'd rather ride alone." Rhea kicked the sides of her horse, motioning the animal to ride off.
"Well... Good fortune to you then," Gerold conceded.
Indeed, Rhea was known in the Vale for her profound skills in riding and hunting. She didn't require any assistance from anyone if the Lady of Runestone knew there were quarries she could easily handle on her own, be they wildlife or other people. Rhea had already bagged herself some plentiful poultry which remained strapped to her saddle for eventual de-feathering. But once she rode to return home, Rhea encountered several individuals blocking her path. There were five of them, each of them wearing clothing that was not of Westerosi origins. They appeared... foreign. Rhea instinctively directed her horse's gallop to slow down to a stop. How are these men? And why were they trespassing on her lands? "You impede my path. What is your business here?" Rhea bluntly demanded.
None of them responded.
"Then I assume you have no reason for being in the Vale. Now stand aside."
Still, no one answered her and they steadily crept closer.
"Keep your distance, the lot of you," Rhea warned impatiently. "And one more time, I command you, as Lady of Runestone, to stand aside." The sound of rocks being moved behind her caused Rhea's attention on the people in front of her to break. Turning around, she saw there were six more. Now she had reason to be wary. They had effectively cut off her route. Five in front, six behind. An ambush... Her horse whinnies and slowly backs up; the animal sensed danger and was frightened. Rhea's gaze quickly returned to the five in front of her only to realize they had gotten too dangerously close. She reaches for her bow, but her sudden actions and the rush of the five startled Rhea's horse, causing it to rear its hind legs and stumble backward, falling on its back and inadvertently throwing her to the ground.
As the horse got back on its feet, it ran away in terror as the men closed in all around Rhea who remained helpless on the ground. Rhea's breathing trembled; she tried to reach for her bow to defend herself but found herself unable to move. Her neck was broken. Now seeing the men surrounding her, one pressed his foot on her arm to confirm her status.
"Cowards! Cravens!" Rhea shouted in defiance.
None paid her any heed, each of them taking turns beating into the helpless Lady of Runestone before one picked up a nearby heavy stone to finish her off. Once the deed was done, they gazed upon the unsightly Rhea who now ceased twitching.
"Our mission here is complete," one uttered in a thick Lyseni accent.
"Well, what are we waiting for?" spoke up another. "Let's head to their capital!"
"No," one of the leads refused. "We're still not strong enough. He'd crush us within a day." He turned to them. "We'll buy some time for the rest of our allies to replenish their strength. For now, report back to the general before someone sees us."
"Remember the fallen," they banged their torsos in acknowledgment.
"Remember the fallen."
Once they were certain the coast was cleared, they quickly scurried off before anyone could arrive. It was no secret the men who had attacked Lady Rhea Royce were one of the many scattered survivors of the Triarchy, the alliance between the Free Cities of Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh. Since their defeat at the Stepstones, many more losses were inflicted when Aeonar Targaryen's Plan Zero was carried out. Shipyards and cities were razed by Vaelor's dragonflame, servants turned on their masters, most of the Triarchy's High Council was assassinated, and each of their respective cities' economies had been crippled. As such, the Triarchy had been severely weakened and would require time to recover. They were nowhere near the level of military strength they once possessed to pose such a challenge to the Targaryen dynasty, but it would seem they had rallied behind a new commander to lead them in the place of the fallen Craghas Drahar who perished at Bloodstone.
However, unbeknownst to the assailants, their actions did not go unnoticed for long. Perched in a position high atop the cliffs, six Lykirī Mēre assassins were looking down at them. One of them, donning a blue robe with golden embroidery, observed. Closely, silently, not a single word was made nor was a sound uttered.
"Aftoí eínai mathabir. (They are persistent.)" the senior Lykirī Mēre noted stoically in Old Ghiscari.
"Tha nahn skotóno hum? (Shall we kill them?)" one inquired.
"La. Afisétous yakun... muaqatan. (No. Leave them be... for now.)" The leader turned to each of the acolytes. "Eseís tésseris, aitabaehum. Emméno alzilal. Mathaíno hum mystiká. Wa'ant, enimeróste to... kayinat 'aqalu. (You four, follow them. Stick to the shadows. Learn their secrets. And you, inform the... lesser beings.)" He returned his gaze to the scene below them. "Tha 'iielam Shabun Drákon. (I will inform the Young Dragon.)"
"Naí, yutqin. (Yes, master.)"
Red Keep ― Maegor's Holdfast...
Otto, now armed with the newly acquired knowledge given to him, was one of the first in the Red Keep to awaken before daybreak and did not hesitate to get dressed and leave the Tower of the Hand to inform the king of what he had just discovered. On the way to King Viserys's private chambers, he eventually walked past Aeonar, Alicent, and their three sons – who had already gotten themselves dressed for an early morning. No doubt wishing to partake in the Summer Festival which was still ongoing. Accompanying them were Alicent's handmaidens who cared for the children and two Kingsguard knights, Ser Erryk Cargyll and Ser Steffon Darklyn.
As they walked past, both Otto and Aeonar gave each other a sideways glance.
"My prince," the Hand acknowledged.
"Ser Otto," the Young Dragon reciprocated.
"Ah. Good morning, father," Alicent politely greeted. To her disappointment, however, her father did not return the greeting and kept walking past them.
Aeonar, however, kept one eye over his shoulder. Footsteps moving with the flow, head movement locked, eyes forward, healthy posture yet agitated ever so slightly – a small portion, but enough to indicate a mixture of both opportunity and unpleasantness at the same time... He was analyzing his father-in-law. You found something, didn't you?
"What is it?" Alicent inquired, noticing her husband looking behind them.
"Nothing. Nothing yet. Come. We can still make it to the Street of Silk before it gets too crowded."
Otto continued walking until he arrived at his destination. Taking a moment to adjust his collar and the Hand's badge of office, he found himself hesitating on the distasteful task he is about to do. On the one hand, Otto has always sought to undermine Daemon and the news he received could easily destroy him without any effort on his part; on the other hand, however, as a father himself and having known Viserys for fifteen years, he takes no pleasure in giving him the awful news that his daughter Rhaenyra had lost her virginity in a brothel. Knocking on the king's door three times, Otto awaits a response.
"Come," Viserys answers on the other side.
Otto enters to see Viserys had just woken up and sat on the edge of the bed in the middle of putting on some slippers. The king wore white sleepwear covered only by a red robe, his Valyrian silver-white hair was unkept and untidy, and his voice indicated he was still drowsy. The grand sculpture model of Old Valyria remained in the center of the room, having grown larger in size and scale, each intricate design made the sculpture resemble House Targaryen's origins ever more appealing. But Otto didn't come to marvel at the model itself. He was here to deliver some unpleasant news.
Viserys, now on his feet, stared at his Hand. "Well? What is it?" he asked. "What could you possibly have to tell me so early in the morning? This had better be important, Otto."
"I apologize for the early hour, Your Grace. I have, um... discomforting news. I thought it best shared discreetly before the council convenes."
"Don't tell me. Is it the Sea Snake again?"
"No. I'm afraid it concerns the princess, my king."
That got Viserys's attention. "Rhaenyra? Has she been harmed?" he asked concerned.
Otto remained composed, yet still thought hard to formulate the proper wordings. "It is no easy thing to tell a father of his daughter's exploits. I had considered saying nothing, but―"
"Did she get into trouble again? If so, what has she done this time? Thrown a pig bladder full of wine onto an emissary?"
"The princess was discovered last evening... beyond the walls of the Keep... in a pleasure house."
"What of it?"
"She was seen carrying on with her uncle. They were engaged in behaviors unbecoming of a maiden... of a princess."
"What behaviors?"
"Well, must I say it, Your Grace?"
Viserys grew increasingly annoyed. "You enter my bedchamber, accusing my daughter of something. Now speak it... plainly," he demanded agitatedly.
"Daemon and Rhaenyra were seen together... in the bowels of a pleasure den. Coupling," Otto revealed.
Viserys stared at Otto for a moment, quietly chuckling at first thinking it was a joke. "This is a lie. You have been lied to," he said incredulously. He did not doubt for a moment that his brother would still be visiting the brothels seeking physical pleasure. Viserys and Daemon both did the same thing when they were younger before they got married. But Rhaenyra? His first daughter? Such a thing was impossible. A Kingsguard stood at her door all night. The king had been fooled once before when it came to his son, he would not be deceived again now that his daughter had been mentioned.
"I only wish it were so, Your Grace."
Viserys, now noticing his Hand was indeed being serious, then suddenly his face grew wroth, and he began pacing the room, hands digging into his hair. "Who said this? Who dares to tell such lies?!" he demanded angrily. "Who is responsible for this gossip? Have this rumormonger brought before me at once. And I will take their eyes and have their tongues ripped out."
"As your Hand, I must maintain trusted sources of information," Otto replied. "And this one, as yet, has never led me astray. And several of the servants have now admitted to seeing her, the princess... creeping through the gates from King's Landing, disguised as a page during the hour of the owl."
Viserys was still incensed about what his Hand was telling him. My daughter... stalked? First my son, now Rhaenyra? But somehow, he was reminded of the faintest familiar patterns in small council meetings. Aeonar was the spymaster, not Otto. And every time his heir protested; the Hand would reallocate his tasks to himself. Long ignored, but this time the king suspected something was off. "I will ascertain the truth of this myself. And you are to breathe not a word of these 'allegations' to anyone," he ordered. "Just get out. Leave me... at once."
"Your Grace."
As Otto slowly left the king's bedchamber, Viserys turned to see Beatrice behind a privacy screen – indicating she heard their entire conversation. The king was so shocked by the news that he only remembers that his second wife is still in the room after he sent his Hand away. Viserys didn't even bother to acknowledge Beatrice's presence and continued to get himself dressed, though more clumsily with agitation and frustration. Unbeknownst to him, though, Beatrice smirked. This scandal would give her the opportunity that she needed, but she needed to be more careful. She almost tripped up last time. Her benefactor would need to be more discreet and redirect any suspicion away from her.
King's Landing ― Street of Silk...
Jugglers and acrobats worked to entertain the crowd, and plenty of food and drinks were served by tavern wenches and street vendors. The Summer Festival continued in earnest as it attracted more customers. For the small folk, it was another busy day; for the nobles attending, it was another day of partaking in such festivities. Aeonar and Alicent and their children were able to watch the mummers' performance, listen to minstrels play music and simply enjoy themselves as a family. Occasionally his eyes glanced up – one, two, three, four... about eight Lykirī Mēre keeping to the rooftops, and six in alleyways or disguising themselves amongst the local populace. All his agents were placed in strategic locations out of sight of the City Watch.
"Mama! Papa!" Jaehaerys exclaimed excitedly, bouncing up and down as the little princeling pointed at a toy dragon one of the vendors was selling.
"Oh, I see," Alicent cooed. "You want daddy to get you one?"
"Mmm! Mmm!"
Aeonar raised an eyebrow in amusement. His son was only three and still learning to talk, knowing more than a few words, but the boy knew well enough to express himself to his parents whenever he wanted something. Turning in that direction, the Young Dragon approached the vendor. "Impressive handiwork. Yes, the detail on this dragon is almost identical to our own," his eyes surveyed it. "How much for that dragon, ser?" he inquired.
"Oh my, you're the prince! The Young Dragon himself... at my shop!" the artisan recognized, hushing immediately when motioned to be quieter to not draw attention. "Well, it's a unique model which is worth about 40 copper groats in the common market. But in your case, I'll give you a small discount of 15 copper pennies. Might I ask who it is for?"
"My son," Aeonar placed some coins on the counter. "But considering how painstakingly precise your models are, what do you say to 10 silver stags? And we can forget you shouted my name."
"10 silver stags? Oh, thank you, my prince. Seven blessings to you and your family."
"Seven blessings." Aeonar returned to his family, crouching down to hand the toy dragon to an excited little boy. "Here you go, son," he said.
"Yay!" Jaehaerys chirped as he took the gift.
Alicent smiled. "Enjoy your new toy, sweetling," she said. She soon looked at Aeonar. "Darling, I've checked with some of the locals, and there's going to be a play later this afternoon called 'Songs of the Moonlit Skies'. It's a story about a fair maiden who, after a long journey, finds her true love in the most unlikely places. How romantic. I took the liberty of reserving some seats if you're interested."
"Of course, Alicent. A calm day out with you and our boys sounds quite relaxing."
"Oh stop, you're going to make me blush."
"Mama! Mama!" Jaehaerys pointed again.
Alicent looked in the direction her firstborn was pointing. "Huh? Oh, a book?" she said. She then noticed the little doe eyes her son was giving her. "Well, I suppose so. You really love reading, don't you little one? You're so much like your father."
"I heard that!" Aeonar retorted. "Don't listen to your mother, Jaehaerys. It's her from whom you've inherited the 'obsession' for stories."
"I do not have an obsession, Aeonar!" Alicent protested, ignoring a faint pinkish hue forming across her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
"Come now, Alicent. I once saw you read Wonders Made by Man at least 47 times when you were eight."
"That was years ago!"
"And it qualifies as an obsession."
"No, it doesn't."
"Yes, it does."
"No, it doesn't!"
Aeonar smirked at Alicent's reaction, her cheeks turning shades of pink and pouting. What made it more amusing was that his wife knew it too, something she did not want to be reminded of in her later years. Erryk and Steffon looked at each other confused; the handmaidens giggled amongst themselves. They knew it was merely two lovers reminiscing on their childhood.
Alicent sighed. "Hah... you're lucky I love you, Aeonar," she shook her head. "Any other man might not have been so fortunate to get away with that." She glanced around the crowd. "I'll go save us some seats. Try not to be gone long, okay? Our boys will miss you if you wander off too far."
"I wouldn't miss it."
Aeonar watched Alicent and the others venture to a nearby stand to reserve some seats for the afternoon's expected performance. 'Songs of the Moonlit Skies' originated in the city-state of Braavos which grew in popularity and soon found its way across Essos and the Seven Kingdoms itself. If Alicent was interested, then the prince could afford to spend another calm day out with his family. He watched Jaehaerys clinging on to his toy, not wanting to let it go; Aegon and Viserys fussed at the increasing noise around them while their mother's handmaidens worked to settle them down. Only Erryk and Steffon remained at Aeonar's side. The prince noticed out of the corner of his eye a man donned in red waving him down.
"Prince Aeonar," the man approached.
Erryk and Steffon moved quickly in front of the Young Dragon, hands at their sheathes ready to draw their blades at the unknown individual.
"Stand down, you two," Aeonar dismissed. "It's all right. I know him," he said reassuringly. Once the two Kingsguard stood at attention, the prince redirected his attention to the man. "Brother Lucas, what news do you bring me?"
"Word from Brother Rykker in the Vale arrived moments ago," Lucas handed over a sealed scroll. The wax entailed the insignia of the Lykirī Mēre, a purple hooded cobra.
Aeonar, knowing it was serious, broke the seal and proceeded to open the scroll. His eyes scanned each report, lips silently moving while he translated the words from Old Ghiscari into the Common Tongue. His brow soon furrowed, and he glanced up. "You are certain?" he inquired.
Lucas nodded. "Yes, my prince," he said. "Lady Rhea Royce... is dead."
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In a nearby alleyway, Daemon snored in his drunken stupor in an unfamiliar chamber. Groaning loudly, he obviously very hung over from the night before. His body felt heavy, his head was beating like a drum, and every sound made was a tad bit too much for the Rogue Prince. Sluggishly turning to the sound of utensils clanking, Daemon saw a familiar woman dressed in white Myrish lace boiling a drink.
"Mmm... Mysaria?" Daemon groaned. "Am I your prisoner?"
Mysaria shook her head. "As I was once yours?" she retorted.
Daemon chuckled at his former lover's witty remarks. He hadn't seen Mysaria since she left Dragonstone three years ago after his nephew challenged him for dominion over the island fortress after being gone for six months and witnessing Vaelor overpower Caraxes and threaten her life.
« I have been sold as property more times than I care to count, beginning in a homeland I can no longer recall. Most of my years have been spent living in terror. [...] You are Targaryen. You can afford to play your stupid games with the king, but I cannot. I didn't come into your service wanting gold or power or station. I came to you to be liberated. »
« Liberated. From what? »
« Fear. »
"I'm your protector, lucky for you." Mysaria approached and set a cup down next to Daemon. "This will cure the fog."
"I don't need protection from a common whοre..." Daemon groaned.
"I am not so common."
"A not-so-common whοre then."
"I've left that life behind. I learned that skin-trade could only take me so far in this life."
"You never were one to stay idle..."
"Hard lessons are not welcomed but suffered." Since they last met, Mysaria now operates an information broker in the underbelly of King's Landing. She notices the same street urchin from last night entering and gives Mysaria the reward money that Otto Hightower just gave to him.
"Mysar―" Daemon tried to speak, mumbling incoherently. "Mysar―"
"You can pay for the room on your way out," she called out.
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Haven delivered the reports to the White Worm, the same street urchin re-emerged from the alleyways and back onto the streets of King's Landing. Glancing from side-to-side, there were many people distracting themselves to celebrate the Summer Festival. Once the boy was certain there wouldn't be gold cloaks searching the area, he turned to leave...
...until he felt someone gripping his arms.
Turning around, the street urchin looked up to see three Lykirī Mēre looking down at him. "Wha―?" he stuttered.
"You will come with us, boy," one of them spoke in a thick Lorathi accent.