Red Keep ― Maegor's Holdfast...
With most of the festivities already winding down, Alicent brought her sons with her back to the Red Keep for a moment's rest. Overall, she had a wonderful time with her family on the Street of Silk. While she put Jaehaerys, Aegon, and Viserys down for a nap, Aeonar went to his old room whereas Alicent walked to the Tower of the Hand to see her father, but upon entering the room she found that Ser Otto was not there. This was odd because as the Hand of the King, Alicent was certain her father would be in his chambers once the small council meetings ended. For him to not be here was concerning.
"The Hand is not here, Lady Alicent."
Alicent immediately turned around to see Beatrice standing before her. The queen consort wore a silk dress donning the colors of House Peake, orange with black embroidery. Beatrice put on an aura of grace befitting a queen. Upon recomposing herself, Alicent gave a polite courtesy. "Oh, um, good morning, Your Grace," she spoke softly. "I apologize for intruding. Is there something I can get for you? Some tea?"
How innocent. But for how long? Beatrice shook her head. "That's very kind of you, but that won't be necessary. I only stopped by because you, as the Hand's daughter, would help to confirm a rumor that I've been hearing throughout the castle recently."
"A... rumor? What kind?"
"I hate to be the bearer of such vile whispers of lesser men seeking to elevate themselves above their station, but this one I'm afraid hits closer to home."
"What do you mean? Is something wrong, Your Grace?"
"Oh, the king is beside himself with distress. Having so much on his mind, yet not certain as to who he could trust." Beatrice played the role of a reassuring queen, brushing her hand across Alicent's cheek nurturing as a mother would a child. "I'm afraid these rumors your father told Viserys this morning are centered around your faithful childhood companion, the princess, Lady Alicent. My dear stepdaughter."
"Rhaenyra? I-Is she all right? What did my father tell the king?"
Just a little bit more. "I'm afraid I do not know. You know her better than I do, so I'm certain you could talk to her for me. I know Rhaenyra is like a sister to you. I am certain it's nothing. If it were just idle gossip, then the crown needn't have worry, but my lord husband is unable to cope with the news well enough," Beatrice leaned close. Give her a little nudge. "Rumor has it that your father told the king that Princess Rhaenyra was seen wandering outside the Red Keep last night with her uncle, Prince Daemon, disguised as a page. How managed to sneak out of the heavily guarded castle, I do not know. However, the two were last seen in the Street of Silk before your father's men found her entering a pleasure house... coupling."
"Wha... What?" Alicent gasped. "No. No... th-that is just not true. Not Rhaenyra. She... she would never―"
"Again, this is all mere speculation originating from the outside. Which is why I'm, as your queen, asking you to talk to her. See if she's been where she says she was. I'm sure it is false rumors intending to besmirch the princess's reputation, but with so many witnesses coming forward, it's difficult to ascertain truth from fiction. It'll help put the king's mind at ease."
Alicent, having difficulty comprehending what she had heard, momentarily stood motionless, unable to speak. Before long, however, she soon began to walk away from the Hand's room. Beatrice, on the other hand, smirked at her stepson's wife's reaction. Even if Otto's earlier reports turned out to be baseless, the controversy surrounding Rhaenyra would be politically damaging. But there was still the matter regarding Aeonar, her stepson and the king's heir. If he were to get involved, no doubt eyes would turn to her once again.
"Your Grace," hobbled in Larys Strong. "As you've requested, I've made the necessary arrangements for our contingency plans. What's more, my agents inform me that they have made a remarkable discovery that might be beneficial to our plans."
"And what would that be, Clubfoot?" Beatrice huffed.
"Trust me, Your Grace, you'll want to see this." Larys handed over a thoroughly written report delivered to him from one of his spies embedded deep within the city.
Beatrice traced the words closely, her eyes moving from one paragraph to the next. Her eyes went wide momentarily before her smirk returned. "Oh, this is perfect," she spoke silently in triumphant. "Then this works perfectly." Rhaenyra, Rhaenyra, Rhaenyra... such a sneaky, naughty little girl you've been. "I want this to be taken care of."
"It will, Your Grace, but for now I recommend patience."
"Patience?"
"Let the Young Dragon have his day. And when the time comes, we will make our move. You will swoop in and bring in a valuable champion."
"Hmph! Very well then." Once the word gets out, those two will be too distracted to focus on me and will instead tear each other apart. You see, children, I will get what I want. One way or another, I always get what I want. My blood will claim the Iron Throne – and House Peake will rule the Seven Kingdoms.
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Rhaenyra stood in her room, brushing her hair and humming. Since last night, the princess seemed less tense. No, she enjoyed herself. The thrill of sneaking out at night, seeing the sights... and experiencing the pleasures of sex. Rhaenyra had been sheltered for too long, but not anymore. Now without a care in the world, the princess contemplated her next move until she heard a knock on her door. "I'm dressed, Annora. Come," she called out.
The princess half-expected one of her handmaidens to enter her room, but to her surprise, it was Ser Criston Cole. The Kingsguard knight slowly entered the room. Since their first night, Criston felt a mix of shame and awkwardness. He had knowingly broken his sacred vow of chastity and stained the honor of his white cloak – and remained visibly uncomfortable.
"Princess," Criston averted his eyes.
"Come," Rhaenyra beckoned her lover over.
Criston, glancing up just as quickly as he diverted his gaze, steadily approached. "Ah, umm..." he stammered nervously. "Princess, I-I... the... your sister-in-law, the Lady Alicent Hightower, has asked to see you in the godswood."
"Hmm? I thought she and my brother went to the Street of Silk for the Summer Festival this morning."
"They did, but... well, I can't say for certain. All I was told was that she needed to talk to you once she got back. Said it couldn't wait another day."
Strange. Alicent never takes the initiative unless she feels certain it was deemed important enough. "Well, I suppose I shouldn't keep her waiting? Want to come with me, Criston?"
"I-I would, princess, but... Lord Commander Harrold has ordered all Kingsguard to convene in the White Sword Tower. I'm sorry."
"Eh, must've been another rundown again. No worries then. I'll see you again soon." Rhaenyra pecked Criston's cheek and left the room, leaving the Kingsguard blushing.
Red Keep ― Godswood...
Rhaenyra turned the corner leading to the godswood, the same place where she, her brother, and Alicent all hung out when they were children. It was the only area in the Red Keep where the trio could find solace whenever they wanted to be alone, away from all the politics and stresses the world had to throw at them. Taking a moment to adjust her necklace and toss her hair back, Rhaenyra noticed Alicent sitting underneath their tree. She did notice, however, that her childhood best friend/sister-in-law had tears in her eyes. Wait. Something is not right. "Alicent?" she called out concerned. "Alicent, are you all right?"
Alicent looked up. She was visibly upset, looking like she had been given the unwelcome news and was struggling to hold it together. "Rhaenyra," her lip quivered.
"Fuck, are you crying? Did something happen? Did my brother hurt you?"
"No. No, Rhaenyra, it is not him. I just... I heard some terrible things."
"What things?"
"About you!"
Rhaenyra blinked. "About me?" she repeated, uncertain of what she heard.
Nearby, unbeknownst to them, King Viserys was seen wandering the courtyard – his head reeling with what Otto told him earlier, about his daughter. Rhaenyra. Of course, he had his doubts and wanted to avoid a repeat of his mistakes as he did before, but Viserys just couldn't simply shake it off. As he turned the corner from the courtyard, the king noticed his daughter and daughter-in-law speaking with one another. Not wanting either of them to notice his presence, Viserys hid behind a pillar to eavesdrop.
"Where were you last night?" Alicent pressed.
Rhaenyra felt nervous. Shit, does she suspect something? "What do you mean?" she inquired.
"My father and the queen have heard some worrying allegations about you, Rhaenyra," Alicent said. "Were you with your uncle?"
"Oh that. Of course, the queen had to stick her nose in places where it does not belong. Well, if it bothers you that much, then yes, he took me into the city for some fun."
"Tell me the whole of it, Rhaenyra. Please... For our friendship, please be honest with me."
Rhaenyra frowned. "Your father and Beatrice have both accused me of something. That I drank wine? Left the castle after dark?"
"That you... fucked Daemon in a pleasure house," Alicent revealed.
Oh, that BITCH!! And with that Rhaenyra exploded. "This... is a vile accusation!" she screamed. "Alicent, sister... You must know I would, I would never! You cannot believe such gossip. He could not have witnessed such a thing. Because it did not happen!" Tears were forming... Not of sadness, but of bitterness and resentment.
Internally, Viserys was a mixture of emotions. First, he was angry that his 'trusted' Hand had told him first thing in the morning and Beatrice for overhearing it. He had always allowed Otto certain liberties, but this crossed the line. But the king was feeling relief to hear Rhaenyra deny these claims. Still, Daemon, his brother, had taken Rhaenyra out of the safety of the Red Keep to the streets of the city. That would need to be dealt with.
"Your father was misled. Neither he nor the queen could have witnessed such a thing. Who made these claims to your father?" Rhaenyra pressed. "I am a princess of House Targaryen. To question my virtue is an act of treason."
"I know, Rhaenyra," Alicent said. "I do not know specifically..."
"Your father did not tell you?"
"No, he reported it to the king. And the queen told me. I only want to help you, Rhaenyra. In the name of the Mother, you are like a cherished sister to me!" Alicent knows Rhaenyra well enough to sense whether she is lying, and can tell that something is amiss, but thinks that she's fundamentally telling the truth that she didn't actually have sex with Daemon.
Rhaenyra slowly calmed herself down. "We drank in a tavern. Several... taverns," she said. "It was getting late... and I asked to go home. But Daemon wished to continue. As he was my escort, I had no real choice."
"What do you mean 'continue'?"
"He took me to a show. I was only a spectator. I did not do anything. And then Daemon sank into his cups and abandoned me for some whore. I should have known better. But I swear, upon the memory of my dead mother, Daemon never touched me!"
As Alicent and Rhaenyra hugged, Viserys felt like a fly on the wall. Viserys's mind processed the information in his mind. Daemon had taken Rhaenyra out drinking? For what plausible reason? Was the wine and ale in the castle not good enough? The king shook his head, wondering why Daemon would want to take up with a whore. Why was he alone with Rhaenyra? To try and claim Viserys's second-born child to make a potential grab at the throne? The king felt his heart increase its rhythm and his hands clenched into tight fists as he imagined Daemon's smirking face, laughing at him behind his back.
"Do you think... Aeonar might be willing to help?" Rhaenyra inquired. "Yeah, he'd look into it! He was Master of Whisperers for two years! He will clear my name!"
Alicent nodded eagerly. "Of course, he will. Come on, let us go! I'm certain he'd be willing to help!"
As the young women ran off, Viserys was left alone until a guard approached.
"Your Grace, we brought Daemon to the throne room. He's... immobile, due to a hangover."
Viserys nodded his head in acknowledgment, heading straight to the throne room.
Red Keep ― Throne room...
Once he was well enough to stand up, a somewhat more sober Daemon left his 'guest room' and slowly lopes his way up Aegon's High Hill into the Red Keep's courtyard, brushing past two men-at-arms standing guard at the gates. He was dressed only in his britches and a loose white undershirt, stinking of wine. Upon his arrival, however, the Rogue Prince was greeted by two Kingsguard knights – Ser Lorent Marbrand and Ser Arryk Cargyll, both of whom were led by their Lord Commander, Ser Harrold Westerling. As Daemon stumbled, both Lorent and Arryk were quick to seize him.
"The king demands an audience, my prince," Harrold informed him.
"Take your fucking hands off me," Daemon demanded semi-coherently trying to shake off Ser Lorent's and Ser Arryk's hold on him, but the Kingsguard's grip was strong.
As the Kingsguard apprehended Daemon, they dragged him to the throne room and roughly dropped him at the foot of the Iron Throne before leaving with the rest of the household guards. Daemon grunted as he landed face-first on the ground, sprawling once the feeling of cold, hard, unforgiving concrete touched his cheeks. When the sound of a nearby side doorway creaked open, Daemon heard footsteps approaching him. Opening one eye, the Rogue Prince recognized it was his older brother, King Viserys, standing over him.
The elder of the Targaryen brothers, Viserys strode across to Daemon, who looked on the verge of falling asleep. "Why did you do it?" he demanded as he stared down at the drunken dragon rider.
"Mmm..." Daemon coughed, moaning in discomfort. "Do what, brother?"
"Won't you even deny it?"
"I need to understand the charge before I can attempt to discredit it..."
Viserys, his paternal instincts rising, grew visibly angry. "You defiled her," he hissed. "My daughter," he suddenly kicked his brother hard in the ribs.
"Oooh, oh-hoo!" Daemon groaned and turned over on his back. "What about her...? Just showed her the sights. I do not know what you are so mad about..."
"You took her from the safety of the castle," Viserys kicked Daemon again, "got her drunk," he delivered a third, "tried to disgrace her," a fourth, "and then abandoned her," and there was a fifth and final kick. The king glared at his sputtering brother. "Still, you say nothing. Have you no regard for her honor? Do you know what people are saying?"
"Mmmh! Easy with the kicks! Oh, so what if people are talking, brother? Let them gossip. Who gives a fuck what some lord thinks? Their words mean nothing to me, and neither should they concern you. When we were Aeonar's and Rhaenyra's age, we fucked our way through most of the brothels on the Street of Silk."
He is not defending himself. He is not even denying anything! "We were young men. Rhaenyra is just a girl. Your niece!"
"We are the House of the Dragon, answerable to no one. You are the dragon, the king. Your words are truth and law." Daemon then cheekily looked up at Viserys. "Besides, Rhaenyra's a woman-grown. Better her first experience is with me than some whore."
"You fucking―!" Viserys knelt and grabbed Daemon by the scruff of his shirt. "I have spent a lifetime defending you! From father, our grandfather, the entire council, I protected you from them! But your heart is even blacker than I thought," his voice then dropped in volume, unable to restrain himself, but was still sharp. "You have ruined her! You defiled my daughter! What lord will wed her now? In this condition? Explain your actions from last night. Why would you take Rhaenyra into the city?"
"How else would Rhaenyra understand how the world works if she remains couped up in the Red Keep for the rest of her life? Besides, you know her. She will do whatever she wants regardless. Your children with Aemma are full-grown; one has already started having their own family, while the other remains... isolated. Lost. Confused. Alone."
"The rules are different for Rhaenyra, and you know it. If it is suspected that she is despoiled, then her name and honor will be dragged through the mud." Viserys then unsheathed the Valyrian steel dagger at his belt and pressed it against his brother's throat. "You are no conqueror. You are a plague... sent to destroy me! It is not my daughter you lust for, is it? It is my throne. Go then. Strive to restore whatever scrap of honor remains in you. Or don't. Matters not to me. As long as you are gone from my sight for good."
"Plague?" Daemon chuckled bitterly. "I'm simply doing what you're not. Something I hoped you'd do with me: restoring the House of the Dragon to its proper glory." He then placed his hands on Viserys's shoulders. "When I gave up my crown, you said I could have anything." He then frowned. "But time and time again, you chose to listen to that sniveling snake Otto Hightower over YOUR OWN BROTHER!" he then started shouting and gripped the king's shoulders tighter. "SO, FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE, SHOW ME SOME FUCKING RESPECT AROUND HERE!" With that, Daemon forcibly shoved Viserys off him, forcing the king to land on his back. For the first time, Viserys had seen Daemon lash out at him. He never did that before. Before then, Daemon finally wobbled to the exit. "You don't want me here...? Fine. As you wish, brother... I will go. Far away from here. You won't see or hear from me ever again. I'll not trouble you any further."
With that, a drunken Daemon left the throne room – leaving Viserys alone.
Viserys sighed deeply. He had healed one relationship only to wound another. But then he shook his head, Daemon needed to learn some self-control and discipline. He still acted as if he were a youthful carefree prince, able to do whatever he wished without fear of reprisal. Viserys would not welcome his brother back until he had learned to behave himself.
Red Keep ― Rookery...
Alicent and Rhaenyra waded their way through servants to meet up with Aeonar in his private chambers, the same place he once occupied as Master of Whisperers and Lord Confessor. Overhearing the sounds of feathery wings flapping, the young women looked up to see a flock of ravens flying in through multiple windows and others leaving, a small number of servants entering and departing. Standing guard at the main entrance were four Lykirī Mēre assassins wielding bō staves. Two of them wore red garments with black embroidery whereas the others wore blue and gold.
"Rāeltan. (Hold.)" they blocked their paths. "Vestretir aōla. (State yourselves.)"
Alicent could not understand what they were saying. "Excuse me but could you please―" she tried to speak.
Rhaenyra, however, stood in front of her visibly annoyed. "Dārilaros Rhaenyra hen Targārio Lentrot iksan. Iōragon. Istin ȳdragon kostas lēkia, Dārilaros Aeonar Targārien issa. (I am Princess Rhaenyra of House Targaryen. Stand aside. I must speak with my brother, Prince Aeonar Targaryen.)" she spoke in High Valyrian.
"Bisa yel. Se ikudrāzma. (This is her. The unruly one.)" one of the Lykirī Mēre muttered to the other.
One of the high-ranking members looked at them both. "We understand the Common Tongue," he replied gruffly in a Yunkish accent. "You come seeking our master, the Young Dragon. You are his kin." They open a pathway for them. "Enter. He is expecting you."
"We're... expected?" Alicent inquired.
They did not answer, nor was Rhaenyra willing to wait any longer and entered the rookery with Alicent following close behind her. Both surveyed the room they were in – the rookery once belonged to Aeonar during his tenure as the realm's spymaster. Since no successor was appointed to the office, the tower remained vacant. Only when Aeonar and Alicent came to King's Landing for the Summer Festival did the rookery become lively once more. The men – soldiers and common servants – appeared to be undercover agents for the Young Dragon. Before long, they saw him standing over a table with his eyes glued to numerous documents and scrolls. His eyes were narrowed sharply, his brow furrowed, Aeonar was in the middle of investigating when he noticed their presence.
"They told me you two were coming," Aeonar said. He turned to his agents. "Zhíxíng nǐ de zhǐshì líkāi wǒ. (Carry out your instructions and leave me.)" He told them in Yi Tish. Once his spies left for their assigned duties, it was just Aeonar, Alicent, and Rhaenyra. "You caught me in the middle of an investigation. This had better be important."
"I'm afraid it is, husband," Alicent reported.
"Someone's been slandering me for things I didn't do," Rhaenyra said bluntly.
"Like what?" Aeonar inquired. His eyes locked onto Rhaenyra, watching her body language, listening to her tone of voice, analyzing each statement given.
"Last night, I snuck out of the castle. Yes, I will admit that. Our uncle took me to several taverns in the city. At first, it didn't seem so bad. We saw some entertainment, and made a bit of a ruckus, blending in with the local populace. It... It was getting late at night. I wanted to go back home, but Daemon took me to a show in a brothel as a spectator. I hadn't had the time to know the ins and outs of the city yet, so I had no choice but to stay with him. When our uncle was deep in his cups, he left me stranded. I needed to ask one of the gold cloaks for directions on how to get back home before it got too dark."
Aeonar never broke his concentration and listened from start to finish. When Rhaenyra was done talking, the Young Dragon folded his arms, brushing his fingers under his chin. Just one moment ago, in the slightest of movements, a mere flicker of the eyes, her gaze drifted from one side of the room toward the upper left corner. Posture shifting in certain patterns, back and forth, side-to-side – a pattern which indicates internal distress. A defense mechanism designed to act as a wall to keep others from prying further into the depths of your mind. That familiar gesture of folding her arms behind her back only to later bring them frontwards like that as if you were a small, helpless child to suppress a rise in anxiety, hesitance, deflection... fear. Worry. Dread. His mind drifted back to earlier in the morning when Otto went past him and Alicent in Maegor's Holdfast before partaking in the Summer Festival, slowly connecting the pieces. You claim these rumors to be false, yet you worry about the potential implications of what they might mean for you if proven otherwise. "Now I must admit that is quite an interesting story you've told me, Rhaenyra," he said calmly. The cool, collective tone would normally be enough to send chills down the spines of others. Certain pieces of the puzzle were missing, but still, he wanted to give his sister the benefit of a doubt. "What amazes me is that you were taken in by it so easily without even realizing it. It was foolish of you to place yourself in a position where your virtue could even come into question like that."
"I know, brother. I regret it. That is why I came to you for help," Rhaenyra beseeched.
"Please, Aeonar," Alicent agreed. "You're the only one we can turn to. Can you have some of your contacts investigate this before the situation gets out of hand?"
"Please, brother."
Aeonar sighed. "I cannot make promises I can't keep, but I'll do what I can," he relented. "Until then, for your own sake, I recommend not leaving the Red Keep until my people find something that might help your case."
"You will? Oh, thank you! I love you, brother," Rhaenyra felt a wave of relief wash over her.
Alicent nodded in approval. "We're here for you, Rhaenyra," she reassured her. "Just stay with me for a while. Do not worry. We'll get to the bottom of this." She turned to leave.
Rhaenyra turned to leave as well until she heard her brother call out to her.
"Rhaenyra."
Rhaenyra looked over her shoulder at Aeonar.
"For your sake, for our mother's sake, for our family's sake... everything you told me had better be the truth. Because if I find out that you have lied to me―"
"I swear it was!"
"Then you'd best hope the investigation does not come across anything incriminating. You are already more trouble than you are worth. Now go. And don't even think of sneaking out again."
When Rhaenyra turned to finally leave, Aeonar was again alone with his thoughts. He had already opened an investigation into the sudden murder of Lady Rhea Royce, now he was asked to inquire into the allegations surrounding his younger sister. He can already feel another headache coming, as evidenced by the nerves twitching and tugging on every nerve. Massaging his temples, the Young Dragon observed notes given to him by Grand Master Azdez mo Dharozn – each preserved note written in old High Valyrian entailing the signs and symptoms of madness plaguing known members of Old Valyria's dragonlords. He was trying so hard to keep it under control, but each stress seems to add to the problems.
"Āeksio. (Master.)" one of the Lykirī Mēre acolytes approached. "Ílon aemilza yel. (We have him.)"
Aeonar nodded. "Sȳz. (Good.)" He acknowledged. "Naejot maghan yel nyke. (Bring me to him.)"
Red Keep ― Unknown dungeon (Fourth level)...
The street urchin, upon being apprehended by the Lykirī Mēre in the Street of Silk, soon found himself chained and unable to move. No matter how hard he tried, the boy couldn't break free. "Hnngh! Mnnnh! Ugh! Why? What am I doing here? Please, please let me go!" he pleaded.
The small room illuminated only by lit torches offered small light, but not enough as the fourth level of the dungeons remained in utter darkness.
"Someone? Anyone!"
"They can't hear you, boy," one of the senior confessors mentioned. "It's a rare occasion indeed. Those who are normally brought down here never see the light of day again."
"B-But what did I do? What did I do wrong?"
"You have some valuable information our patron desires."
"But I don't know anything! I swear!"
"Really? My people say otherwise," footsteps approached, revealing Aeonar. His pale lilac eyes seemed to glow in the proximity of the torches, the darkness covering his face. "The Lykirī Mēre saw you entering and leaving a certain area in the Street of Silk. They tell me you have been eavesdropping on a few... 'interesting parties.' What's more, someone's been paying you quite a hefty sum depending on who the target is, and the risks involved."
"U-Us lowborn have to do what it takes to survive on the streets, ser," the urchin beckoned. "We starve on the streets. No one will take us in, we have nowhere else to go!"
"I'm not interested in your little backstory. I am only interested in your patron. You have quite a talent for a street urchin. Tell me who's been paying you and who you've been spying on."
"I don't know anything!"
"Stubborn little boy, aren't you? Very well then." Aeonar glanced at the confessor. "Maybe a little 'discipline' will loosen your lips."
The confessors eagerly turned the lever, tugging and pulling at every joint in the street urchin's limbs, painfully stretching them out.
"Nnnnngh! S-Stop! Stop! It hurts! Please stop!"
"You know what is required to make the pain stop. Now, be a good lad and tell us who's been paying you?"
"Ggggh! W-Wait! Stop! Th-The White Worm! My patron's called the White Worm!"
Aeonar stared at him. "That wasn't so hard now, was it?" he crossed his arms. "Now, is the White Worm a man or a woman? Describe them to me."
"But I―"
"Do you need another reminder of what happens to those who don't comply with the simplest instructions? To those who dare to defy me?"
"N-No, wait! Don't do it! Th-The White Worm is a woman. She wore a white dress. Myrish lace, I think. Black hair past her shoulders. Lysene origins."
Aeonar raised an eyebrow. Paying attention to the street urchin's details, visual imagery vaguely appeared within the Young Dragon's mind. So, you have decided to show your face again since our last encounter on Dragonstone. "Mysaria," he stated. "So your employer, the White Worm, is Mysaria. Yes, I know who she is."
"She... she doesn't tell us her name. That's all we've known her as."
"Why work for her?"
"Lady Mysa― I mean, the White Worm has been against the abuse us children have to go through in Flea Bottom. In exchange for providing information to her, she keeps us fed, clothed, all of it. That's all, I swear."
"Hmm. How noble of her but that only demonstrates how ideals like that have their flaws. Now, who did she tell you to spy on?"
"I... I can't..."
"You've been warned," Aeonar proceeded. I will get the information I desire from you, even if I have to break you to do it. "Tell me... what. I. Wish. TO. KNOW!"