Chapter Text
“And My Lady, can you tell me the name of the current Warden of the West?”
You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Grand Maester Malleon was a man small in stature. He had a mop of thick curly white hair on top of his head that did little to hide the bald spot growing there. His hawkish nose and beady eyes made him look sour. His rare smiles were thin-lipped and tight and did little to put you at ease.
It had become a sort of routine. Malleon would come in with your breakfast and poke and prod you. He found no swelling, but the spot on your left temple where the mace had struck the helm was still tender to the touch. He claimed the bruise was an ugly yellow and purple shade that your hair did well enough to hide. Apparently, it would be tender for months to come.
At first, Maellon had attempted to keep you under strict chamber rest until your memories returned, but after ignoring him for the last week he no longer tried to make the command.
“Damon Lannister, unless he has died and his son has taken over since you asked yesterday?”
You smiled innocently up at him from your sitting position. He was not as unflappable as Maester Yormwell, which you took full advantage of. His left eye twitched before he took a few steps back, grabbing something off the little tray he always brought in.
It was a vial containing a milky liquid, probably milk of the poppy as the increased activity had brought a return to your frequent headaches. It looked wrong somehow, darker than you were used to perhaps; or maybe you were looking for an enemy where there wasn’t one.
“Take a few drops with tea any time the headaches start up and the rest to help you sleep at night. If they persist more than a few hours, have someone come fetch me.” Malleon bowed curtly and opened your door to leave, only to stop before he ran into a courier who had his fist poised to knock.
You stood from your chair by the fire and made your way closer to the door, beckoning the courier in. The grand maester looked like he was going to stay to see what the man had brought you but you really didn’t want him in your business.
“Thank you, Maester Malleon. I’ll call if I have need for you.”
You were getting bolder with your tongue every day. If Malleon’s slowly darkening cheeks were anything to go by, he wasn’t happy about it. You shut the door and turned to the courier.
He was a tall lithe man with blonde hair that fell over his eyes. He was dressed in the colors of House Targaryen but nothing else stood out about him. He wouldn’t meet your gaze as he stuck out a hand holding the sealed scroll.
As soon as you took it in your own hands, he was out the door. That wasn’t unusual for the servants you had encountered. Everyone besides Anna treated you like one would a skittish horse in a thunderstorm.
You went to tear the seal of the scroll; you were only slightly disappointed it was a three-headed dragon and not a dire wolf; but stopped when you realized you still had the vial of cloudy fluid in your hand.
Your chambers had a beautiful view of kings landing from a connected terrace. The entrance to the terrace was an arch way that could be covered with a drape when needed; which is how you didn’t notice it on your first inspection of the room.
You foolishly thought it was a covered portrait of possibly the late princess Jena and had tiptoed around it for days until Anna questioned why you didn’t break your fast on the terrace to enjoy the spring air.
After getting over the sting of being incorrect, you did enjoy your morning meals on the terrace. There was a small box garden out there that had flowers that were just starting to bloom. Anna had been tending to them very diligently and you only felt slightly bad when you poured the vial into the flowers.
The contents dripped down in fat drops and seeped into the soil, vanishing from view.
~
The scroll had been a summons to attend the mid day meal in the tower of the hand. It had been succinct and didn’t mention who would be there but it hadn’t been hard to guess. The princes had been busy since arriving at the capitol.
Your steps echoed along the stone as you followed your guard towards the tower. You had asked once where Ser Duncan was but apparently the man had been quite busy learning all of his new duties that came with serving the royal family.
Your new shadow was named Alton. He wasn’t a knight but he carried the sword on his hip with an ease that left little room to doubt he knew how to use it. He was a man of few words and usually only spoke in grunts or nods. It was always amusing to ask him a question he had to answer with words and to watch him struggle to pick the right ones.
The two guards at the entryway to the tower allowed you through with little preamble and you were only slightly winded by the time you made it to the wooden door at the top. The guard on that door did in fact stop you to announce your presences and then ushered you in.
The tower of the hand was segmented into multiple rooms. It opened into a space that you assumed was a mix of a parlor and a study but you could see two other doors along the back wall that probably led to a bedroom and privy respectfully.
All the drapes were open letting in warm spring light, and the smell of food was enough to make your mouth water. Your nerves had not allowed you to break your fast this morning. A table had been pulled to the center of the room and was filled with steaming dishes and more than a few jugs of wine.
What drew your attention more were the two men standing around the table. It would have been funny if your nerves didn’t have you on edge; the two men looked like they had been caught with their fingers deep in a bakers pie. All wide eyed and rigid, it was so out of character to the two men who easily were able to bend a room to their will.
You wished you had not come if they were going to pretend you hadn’t spent the last weeks dancing around-
“Lady Stark, please have a seat.”
All of your nerves and annoyance fled your mind at the sound of Baelor’s deep timbre. Gods it had only been a few days since you had spoken to Baelor; a quick pass in a hall where he had grabbed your hands without preamble and apologized for his absence; he was called farther down the hall before the man could say more and you were left standing there like an utter fool with your mouth agape.
Alton had found that funny.
You bowed your head to hide the heat on your face and Baelor pulled out a chair at the table. Maekar had already sat down and was reaching for his goblet.
The table was small, only able to fit one chair on each side; you tried not to think about how that put you in between both brothers.
Baelor pushed in your chair and took his own. You suspected Baelor had called upon you to discuss the matters of your health or even maybe give you a letter from your father; but when he did neither of those things and started conversing with his brother instead, you were utterly baffled.
“How is Aerion faring?”
It was spoken casually enough; an uncle asking about the health of his injured nephew, but by the way Maekar stiffened in his chair you could tell he didn’t think so. You quickly looked away and grabbed a pastry that smelled to be filled with beef and vegetables.
“His pride is more bruised than he.”
Baelor nodded at his brothers assessment, rubbing his beard thoughtfully. It struck you how domestic this was. If you didn’t think about who you were dining with, you could almost call it nice. It was nice to get out of your chambers and away from the beady eyes of Maester Malleon. They reminded you too much of the ravens you found perched outside your window at odd hours of the day.
You cleared your throat, pushing the thoughts away.
“Will you send him away from court?”
You had heard whispers as you went about your days and couldn’t deny you were curious of what fate would befall the cruel prince.
Baelor let out a strangled sound and quickly picked up his goblet to hide his face. He was not quick enough to hide his smile from you, nor his brother.
Maekar shot a warning glare at his brother, but it seemed the crowned prince didn’t feel much reproach in it as he sipped his wine not breaking the gaze. If their was any truth to the rumor that dragons and riders could read each others minds without ever uttering a word, you would believe it staring at the two dragons before you.
Baelor lowered his cup to the level of his chin and turned towards you, “My brother wanted to send him to Lys.”
You furrowed your brows at the absurdity of that. Lys would not rectify Aerion’s behavior, it would only embolden the boy.
“I convinced him otherwise, thankfully.” Baelor murmured , and if you hadn’t been watching his face with rapt attention you would have missed the slight wink he flashed you from behind the goblet.
It must have not been as hidden as he believed for Maekar let out a little sound of disgust that set gooseflesh prickling along your exposed arms.
“If you have a better idea, I’d love to know.” Maekar groused out, sinking in his chair rather petulantly. It would have made you laugh if your heart wasn’t still in your throat. The impropriety of this whole meal was not lost on you, but the princes had a way of forcing every jumbled thought from your mind, making you forget your manners completely. It was quite dangerous.
A maiden should not have thoughts of mounting these men like the dragons of old.
Baelor held up his free hand in deference , and your eyes followed the gesture spellbound. You felt a haze settle over your mind, like someone had pulled cotton over your ears to mute the sounds of the outside world as you watched his fingers twitch in the air.
“What if you sent him North?”
The words left you almost breathlessly and it took you a moment to realize they had actually come from you. Both men turned towards you and you grabbed your own wine, needing to do something with your hands to distract you.
No one responded for a long moment, you could tell the brothers were having another silent coversation across you but you did not look up for fear of what you might see. The wine went smoothly down your throat and warmed you, soothing your frazzled nerves.
You heard Baelor lean back in his chair, letting out a little huff of air.
“Now, that is something I hadn’t thought of.”
He sounded impressed; which sent the butterflies in your gut in a flurry. Making the heir to the iron thrones proud was not something you knew you wanted.
Maekar just scoffed, which caused your head to snap to him.
“You would have me send my son half way across the realm to-.” Whatever his next words were, died in his throat when he saw your glare. You would let the princes get away with many things, dissparaging your home was not one of them.
You straightened your back and narrowed your eyes at Maekar, daring him to continue.
Baelor cleared his throat, trying to break the tension. “I think fostering a season or two in Winterfell, would do Aerion wonders.”
You watched from the corner of your eye as Baelor ran a hand along his beard in a mindless gesture. The noise it made caused your spine to tingle pleasantly.
Maekar broke your gaze first, looking down at the table. A muscle in his jaw twitched. If the prince of Summerhall could set things ablaze with his gaze, his poor goblet wouldnt have stood a chance.
“Your younger sister is around Aerion’s age isnt she?” Baelor continued, seemingly perfectly at ease. His mismatched eyes were full of mirth that pulled you in deeper.
You nodded, “I’m sure father would be honored to host a prince of the realm. It would be the first Targaryen to go to Winterfell since Prince Jaceryes.”
Both of the brothers flinched at your statement, which only deepened your confusion. You leaned forward, looking at Baelors profile.
“Have you heard word from my father? His letter should have arrived by now.”
Baelors princely mask was back in place, you could glean nothing but kind consideration in the eyes that were usually so open to you. It made you feel uneasy.
“I have received no ravens from Winterfell-” you opened your mouth to interrupt him but Baelor held up a hand, silencing you.
“I’m sure he has received it and immediately made plans to depart. Writing a correspondence must has slipped his mind in his haste.” Baelor continued; he spoke with such certainty you almost believed him.
Almost.
“What of my brother? Or my mother? Surely they would respond in my fathers stead.” You fisted your dress in a tight grip underneath the table.
Something was wrong. What if some calamity had befallen your home in your absence. What if their was no response from Winterfell because there was no one left.
But surely news of such a disaster would have reached the capitol by now.
Baelor just smiled at you, but the smile did not reach his eyes. It was the smile one gave a child when they were babbling nonsense along with a light pat on the head. It held more pity than you cared to think about.
Pity.
That treacherous emotions that covered you like a death shroud.
You turned desperately towards Maekar hoping he would see the absurdity of this and come to your aid. The man was already looking at you and the pain in his eyes was not hidden from you but it quickly faded and was replaced with a cold indifference he so often liked to wear in lieu of his actual feelings.
“you can send another letter to your mother and siblings if it will stop your whinging.”
Your mouth fell open before you could stop it. These blasted idiots. You were the victim here. You were allowed to be concerned about your fate without your emotions being thrown back in your face by these-
But that was it, wasn’t it?
You were a victim. A victim of circumstance. No one here would help you. They allowed you to stay out of sense of duty but if you wanted anything to change you needed to stop feeling sorry for yourself and actually do something about it.
Maekar was smiling. A small thing that was mostly covered by his beard. He seemed pleased to have caused such a reaction for you. Like he had been poking and pushing until he finally found the spot that made you bite back.
Well if he wanted the wolf’s teeth…
“Did you say the same thing to your son when he was shipped off to the citadel?”
It was like all the air was sucked out of the room. Maekar sat rigid in his chair, his entire body looked pulled taught, like a bow string drawn back right before it was let loose. A sick part of you was thrilled at being able to cut the prince with your words.
You expected Maekar to fire right back, allowing you the freedom to release your anger and frustration on the man as you both spat venom back and forth; but instead he seemed to gather himself and rose sharply from the table, pivoting on the balls of his feet and leaving the tower without so much as a glance back.
~
Soot struggled in your grip as you peaked around the corner to check if the coast was clear. Your plan was admittedly rushed but you were confident you could pull it off if only Soot would cooperate.
You stepped back from the corner when you saw that the only figure in the hall was the guard standing at the entry way to the tower. Thankfully only one now instead of the two from earlier.
You placed Soot on the ground and crouched down with him, cupping his face in both hands.
Sometimes it was like you were both of the same soul. Your own eyes staring right back at you.
“This all relies on you.”
You doubted he understood the words you were saying as you rubbed gently at his jaw with the tips of your fingers; but it made you feel a little more confident.
Soot let his eyes fall shut as he began to purr and nuzzle into your hands. Gods this was a stupid idea. You pulled your hands away and Soot opened his eye, looking up at you expectantly.
“Okay now, shoo.” You whispered and softly pushed Soot’s flank towards the corner.
He looked at you unimpressed.
“I will get you the biggest fish I can find” you tried bribing.
He walked back towards you and you were hopeful for a moment until he started rubbing along your knee through your dress.
You inhaled deeply trying to temper you annoyance. You could always return to your chambers and try again another night. But thoughts of what secrets were being kept from you, would not let your mind settle.
But there also might be nothing, you could be over thinking this and instead were going to ruin your friendship with Baelor when he catches you poking around his desk.
No.
You would find your answers and the only way to do that was past that guard and up those stairs.
You absently placed a hand along Soot’s back, running it down his spine as your thoughts spiraled deeper slowly building into a crescendo until all at once-
Your mind was silent.
You opened your eyes and startled when you saw your own face staring back at you. You stumbled back, only to trip over a tail… your tail.
~
Guard duty had to be Dunk’s least favorite of his new jobs. All the standing and waiting; never mind his new armor that was much heavier than he was used to. It really grated on his nerves.
He shouldn’t have expected anything else. Maybe some boyish part in him thought when he pledged his sword to Baelor once he had been permitted entry into Ashford castle, he would become the crown prince’s sworn shield.
But after an assessment of his skills where Prince Maekar seemed to take great joy in re-bruising his newly healed ribs, it was decided that he would in fact not be guarding the prince any time soon.
Once arrived in Kings Landing he was treated more like a squire than a knight, but when Prince Aerion showed his scarred face around the keep, the men seemed to look at him with a little more respect.
That didn’t stop guard duty from being boring though. Even if he was stationed outside the tower of hand.
Dunk had started counting the stones on the wall across from him to keep his mind focused when a dark shape darted out from around a corner at the end of the hall.
“Soot?”
The cat stopped abruptly in front of him at the sound of his voice and Dunk only had a second to process why the feline wasn’t in the Prince’s chamber before Soot turned and dashed farther down the hall and vanished into an open door that Dunk vaguely remembered housing Targaryen Artifacts.
…
His feet were already moving before the first crash sounded.
~
Pulling yourself out of the mind of your cat was thankfully a simple task. While you were in the mind of Soot, you were aware of your own body, like one is aware of a sleeping leg even if they can’t move it.
You would dig deeper into your knew abilities later. You had to focus.
You just hoped you caused a distraction that would last long enough.
You hadn’t expected Duncan to be guarding the entrance and you felt only slightly guilty for how easy it was to pull him away from his post.
You rose from your crouched position and rounded the corner. A small crowd of servants were gathering at the far end but they paid you no mind as their attentions were fixed on the chamber that was still periodically releasing crashes, grunted curses and the periodic yowl.
You steadied yourself quickly, walked down the hall and turned into the passage that lead up to the tower of the hand.
The door at the top was thankfully unlocked when you pushed against it. All the candles in the main chamber had been doused; but a small fire had been left to smoulder in the hearth.
That means that Baelor was away.
You silently thanked Anna’s constant chattering of servant customs that had allowed you to pick up a few things in the days she had been in your service.
You wasted no time weaving your way around furniture and towards the desk closes to the fire.
As neat and tidy a man Prince Baelor seemed to be; his desk showed that of a mind in chaos. Much like the desk back in Ashford you mused.
You hadn’t a clue what you were actually looking for but you began to shuffle through the slips of papers and scrolls that littered the surface. You made sure to look closely at all the seals in the dim light, hoping you would find the unbroken seal of your father.
You didn’t.
Your shuffling through the papers grew more frantic the longer you came up with nothing more interesting than apparently a denounced Lannister bastard traveling to Essos to join the remaining Blackfyres there.
But there had to be something.
You rounded the other side of the desk and sat in the chair so you had easier access to the drawers.
There were only two. The first one held nothing of note besides a few child drawings that you wish you had the time to examine further, the second was locked.
Why was it locked?
The key hole looked at you tauntingly.
You felt around the edges desperately trying to pry the wood open because if you could just uncover the truth maybe you could attribute all your fears and uncertainties to a misunderstanding. You no longer would have to feel the deep mixture of guilt and fear and your thoughts would no longer be such a jumble because you would know the truth.
It was the sound of foot steps coming up the tower that stoped you from spiraling further. It didn’t sound like Baelor’s sure quick cadence which made you all the more fearful.
You looked desperately around the chamber for a place to hide and you had almost decided to accept your fate at being found red handed until you remembered the balcony you had seen earlier in the day.
You scrambled out of the chair and ran over to the balcony and slipped out into the dark night air just as the door to the tower opened. The curtains of the balcony were drawn closed but you found a crack in between the panels of fabric where you could see a sliver of the chamber.
Your heart thudded loudly in your chest and your breathe sounded deafening to your own ears so you covered your mouth to muffle it.
What was the punishment for breaking into the quarters of the crown prince ?
You wondered morbidly if it was similar to the price of striking a prince.
“I don’t think I have ever seen Aegon in such a state. The poor boy was reticent at dinner tonight.”
A woman stepped into view, her back turned towards you as she leaned on the desk you had just been sitting at.
Maekar stepped into view after the figure. His jaw was clenched. He was in a different clothing than he was this morning; his deep red cloak swished in his wake as he paced in front of the woman.
Gods you should have never come up here.
Your lungs burned with the effort to hold your breath.
“I know my own children. Aerion would not do something so cruel.”
The lady tilted her head towards the prince.
“Wouldn’t he?” She paused and reached a hand out to Maekar, palm up invitingly.
" Didn’t you just tell me about the incident where he almost broke Daeron’s nose." She continued.
Maekar stopped his pacing and the weight in his shoulders seemed to flee with an exhale as he took the ladies hand.
Your confusion only grew and your head began to pound painfully as you tried to silently suck in air. The low lighting in the room silhouetted the woman figure making it impossible to make out any of her features.
Did Maekar have a mistress you didn’t know about ?
An unwanted feeling of jealously began to rise from deep in your gut, curling with disgust as Maekar stood in front of the woman, standing close enough that their front must have been brushing.
“Daeron was drunk and fell from his horse. It’s different.”
Maekar’s voice had dropped to a soft breathy whisper that you had to strain your ears to hear. It caused a shiver down your spine.
The lady was silent for a long moment, they must have been having a silent conversation for suddenly; his hands moved to her waist and with a grunt he sat her on the desk.
Maekar didn’t seem to care about his brothers letters as the moment caused an open ink well to spill across the wood.
The woman just giggled breathlessly.
“I do not wish to speak anymore of this.”
Maekar hissed the last word as the woman seemed to have snuck a hand down and grounded the palm of it against his cock.
Heat surged through your core at the pure filth of watching this intimate act. You wouldn’t dare looked away even if you could.
Maekar let his head drop in the junction of the woman’s neck and shoulder and started peppering kisses there.
“We will talk about this later.” The woman asserted coldly, seemingly unaffected by Maekar’s attentions to her skin.
When he didn’t immediately respond; attentions fixed on undoing the ties on the back of her dress so he could slip it off her shoulders to continue his descent of kisses; the woman pushed him away abruptly and Maekar stumbled back.
He looked debauched.
His chest heaved with breaths as he took a step forward trying to get the woman back in his arms but she raised her slipper clad foot against his chest, stopping him in his tracks.
“I’m being serious, Maekar.”
She straightened her shoulders putting on an air of authority that was only slightly tarnished by her stated of undress. Maekar could seem to decide what he wanted to do. He looked ready to devour and fight with the woman at the same time but he eventually let out a quick nod, breaking eye contact with the woman to grasp her ankle with both of his hands.
The image of his hands dwarfing the ladies ankle as he slid off her slipper would be forever seared into your brain. And then the lady let her leg drop and Maekar was on her in an instance and there was a flurry of clothing and sounds that you had to tear to your eyes away from. You tried to ignore the pulsing between your legs.
But as soon as your gaze broke away from the intertwined couple, the sounds stopped.
You flicked your eyes back to the gap in the curtains and you gasped. There stood in the middle of the chamber , a chamber now devoid of the ardent couple, was Lord Brynden Rivers.