Chapter 51: Interludes III
'Some of the most persistent myths surrounding the Ruby Order are the tales about the monsters they fought in their home - the creatures of Grimm, or, colloquially, the Grimm. Descriptions of those creatures vary, though all are said to share the common characteristic of having glowing red eyes, pitch black skin or fur, and snow white bone armour covering various parts of their bodies. The Ruby Order were said to have trained to hunt such beasts, together with others in their homeland, where the Grimm were a constant threat to the population. Much has been written about those creatures, and entire expeditions have combed the edges of the world in an attempt to find such specimens. Of course, no trace of such beasts has ever been found, nor have any of their remains.
The blatant lack of any proof for the existence of such creatures has not, however, prevented scholars of dubious ethics from wildly speculating about them despite the fact that they were obviously myths based on exaggerated tales of existing animals, such as the direwolves common to the North, or the mammoths from the lands beyond the Wall - where the Ruby Order first appeared. Beowolves, boarbatusks, ursa, nevermores and goliaths all correspond to normal animals found in the Northern parts of Westeros. The 'bone armour' clearly is either a later addition to the first reports, or the result of some half-frozen member of the Night's Watch mistaking snow and ice clinging to a beast's fur for armour.'
A Treatise On The Ruby Order, by Maester Kennet Bracken
*****
Dragonstone, Westeros, 298 AC
"So, we caught you. You tried everything you could think of, and it didn't work. You can't kill us."
Ser Jon Snow nodded in agreement as Lady Ruby addressed the prisoner. Not even poisonous gas released while they were asleep had hurt the Four Maidens. Nothing could, not even what magic and ancient knowledge the Faceless Men could use.
Their prisoner didn't react, though. He was chained to the chair he was sitting on, in front of a table - Lady Ruby had insisted that this was how a 'proper interrogation' should be set up. She had blushed when Lady Yang had mentioned that they would bow to her greater experience, and Jon wasn't quite sure what that meant, though based on his experience with the Four Maidens, it was probably referring to a small mistake Lady Ruby must have made in the past. Probably forgetting the table when she interrogated her first prisoner, or something like that.
She stared at the prisoner and went on: "So, we know about your split. Or schism. Whatever. But we proved that you cannot kill us."
"Valar morghulis."
"Ah." Lady Ruby nodded. "Valar dohaeris."
The man stared at her. "A girl does not serve."
"Well, we aren't men," Lady Yang said with a grin.
"Yang! That's not how it works!" Lady Ruby glared at her sister, then stared at the prisoner again. "We don't expect you to serve us; we expect you to stop attacking us so we won't have to go to your House of Black and White and raze it to the ground."
"And kill those of you who think we must die," Lady Yang added.
"Valar morghulis."
"We don't want to kill you. We just want to go home," Lady Ruby said.
The prisoner didn't answer. Jon didn't think he would. Although he couldn't really say why he thought that, other than a gut feeling; the assassin showed no emotion at all. He was like a statue. Jon almost snorted at the thought that the statues of the Seven in the Sept here felt more alive than the man, and even more so the weirwood tree in the godswood back in Winterfell. Although… Jon narrowed his eyes. The man somehow smelt… not desperate, like prey trying to escape, more like… Resigned, in a way.
He blinked. Why would he think that? He didn't smell anything. And why would he think desperation or resignation had a scent? And why did he suddenly feel the urge to kill the man to protect his friends? The prisoner was helpless, in chains, and the Four Maidens didn't need Jon's protection!
A cough behind Jon reminded him that the castellan of Dragonstone was present as well. And that Jon still needed to improve his 'situational awareness', as Lady Yang called it; he had forgotten about the man's presence.
"Uh… yes?" Lady Ruby turned to smile at the man.
"According to your own testimony, and proven by the hidden items your wolf found tracking his scent, he is responsible for both the arson on the Black Betha and the attempted poisoning of an entire wing of Dragonstone," the castellan said. "Either crime deserves death. Both…" He trailed off, likely because Lady Ruby was gasping at him.
"Well, he can take the black, right?" Lady Yang sounded a bit less sure than she usually spoke, though, Jon found.
"He is a foreigner," the Castellan pointed out, before adding: "But yes. That would be his right."
"Valar morghulis." The prisoner still didn't show any emotion, but Jon couldn't help feeling that he sounded a bit smug.
Lady Ruby tried to get the man to talk for a bit longer, as did Lady Weiss, but the man didn't say anything else but his morbid "Valar morghulis" until they abandoned their attempts and had him returned to his cell.
*****
"Man, that was a bust!" Lady Yang complained when they left the tower in which the keep's dungeons were located. "The creep seems determined to die."
Jon nodded in agreement, even though he was bringing up the rear of their group, and no one could see. Or should see it - sometimes, the Maidens, especially Lady Blake, seemed to have eyes in the back of their heads.
"He didn't say out loud that he wouldn't join the Night's Watch, though. But the way he kept repeating "Valar morghulis"... was that a threat against us or an announcement that he wants to die?" Lady Ruby asked.
"It is ambivalent enough to be both, and intended as such, I believe," Lady Weiss said.
"Well, he could take the black. No skin off our butts if he decides he wants to die."
Jon had heard Lady Yang's expression before but still felt his cheeks grow warmer at the thoughts it caused inside his mind. Briefly. He took a few deep breaths of the colder air outside, though the sulfuric stench almost made him gag. He didn't quite understand how the others could stand it; while it varied, sometimes, it was very intense.
"But we captured him. We're responsible, kinda."
"He tried to kill us and dozens of innocent sailors, Ruby! And then tried to fill an entire wing of the castle with deadly gas!"
"I know, Weiss."
Jon patted Ghost's back when his wolf rubbed against Jon's side, gentle enough not to push him on his side - the wolf's head was now level with Jon's chest, and had the weight to match. Jon was glad that Ghost had proven to be so useful, or he would feel guilty about the coin the Order had to spend to feed his friend. Of course, caring for warhorses was even more expensive, and the Order needed at least one of them for every member, several to replace the losses, if what Jon had heard from Ser Jory about the Greyjoy Rebellion was true. But Jon needed a horse in addition to Ghost…
"It was still his decision, not ours, to attempt to murder us. He knew the risks and consequences," Lady Weiss retorted. "And he should have expected that we would catch him."
"Yeah, I know. I just… I hoped he'd be more, well, reasonable."
Jon wanted to tell Lady Ruby that the man who decided the sentence should be the man to swing the sword, as his uncle had taught him, but that would have been presumptuous. Jon was younger and less experienced than the Four Maidens; what would he know? Still, he didn't like to see Lady Ruby feeling concerned about the assassin. "At least, the murderer doesn't have a right to a trial by combat," he told her. "You will not have to fight him, my lady."
Lady Ruby blinked, then nodded. "Right. Because he's no noble."
She didn't sound as if she was relieved, Jon noted. He probably hadn't helped.
Lady Yang, though, nodded. "Yeah! We can let Lady Selyse handle this. Or her Castellan."
Lady Ruby nodded after a moment, and Jon saw Lady Weiss roll her eyes before wrapping her arm around Lady Ruby's shoulders and saying: "It's not our fault, Ruby."
"I know…"
"Anyway, good work, Jon! Without you and Ghost, we wouldn't have caught the... creep." Lady Yang beamed at him, then prodded his side with her elbow.
She wasn't as gentle as Ghost, but she didn't weigh nearly as much, so he still managed to avoid stumbling. "It was mostly Ghost."
"Naw. He followed your commands. That means you did your share as well!" Lady Yang grinned. "No skirting responsibility for good or ill!"
Jon nodded at that. Irresponsibility was the worst sin. Like those men sleeping with women and leaving them with bastards without any support.
So he nodded and smiled at Lady Yang. And tried to ignore the pang in his heart when she returned his smile with one of her own.
"That's the spirit! So, how long do you think it'll take to go through the books here, Blake?"
"I don't know yet, Yang. Maester Cressen is still making a list, or so I was told."
"Alright, looks like we'll be staying a bit, then. Ser Davos's ship needs to be repaired, anyway."
"Right, Yang."
As they walked towards their quarters, Jon eyed the Sept on the side. Maybe he should spend some time praying there to clear his head. He certainly could use some guidance. And some peaceful rest - he had been dreaming too much about blood and raw meat lately. Such thoughts were unbecoming of a knight.
*****
Dragonstone, Westeros, 298 AC
"Hiyah!"
"Missed me!"
"I wasn't aiming for you!"
"You were aiming for the rock?"
"Yes!"
Lady Selyse Baratheon had to struggle not to gape like a smallfolk wench when she watched the 'training session' of her guests. Her Lord Husband and Lady Melisandre, both above any suspicion of exaggerating, much less lying, had written to her about those four women and their power, and yet to see them fight each other was something else. To shatter stone with a single blow, make standing leaps higher than most buildings on Dragonstone, and move faster than the eye could see… Selyse couldn't help feeling overwhelmed. Only once in her life had she been more awed: When she had first truly realised the might of R'hllor and had dedicated herself to him. Nothing else compared - not the time she had been told she was to wed the King's brother, not the time they had wed, nor the time she had born Shireen.
"Hah!"
"Gah-Ugh!"
She drew a sharp breath and held it when Lady Ruby smashed Lady Weiss so hard into a rock, it shattered like a pot of clay dropped on a stone floor. Such power! Surely none could survive such a blow!
Yet, Lady Weiss was barely fazed and sprang to her feet, blade in hand, to charge forward. Lady Ruby met her head-on, like knights jousting in the lists. Her giant scythe swung around in a mighty blow…
…and met a glowing glyph that had appeared in her path. The glyph shattered a moment later, Lady Ruby pushing through, yet Lady Weiss had moved already, and the curved blade of the scythe met only air when the maiden flew over it, then pushed off another glyph to ram the tip of her sword into Lady Ruby's shoulder.
"Gah!"
Lady Ruby stumbled and fell, ploughing a through into the hard ground, throwing up rocks and clots of earth while Lady Weiss flipped in the air like an acrobat - or a dancer - and landed in a perfect stance, blade raised in salute.
"Point me!"
"Bah!" Lady Ruby grinned ferociously as she rose from the ground, twirling her blade. "I need to be faster!"
A moment later, she disappeared in a cloud of petals, and a red streak shot toward Lady Weiss. Glyphs appeared, half a dozen, yet the red blur waved between them, then crashed through the last, and when Lady Ruby reappeared, her weapon's blade was already hooked around Lady Weiss's body.
"Yeah!"
Selyse winced when Lady Weiss was driven into the ground with so much force, a small cloud of dust was thrown up.
And yet, she rose again, none the worse for wear, and flicked her blade twice before pointing it at her opponent. "Point you!"
"It's amazing, mother!" Shireen breathed next to her. "It's like Father wrote us!"
Indeed, it was. Lady Selyse nodded. To think she had had doubts about the nature of those girls - those maidens - even after Lady Melisandre's letter. No, it was as the Red Priestess had written: They were here on a divine mission, and it was the duty of every follower of R'hllor to assist them.
Even though she had trouble thinking about what kind of assistance they might need from her. There was nothing in the world that could stand up to them; even the dragons, were they not extinct, would not be able to hurt someone who could stand in fire without burning, as Lady Yang had demonstrated earlier. Or create doubles of themselves, as Lady Blake had done.
And, Selyse reminded herself, they were in full support of the Lannisters. Ready to defend their claim to the Iron Throne with all the might on display today. Lady Weiss had left no doubt about that.
And Selyse couldn't help wondering if that was truly the will of the gods. Her Lord Husband was the rightful King of the realm. Not the bastard born from incest. The seed was strong - Shireen didn't share many of her features, after all.
And yet, if that was true, why would the Maidens oppose her Lord Husband's claim? Was this a test of his - and hers - resolve? To see if he was worthy of the throne? But everyone who had met her Lord Husband would know that he would break himself before he'd let the law be broken.
Or were the Maidens deceivers, posing as divine messengers to foster and reward the Lannisters' depravity? But why would R'hllor support them? Lady Melisandre would never be fooled by them, not with R'hllor's power filling her. She had named her Lord Husband Azor Ahai.
Could they be correct? Was the prince the son of her good brother? The nephew of her Lord Husband? The oldest prince had died, not at the hands of the maidens, but at the hands of magic dust stolen from them. Or so people said. But what if they had planned this? What if they had come to King's Landing to do that? They had revealed the incest. Lady Ruby had personally killed Ser Jaime. And Lady Weiss's magic powder had killed the eldest prince.
Was that a sign?
She didn't know. And both her Lord Husband and Lady Melisandre were in King's Landing, where she couldn't talk to them.
*****
Dragonstone, Westeros, 298 AC
"...and this is all I could find about 'magical ruins', my ladies." Maester Cressen smiled while he presented his findings.
Lady Weiss smiled at him. "Thank you, Maester, for your time and work. We appreciate it very much."
Lady Blake nodded, though her attention was on the books Cressen had stacked on the table. He could understand that, of course - his love for books had been one of the reasons he had gone to the Citadel. Not the most important, of course - he'd had few better prospects - but it had made abandoning his old life somewhat appealing, at least.
"I hope you will find what you seek in them," he said, leaning on his good leg. His hip had never healed properly after his fall, and standing for long pained him more and more. Age was catching up, at last.
"So do we," Lady Weiss said with a wry smile.
"To be honest, until recently, I had thought magic gone from this world," Cressen went on, as much to distract himself as out of curiosity.
"We are not using magic," Lady Weiss said at once. "We are using our Aura and Semblances. Those have been researched thoroughly in our home. There's nothing magical about either."
"So I've heard as well," Cressen admitted. "Yet, I wasn't talking about your abilities - I was talking about the time Priestess Melisanre demonstrated her powers."
"Oh." Lady Weiss blushed a little, he noted. It made her look far younger than her manners let her appear. "I am sorry for assuming you meant our abilities. Others do not share your view."
Cressen nodded. She must be talking about Archmaester Marwyn. His obsession with magic was well known in the Order. "And yet, you hope magic will return you to your home?"
"I do not see any other option," she said. "It must have been magic that took us here." Lady Blake nodded.
"Unless it was divine intervention," Cressen ventured, studying their reactions intently.
Lady Blake's expression didn't change, but Lady Weiss pressed her lips together in a slight frown. "If a god took us here, they did so without leaving any sign of their deed or any clues about their intentions," she said.
"Do you not think that you were sent here by the Seven Who Are One?" Cressen asked. It was a dangerous question - either of them could easily kill him, should they take offence, but he was an old man, and he could already feel the Stranger looking for him whenever his hip hurt and he had trouble rising from his bed in the morning. His only worry was that Stannis would take offence for him, but Lady Selyse should handle that.
"We don't know," Lady Weiss said. "If they have plans for us, they have not informed us of them."
"And yet, you have established yourself as a power at court." And in the realm at large, he added in the privacy of his mind.
"It would go against everything we stand for if we didn't use our power to render help to those who need it or to defend those who cannot defend themselves," Lady Weiss said.
Lady Blake nodded again. "We cannot tolerate those who abuse their power and harm others for their own profit."
Cressen nodded. Noble, if lofty goals - and yet, most nobles he knew would claim so as well, even when acting most selfishly. Not Stannis, of course. He always tried to do what was right, no matter the cost to himself. But while Cressen knew Stannis like no one else - he had practically raised him - he didn't know the Maidens. He didn't know if he could trust them.
And that the Red Priestess was determined to help them, and had written with that in mind to Lady Selyse, made him more than a bit suspicious, even though - or especially because - Stannis had done the same.
On the other hand, Cressen could easily understand why anyone would want to help these four Maidens return to their home. Without them, the situation at Court would change significantly. Especially now that Lord Tywin was dead and his surviving son would have to struggle to consolidate his position.
But Stannis would see this as a sign to push his claim, and even with Renly's support - which was far from certain - the outcome would be chancy. If Renly and the Tyrells supported Stannis, the Lannisters couldn't stand against them unless they had the support of at least two other great houses. House Stark was closely tied to House Tully and House Arryn. Their support would be decisive.
And Cressen had no idea how Lord Eddard would react to such a situation. Nor what House Greyjoy and Martell would do, although Balon Greyjoy's heir was held at Winterfell, so that would give Lord Eddard some leverage.
Still, he had been ordered to help Team Ruby by Stannis, and despite his worries, he had done so honestly and diligently.
Cressen knew his duty to his lord.
*****
The Red Keep, King's Landing, Crownlands, Westeros, 298 AC
"So!" Lord Renly Baratheon smiled a smile he didn't really feel, despite his beloved Loras sitting in the seat next to him - but not as close as Renly wished; they weren't private, after all. "According to the most recent news, Lady Ruby and her friends have captured another Faceless Man and foiled two attempts on their lives. Without any loss of life, although Stannis's flagship apparently took some damage." Expensive damage, he hoped, since that would make Stannis have to ask Renly for the funds to repair it.
"Everyone heard this hours ago, in four different versions. Five by now, I suppose," Lady Olenna said with a snort. "I don't need it repeated so I won't forget; age hasn't yet touched my mind."
Unfortunately, Renly couldn't help thinking. The Queen of Thorns deserved her epithet, and while she did approve, or, at least, didn't disapprove, of his and Loras' relationship - and thank the Seven for that! - that didn't mean she spared either from her barbs and never missed an opportunity to claim that she had more wits than anyone else, especially her family. It was quite tiresome. But Loras loved his grandmother, so Renly would endure her.
"I was merely leading up to my actual point," he said. "Which is: How can we use this development?"
"That's a question, not a point."
"Yes. But an important question." Renly nodded, his smile growing just a smidgen sharper as he clenched his teeth before he used his cup - good wine, this one - to hide it.
"They're only a week's travel away, not gone for good." Lady Olenna dismissed the question, of course.
"But it's still a window of opportunity," his love loyally came to his aid, even if he was using one of Lady Weiss's expressions.
"An opportunity," Lady Olenna stressed, "for what? To antagonise them?"
"To…" Loras faltered for a moment. "To prepare for their permanent absence, grandmother?"
She scoffed. "You don't need to prove to me that you're my Mace's son, Loras."
Renly winced. Now, that was a barb, knowing her view of Lord Mace. He reached out and patted Loras's hand to console him.
"They will be back. If anything, the fact they survived another attempt by the Faceless Men has proved that beyond any doubt."
"But grandmother," Margaery spoke up, "They are looking for a way to return to their world. Shouldn't we prepare for that day?"
"If they ever leave." Lady Olenna scoffed. "Who would relinquish the power they hold to?"
"Lord Eddard would," Renly said with a wide smile that grew a bit more when he caught her scowl.
"Perhaps that man would. But only because he never wanted to come to King's Landing in the first place. And he is only serving at their grace, anyway," she retorted.
"So do we all," Renly added. "But surely, since everyone shares this fate, we should be able to find allies who might prepare with us."
"For a day that may never come?"
"If it never comes, what would we have lost?"
"Our lives, if word of this ever reaches those girls." Lady Olenna scoffed once more. "Everyone who earned their ire died."
"Grandmother! Do you think they killed Lord Tywin?" Margaery gasped.
"Not directly. But I find it a little suspicious that they stopped a Faceless Man when he was going after Lord Eddard and caught another when he went after them, yet Lord Tywin was poisoned under their eyes."
Renly nodded. It was only natural that you didn't do as much to protect your enemies and rivals as you did to protect your allies.
"But… if they saved Lord Tywin, he would have been in their debt," Loras pointed out.
"But he didn't need their help as much as the dwarf does. Tywin would have owed them; his son depends on them." Lady Olenna shook her head. "That is the risk we would take, should we follow your suggested course of action."
"There's no harm in talking with people, though," Renly objected. "Not as long as we are cautious."
"You wouldn't know caution if it stabbed you in the back," Lady Olena snapped. "Who do you want to talk to? Lord Eddard? He's under the girls' thumb. Your brother? He is as subtle as King Robert's warhammer! Lord Edmure? He has no presence worth mentioning at court, and he's tied to Lord Eddard. Why would he risk that? What can we promise him to oppose his good brother? Lady Arynn? She has withdrawn from court, and if she listens to anyone, it would be her family."
"So what? We should wait and hope they will leave?" Renly wasn't pouting; he was frowning.
"That worked out well for the Martells," Margaery said.
"They have different goals and ambitions. And now that their kin has been avenged, I dare say they will pivot and adapt." She looked at Renly and then at Loras. "I would suggest offering Lord Eddard a betrothal to his daughter, but you are not subtle enough for that."
Renly clenched his teeth once more and tried not to flush. He and his love were discreet!
"Lord Eddard's son is still not spoken for, grandmother."
Renly glanced at Margaery. That wasn't a subtle suggestion either!
"And you're close in age." Lady Olenna nodded. "But so is the princess. And as regent, Lord Eddard can betroth his son to the princess without having to make any concessions to the Lannisters - they need closer ties to any great house."
"But being tied to the Lannisters would be quite a predicament should the Four Maidens leave the realm," Renly said.
"Should they ever leave." Lady Olenna scoffed once more. "But if Lord Eddard plays his cards right, he could form an alliance that would not depend on them any more."
Renly emptied his cup. "You just agreed that he didn't want to stay in King's Landing."
"I did. He doesn't need to stay here if he has his daughter betrothed to the future king and the Arynns and Tullys backing him."
That would be a nightmare. The Starks, Arryns and Tullys had been the allies of Renly's house during Robert's Rebellion, and their alliance had lasted throughout Robert's reign. But if Lord Eddard replaced House Baratheon with House Lannister, then House Baratheon and House Tyrell wouldn't be able to oppose them. They would have to seek out more allies, but Stannis would expect their blind obedience, and only a fool would trust Balon Greyjoy or the Martells.
"Joining such an alliance would secure Lord Tyrion's position as well," Margaery said.
"Exactly." Lady Olenna smiled at her. "And Lord Eddard has more children to marry off."
"So, what can we do to counter this?" Renly asked.
"That is the important question, indeed." Lady Olenna beamed at him, and Renly had to clench his teeth so he wouldn't snap at her for throwing his own words back at him. "We need to either make an alliance of our own with any of them, or get into that alliance."
Well, they should manage one or the other, Renly thought.
"Lord Eddard might find his plans a bit more difficult than expected," Margaery spoke up again. "Lady Ruby and her friends have made it quite clear that they oppose forcing anyone into a marriage, and they and Lord Eddard's children are quite close."
"You think Lord Eddard will let that stop him?" Loras asked.
Lady Olenna chuckled. "He can't afford to offend Team Ruby, so he will have to step lightly when making plans. That will gain us time to counter them."
Renly smiled. Indeed, that was good news—nothing like using your enemy's strengths against them.
*****
The Red Keep, King's Landing, Crownlands, Westeros, 298 AC
Lord Tyrion Lannister shook his head when he finished reading Uncle Kevan's letter. He should have expected that even in death, his father did all he could to ruin his life, not to mention their family. If Tywin had lived, he would have ruined them. Tyrion had had no choice but to intervene - even Pycelle, his father's creature through and through, had realised that. The man had practically begged Tyrion to kill his father to save them all.
Not that Tyrion could tell his uncle that. Kevan wasn't as stubborn as Lord Stannis, - or the Four Maidens - but he would not let a kinslayer rule their house. Or live. What a hypocrite! He'd rather see the Lannisters perish than admit that Tywin had been a threat to everyone.
Of course, Kevan's son was safe from all that, being a founding member of the Ruby Order. Who was also, Tyrion was certain, the reason his uncle had 'concerns' about Tyrion's suitability as Head of House Lannister. Lancel must have told Kevan about the Maidens' suspicions… No. If he had done so, Uncle Kevan would have sent a much more strongly worded letter, hinting or outright stating that a kinslayer could not lead the family.
It seemed Lady Ruby and her friends had at least been sensible enough not to mention their suspicions to anyone else without any proof. Then again, Tyrion had already known that they detested hypocrisy, a trait which was both annoying and comforting at once, of course.
Still, he had to deal with Uncle Kevan's 'concerns'. He was the eldest of his uncles, and if he fell in line, most of the other members of the family would follow, as they had followed Father - at least for now. Tyrion would gain enough time to consolidate his still-tenuous grip on the family.
The question was, how could he achieve that? He didn't exactly know what Kevan had been told by Tywin about the situation at court; Tyrion's father hadn't kept copies of the letters he had written - no doubt because doing so would have meant he had to face his own mortality - and the letters Kevan had sent had not contained many clues that would let Tyrion deduce that information. His uncle had reported to Tywin; he had not shared advice or given counsel.
Of course, Tyrion's father hadn't been one to share much if anything, even with those he trusted, but if Tyrion lied about something Tywin had told Kevan - or even if his take on something disproved Tywin's…
He sighed. He would have to be cautious and subtle, even though his uncle responded better to blunt orders and statements.
At the very least, if Lady Ruby and her friends were as discreet as it seemed, he could exaggerate his relationship with them to some degree. Provided his uncle was aware that they were not as naive as some might think. But then, he didn't know what Lancel had written to his father, so he couldn't risk too much, either.
He scoffed. This was all his father's fault. If he had not been such a stubborn, prideful fool, if he had accepted Tyrion as his heir, none of this would have happened.
He clenched his teeth as he started writing. He would have to make an effort here as well; this wasn't something he could dictate and let a scribe put down in perfect writing.
Succeeding his father had been supposed to make things easier! At least, Tommen and Myrcella were doing fine.
*****Dragonstone, Westeros, 298 AC
"So, your weapon can change like that, but it's not magic, Lady Ruby?"
"No, it's just, well, mechanics. She's a mechashift weapon."
"'She'? Your weapon is a girl?"
"Yes! Crescent Rose is a girl!"
"Oh. Like ships are girls?"
"Ah… Yeah, like that, Kinda."
Ser Davos, keeping his distance somewhat since he wasn't an official chaperone, merely doing his duty to guard his liege's heir, smiled faintly at the exchange. Lady Shireen had taken very well to the Four Maidens. She wasn't showing any sign of her usual shyness when talking to strangers and was peppering Lady Ruby with questions about everything - from their clothes to their weapons.
And Lady Ruby was answering them all without any sign of annoyance. Well, most of them.
"So, does everyone have such a weapon in your homeland?"
"Only the Huntresses. And not even all of them. Weiss's Myrtenaster, for example, is not a mechashift weapon. Although it has a revolving magazine for Dust charges, so it's not just a sword either. Unlike the sword of Crocea Mors, that's the weapon of a friend of ours, Jaune Arc. His shield can fold up like Crescent Rose for easier carrying, but his sword has no other form - it was left to him by his great-great-grandfather, I think, so it's a pretty old weapon."
Davos made a mental note of that. They already knew about the Four Maidens' weapons having been custom-made for them - and by them, as far as he understood - but this confirmed that in their world, great weapons were also passed on inside a family. Like Valyrian swords, or blades like Ice and Dawn. Such common customs could be important for Lord Stannis when dealing with them.
"...and Uncle Qrow's weapon is called Harbinger, and it's a sword and a scythe! He helped me design Crescent Rose and trained me."
"Is he a famous knight? I mean, Huntsman?"
"Well… He's pretty well-known, I'd say. But for me and Yang, he's just our uncle, you know?" Lady Ruby shrugged. "He taught me so much, though! One day, I'll be as good as he is!"
If Lady Ruby was correct, then this 'Qrow' was probably the counterpart to Ser Barristan the Bold. Davos didn't want to imagine facing someone even stronger than the Four Maidens. The mere thought was terrifying.
Lady Shireen, however, was beaming. "Do you have any stories about his deeds, my lady?"
"Oh, boy!" Lady Ruby chuckled, although a little embarrassed, it seemed. "I've got stories, but he's pretty tight-lipped about what he does. He doesn't like to brag. And he wouldn't take me along on a real hunt, so I never saw him go all-out - he doesn't have to go all-out when we hunt some Beowolves on Patch."
"Beowolves?"
"Those are Grimm," Lady Ruby explained. "The monsters we fight as Huntresses."
"Oh. You mentioned them before."
"Yeah. Beowolves are like, well… not really like, but they are about the same size as a direwolf, I guess."
"Like Ghost?" Lady Shireen smiled again, and Davos couldn't stop himself from flinching. The girl had also become fond of Ser Jon's wolf. Fortunately, Lady Selyse had managed to keep both away from her so far; the thought of a beast that could probably bite Lady Shireen's head off if it decided to, and far too quickly for any guard to stop it, made Davos ill.
"Not like Ghost," Lady Ruby corrected her. "Ghost is still growing. Beowolves are larger. And they have bone armour of sorts as well."
Even larger? And armoured? They sounded terrifying.
"And you fight them?"
"Yeah. They're pretty much the weakest Grimm you meet. Well, there are smaller Grimm, but they tend to come in swarms or grow larger as they age, so Beowolves are the most common, err, common Grimm." Lady Ruby shrugged. "They're pretty easy to kill."
"For you, maybe, my lady." Lady Shireen showed some cheek.
"Ah, for any Huntress in training, actually. They're not that tough, unless they come in a pack. Or they're an Alpha Beowolf. Those are larger and more dangerous because they are smarter."
"Oh!"
Davos winced again. He didn't begrudge Lady Shireen the experience of talking with people who saw past her scars and were genuinely friendly, quite the opposite; the girl deserved every bit of happiness, but Lady Ruby's tales were, perhaps, not the best choice for a young girl. Lord Stannis would likely agree with that judgment.
And yet, Davos couldn't bring himself to intervene. And not because he, technically, was merely acting as a guard. Seeing Lady Shireen smile like that was simply too endearing.
*****
The Red Keep, King's Landing, Crownlands, Westeros, 298 AC
'...and they are still going over the books Maester Cressen showed them, though neither he nor I can say if this will help them with their goals.'
Lord Stannis Baratheon lowered the letter from his wife. It seemed that the visit of the Four Maidens had gone as he had expected. They had caught the assassin, who would be judged as was proper by Stannis once he returned to Dragonstone to hold court, and they were now looking through his library in their search to return home. That his flagship had been damaged was annoying, though that had been a risk he knowingly took when he ordered Ser Davos to ferry them, and he couldn't rightfully blame them for this.
Even though he loathed that he would have to ask his brother for the funds to repair the ship. Renly had a duty to provide Stannis with the funds needed to do his duty, yet he acted far too often as if any gold paid to the Fleet was a gift he was bestowing on Stannis. Just thinking about his smug airs made Stannis want to grind his teeth. That his little brother was so close to the Tyrells, who had almost starved them both during Robert's Rebellion, made it worse, of course. What was wrong with Renly to abandon his own kin for those people?
No matter. Stannis would do his duty. That was all that mattered in the end. If he had to endure his younger brother's quips and barbs, then he would. And if Renly declined to do his duty, Stannis would inform the regent. Unlike Robert, Lord Eddard would not let anyone get away with shirking their duties.
Unless, of course, Lady Ruby and her friends demanded it, he added silently. Despite having proof of the Queen's incest with her brother, Lord Eddard had gone along with Team Ruby's declaration that Tommen and Myrcella were Robert's children. Stannis felt his ire rise just thinking about it.
The girls had had proof that had condemned Cersei and her brother and had kept it secret for months. They not only knew about Robert's bastards; they had taken one of them into their order! And a bastard who looked like Robert in his youth! How could they claim that they lacked enough proof that all of Cersei's children were bastards? What was their intention? What had they planned?
Lady Ruby wasn't looking to rule as queen. If she were, she would have had ample opportunities to replace Cersei. Were they trying to rule as the power behind the throne? They already did from the moment they had demonstrated their true power. Only a fool would declare otherwise. They didn't need anyone's help for that, either.
So, why were they protecting the bastards? Stannis, if he took the throne that was by right and law his, would be serving at their pleasure as well - and didn't that make him clench and grind his teeth.
Had Robert been right? Did the four maidens truly intend nothing else but a return to their home? Robert had always been better with people than Stannis, but surely, this couldn't be right? If they were so intent on returning home, why bother with meddling at court in the first place?
They had said they considered it their duty as 'Huntresses' to save and protect people in need. Stannis understood what duties meant, yet would they really feel responsible for a different world, with different customs, that they wanted to leave since their arrival?
Melisandre had told him that they had been sent to cleanse the world from the taint of the Others and had done so. And that her god had ordered her to help them. But had she been truthful? Stannis was no fool; he knew the woman had plans and plots of her own and knew how to twist words to get her way - and that she would abandon him, even betray him, as soon as it was convenient.
He almost wished that this was the truth. Because if Melisandre was honest with him, if the High Septon had not been bribed, if this was true about Team Ruby, if they had been sent by the gods, then…
…then that might mean that he was wrong and Tommen and Myrcella were his kin and not Lannister bastards. Because the Lannisters certainly wouldn't receive any favour from any of the gods known to man.
And that he couldn't stand.
*****
The House of Black and White, Braavos, Essos, 298 AC
The men had failed. The kindly man knew it before word from Westeros reached him. Him of Many Faces had told him so.
But Him of Many Faces hadn't told him whether or not that meant that the girls were marked by him or not. The kindly man didn't know if that meant that he should send out more men to give His gift to the girls or not. Or if he should send more men to receive His gift at the hands of the girls or not.
His ways were often only clear in hindsight. That was the man's burden - the kindly man's, and every man's. To serve or die. Or to serve and die. Sometimes because of a mistake, sometimes because a man had been marked.
The kindly man could send more men. Easily. The kindly man knew where the men were. The kindly man knew which man would follow the order. And the kindly man knew which man wouldn't.
But the kindly man did not know which man was right. Him of Many Faces had told the kindly man to serve. To give His gift to those who needed. And the kindly man had served. And given gifts.
And yet, the kindly man had never been so torn. Were those girls to serve or to die?
Were the girls those who would serve His gift to those who needed it most? Or were they those who needed it most?
Three times, the gift had been prepared. Three times, the girls had refused. Was that a sign that they were to serve, not to receive His gift?
The kindly man didn't know. And the kindly man needed to know.
The kindly man would need to pray once again. And hope Him of Many Faces would answer, even if it was a mere hint.
*****
The Red Keep, King's Landing, Crownlands, Westeros, 298 AC
"Look, Gendry! I finally did it! I di-ah!"
Gendry Storm winced when he saw Lady Arya lose control of his bike and fall down. "You need to keep your hands on the handlebars," he told her.
"I was!" She pouted as she got up, patting her leggings to brush off the sand and dust on them.
"Both hands," he clarified.
"Lady Yang only uses one hand," she retorted with a deeper pout.
"You aren't Lady Yang, and you should not take her as an example to emulate."
She frowned at him. "That's stupid!"
"That's what the Four Maidens told us themselves," he corrected her. "They said we should not measure ourselves against them since they had advantages we lacked." Such as a divine blessing. "We should only measure ourselves against ourselves, and do our best."
Arya narrowed her eyes at him. "Did they really say that?"
"Yes." Lady Ruby had given a whole speech about it as well.
Arya scoffed. "I want to be as strong as they are!"
"So do I," he admitted. Who wouldn't? They could defeat any foe, anywhere. Nothing could withstand their power. "But we won't. They're from a different world, and the sooner you accept that, the happier you'll be."
She frowned at him again. "Who said that?"
Gendry had, to Lancel, but he didn't say that. Arya would dismiss it. "A wise man. I forgot the name," he lied.
"Someone from the world of the Maidens?"
He shrugged. "Perhaps."
"Oh."
He felt guilty at the deception.
"I'd rather be strong than happy," she said.
Oh, for… "What good is it to be strong but not happy?"
"How can you be happy if you aren't strong?" she shot back.
That was a good question. But Gendry had an answer. "That's why the Order was founded. So everyone, weak and strong, can be happy. We protect the weak if they need us and fight the strong if they abuse their power."
"That would be easier if you were stronger."
"Yes. But it would be harder if we were unhappy. Dark thoughts draw trouble," he quoted Lady Yang.
"Hm." Arya clearly didn't want to agree with him, but she didn't seem to have an answer to that, either.
Gendry grinned at her expression. "Now, let's try again, shall we? You wanted to learn how to ride my bike, didn't you?"
"Yes!"
*****
North of Lhazar, Dothraki Sea, Essos, 299 AC
"Only death can pay for life."
Princess Daenerys Targaryen remembered the words as she watched the last flames of the pyre that had taken the body of her husband and the life of the witch who had murdered him slowly die down.
"Khaleesi…"
She slowly turned her head. Ser Jorah stood behind her, at a respectful distance. His eyes kept flicking between her and the dragons resting on her shoulders and head.
She chuckled. "They are my children. They will not hurt you." Or anyone else sworn to her. Not unless they tried to hurt her children or herself.
"I do not fear them, Khaleesi," he replied.
She didn't know if he was lying or not. It didn't matter. He respected her and her dragons, and he had proven his loyalty. "You don't have to fear them," she said. "If not for you, I would have been dead at that assassin's hand."
He nodded, but she saw a shade of guilt cross his face. It puzzled her - was he feeling guilty that the assassin had managed to smuggle a poisoned blade into her presence? Ser Jorah had called him out - and struck him down before he had been able to use that blade against her. He had no grounds to feel guilty, but men were often both too proud and too shy about their deeds.
"What will you do now?" he asked.
She gently rubbed Drogon's throat, and the dragon hissed in response. Ser Jorah flinched, and she smiled at him. "He's pleased, not angry."
"Ah."
She looked at the last embers of the pyre again. It felt as if her own life, her old life, had ended with it. As if she had been reborn in the same flames her dragons had been hatched. Reborn, but for what?
"Khaleesi?"
She glanced around. Most of her husband's khalasar had disappeared shortly after he had fallen. Yet many still remained. Those loyal. And those desperate. Those who had none but her to follow. Those who needed her protection.
And her protection they would have. Hers, and her children's.
She turned to look into Ser Jorah's eyes. "Tell me again what you have heard from Westeros. About those Maidens who have taken over the realm."
He nodded. "As you wish, Khaleesi. As far as my contact knows, they appeared in the North, claiming to have been sent there accidentally by magic."
Not too long ago, she would have scoffed at such a claim. But now? Having seen, felt and experienced magic, both for good and ill? She would be a fool to deny this claim.
"They made their way to the wall and then to Winterfell, where they became guests of Lord Stark until the usurper arrived, and…"
*****
The Red Keep, King's Landing, Crownlands, Westeros, 299 AC
Lord Eddard Stark wanted to sigh as he listened to the latest grievance brought before him. Two minor lords of the Crownlands, squabbling over a field that was, as both agreed, barely useful to let goats graze. Not cows, those would eat the wrong herbs and get sick. And yet, they had almost started a feud over it, if not for a courageous septon passing through who had spoken to both and urged them to seek a ruling from the crown.
Ned had handled such cases, quite a few, but in this case, both lords were swearing that the field had been inherited by them from their ancestors, and Ned had only their word for it - no impartial witnesses could give testimony, and the Grand Maester had not found any records in the archives which could have shed some light on this.
So, who was he to believe? One of them must be lying, yet both seemed equally honest. And what if one of them had been lied to about their claim by their father? Or their grandfather, or an even older ancestor? What if both honestly believed that they were the rightful owner of the field? How could he rule honourably if he couldn't determine what was right and true? And on the day when he was showing Prince Tommen how to hold court, no less.
He glanced at the boy. Prince Tommen was paying rapt attention as one of the lords kept going on about the field having served once for a wedding.
"...and my great-great-grandfather's wedding was held there! Why would he marry in a foreign field?"
"Because he married my great-great-grandaunt, you fool! My great-great-great-great-grandfather had the wedding on the field since it linked both our lands!"
He couldn't just rule the field be split; not a few lords would think that by claiming a piece of land, they could get half with a similar ruling, and they'd see feuds breaking out all over the realm. Ned played with the idea of taking the field for the crown, but that wouldn't be honourable - and set a precedent that would see most lords fear that their lands might be taken, using a wrong claim as a pretext. Ned couldn't leave such a future rebellion to Tommen. And yet, he had to make a decision before tempers grew even more heated. Oh, maybe…
"Who was using the field before your dispute broke out?" he asked when both lords fell silent for a moment, red faces scowling at each other.
Both turned to him.
"It lay fallow most of the time."
"A miller used it to grow herbs, but he was killed in the Rebellion, and the mill burnt down. By, ah, the Northern host, if the tales are true."
Ned suppressed another sigh. So much for returning the field to whoever had used it last. Oh. He smiled. "Well, I have my ruling. You both shall rebuild the mill and leave the field to whoever rents it, sharing the money you get from the mill."
The two noblemen nodded. They didn't praise him for it, but they didn't seem to dislike it enough to protest or otherwise voice their dissatisfaction either.
It wasn't that much better than splitting the field, but restoring what had been there before would lessen the resentment. People were much more willing to accept how things had been than a fresh change.
Something he'd have to teach the prince, lest he'd follow in King Aegon V's footsteps, whose changes to the law and customs of the realm had been undone as soon as the Mad King had taken the crown - mere three years after Aegon's death.
And yet, for all the annoyance those two lords had caused him, compared to navigating the tensions at court, settling their grievances had been painfully simple.
"Was that it, Lord Eddard?"
Ned smiled at the boy. "Yes, that was the last case, Your Grace."
"Oh. And you have to do that every day?"
"Not quite. Usually once per week." A busier schedule than in Winterfell.
"Oh. So, I'll have to do that once I am King."
"Yes, Your Grace."
The Prince frowned. "Father didn't do that often, I think. Lord Jon usually did it, right?"
Ned was slightly surprised - he hadn't thought the boy was aware of how much Robert had depended on Jon. "Yes."
"Ah."
"You will have to find a trusted Hand, once you're King, Your Grace," he said.
Now the boy looked confused. "Won't you be my Hand?" When Ned frowned, he added: "That's what people are saying. And that I'll marry Lady Sansa."
Ned would have to look into this. "Who is saying this?"
"People I've heard talking. I don't know their names."
This time, Ned showed his surprise. "You overheard them?" Who was talking about such things near the boy?
"Yes. I was tracking down Ser Huntress through her favourite places behind curtains and inside the walls, and overheard people talking on the other side of the wall."
"I see. And was someone with you?" A member of the Kingsguard was supposed to be with him at all times.
"They were outside the door, and I didn't want to call them for a quick trip."
"Ah." Ned would have to have a talk with Ser Barristan and the servants of the royal family about this. "You shouldn't leave your Kingsguard behind. It's not safe," he said. The boy had too many enemies.
The Prince pouted. "I just wanted to get my cat back. And I couldn't ask anyone else - Ser Huntress only listens to me."
On the one hand, it was good to see the boy be active and do things instead of having them done by servants. A good King couldn't leave everything to others, or he'd be easily isolated and fooled by his courtiers. But Tommen was far too young for such adventures. Jon had taught that lesson to Ned and Robert, back when they had been fostered at the Eyrie and had ventured into the sky cells. "Well, they just have to be close. They don't have to be right next to you."
"Ah." The boy nodded. After a moment, he spoke up again: "So, was it true what I heard?"
Ned shook his head. "The only one who decides who will be your Hand is you, once you are King, Your Grace."
"And about the betrothal?"
Ned winced. By law, he could decide that. But if he did betroth the Prince and Sansa, he would be abusing his position as the Regent; he had to act in Prince Tommen's best interest, not in his own. Even though it was doubtful whether such a betrothal was in his interest to begin with; it would make enemies of at least half the realm. And Lady Ruby and her friends wouldn't be pleased, either. "That, too, will be your decision," he said.
"Oh." The boy blinked. "And Myrcella?"
"The same goes for her," Ned replied.
The Prince smiled. "She will be happy she can decide that."
Ned winced. He had meant that the Prince would decide that. And yet, when he saw the boy smile, he couldn't make himself correct him. Besides, if the boy could, once he was a man, decide who his sister would marry, he could also let her decide that.
Ned still felt guilty for letting the misunderstanding stand. But it was one less worry for the boy.
He just hoped Lord Tyrion wouldn't bring it up at their next meeting; the new Head of House Lannister was usually far more affable than his father, but he could be far more annoying as well, if he took offence at something or someone.
*****
Haunted Forest, The North, Westeros, 299 AC
"...and yes, in our homeland, a woman - or a girl - decides who they marry. And boys and girls have the same rights. That's why Weiss is the heiress of her family even though she has a younger brother."
"So, like Dorne, my lady?"
"I think so? I've never been to Dorne. Oh, look at the raven!"
Brynden cawed a curse as he took off from the ornate statue behind which he had been perched and flew away. Lady Ruby had, once again, spotted him. He didn't know how she managed it - he had been sure he was hidden from view. Maybe he needed to pick a smaller bird to spy on the girls who could hide more easily, but a smaller bird would risk being preyed upon by other animals - even crows were not safe, and Bryden could do without experiencing claws piercing his feathered chest and smashing him into the ground.
"Another failure?"
He slowly turned his head to glare at Leaf. She was far too amused by his repeated misadventures. He would prefer it if the girls killed the birds they spotted; at least then, he'd know they saw him as a threat, or, at least, as someone worthy to be sent a message. Instead, they merely let him know they spotted him, leaving him to wonder whether he had truly spied on them or merely observed what they wanted him to see. "They remain on Dragonstone, searching through the library there."
"They won't find what they seek there." Leaf wasn't smiling any more; she looked at him with reproach in her eyes.
She wanted him to tell them about the 'place the gods visited in the past', as she called it. He didn't. "I still don't know if they can be trusted." He had said so before, and he would say so again. As long as he didn't know if telling them about the ruins Leaf's friends had found would lead to an invasion from a world filled with monsters worse than those girls, he would not risk telling them about it.
"You won't ever know if all you do is spy on them. Or attempt to," Leaf retorted. "You need to look at what they did, what they caused, to get their measure."
She had told him so before. But she believed that the girls were the Messengers of the Seven. Brynden didn't. And if he did… why would he trust the Seven? He knew who had burned the godswoods in the South, and they hadn't ridden dragons. "I have spied on the High Septon and know he cannot be trusted. He wishes to spread their faith even more." And that was the fault of the girls.
"We thought the same of the First Men, when they came to take our land."
"Things have changed since then."
"Yes. And things are changing now, as well. Everything changes. Those who don't will die as the world leaves them behind."
Brynden gave her a look. He was stuck to a heart tree.
"Change happens in your heart and mind."
Of course, Leaf would say that. But she didn't see what he did.
"You cannot dither forever, Brynden. No one can stand against the will of the gods."
He knew that. But he also knew that no one would ever truly know the will of the gods. Not even someone as old as Leaf.