chapter 18

I was glad to see Rosamond Lannister had finally come out of her rooms. The strangulation bruises had long since healed, and now her issues were purely due to the mental trauma. She no longer made eye contact and was as meek as a mouse. I could tell that Elena was troubled by the change in character. She tried to engage the youngest of my handmaidens with conversation, but it was a one-sided affair.

Rosyn questioned me about what I had been up to lately and I expounded on one of the more boring texts I had used when researching what could be beneficial to the Night's Watch. Truly dry material and watching Rosyn's eyes glaze over was a petty, and satisfying, response. I didn't know where Elena Westerling's loyalty lay, but it was clear Rosyn Lannett was my mother's primary informant.

Brienne sat within giving her line of sight of both the door to the sitting room as well as me. I was quite proud of how far she'd come. I missed having quality subordinates; I should really see about getting more that I can train and mold. My station made this difficult; a princess wanting to do odd, borderline childish, training games with her sworn shield was queer but not overly concerning. A princess trying to create her own private guard and train them as effectively as I would, is another.

A distant howl split the air, joined by a second one less than a half second later. The overlapping howls carried and echoed. They were coming from the Tower of the Hand. Wolves did howl, but I had never heard the direwolves like this. It made me uneasy. Their ability to sense when I used magic was reason to believe they had some sort of supernatural awareness. If they did, what did these howls mean?

I put down the stitches I was working on. "Ladies I'm sorry to cut our time short but I'm curious what is going on with the direwolves and will investigate the Tower of the Hand."

"But we haven't finished here," Rosyn protested.

I really didn't care but I smiled all the same. "Do not worry; I will finish later. Please excuse me." I did enjoy my ability to just get up and leave whenever I felt like it. Rosyn almost seemed ready to follow but she did not.

Walking through the Royal Apartments with Brienne I noticed more guards about than usual. I was curious but not as curious as I was about the wolves, who were continuing to howl. As I neared the entrance, Captain Tregar had half a score of men at the front instead of the usual four. I went to leave, but the Lannister captain stepped in my way.

"Forgive me, princess, but the Queen has ordered everyone to stay in Maegor's Holdfast."

I nodded. "I assure you Captain Tregar that those orders do not include me."

"The Queen said no one."

I looked him square in the eye. "Captain, if I must drag my mother here, I will not be able to shield you from the consequences."

The man shifted uneasily from foot to foot. "And you do have your mother's permission to be out?"

"Of course." And then I walked forward and the good captain moved out of the way. Brienne trailed behind me and after we were out of ear shot asked me why I had lied.

"Mother never informed me that I was to stay here, which means her default instruction apply, and customarily, I may leave here at will if I return before dark and have adequate protection. There was no lie. Besides, something odd is afoot. It is hard to explain; it is like an itch that I cannot scratch. The smell of thunder before it arrives."

Soon enough, we arrived at the Tower of the Hand.

"Good day Donnis, Harwin," I greeted the two Stark guardsmen at the entrance to the tower.

"Your Grace." They intoned and nodded their heads respectfully. Harwin asked, "Here to see Arya?"

"Yes, is all well?" I gestured in the direction of the still steady howling.

Harwin shrugged. "We don't know what to make of it. They don't seem injured, but they keep up the noise. 'Least it is during the day. Don't know if I could sleep with it."

I could imagine that would be difficult. Harwin escorted me in and grabbed Porther and Tomard to be my minders when I visited Arya. Soon enough Brienne, the two guards and I joined Arya in her room.

"Myrcella!" Arya called out and rushed to greet me.

She hugged me, not something I enjoyed, but it would be damaging to our relationship if I rebuffed her. Further into the room, I saw both direwolves chained to the far wall.

"What ails Nymeria and Lady?"

"We don't know; they don't have any wounds, and they don't look sick. They went wild trying to get out of the rooms. They snapped at the guards but didn't try to hurt them. I had to calm them both down enough to get the chains around their collars." Arya was clearly worried. "They seem to do better when I'm in the room with them and only howl a bit, but when I leave, they start going wild! Pulling and yanking and even trying to bite through the chain. I don't know what to do!"

I put a hand on her shoulder. "You are doing what you can. I suspect they will eventually tire out. Why don't I keep you company here?"

Arya scrubbed at her face to hide her eyes welling. I imagine it was rather stressful to experience your close companion, and your sister's close companion acting in a bizarre and potentially dangerous fashion. Mother had not made things easier with her threats to the wolves after the incident with Joffrey.

And so Tomard, Porther, Brienne, Arya, and I settled down and kept each other company. A servant came by with some food. As was my usual habit I avoided eating anything until a few minutes after Arya had eaten. I did my best to pick subjects that could take Arya's mind off the wolves. I mentioned an interest in what she thought of the Wall and what stories her Uncle Benjen had shared with her.

Arya wasn't a great font of information. She knew all the fanciful stories and legends that I had already read up on. She did not know much about the day-to-day life of a Black Brother. Benjen likely thought that sort of minutia was not something that would be enjoyable conversation with a young niece; it made sense. I let Arya talk and prompted her to keep talking, and soon even the howls no longer made her glance over worriedly.

What was going on with them? At one point I even spun up my reflex enchantments and Lady looked at me, but only for a moment. Hmm, whatever it was, it was more interesting to them than whatever I was doing. Was someone else using magic? If the direwolves had some sort of magical sensor and it detected something far beyond my abilities that was a grave concern. Was Duty also howling? That would disrupt the hunt if he was. Poor Bran, that would be quite the embarrassment. I'd have to question him on his return.

***

Renly was still in a state of shock as dozens of riders came at them. He drew his blade as he saw everyone spring into action around him. The Stark boy's direwolf proved its worth by disrupting the charge. Renly and his two guards rode toward his brother. Arrows were fired from horseback. He saw one of the Royce squires go down with an arrow in the chest. Suddenly feeling quite naked, he gritted his teeth and leaned into his horse.

Barristan's mount leaped in front of the King and his sword slashed an arrow out of the air. The first rider struck out at him with an axe, which Barristan easily met. In a flash, he had cut open his opponent's face. Renly had his own foe to deal with, and the man struck at him with a sword. The King's brother parried, and then the rider was past him while another thundered forward. Twisting in his saddle, he nearly took a blow, but instincts from lessons in his youth managed to keep him safe for the moment.

Robert let out a roar and speared a man fully off his horse with a mighty thrust. Steel clashed against steel. Baratheon and Lannister guards weathered the charge, but one of each were taken down. Renly lost track of the larger battle as the chaos took over. His horse gave a cry of pain as it was impaled, and Renly rolled off and away to avoid being crushed beneath it.

An arrow narrowly missed him as he struggled to his feet. He heard the Imp's voice cry out, "There are more coming! Make for the thickest part of the wood; it's our only hope!"

Renly heard the horns again, some from behind, and then others more distantly off to the north-east. Barristan had cut a path around the King. Ser Boros had arrived and cut down two of the riders. Robar Royce lay unmoving on the ground, and Lancel Lannister had a nasty slash to his head that was bleeding grievously.

The riders circled around for another charge, though now they seemed far more hesitant. Ser Balon Swann continued to methodically launch arrow after arrow with deadly accuracy.

"Come at me you cowards! FACE THE FURY!" Robert roared and demanded they come at him. He was red faced with rage and exertion. Renly moved closer to his brother. "Robert, Tyrion is right, we can't stay here."

Ser Barristan rode to his side, "They fear attacking until they have greater numbers. We must be away, Your Grace."

The riders lost another man before they fanned out in a wide circle outside of Ser Balon's range. Renly took his dead guard's horse to replace his own, while Robert took Robar's. Lord Yohn Royce's face was a mask of rage at the death of his son. Ser Barristan picked a direction, and the enemy riders on that edge of the circle melted away rather than face The Bold's charge. As the party moved into the woods, Renly could see that they were being trailed in the distance, and every now and then, they could hear a horn signal.

The Kingswood had areas of heavy growth and areas of sparser vegetation. Now they were seeking the thickest part of the wood. Renly did a quick count of who was left. The servants and huntsmen had been easy targets. Some of them had fled when the riders attacked, but most were likely slain.

The remaining squires would count for little, with Bran and Tyrek too young to be important. The Imp likewise wouldn't be very useful in a fight. Lancel looked out of it and was still bleeding. Two guards, two Kingsguard, two Royces, a direwolf, Ser Balon and Robert himself were the only real fighters left. They had left a dozen dead foes and made the rest wary. Renly still felt despair; there would be no help to come from King's Landing until the next day at the earliest.

"They are following, but at a distance," Ser Balon announced.

Ser Barristan paused and then led them in a slightly different direction. "Do you know where you are going, Ser?" Renly asked.

"I do."

Bran looked pale from the bloody battle, but he spoke up. "Ser Barristan fought the Kingswood Brotherhood here; I bet he knows the perfect place to get away from them."

Renly didn't share the boy's desperate optimism. Again, the blasted horns sounded. Closer and closer.

The dwarf looked around. "When the rest get here, they will attack, and despite our stalwart protectors, I don't like these odds. We should split up and drive the horses as fast as they can into the deep wood, and hopefully the trails will get confused. No doubt some will die, but better a few of us escape than none, yes?"

Renly was passable with the bow, and he didn't mind hunting. It was a noble pursuit, but he had no sense of direction or woodcraft. He would be hopeless without a guide, just wandering aimlessly and likely to run into their pursuers. Though, clearly, they weren't just bandits. This was an assassination attempt.

A scream was heard behind them and a howl. Renly looked to the Stark boy, whose head was looking over his shoulder. Oh, his direwolf was hunting their hunters. That was good. He had always wondered why Robert was enamored with the Starks. He would always go on about how wonderful his good friend Ned was, but now he could see the use of these Northerners.

Ser Barristan replied to the diminutive Lannister, "Not a terrible plan, but the place of the Kingsguard is with the King. If you wish to go off in another direction, you do so without Ser Boros or me."

Renly saw Ser Boros about to object, but the overweight knight had second thoughts and remained quiet.

"No," Robert said quietly. "You need to get Bran to safety, Barristan. I won't have Ned's boy dead because those Targaryen bastards finally mustered the nerve to come after me."

The old knight shook his head vehemently. "Your Grace, you can't…"

"Can't? Can't? Oh, but you are a bold one, aren't you!" Robert laughed. "Don't disobey me, or I'll turn this horse around and charge straight at those shits. The Imp's plan is good. You take Bran and Tyrek and get them out of here. Ser Boros, Ser Balon and Yohn Royce are with me. Renly, Andar, and Lancel can go with the Imp."

Renly didn't much like that. He was partially irritated that Robert placed Bran's safety over his own kin, but that wasn't the greatest part of Renly's unease. Andar and the remaining guards would be the only real fighters between him and the enemy; he'd feel much better with Ser Barristan around. However, the King had spoken, and time was of the essence. Renly found himself riding with Tyrion. "You tend to have your wits about you; what else can we do?"

Tyrion looked at him incredulously. "Do you think I'm an expert hunter? I'll try to think of something, but do not expect much."

Renly was afraid he would never see Loras's beautiful smile again. He gripped the reins of the unfamiliar horse tighter and sent a rare prayer to the Seven."

***

Jaime was guarding Cersei, which meant eating and drinking with her in the Royal Apartments. She looked radiant today. Happy and free of the stress that had ailed her for the last few months. Not even the howling of the wolves seemed to upset her. The sounds had echoed strangely, almost hauntingly throughout the Red Keep. The creatures were freaks, and though he knew Myrcella was fond of them, he too wished they were not in the city. When he saw that they were not disturbing Cersei, Jaime was content just looking upon her flawless elegance. His gaze was interrupted from a knock on the door.

One of the pages greeted him, holding a sheet of folded parchment. He brought it over to Cersei, who read it, and then she laughed.

"Finally! We will finally be free of that oaf!" Her ear-to-ear grin was made of pure delight. Jaime could not a recall a time in the last decade where she seemed as gleeful.

"What do you mean, sister?"

She came in close and kissed him. "I mean that all my long preparations and planning have paid off. By sundown, Robert and his brother will be dead, and our son's reign will begin!"

Jaime felt himself grow cold. What had Cersei done?

"Cersei, what do you mean; what have you done?"

"It is so freeing finally being able to tell you. Littlefinger was paranoid, certain that the Spider would learn of the plot if we weren't ridiculously careful. I've solved all our problems. Hired swords and riders will soon fall upon the hunting party."

Jaime couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Our brother is with them!"

"Worry not; I gave orders for the little Imp and our other kin not to be harmed."

Jaime looked at his lover in horror. She had no idea of the chaos of battle and how easily someone could fall to a stray arrow, be thrown from a horse or even if her commands would be heeded.

"Who is executing the order?"

She waved her hand dismissively. "Free riders, sell swords and the like. Littlefinger made the arrangements. He has some from the Vale and others he had hired from the dregs of King's Landing. There were so many fools coming for the tournament, it was easy to find those who wanted coin. It was expensive but worth it.

These are not the type of people who would take care when assaulting a group. Worry for his brother filled him.

"They will talk. There will be an investigation. Lord Stark will…"

Cersei laughed at him. A pulse of rage thrummed in his veins, and it must have appeared upon his face.

"Forgive me, brother, but I am no fool. We will pin Robert's death on Stark. Even as we speak, Jason Slynt is marching hundreds of his Gold Cloaks to 'arrest' him. Only, he will resist, and he and his entire retinue will be killed."

The Kingslayer had to blink a few times. His entire retinue?

"Cersei, this is madness. A simple arrest wouldn't lead to a massacre; no one will believe it."

"Foolish brother, I've thought of everything. And it wasn't madness; it was necessity. He knew about us. He was going to take it to Robert. I had no choice but to act. But you worry for nothing. Remember, I will be the Queen Regent when Joffrey is crowned. Even if someone suspects, what can they possibly do?"

"Robert still has a brother out of our reach. The North will never believe the honorable Eddard Stark had a hand in murdering the King. This will mean war, and the Riverlands will rise as well, and so will the Vale."

His sister's face lost its smile. "I know the game of thrones, brother. All you know is how to fight, and you are exceedingly good at it, but you know little of these matters. With Sansa as our hostage and…"

"Just Sansa?"

"Yes, just Sansa. Bran and Arya will die." Her face took on a feral appearance of anticipation.

This was monstrous, even for her.

"Why?"

Her face took on a harsher cast, and her voice dripped venom. "They were seducing my children from me. Tommen cared more about his new playmate than his family! Myrcella was plotting to marry Robb Stark. My own children's loyalty was being taken from me by these savage imbeciles." In a calmer tone, she continued. "Both of the little wildlings threatened my Joffrey; it is a bad precedent for that to be allowed. In truth, I had wanted Sansa killed too, but Baelish raised distinct merits in having a hostage. With the death of two of Lady Stark's children, she will be even more frantic to have her daughter kept safe. The North will fall in line."

He doubted it. What in the seven hells was Littlefinger's game? There would be no hope of peace with the North after this. If Eddard had known about him and Cersei, then he had to die, but this seemed too rash with too many risks. And his brother was caught in the middle of it.

"Why didn't you tell Tyrion not to go on the hunt?"

She shrugged, "When has the little monster ever listened to me?"

"I could have told him. If I had asked his company for one reason or another, he would have joined me instead."

She took a handful of grapes from the table and popped one in her mouth. "What's done is done. I'm sure Tyrion will be safe."

"I am NOT sure of this Cersei. I am going after my brother."

"You can't; the Gold Cloaks have been ordered to shut the city gates and let no one through."

It was Jaime's turn to scoff. "You think the City Watch will turn away a sworn brother of the Kingsguard? I am taking half of the Lannister guard and will ride to the Kingswood."

"You will not. I need the Red Cloaks here to guard the family and to ensure no one else gets ideas in the chaos. Between the Tyrell guards with Loras and Renly's men-at-arms, they number fifty."

"And we have over a hundred here. And you have the sword shields and the remaining Kingsguard."

"This is foolish; Tyrion will be fine."

"Words are wind. If he is to be fine, I would rather know it sooner than later."

He went to leave, but Cersei barred his path.

"Cersei, enough. You have the Gold Cloaks as well. Move."

"Jaime! Even with haste, it is over half a day's ride away. Don't be an idiot."

They stared at each other, face to face, and but inches apart. Finally, he gently, but firmly, laid hands on her and physically moved her to the side.

"I'll send Ser Arys to watch over you in my absence."

Cersei gave a cry and tried to slap at him, but Jaime ignored her and walked out the door. His sister didn't embarrass herself by chasing after him, and he was grateful for that. He couldn't believe how lackadaisical his sister was being with the life of Tyrion, Lancel, and Tyrek. They were kin!

"Captain Tregar, ready 30 of your best riders." Jaime commanded when he reached the captain of the Lannister household guard in the capital.

"My Lord, we were told to…"

"Yes, I am aware of my sister's orders. I do not care; you will have thirty men ready to ride within fifteen minutes."

The man hesitated for only a second before agreeing. Soon enough, they were riding out. Jaime could see scores and scores of Gold Cloaks in the courtyard in front of the Tower of the Hand. The Stark wolves were still howling, and sounds of fighting could now be heard. The servants in the Red Keep were lying low, and shouts of alarm rang out here and there. He wondered how many Eddard would take with him before succumbing to numbers.

Mounted and ready, he took his men to the gates, and there nearly a hundred Gold Cloaks barred his path. Their captain wore a castle-forged steel breastplate and a full helm instead of the regular chain mail.

"Halt! In the name of the Queen, these gates are to remain closed."

Jaime nearly laughed at the absurdity.

"Open the gate and be quick about it. You know who I am, and the King may be in danger."

The man hesitated. "Ser Jaime, I have very explicit orders. If you would wait for me to send a rider, I can confirm it is acceptable to let you pass…"

"Let ME pass? You have one minute to give the order to open the gates or I will strike you down. Even should you think your numbers would allow you to prevail against me, what do you think the Queen or my father will do to you and your families if I am injured or slain here?"

It took two seconds for the Gold Cloak captain to give the order, the King's Gate was opened, and Jaime rode out with his Red Cloaks for the Kingswood.

***

For the first hour that Brienne had been there, she had looked worried at the direwolves and the chain that held them. It looked sturdy enough, but she knew how strong regular wolves could be. Direwolves, even adolescent ones, seemed even fiercer. But beyond howling, they were not doing much and so Brienne relaxed her guard, if only a bit.

The two Stark guards seemed uncomfortable listening in on Myrcella and Arya. Brienne still did not know why the Hand would go to such extremes. Lord Stark had a reputation for honor, and it had led to some quarrel with the King, but all seemed to have been put to rights, with the man once more wearing the badge of office. So why then the queerness of posting guards with his children whenever Myrcella came to call on them?

She was broken from her musing by shouts, followed by a cry. The wolves stopped howling, and they cocked their ears, and more shouts could be heard. Alongside the voices, the distinctive echo of steel on steel made Brienne stand upright. The wolves began snarling and pulling on their chains.

There were no windows in this room. Myrcella strained to hear and looked annoyed at the wolves when their snarls rendered her attempts moot. They were drowning out further sound. Had a spar gone wrong?

"Let's go see what happened," Myrcella said, and Brienne opened the door. The hallway stretched to the right and the left. They could hear more steel clashing coming from the lower levels of the Tower of the Hand.

"Winterfell!" A cry echoed up from the nearby staircase.

"Arya, stay in the room." Myrcella's voice clipped out in a measured voice. "Brienne, with me."

Myrcella strode toward the stairs, and Brienne overtook her with her longer stride. Down one flight, she saw two Gold Cloaks fighting a Stark soldier. Behind them, a serving woman cried out, and Brienne saw her being stabbed through the gut by a third Gold Cloak.

"Cease this at once!" Myrcella's voice easily carried despite her small frame.

The Stark guardsman took that moment to back up a step as the Gold Cloaks hesitated for a second. Then one said to his companions, "The orders were clear: kill them." Two more Gold Cloaks appeared, and now there were five. The sounds of fighting and dying grew more pronounced.

"Brienne." Myrcella's tone could have frozen the waters of Tarth. "End them."

Her blood being already up after seeing an innocent woman gutted, Brienne charged forward and past the Stark guard while the additional three assailants were still some distance away. Her blade sang as she slashed a spear aside and used her mass to slam her shoulder pauldron into a Gold Cloak. The man gasped in agony as his chain mail did little to stop the crushing force. Brienne whirled to strike a second foe, as she heard something sail through the air by her. Her blade lashed out in a second attack, but there was no need, as he was already choking on his lifeblood from a knife in his throat. Turning back to the gasping man who had dropped his spear, she finished him with a horizontal strike that nearly decapitated him.

The three remaining Gold Cloaks charged, but the hallway only allowed room for two. Both came at her with spears. She chopped one spear point down and let the other skitter across her breastplate. Another knife flew past, and a Gold Cloak clutched at his face. The throw hadn't been lethal as the angle wasn't straight on. It had pierced the eye, but at an angle, and had bounced off the eye socket. Brienne wasted no time in delivering an overhand blow to his shoulder that surely broke his clavicle, resulting in his collapse to the ground. The two final Gold Cloaks turned and fled, one backing away and the other simply running.

Brienne did not let them. She charged, and the man could not backpedal fast enough. In a last-ditch effort, he struck out at her, but Brienne dodged, stepping inside his guard. Her pommel strike to an uncovered part of his face either knocked him out cold or dazed him. Either way, he collapsed to the ground, and Brienne used both hands to drive her blade through his chest, tearing the links of the chain mail as she did so. The last Gold Cloak didn't get far as another thrown weapon, a larger knife, took him in the leg. Brienne stalked forward and ended his life before turning around to see Myrcella retrieve her throwing knives.

"Myrcella?'' Brienne had known she had picked up throwing knives, and she had even talked about creating and popularizing a game about throwing accurately at a circular board. Myrcella always seemed to be skilled at everything she did, but she had just helped kill several men, and one would not know it looking at her.

"Retrieve the knife for me, Brienne," Myrcella calmly commanded.

Brienne quickly bent down and retrieved the thrown dagger. It had struck the back of the knee with significant force, and she had to pull hard. By the time she had pulled it out, she saw Myrcella had gone over to the stabbed serving woman.

"Even with a Maester's aid, you will not survive. Would you like the gift of mercy?" Myrcella was looking down at the gasping and pain-filled face of the woman. She nodded, and the princess ended her pain.

Brienne felt her stomach churn. She looked down at the blade, dripping with blood, and the surrounding carnage. Her wide-eyed gaze snapped to Myrcella as she gave the next command.

"Brienne, hold the stairway. I need to retrieve Arya and make for the Small Hall."

Brienne followed the command. "Should we not find a narrower place to make a stand?" She had other questions for the princess, but now was not the time.

"No, we want a place with maximum tactical flexibility. The Small Hall holds two of the three staircases to the higher floors and has only one main entrance leading to the first floor. Based on the time of day, many of Lord's Stark's men would have been dining there; if there's any organized resistance, it will be there."

Before Brienne could respond, Myrcella was moving up the stairs, and Brienne raised her blade, ready to defend the entryway with her life.b