Chapter 35 - Mummer's Show

122 AC

The third day of the sixth moon

Mushroom POV

I wandered through the dimly lit corridors of the Red Keep, the shadows of the night casting an eerie ambiance. Outside, the darkest part of the moon had arrived, the hour of the wolf. It was during this time that secrets whispered in the dark seemed to hold a certain weight.

As I approached the grand doors of the Great Hall, they stood ajar, inviting me inside. A faint glow spilled out, revealing the silhouette of the figure I had been searching for, standing at the base of the imposing Iron Throne. His unmistakable shock of white hair gleamed under the moonlight that filtered in through the tall windows.

Carefully, I made my way toward him, my steps barely audible on the polished stone floors. The closer I got, the louder his muttered words became, a low and mysterious incantation that danced on the edges of comprehension.

"Hello, Ulf," I spoke up, breaking through the silence, and his pale lilac eye turned toward me, its intensity catching me off guard.

He paused his mutterings, his face shifting from concentration to curiosity as he regarded me.

"Mushroom," he acknowledged.

"A thousand blades, taken from the hands of Aegon's fallen enemies. Forged in the fiery breath of Balerion the Dread," I said, my gaze fixated on the monstrous structure looming before me.

"I'm not entirely convinced of the truth behind that legend," he responded, his tone laced with skepticism. "I am currently counting the blades, you see."

"Heh, I'm sure you are," I retorted, testing the waters to gauge his reaction. "Ugly old thing, isn't it?"

A twinkle appeared in his eyes as he replied, "It possesses a certain appeal, wouldn't you say?"

"It's like the Helaena Targaryen of chairs, a shame you can never truly sit upon it," I remarked, aiming to provoke a response.

For a fleeting moment, his face darkened, but he quickly broke into a short laugh. "Ah, my friend, these are still early days. It's quite flattering, really, to witness the dread you feel at the prospect of me achieving what I desire."

"Thwarting you has never been my sole ambition, I assure you. Although, it is amusing to witness the occasional failure of one's friends," I confessed.

He scoffed, his expression turning disdainful. "You have no true purpose in life; you merely revel in sowing chaos and playing the fool."

"I am doing what I believe to be for the good of the realm," I insisted.

"The realm," he uttered, clutching his stomach as laughter spilled from his lips.

"You care naught for the realm," he declared, his voice tinged with contempt.

"Do you even comprehend what the realm truly is?" he challenged me.

"The realm is the thousand blades of Aegon's enemies—a tale we repeatedly tell ourselves until we forget it's nothing more than a lie," he proclaimed.

"Everyone believes in something, and the people of the Seven Kingdoms have placed their faith in the Iron Throne for guidance," I argued.

"Good luck trying to convince the Dornish to believe in the Iron Throne," he scoffed, a chuckle escaping him.

I brushed off his comment and pressed on. "But what will they have left once you strip away the illusion? Chaos? A gaping pit ready to devour us all," I said, heat seeping into my voice.

Suddenly, his eyes sparkled with an unsettling glimmer. "Chaos isn't a pit. Chaos is a ladder. Many who attempt to climb it will fail and never have the chance to try again. The fall breaks them. And for some, when given the opportunity to ascend, they refuse. They cling to the realm, the gods, or love—illusions. Only the ladder is real. The climb is all that matters," he proclaimed, his arms outstretched as if embracing the very concept of chaos.

For a moment, a silence enveloped us, broken only by the echo of my laughter filling the corridor. The smile that had graced Ulf's face vanished, replaced by a perplexed expression.

"Why are you laughing?" he questioned, his voice laced with curiosity.

Softly, I replied, "It's a lie."

Confusion flickered in his eyes as he probed, "What do you mean?"

"It's all a mummer's show," I declared, my conviction growing with each word.

"Part of you may believe that, but I refuse to accept that you manipulate people to such an extent," I continued, my tone unwavering.

His anger flared, and he retorted, "And what do you claim to know about me?"

"I know that you were orphaned at a tender age when your mother passed away, leaving you with nothing but memories at the mere age of five namedays," I began, my voice steady. "I know that you endeavored to save Laena Velaryon, despite the easier path of letting her slip away. You could have claimed to be her savior, but instead, you chose to lie to her, fully aware of the potential consequences, even risking your own life."

Ulf's demeanor faltered, his eyes betraying a vulnerability he seldom displayed. Encouraged, I pressed on, "And the genuine remorse you felt when Princess Rhaena lost her eye—there was no pretense in that. I have trust in my sources, in the whispers they bring me."

My voice took on a softer tone as I revealed, "I overheard your conversation with Prince Aemond in the gardens. Not a single word you spoke was false. You truly meant it when you expressed your desire to be his friend." Ulf shifted uncomfortably, a hint of unease washing over him.

"Princess Helaena is another testament," I continued. "If you were to tell her to run away with you, she would undoubtedly follow. Yet, when the time comes for her to implore you to escape this turmoil, you will reject her. No matter what she does to change your mind, it will be in vain because you are an honorable man."

My words hung in the air, their weight undeniable. Gathering momentum, I added, "Furthermore, today, when you leaped to the defense of the tavern owner's daughter, you had nothing to gain. Yet, you risked your own safety to protect her."

"So, yes, Ulf," I affirmed, my voice resolute, "I believe it to be a mummer's act."

"Why do you care about my image so much?" he asked, his voice breaking ever so slightly, revealing a vulnerability hidden beneath his mask of confidence.

I regarded him as one would a child, with a mix of empathy and understanding. "You are an inspiration to the smallfolk," I explained, my words carrying a weight beyond their mere utterance. "A boy who emerged from nothingness to become the youngest knight in the realm."

A glimmer of realization appeared in Ulf's eyes as I continued, "You give them hope, Ulf. Hope that dreams can be realized, that greatness can be achieved despite the odds."

My voice softened, brimming with sincerity, "The smallfolk need heroes, individuals who embody the ideals they strive for. You are that hero, even if you don't realize it."

Ulf stood there, his gaze locked with mine, the walls of his defenses crumbling before me. In that moment, I knew that I had touched a chord deep within him, reminding him of the profound impact he had on the lives of those who looked up to him.

"And when the 'Great War' comes, they will look up to you to save them, Ulf," I emphasized, my voice filled with conviction. "So, do not try to change yourself and pretend to be a manipulator. I have encountered many vain, arrogant individuals, but you are not like them. Stop trying to be something you are not."

"I know," Ulf replied softly, his voice carrying a mix of acceptance and self-reflection.

"I thought that if I treated everyone as mere pieces on a cyvasse board, I wouldn't care about the consequences," he continued, his tone filled with a newfound understanding. "But now, I realize that I was only acting out of fear. However, it doesn't matter anymore. I have a duty towards the people."

A somber realization washed over him as he confessed, "I was just trying to emulate Baelish." His voice grew almost inaudible, and I strained to catch his words.

A surge of curiosity gripped me, and I pressed further. "Baelish? Who is he?"

"Nobody," Ulf replied with a tinge of resignation. Understanding washed over me as the pieces fell into place.

In his own way, Ulf had sought to emulate the persona of Baelish, perhaps hoping that this persona would grant him an advantage in the intricate dance of politics. But now, a realization had dawned upon him. He was not meant to walk in Baelish's footsteps. It was a breakthrough, a profound recognition of his true nature, his inherent compassion, and his calling to serve a higher purpose.

"You were never meant to be Baelish," I affirmed, my voice gentle but firm. "You possess qualities far greater than manipulation and deceit. The realm needs a different kind of hero, one who leads with integrity, empathy, and a genuine desire to protect the innocent."

Ulf's gaze met mine, a mixture of gratitude and relief shining in his eyes. It was a pivotal moment, a turning point in his journey. He shed the mask of mimicry, embracing his own identity—a beacon of hope for the people he was destined to protect.

The mummer's show that Ulf had unwittingly begun had come to an end. He had discovered his true purpose, a path guided by authenticity and a commitment to making a positive difference in the lives of others. The realm would no longer be deceived by his act, but instead, they would witness the emergence of a true hero.

As we stood there, the weight of our shared understanding permeated the air. The echoes of laughter had faded, replaced by a newfound resolve and an unwavering belief in the power of compassion. Together, we would face the challenges that lay ahead, united in our commitment to protect the innocent and bring about a brighter future for the realm we held dear.