Current time
296 AC
It was midnight in the bowels of the Red Keep's secret tunnels. Under torchlight, the air was close and hot, smelling of dust and stone. Alysanne sat on Artys's lap, while Marei knelt on the floor beside them, eyes lowered.
"Tell me," Artys commanded.
Alysanne spoke softly. "Ser Jaime and the Queen are always together when the King goes on hunts. I assume that is when they speak freely and plot. Otherwise, the Queen is with Joffrey. She leaves Tommen and Myrcella with the servants, and Ser Jaime resumes his duties as Kingsguard."
"Where does this happen?" Artys asked.
"In Maegor's Holdfast."
"Damn," Artys muttered. "There are no tunnels to sneak in there."But he had other ways.
"You've done well, Alysanne."She blushed, and he kissed her cheek, making her nuzzle closer against him.
"I have also recommended Marei join Princess Myrcella's service," Alysanne continued. "The princess has taken a liking to her."
"Good. Very good," Artys said. "Take good care of my betrothed," he told Marei.
The girl gave him a mischievous smile."Don't let the Queen suspect anything is amiss," he said, then rose and escorted both women back through the tunnels, the torchlight throwing long shadows behind them.
The week passed swiftly as Artys prepared for his voyage to Myr.
Aeroquo Drennyr was a Braavosi captain from an esteemed keyholder family, but a ruinous gambling habit had led him to commit the greatest sin a Braavosi could: he transported slaves. Only his family's influence had spared his life. Exiled from Braavos, he had found a new home under Artys's employ. Ser Davos Seaworth had recommended him three years ago, and in that time, the man had done wonders with the Gulltown fleet—reorganizing it in the Braavosi style and founding a naval school to train new captains.
Artys wanted him personally to sail the Sea Strider. Swan ships were the fastest in the world, though dependent on the wind. Artys had altered the vessel, fitting it with thirty oars so it could move even when becalmed. The mission had to be perfect. This was industrial espionage—the glassmaking secrets of Myr were guarded as fiercely as a king's crown.
Forty men and ten knights would accompany him. The rest of the space aboard would be reserved for the glassmakers once purchased and smuggled away.
A page in Stokeworth livery came running, breathless."Ser! His Grace requests you join the hunt!"
Artys's brows rose. My chance. He needed to know what the Queen was planning, and a king's summons was not easily refused.
He made his way through Maegor's Holdfast. A black tomcat padded at his heels while Horus, his falcon, soared above, scanning the courtyards. The Red Keep was full of cats; none of the guards paid it any mind.
Ser Boros Blount stood at the entrance, looking flabbier than ever."I have a meeting with the King," Artys said curtly, brushing past him.
Inside, King Robert was downing a horn of ale while his squires, Lancel and Tyrek, prepared his hunting spear. Artys entered and dropped to one knee."Your Grace, I beg your pardon, but I must leave for Myr soon and will not be able to join the hunt."
"Good riddance," came Joffrey's irritating voice from behind, but a single glower from the King silenced him.
"So soon?" Robert said, scratching his beard. "Now that I think on it, Jon did mention something of the sort. Very well, then." He grinned. "Sail safe, lad. Myrcella will be waiting for you when you return. And kill some pirates for your King!"
Artys smiled. "Gladly, Your Grace."
As he turned to leave, he glanced at Joffrey and smirked."At least learn how to use a bow like a proper man. Even peasants can manage a crossbow."
Robert roared with laughter. Joffrey turned red. Artys gave a courteous bow and left, the King's laughter echoing behind him.
When the King's hunting party rode out, the Red Keep fell silent.
When the King's hunting party rode out, the Red Keep fell silent.
Artys sat still in his chambers, his eyes closed, and reached out with his mind. The black tom that prowled the kitchens stiffened, then obeyed. His thoughts slid into the creature's simple mind, and suddenly Artys saw through its eyes.
The cat padded through halls and stairwells, slipping past servants and guards who barely noticed it. Cats were part of the castle. No one questioned them.
Crossing the bridge to Maegor's Holdfast, the cat followed a familiar scent of perfume and wine. The Queen's chambers. The door was open a crack.
Inside, Cersei Lannister and Ser Jaime were in bed together—naked, tangled in each other's arms. Cersei was on her knees, her lips wrapped around Jaime's cock, her head bobbing up and down as she took him deep into her throat. Her hands worked in tandem with her mouth, stroking and squeezing, her spit making his shaft slick and glistening. Jaime's hips moved in time with her sucks, his hands fisting in her hair, guiding her, urging her to take more, to go deeper.
Cersei pulled back, a string of spit connecting her lips to Jaime's cock, and looked up at him with lust-filled eyes. "You taste so good, my love," she purred, her voice low and sultry. She took him back into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the sensitive tip, her lips and tongue working in tandem to pleasure him.
Jaime groaned, his body tensing as Cersei's skilled mouth and hands brought him to the brink of ecstasy. "Cersei, you're driving me wild," he growled, his voice hoarse with desire. He grabbed her by the hair, forcing her head back, his eyes locked on hers with an intensity that was almost hypnotic.
Cersei smiled wickedly, her lips glistening with spit, and began to lick and suck his cock with renewed vigor, her tongue exploring every inch of his shaft, her fingers teasing and pleasuring, bringing him to the brink of release.
For a moment, Artys could not believe it. Then he felt the truth sink in. Brother and sister. The Queen and her sworn Kingsguard. That bastard, He killed his previous King now he is cuckolding the current King.
The cat shifted, brushing a wine goblet. It fell with a sharp clatter.
Cersei froze. "What was that?"
Jaime glanced up, saw only the cat, and laughed. "Just one of your strays," he said, pulling her close again.
Artys forced the cat to back away and broke the link. His eyes opened. He was back in his chair, his heart pounding.
It was true. All of it.
The Queen's children were bastards. Joffrey. Tommen. Myrcella. All born of incest.
The thought of Mya Stone came to his mind — the bastard girl with coal-black hair and bright blue eyes.
If King Robert found out... Myrcella... his plans would be ruined.
"Fuck!" he hissed. He had wanted to take the Iron Throne legally and subtly.
Artys pressed a hand to his face and exhaled slowly. "I've been a damned fool," he muttered.
No wonder they changed their tune. Once he was married to Myrcella, House Arryn would be tied to the Lannisters by the hip, and any claim he had to the Iron Throne would come through Myrcella — who was neither trueborn nor a Baratheon.
They were trying to pay us with false coin.
He stared out toward the dark city below. Everything he had planned — every alliance, every move — had just changed.
A knock sounded at the door.
"Come in," Artys said wearily.
Ser Shadrich and Ser Steffon entered, followed by Thoros of Myr, his red robes singed at the edges and a wineskin hanging from his belt.
"I heard you had need of me, lad," Thoros said, voice rough from drink.
Artys looked at him and smiled faintly. "Aye, Thoros. I do."