I moved.
Not well.
Not cleverly.
I simply moved first.
The boy with the knife expected me to back away.
Instead, I rushed him.
His surprise bought me perhaps half a second.
It was enough.
I slammed both hands into his chest and drove forward with everything I had. He was older, taller, and much heavier, so instead of throwing him backward as some heroic part of my mind had imagined, I bounced off him.
But his knife missed.
The blade passed beside my shoulder.
I stumbled.
"Tycen!"
Rhaegar hit him.
Actually hit him.
He drove his shoulder into the older boy's side, and all three of us crashed against the alley wall.
The knife scraped across stone.
One of the other boys grabbed Rhaegar from behind.
I saw silver-gold hair as his hood came loose.
Then a fist struck my face.
White light exploded across my vision.
I fell.
For a moment, there was only stone beneath my hands and a high ringing sound inside my skull.
Training had never felt like this.
Ser Harys hit hard.
Ser Denys hit hard.
But they stopped.
They controlled themselves.
This boy didn't.
Another kick caught my side.
Pain tore through me.
I curled instinctively.
"Hold him!"
Someone grabbed my cloak.
I twisted.
A hand reached toward my neck.
And suddenly the training returned.
Not as thoughts.
As movement.
I caught the wrist.
Turned.
Pulled.
The boy leaned forward.
I drove my forehead into his nose.
Pain burst through my own skull.
He screamed.
Blood poured between his fingers.
I stared at him.
I'd done that.
No time.
Rhaegar shouted.
I turned.
The oldest boy had him against the wall.
The knife was back in his hand.
Everything inside me went cold.
Not Rhaegar.
The thought came with terrifying certainty.
Not him.
I grabbed the first thing beside me.
A broken piece of wood.
Maybe part of a crate.
I swung.
It struck the knife-boy across the forearm.
He screamed.
The knife fell.
Rhaegar kicked it away.
"Run!"
"There is nowhere to run!"
Right.
Dead end.
Excellent contribution.
The third boy came at me.
I raised the wood.
He hesitated.
That hesitation mattered.
I swung for his head.
He ducked.
Too slow.
I changed direction badly and caught his shoulder instead.
He crashed into me.
We went down.
He was much stronger.
Immediately.
Painfully.
His knee landed on my chest.
I couldn't breathe.
His hands closed around my throat.
I clawed at them.
Nothing.
His face was inches above mine.
Dirty.
Angry.
Scared.
That surprised me.
He was scared too.
Then Rhaegar appeared behind him.
A brick came down.
Once.
The boy collapsed beside me.
I sucked in air.
Rhaegar stood above us holding the brick with both hands.
His face had gone completely white.
"Is he dead?"
I looked at the boy.
He was breathing.
"I don't think so."
Rhaegar dropped the brick immediately.
The sound seemed very loud.
Neither of us moved.
Then the oldest boy screamed.
"You little bastards!"
He had recovered the knife.
Blood ran down his arm from where I'd struck him.
He charged.
Rhaegar reached for the brick again.
Too late.
I grabbed the fallen boy and pulled.
His body shifted into the attacker's path.
The older boy stumbled.
The knife flashed downward.
I rolled.
Pain burned across my upper arm.
For a second I didn't understand it.
Then warmth spread beneath my sleeve.
Blood.
My blood.
I stared.
That was a mistake.
The older boy kicked me in the chest.
My back struck the wall.
I couldn't breathe.
Again.
He raised the knife.
I saw his face.
And suddenly I knew I was going to die.
Not eventually.
Not in some war.
Not because of the White Walkers or Aerys or Robert's Rebellion.
Here.
At seven years old.
In an alley that smelled of piss.
Because I wanted to see a fighting pit.
The absurdity almost made me laugh.
Then Rhaegar jumped onto the boy's back.
"Get off him!"
The knife swung wildly.
Rhaegar held on.
The boy spun.
"Rhaegar!"
He froze.
So did the attacker.
I'd said his name.
Fuck.
The oldest boy stared at him.
At the silver-gold hair.
At the violet eyes.
Understanding came slowly.
Then all at once.
"Rhaegar?"
The alley became silent.
The boy looked terrified.
"The prince?"
Rhaegar released him.
For one moment, nobody moved.
Then the oldest boy looked at me.
My cloak had opened during the fight.
The little golden lion clasp was visible.
His eyes widened further.
He knew.
Maybe not my name.
But enough.
Dragon.
Lion.
The two worst children in King's Landing to stab in an alley.
"Oh, fuck."
For once, we agreed.
Then someone shouted from the street.
"PRINCE RHAEGAR!"
The boy ran.
He made it three steps.
A man in a white cloak appeared at the alley entrance.
I'd never seen anyone draw a sword that quickly.
The attacker stopped.
The Kingsguard knight didn't.
The pommel of his sword struck the boy's face.
He dropped instantly.
More men flooded the alley.
Gold cloaks.
Red cloaks.
Servants.
The servant who had followed us appeared among them, looking as though he'd aged twenty years.
"My prince!"
Rhaegar and I looked at each other.
Then at the unconscious bodies around us.
Then at my bleeding arm.
"We're in trouble," I said.
Rhaegar swallowed.
"Yes."
For some reason, that was when I started laughing.
I couldn't stop.
Rhaegar stared at me.
Then he started too.
The Kingsguard knight looked at both of us as though we'd gone mad.
Perhaps we had.
The laughter stopped when Tywin arrived.
I'd never seen my father move quickly before.
He did now.
A maester was wrapping my arm when the door opened.
Tywin entered.
He didn't shout.
That would have been better.
His eyes found the bandage first.
Then my bruised face.
Then Rhaegar.
The prince had a split lip and swelling around one eye.
Aerys entered moments later.
He did shout.
"WHAT HAPPENED?"
Everyone began speaking at once.
The servant.
The guards.
The maester.
Rhaegar tried explaining.
Aerys silenced them.
Then pointed at his son.
"You."
Rhaegar straightened.
"Explain."
"We went into the city."
Aerys stared at him.
"Without guards?"
"There was a servant—"
"A servant."
Rhaegar went quiet.
Aerys's face reddened.
"The heir to the Iron Throne wandering Flea Bottom with a servant."
"We weren't in Flea Bottom," I said.
Tywin looked at me.
I shut my mouth.
Aerys turned toward me.
For one horrible moment, I thought I'd made things worse.
Then he laughed.
Not happily.
"Of course. Forgive me. Apparently the location is the important matter."
I looked down.
Tywin spoke.
"Tycen."
One word.
I knew that tone.
"Yes, Father."
"Whose idea was this?"
Rhaegar answered immediately.
"Mine."
I looked at him.
Aerys did too.
Rhaegar continued.
"I brought him outside."
"And the fighting pit?" Tywin asked.
That part was mine.
I could lie.
Rhaegar had just protected me.
I didn't.
"Mine."
Tywin's eyes settled on me.
"You followed an illegal fighting pit."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I heard cheering."
Silence.
Tywin stared.
I realized how stupid it sounded only after saying it.
Aerys rubbed his forehead.
"Seven hells."
The maester finished tying my bandage.
"The cut is shallow. It will heal."
Tywin looked at him.
"You're certain?"
"Yes, my lord."
Something loosened in my father's face.
So little I might have imagined it.
Then it vanished.
Aerys was examining Rhaegar.
"You could have been killed."
"I know."
"No, you do not."
Aerys grabbed his son's chin and turned his face toward the light.
Rhaegar flinched.
"Three gutter rats nearly killed the future of House Targaryen."
His voice had changed.
The anger was still there.
But beneath it was something else.
Fear.
Real fear.
For a moment, Aerys wasn't a king.
He was a father looking at his injured son.
Then the moment disappeared.
"What happened to them?"
A guard answered.
"All three alive, Your Grace. Two injured. One in custody."
Aerys turned.
"Hang them."
My stomach dropped.
Rhaegar stared at his father.
"What?"
"Hang them."
"They didn't know who we were."
Aerys looked at him.
"They attacked you."
"They thought we were ordinary boys."
"Then they should have chosen their victims more carefully."
Rhaegar stepped forward.
"Father—"
"Enough."
The room went silent.
Aerys looked toward the guard.
"At dawn."
The guard bowed.
I remembered the oldest boy's face when he realized who Rhaegar was.
Fear.
He had tried to stab me.
He might have killed us.
Part of me wanted him punished.
But death?
For a fight that began because two noble idiots wandered where they shouldn't?
"They shouldn't die."
The words left my mouth before I could stop them.
Tywin closed his eyes.
Only briefly.
Aerys slowly turned toward me.
"What did you say?"
Every sensible instinct screamed at me to apologize.
Instead, I thought of Joanna.
The miners.
People.
Costs.
"They didn't know who we were, Your Grace."
Aerys's expression hardened.
"They drew a knife on my son."
"Yes."
"And on you."
"Yes."
"So why should they live?"
I didn't have a clever answer.
"They're boys."
"So are you."
That shut me up.
Aerys stepped closer.
"Do you think your age would have mattered while that knife entered your throat?"
"No."
"Then why should theirs?"
Because we had choices they didn't.
Because I had walked into their world wearing boots worth more than they might see in months.
Because killing them wouldn't undo anything.
Because I didn't want the first people to die because of me to be three desperate boys in an alley.
But I was seven.
And Aerys was king.
Tywin finally spoke.
"Your Grace."
Aerys looked toward him.
"Executing them immediately wastes an opportunity."
I looked at my father.
Of course that was how he would phrase mercy.
Aerys frowned.
"Explain."
"Question them."
"For what?"
"Three boys followed the Crown Prince through several streets without the royal escort finding him."
The room changed.
Tywin continued.
"Perhaps they were merely thieves."
A pause.
"Perhaps not."
Aerys's anger shifted.
I watched it happen.
Fear became suspicion.
"Someone knew Rhaegar was outside?"
"I did not say that."
"But you think it."
"I think hanging men before questioning them is poor practice."
Aerys stared at him.
Then at the guard.
"Question them."
The guard bowed.
"Thoroughly."
I wasn't certain Tywin had saved them.
He might have made things worse.
I looked at him.
His face revealed nothing.
Rhaegar came to my chambers after dark.
Neither of us was supposed to leave our rooms.
Apparently that rule lasted less than four hours.
He slipped inside and closed the door.
His eye had turned purple.
I pointed at it.
"Your violet eyes finally match."
He stared at me.
Then laughed.
Immediately he winced and touched his lip.
"Don't make me laugh."
"You came here."
He sat beside the window.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
The city spread below.
Finally:
"You stepped in front of me."
I shrugged.
"So?"
"You knew he had a knife."
"So did you."
"You still did it."
I looked at him.
"What was I supposed to do?"
"I don't know."
"Exactly."
Rhaegar looked down at his hands.
"I hit someone with a brick."
"Yes."
"I thought I'd killed him."
"I know."
His voice became quieter.
"I didn't want to."
That was when the humor disappeared.
I sat beside him.
"I thought I was going to die."
Rhaegar looked at me.
"When?"
"When he had me against the wall."
I touched the bandage on my arm.
"For a second, I knew it."
I laughed once.
There was nothing funny about it.
"All those lessons. All that training. Didn't matter much."
"It mattered."
"Not enough."
"You stopped the knife."
"It still cut me."
"And you're alive."
I considered that.
Rhaegar leaned back.
"Do you know what I thought?"
"What?"
"That my mother would kill me if the knife didn't."
I laughed.
He smiled.
Then he became serious again.
"Thank you."
I didn't like how sincere he sounded.
"You hit someone with a brick for me. I think we're even."
"No."
"Rhaegar—"
"You could have run."
"Into the wall?"
"Before."
I knew what he meant.
When the three boys first approached us.
I could have stepped away.
Maybe.
I hadn't.
"You're my friend."
The words felt embarrassingly simple.
Rhaegar stared at me.
Perhaps nobody spoke simply to princes.
Then he nodded.
"You're mine too."
No titles.
No dragon.
No lion.
Just two boys with bruised faces sitting beside a window.
That felt more important than it should have.
Tywin visited after Rhaegar left.
He knew.
Of course he knew.
"The prince was here."
"Yes."
"You are both remarkably poor at obeying instructions."
"I've noticed."
He looked at my bandaged arm.
Then sat opposite me.
That surprised me.
I waited for the lecture.
It came.
"You made seven mistakes."
"Seven?"
"I stopped counting at seven."
I sighed.
"Leaving the Red Keep without guards."
"Rhaegar—"
"You went willingly."
Fair.
"Entering an unfamiliar part of the city."
Fair.
"Following a crowd."
Fair.
"Allowing yourself to be cornered."
Ser Harys would enjoy that one.
"Failing to identify an escape route."
Also fair.
"Engaging an armed opponent while unarmed."
"I didn't have much choice."
"You had choices earlier. Poor decisions remove choices later."
That one hurt because it was true.
"And the seventh?"
Tywin looked directly at me.
"You said Prince Rhaegar's name."
I remembered the alley.
The knife.
Rhaegar on the boy's back.
"I was scared."
"I know."
The answer surprised me.
No mockery.
No criticism.
Just acknowledgment.
Tywin leaned back.
"Fear is not shameful."
I stared at him.
That did not sound like Tywin.
"Allowing fear to control your decisions is."
There he was.
I looked down at my hands.
"I thought training would make it easier."
"It did."
"It didn't feel like it."
"You're alive."
Rhaegar had said the same thing.
Tywin's eyes moved to the bandage.
"A man with ten years of training can die because his foot slips in mud. Skill changes odds. It does not remove them."
Odds.
I understood odds.
Not perfectly.
But enough.
"So I was lucky."
"Very."
That bothered me.
Tywin saw it.
"Good."
"What?"
"Remember that feeling."
He stood.
I expected him to leave.
Instead, his hand landed briefly on my shoulder.
Not affection exactly.
But close.
"When the prince was threatened, you did not abandon him."
"No."
"Why?"
"He's my friend."
Tywin's hand disappeared.
His expression changed slightly.
"Friendship with princes is rarely simple."
"I know."
"No."
He looked toward the window where Rhaegar had sat.
"You don't."
Then he left.
The next morning, I returned to the council chamber.
Aerys had not removed me as cupbearer.
Quite the opposite.
When I entered, he looked at the bandage on my arm and smiled.
"The lion survived."
"So far, Your Grace."
A few councilors laughed.
Tywin did not.
I poured the king's wine.
Then one of the Gold Cloak officers entered.
"My king."
Aerys waved him forward.
"The prisoners?"
"Questioned."
"And?"
The officer hesitated.
That caught everyone's attention.
"They claim they were paid."
The room went silent.
My hand stopped above the wine cup.
Aerys leaned forward.
"Paid?"
"Yes, Your Grace."
"By whom?"
"They don't know."
Tywin spoke immediately.
"What were they paid to do?"
The officer looked toward me.
Then Rhaegar's empty chair.
"Follow the prince."
A cold feeling entered my stomach.
Aerys rose.
The chair scraped against stone.
"They knew who he was?"
"One claims they were told only to follow the silver-haired boy leaving the Red Keep."
Nobody moved.
Yesterday had been stupidity.
Two boys sneaking into King's Landing.
A fight.
Bad luck.
Except perhaps it hadn't been.
Aerys's face twisted.
"Who paid them?"
"We don't know."
"Then find out!"
The king struck his goblet from the table.
It shattered against the wall.
Red wine ran down the stone like blood.
Nobody spoke.
My father looked at me.
This time, I understood his expression.
The fight in the alley was over.
Something else had begun.