By midday, six men had been arrested.
By sunset, there were eleven.
None of them knew anything.
That did not stop Aerys.
The Red Keep changed after the attack.
Guards appeared everywhere. Doors that had stood open were locked. Servants were questioned. Gold Cloaks searched streets around the fighting pit.
Rhaegar was forbidden from leaving the castle without a Kingsguard.
I received the same order from Tywin, except his version included the words for the remainder of your natural life.
I suspected he was exaggerating.
Slightly.
The three boys from the alley were still alive.
That surprised me.
They had admitted being paid to follow Rhaegar, but apparently knew almost nothing about whoever had hired them. A man in a gray cloak had approached the oldest near the Street of Flour and offered silver to follow a silver-haired boy if he left the Red Keep through one of the lower gates.
They had been told not to attack him.
That part mattered.
At least to me.
To Aerys, it seemed to matter very little.
"They followed my son."
The king paced around the council table.
"They carried a knife."
My arm throbbed beneath its bandage.
I continued pouring wine.
"They nearly killed him."
"They were not instructed to attack him," Tywin said.
Aerys stopped.
"And you believe them?"
"I believe men generally confess to more useful lies."
One of the councilors shifted uncomfortably.
Aerys glared at my father.
"Someone knew Rhaegar would leave the castle."
"Or watched the gates regularly."
"Someone knew."
Tywin didn't answer.
That seemed to make the king angrier.
Aerys turned toward the commander of the Gold Cloaks.
"Find the man in the gray cloak."
"We are searching, Your Grace."
"Search harder."
"Yes, Your Grace."
"And the boys?"
The commander hesitated.
Aerys noticed.
"Well?"
"They remain imprisoned."
"Hang the oldest."
My hand tightened around the wine flagon.
"The others?"
Aerys considered it.
"Ten lashes each. Then release them."
I looked up.
The king noticed.
"What?"
I immediately looked down again.
"Nothing, Your Grace."
"No. You looked at me."
Every man at the table suddenly became fascinated by whatever was directly in front of him.
Aerys leaned back.
"Speak."
I glanced at Tywin.
His expression gave me absolutely nothing.
Great.
I chose my words carefully.
"Why only the oldest?"
"Only?"
"I mean... why spare the others?"
Aerys studied me.
"Because you asked."
That surprised me.
"I asked you not to kill them."
"And I have chosen not to kill two."
A faint smile appeared.
"Should I reconsider?"
"No, Your Grace."
"Good."
I poured his wine.
The meeting continued.
But the answer stayed with me.
Two boys would live because I had spoken.
One would die anyway.
It was the first time my words had changed whether someone lived or died.
I didn't like the feeling.
Not as much as I thought I would.
The oldest boy was named Renn.
I learned that accidentally.
I wish I hadn't.
Names made things harder.
He was sixteen.
His mother washed clothes near Cobbler's Square. His father had died years earlier. He had two younger sisters.
None of that made him innocent.
He had pulled a knife.
He had cut me.
He might have killed Rhaegar.
But suddenly he wasn't the boy with the knife anymore.
He was Renn.
Sixteen.
And he was going to hang at dawn.
I found Rhaegar in the library that evening.
He wasn't reading.
That was how I knew something was wrong.
"He has a name," I said.
Rhaegar looked up.
"Who?"
"The boy."
He understood immediately.
"Renn."
"You knew?"
"I asked."
Of course he had.
I sat opposite him.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then Rhaegar said:
"I asked Father to spare him."
"What did he say?"
"No."
"That's all?"
"No."
Rhaegar looked toward the window.
"He asked whether I wanted people to believe they could draw steel on a Targaryen prince and survive."
I didn't know what to say.
Rhaegar did.
"I told him yes."
I stared.
"You said that?"
"Not exactly."
"Good."
"He was angry."
"Obviously."
Rhaegar looked at me.
"Do you think he should die?"
The question was harder than it should have been.
"If you'd asked me while he had the knife..."
"You would have killed him?"
"If I could."
That was the truth.
Rhaegar nodded.
"So would I."
"But now?"
I looked down.
"No."
"Neither do I."
That was when an idea occurred to me.
A bad idea.
My recent ideas had a poor survival rate.
Still.
"Come with me."
Rhaegar frowned.
"Where?"
"To find my father."
Tywin was working.
Naturally.
He looked up as the Crown Prince and I entered his solar.
His eyes moved between us.
"No."
I stopped.
"You don't even know what we're asking."
"I have found that refusing you both in advance saves time."
Rhaegar almost smiled.
I didn't.
"It's about Renn."
Tywin's expression hardened.
"The condemned boy."
"Yes."
"What about him?"
"We want him spared."
Tywin returned to the document in front of him.
"No."
I stared.
"Is everyone doing that today?"
"Perhaps you should consider what that suggests about your requests."
Rhaegar stepped forward.
"Lord Tywin."
That made my father look up.
Rhaegar rarely used his rank with him.
"The order came from the king."
"I know."
"Then why are you asking me?"
"Because he listens to you."
Tywin's face remained perfectly still.
That was not entirely true anymore.
Perhaps Rhaegar knew that too.
"I advise the king," Tywin said. "I do not command him."
"But you could try."
Tywin looked at Rhaegar for several seconds.
Then at me.
"Why?"
I answered.
"Because Renn wasn't hired to kill Rhaegar."
"He attacked you."
"After we grabbed him."
"He drew a knife."
"Yes."
"You are making an unusually poor argument for his innocence."
"I'm not saying he's innocent."
That made Tywin pause.
"Then what are you saying?"
I thought about it.
"He made a stupid decision."
"So did you."
Exactly.
"We went somewhere we shouldn't have. We followed the fighting pit. We got ourselves trapped."
Tywin's eyes narrowed.
"Do not confuse your stupidity with his guilt."
"I'm not."
I took a breath.
"But if we're trying to find who paid him, killing him doesn't help."
Tywin leaned back.
There.
That had interested him.
Rhaegar understood too.
"He saw the man," the prince said. "The others didn't speak to him."
Tywin's fingers tapped once against the desk.
"He has already described him."
"Descriptions can be wrong," I said. "He might remember something later."
Tywin stared at me.
I could almost see him weighing it.
Not mercy.
Utility.
So I gave him utility.
"Keep him alive until they find whoever paid him."
"And afterward?"
I didn't answer.
Tywin noticed.
"Ah."
He stood.
"So this is mercy disguised as strategy."
I felt my face warm.
"Would strategy make it worse?"
"No."
He walked around the desk.
"It makes it more likely to succeed."
Rhaegar and I exchanged a glance.
Tywin saw that too.
"Do not celebrate."
"We weren't."
"You were."
He walked toward the door.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
"To prevent a hanging."
That was the closest my father ever came to admitting we'd won.
Renn did not hang at dawn.
Aerys was furious.
I knew because everyone in the Red Keep knew.
Apparently Tywin had convinced him that keeping the prisoner alive might lead them to whoever had paid him.
The king agreed.
Then claimed it had been his intention all along.
Nobody corrected him.
Three days passed.
Then five.
The man in the gray cloak was never found.
Instead, something else happened.
Renn disappeared.
I learned during breakfast.
A guard entered and whispered something to Tywin.
My father's expression changed.
"What?"
The guard hesitated.
"Say it."
"The prisoner is gone, my lord."
Tywin stood.
"How?"
"We don't know."
That answer was becoming popular.
The dungeon cell had been locked.
The guard outside had been found unconscious.
No broken lock.
No tunnel.
No body.
Renn had simply vanished.
Aerys exploded.
"TRAITORS!"
His voice echoed through the council chamber.
"There are traitors inside my own castle!"
I stood against the wall with the wine.
Nobody asked for any.
"Who was guarding him?"
"Two men, Your Grace."
"Arrest them."
"One remains unconscious."
"Then arrest him when he wakes!"
The commander bowed.
Aerys turned toward Tywin.
"You told me to keep the boy alive."
"I did."
"And now he is gone."
"Yes."
"Convenient."
The room became very still.
Tywin's voice dropped.
"Explain what you mean, Your Grace."
Aerys stared at him.
For a moment, I thought he would.
Then he smiled.
Nothing about it was pleasant.
"Nothing."
He turned away.
But the damage was done.
I saw it.
So did everyone else.
Suspicion.
Not of some unknown man in a gray cloak.
Of Tywin.
My father remained expressionless.
Only his eyes changed.
I understood then that whatever friendship had once existed between Aerys Targaryen and Tywin Lannister was dying one small wound at a time.
Two days later, Rhaegar found me in the training yard.
He tossed me a wooden sword.
I caught it.
"Again?"
"Again."
His bruises had begun fading.
So had mine.
We fought.
He was better than before.
Not dramatically.
But the alley had changed something.
He no longer attacked as though every opponent would follow the rules.
He feinted.
I almost smiled.
Then he hit me across the shoulder.
Hard.
"Ow."
"Dead lion."
"That was unnecessarily hard."
"You told me my swordsmanship was predictable."
"It was."
"Not anymore."
I attacked.
He blocked.
For the next several minutes, there was no Aerys.
No mysterious man.
No missing prisoner.
No future rebellion.
Just us.
Wood against wood.
Rhaegar eventually knocked my sword aside.
I stepped inside his reach and kicked his leg.
He fell.
I landed on top of him.
"Dead prince."
"You kicked me."
"You hit me with a brick."
"That was different."
"Why?"
"I was saving your life."
"I'm saving Westeros from your terrible swordsmanship."
He shoved me off.
We lay on the ground laughing.
Then a voice came from behind us.
"I had heard you two had become inseparable."
We stopped.
A woman stood beneath the archway.
She was beautiful.
Not in the golden way Joanna had been.
Different.
Silver-gold hair fell over her shoulders, far paler than mine, unmistakably Targaryen. Her face was delicate.
Her violet eyes were on Rhaegar.
He stood immediately.
"Mother."
Queen Rhaella.
I got up so quickly I nearly tripped.
"Your Grace."
She smiled at me.
"So this is Tycen."
I'd expected something different.
I wasn't sure what.
Perhaps someone grander.
Colder.
Instead, she seemed almost gentle.
"Yes, Your Grace."
Her eyes lingered on me.
For a moment, I remembered Aerys doing the same.
I resisted the urge to touch my hair.
Rhaella's expression didn't become strange.
She simply smiled.
"Rhaegar speaks of you often."
I looked at him.
He suddenly found the ground fascinating.
"Does he?"
"Unfortunately."
"Mother."
I smiled.
I liked her immediately.
Rhaella approached her son and touched the fading bruise beneath his eye.
"You frightened me."
Rhaegar's humor disappeared.
"I'm sorry."
"I know."
She kissed his forehead.
Then she looked at me.
"And I am told you stood beside him."
I didn't know how to answer.
"We stood beside each other."
Something softened in her face.
"Good."
Then her eyes moved toward the wooden swords.
"Though perhaps the next adventure could remain inside the castle."
"That was the plan," I said.
Rhaegar stared at me.
"You were the one who followed the cheering."
I stared back.
"You brought us outside."
Rhaella laughed.
It was quiet.
But real.
And for one brief moment, looking at Rhaegar beside his mother, I saw something that history books never captured.
A family.
Not a dynasty.
Not dragons.
Not kings and queens.
A mother and her son.
That made knowing the future much worse.
Weeks passed.
Renn never reappeared.
Neither did the man in gray.
Eventually the castle stopped talking about them.
Aerys did not.
His security increased.
He asked more questions.
He became suspicious of servants who had worked in the Red Keep for years.
Nothing dramatic.
Nothing that would make anyone call him mad.
Not yet.
But I noticed the change.
More importantly, so did Tywin.
My life settled into a new rhythm.
Council meetings.
Lessons.
Sword practice.
Rhaegar.
Letters from home.
Jaime wrote mostly about training.
Or rather, Maester Creylen wrote what Jaime dictated.
Ser Denys says I am faster than you were.
I didn't believe that for a second.
Cersei's letter was longer.
She wanted to know when I was coming home.
Then asked again.
Then informed me that Septa Amabel was stupid.
Then asked whether there were pretty girls in King's Landing.
I was seven.
I had no idea why that mattered.
Tyrion had apparently learned to say Jaime's name.
Badly.
He couldn't say mine.
That offended me far more than it should have.
I read the letters twice.
Sometimes three times.
King's Landing was becoming familiar.
But it wasn't home.
One evening, Rhaegar and I climbed a tower overlooking the city.
We weren't supposed to.
Apparently near-death had improved our judgment only slightly.
The sun was setting over the long summer.
King's Landing glowed orange beneath us.
Rhaegar sat on the stone ledge.
"What do you think happens to us?"
I looked at him.
"What?"
"When we're older."
That was a terrible question to ask me.
I knew one answer.
Rhaegar dead in a river.
Tywin dead on a privy.
Jaime hated.
Cersei destroyed.
Tyrion broken.
The realm torn apart.
Dragons returning.
Ice coming from the north.
But those were no longer answers.
They were possibilities.
"I think you become king."
Rhaegar looked at the city.
"And you?"
"Lord of Casterly Rock."
"That's boring."
"Your job involves sitting on an uncomfortable chair."
"It's a very important chair."
"It's made of swords."
"Exactly."
I smiled.
Then Rhaegar became serious.
"When I'm king, you should be my Hand."
I laughed.
He didn't.
"You're serious?"
"Why not?"
"I'm seven."
"So?"
"You don't even know if I'm good at anything yet."
"You're good at dice."
"Apparently I cheat."
"You do."
I shook my head.
"Ask me again when we're older."
Rhaegar held out his hand.
"Fine."
I looked at it.
"What?"
"A promise."
I stared at him.
Then took his hand.
"Fine. Ask me again."
He smiled.
Neither of us understood how much could change before that day.
Perhaps that was a mercy.
Below us, King's Landing continued as it always had.
Thousands of lives.
Thousands of ambitions.
Thousands of secrets.
Somewhere among them was a man in a gray cloak.
Somewhere in the Red Keep, Aerys was beginning to see enemies where there might be none.
And beside me sat the boy who, according to the history I remembered, would never become king at all.
I looked at Rhaegar.
For the first time, that future felt unacceptable.
Not because saving him would preserve the realm.
Not because I had calculated the consequences.
Not because of prophecy.
Because he was my friend.
And when the time came, I knew I would try.
Whatever it cost.