The first attempt to kill me happened three days after I returned to King's Landing.
Which felt rude.
I had barely unpacked.
The morning began normally. Rhaegar and I trained before breakfast, where he complained about the bruise Edwyn had given him and I reminded him that princes were apparently not immune to wooden swords.
Then I attended court with my father.
A merchant complained about tariffs.
A landed knight complained about the merchant.
Aerys complained about both.
Normal.
By midday, I was hungry enough to consider eating the parchment in front of Tywin.
Then a servant brought wine.
I barely noticed him.
That was my first mistake.
He poured for Aerys.
Then Tywin.
Then me.
I reached for the cup.
And stopped.
There was nothing dramatic about it.
No strange color.
No skull floating in the wine.
Just a smell.
Sweet.
Very faint.
I looked at the cup.
Then at the servant.
Young.
Maybe eighteen.
Sweating.
King's Landing was hot, but the hall wasn't.
His eyes met mine.
Then immediately moved away.
Interesting.
I didn't drink.
"Something wrong?"
Aerys was watching me.
Every eye at the table followed.
Perfect.
I lifted the cup slightly.
"I don't like this wine."
Aerys stared.
Tywin's eyes moved to the cup.
The servant went pale.
There.
That was enough.
I threw the wine into the servant's face.
He screamed.
Everyone moved at once.
The servant ran.
"SEIZE HIM!"
A Kingsguard knight lunged.
The servant knocked over a chair and bolted toward the side doors.
I was already moving.
"Tycen!"
My father's voice followed me.
I ignored it.
Probably another mistake.
The servant reached the corridor.
I followed.
He was faster.
Older legs.
Longer stride.
But he didn't know where he was going.
I did.
Five years ago, I'd spent months exploring these halls with Rhaegar.
I turned left.
He went straight.
I cut through a smaller passage used by servants and nearly collided with a maid carrying linen.
"Sorry!"
I burst through another door.
The servant appeared ahead.
His eyes widened.
"Hello."
He turned.
Too late.
I tackled him.
Or tried to.
He outweighed me considerably.
My shoulder hit his waist and we both crashed into the wall.
Pain shot through me.
He grabbed my hair.
"Bastard!"
He slammed my head backward.
Stars.
Then his hand went beneath his tunic.
Knife.
Of course.
I caught his wrist with both hands.
The blade appeared inches from my face.
He was stronger.
Much stronger.
My arms shook.
Five years of training didn't change the fact that I was twelve.
So I didn't try to overpower him.
I kicked his knee.
He grunted.
Not enough.
The knife moved closer.
I shifted my weight and let go with one hand.
His strength carried the knife forward.
I turned my head.
Steel passed my cheek.
I drove my thumb into his eye.
He screamed.
The knife dropped.
I kicked it away.
Then a white cloak filled the corridor.
The servant barely had time to look up.
A mailed fist struck his jaw.
He collapsed.
Ser Barristan looked at me.
Then the unconscious servant.
Then me again.
"You chased him."
"Yes."
"Alone."
"Not intentionally."
Barristan stared.
"Your father is going to kill you."
"Then perhaps you should let the poisoner do it. It might be quicker."
Barristan's mouth twitched.
"Up."
It wasn't until we returned to the council chamber that I discovered the obvious problem.
The servant had poured from the same flagon.
For everyone.
Aerys.
Tywin.
Me.
None had drunk.
The king stood beside the table, furious.
"Poison."
The Grand Maester examined the cup.
"Possibly, Your Grace."
"Possibly?"
"We must test—"
"Then test it!"
The servant was dragged inside.
Blood ran from his nose.
One eye had already begun swelling.
Aerys descended on him.
"Who sent you?"
"I—I don't know what you mean—"
Aerys kicked him.
The room went silent.
"Who sent you?"
"No one!"
Another kick.
I looked at Tywin.
He wasn't watching the servant.
He was watching me.
That was worse.
Aerys ordered the man taken below.
"Question him."
Everyone knew what that meant.
As guards dragged him away, I looked at the wine.
Something bothered me.
Not the smell.
The servant.
His panic had begun before I threw the wine.
Fine.
That suggested guilt.
But he'd poured Aerys's cup first.
If the flagon itself was poisoned, why wait for me to drink?
Why not run immediately?
Unless—
"Don't torture him yet."
Silence.
Aerys slowly turned.
I became very aware that I was twelve.
Tywin's expression said I had perhaps ten seconds to explain myself before he personally removed me from the room.
Aerys stepped closer.
"What did you say?"
I bowed.
"Forgive me, Your Grace. But if he's tortured now, he'll say whatever he thinks will make it stop."
The king's eyes narrowed.
"And?"
"We'll get an answer."
I looked at the servant's abandoned tray.
"Not necessarily the truth."
Tywin spoke.
"What are you thinking?"
Good.
Permission.
I pointed toward the flagon.
"He poured for the king first."
"Yes."
"Then you."
"Yes."
"Then me."
Aerys's patience thinned.
"We all saw it."
"If the wine was poisoned, he tried to poison all three of us."
"Obviously."
"Then why was he watching me?"
Silence.
Tywin's eyes sharpened.
I continued.
"He wasn't watching Your Grace drink. He wasn't watching my father. He was watching me."
Aerys looked toward the cup.
I could almost see suspicion changing shape inside his head.
"Test every cup separately," Tywin ordered.
The Grand Maester hesitated.
Aerys snapped, "Do it."
The result came before sunset.
A small dog drank from Aerys's cup.
Nothing.
Tywin's.
Nothing.
Mine.
The animal began vomiting within minutes.
It died before the hour was finished.
Only my cup had been poisoned.
That changed everything.
Including my father's mood.
Unfortunately.
"You chased an armed man."
We were alone.
Tywin's solar.
The door closed.
I considered lying.
"No?"
His stare killed that idea.
"Yes."
"You were poisoned."
"Attempted."
"You then chased the poisoner."
"Yes."
"Without a guard."
"Barristan was behind me."
"You did not know that."
"No."
Tywin stepped closer.
"Do you believe yourself immortal?"
"No."
"Then stop behaving as though you are."
I said nothing.
He was right.
That was irritating.
"I saw an opportunity."
"You saw a fleeing man."
"Same thing."
"No."
His voice hardened.
"That belief will put you in the ground beside your mother."
That silenced me.
Tywin knew it.
His expression shifted slightly.
Not apology.
Tywin didn't apologize.
"Explain the cup."
I welcomed the change.
"The poison wasn't in the wine."
"We know."
"It had to be placed in my cup before the servant poured."
"Yes."
"So either he prepared it, or someone gave him the cup."
Tywin nodded.
"The cups came from the royal kitchens."
"How many people touched them?"
"Unknown."
"Then the servant might not know who actually wanted me dead."
"He ran."
"Because he knew something was wrong."
"Or because he poisoned you."
"Maybe."
Tywin studied me.
"You don't believe it."
"No."
"Why?"
I thought back.
The sweating.
The eyes.
The panic.
"He was afraid before I noticed."
"That suggests guilt."
"It suggests knowledge."
Tywin said nothing.
I continued.
"If he wanted me dead, why use poison and then stand beside me while I drank it?"
"Servants are often used because they are disposable."
"Exactly."
I walked toward the table.
There were several cups there.
I picked one up.
"Suppose someone gives me this and says, 'Make certain Lord Tycen receives this cup.'"
"Why would you obey?"
"If I'm paid."
"Coin."
"Or threatened."
Tywin's eyes narrowed.
"Continue."
"I know something is wrong. Maybe I don't know what. Then I see myself standing beside the person I'm supposed to give it to."
I put the cup down.
"I'd be nervous too."
Tywin was silent for several seconds.
Then:
"Better."
One word.
Praise.
And correction.
I'd learned to recognize both.
"What do we do?"
"We?"
"Someone tried to poison me."
"Which is precisely why you will do nothing."
"No."
The word left my mouth before wisdom could stop it.
Tywin looked at me.
I corrected myself.
"I mean—I think that's a mistake."
"Explain."
There it was again.
A chance.
Five years ago, I might have simply obeyed.
Now I had something useful to say.
"If whoever did this thinks the servant is being tortured, they'll assume he'll eventually talk."
"Yes."
"So they'll hide."
Tywin's expression changed.
I continued.
"But if we release him..."
"No."
"Not actually."
That got his attention.
"We say he escaped."
Tywin stared at me.
Just like Renn.
The thought came to both of us.
Five years ago, a prisoner had disappeared from a locked cell.
Now we could use the same trick deliberately.
"We spread word that the servant escaped before questioning."
"And?"
"Whoever used him will panic."
"Perhaps."
"They might run."
"Perhaps."
"Or try to find him."
Tywin's fingers tapped once against the table.
"Where would you put him?"
"Somewhere controlled."
"Where?"
I thought.
Not the Red Keep.
Too many servants.
Too many ears.
"One of our houses in the city."
"Which?"
I remembered maps.
Properties.
Ledgers.
Things Lord Damon had made me learn because apparently heirs needed to know every roof their family owned.
"The old Lannister warehouse near the River Gate."
Tywin's eyebrows rose.
"It hasn't stored anything valuable in years. Few servants. Two exits. We control both."
"And if someone comes?"
"We follow them."
"Not arrest them?"
"No."
That answer came immediately.
Tywin's expression almost changed.
"Why?"
"Because whoever comes probably isn't the person who ordered it."
A long silence.
Then my father sat.
"Sit."
I did.
He poured two cups of water.
I looked at mine.
Tywin noticed.
"Wise."
I switched our cups.
He stared at me.
I smiled.
He drank.
So did I.
The servant's name was Tommen.
Unfortunate name.
He was nineteen.
His mother washed clothing near Cobbler's Square.
His father was dead.
Two younger sisters.
He had worked in the Red Keep for eleven months.
No known connection to any noble house.
That was what the records said.
Records weren't people.
So I asked a different question.
"Has he suddenly spent money?"
The man Tywin had assigned to investigate frowned.
"Money?"
"New boots. Gambling. Whores. Gifts. Anything he couldn't normally afford."
The man looked at Tywin.
Tywin looked at him.
"Find out."
By morning, we had an answer.
Boots.
Tommen had bought new leather boots six days earlier.
Good ones.
Far too expensive for his wage.
"How much?" I asked.
"Eight silver stags."
"Where did the money come from?"
"He told another servant he'd won at dice."
I looked at Tywin.
"Convenient."
"Very."
We moved Tommen that night.
Quietly.
By sunrise, whispers spread through the Red Keep.
The poisoner had escaped.
Aerys was furious.
That part required no acting.
"I WANT EVERY GATE CLOSED!"
Perhaps we should have told him.
Tywin had decided otherwise.
I was beginning to understand why.
Aerys's genuine rage made the lie much more convincing.
Nothing happened the first day.
Or the second.
By the third, I began wondering if I'd been wrong.
Tywin never said it.
That was worse.
On the fourth night, someone approached the warehouse.
One man.
Gray cloak.
My stomach tightened when I heard.
Gray.
Five years vanished.
Renn.
The alley.
The unknown man who had paid boys to follow Rhaegar.
Surely not.
Gray cloaks were common.
Half the city owned one.
Still.
I went with Tywin.
This time, he didn't tell me to stay behind.
That mattered.
We watched from a darkened room across the street.
Four Lannister men waited below.
Two more watched the rear alley.
The man in gray knocked.
Once.
Twice.
Pause.
Once.
A pattern.
The warehouse door opened.
One of our men had taken Tommen's place.
The gray-cloaked man stepped inside.
We waited.
"Now?" I whispered.
"No."
Minutes passed.
Then the man emerged.
He walked east.
Two of our men followed at a distance.
I moved toward the door.
Tywin caught my shoulder.
"We wait."
"I thought—"
"You wanted to follow him rather than arrest him."
"Yes."
"So follow him properly."
Right.
Patience wasn't the same as doing nothing.
That distinction mattered.
An hour later, one of the men returned.
"He went to an inn near the Street of Steel."
"Which?" Tywin asked.
"The Broken Anvil."
"Did he meet anyone?"
"No, my lord. Took a room."
Tywin looked at me.
"What now?"
A test.
I thought.
Arresting him gave us one man.
Watching him might give us more.
But if he realized Tommen wasn't there—
"He'll know something's wrong."
"When?"
"When the person inside couldn't give him whatever he expected."
Tywin nodded.
"So?"
"He may leave the city tonight."
"Likely."
"We can't just watch."
"No."
I thought of Creylen.
Resources.
Harys.
Openings.
Tywin.
What people want.
Renn.
Intermediaries.
Then it clicked.
"We don't need him to lead us anywhere."
Tywin waited.
"We need to know who paid him."
"And how do you propose to learn that?"
"Money."
I smiled.
"People remember gold."
The man had paid for his room with a silver stag.
But his purse held gold.
Three dragons.
Newly minted.
That alone meant nothing.
So we didn't take him.
Instead, Tywin's men took the innkeeper.
Quietly.
Then the stable boy.
Then a prostitute who had spoken to the gray-cloaked man downstairs.
Separately.
Different rooms.
Same question.
Who had he asked about?
All three gave variations of the same answer.
Ships.
He wanted to know which ships were leaving King's Landing before dawn.
He was running.
So we took him.
This time, I did not chase him down an alley.
Progress.
They brought him beneath the Tower of the Hand.
He was perhaps forty.
Thin.
Plain face.
The kind you'd forget seconds after seeing it.
His cloak lay on the table.
Gray.
I stared at it.
"What's your name?" Tywin asked.
The man smiled through a split lip.
"Don't remember."
Tywin didn't react.
I did.
Not visibly.
I walked around the table.
His boots were muddy.
His hands weren't.
No calluses.
Not a laborer.
Ink on the side of his smallest finger.
A clerk?
Scribe?
"You're educated," I said.
His eyes moved to me.
Only for a moment.
There.
"Can you read?"
No answer.
"Write?"
Nothing.
I looked at his cloak.
Good wool.
Not rich.
Better than a common messenger needed.
"You weren't paid to kill me."
His eyes flicked again.
Tywin remained silent.
Allowing me to continue.
That surprised me.
So I used it.
"You paid Tommen."
Nothing.
"But someone paid you."
Nothing.
"Which means you're not important."
That got him.
A tiny tightening around the mouth.
Pride.
Good.
"You're another servant."
"I'm no servant."
First words.
I smiled.
"Then what are you?"
He realized the mistake.
Too late.
I leaned closer.
"Someone paid you to arrange my death. You paid a frightened boy to carry the cup. Then when you thought he escaped, you came yourself because you were afraid he'd expose you."
Silence.
"Which means whoever is above you frightens you more than my father does."
That finally changed his face.
Fear.
Real fear.
Not of Tywin.
Not of me.
Someone else.
And suddenly I understood the most important part.
This wasn't about me.
Or at least, not only me.
"Five years ago," I said quietly, "did you pay three boys to follow Prince Rhaegar?"
His face went blank.
Too blank.
My heart began beating faster.
Tywin saw it too.
"What boys?" the man asked.
Wrong answer.
If he genuinely knew nothing, confusion would have come first.
Not caution.
I looked at my father.
Tywin's face had become terrifyingly still.
Renn had vanished five years ago.
The trail had died.
Until now.
I turned back to the prisoner.
"Who are you?"
The man smiled.
Blood stained his teeth.
Then he bit down.
I saw Tywin move.
Too late.
The prisoner's body jerked.
Foam appeared at his lips.
"Hold him!"
Guards grabbed him.
His eyes rolled.
I stepped back.
The Grand Maester was nowhere near us.
Within moments, the man stopped moving.
Silence filled the room.
I stared at the corpse.
Poison hidden in his mouth.
Prepared.
He had expected capture.
Or feared it enough to plan for it.
Tywin looked down at him.
Then at the gray cloak.
"Search everything."
Guards moved.
I remained still.
Five years.
Someone had followed Rhaegar when we were children.
Now someone had tried to poison me days after I returned to court.
Maybe connected.
Maybe not.
I refused to make the mistake of deciding the answer before I had evidence.
Rhaegar's prophecy books had taught me that much, at least.
A guard turned the dead man's cloak inside out.
Something fell onto the stone.
A small piece of metal.
I bent down before anyone else reached it.
A coin.
No.
Not a coin.
A token.
Black iron.
One side was blank.
On the other was a single stamped image.
A dragon.
But someone had driven a sharp line straight through its middle.
I looked at Tywin.
For the first time that night, my father didn't have an answer.
Neither did I.
But I had something better than I'd had five years ago.
A trail.
And this time, I wasn't going to wait for it to disappear.