Chapter 13
Rhaekar
“Agents report that the Hightowers have withdrawn to their desmense,” Larys continued. “They seem to have taken the army’s distraction with the recent war and have fled west to lick their wounds. The good news is that it is highly unlikely they will renew their offensive.”
“Cowardly idiots,” muttered Hugh. He drummed his fingers on the armrest of the Iron Throne. Somehow, his fingers missed every one of the blades as they tapped the hard surface. “They could march on King’s Landing just as I did. I had less troops than they, and I took it by force.”
They do not have dragons, Rhaekar thought.
“What is our plan of action, your majesty?” asked Lord Addam Velaryon, the Iron Throne’s master-at-arms.
“Plan of action? I intend to march on Oldtown and put the entire city to the torch,” Hugh declared. “The Hammer shall fall upon the Citadel and knock it to the ground! The Hammer shall fall upon the Starry Sept and obliterate it from the face of Westeros!”
Rhaekar blinked. He had remained quiet for much of the meeting, but decided here to finally speak up. “Your majesty, have you forgotten that the High Septon was loyal to you? He is currently under house arrest by the Hightowers.”
Ronnet Rambton, the Septon of Sharp Point, spoke up as well. “I must agree with Lord Rhaekar, your majesty. It would be unwise to cause his eminence to suffer the same fate as traitors. He has risked his life to show the faithful’s loyalty to the throne.”
Hugh snorted. “Do I look like I give any of the Seven Hells for any of that? The Hightowers expect me to show mercy on account of how old their city is. Well, they shall receive none!”
It was Addam Velaryon who stepped forward now. “I must echo the concerns of Lord Rhaekar and Septon Ronnet, your majesty. We are already trying to quell enough feelings of rebellion as it is. If you place the smallfolk of Oldtown to the torch, and the High Sept with them, you will be encouraging more lords to rise up against you. Most of the Crownlands, the entire Reach, the North, and even the Vale might raise their banners to avenge the Hightowers and High Sept.”
Hugh snarled at his master-at-arms. “Silence, you fool. I fed one of your kinsmen to my dragons rather than let him hang in the Dragon Forest. Do you wish to suffer either fate? If any lords want to raise their banners, they too shall suffer the same fate. I will ignite all of the six kingdoms on fire if it will mean peace. Let that slut in the Vale rise against me! The Targaryens showed her ancestors that dragons can reach that high castle of theirs. Let the Reach rise against me! Their green fields shall be basked in flames yet again. And the North? Once they see the power I possess, the wolf shall cower to his knees for the second time in history.” The king spat, the fluid dropping on the cold ground before him. “That is what the throne says to all who oppose it! That is what the Hammer says to any foolish nails that stick up from the wood!”
Rhaekar and Larys exchanged glances. It only lasted a second before each man returned their gaze to the king. Addam Velaryon’s pale face was turning a hue of red, but somehow he kept his mouth shut. Hugh seemed to take notice of it, for he laughed and added, “What say you, Lord Addam? Something smart? Need I beat you into a pulp as I did outside the gates of King’s Landing, when you aimed to subdue my rebellion?”
Lord Addam turned his gaze away. Septon Ronnet and Grand Maester Orwyle likewise turned their heads away, a sad expression on both their faces.
Hugh grinned wide. His mustache, which had grown more unkempt the past few days, spread out its hairs like the wings of a dragon. “Ah, no more complaints? Good. Then we leave in a few days. Unicorn Prince, prepare your men.”
With that, the small council was dismissed. Rhaekar left with Larys, the two men stepping towards the castle sept. Neither one spoke as they walked. Rhaekar had plenty on his mind, but sensed that Larys did as well, and was holding his tongue. Once they were in the sept, and it was clear no one else was, Rhaekar at last spoke:
“The man is insane.”
“That he is.” Larys folded his hands together and gazed forward, at the altar.
Rhaekar sighed. “What worries me is not what he says before the small council, but the fact that I cannot believe he is bluffing. He truly believes in what he says, and intends to carry it out.”
“That he will. If the Dragon Forest is any hint, his cruelty will cause Westeros to be covered in blood from Dorne to the Wall. I would honestly be surprised if some of us are not hung by the month’s end.”
Rhaekar was well aware of the danger. King Hugh had asked that morning when his wife was coming to King’s Landing, and Rhaekar reminded him that she was still recovering from her pregnancy, and Maester Albar suggested she remain in Duskendale for the time being. The king gave strong disagreement with that, forcing Rhaekar to send a raven to Duskendale, asking Albar for an immediate diagnosis. Albar whipped up a fake one, repeating what Rhaekar had suggested. That seemed to satisfy the king. For now.
“He must be stopped,” Rhaekar whispered, “before any more blood is spilled.”
“That will probably happen very soon.” Rhaekar turned and peered at Larys. The spymaster grinned back. “That is one reason I was eager to wait until we were here to speak. I have discovered some very interesting information regarding his majesty. Matters of the flesh.”
Rhaekar shivered. “I care not for the details. Please be terse.”
“Speaking in terse terms, as per your request, it seems that his majesty and Nettles, his fair queen, have not been as intimate as they used to be. She prefers to remain in the field. I hear from agents at her camp that she is not very fond of how cruel he has become. As such, he has been seeking his… marital impulses… elsewhere. There is a tavern in the seedy part of King’s Landing, and there is a Summers Isle whore that our king has been frequenting. He uses a secret tunnel leading there to avoid detection.”
Rhaekar raised an eyebrow. “How secret can the tunnel truly be if you know about it?”
Larys grinned and tapped the side of his nose. “My dear Unicorn Prince, you should know that, as spymaster, all secrets are known to me. The only thing I cannot tell is the future, and I leave that to the Seven.”
Rhaekar had to imagine Larys was speaking with an eerie truthfulness. He was tempted to ask Larys if he knew what color undergarments he wore, but chose not to. “I see. And what do you intend to do?”
“That is what I wished to discuss. The ground beneath the whorehouse is weak. It is old. It is as decrepit as his majesty’s heart. He does not take the Kingsguard with him, but some gold cloaks instead. This is a mistake on his part: the gold cloaks, by and large, are bitter towards him for what he did to Daemon, as well as many of their own during his dragon’s attack. As such, I have paid them off, so that they are now in our service. Once his majesty goes to visit his favorite black-skinned whore, we will place powder beneath the inn, and...”
Larys held up both his hands, and balled into fists. In a split second, he opened up both, fingers outstretched. Rhaekar studied the gesture for a moment, then nodded. “But… those inside will perish as well?”
“Perhaps, but it will save Westeros. Do you agree with the plan...” Larys smiled. “...Lord Protector?”
Rhaekar folded his hands behind his back, then looked down.
If I become Lord Protector, I could easily just have myself crowned. Rhaekar thought back to his dream, where he had been given two options: a dead child, with a sword and a crown; and a black unicorn, with the Darklyn banners being torn down or burned. He had chosen the second one. Did the first mean he could have the crown, if he spurned the second choice? He pushed back the thoughts, and decided to worry about them later. For now, he had to think about the Six Kingdoms.
“Very well, Lord Larys. Carry out the plan. Let us see if a Strong lord can indeed devise a Strong scheme.”
Later that evening, however, Rhaekar received a surprise visit, as he rested in the library reading. It was none other than King Hugh himself, accompanied by a few footmen. The king made his way into the library and, upon seeing Rhaekar, walked over and smiled.
“I was thinking of going whoring tonight, Unicorn,” Hugh said matter-of-factly.
Rhaekar just shrugged. “I wish you luck in your endeavors, your majesty.”
“Ah, yes,” Hugh continued, that familiar grin curling over his lips. His teeth were exposed under his thick mustache. “But I think you should join me tonight.”
Rhaekar blinked his violet eyes as he stared back at the king. Tonight was the night when the assassination was to take place. The whorehouse was to go up in fire, with the king inside. If it went up, with Rhaekar inside… or would the plan have to be delayed?
“What’s the matter with you, Commander Unicorn? The king asks you to go whoring with him. What do you say?”
When the Hammer says go whoring, a wise man goes whoring, came a thought. Rhaekar finally smiled, then said, “I will gladly go… whoring… with you, your majesty. Just please permit me a chance to change into some lighter clothes.” He began to rise up, intending at once to send a message to Larys Strong. He had to let him know that he would be in the tavern tonight, and that the plan should be delayed.
However, as he was rising, Hugh raised a hand and slammed it down on Rhaekar’s shoulder. The motion nearly broke the lord’s arm off. “Nonsense! You look fine enough. A knight’s armor, a king’s crown, a septon’s robes… it matters not! They all find their way to the floor in a whore’s chamber! I say we leave at once.”
Rhaekar felt his face go paler than it normally was. He quickly forced a smile, and tried to hide any sense of uncertainty in his mind. He was well aware of the danger he was in, but for now… he had to play a mummer’s act.
The whorehouse was a simple abode for the women inside. From the outside, it looked like a regular tavern. On the inside, there was no counter to serve drinks, and all the tables were knee-level, with cushions around. They came up from an alleyway, accompanied by a few footmen as they went into a side door. Rhaekar glanced about the room, taking in the scene. There were already some men inside, speaking or growing affectionate with some of the girls. The footmen walked about and tapped each man with the blunt end of their spear, ordering them to get out. The men would show some hesitation at first, but finally leave when King Hugh made his presence known. His majesty rose high enough to nearly reach the ceiling, and his shoulders and chest were so broad that there was doubt any of the men within could have won a duel with him even in a fair fight. Within a few moments of their entering, most of the men were scared off. After they were gone, the Hammer motioned with his thumb, and the footmen themselves departed out the side door in a hurry.
Rhaekar took notice of the girls. They were all quite different. There was a redhead with rough fingers and a hard face that he could only imagine had come from the North. There was another girl with smooth skin, brown hair, and pretty green eyes that he imagined came from the nearby Crownlands. There were a group of blondes and black-haired girls of a plain, but pretty, demeanor, who he imagined came from the Vale. There were many girls with tanned skin that were likely from Dorne. Other girls sat about the room, and there was no doubt that they came from all parts of Westeros. Some may have even come from Essos or beyond. Truly, the debauchery of the world was trapped in this one location.
The king turned to Rhaekar and grinned. “My girl is up there.” Hugh motioned over his shoulder. A wooden stairway moved up to a second story, disappearing through the first floor’s ceiling. “Want to pick one of your own?”
Rhaekar, for a moment, considered it. He went back to the brunette from the Crownlands, who had caught his fancy the most. It was then that he noticed something had only been seen in passing, but which now came through with great clarity. The brunette had, under her eye, a bruise. It was a dark shade of purple, going along most of her cheek. It reminded Rhaekar of those who had survived greyscale, with the hardened flesh to prove it. As he considered the other women, he saw they all had similar bruises. One of the Vale girls had a swollen eye, while one of the tanned Dornish girls had bruises along her throat that must have come from a hideous throttling. Each and every single girl had some wound that could have only come from some form of physical abuse.
“I can vouch for their use,” King Hugh proudly declared, “I have had them all!”
I am certain you have. Rhaekar considered the brunette Crownlander girl again. She caught his gaze, and looked down, like a child in trouble. His heart sank. Immediately, any fleshly desires he had within him evaporated. “No, your majesty, I am fine.”
“He comes to a whorehouse, and seeks no whore? You begin to worry me, Unicorn. Perhaps you would rather I take you to some orphanage and pick out a lad for your liking?” Hugh laughed boisterously at that. Suddenly, he stopped. Someone else was laughing with him. He turned and looked to his left. A blonde girl had laughed as well, giving a cute, child-like giggle. Hugh lifted up his great hand, then brought it down. His knuckles slammed right into the girl’s cheek. She yipped and toppled to the ground in a second. Rhaekar gasped, stepping back. The other girls shrieked. “Shaddap!” Hugh cried to the girl. He turned to the other women. “Shaddap! Shaddap!”
Rhaekar stepped towards the blonde girl and kneeled down. When she looked up at him, he saw that her flesh had been cut, and blood dripped down in a slow stream. Her gaze lasted only a second, then she jerked her head away. Her blonde hair covered her face as she dropped her head to her arms and wept.
“Come on, Unicorn.”
Hugh stepped past him, towards the steps. Rhaekar felt his heart wince inside him. He wanted to stay and make certain the girl was attended to, but knew he could not. He planted one sympathetic hand on the girl’s shoulder, then stood himself up and followed after his king. The stairway creaked mightily under Hugh’s immense, muscled weight, but gave barely a whimper at each of Rhaekar’s steps.
“Perhaps you will change your mind once you meet the Summer Isle whore,” Hugh said. “They are far less prudish than women in these lands. They will do things freely that other whores demand more coin for!” He laughed. “The Others take our women, as far as I am concerned. I should conquer the Summer Isles and carry women back for a little harlem. Would that be a good endeavor?”
“Perhaps, your majesty,” Rhaekar said. Play the game, he thought, just play the game… until you see a way out.
They reached the top of the steps, coming to a small hallway. Hugh led Rhaekar down the hall towards a door at the end, which he opened. “Go on in, Unicorn.”
Immediately, Rhaekar pondered if this was a trap. However, Hugh didn’t seem prepared to strike him, even though he could have easily crushed his skull with those giant hands of his. What’s more, when Rhaekar came to the door, he saw, inside, no other persons. No guards, no possible agents, nobody.
Not even the Summer Isles whore.
“Go on in! Whatever is the matter with you?”
Rhaekar’s heartbeat started to escalate. He paused for only a moment longer, then stepped inside. His violet eyes looked around, trying to see if anything was a potential trap. He saw a window with curtains drawn over them. He saw a candle sitting on a small table in the corner, providing what little light was in the room. He saw a plain bed, the sheets pulled back, with a few chairs beside it. He saw a barrel that looked brand new, resting on the wall opposite a bed. A round wooden top rested over it.
Hugh entered and shut the door. His broad shoulders nearly covered the door itself.
“Where is the Summer Isles girl?” Rhaekar asked.
“Oh, she is here,” Hugh said.
Rhaekar’s heart beat faster. His teeth began to grind against each other as he felt a chill run through them. He turned to face the king, then backed up. There was a desire to make as much space between them, but given the king’s size, and the smallness of the room, there was only so far he could go. The king took notice of his retreat and gave a toothy smile. “What is the matter, Unicorn? Do not tell me this is your first time? Who got your dragonspawn pregnant, then?”
“Where is the woman?”
Hugh chuckled. “She is here, I told you. Do you not listen to me? I listen to you, do I not?” He walked over to the barrel and lifted up the top. Inside, Rhaekar saw red wine slosh about like the water of a calm lake.
“I am not thirsty,” Rhaekar said reflexively. If he were able to return to his own private quarters and lock the door, he would gladly sip whatever alcohol was available and let it calm his nerves, but at the moment he could not. Right now he didn’t want to lose any degree of his senses around King Hugh.
“You are not thirsty. You do not want a whore. Are you worried about something?”
He is toying with me, came a sudden realization. Rhaekar’s hand rose to his side, where his sword would be, but - having no weapon - merely pressed his palm there and pretended to wipe dust off his trousers. “I am fine. It is just the hour.”
“Really, you should relax. I know it is your first time with a Summer Isles whore…”
Hugh reached his hand into the barrel, right into the fluid. Rhaekar parted his lips in surprise, uncertain what Hugh was doing. Then, as he lifted up his hand, Rhaekar noticed the wine stuck to his arm much more than wine normally would.
“...but I promise she does not bite.”
Rhaekar’s violet eyes widened.
Out of the barrel, King Hugh raised a woman’s head. She was dark-skinned, nearly charcoal. Her spongy hair, wet from the liquid, clung together in Hugh’s fingers. Her eyes were rolled back under her eyelids, the whiteness contrasting sharply with her skin. Her thick lips were parted, and her mouth hung open. Her neck was severed roughly, but to Rhaekar’s horror, her spinal column was still attached, and moved down into the barrel. It was then that Rhaekar realized the red fluid was not wine… it was blood.
Hugh parted his blood-stained fingers. The head dropped unceremoniously back into the barrel, where it sank under the blood and disappeared. The king laughed and wiped some of the blood off on his clothes, leaving stains all down the front of his tunic. “Summer Isles whores bleed a lot, eh? But I am certain unicorns bleed even more.”
“W-what?” was all Rhaekar could stammer.
“I told you, Unicorn, I listen to you. Even when you do not think I am listening.” Hugh turned to fully face Rhaekar. His shoulders leaned back, bringing his height and size to full bear. “I know that your wife was here when I took King’s Landing, but you sent her to Duskendale. I know that she gave you a daughter. I know that your wife is perfectly healthy for travel, but you are preventing her from being brought here.” The steady drip-drip-drip of blood from one of his fingers onto the floor sounded under his speech. “And I know you intend to kill me.”
Rhaekar felt his breath leave him. He felt a chill come over his face as every bit of blood left the veins therein. The king must have seen all this, and sensed the anguish going on inside of him, for he laughed. “Cut the mummer’s farce! Yes, I know, Unicorn! I know quite well! Lord Larys Strong told me about it all when I pressed him! You wanted to blow up the tavern as the Summer Isles whore and I tumbled under the sheets. You would be made Lord Protector of the Realm. What would you do then, hm? Crown yourself? Crown your dragonwhore wife? Or maybe even crown my wife, perhaps?” Hugh’s voice was getting louder. It was making the floorboards shake. “Do not think I am foolish enough not to know how the two of you have been friendly to one another. Do you know what Nettles told me the last time I saw her? That I was getting too cruel for her. That she fantasized about you when she was alone in her tent at night. Not me, but you!”
Despite the situation, Rhaekar felt a blush of embarrassment come over his cheeks. He knew Nettles had probably said that just to anger the Hammer, but now the Hammer was using it against him. “Your majesty, I swear upon the Seven we have done nothing-”
“Shaddap!” screamed the king. “I know that! Lord Larys tells me you do little more than gawk at serving girls every now and then. I also knew quite well you would probably refuse a whore tonight!” He reached over to his short sword and yanked it out. In his great hand, it looked little more like a dagger. “But I needed a quiet place to murder you.”
Rhaekar held up both hands. “Your majesty, let us talk reason…”
“Shaddap! Reason is for the weak! The throne is not ruled by reason, but by iron, blood, and fire! That is how the Targaryens ruled, and that is how the Hammer rules!” He took a few steps forward. His feet made the floor shake with each step, causing Rhaekar’s knees to grow week. The lord desperately tried to think of an escape out of this, but knew the minute he turned, Hugh would send the sword through his back. “I will kill you here, and Lord Larys will have the rumor spread that you died at the hands of the Summer Isles whore, who escaped.” He laughed. “Then I will hold a funeral here, and your wife and daughter will attend - and I will kill them both!”
Anger against Larys flashed in Rhaekar’s mind. This was betrayal at so many levels. Both he and Larys had both plotted to kill the king, but Larys had thrown Rhaekar to the dogs to save his own flesh. Or perhaps that was Larys’s plan all along? To root out traitors by feigning treachery to entrap traitors.
Hugh’s hand lunged out. Rhaekar tried to back up, but couldn’t escape the length of the king’s arm. Those large, powerful fingers wrapped around his throat and tightened. The grip was so hard that air was at once shut off. Rhaekar opened and closed his mouth, desperately trying to take in air that he could not. He gripped the king’s wrists, trying to pull him off. Using his great strength, Hugh lifted him up off the ground. Rhaekar’s boots dangled helplessly below him.
“Remember what I told you on the day I took the throne?” Hugh asked. “Unicorns hang as well as dragons!”
He pulled back the sword, preparing to thrust.
Rhaekar kicked for the king’s groin. The boot hit home.
Hugh screamed in agony. He didn’t let go of Rhaekar, but lowered him back to the ground as he hunched over. At once Rhaekar slammed his fingers, nails-first, against the king’s upper arm. He pulled down. His nails slashed at the king’s skin, drawing blood. Hugh growled and tossed him aside. Rhaekar bounced off the wall and fell to the floor. As the king growled, hunched over, gazing at the blood going down his arm, Rhaekar lay on the ground, gasping and croaking as the air returned to his lungs. The king cursed under his breath. He raised his sword and brought it down towards Rhaekar. The lord could see the sharp end flying towards his back, but rolled. The sword went through the wood, up to the hilt, like a hot blade piercing butter. Hugh pulled back, and found the sword stuck.
He tugged again, harder, and in that time Rhaekar stood and snatched a nearby chair. He swung and delivered a hard blow to the king’s face. Hugh’s face jerked to the side, spit spewed against the wall. The chair shattered into chunks of wood. Rhaekar had only the back of the chair in his hands, but he prepared another strike. Hugh let go of his sword and snatched Rhaekar’s wrist. He grabbed Rhaekar’s throat with the other hand. Before the lord could react, he was lifted off the ground like a child and dumped onto the bed. The piece of chair fell from his grip. Rhaekar looked up and saw a fist come right for his head. The impact felt like someone had dropped a stone on his face. He tasted blood in his mouth. Most blows came down on his belly and chest. He had little time to stiffen his muscles or block – all he could do was take it. He felt fist after fist striking him, bruising him, sending pain into every inch of his torso. Then his shoulders were grabbed and he was tossed across the room.
Rhaekar fell against the wall, just beside the barrel. His head was dizzy, and his body ached from the abuse. He pushed himself up on an elbow, but had little strength to do anything else. His cheek stung, and he was certain that purple had formed in the skin. As his violet eyes finally focused again, and the blurred room returned to normal, he saw the King hunched over again. At last he pulled the sword from the ground and fell onto the bed. He looked down at his arm and saw the blood seeping from the scratches Rhaekar had made. He growled and looked down at the lord.
“Look at you! You pathetic piece of filth! When I won the throne, I could have slain you like I did the Targaryens, but I chose not to! I made you commander! I would have made you my master-at-arms! I could have made you one of the most powerful men in the Six Kingdoms! But no... but NO! Instead you betrayed me!”
Out of the corner of his eye, Rhaekar saw the door slowly open. The Crownlander girl stood there, staring lifelessly into the room. Her brown hair cascaded over her shoulders, shrouding the smooth skin of her face, throat and collarbone. Hugh just continued to harangue Rhaekar:
“You just had to betray me! You had to betray me like they all did! And for what? For what reason did you betray your king? Just because I was going to string up your dragonslut wife and that little unicornspawn of yours?”
Hugh drew closer to Rhaekar, the short sword aimed for the lord’s chest. Behind him, the Crownlander girl entered. Following her were the Vale girls, the Dornish girls, the Northron girls, and all the other girls in the whorehouse. Even the blonde with the freshly bloodied cheek was there. Taking slow steps, they all moved through the door, gathering behind Hugh, who had not even noticed them.
“Well, I have had enough of your bullocks, Unicorn!” Hugh grinned more. Blood stained his teeth. “I am not going to kill you after all. No, I am going to break your bones. Every single one of them. I am going to make certain your head will not be able to turn away. Then, I will murder your dragonslut wife right in front of you.” Hugh’s eyes danced a moment as he searched his mind. “No… no, not murdered. I will have the gold cloaks enjoy her! One after the other! Yes, yes, that will be perfect! I will let you hear what a little slut she is as her screams turn into moans! No, the she-dragon will not be murdered…” He laughed. “But... your little unicornspawn, she, I will murder!”
The Crownlander girl lifted up her hand. A dagger rested in it, blade pointed downward.
“Yes, yes, your precious little heir!” Hugh leered down at Rhaekar, his eyes lit aflame with hate. “I will make you watch as I disembowel her! I will make her cry and weep and beg for mommy and daddy to save her! I will force you to eat her own entrails! I will make you watch as I use all my skills to give her the slowest, most painful death imaginable! Your daughter will suffer, Unicorn, and then, whatever her name is, your stupid little unicornspawn dies”
In an instant, the Crownlander girl’s blank expression changed. Her brows furrowed. Her eyes glimmered. Her lips curled into a dog-like snarl. With a throat-gurgling cry, she leaped.
The girl jumped onto Hugh’s back. One arm wrapped around his shoulder. The other brought the dagger down onto his chest. Rhaekar heard the sound of blade piercing flesh. Hugh screamed and stepped back. The girl pulled the blade out and pierced him again. The king grabbed her arm and swung her over. The girl hit the floor with a thud. The king pulled the dagger out and let it drop. No sooner had he done so, the other girls were on him. They jumped on his legs, on his arms, on his back. Down went the daggers. Again and again. They stabbed him wherever they could. They pierced with their daggers over every inch of his body. The Crownlander girl picked up her own dagger and stood, thrusting into his belly over and over.
Like a mad bull, Hugh screamed and thrashed about. He struck at one girl, then another. He waved his arms and kicked his legs. One girl would be tossed away only to be replaced by another. Blood seeped from every open wound. His clothes became red. His arms and legs were covered with the red fluid he had spilled from so many people by his own hands. Still those attacks came, like ants over a dying animal. Suddenly Hugh found a burst of strength, and began to tear those women off of him, one at a time. He threw them against the walls, on the ground, even against the ceiling. The women collapsed to the floor, alive but clearly exhausted, groaning and huffing.
Hugh fell to his knees. His face grimaced from extreme pain, bearing his bloodied teeth. The veins of his neck bulged. Blood continued to drip from the countless wounds all over his body.
Rhaekar’s hand snatched his throat.
Hugh opened his eyes. The Unicorn Prince was staring right into his face. The short sword was raised parallel to his shoulder.
“Her name is Laena. And she lives!”
Rhaekar drove the sword right into the Hammer’s chest.
Hugh let out another cry as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. It became a gurgle. Blood filled his mouth and seeped over the corners of his lips. His fingers jerked about madly. All at once, the gurgling stopped. The hands went stiff. Without another word, King Hugh Hammer fell onto his back. His body made a thud as it banged against the floor, the sword still plunged in his chest.
Rhaekar took a step back. He realized then that he hadn’t been breathing. All at once, his breath came in deep torrents. His heart thumped madly only for a moment, then settled. The pain in his chest and face returned, although it had entered a more numbing state than throbbing. His violet eyes rested on King Hugh Hammer, who lay there on the floor of a whorehouse, bloodied and pierced.
His body did not stir.
Like something out of a dream, Lord Larys suddenly appeared at the doorway. He looked about the scene, then twice clapped his hands. “Tut tut, girls. Leave.”
The women, many of them with splotches of blood on their dresses, all stood up and left in a steady pace. The Crownlander girl paused momentarily in the doorway, gave Rhaekar a backwards glance, then continued on. Larys stepped in afterward, his large boot thudding against the wooden floor. “A bloody death for a bloody man.”
Rhaekar studied him. “He said you betrayed me.”
“In a sense, yes,” Larys said. A sigh left his lips. “He discovered the rumors of the plot. It was the Summer Isles whore who told him, as she had discovered it from one of my contacts with her. When the king came to me and pressed me on what I knew, I pretended that it was you behind it all, and that I had merely been following your plot, rather than being an active plotter.” He motioned to the sword. “Take that out. If they find his burnt body with a sword in his chest, it will look a wee bit suspicious.”
Rhaekar glanced at the short sword. He planted a boot on Hugh’s belly, then gripped the hilt. With a tug, he tore it from the king’s chest. Once free, he let it drop beside its owner. “You threw the entire plot on me?”
“To make the king think I was not at fault,” Larys explained. “Which permitted the plot to survive, even if it had to be modified. There is still manure underneath this whorehouse, ready to be blown. And believe me when I say I fully intended to save you with my, uh…” Larys chuckled, then motioned in the direction the prostitutes had left. “Agents of my own.”
Rhaekar shook his head. “I never realized the depths of his cruelty. Even here.”
“There is a rule about intrigue, my dear Unicorn Prince, and King Hugh forgot it. That rule is: do not worry about making friends - just worry about how many people prefer you dead. In either case, this works out better for your concerns. The king dies, and everyone else is spared.”
The two men moved down the steps, out the side door, and towards the secret entrance. Underneath, they found the prostitutes scurrying away into the darkness, past the footmen who stood there with torches. As Rhaekar and Larys joined them, the Crownlander girl was there at the end of the mob. She stopped, turned, and caught sight of Rhaekar again. With timid steps, she approached the Unicorn Prince, her eyes never leaving his. Then she turned her head away, pressed it against his chest, and gave him a tight hug. Rhaekar was taken aback, unsure how to respond. As she clung to him tighter, he finally lifted up his arms and returned her embrace. A few seconds later she had slinked out of his grip and was running off down the tunnel.
“Would you like to do the honors?”
Rhaekar turned to Larys. The spymaster held the torch out, the light illuminating both their faces. Rhaekar grinned and gently pushed against Larys’ hand. “I took a beating for you tonight. I think you owe me.”
“Fair comment,” Larys said. He turned and threw the torch. The lit wood twirled in the air before landing on the manure. The flames rose high, and then…
The explosion flew upward. Already bits of stone were tumbling down, as were chunks of wood that had formerly been the bottom floor of the whorehouse. More fire rose up, claiming more of the structure. Within a matter of seconds, it was fully engulfed.
“And so it is done,” Larys said. “And the kingdom is now in your hands… Lord Protector.”
The fire created a glow in Rhaekar’s violet eyes as he watched it burn. He considered that it was most likely now consuming the king’s bloodied corpse, with the king’s sword beside him. It was all there, in one single moment: the blood of the king, the steel of his sword, and the fire of the arson. At that moment, Rhaekar remembered the words of Hugh Hammer himself:
The throne is not ruled by reason... but by iron, blood, and fire…
