Not All Men Dance With Dragons

If You Think This Has A Happy Ending...

Something didn't feel right.

There was something bone-deep that kept Jorran restless into the long hours of the night and that got him walking. Everyone had only been gone for a few short hours but they would make home long before them if he started off at that point.

Jorran wanted to. He wanted to leave because something was wrong.

The halls of the Red Keep were shockingly desolate and quiet in a way they had never been. There were always servants or guards pittling about in the dark to keep Jorran on his toes but at that point there were none. It had the hair on his arms standing on end. There was no way he could sleep so he returned to his stalking in the darkness.

He wasn't the only one who had that idea though. Morning was fastly approaching and Jorran pulled himself to a quick stop when he heard whispers around a corner. Barely there light from a torch being lit seemed to leak into view and reach the end of the hall that he was hiding behind. The council chambers were the only thing of note in that hall and there was no reason to have a meeting so late.

...Something didn't feel right.

There were secret passages built into the walls of the Red Keep. No one knew just how many or where every single one of them was or went. Maerys knew a few. Jorran knew a few more.

There was one in the wall of the council chambers that was no doubt formed with paranoia in mind for a reason such as that night. When liars and usurpers gather around to proclaim the king was dead and immediately begin plotting around the easiest way to install Aegon as king in his stead. Rage began to boil in Jorran's gut but he had to be silent even though seeing their faces through the gaps in the wall only had him reaching for the hilt of one of his swords.

"And Prince Maerys?" Tyland Lannister questioned, making Jorran's attention snap to him. "Despite holding no particular love for his brother, he has always preferred Rhaenyra and her children."

The men around had no immediate answer but it was, of course, Otto that came to remind them. "We have his daughter. He will be forced to accept our terms as long as we have her."

"And when he raises the Belaerys family against us?" Of all people, Jorran's own father snapped back at the Hand. Since when did he actually understand the situation at play? "What clever plan will defend the city from five grown dragons when they come to take her back?"

"Lord Baenar would not start a war-"

"That accursed son of his would. Without hesitation."

The only person that had the gall to speak out against it was the furious Master of Coin, Lyman Beesbury, who snapped that he has known Viserys longer than any of the others on the small council, and refused to believe Viserys would change his mind on his deathbed, angrily accusing them all of treason. Grand Maester Orwyle tried to calm matters beside him, but Lyman refused to be silenced. Even going so far as to insinuate one or more members of the small council committed regicide, given Viserys was well enough the previous day.

Before he could say more, Criston Cole angrily seized Lyman and forced him back into his seat; unfortunately, the force Cole used slammed the frail Lyman's head into the table. A crunch was heard before the blood pooled around the old man's cracked skull and the horror waved through them all.

Despite himself, Jorran gasped before his hand clapped over his mouth but it was too late. Cole was turning in place with that same mad dog look that he had back at Rhaenyra's wedding before stomping toward the wall. His fist went through the thin paneling and tangled in the front of Jorran's coat, wrenching him free though he struggled. The whole of the room shot from their chairs and moved away as Jorran slammed down onto the tabletop alongside Lyman's body.