The tale of Ice and Fire

Chapter Twenty One

King's Landing, 284 AC

Iclyn was once more in his his chambers, too tired to do anything outside his quarters.
Since he had given birth to a child he hadn't even held, he found himself in no mood to face the outside world. He still went to court whenever he was summoned, but ever since Rhaegar had made his brief appearance, Iclyn had no strength to face all the gossiping whispers and judging glances of the people at court.

He felt alone, more alone than ever. First Rhaegar left him to run away with his sister, then, Rhaella and Viserys had left for Dragonstone with Sōna and Jehar, to get away from the mad king. Aiana and Jaime had gone gods know where after the birth, possibly with his child to protect them from Aerys' madness and now, Rhaegar was gone once more with Ēbrion to fight the rebels at the Trident.

The door of his rooms suddenly opened, distracting the northerner from his thoughts. Maester Pycell entered the room without knocking and closed the door behind himself, leaving the two alone in the princess' room.

“What are you doing here maester? Who do you think you are barging in the Princess' room without being announced or even without permission?” Iclyn accused, slowly raising from the chaise lounge he was sitting in.

Rhaegar's wife hadn't completely bounced back from giving birth, he still carried the aches of the event. After all he hadn't had any incentive to get better: his good-father was mad as a hatter, his husband had left him once more and he didn't even know for sure if his baby was still alive.

“I'm sorry, your grace. I have an urgent letter for you. It's a private one. One not suited for the eyes of the king.” the slimy maester said.

Iclyn had always hated Maester Pycell, from the first moment he was introduced to him. The man had a quality that somewhat accentuated his creepiness. Maybe it was because of the luscious glances the slimy Maester gave him from the first time they had met. The point was that whenever Iclyn was in his presence, somewhere in his brain there was an alarm going off, telling him to get out and put some distance between them.

Iclyn raised his right brow, trying to mask his uneasiness. “Why should I trust you? How could I know you're not trying to set me up as a traitor to get rid of me?”

He could never trust Maester Pycell, the man was slimy, creepy and a coward. Always looking at him with a predator glint in his eyes, even though maesters were supposed to sworn off women. 

“You can trust me, your grace. My true allegiance lies with the house of Lions.” he whispered, afraid to be overheard. After all even walls had eyes and ears in the capital.

Iclyn had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes at the idiot man in front of him. “Are you sure you should be admitting treason in front of a Targaryen princess?” he asked, stressing the name of the family he had married into.

The Maester's eyes popped open in fear. Had he just realised he had been stupidly careless?

“Please, your grace. I beg of you, don't say anything to your kingly father. I will be forever loyal to your house, to the Targaryen family.” he announced, bending his knees and pleasing like the coward he was.

“Get up. I don't need your fleeting words of loyalty. I won't tell my good-father of your disloyalty. Just quit whining.” the northerner said, gently massaging the bridge of his nose, feeling an headache coming.

“Now, what do you want.” Iclyn continued, once the Maester was back on his feet.”

Maester Pycell took out a small envelope from his robes and gave it to the princess. “I have been entrusted by my lord to give you this letter.”