Fire and Blood

Chapter 148: Hour of the Blood Moon (Part 2)

Red Keep ― Outer courtyard...

"Why are we dressed like this?" one of the younger men-at-arms, a recruit, grumbled, his voice tinged with annoyance. Instead of wearing the illustrious plates of armor emblazoned with the colors and sigil of House Targaryen, each knight was outfitted in simple, unremarkable garments designed to blend in with the common populace, resembling ordinary peasants rather than the knights they were.

"Prince Jaehaerys's orders," another knight replied, his tone resolute. This officer, slightly older and more experienced than the recruit, grasped the unspoken implications behind the orders they had received. "If we march into Cobbler's Square in full armor, we'll be exposed and risk being overwhelmed. I can't say exactly how many followers this so-called 'Shepherd' has in his flock, but from what we've been told, his numbers are well into the thousands."

Among the fifty household knights, some shared common ground while others were less aligned. Their loyalty to the Iron Throne mandated that they serve dutifully and adhere to the crown's commands. Yet, a small faction among them voiced their reservations regarding the specific orders they were given. Despite being knights, they had donned attire that resembled that of commoners, blurring the lines between their elevated rank and the everyday lives of the people. However, the stakes were significantly heightened if their mission was indeed one of infiltration, reconnaissance, and subterfuge. The potential for exposure and the consequences of failure loomed large, adding an element of danger to their undertaking. The tension between their noble duties and the risks of their covert actions created a complex dynamic that defined their experience as knights.

A silent screech echoed through the open skies, prompting the knights to glance upward. Baela had swiftly taken to flight upon Moondancer but veered her dragon southward away from King's Landing. The knights clutched their torches tightly, yet the flickering flames provided little illumination in the thick darkness that enveloped them. It was the dead of night, marking the beginning of the Hour of the Blood Moon. The moon hung low, its surface transformed into a haunting deep red-brown, resulting from the lunar eclipse that ancient legends warned was an ill omen. This eerie light intensified the unsettling atmosphere.

"Cut the squabble and move along, lads," Gwayne ordered. As second-in-command of the City Watch, he gathered as many gold cloaks as possible from beneath the Tower of the Hand. In addition, being the brother of Queen Alicent Hightower, he volunteered to help his niece and nephews arrest the Shepherd and disperse his followers before the crazed priest could create more chaos in King's Landing. Even from this vantage point, high on Aegon's High Hill, Gwayne could still hear the Shepherd's maniacal rants echoing. "Haaah, how I wish that old fool would just hold his tongue already."

"He will soon enough, uncle," Aegon declared as he entered the dimly lit courtyard. Clad in dark-hued Lykirī Mēre acolyte's robes, he moved with an ease that set him apart from the other knights, his every motion fluid and silent. Hidden blades were secured within intricate bracers on each wrist, discreetly concealed beneath the folds of his sleeves. Aegon the Younger was poised for violence, ready to stain his hands red if the situation demanded it. Merging with the shadows, he prepared to unleash the deadly skills honed through years of rigorous training as an assassin. "Personally, I'd rather cut his throat and tear out his tongue myself after what he said about Viserys and mother. Huh, he'll never see it coming."

"'Never see it coming' because it is fucking madness."

"Aegon, uncle, please don't start! If you both get too ahead of yourselves, you'll likely end up dead. And then how will I explain it to our poor mother?" Aemma scolded as she arrived, her tone sharp and filled with urgency. To conceal her identity as a Targaryen, she deftly rolled her long, flowing Valyrian silver-white hair into a neat and compact bun, ensuring it would not draw any unwanted attention. This carefully arranged hairstyle was cleverly hidden beneath a large boy's hat, obscuring her identity and adding boyish charm to her appearance. To conceal her regal features further, Aemma enveloped herself in a dark, heavy robe that draped around her figure like a shadow, effectively masking her silhouette. The fabric billowed slightly as she moved, creating an additional layer of protection against recognition. Each element of her disguise was meticulously chosen, reflecting her determination to blend into the crowd and evade any suspicion that might arise from her true lineage.