As much as Steve wanted to find out more about the situation he had found himself in, he had responsibilities to see to first. First and foremost to those under his protection.

As the servants crowded around their party, his eye was drawn to Kelda and her ladies. Eleni was with Toby, and Kelda was holding her head high, but Larra, Alannys, and Darna had drawn together, hands going for clothing that he was pretty sure concealed knives.

“You there, hold!” Steve ordered as he dismounted Fury. He kept his voice low, not wanting to draw the attention of the courtyard at large. The targets of his focus stilled, even as the bustle continued around them.

Three servants, all men, had been overly focused on their tasks, and had missed or ignored the way they had come between the three women and the rest of the group in their aim to take control of the horses. Now they had the look of someone trying to figure out their mistake as every bad thing they had ever done flashed across their minds.

Steve approached the three. “These ladies have just been rescued from the mountains,” he said. “I’d appreciate it if you gave them the space they need.”

The servants looked at the women, and saw the way they shied away from them. “Sorry, milord,” one said.

“I know you didn’t do it deliberately,” Steve said, “but I wouldn’t want to see you get hurt for doing your job.”

The servants glanced dubiously at the women, but whatever they saw gave them cause to think. They gave quick bows, and returned to their task with a touch more respect and wariness than they had had before.

Steve frowned slightly. He hadn’t wanted to give the rescued women a reputation, but he had a feeling he’d done just that. “Sorry about that, ladies.”

Darna, the woman who had vomited in the bushes after butchering her captor, smiled shyly at him, but then hid behind a curtain of blonde hair. Larra and Alannys bracketed her, looking out for her in much the way Kelda looked out for them all.

“Thank you, Ser Steve,” Larra said. Dark russet hair was braided down her back, and she had a very faint burn mark beneath her right eye.

Alannys nodded but said nothing, not wishing to speak in so crowded a space. Green eyes flickered between all who came near, and her spine was rigid.

“Bread and salt, milord,” a new voice said, drawing Steve’s eye.

Steve took the hunk of soft white bread from the man who offered it, dipped it in the bowl of salt he held, and swallowed it down. “Thank you.” The man offered a short bow, moving on to Kelda, where the process was repeated.

Looking around, Steve saw Brandon talking lowly with Naerys, while Keladry and Walt discussed something as they looked over the men. Their mounts had been taken away towards the stables now, and a woman in a fine dress had approached Kelda, several ladies of her own trailing her.

“Brandon,” Steve called. “We should talk.”

“Aye,” Brandon said, looking over. “I’ll have a room prepared.” He broke off to speak with another servant.

“Naerys,” Steve said, “you’re in charge of settling us in.”

She nodded, setting her shoulders like a soldier preparing for battle. “Yes, Steve.”

“...Keladry will be busy with the men, so make sure Toby doesn’t get into too much trouble.”

Her face only grew grimmer. “I’ll do what needs to be done.” She turned, setting her eyes on what was likely the castellan as they supervised the courtyard.

“Keladry,” Steve said, approaching her. “You and Walt have the men handled?”

“Aye Steve,” Keladry said. “We were just discussing it.”

“No chance of quartering them in the castle barracks,” Walt said. “Not with the army outside.”

“Do what you need to, then,” Steve said. “Make sure they’re comfortable.” A thought occurred to him. “Get them a reward. Something to celebrate coming through the mountains in one piece.”

Walt chewed on his cheek, considering. “Plenty of whores in that camp out there, I’d wager.”

“...only if you can ensure they’re clean,” Steve said.

“Camp followers? Not a hope,” Walt said.

“Then no. Sexually transmitted infections are the bane of an army,” Steve said.

“Sexually what?” Walt asked.

“The pox.”

“Ah.”

“We’ll arrange for something,” Keladry said. “A meal from the castle kitchens, or that football game you shared.”

“I’ll leave it in your hands,” Steve said. He looked around, searching for the three kids. He found them talking together, near Kelda and her ladies, as she spoke with the noblewoman who had approached her. He could probably trust the three of them to keep each other out of trouble, or at least to get themselves out of it. But where was Do-

A cold nose touched his hand, seeking pats. He looked down to see Dodger staring up at him mournfully. “Good boy,” he said, scratching him behind the ear. A hind leg beat against the ground as he leaned into him.

“Steve.” Brandon had finished talking with the servant, and was gesturing for him to follow, turning for the door he had arrived in the courtyard so dramatically through. Steve followed, glad he’d left his hammer on Fury, shield slipped onto the harness at his back. Answers waited.

X

Brandon led him down stone halls, adorned by the occasional tapestry of hunting scenes or battles, their boots echoing in the sudden quiet that had descended after the bustle of the courtyard. Claws clicked beside them, Dodger having invited himself along, staying close to Steve’s side. Lanterns lit their way, hanging from iron brackets set into the walls. The castle had clearly been built with practicality and function in mind, any consideration to aesthetics coming afterwards. Eventually they came to their destination, either a small dining hall or a large meeting room, a single long table running its length. Sunlight streamed through glass windows set high in the walls.

As Steve closed the door behind himself, Brandon turned to him.

“I need to apologise,” the Stark said. “I ambushed you with news of our troubles, and forced you to answer in public.”

“If I didn’t want to answer, I wouldn’t have,” Steve said bluntly.

Brandon barked a laugh. “Yet it was still wrong of me. I acted without thinking, again.” He took a seat at the head of the table, staring moodily at its surface.

Steve took a seat two spaces down, on the side. “Stress does that to people,” he said. “Knowing your sister is in danger can’t be easy.”

Fists clenched, and he blew a breath out through his nose. “That misbegotten cu-” he cut himself off. “No. It is not easy.”

“What happened?” Steve asked. “It hasn’t been two months since your wedding, but now it looks like you’re about to go to war.”

“Lyanna did not want to go to King’s Landing, as is her right,” Brandon said. “Father even reached out about Benjen squiring with one of the Kingsguard.”

“Aerys didn’t agree?”

“He didn’t even reply,” Brandon said. “Then, three weeks ago we received a raven from Darry, bearing word from Rhaegar. He said that he hadn’t been able to convince his father to ‘invite’ a different Stark, and that Lyanna should either go to King’s Landing or return North.”

Steve remembered the offer, when he had visited the Starks after the weddings.

“The day after, we found out that Lyanna’s guards had been slaughtered, and she taken by the King’s men,” Brandon said, rage colouring his voice. “The Targaryens have forgotten that they no longer have dragons.”

“Where is Rickard now?” Steve asked. The man had not seemed the type to take this sort of thing laying down.

“He rides for King’s Landing with Lord Arryn and their honour guards,” Brandon said. “They mean to meet with Lord Tully on the way, and make their displeasure known to the scab king in person.”

“The invitations at your wedding,” Steve said. “He has hostages, doesn’t he.”

“‘Guests’,” Brandon said. “We had thought it an honour, but the truth is out.”

“What about Robert?” Steve asked.

“He has taken ship for Storm’s End,” Brandon said. He gave a hollow laugh, and it was clear that he had been unable to speak with anyone about this until now. “We had our horses half saddled, ready to ride to the Red Keep and demand Lyanna’s return, before Father and Jon smacked some sense into us.”

Steve could imagine how a group of angry young men riding into the seat of power of the man who had stolen the sister of one would have gone. “Probably for the best.”

“Aye,” Brandon said. He made to say something, but held his tongue.

“Are they not walking into a trap?” Steve asked.

“Aerys will find their honour guards a fiercer obstacle than Lyanna’s riding escort,” Brandon said. “The Gold Cloaks are lazy and untrained. To even try to take them would mean war.”

“From what I’ve seen of him, he doesn’t seem like the most stable sort,” Steve said. He crossed his arms. “Relying on him to do the smart thing…”

“I hope he tries,” Brandon said, a smile spreading slowly across his face. “The army gathering outside is only one of four.”

“Aren’t they meant to be warnings?” Steve asked. Dodger put his head on his knee, and Steve petted him absently.

Brandon shrugged. “I cannot speak for the south, but we do not make threats we aren’t prepared to carry out.”

“Is there not a quieter way?” Steve asked. “A large conflict would be devastating.”

“Ah,” Brandon said, “I had forgotten the tales of your home settling things with champions.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “We have similar traditions, but I cannot see king scab agreeing to them.”

“I don’t mean a challenge,” Steve said. “I mean ‘quieter’.”

“You mean to mimic Selmy, and sneak the hostages out?” Brandon said. He shook his head slowly. “The Red Keep is no Duskendale.”

“I’ve infiltrated harder targets,” Steve said.

“Truly?” Brandon asked, not doubting, but surprised.

Steve nodded. “If the other choice was a continent wide civil war, it might be best if Aerys was no longer king.”

“That…could complicate things,” Brandon said. “Be wary of who you voice that to.” He smiled faintly. “Not that the idea doesn’t bring me pleasure.”

“What if the worst happens?” Steve asked. “Honour guard or not, if your father doesn’t make it out of the city…”

“Then the Hour of the Wolf will come again,” Brandon said, “but this time there will be no half measures.”

Steve could only imagine what manner of event such a thing had been, to earn such a name.

“You offered to take Lyanna and disappear,” Brandon said suddenly.

“I did,” Steve said.

“You strike me as a man to do what you think is right, and damn the consequences.”

Steve clenched his jaw for a moment, remembering. “I am.”

“My father and Jon left a week ago, but they move with a hundred men apiece, and more still when they meet Hoster,” Brandon said. “They will be slow. A small group could catch up with them before they reached the capital.”

“You want to join them,” Steve said.

Brandon let out a harsh breath. “I do, but I cannot. Lord Arryn charged me with overseeing the muster here, and my father has already had words for me about not thinking before I act.” He leaned forward, looking Steve in the eye. “But you, you could go. Everyone who was at Harrenhal knows the strength of your arm.”

Steve considered the request. He had gained something of a reputation, but that could harm as much as help. He remembered the conversation he had had with Barristan before leaving, words and warnings unspoken but not unsaid. If he arrived prominently amongst a group of high lords come to threaten the king, Aerys’ paranoia could very well overcome what sense he had. If he stayed in the Vale and waited for word of the outcome, he could spend that time training his men, preparing them for should conflict break out…but he had never been one for sitting and waiting.

“After I beat Barristan, Aerys switched him out for Arthur Dayne,” he said. “Didn’t like having a guard who I had shown I could beat, I guess.”

“You think he’s wary of you,” Brandon said, mouth turning downwards. “Enough to react badly if you were with them.”

“If he saw me, sure,” Steve said. “But only if he saw me. My ward Robin is a King’s Landing kid. I reckon I could get in quietly without the King getting wind with his help.”

“A hidden sword could be just the thing,” Brandon said, but he sobered. “It is a great risk you would be taking, and not just for yourself.”

“All life is risk,” Steve said. “If the worst happens, I can at least get Robin out safely.”

“Then I will guarantee the safety of your companions who stay,” Brandon said. “It’s the least I can do.”

There was a knock on the door, and a moment later, a servant entered. “Lord Brandon, Lord Royce has requested your presence.”

“I must see to my duties,” Brandon said, rising from his chair. “Steve, thank you. Your arrival has eased my mind. We may not know each other well, but the Starks will remember this.”

“Getting back one who was stolen - it’s the right thing to do,” Steve said.

Brandon considered him for a moment, thinking on his words. A look of realisation crossed his face. He gave him a nod, and went on his way.

“Come on, Dodger,” Steve said. “Let’s go tell the others.”

X

Steve found his retinue settling into the rooms that had been accorded to them, a compact but comfortable suite. Naerys was directing servants, but it had not taken much to move in, what with their possessions light from the journey across the mountains. Lyanna was shadowing her, while Robin was seated at a round table in the sitting room, peering at something. Toby was nowhere to be seen.

“Robin,” Steve said, “do you have a moment?” He joined him at the table.

Robin looked up, and Steve saw that his attention had been held by the sketch he had done of him at Harrenhal. “Of course.”

Steve regarded his young ward for a long moment. He had filled out since they had first met, shooting upwards in the way that teenage boys did. His hands bore only the calluses of a bowman, rather than that of a tradesman as well. Shooting as he pleased, and not restricted to what he could do in the city, had seen his skill improve steadily. His dark hair was growing long again, and he was due for a cut.

“I’m going to ask something of you,” Steve said.

“Ok,” Robin said.

“It will be dangerous.”

“No, I mean, ‘ok’, I agree,” Robin said.

Steve pursed his lips. “You don’t know what I’m asking.”

“The answer is still yes,” Robin said, shrugging.

“Robin,” Steve said, voice stern.

“Ser Steve,” Robin said. “You hired me as a servant but you’ve treated me as your ward and given me opportunities I never dreamed of. You could ask me to kill the king and I’d say yes.”

Steve hesitated for a moment too long, and Robin blanched.

“Are you really-”

“No,” Steve said. “No. But it does involve the king.” He glanced over at the others. Naerys was just dismissing the servants. “I should give you all the whole story.”

“Toby went to either check on Keladry or badger Walt, I’m not sure,” Robin said. He lowered his voice. “I think she expects Toby to go with his Ma now that we’ve rescued her.”

“Will that be a problem?” Steve asked. He had been watching the family reunion from afar, unwilling to interfere with it, but he hadn’t seen any problems.

Robin shook his head. “Lyanna overheard Eleni speaking with Kelda. She’s happy he got a position with you, like she does with Kelda. Likes how Keladry took care of him, too.”

“Lyanna overheard,” Steve said, raising a brow at Robin, who ducked his head.

“What’d I do?” Lyanna asked. She had approached without Steve noticing, again.

“Gotten up to trouble,” Steve said dryly. “How have we settled in?”

“Well enough,” Naerys said. “But we’re missing most of our less essential possessions, after we pushed through the mountains instead of heading back to Toby’s village.” She seemed put out. “My books are still there.”

“Something to take care of then,” Steve said. “Kincaid said he’d keep them safe, at least.”

Naerys and Lyanna joined them at the table. “What came of your talk with Lord Brandon?” the elder asked.

Steve drummed his fingers on the table. “The three Lord Paramounts, or Wardens, however you call them, are going to confront Aerys over Lyanna’s abduction. Brandon asked me to join them.”

“This is dangerous territory,” Naerys said immediately. “This is beyond minor lords like Hayford and his ilk. If you get caught up in their games, the only way out is through.” Despite her warning, her tone said she knew he had already made his decision.

“I know,” Steve said. “Which is why I’m not going in with my banner flying.”

“As well as it being wrapped up in a cart in a small village on the other side of the mountains,” Naerys said.

“That too. Robin and I will meet up with the lords, and then infiltrate the city ahead of them. We can gather information before they arrive, and if things go poorly, act as unexpected support.”

“Just you and Robin?” Lyanna asked. “That’s…” she held her tongue.

“It is dangerous,” Steve acknowledged.

“You can’t take Keladry and the men?” Naerys asked. She worried at her lip.

“More people will just make it more difficult to slip in,” Steve said.

“What is your plan then?” Naerys asked. “Walk through the gates? Take a ship?”

“We’ll go by the Kingsroad. King’s Landing is a big place,” Steve said. “One more hedge knight and his squire won’t raise any brows.”

“You are somewhat recogniseable,” Naerys pointed out.

“I’ll borrow some plate armour,” Steve said. “Dirty up my face, keep my hair hidden.”

“I know the city well enough,” Robin said. “I know where to stay and where to avoid.”

“And if you’re found?” Naerys demanded. “What then?”

“Then I deal with it,” Steve said.

Naerys pressed her lips together tightly. “You cannot fight the entire city Steve. What if they catch you?! I-we-” she let out a harsh breath.

“Everything will be ok,” Steve said. He leaned forward, reaching across the table to take her hand. “I’m going to help people get their family back, not siege the city.” He squeezed her hand.

“If you do not come back, I’m taking all your gold,” Naerys said. She squeezed back.

“That seems fair,” Steve said.

Almost reluctantly, she let go of his hand, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. Robin and Lyanna seemed very interested in the goings on, but she refused to look at them. “What would you have us do while you journey south?”

“Keladry can take the men and retrieve our gear from the village,” Steve said. “Get some training in along the way, and give the men the chance to see their families before everything goes pear shaped. If it goes pear shaped.”

“They should be able to return before any fighting breaks out, if events in King’s Landing go sour,” Naerys said.

“Toby I’d like to prepare the horses for battle,” Steve said.

“Have you seen that red monster of Keladry’s?” Robin asked.

Steve pulled a face, remembering what the ill-tempered horse had done to the unfortunate Chet. “I mean preparing them to deal with the sounds and smells of it all.”

“I bet you could get good money for a horse trained by Toby,” Lyanna said, expression calculating. “If you could show one off, anyway.”

“Naerys see if you can make some connections with the nobles that are flowing through the place,” Steve said. “Might be prudent, given Keladry’s situation.” He turned to Lyanna. “Lyanna, same for you, but with the servants.”

“Any particular reason?” Lyanna asked. “Want to know who’s sleeping around, who had to sell nan’s jewels to pay for a new suit of armour?”

“Just make friends, for now,” Steve said. He had been spoiled by Nat over the years, with only the most cunning enemies managing to take them off guard. “But if House Burchard or Stoneford send anyone, see what you can pick up.”

“We’ll give them cause to regret any action they take against us,” Naerys promised.

“Good,” Steve said. He let out a faint sigh. “Robin, we’ll leave tomorrow. No point in wasting time, and we’ve got distance to make up.”

“What about today?” Robin asked.

“The day is yours,” Steve said. “Just don’t get up to any trouble that would stop you from riding tomorrow.”

Robin turned to Lyanna as soon as Steve had finished speaking, one shoulder raised in a questioning shrug. She nodded, and then they were rising to their feet, giving a bow and a curtsey to Steve. Robin was on Lyanna’s heels, halfway out of the room before he skidded to a halt, coming back to the sketch he had left on the table. Carefully, he took it up and returned it to his room, before dashing after Lyanna once more.

“What will you do?” Naerys asked, fiddling with the hem of her sleeve.

Steve noticed for the first time that she had changed from her travel clothes, and for a moment his eyes traced the slim fit of the sleeve up to her shoulder. “I was going to check on Keladry and Walt, see how they’d settled the men. You?”

“The library,” she said promptly. “I mean to take advantage while I can.”

“Of course,” Steve said with a laugh. “I’ll see you at dinner tonight then.”

Naerys took her leave, sea green dress swishing from side to side as she walked.

Steve lingered only long enough to finally get out of his armour, leaving it laid out on the floor of his room, and change into something that smelt less of sweat and the road. He would clean it later, but for now, he had people to check on.

X

When Steve found Keladry and Walt, they were with the men on the edge of the growing camp outside the castle. The camp was clearly growing in bits and pieces, added on as new groups arrived and were folded into the whole, rather than starting as a single entity. The tents of his men had been set up in a three by three square, with an open space in the middle. It was neat enough, he supposed, but he marked it down as something to work on. At least it was better than some of the arrangements he had passed by on his way.

There were far more than his eight men gathered within the open space, however. His own men sat in a circle within the tent square, some of the outsiders sitting with them, others standing. A dozen other men were with them, some of them even hedge knights. The scent of roast pork gave him a hint as to why. He made no announcement as to his presence, and joined the small crowd to listen as one of the men, Tim, held court.

“...bold as brass he walked up and challenged the Burned Men he did,” Tim said, gesturing broadly with a meaty bone in one hand, like it was a sceptre of office. “Called them motherless cunts to their faces, said they were cowards for hiding behind their walls.”

“Sure ‘e did,” a spectator said. “Did ‘e fight them all in single combat too?”

“Better,” Tim said. “Lord America convinced them to turn on each other with only a few words, Father as my witness.”

“How’d he manage that?” More doubting.

“Dunno,” Tim said. “But we killed every raper and raider there, and feasted with the rest after.”

“Hang on,” another man said. “You just said you killed every raper an’ raider, how was there any left?”

“These ones were alright,” Tim said, shrugging. He took a bite out of his prize. “They want to kill the Burned Men as much as we do, anyway.”

“Sounds like a load ‘o tripe to me,” one of the hedge knights said. “Reckon there’s sommat else going on, and they was just tired of a bunch of loose c-”

Walt growled. “You want to think very carefully about your words there boy,” he said. “My daughter was one of the rescued, with Lady Kelda Waynwood.”

The hedge knight looked half as old as Walt, but after a brief staring contest, he looked away.

“Lord America said they were different,” Hugo said, broad shoulders near dwarfing any other man there. “So they were different.”

“You just agree with him ‘cause he pays to fill that big gut of yours,” another man said, to much laughter.

Hugo shrugged with a smile, not denying it.

“I wish my lord got us feasts like this for a job well done,” a reedy man said, looking mournfully at the picked over roasted pig that was in the middle of the circle.

“Cut your way through the mountains, rescue a noble lady and her handmaidens from the clans and return them safe, and I’m sure he would,” Gerold said. “We earned this.”

Keladry was sitting with the men, by Walt, and she caught his eye. She cocked her head, questioning, and he shook his own.

“Haven’t heard of this Lord America before though,” another hedge knight asked. “What’s he like?”

“He walked into the mountains with a bunch of half trained smallfolk to rescue a few women, what do you think he’s like?” It wasn’t one of his men who answered, and their tone was half scornful, half admiring.

“He beat Lord Yohn Royce at Harrenhal,” Symon said, quick to his defence.

Impressed sounds came from the listeners.

“I saw Lord Royce fight once,” someone said. “That bronze armour of his is near magic.”

“Lord America’s shield is magic too,” Tim said. “I heard it’d take Valyrian steel to even scratch it.”

“I saw yez arrive earlier, isn’t his shield cracked in ‘arf?”

Tim nodded. “Makes you wonder what did it, don’t it?”

“What kind of man is he though?” the same hedge knight from before asked. “What sort of lord?”

“He’s a good man,” Jon said. Something about his tone made the others listen. “We’d all be dead if it weren’t for him, and our village burned to the ground like as not.”

There was a brief considering silence.

“Think he’ll march with us, if it’s war?”

“He marched into the mountains because the mother of his page was taken a decade ago,” Humfrey said, looking around those listening to them. The scar over his eye lent it a certain weight. “The Stark girl wasn’t taken a month past.”

Steve stepped away, leaving the men to their talk. A lord sticking their nose in would only make things awkward, and he was satisfied they were being taken care of. If he did so with a lightness in his steps, buoyed by their words, that was his own business.

X

A servant guided Steve to the quarters that Kelda and her ladies had been given, seemingly well aware of who he was. The woman kept looking over her shoulder at him as she led the way, sneaking glances that he pretended not to see as he inspected the tapestries they passed.

“One moment, please,” the servant said. “I will see if the Lady is taking visitors.”

Steve gestured for her to go ahead, and she slipped inside with a knock. A short while later, the door was opened again, and he was invited inside.

Kelda and her ladies were not the only ones waiting for him in the sitting room. The lady who had first greeted her in the courtyard was there too, as were three handmaidens of her own. Both ladies had red rimmed eyes, but they wore large smiles as they sat together on a chaise, hands clasped together.

“St-Lord America!” Kelda said. She looked like she would have gotten up to greet him, if it hadn’t meant letting go of the woman beside her. “Cynthea, this is Ser Steve Rogers, Lord America. Ser Steve, this is my sister, Cynthea Arryn. Her husband, Denys, is the Keeper of the Gates of the Moon.”

“Lord Rogers,” Cynthea said, “my sister has told me much about you.” Her hair was a lighter brown than her sister’s, almost blonde, but he could see the resemblance. “Thank you for bringing her back. I had given up hope.”

“It was the right thing to do,” Steve said. He felt like he was saying that a lot lately. He turned his gaze on the other four women they had rescued. “How are you holding up?”

“Well,” Eleni said, speaking for them all. “It is an adjustment, but Lady Kelda taught us much while we were…in the mountains.”

“No one giving you any trouble?” Steve asked.

“The men you spoke to in the courtyard were quick to warn their fellows,” Larra said, tucking a strand of russet hair behind her ear. “The distance has been nice.” She was sitting close to Alannys, as was her preference.

Darna gave him a smile and a nod, but was still content to stay quiet. She had been the most shy of the rescued women over their journey through the mountains, and it looked to remain that way.

“I cannot speak for my uncle,” Cynthea said, “but I know my husband, and he will see you repaid for your deeds. He is supervising the muster with Lord Brandon and Lord Royce, or he would have made your acquaintance already.”

“If that’s something you need to do, I won’t reject it,” Steve said.

“Is there something I could pass on? A request?” Cynthea asked. “I don’t wish to pressure you, but you’ve given me my little sister back.”

A thought occurred to Steve. “Actually…do you know House Burchard?”

Cynthea thought for a moment. “Sworn to House Corbray, yes.”

“I might have a problem with them,” Steve said.

Kelda was frowning in thought. “Burchard? You mean-oh,” she said. “That manner of problem.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, the word conveying the weight of his disregard.

“Not a simple ruling in your favour, then,” Cynthea said. “I had not thought your paths had crossed, from the few tales of you I had heard.”

“They haven’t,” Steve said, “but my sworn sword’s has.”

Cynthea glanced at Kelda, but the younger sister shook her head. “It’s not my tale to tell,” she said.

“I will pass your concerns on,” Cynthea said. “The warning of your disagreement will be appreciated, regardless of our debt to you.” She observed him for a moment, rueful. “I had hoped to grant you yourself a boon.”

“Helping my people is helping me,” Steve said, shrugging.

“Hmm,” Cynthea said, but she kept her thoughts to herself.

“Speaking of your people,” Eleni said, speaking hesitantly. “May I ask where your plans might take my son in the near future? And my father?”

“Walt I’m sending on a task back to your village, to let the men see their families before any trouble starts down south,” Steve said. “Toby will be staying here, close to you.”

Eleni seemed both grateful and concerned. “He still has a place with you, doesn't he?”

“Toby is a valued member of my retinue,” Steve said firmly. “No matter how much mischief he gets up to.”

Cynthea’s handmaidens, quiet until now, joined in the laughter that came at his comment. “He seemed a very lively boy, from what little we saw earlier,” one said.

“That’s one way of putting it,” Steve said. “He nearly gave me a heart attack at Harrenhal when he competed in the horse race, and I’d only known him a couple of weeks then. I can’t imagine how Keladry was feeling.”

“I imagine some strong words were said,” Kelda said.

“To put it nicely,” Steve said.

“Keladry - my boy wouldn’t be alive if not for - you’ll pass on my gratitude, won’t you Ser?” Eleni said.

“I will,” Steve said.

“And that I hope they will continue to watch over him?” Eleni pressed.

“I will,” Steve said again. “I can pass on a request to meet, if you’d like?”

“I, yes,” Eleni said. “I just - I don’t wish to walk the camp.”

“I understand,” Steve said. He felt the mood begin to turn, as all present avoided the reason that Eleni wanted to avoid walking amongst so many soldiers. “Did Toby tell you what he tried to do to get out of wearing shoes when we first got them for him?”

“He has not,” Eleni said, leaning forward in her chair.

“He tried bribery first,” Steve said, leading into the tale. “But when that didn’t work…”

As Steve spoke, moving the room back to lighter thoughts, he watched his audience. All seemed happy to hear of Toby’s antics, but Eleni was drinking it in like a woman dying of thirst, and she wasn’t the only one to do so. Kelda was listening intently, but her eyes were distant, thoughts off with her own son. It would certainly be years before she saw him again, if he survived to see her at all. He spared a moment to hope that they would meet again, and did his best to help her share in Eleni’s joy. It was all he could do.

X

They ate in their quarters that night, seeking to make the most of the evening before they went their separate ways. Toby and Keladry joined them later, coming from a meeting with Eleni, and they both seemed in good cheer; Kel walking like a weight had been taken off her shoulders. They ate and drank their fill as they shared warmth and good cheer, and Steve thought only briefly about the friends he had left behind. For all he and his newfound friends had only been travelling together for scant months they had forged tight bonds, and all knew that this would be their last gathering for some time. Robin and Lyanna sat side by side, shoulders pressing up against each other, and Dodger shamelessly begged for scraps, nose poking up from under the table. In the middle of it all, Steve met Naerys’ eyes, and they shared a smile. They had come a long way from Sharp Point, and if they were lucky, they would go further still.

The next morning there was less cheer, as they gathered in the courtyard to say their farewells. The faint light of early dawn was mostly hidden by grey clouds overhead, and torches lit the yad. It was not only his immediate retinue that had come; Brandon was there, as was Walt and Humfrey, and Steve could even see Kelda and Eleni watching from a nearby window on an upper level.

Steve turned his gaze from Fury as Toby saddled him up with Keladry’s help, shifting his shoulders in the borrowed armour he wore. It was drab and mismatched, perfect for a hedge knight making his way to the city in hopes of finding their fortune.

“I owe you for this, Steve,” Brandon said. His shoulders were draped in fur, and his breath fogged the air. “I can’t help but feel that something terrible awaits my father in King’s Landing.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Steve said. “I’ve promised not to fight the entire city on my own, though.”

“Shame,” Brandon said. “I would put money on you.” He stepped away, giving him space.

Robin was checking his own mount with Lyanna’s help, one of the shaggy mountain horses they had acquired from the clansmen that had crossed their path. He had been given the kind of armour a poor knight might outfit their squire with, a worn gambeson and quilted breeches, and he wore his bow on his back.

Keladry approached, leaving Toby to speak with the horses. “All is ready,” she said. “You’ve supplies to reach the Inn at the Crossroads, but you will need to hunt along the way.”

“Thanks,” Steve said. “Take care of yourself and the men on your own journey.”

“I will,” she said, nodding sharply. “I won’t let you down.”

“I know,” Steve said. “See if you can’t start whipping them into proper shape. I’m going to work them hard when I get back.”

“Something for them to look forward to,” Keladry said.

“Don’t think you’re getting out of it,” Steve said. “You’ll learn to appreciate the suicide run.”

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Joy,” Keladry said, straight faced. Something caught her eye, and she walked over to Walt to share words. Steve gave Walt a nod and received one in turn, and that was all that was needed.

Naerys came to him next, smoothing her hands over her lavender dress. He recognised it as the one she had worn to the feast at the Red Keep. “Steve.”

“Naerys.”

“You will return,” she ordered. Her eyes, clear blue save the faintest hint of purple, pinned him in place, expectation in her gaze.

“I will,” he said.

“Good,” she said. She made to speak again, but couldn’t find the words. Instead she let out a short breath, and squared her shoulders.

Steve tilted his head. “What’s on your mi-”

Naerys leaned in and quickly kissed him on the cheek. “Right. Don’t die. See you in a month.” She turned and marched from the courtyard, cheeks flaming.

Steve watched her go, and he realised his jaw was slack. He closed it with a click, and cleared his throat, ignoring the smirk Brandon wasn’t even trying to hide and Keladry’s blank expression that still, somehow, managed to look amused. “Right, let’s go,” he said. “Robin, you ready?”

Robin and Lyanna had missed the event, caught up in their own embrace. “Aye Ser,” Robin said, startled. The teens released each other reluctantly, and he stepped up into his saddle.

Steve swung himself up atop Fury, and nudged him into a trot. He raised his hand in farewell, and they were on their way, departing into the morning fog. His goal was the city, and a powderkeg of a situation that could lead to continent wide civil war, but he suddenly had a rather more pressing issue on his mind.

His cheek still felt warm.

X x X

They made quick progress, crossing the mountains by the High Road without complications. They were expected at the Bloody Gate and quickly waved through, and given a small resupply too. They rode hard, but their time spent crossing the Riverlands and the Vale had hardened Robin to travel, and Steve was well used to worse conditions. They hunted for their meals of an evening, and slowed only to rest their horses.

Robin had named his mount ‘Scruffy’, and had taken to hunting on it, trying to get him used to the twang of his bow. Whether it was Scruffy’s own nature or Toby’s influence, the shaggy mountain horse seemed to take many things in stride.

They reached the Inn at the Crossroads and restocked their saddlebags once more, and the busy innkeeper did not appear to recognise Steve, although they had only passed through briefly after the weddings at Riverrun on their way to Eleni and Walt’s village.

Their pace gave them little time to talk during the day, and at night they rested, although each evening gave them the opportunity to speak over the campfire. It was after they had crossed the Trident and were headed south towards Darry that a thought occurred to Steve.

“Say, Robin,” Steve asked, interrupting the quiet crackling of the fire and the cricket song around them. “What is a knight supposed to teach their squire?”

“How to be a knight?” Robin asked, caught off guard.

Steve’s mouth quirked, and he rolled his eyes. “Details, I mean. I’ve kind of been making things up as I go.”

“I heard a squire complaining about their duties in the tavern one time, back home I mean,” Robin said. “He was going on about how he had to look after not just his own gear, but his knight-master’s as well, plus their horses, and all he got in return was more work, like learning how to pour wine, what manners and etiquette to use in each kingdom, how to joust in peace and in war, making the same swordstroke hundreds of times…” he trailed off. “It sounded like a pretty good life to me.”

Steve considered his words. “Darn. I don’t know any of that.”

“Keladry would be able to teach you,” Robin said. “She’d know as a noble, even if she didn’t get a knightly education.”

“Not for myself,” Steve said, “for you. If we’re passing you off as a squire, you should know it.”

“I know enough to pass as a squire,” Robin said.

“How’s that?”

“You’ve been teaching me,” he said. “Not the courtly etiquette, or the jousting, but cleaning armour, looking after a horse, how to fight - not that I’d call myself your squire,” he hurried to say.

"Maybe you should, between Kel and me."

Robin gaped at him. “But I’m lowborn.”

“So am I,” Steve said, shrugging.

“What? But you’re Lord America.”

“Everything I am, I earned, in one way or another,” Steve said. He thought back to rickety apartments with draughts that miserly landlords refused to fix, at least until Bucky had a quiet word with them. “We don’t have nobility back home, not in the way Westeros does. 'Lord' is just the closest title to what I was.”

“Squire…” Robin murmured to himself. “I, if you’ll have me, of course Ser.” A thought occurred to him. “What about Keladry? She’s not yet a knight…?”

“Like you said, not yet,” Steve said. “We know she’s done deeds worth being knighted for, but she wouldn’t accept me just granting it to her.”

“Aye,” Robin said, clearly thinking of her quiet stubbornness. He laughed suddenly. “That day at Mott’s forge, I was just hoping to find a place as a servant.”

“You’re doing the work, don’t think I missed you cleaning my armour yesterday,” Steve said. “You might as well have the title to go with it.”

“Thank you, Ser,” he said earnestly, before hesitating “Will I have to learn the sword, though?”

“I think we’ll stick with the bow,” Steve said. “You’re decent enough at it.”

Robin nodded, taking his words as a compliment and not an understatement.

“I don’t know the first thing about which hand to pour wine with, or which fork to use in the Reach,” Steve said. “So I’ll have to focus on the more martial aspects. Have you ever heard the term ‘irregular warfare’?”

“I haven’t,” Robin said, leaning in.

“It’s a term from my home, and it’s to do with ways of waging war that don’t involve large armies,” Steve said. “Given what we’re about to walk into, and my own goals in Essos, I think you could stand to learn about it.”

They spoke until the fire burned down, and the moon peered out from behind the clouds. It was only the start of the lessons Steve had for Robin, and the kid went to bed with his head feeling like it had been stuffed full of information, but he was eager for more. He was a squire now, and this was what squires did. He fell asleep with a smile on his face.

X

They were nearing the road that turned off to Harrenhal when they finally caught up with the Wardens. A camp had been established a ways off the road by the side of a river that fed into the Gods Eye lake, and to Steve’s eye there were at least three hundred men and horses, as well as the followers and servants such a body of men would require. Lord Tully had joined up with them, then.

Steve and Robin watched from a nearby hillside, just inside a copse of trees. It had not been hard to spot the trail left by the group as they left the road, and Steve had been right in his guess that it was the party they sought.

“Should we go to them?” Robin asked.

“Make yourself comfortable here,” Steve said. “I’ll sneak in and make contact with one of the lords; I’ll eat my hat if Aerys or his people don’t have eyes on this group.”

They dismounted, and Robin set about seeing to the horses as the sun neared the horizon, red light cast across the landscape. Steve watched as torches were lit around the camp, following sentries as they made their rounds. Many of the men he saw were armoured in similar fashion to one another, each belonging to the men-at-arms of Stark, Arryn, or Tully, but there were those below who were not. He saw the occasional knight or lord as well, even if none of them were on watch duty. He wouldn’t stick out like a sore thumb, then.

“Help me with this, would you?” Steve asked Robin, as he began to undo his armour straps. They had it off in short order, and he shucked off his socks as well.

“How are you going to sneak in?” Robin asked. “Make a distraction and sneak in the other side? Wait for the sentry change and sneak in then?”

“I think I’ll just stroll in,” Steve said, wiggling his bare toes in the dirt. He grabbed two empty waterskins and slung them over his shoulder.

Robin glanced at the guarded camp full of soldiers, and back to Steve in his shirt and trousers, barefoot. “As you say Ser.”

“How sad for a squire to have no faith in his knight-master,” Steve said, shaking his head, and the reminder of his status was still enough to bring a faint but goofy smile to Robin’s face. “You might as well set up camp here; I’ll be back before too long.”

Steve skirted down the hillside, keeping to the shadows cast by the land in case some eagle eyed sentry caught a glimpse of movement and became suspicious. He made for the river, and when he reached it, he took a moment to luxuriate in the coolness of the water after a long day of riding. He filled his waterskins, and then began to follow the river to the camp, strolling along the riverside.

As he neared it, a sentry spotted him, the man stepping away from the tree he had been hiding his outline by. “Oi, you there,” he called.

“Whaddya want?” Steve called back, still ambling nearer.

“You better not’ve been pissing upstream,” the sentry said.

“I’m thirsty, not daft,” Steve said, showing off his full waterskins.

The sentry grumbled at him, but returned to his post. Steve passed him without further comment, and then he was within the camp. It was organised well enough, and as he passed through it the layout seemed to have the professional soldiers set up on the outside, with the knights and minor lords erecting their tents closer to the middle. He passed by all types as he neared the centre, not the only one apparently stretching his legs after a long day of riding. He was just another man-at-arms making his way back to his own tent.

In the centre of the camp he found his goal, larger and more decorated tents bearing wolves, falcons, and trouts. Each had men guarding their entrances, and patrols around them to boot. The tent that caught his eye though, was a fourth large tent, sans any kind of heraldry. He could see light shining through the white walls, and he would put money on it being a meeting room of sorts for the high lords. It had guards at its entrance too, but no patrols around it.

It was the work of a moment to walk past and behind it, waiting for the moment he needed. When it came, he ducked down to pull at the bottom of the cloth wall, smiling when he found it loose. He pulled it up and rolled under it, looking around quickly as he came up in a single open room. It was empty, save for a long table and chairs. There was a single jug on it, and he could see condensation beading on it. A quick look showed it to be full.

Making sure he stayed out of sight of the half open flap door, Steve took a seat at the table, and settled in to wait.

He did not have to wait long, but it was long enough that the jug of wine started to look slightly tempting.

Movement outside alerted Steve to an approaching group, one of the guards pulling back the tent flap to allow entry. Three figures led the way, discussing something. The lead man, Jon Arryn, stopped mid-word as he noticed Steve sitting at the table.

“...America?” he asked incredulously.

“Jon, Rickard, Hoster,” Steve said, greeting them in turn. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“How did you get in here?” Rickard asked bluntly.

“Pretended to be one of your men to get past the sentries and through the camp, then pulled up the back of the tent and rolled in,” Steve said. “Unless your sentries know everyone by sight or you have firm orders on when men are permitted to leave camp, your perimeter is full of holes.”

Rickard grunted and took a seat at the table, not taking his eyes off Steve. Hoster glanced outside, hand straying to a hip without a weapon at it, but followed suit. Jon joined them, sitting between the two lords. He glanced at the jug of wine.

“Would you care for a cup, Lord America?” Jon asked.

“Please,” Steve said. “I didn’t want to be rude and help myself.”

Jon retrieved a set of goblets at the end of the table and poured four drinks, sliding one over to Steve. He and the others watched as Steve sipped at it.

“Not bad,” Steve said. It was a better version of that ‘Arbor’ he had tried at Harrenhal. The others relaxed, taking sips of their own, and he realised they had been wary of the wine that had been left unattended with a man who had snuck into the heart of their camp.

“It ought to be, it’s five dragons a bottle,” Hoster said, but he was staring at Steve intently.

“I didn’t want to be seen entering your camp,” Steve said, by way of explanation.

“You think we have spies among our people?” Jon asked.

“Better safe than sorry,” Steve said, shrugging.

“Well, you got our attention,” Rickard said. “What brings you here?”

“Your son asked me to join you,” Steve said.

Rickard closed his eyes, just for a moment. “Tell me he’s not here with you.”

“No, he’s back in the Vale, helping with the muster,” Steve said.

“Small mercies,” Rickard said. “How did you get word in time to catch us?”

“Luck,” Steve said. “I was escorting Kelda Waynwood back to the Eyrie and we came across everything.”

Jon choked on his wine. “What!?” he said, Hoster pounding him on the back.

Maybe he could have phrased that better. “I went into the mountains in search of my ward’s mother,” he started to explain. The ward of someone in his retinue was his ward too, right? “We found Lady Kelda as well. She’s at the Gates of the Moon now, with her sister.”

Jon looked at the table blankly. “She was taken fifteen years ago.”

“You’d be surprised what people can survive and overcome,” Steve said.

Hoster spoke up, giving Jon time to regroup. “You don’t intend to ride with us, given your manner here,” he said.

“No,” Steve said. “I mean to ride into the city ahead of you and get the lay of the land. I’ll make contact once you arrive, and share what I’ve been able to find out.”

The three men shared looks.

“Your aid is appreciated, Lord America,” Jon said.

“A warrior like you isn’t to be discounted,” Rickard said. “We’ll like as not need you.”

“We’re not going in search of a fight,” Jon said, turning to Rickard. His words had the ring of an oft repeated warning.

“Aerys killed a dozen of my men when he stole my daughter,” Rickard said. “We’ve already found one.”

“Rhaegar does offer a possible alternative,” Hoster said.

“Rhaegar offers nothing,” Rickard said. “He was very careful in his words to offer nothing.”

“But he is a path forward regardless,” Jon said. “Better a Council than a conflict.”

“Brandon mentioned that Rhaegar warned you that he hadn’t been able to talk Aerys out of his invitation to Lyanna,” Steve said.

“For all the good the warning did,” Rickard said. “He left another message for us at Darry, asking us to delay so he had longer to work on his father.”

“Rickard,” Hoster said. He tilted his head subtly at Steve.

“It’s fine,” Rickard said. “Brandon vouches for him.”

Hoster pursed his lips, but gave Steve an apologetic glance. “You showed your character when you helped my son,” Hoster said, “but yet…”

“I understand,” Steve said. “I’m an outsider.”

“Just so,” Hoster said.

“We do not seek war here,” Jon said, speaking to Steve now, “only justice. Strong as we are, the Reach has more men, and the Westerlands deeper pockets.”

“We’ll get justice, one way or another, don’t you worry,” Rickard said.

“Thank the Seven I convinced Robert not to come,” Jon said. “The two of you would attack the Red Keep on sight.” His tone was wry, belying his words.

Steve tapped a finger on the table. “Would it be better if Lyanna was to be removed from King’s Landing before you arrived?”

“She will be in the Red Keep,” Hoster said, looking at him dubiously.

“I’ve infiltrated harder targets,” Steve said. The Red Keep wouldn’t even have video cameras, let alone pressure sensors or mines or a hundred other things Nat and Clint had taught him to be wary of.

“...that may be so, but it is not just my daughter we go to retrieve,” Rickard said. “We will not allow Aerys to hold family hostage against us.”

“Right,” Steve said, remembering the other guests. “That might make things a bit trickier.”

“You still think you could do it,” Jon said, considering him.

“I would have to kill a lot of people just doing their jobs,” Steve said. “What will you do if Aerys refuses to give them back?”

“Storm the keep, kill a lot of people just doing their jobs, rescue the hostages, flee,” Rickard said. “Then either commandeer a ship and land on the coast somewhere remote, or try to outride the ravens.”

Jon sighed. “We stop paying taxes, and pause relations with the Crown,” he said. “Make contact with the other Wardens and Lord Paramounts and ask them how they will respond when Aerys asks for their heir or child next.”

“Aerys would just let you go?” Steve asked.

“The Targaryens have no more dragons,” Hoster said. “Wiping out a House like the Darklyns is one thing, but angering the high lords is another. A Great Council will determine his fate.”

Steve thought on what he had witnessed of the King’s behaviour, and doubted. Maybe he just didn’t understand the whole chivalry thing. “You would know better than I would,” he said.

“What do you intend to investigate before we reach the city?” Jon asked. “Knowing what information we can expect will aid us in our own planning.”

“Readiness of the Keep, state of the Gold Cloaks, the most corrupt Gate, how the people are responding to Aerys taking Lyanna,” Steve said. “If I can find out anything about how the hostages are being kept and their security, I’ll do that.”

“Rescuing some would be better than none,” Rickard said, a grim set to his jaw.

“I’ll approach you when you arrive; I should get there several days ahead of you,” Steve said. “I’ll be using the name Bucky Barnes. My squire and I will be hedge knights, looking for work.”

“I do not know how long we will spend in the city,” Jon said. “The Prince promises to mediate, but Aerys is not easily persuaded.”

“So it could go wrong quickly,” Steve said.

“The Gold Cloaks are useless, but he’ll need their numbers if he thinks to make a move against us,” Hoster said. “Watch them and you’ll know.”

“Your squire,” Rickard said, considering, “you’ve taken that sellsword Keladry on? That my children told me about from the joust?”

“No, Robin, from the archery,” Steve said. “Keladry is training some men I took on to help against the mountain clans.”

Rickard grunted, turning something over in his mind.

“If there’s nothing else we need to arrange, I should go,” Steve said.

The three lords considered for a moment, sharing glances, but ultimately shook their heads.

“Father guide your steps, Lord America,” Jon said.

“Regardless of how this goes,” Rickard said, “The Starks will remember this.”

Hoster said nothing, but met his eyes and nodded solemnly.

“I’ll see you in King’s Landing then,” Steve said. He finished his wine, and rose from his chair to approach the tent wall. He listened for a moment, then lifted the tent wall and rolled out, leaving the three lords alone in the tent and vanishing into the night.

Despite being asked later, no sentry could report seeing anything unusual to their lords.

X x X

King’s Landing stank of shit and humanity just like it had the last time Steve had visited. This time he wasn’t part of a party of Kingsguard returning as heroes, so he and Robin were forced to wait in line behind merchants, tradesmen, and travellers. The morning sun beat overhead, and there was not a hint of shade to be had. The Gold Cloaks at the gate did not seem to be in any hurry, sauntering off when documents needed to be checked, talking with one another and showing a lack of urgency. Steve was beginning to regret letting his beard grow back out.

“Which gate is this?” Steve asked his squire.

“This is the Gate of the Gods,” Robin said. “You can tell by the faces.”

Steve glanced at the faces that were carved into the wall above the raised portcullis. Their gazes seemed to follow them, but that might have just been due to how slowly the line was moving.

Eventually, they made it to the front, and they were met with a piglike man with heavy jowls, sweating even in the shade of the gate. “Name?” he demanded of Steve.

“Bucky Barnes,” Steve said.

Slowly, the guard copied down his answer into the book that was sitting on the lectern by his side. Steve noticed five spelling errors.

“Trade?” the guard asked.

“Hedge knight,” Steve said. “I’m looking for work with my squire.”

“Sell…sword…” the guard said as he spelt it out, glancing at Steve with a cruel grin, waiting for his reaction. He got none, and his face fell. “It’s a groat for the pair of yez.”

Steve handed the copper coin over, and the guard bit into it, as if it might be a fake. He was disappointed again, and he waved Steve on. “In you go.”

Through the gates they went, Fury and Scruffy as eager as they were to get some shade. Scruffy in particular was suffering in the heat, and Steve made a note to see if whatever stable they kept him at could shave him.

“So, Robin,” Steve said, as they passed into the city proper. “Where are we staying?”

Robin frowned as he thought. “Eel Alley,” he said at length. “It’s safe enough, being near the Red Keep and all, and has plenty of inns and taverns.”

“That’s the best option?” Steve asked.

“I mean, there’s the Street of Silk, but…”

“But?” Steve prompted.

“That’s where the brothels are,” Robin said, blushing.

“While I’d like to see you explain to Lyanna that we stayed in the Street of Silk, Eel Alley sounds promising,” Steve said.

Robin ducked his head, and led the way towards their destination, down the main street that cut through the middle of King’s Landing. Around them the city teemed with the masses, all going about their trades and tasks. Steve saw five pickpockets at work in the first ten minutes, and watched a pair of Gold Cloaks chase a man across the street and down an alley, faces purpling as he shouted invectives back at them. They passed what was clearly a barracks, and Steve marked it in his mind’s eye, taking in the rough stone walls and the sounds of training from within.

It took them the better part of half an hour to reach their destination, but finding an affordable inn was easy enough, and they obtained a room with two beds in it and stables for their horses. It was not quite lunch time when they had themselves settled.

It had only been a quick pass through to reach their accommodation, but from what Steve had heard, the city seemed undisturbed. No one was whispering at corners about the abduction of Lyanna Stark, no one was wary, none complained about increased prices. Perhaps word had yet to filter down, or it had been kept quiet. Further investigation would shed more light.

He would start with the Red Keep, and discover its secrets - the ones on show to those who knew how to look, anyway. Infiltrating one of the most secure castles on the continent could wait until after the first day.

“Robin,” Steve said, drawing the attention of the teen stowing his possessions away beneath his bed. “Your family is in the city.”

Robin smiled as he looked up, but it faded as he took in Steve’s expression. “You think it might be dangerous to go see them.”

“I think it might be dangerous,” Steve said.

Robin sat on his bed, resting his arms on his knees. “I was looking forward to seeing them.”

“It’s hard,” Steve said. “I know.” He sat on his own bed, opposite Robin.

“When do you think it would be safe?”

“Best case scenario? A few days after the lords arrive,” Steve said. “Worst? Depends on how long the war lasts.”

Robin stared at his feet.

“You’ve been practising your literacy, right?” Steve asked.

“Yeah.”

“You could write them a letter,” Steve said. “We could pass it on through Mott, avoid a direct connection.”

“I, yeah,” Robin said. “I’ll do that.” He looked a little less down.

“I’ll get you my writing materials,” Steve said. “You can take care of that this afternoon, and we’ll send it off this evening.”

“What are you going to do?” Robin asked.

“I’m going to take a walk past the Red Keep,” Steve said, “see what their guard rotations look like, if they’re laying in supplies, things like that.”

“You’re not worried you’ll be recognised?” Robin asked.

Steve ran a hand down his beard. “I have a cunning disguise, and I’ll leave my shield in my bags. No one ever recognises me without it.”

Robin looked him over, large and imposing even when sat on a small bed and dressed in clothes stained by travel. “If you say so, Ser.”

“I do say so,” Steve said. “Do you need any help writing your letter?” A thought occurred to him. “Can your family read?”

“Pa can, and Ma does alright,” Robin said. “She’s the one who taught me most of what I knew before Naerys started teaching me.”

“Good. Make sure you tell them all about Lyanna,” Steve said. He got up and began to dig through his bags for his writing tools.

Robin pulled a face.

“I’ll write a postscript if I have to,” Steve warned.

“Fiiiine,” Robin groaned. Most of his earlier gloom had faded.

“Good lad,” Steve said. He found what he sought, and helped Robin set up to write his letter. No matter how their time in King’s Landing went, he would make sure the kid saw them again, even if he had to spirit them out of the city to do it.

X

Surveilling a target was different here. There was no picking a suitable cafe and lingering over a coffee and croissants, no hidden monitoring devices feeding him audio of his target, no snark from his stakeout partner across the table, or from his handler through his earpiece. Instead of coffee and croissants there was the ever present stench of shit as he counted spears and faces on the distant walls of the Red Keep as he made his way back and forth along the base of the hill that it sat upon. Even to his eyes it was almost too far to make out details, as he blended in with the minor nobility and servants going about their day. Almost, but not quite.

Over the course of the afternoon, Steve learned much about the operation of the Red Keep - what could be learned from external surveillance, in any case. The city guards, the Gold Cloaks, patrolled the walls. Their shifts changed every four hours, not giving them the time to grow bored or inattentive. Given the lack of Gold Cloaks entering and exiting the Keep and the number of patrols on the walls, there had to be another barracks within.

The walls themselves could be climbed, but only if you didn’t mind doing so in clear view of the city. He imagined the ocean side walls would be much the same and lack the audience of the city, if more difficult to get to. Climbing wouldn’t have been his first choice, save for the diligence with which the Keep was defended by other means. Even the standard deliveries of food and other supplies were closely inspected, wagons at random unpacked and inspected thoroughly. Whoever was in charge did not take their duties lightly.

The sun was starting to set when Steve decided he had gotten all he could from his task. Only twice had a pickpocket attempted to make a mark of him, and he had sent both on their ways, the grown man empty handed and with a flicked ear, the child with half his lunch and ruffled hair. It was time to head back to the inn, and check on Robin.

When Steve made it back to their room, he found his squire rubbing down his armour, doing his best to give the well used plate a mirror shine. “Have any luck?” he asked the kid.

“I sent the letter to Master Mott,” Robin said, “with a note asking him to pass it on to my Pa.’

“Smart move,” Steve said, taking a seat on his bed and resting his feet.

“How was your, er, ‘sightseeing’?” Robin asked.

“Productive,” Steve said. “Taking the Keep by force would be bloody.”

“...we’re just here to get the lay of the land, right?” Robin asked, looking up from the armour.

“I promised Naerys I wouldn’t fight the city on my own, so yes,” Steve said.

Robin relaxed, returning to his task. “Well, it’s no Casterly Rock, but it’s still the Red Keep,” he said.

“Casterly Rock?”

“Uh, it’s the Lannister stronghold,” Robin said. “Something my Pa said once. I think it’s built into a mountain.”

“Well, every stronghold has a weakness,” Steve said, “and I think the Keep’s is the oceanside.”

“The oceanside? The one with a steep cliff and sheer walls above it?”

“That’s it. I’m pretty sure the godswood in the Keep backs onto it,” Steve said, remembering his meeting with Rhaegar in it. “A good climber could get in unseen at night.”

“I’ve climbed trees before,” Robin said, trying to sound positive.

Steve laughed. “Don’t worry, whatever we decide on, your job will be something less dangerous, like distracting the Keep garrison.”

“Right, less dangerous.”

Steve glanced out the window of their room, ignoring the cheek of his squire. The sun was a rich red as it cast its last rays of the day.

“I’m going to do it,” Steve decided.

“How am I going to distract the garrison?!?” Robin asked, head shooting up.

“I’m just going to take a look around, see if I can find where the hostages are being kept,” Steve said. “No distractions needed, this time at least. Just an enthusiastic stroll.”

“Just take a stroll around the Red Keep,” Robin said. He looked at his hands. “I’m the third son of a bowyer.”

“You came in third in the archery at Harrenhal against the best in the kingdoms, and you’re also Lord America’s squire,” Steve said. “Chin up.”

“Right,” Robin said. “Right. What would you have me do while you’re on your stroll?”

“Head down to a tavern and get yourself something to eat,” Steve said. “See if you can pick up any rumours.”

“Anything in particular?” Robin asked.

Steve drummed his fingers on his knee. “The city feels too calm considering four high lords have called their banners. See if there’s any whispers of that, but don’t raise the topic yourself. If someone is trying to suppress that information, they’ll be listening for it.”

“Lyanna would be better at this, but I’ll do my best,” Robin said.

“Here,” Steve said, handing him a pouch of coppers. “People are always happier to talk to someone buying them drinks.” He paused, considering. “Buying them drinks. If you have to buy one to blend in, it better last you the whole night.”

A disgruntled look crossed Robin’s face. “But I’m almo-”

“You’re too young, and you don’t want a hangover tomorrow,” Steve said. “Also, I’ll be disappointed if I come back and it turns out you’ve been drinking.”

Robin sulked, but the threat of Steve’s disappointment was a potent one.

“When you’re twenty one I’ll take you out on the town,” Steve promised.

“Twenty one?” Robin said, aghast. “That’s almost seven years away!”

“You’ve got a lot of growing to do,” Steve said, unmoved by Robin’s distress. “You think I got this big and strong by drinking too young?” he said, like a liar.

Robin grumbled, but gave his agreement. “Fine,” he said. “But I can still have wine for celebrations, right?”

“I suppose that’s fair,” Steve said, and his squire brightened. “But only for celebrations, and only one cup.”

Their deal struck, Robin completed polishing the armour as Steve prepared for his nighttime climb. He had left his climbing shoes and his pitons in his other pants, but he would make do.

X

The sun had well and truly set by the time Steve made it up the cliff that looked over Blackwater Bay, and to the base of the Keep walls. He kept himself in place with his legs as he stretched out his shoulders and shook out his hands, the ocean breeze chilling him. He was shrouded in darkness and shadow, the half moon overhead providing enough light to see but hopefully not enough to be seen. Still, he had made sure to be still whenever a pair of guards passed by on the city wall above him.

The Keep walls were made of heavy red stone, and that meant plenty of good holds for someone like him to make use of as they climbed it. He climbed steadily, thankful that it was a clear night with no rain or fog, for slippery stone would have pushed the climb from the realm of ‘not easy’ to ‘maybe this wasn’t a good idea’. Above, he could hear the occasional passing of a single guard on their rounds.

As he neared the top of the wall, he was forced to stop and cling in place as a strong wind buffeted him. For a moment, he thought he might fall. A normal man would have, but he was no normal man. At last, he reached the top, and clung to the parapet by his fingertips. By his count, a guard was due to pass by shortly.

Tempting as it was to obtain a disguise and pull his favourite trick of walking around the enemy compound like he owned the place, the discipline he had observed during his earlier spying persuaded him otherwise. He would do his best to leave no trace of his presence. The footsteps of the guard approached and then faded away, giving him a few minutes before the next was due to pass. He hoisted himself up and over the crenellations, landing on the walkway with catlike tread. The way was clear, the trees of the godswood below him, but there was no convenient staircase leading down.

Not that he needed stairs. The interior side of the wall proved just as easy to climb down as the exterior was to climb up, and he was soon below the canopy of the godswood, well hidden by the time the next guard came round.

When he reached the tree trunks strong enough to hold his weight, Steve pushed off from the wall to leap to one, before climbing quickly down to land on the grass below. The night was quiet, only the chirp of crickets to disturb it. Insulated from the city in the depths of the Red Keep as he was, he could even only barely catch the whiff of raw sewage, drowned out as it was by the trees and the flowers of the godswood. The canopy above blocked what moonlight there was, and he was left in darkness as he stepped carefully through the godswood, mindful of stray branches and roots.

He had entered the godswood only briefly on his last visit to the Keep, and he saw no familiar markings as he made his way towards where he thought the entrance was, following a path that ladies likely strolled along in the daytime.

Then, ahead, the flicker of torchlight. He was not alone. He moved quickly from the path, hiding behind the trunk of an elm tree. He wondered for a moment how on earth a tree he recognised as an elm was present in this new world, before putting it from his mind in favour of more immediate matters. He could hear two figures approaching.

There was no conversation to be heard, just the two walking in silence, one of them holding a lantern. Steve inched around the tree as they passed, and peeked out at their backs. The woman with silver hair he didn’t recognise, but the blond kid he was familiar with. Jaime wore his white cloak well.

There would be time to catch up later. He waited for the pair to go deeper into the woods, and continued on his way. It did not take him long to find the door that led back into the Keep proper, and then he was inside, closing it quietly behind him.

At night, there was none of the bustle that he remembered from his short stay some months ago. The servants were asleep, and the guards were focused on the entrances, not the interior - he hoped, at least. He had a vague idea of where he was, relative to the other parts of the castle, but little clue as to what he might find on his way to each location, and the longer he spent here, the greater his chances of being caught.

He was here to try and find information on the ‘guests’ of the King, so he would go to the guest accommodations. He even knew the way.

The halls were quiet as he made his way towards his goal, hoping that his plain clothes wouldn’t immediately give him away if he came across anyone. He remembered the servants wore a uniform of sorts, but with luck the lateness of the hour would provide him an excuse for lacking one.

Knowing the path he had to take saw him reach it quickly, with but a single wrinkle. That wrinkle was a guard with a spear, watching the door that led to the suites and apartments, wearing a black and red tabard. Watching the door, and watching Steve as he rounded the corner and approached.

Steve remembered a movie Clint’s kids had forced them to sit through while they hid out during the whole Ultron business. Smile and wave boys, smile and wave. He maintained his pace, looking down at his shoes, doing his best to mimic the deferential lack of presence that he had observed in many servants. The guard watched him, but said nothing as he neared, and nothing as he passed through the door and closed it behind himself. He let out a quiet breath, and continued on.

The guest rooms of the Red Keep were designed to host as many noble guests as possible in as much comfort as possible, though some were more comfortable than others. Given the status of those he sought, Steve made his way towards the suites rather than the single rooms, away from where he and Naerys had been roomed.

The memory of a kiss on his cheek loomed large in his mind, but just as he had every other time on his journey south, he ignored it to focus on the task at hand, and not on what it might mean that his heart skipped a beat every time.

…maybe Nat had a point about his avoidance of personal relationships.

He heard voices in one of the rooms as he passed, three or so people having a discussion, their words muffled by the door. He did not recognise the voices, but it reminded him that it was not so late that all were asleep. He prowled onwards, looking for some manner of sign that would lead him to his goals. Perhaps he had been foolish in assuming he could just stroll into the Keep and find what he sought with only the barest of preparation or knowledge of his target - he slowed. Stopped. Took a few steps back, and turned to double check the banners on the wall he had just passed. On one side of the hall there was a falcon banner by a door, and on the other, a stag. For some reason, he felt like Nat and Clint would be scowling at him.

Having never met Baratheon he turned to the door with the falcon banner, hoping that he wasn’t misreading things, and knocked three times. All was quiet for a moment, but then he heard movement, and heard the door unlatch from within. It opened a crack, and then further as the young man inside saw who it was.

Elbert smiled, neatening the hastily thrown on shirt he wore. “Lor-”

“Not here,” Steve said, holding a finger to his lips and glancing down the hall. “Inside.”

The Vale lord stepped back as Steve invited himself in, smile becoming a tad fixed. “Had I known you planned to visit, I would have arranged to meet you.” He took in his guest, looking over his garb. “Are you…dressing down for a venture into the city?”

“Elbert,” Steve said. “Sorry to barge in on you like this. Are you ok?” He looked around the sitting room he found himself in. It spoke of the wealth you would expect from the Red Keep, well appointed with a scattering of Arryn colours.

“I am,” Elbert said. Confusion crossed his face. “This is a strange visit, I have to say, especially at this hour. How did you get into the Keep?”

“I climbed the walls and snuck through the godswood,” Steve said.

“You jape, surely,” Elbert said after a moment. Despite his words, he was not smiling.

“I was very much not invited,” Steve said. “I’m in the city because the King abducted Lyanna Stark and killed her guards. Her father, your uncle, and Hoster Tully are on their way here to share their opinions on it.”

The Arryn heir was not slow of wit. “We’re hostages.”

“You didn’t know?” Steve asked. “That Lyanna was taken.”

“Not a whisper,” Elbert said. “When did this happen?”

“A month and a half ago?” Steve guessed.

“The banners have been raised, haven’t they.”

“There was an army gathering outside the Gates of the Moon when I left it three weeks ago,” Steve said.

“If we didn’t know we’re hostages, we wouldn’t try to escape,” Elbert said. He began to pace, wearing a hole in the carpet.

“Lyanna isn’t here, then,” Steve said.

“No,” Elbert said. “This is not good.”

“Nope,” Steve said.

“Come, away from the door,” Elbert said, gesturing for Steve to follow him deeper into his suite. He led the way into his bedroom, and closed the door. The embers of a small fire glowed in the hearth, and it seemed he had been reading under the lantern light at a desk across from a four poster bed. “If my uncle and the others come to King’s Landing in a fury, the King will not react well.”

“Your uncle has kept his head,” Steve said. “Rickard, not so much.”

“What of Brandon, and Robert?” Elbert asked.

“Robert was convinced to return to Storm’s End, and Brandon asked me to come in his place. His father commanded him to stay in the Vale.”

“That’s something,” Elbert said. He began to chew on his thumbnail, only to snatch it from his mouth, irritated with himself. “Lord Amercia - Steve - the King is not a good man.”

“He had a young woman abducted and her guards killed,” Steve said.

“More than that,” Elbert said. “He delights in having petty criminals burnt alive, and there are dark rumours about the way he treats his Queen.”

A particular look crossed Steve’s face, and he set his jaw. “Then we need to get you out of here.”

“I cannot,” Elbert said, shaking his head. “Not without Lady Lysa and Lord Stannis.”

“Do you know where Lysa is?” Steve asked.

“Elsewhere,” Elbert said. “She has a Septa and a guard with her at most times.”

“Did something happen?” Steve asked.

“She is a lady,” Elbert said, as if that was explanation enough, “and I have not had cause to venture into that section of the guest wing.”

“I cannot get the three of you out the same way I came in,” Steve admitted. “One, maybe, but that would just make it even harder to get the other two later.”

“How many days until my uncle arrives?” Elbert asked.

“Three, four days?”

“Have they many men?”

“About one hundred mounted men apiece,” Steve said.

Elbert began to pace again, hand held to his mouth.

Steve watched and waited as Elbert thought. At length, he stopped.

“Fuck.”

Steve snorted. “Language,” he said, though it was with nostalgia, not sincerity.

He snorted a laugh out, though it lacked any humour. “Aerys will not react well to three of his high lords making demands of him.”

“You don’t think he’ll hand over his hostages to keep the peace?”

“Not if it would mean looking weak,” Elbert said. He lowered his voice. “The way he talks and acts at times, you would think the Targaryens never lost their dragons.”

“Then we need to get you out,” Steve said, “preferably before your uncle arrives.”

“I won’t leave without the others,” Elbert warned. “What did you have in mind?”

“I can’t carry the three of you down,” Steve said, “but I could lower you…” he finished, trailing off.

“But…?” Elbert said, not having caught the last of it.

“Can you reach Stannish and Lysa tomorrow?” Steve asked.

“I can,” Elbert said, but then he hesitated. “It is no small thing to flee the King’s hospitality. If things are not as you have said…”

“I saw the army gathering in the Vale, and spoke with Jon, Rickard, and Hoster myself,” Steve said. “Your uncle didn’t give me a message for you, but I don’t think he expected me to be able to speak to you.”

Elbert let out a breath. “I’m trusting you,” he said at length, “but only because I witnessed your character at Riverrun.”

“If we have to, we’ll say I kidnapped you,” Steve said. “Two nights from now, I will return. Can you and the others be ready to go then?”

“Two nights from now,” Elbert confirmed. “That should be long enough to bring Stannis around.”

“Will he be a problem?” Steve asked. He hardly knew Robert, and didn’t know a thing about his brother.

“He is stubborn,” Elbert said, with the tone of someone framing something politely, “but we have struck up a friendship. I will persuade him.”

“And Lysa?”

“She won’t be a problem.” He coloured slightly.

Steve raised an eyebrow.

“Not like that,” Elbert said. “Where shall we meet you?”

Out in the hall, a door opened loudly against the stone walls, and whoever it was spoke loudly enough to be heard in Elbert’s room. The two men shared a look, but the voices continued away, fading.

“The godswood,” Steve said quietly. “There’s little point in me coming to get you in your rooms, and honestly I’m shocked I made it here in the first place.”

“We can explain away an evening trip to the godswood,” Elbert said. “Is there anything else?”

“No - actually, yes,” Steve said. “I rescued your cousin.”

“My cousin,” Elbert said, confused.

“Kelda Waynwood,” Steve said. “I was at the Gates in the first place because we were returning her home.”

Elbert stared at him. “She was taken fifteen years ago. I was a boy. How did you do it?”

“I’ll tell you after we get you out of here,” Steve said. “Something for you to look forward to.”

“You great shit,” Elbert said. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Steve smirked at him. “You do that. Want to check the way is clear for me?”

Their plotting at an end, Elbert led the way back to the entrance door, peeking out to ensure no one was in the hall. “It’s clear,” he said.

“Two nights from now, around this time,” Steve said as he left.

“I’ll remember,” Elbert said. “Seven guide you.”

Steve slipped into the hall, and hoped that his luck held out. His night wasn’t over yet.

As he made his way out of the Keep, a thought occurred to him. There was little chance the King and all his agents hadn’t noticed the mustering of forces of some of his most powerful vassals, which meant they were keeping it hidden. If they were keeping the deed hidden, why not hide the girl as well? He stopped in place. If it turned out that Lyanna had been languishing in the dungeons when he had been so close…he turned, away from the godswood and for the lower reaches of the castle.

Steve passed two guards and a servant on his way, but a ducked head and a faint smile saw him past them, though he felt the stares of the guards drilling into his back. The path to the dungeons was as he remembered it, a few weakly burning torches providing illumination. The dungeon itself was no better, looking and smelling much as it had when Steve had visited Ulmer there. The archer was long gone now, and he wondered if Fletcher and Wenda had made contact with him yet, up at the Wall.

The first level of cells was empty, not a soul to be seen, and he headed deeper to the next, down narrow twisting stairs. It was immediately clear that these were not for the common rabble, but for prisoners whose status demanded a degree of dignity, even if not comfort. Yet these too were empty, not one prisoner to be seen.

There were floors deeper still, and Steve could smell burnt meat and rotting flesh, the scents of suffering, and he prayed that Lyanna was not down there, but there was also the tower above the dungeons proper, where noble prisoners might be kept.

In the end, Steve did not have the chance to find out, as the sound of soft footsteps told him that he was not alone. He tried the gate of a nearby cell, but it was locked, and then it was too late. A guard came down the stairs, and then another, and then two more. It was the pair he had passed on his way to the dungeons.

“Fellas,” Steve said. “I was looking for the prisoners headed for the Wall. Don’t suppose you’ve seen them?”

The guards shared glances behind their helms, and drew their swords.

“Guess not,” Steve said. “I’ll be gentle.”

Four men in armour with swords against one unarmed, unarmoured man, and it was no contest. Steve seized the first by his red and black tabard, slapping aside the blade that angled for his shoulder and dragging him with him as he skipped back, off his feet. The other three sought to press him, but their fellow was raised near to the ceiling and hurled right at them, knocking them down like tenpins. Before they could recover he was on them, dealing out swift blows that left their skulls rattled and their minds addled.

Steve stilled as the clamour of the short fight faded, listening for any signs that it had been heard. He heard no panicked footsteps, no shouts of alarm. Still, it seemed he had overstayed his welcome. He looked at the unconscious and feebly twitching guards. They had only caught on to him on his way to the dungeons, so there shouldn’t be anything connecting him to the ‘guests’...except that guard who had seen him enter the guest wing. He wasn’t going to kill them, so it was a risk he would have to take. He turned them on their sides just in case, and made his escape.

He didn’t fancy a more permanent stay in the dungeon.

X x X

Steve woke late the next morning, alone in the room, having crept back into the inn during the early hours of the morning. A still warm plate of eggs and bacon with a hunk of bread on the side sat on the floor beside his bed, and he helped himself quickly, making a note to double Robin’s wages. As he was mopping up the last of the yolk the kid returned, and Steve raised his eyebrows at him. His long mop of almost black hair had been trimmed back harshly, leaving him with near shaved sides and a much reduced mop on top.

“Duck out for a haircut?” Steve asked.

“It was getting in the way,” Robin mumbled. He sat on his bed. “How did your stroll go last night?” he asked, impatient.

“Well,” Steve said, drawing it out. “I found out where the hostages are being kept.”

“That’s good,” Robin said.

“I also had to knock out four guards when they cornered me in the dungeon,” Steve said.

“That’s not good,” Robin said.

“So they know there was an intruder, but not what they were doing, and I don’t actually need to get into the Keep itself again, just the godswood,” Steve finished.

“That’s, good?” Robin asked.

“We’ll see,” Steve said. “How did your night go?”

“I found out more about the whores on the Street of Silk than I wanted to,” Robin said, a complicated expression on his face, “but I found out some useful things too. A trade galley out of Volantis had some news from the city, a crew from Lys about piracy in the Stepstones, and a hedge knight from White Harbour was talking about the wildlings.”

“Nothing more local?” Steve asked.

“Not unless you want to hear about the whores,” Robin said. “

“No, I don’t think we need to go over that,” Steve said. “Start with the wildlings.”

“The hedge knight was part of the guard for a merchant from White Harbour,” Robin said. “Was in his cups, talking about how the North was expecting a push from the wildlings and was buying up supplies in preparation.”

Steve rubbed his chin. “That’s not good news,” he said. “Unless he was lying.”

“You think it could be a cover for calling their banners?” Robin asked, after thinking for a moment.

“Winter is ending, so the prices are going down, but the first harvests won’t be ready for a while yet,” Steve said. “Buying from King’s Landing also deprives the enemy of those same resources, while sewing disinformation.”

“Like you told me on the road,” Robin said.

“That’s right,” Steve said. “But even in normal warfare spying, propaganda and disinformation is important.”

“But what about the other kingdoms raising their own banners?” Robin asked.

“Muddying the waters still helps, and disinformation isn’t the only benefit,” Steve said. “That’s if it is a lie. What about Volantis?”

“Uh, so their Westerosi wasn’t that good, but I think their priests either burnt down the palace, their leaders, their leaders in their palaces, or themselves, the leaders, and the palace,” Robin said. “They were real excited.”

Steve remembered the rumours about Volantis he had heard back in Braavos. It didn’t sound like the political climate had improved much since then. “Sounds like they’re in a bit of trouble, but the only tears I’ll shed for a Slaver City are for the slaves caught in the middle.”

“It could be an opportunity, right?” Robin said. “You said that the best time for a smaller group to attack a larger one was when the larger was had internal trouble.”

“So long as…?” Steve said.

“So long as the smaller group attacks in a way that doesn’t unite them,” Robin added.

“That’s right,” Steve said. “Whether you’re on the smaller side or the larger, it’s something to watch out for.”

Robin nodded, taking it on board. He had been eager to learn all Steve had to teach, but was particularly interested in what he had to say about the different types of warfare, perhaps due to the very real chance they were about to find themselves in the middle of one.

“What did the crew from Lys have to say?”

“Pirates in the Stepstones were more organised than usual,” Robin said. “They outran one easily enough, but it turned out to be herding them into a trap, and they only just got away.”

“Hopefully not our concern,” Steve said. “Still, good work Robin. You never know when an odd rumour might end up being useful.”

Robin grinned. “Thank you, Ser,” he said. He glanced at the window. “It’s almost midmorning. What are we doing today?”

“We need rope,” Steve said. “A lot of rope. A few grappling hooks, too, or something that can be hammered securely into rock.”

“I know a place you can get that,” Robin said.

“Would they recognise you?” Steve asked.

“My Pa maybe, but not me,” he answered. “Is that all we need?”

“A small boat,” Steve said, thinking, “and someone willing to do something dangerous for a bit of gold.”

“Plenty of fishermen who work out of the docks by the Mud Gate,” Robin said. “Plenty that won’t ask any questions for the right amount of coin.”

“Sounds promising,” Steve said. “Once we get the equipment we need, we’ll go buy some fresh fish.”

There was a knock on the door.

Steve glanced at Robin, but the kid shook his head. He got to his feet, putting his plate aside, and stepped quietly to the door, opening it in such a way that he wasn’t obstructed by it.

One of the serving girls stood on the other side. “Message for you, Ser,” the young girl said, handing over a small sealed note.

“Thank you,” Steve said, retrieving a copper penny to hand over in thanks. The girl made a rough curtsey, hurrying off as he closed the door.

“What’s that?” Robin asked.

“Trouble,” Steve said. “No one should have reason and means to contact us here.” The wax seal had no sigil on it, and he cracked it open to read.

It was a simple note, devoid of identifying marks. Plain words written in quill spelt out a simple message.

L.A. I can help you get the hostages out of the keep tonight. Meet at Chataya’s, at the hour of the pig.

“Well,” Steve said. “That’s not good.”

“How did they know we were here?” Robin asked, worry on his face. “I was careful with my letter, I know I was careful.”

“Shi-oot,” Steve said. He closed his eyes for a moment as he rubbed his brow. “This is my fault. I’m using the name of a friend I told a story about when I visited the Red Keep.”

“Plenty of people share names though,” Robin argued.

“It probably wasn’t the only clue, just the nail in the coffin,” Steve said. He sighed. Nat would have looked at him like he was an idiot.

“What will we do?”

“We’ll go to this ‘Chataya’s’ place,” Steve decided. It could be bait to prove their guilt, or a lure to an ambush, but it could just as easily be a hundred other things. “Whoever this is knows where we are, and why we’re here. We weren’t woken up by a squad of Gold Cloaks, so they want something.”

“It could be someone on the side of the hostages,” Robin said.

“It could be,” Steve said, “but we won’t know more until this meeting.”

“The hour of the pig isn’t that far away,” Robin said. “Are we still going to get the equipment?”

“We will,” Steve said, “just in case. But we’ll have to lose whoever is watching us first.”

Robin glanced towards the closed door. “Should we move to another inn?”

“No,” Steve said. “If they’ve got the reach, they’d find us easily enough, and Fury is distinctive - damn.”

“You don’t think Fury gave us away?” Robin said, sceptical. “There’s a lot of white horses around.”

“No, but again, it’s another clue,” Steve said. He flexed his hand, irritated with himself. There might not be traffic cameras and CCTV and satellites, but that was no excuse. “Do you know where Chataya’s is?”

“Uh, yeah,” Robin said, drawing the word out.

“...so?”

“It’s a brothel.”

Steve turned his gaze on his squire. “And you know this because…?

“I heard some sailors talking about it!” Robin said, flushing.

“Uh huh,” Steve said. “Well, I promise I won’t tell Lyanna, so long as you behave.”

“I behave,” Robin argued.

“Sure,” Steve said, standing up to begin digging around in his bags. “I’ve seen well behaved young men out on the town before, real money in their pockets for the first time…” He shook his head. “I’ll be keeping my eye on you.”

“I do!” Robin said, indignant even as he began to prepare for the day’s ventures, but he was holding back a smile.

Steve was grateful the kid had been too wrapped up in Lyanna to notice Naerys’ farewell to him, and he was going to milk it for all it was worth. “Come on,” he said. “We’ve got work to do.”

X

When they left their inn, Steve took a moment to look over the street, disguising the action with a stretch. It wasn’t the busiest street he had seen in the city, but it wasn’t empty either; many residents and visitors going about their business. He considered himself a fair hand at the whole spy thing after years of exposure to Clint and Nat, not to mention the whole wanted criminal business, but that was in 21st century Earth. Here and now, the rhythms were all off, and the tradesman who glanced at him could have been keeping an eye on him, but they could also just be looking at the man who stood a head above most of the rest of the street.

From the inn, they meandered their way south, to the Street of Steel, rather than head straight towards Chataya’s. Their late start ensured that the city was well and truly buzzing with the day’s business, but still Steve couldn’t pin down anyone who might be tailing them. The lack of huge reflective storefronts was really hampering his ability to check with any amount of subtlety.

It was when they reached a narrow street that he decided to make their move. It looked to have once been a broad avenue, but the city’s hunger for room to grow had seen a row of buildings spring up down the middle, splitting it into two. One of them was a tavern, and Steve led the way as they ducked inside.

“Excuse me, miss,” Steve said, drawing the attention of a serving girl. The place wasn’t busy, but it wasn’t empty either. He gave a two fingered wave, a silver stag held to catch her attention without showing it to the entire room. “Can you show us to the exit at the back?”

The girl tracked the coin like a bloodhound, and nodded without comment. She settled a plate and tankard on a table, and they followed her through a door behind the bar and then through a small kitchen, and they emerged into a small alley that separated the two rows of buildings. It was full of trash and refuse, but the city already stank.

“Thanks,” Steve said, handing the coin over.

Flashing him a smile, she made the coin disappear and headed back inside.

“Did you see someone following us?” Robin asked.

“No, but better safe than sorry,” Steve said.

Down the alley they went, until they found an exit that led to the other side. They stepped over a pile of trash and what Steve was going to pretend was dog shit, and crossed the street to another, heading off their previous path. Down cramped streets and side alleys they went, avoiding the main paths, until finally they came to the small shop on the Street of Steel, well away from the largest and most reputable forges that made a living selling arms and armour to lords.

“This is the place?” Steve asked.

Robin nodded. “They do small sundries that larger forges don’t have time to make. Grappling hooks or spikes won’t be hard for them.”

“Well, in you go then,” Steve said.

“What?”

Steve nodded towards the shop. “You know what we need, and how much. I’ll keep an eye on the street, and you get us a decent deal.” He handed over his coin pouch. It wasn’t light.

“Now I know how Naerys feels,” Robin muttered to himself as he took the pouch. He headed inside, shoulders set like a man going to war.

An alcove by nearby beckoned, and Steve settled into its shadows, just another bearded hedge knight going about his business. He was confident that any tail had been shaken, at least temporarily, by their detour through the tavern. If they were being followed, and he was pretty sure they had been, the numbers they would have needed to preempt the dodge would have seen them stand out more. Maybe he was being paranoid, but he’d rather be paranoid than forced to fight his way free of the city without the hostages.

Ten thankfully boring minutes later, Robin emerged from the shop with pep in his step.

“The equipment will be delivered to us tomorrow,” Robin said. “He’ll send an apprentice with it all in sacks.” He handed the coin pouch back over.

“Good,” Steve said. His pouch still had a similar heft to it. “Well done.”

Robin grinned. “So, time to visit a brothel?”

“Wipe that grin off your face, or I won’t tell Lyanna, I’ll tell your Ma.”

“I’ll be good.”

X

Chataya’s was on the Street of Silk, clear across the city. Steve thought they might have picked up their tail again as they crossed the central square of the city, the enormous sept at their backs, but he supposed it could have just been a similar face to the young man he thought he had glimpsed in the inn’s common room that morning.

The brothel itself had a ground floor of stone, and a second story of timber, with a turret rising from one corner. At the door an expensive lantern hung, purple stained glass hinting at the delights to be found within, if the faint scent of perfume and occasional feminine laughter wasn’t enough.

Steve led the way, Robin staying firmly at his back, and a bell rang gently as they stepped through the door. An entranceway was before them, a multicoloured mosaic decorating the floor. A concertina screen blocked their view of deeper in, leaving visitors to be tantalised by the imagination of what lay beyond.

A woman stepped out from behind the screen, dressed in vibrant orange in sharp contrast to her chocolate skin. She had an ornate feather in her hair, and a glass of wine in one hand. “Good afternoon ser. It gladdens me to see a new face here,” she said, and for a moment Steve believed her wholeheartedly. “I am Chataya, and this is my establishment.” She looked to be in her early twenties.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Steve said, glancing only briefly at the svelte material of her dress. She wasn’t wearing a bra.

Chataya smiled. “I always enjoy a knight with such manners. Are you here for yourself?” She glanced at Robin, still half hidden behind him. “Or perhaps to further the education of your squire.”

Steve heard Robin swallow, and while another time he would have enjoyed teasing him, they were here on business. “I’m here for a meeting. My name is Bucky Barnes.”

“Of course,” Chataya said, not missing a beat. “I will show you the way. Will your squire be joining you?”

“He will,” Steve said. A voice that sounded like an unholy combination of Bucky and Tony suggested leaving him in the common room beyond the screen, but he wasn’t about to let him be separated.

“Then follow me,” Chataya said, turning back to sashay deeper within.

Steve followed, and he couldn’t help but compare Chataya’s to the last brothel he had ventured into, back in the War. Instead of the dorms of a boarding house, with sheets hanging from the rafters to divide the ‘rooms’, the common room had couches for lounging on, candles that gave off exotic scents, and a young girl playing a pan flute in the corner. Some few men were ensconced with ladies of the evening, some more entwined than others, but given the time of day business was slow. Robin’s steps faltered as he got his first look at the inside of a brothel, and Steve glanced back to see his eyes darting about the room, before he looked determinedly at his feet, two bright spots of colour rising in his cheeks.

One of the working ladies not occupied by a customer saw his reaction, and stretched out on her couch in such a way as to draw the eye. Robin looked up in time to see a large expanse of creamy thigh revealed as the waist high split in the woman’s dress fell away, and he snapped his gaze forward so quickly Steve feared he might have given himself whiplash.

Steve bit his lip to keep his laughter contained, but the blonde woman saw his face and winked at him, crossing her arms under her chest and taking in a breath, but then they were leaving the common room behind as they took the stairs to the upper floor.

Chataya did not speak to them as she led them through her establishment, past private rooms and down a long hallway, and then up more stairs. The interior was a mix of new and old, and it looked like it was in the process of being remodelled bit by bit so as not to disturb the running of the business. They came to a door of dark wood, and the dark-skinned woman knocked on it twice. There was a pause, and then a faint reply as whoever was within knocked twice on something wooden in reply. Steve realised that they were in the turret that rose from the corner of the building.

“After your meeting, I will have a girl bring you wine, my gift,” Chataya said. Her honey coloured eyes were warm.

“Thank you,” Steve said.

The madam glided away, the feather in her hair shimmering in the light of the lanterns that illuminated the way, and then they were alone.

Steve opened the door, and stepped into the room within. It was styled as a bedroom, and took up the full turret. There was a luxurious bed in the middle, and a writing desk against one wall of the round room, just below a narrow window of leaded glass.

At the desk, there was a man, sitting with his back to the window. He was neither fat nor thin, and cleanly cut brown hair fell to his brows. He could have been a merchant, or a courtier, or a shopkeeper, and he observed Steve keenly. Another chair was across from him, a silent invitation to sit.

Steve approached the chair and reversed it, taking a seat and leaning against the backrest. Robin closed the door behind himself, and took up position at Steve’s back.

Still the man observed him, eyes flitting over his appearance, doing the same to Robin. Steve allowed himself to go still in the way only a superhuman could, and levelled his own gaze. If he decided it was necessary, that this man was a danger, he could reach out and snap his neck, and there was nothing he could do to stop him. He wouldn’t enjoy it, but he could do it.

The man swallowed lightly, and blinked first. “Lord America,” he said, voice deliberately steady. “I appreciate you meeting with me.”

“I would appreciate knowing who it is that I’m meeting with,” Steve said.

“I’m no one important, just the factor to a more powerful man, but you can call me Larys,” he said.

“Larys,” Steve said. “You invited me here for a reason.”

“Straight to the point then,” Larys said. “We know you seek to retrieve the King’s guests from the Keep. We can help you do that.”

“Because you’re generous like that,” Steve said.

“Our interests are aligned,” Larys said. “Helping you helps us.”

“Us.”

Larys swallowed again, and smiled thinly. “If my benefactor was able to be open with their identity, they would not have gone to the trouble of arranging this meeting in such a manner.”

Steve’s gaze sharpened. “If we’re going to be working together, I won’t be treated like a mushroom.”

“A mushroom?” Larys asked, thrown for a moment.

“Kept in the dark and fed shit.”

Larys coughed, but recovered quickly. “We are taking some risk, approaching you like this. Should the worst happen, you cannot reveal information you do not have.”

“And we’re not?” Steve asked. “What do you suppose the punishment is for infiltrating the Red Keep?”

“I did not think that would bother you, given you have already done so yourself,” Larys said. A muscle in his jaw ticked, but he maintained his neutral smile.

He hadn’t meant to reveal that bit of information, Steve noted. One of the guards or servants he had crossed paths with must have given a good enough description of him, or one of the hostages had given him up, but that was unlikely. “If I’ve already infiltrated the Keep, why do I need your help?”

“When Barristan the Bold rescued the King from Duskendale, he took no wounds until he had to escape with His Grace,” Larys said. “How well do you think you will fare with four to rescue?”

Steve made a noncommittal grunt. Elbert seemed to have a good head on his shoulders, but Lysa was a young girl and he didn’t know Stannis. But four - Lyanna must be in the castle too.

“Four?” Steve asked.

Larys frowned, a hint of disappointment on his face. “I had assumed you intended to rescue Lyanna Stark as well, but if you are content to leave her in the Maidenvault, that’s your decision.”

The Maidenvault was the keep within the Keep. He hadn’t attempted to gain entry to the royal quarters, thinking it too risky, but if Larys was telling the truth… “What is your plan to get them out?”

“We have leverage over a Gold Cloak on duty this evening,” Larys said smoothly. “He will see only the usual servants departing after their earlier delivery, so long as you are there to escort them. I’ll not be blamed for four high nobles disappearing into the belly of King’s Landing.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Steve asked.

“You can infiltrate the Keep as you did last night, or I can smuggle you in,” Larys said. “Once you walk out with the hostages though, I cannot aid you.”

“This plan of yours is a bit light on details,” Steve said. “I’m just going to pick them up and walk out?”

“With the Lord Paramount and the Wardens so close to the city, the King will no longer seek to suppress news of their coming,” Larys said. “His guests will become hostages in appearance as well as in truth, but they will be permitted to pray in the Sept should they ask. Once there, disguises will be donned, and they will make their way to the outer bailey, where you will await them.”

“You make this seem very easy,” Steve said, his tone disagreeing with his words.

“It will be easy,” Larys said, “but only because of a large amount of exceedingly dangerous preparation.”

Robin shifted uneasily behind him, but said nothing. Steve crossed his arms, considering. This was a gift unasked for, and he knew nothing of the one making the offer, but if it worked, it would be safer than lowering the hostages down the cliff, and he had no way to include Lyanna in his plan, if Larys was being truthful. But then the rescue of Lyanna was the whole reason the lords were coming with over three hundred riders, wasn’t it.

And yet…this Larys had come to him with an offer. If the offer was sincere, then there was only the danger of the operation. If it was malicious, then it would be a simple thing to swarm him with guards in the street, should he decline it. Not that it would work, but they would be put to flight from the city without a single hostage rescued. He made his decision.

“I will take you up on your offer,” Steve said slowly, “and I will deal with you as honestly as you deal with me.”

A hidden tension seemed to leech from Larys’ frame. “Excellent. Come the hour of the bat, you will join a delivery wagon that will get you through the gates of the Keep. By the time you help unload the wagon, the hostages will take the places of the servants, and you will be free to make for a gate and leave the city behind.”

Steve nodded, keeping his own counsel on Larys’ suggestion. “You can’t tell me who your boss is? We’re conspiring together now, after all.”

Larys gave an apologetic smile. “My benefactor has not earned such profits by taking unnecessary risks.”

“Fair enough,” Steve said. ‘Profits’, either he was a merchant or wanted him to think he was one.

“Perhaps we will meet again in happier times,” Larys said, and he glanced towards the door.

“Perhaps,” Steve said. He got to his feet, stepping back from the chair, and left the room without a glance back, Robin following behind him.

When they were down the stairs and halfway along the hall, Robin stepped closer.

“Why did you reverse the chair?” he asked.

“If he tried to stab me, it’s easier to get up from a reversed chair, and it puts the backrest between my stomach and his knife,” Steve said.

There was a pause as Robin digested the answer.

“This is good, right?” he murmured.

“Maybe,” Steve said. “But our only way out is through.”