Game of Thrones: StormBorn

I watched as Lord Stark left, disappearing out of my chambers with his news of doom and Bloodraven bullshit.

It was a conscious effort not to fry the desk moreso than it already was when I turned back to my friend's corpse.

My best friend's corpse.

The man essential to my future's corpse.

"Fuck" I sat back down, mumbling quietly to myself. 

The Alchemist's assistant that had brought him over had been lucky to escape with his life. Indeed, he had only done so because the situation hadn't quite hit me for a few minutes, and he had been wise enough to hightail it out of the Red Keep.

"Fuck." I reiterated, reaching for his hand but stopping myself. 

"Why couldn't you have finished."

It had been his dream, or, well, one of his big experiments, to raise dead flesh like Frankenstein. I knew it was possible, after all, the Red Faith could do it, but he hadn't had time to succeed.

And now he was dead, and I had no means of bringing him back. 

Hell, I didn't even know where he'd kept his notes. Wasn't that funny?

I expected him to keep track of mine and I didn't even know where he stashed his.

Fuck.

I turned away from the grotesque remains.

It hurt to look at him, to look at how badly I'd failed him. Risks I'd taken replaying in my mind over and over and over and over.

My heart had been sinking like a rock.

My whole life was built on risks, just like the one that had killed him.

Had it been just a miracle until now that none of them had burned me? Was my success only ever illusionary?

Fumbling, I sat down at the balcony and stared up at the storm, raging over my head.

The lightning crashing periodically through the sky held no fear for me. I could tell even now that it was mine, it pulled at me as it went by. 

'I should not have spoken to Lord Stark.'

That too had been a risk, an unacceptable one at that, though even if sat as the lightest of the weights upon my heart.

I anchored myself to my seat, though I yearned to go where the lightning led me. At each flash, my eyes were drawn across the city to the slopes beneath the Great Sept of Baelor, where the oily black dragonglass form of the Alchemist's guild was barely discernible.

I could kill them all. Do it now. I wouldn't even have to leave my seat. I could just direct the lightning to smite them, and then…

And then what?

People would connect it to me if it was so obvious. I was already rumored to be a warlock, and following my friend's death?

That would be too much for the church, and moreover the nobility, to ignore.

No, when I had my revenge it would be with daggers in the night from unknown sources, striking blades and stealing lives without hesitation. I pulled my eyes elsewhere.

To accommodate the lords, or rather, magisters of Essos, I had rented a large compound in the city from the crown. It was a bit distanced from the Red Keep but plentifully luxurious by Westerosi standards.

It had been necessary, the Westerosi would not properly accommodate men and women of their stature. Even those like my uncle who had traveled there still did not respect the aristocracy of Essos. Not as they should anyway.

My thoughts lingered there as the storm began to dim. I was having a sort of bachelor party or feast there tomorrow evening, before my wedding. Many of them I knew had contacts with assassins, spies and the like, such things were commonplace in Essos. Perhaps I could-

I turned and stood quickly as I heard footsteps behind me, my hand reaching for a sword that wasn't there Brienne and Maena hadn't announced any visitor.

"Oh-Arthur"

Through the curtains and onto the balcony, Arianne through herself onto me in a sweeping motion, one she had practiced many times to drag me from my laboratory. "The wisdom Frey, he… I'm so sorry."

I very nearly stumbled, and in an admittedly dangerous place for it too, but caught myself at the last moment, my racing heart relaxing as Arianne wrapped her arms around me.

I looked down into her eyes, dimly illuminated by the torchlight. 

She was so beautiful, even on the verge of tears.

I returned her embrace, my arms wrapping around her lower back, pressing myself against her in turn, our torsos together as we stood there beneath the silent clouds.

"What happened?" She asked after a long moment, drawing herself together, but continuing the embrace.

"The Alchemists killed him. I sent him there to see about recruiting their help. They sent me his corpse." I bit the words out and grit my teeth, my ire again rising even as Arianne subdued it by the kind and thoughtful state that met my own. 

She stared at me a long moment, then turned back into the room to where his body lay, then shortly back to me. At last, she released the embrace. "Are you sure?"

I blinked at the words, then blinked again.

Arianne nodded quickly, not even waiting for a response as I sat down into my chair to think, my mind dumbstruck.

Was I sure?

He was burnt, true, and I had found no other wound on him, but did that mean the Alchemists did it?

No. There were others who used fire.

The man who brought him had been an alchemist, but that didn't mean…

No, he had claimed to be an alchemist, and worn the robe of one.

I groaned.

Arianne stepped around behind my chair, her hands coming to rest on my shoulders.

"Arthur… My prince, you may be powerful beyond your years, but this is King's landing, and you have entered it like a dragon in a garden, but the garden still has thorns."

Her words came quietly, as her hands played along my shoulders, before reaching down to my chest in a calming embrace. "Let me deal with this. You are not suited for poison or daggers in the dark. That Baratheon head of yours is fixed on too strong." 

I felt her breath on my ear, patient and warm, as she spoke, and I felt my body relax a bit. She was right. I was the sort to bring a sledgehammer to problems… 

Still, I couldn't just…

"I don't want you to get hurt," I said at last. "Gerald was better at such things as well, and now I am without him. If you died as well then I don't think I could bear the guilt."

Arianne smiled, coming forth to stand in front of me, and taking up my hands to hold in front of her breasts. "I promise to be safe, my prince." She smiled tenderly, and I felt a bit of guilt as she continued. "We Martell's are good at such things, and I have felt somewhat confined in your ordered Paradise at Storm Sky. You may be unused to crawling through dens of snakes, but I was raised amongst them, and I have far less to fear then you think."

I nodded, once, and she smiled wider. "Good. Now continue being the unassailable prince you are. I brought Tyene with me, and we will speak of what to do next, and where to begin snooping out the true culprit." 

I nodded and she gave me a last hug before departing the room.

I watched her go, her generously proportioned form passing through the doorway, and I kept my sigh to myself, content to just grip my seat a tad harder as the guilt settled on by far the heaviest weight in my chest.

It was the one she fed at our every meeting the uncertainty and guilt born of things I barely understood.

I let go of the wood as I realized I might break it with my squeezing, pushing that heavy guilt down as I dragged my thoughts elsewhere.

That the rock of uncertainty would be crushed in two days anyway.

One way or another.