The chamber was quiet, tucked in one of the more neglected wings of the Red Keep, a corridor whose stone floors bore more dust than footprints. Few passed this way frequently. There were no lordly apartments nearby, no storerooms of worth, not many guards posted or servants assigned.
It was an unassuming chamber. But Rhaegar knew better. And he had known that for some time now.
He leaned against the far wall, cloak loose, boots dusty, his violet eyes focused on nothing in particular. A coil of anticipation twisted lazily in his gut, tinged with the faintest hint of amusement.
He glanced at the wall ahead, at the faint lines in the stone that no one else seemed to notice.
He had found them some years ago—or rather, he had found a way into them. The hidden passages of Maegor the Cruel, built by the tyrant king and sealed in secrecy by blood. Many even in the Red keep believed they were myths or conjured tales made up by people who had too much time on their hands.
But he knew they existed before ever being born in this cursed world.
So at the age of seven, he had made it his mission to find them.
It hadn't been easy. He hadn't known where they were exactly, or how to get into them. There were few scarce details on them in the story he had once read, and even the memories of that he could not blindly rely on.
He knew that several halls and chambers had entrances to the secret passages, but he could not exactly inspect every single nook and cranny of the gargantuan castle.
But he still had a few clues on where one of those entrances could be. And it had been possibly the most troublesome place for someone to snoop around.
A passage from the Tower of the Hand, he remembered hazy memories of reading. A hidden entrance within the Hand's own bedchamber.
He had haunted the tower suspiciously often during that time. Once, he had been caught loitering outside the study by Septon Barth himself.
He had told the old man he had questions about the Faith.
Barth had looked at him as if he were slightly mad — and entirely sincere — and waved him in.
The frequent sessions that had followed had been dull, agonizing, and utterly painful.
But eventually, after more gruelling religious sessions than Rhaegar would have liked, he found it.
A single, jagged stone in the base of the hearth. Pressed just so, it shifted. The wall beside it groaned open to reveal a descending tunnel, tight and black as pitch. That had led to the dragon mosaic. And the dragon mosaic had led... everywhere.
From there, the maze unfolded.
He hadn't dared to explore too far, too quickly. He'd kept careful records. Mapped corners. Counted steps. Memorized turns. Some tunnels led to cellars. Some to hidden nooks behind walls. And in time, he found this chamber, connected to one such passage — discreet, quiet, and largely unused. A perfect entry point.
He suspected — though he had no proof — that this was the room that would one day house a certain spider. But for now, it was his.
What he had not found yet was the full path to the Dragonpit.
He only had a rough idea of the direction, a vague understanding of distance and descent. The rest would be guesswork.
But that was part of the appeal tonight.
He glanced toward the door.
Rhaenys was late.
He wasn't surprised.
He paced for another minute, then leaned against the wall again, staring at the torchlight flickering across the stone.
He looked up as the door creaked open.
Rhaenys stepped in.
She wore a dark cloak drawn up around her shoulders, her hair braided loosely and tucked under the hood. Her eyes seemed to sparkle with anticipation and excitement.
"Took you long enough," he said with exaggerated boredom.
"I had to make sure no one saw me sneaking around," came her unapologetic reply.
Rhaegar raised a brow. "And did anyone?"
"No," she said, brushing imaginary dust from her shoulder. "I'm far more subtle than you give me credit for."
She pulled off her hood and walked forward, glancing around the unremarkable stone chamber. "This is your secret lair, is it?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Rhaegar said, deadpan. "It's a temporary forward operating base."
Rhaenys snorted. "And you say I'm dramatic."
He stood and grabbed the small torch resting beside the lamp. As he did, she raised her brows and tugged the edges of her cloak.
Rhaegar gave her a long look, then gestured to her feet. "You wore quiet boots?"
She stomped once. "Yes. I'm not stupid."
"Sure," came the flat reply as he walked towards the opposite wall.
Torch in hand, he pressed his fingers into a jagged stone near the wall. The old stone groaned.
A section of the wall shuddered.
Then, slowly, with a low grinding sound, it slid inward.
The passage beyond was dark, narrow, and full of cobwebs.
Rhaenys stared, open-mouthed.
"You—actually—" she started, then shook her head. "You found it."
"I did."
"How?"
Rhaegar looked over his shoulder and smirked.
"It's a secret."
She made a face. "Of course it is."
He stepped aside, gesturing her toward the narrow passage beyond. She leaned in, then recoiled slightly.
"It smells dusty and...abandoned ."
As she had described, the stone walls were damp with age, etched faintly with markings he hadn't yet deciphered. It smelled of earth, mildew, and dust piled from disuse.
"Of course it does. I am probably the first person to use them in likely half a century."
"Are you sure this leads to the Dragonpit?" she asked.
"No," Rhaegar replied.
She halted. "Wait—what?"
"Well, I am reasonably sure it connects to the one that does."
"That is not what you said yesterday."
"Do you want to go or not?"
"Fine," she sighed.
He stepped aside and gestured toward the entrance. "Good. After you, your foolishness."
"You first," she said. "You're the map."
"Fair."
He raised the torch, illuminating the entrance to the descending tunnel.
Both of them donned the hood of their cloaks and prepared to enter.
They had just reached the mouth of the hidden passage when it happened.
A voice.
"What are the both of you doing here?"
Both of them froze.
They turned in unison.
Standing in the doorway, squinting against the dim light, was Viserys.
His hair was tousled, his tunic wrinkled, and he seemed deeply confused, looking like he had just wandered in by accident, which, knowing the buffoon, was likely the truth.
"What are you doing here all alon—"
He didn't finish.
Rhaegar lunged, one hand over Viserys's mouth, the other yanking him bodily into the chamber. Rhaenys, bless her, moved instantly, slamming the chamber's door shut just as Viserys was pulled inside.
There was a muffled sound.
A yelp. A struggle.
Then silence.
The passage stood before them once again.
Only now, there were three.
And one of them was being held by the mouth, like he was being abducted.