at the ending of the day - Jaehaerys, npc's Who: Jaehaerys, Maester Allyns (NPC), Jahar Xhe (NPC) Where: Summerhall, the king's chambers When: Aug 21, late evening Status: Closed, complete log Rating: R
"You found what?" The king's voice was quiet but it rang with barely-hidden anger.
"Th-the Dreams of Qarth, Your Grace. It was within the material itself- a useful trick the courtesans of Braavos perfected ages ago. They once had a custom of sending poisoned gowns to their rivals."
There was a horrific crash as a crystal decanter went sailing through the air along with everything else that had been on the desk. Allyns leaped back and tried not to twitch as the king rounded on him. Jaehaerys had fury written in every line of his body, and his jaw was set in a way that did not bode well for anyone who crossed his path. The maester couldn't help but notice the sword at the king's side seemed to have a much bigger presence in the room than it had a moment before, and Jaehaerys came closer, looking down at the shorter man with an expression not unlike the dragons eying something they were not sure was big enough to bother devouring.
The door to the chamber opened and Ser Gerric's face appeared. "Your Grace--?"
Jaehaerys did not turn. "Leave us." His tone was deathly still, and only a fool would have disobeyed him. The door clicked shut with the terrible finality of a tomb. His blue-violet eyes never left the Maester. "Where is the peasant boy who Rhaeys brought to you, Maester?"
"He's ill, my leige. Terribly ill... the fever I might fix but he is vomiting any liquid he takes... I do not expect him to live long..."
"William Stark's daughter and nephew are ill as well. They too touched that cloth, as have I. As have you."
"There was not much remaining... but the children would not need to absorb much. Just hold it for a time, and their bodies will be more susceptible..."
"The peasant boy's illness does not sound like a dreamer's death," Jaehaerys hissed.
"N-no! It is not! His father's apprentice boy was ill as well, my king. I believe he only had that same... only the symptoms of the Dreams made it worse... I believe he took more of the poison, or it affected him more greatly somehow..."
Jaehaerys stepped away from the maester, turning on his heel and running his hand through his hair. A sound of disgust escaped him. "Are Genna and Ned ill of the same combination as the forester's son?"
Allyns relaxed microscopically, just enough to let his heart begin to beat in a faintly normal pattern. "I-I believe so, Your Grace, if we discount what are probably the lingering effects of the Dreams. I have treated them with the antidote such as it is, but I... I fear the peasant boy was too far lost before I could administer it. I cannot seem to help him keep anything in his stomach, not even water. The Stark children are healthier, and they had less of the drug so the ailments could not take such a hold on them... though the girl's fever is... worrying. The Dreams affected her much more strongly I think."
Jaehaerys scowled at that. Of course they would: Genna had by whatever trick of the gods inherited more traits of the dragon than her lord father would want to guess. It was reassuring in a way: if something did go amiss, at least the blood was strong enough in the Stark line to perhaps keep the dragons' blood alive in the world. At least it had been reassuring, until this wretched affair began. Whoever was doing this might still be keeping watch, and if their gaze turned to Genna...
The Dreams of Qarth had led Daenerys Stormborn to burn the House of the Undying, and thus set all of Qarth on a path to a civil war that had scorched the once-great empire for a century. They had led Euron Crowseye to rule half the reach and the Iron Isles and wreak a nightmare that still echoed in the songs of the Shield Islands more strongly even than those other horrors of the Long Winter. The Dreams of Qarth were the ancient and terrifying cousins of the Warlock's Kiss- the liquor Elia and her friends often shared which could induce minor hallucinations and created mad devotees among its drinkers, especially the writers and singers, but the Dreams were the true thing: once administered they would catch their victim in a waking dream with no escape until at last the drugs made their way through the system. The heart sped up, the temperature rose, and all ability to tell reality from dream was entirely lost.
Take enough of the Dreams, and they would never release you. The unfortunate dreamer could die without ever noticing hunger or thirst, without any idea their body was falling into death. Lost in whatever madness the poison and fever had wrought, they could just as easily walk through a window or swallow glass without realizing what they had done. Or wildfire. Targaryens had a strange susceptibility to the poison, though its effects were maddeningly erratic and although it took longer to fade, the blood of the dragon seemed to allow some greater ability to function... which explained Genna's behavior in the hall.
Had Elia taken the drug, or one of her friends? The parties had been mad without adding waking dreams, but Elia was often thoughtless, she could have... but why not take it in the usual way? Why put it into silk...?
Unless...
Jaehaerys picked up the fragment with a gloved hand and held it to the light again. His stomach twisted painfully, fear adding to the anger roiling within him.
"Return to the children, Allyns. Tell Jahar to come in."
The maester did not need to be given a reprieve more than once. He hurried to the door like a man freed from the noose. Jaehaerys waited.
The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard arrived within moments of Allyns' departure. He bowed deeply to his king, but Jaehaerys paid it no mind. He walked across the room, and as the older man straightened, Jaehaerys dealt him a blow across the face that left his own hand aching.
Jahar turned his head back to Jaehaerys, face impassive despite the blood tricking from his cheek. "Your Grace?"
"You will tell me every move Elia made that night, Jahar, and you will tell me now. All of it." He held up the white fabric, and his voice had an almost conversational tone. "I want to know how this came to be in the lake with her. And if you dare to tell me that you do not know, Jahar, I will take it as a sign you have tired of life and would like to pay for each and every one of your sins by screaming for each and every one of them as you die."
"I did nothing but my duty, my king. I would not act differently."
"Oh, I trust that much, but your duty is now to tell me everything. Especially about this wonderful silk, which strangely enough resembles something that was once in my possession... Now begin talking, my loyal knight."
Sadness shone in the Lord Commander's eyes., "I beg your grace, leave it be."
"No."
"Jaehaerys--"
"Do you think a thousand screams will be enough? Or are there more than that within your soul?"
Jahar bowed his head. "Very well. The princess did go to the old quarters that night..."