The tunnels held their secrets.

No guards lingered around– Amalia's hopes had been right. Dressed in their rags, she and Rhaenys had slipped out, on a mission to collect as many of the children as they could. The Princess had reminded her of the cold truth before they set out– Aegon, Aemond, and Helaena had likely been moved from their usual rooms. They probably had guards lingering inside with them. It was entirely possible they would have to be left behind.

Still, Amalia would not give up on any of them. Even Alyrie– if Alyrie could be accessed– would be taken from there. If she did manage to get Helaena out, she feared Alicent would forgo whatever betrothal Alyrie was given and make her daughter Queen. Or she'd pawn her off somewhere worse now that this had erupted.

While they moved about, taking careful steps and listening for disturbances through the walls, Amalia whispered to Rhaenys the details of her conversation with Alicent. Rhaenys had let a chuckle slip when Amalia admitted how she lunged at Alicent and did the worst she could manage in the moment– had she a knife, Alicent would have suffered more.

"I always knew you had it in you," murmured Rhaenys. "You may be remembered always for your Hightower cunning, but I know you've always had a dragon in you. Daemon once told me he wished to teach you to defend yourself."

"He did?" Amalia wondered how that came up in conversation. Probably one of the times that Rhaenys– who knew all– might've made a comment about Daemon's inclinations towards her.

"He thought you'd benefit from lessons, should you ever need them. But he was not here to teach you. He wished to instruct you at Dragonstone– with your hands first, then a knife, then perhaps he'd transition you into archery or even hand you Dark Sister to try a swing."

She blinked, wondering what that might've been like. Daemon, with his hands all over my body to teach me to wield her properly. Knowing him, he'd have made some lewd comment about how much it excited him to see me holding his sword."He never said anything when I went. And I went fairly often."

The Princess shrugged, "He saw how relaxed you were there. I don't believe he wished to interrupt your happiness. He knew you were aware of the need to protect yourself... he wanted it to be your idea, rather than having him impose it on you and heighten your stress."

Considerate, always. The sort of thing she'd never thought Daemon capable of before, but now knew he could do. Almost exclusively with her, she might add. The only others he was consistently this gentle with were his daughters.

They came to Jaehaerys first. His passage was one of the more difficult to access, his room chosen rearranged specifically by Amalia when she realized he was the most likely to sneak out looking for adventure. His bed partially covered just enough of the door that she would not be able to enter the room– he would need to wiggle out when he heard her call. And she had to hope he had no company within, or they'd be found out.

She and Rhaenys remained still for several minutes trying to listen. No sound came, which likely meant Jaehaerys was alone. He couldn't contain himself around people– anyone, even an enemy, would be subjected to conversation if available. Softly, Amalia tapped on the wall. When there came no remark, she tapped a bit harder.

There was movement within, but Jaehaerys probably didn't know where to look. As quietly as she could, she sang out his personal lullaby, "My little love... named for a King..." She paused, hearing him come closer, whispering, "Mother?"

She tapped the wall again, adding, "My clever boy... swiftly he speaks... how we all love, ideas to hear... how we all listen eagerly..."

Jaehaerys sang back, "Let now my words bring soothing... let your dreams be sweet." His voice sounded right across the wall. "Mother? Mother... are you there?"

"I'm here, my love," she said, carefully pushing the door open. He was right there as the crack widened, pushing it until it collided with the bed. "Careful now, and quickly!" She made space for him to slither through, then shut the door as soon as she could.

"Mother," he whispered urgently as she drew him into a tight hug. "What's happening? Lord Jasper said my father is dead. He said Aegon's to be King. I told him he was wrong, that he was being stupid, and they sent me back to my room." He blushed, "Well, not before I told Lord Wylde he was a spineless cunt for turning on my father's wishes."

Of course it had been that which made them think Jaehaerys was better off confined in his apartments. "It's true, my boy," she said gently. "Your father, the King, has passed. My father and Alicent are usurping the throne. Your siblings are all hostages, but I am going to get you all out of here. The ink, Rhaenys." The woman handed her the ink. Amalia dipped her fingers into it, smearing it over his hairline and eyebrows to conceal as many of his Valyrian features as she could.

Jaehaerys's eyes welled up with tears. "Are they alright?" She pursed her lips, offering him now some rags to wear. She turned him around to pin his braid close to his head– not a single pale hair could be seen.

"I don't know," said Amalia truthfully. "Aemond's hurt, Rhaenys was told. Aegon and Helaena may be forced to wed. We're going to get Daeron now, I hope he is alright. I was told he was reassigned to your uncle Tyland."

"If they've hurt them, I will hurt them," said Jaehaerys decidedly. "I may not be as good with my sword as Aemond, but I will hurt them."

She put her hands firmly on his shoulders. "I know you want to hurt them. I want to hurt them, too. I want to hurt everyone who had a hand in this. I should have hurt them a long, long time ago. But right now, vengeance isn't what we seek. We must get you out of here, to safety, to Rhaenyra. We will determine there what we must do. For now, I need you to trust me. I need you to listen to everything I say. I need you to be the quietest you've ever been, at least until we've escaped. Can you do that for me, my boy?"

He nodded slowly. Looping her arm with his, she guided him and Rhaenys further down the passage, down winding steps that dragged them into a new tunnel, heading for Daeron's room. She could hear more noise through the walls this time– not at all silent like Jaehaerys. That could mean trouble, that could mean someone was inside with Daeron.

To enter his room, one needed only to open the door and push aside a tapestry of Old Valyria, a favorite that Viserys had made for him when Daeron showed his interest in history. Amalia pressed her ear to the wall, unsure what was making all this noise– mutterings, something being slammed around, creaking. She couldn't risk calling to Daeron. She would need to open the door and take a peek around the tapestry.

She left Rhaenys and Jaehaerys around the corner, carefully prying open the door. She moved it as slowly as possible, to prevent it from making too much noise. She was glad whatever was happening within masked the grinding of stone. Tiptoeing in, she felt the weight of the tapestry caress her face. She shuffled sideways, until at last she'd reached the edge. Gathering her wits, she inched her face out, just enough that one eye could see.

Daeron was alone, but in a state. He had parchment and books everywhere, his garderobe's door had been broken, clothes were in piles on the ground. "Daeron," she whispered gently, watching him pace back and forth with letters in his hands. "Daeron..."

He whirled around, and immediately ran to her. "Mother, Mother, I thought I would have to sneak a message out to you, I was trying to think how to get out of here, how to get to your apartments!"

"We're going now," she said, taking his hand. "Leave everything behind, unless there is something that may be helpful to us."

He shook his head, "None of it matters. Nothing in any book can help me now. Are we going to Tessarion? She will get us out of here in ways words can't."

That reminded her. "Daeron," she said urgently, "is there anything in any book you can produce about some... dream?" He furrowed his brows. "Your father, he rambled something about Aegon, a dream, a Song of Ice and Fire, something seen in the North. I thought he was delirious, but Alicent is using these words to say that your father changed his mind about Aegon."

Daeron started to grin– truly grin, madly, the same way Daemon sometimes did. She'd never seen him smile like that. "Mother, it's not in any book and it's not our Aegon. It's Aegon the Conqueror. He used to tell me that dream all the time when he thought I was Rhaenyra, nursing his wounds. Father used to say we have the same tone of voice. Aegon the Conqueror had a dream of some... terrible things in the North. Only a ruler come from his blood could unite the Realm to face this great evil. It is the Song of Ice and Fire."

The relief that washed over her was made greater seeing Daeron's glee. She hugged him, then pulled him back into the tunnels, shutting the door behind them. Jaehaerys almost began to cry again, seeing Daeron. "What made them put you in there?" asked Jaehaerys. "Who did you insult?"

"When I found out what they were doing," said Daeron, "I told Uncle Tyland that Aegon wouldn't be King any more than he would ever be Lord of Casterly Rock. I didn't think it was that bad, but he decided he didn't want me around anymore. Then, when they were telling me I couldn't go to Tessarion, I tried to run. They had to drag me back in there shouting and kicking."

Amalia couldn't help but smile. She was quick to smear ink on Daeron's hair and brows too, while Jaehaerys helped him into more rags. "Helaena," said Amalia to Rhaenys. "We have to get Helaena."

Rhaenys didn't look very enthusiastic. "Amalia, you know the truth you may find in that room. It is more likely that she and Aegon are with a septon now, than in their apartments. We haven't the time."

She didn't want to believe that. "We have to try. Helaena, then Aemond. They'll hurt her and they've hurt him already. Aegon, I know I will have to help another way, but I know they will not harm a single hair on his head, they need him looking perfect for the coronation."

Though Rhaenys might've wanted to argue, she said nothing. The group of them scurried even faster, back through another corridor, the sounds on the other side of the wall becoming louder. There was the clatter of armor– guards were moving around, but for what reason, they did not know. It could be they were mobilizing for a wedding, for the coronation, to search for Amalia if they'd already realized she was gone. Gods, they were already running out of time.

Helaena's room was completely vacant when they came upon it. Amalia slipped out the passageway through an unused garderobe carved open at the back to allow direct entry. Her embroidery items were left on the table– she'd only just been taken, for at this hour of the day was when Helaena most liked to see what she could do with thread.

"Amalia, we must go," pleaded Rhaenys. "We haven't the time. We must move to the Dragonpit now, before they realize we may be using these tunnels. We will return for them, I swear to you. But if we do not go now, we will not get out of the castle."

Silently, Amalia led them back through the tunnels, running further and further down until they reached a staircase leading to the kitchens. Amalia pushed the door open, ushering them into the pantry where they let the wines and cheeses age. From there, she snuck them through the long path flanked by cases of wine, until a new door opened, out into the open where the wine was brought in by carriages.

"Ser Luthor," she called as loud as she dared, a Gold Cloak loyal to Daemon often the one who oversaw the food and drink that made entry into the castle.

"My Queen," he said, surprised to see her. "The Gold Cloaks have been briefed about a coronation. They say the King has passed, that we will be asked to escort your son to the Dragonpit for his coronation."

Of course, they will crown him before the masses and force them to see him as their rightful king. "They are usurping the throne," she told him. "My late husband made no such changes in the succession. They have my three eldest hostage. For all the loyalty you bear Daemon, and the loyalty you bore your King, I beg you to get Rhaenys and my boys to the Dragonpit before the coronation. They need to fly to Dragonstone."

"Get us there?" said Jaehaerys. "Aren't you coming with us?"

"I need to get the others," insisted Amalia. "The three of you can get out while you can. I need to see these letters to Lady Kira Caswell. When Helaena returns, wed or unwed, I will get her. Together we can move Aemond if he is too weak to do it himself."

"Beg your pardon, Your Grace," said Ser Luthor, "but we've minutes until the procession begins. There won't be time to get any of them anymore. Unless all four of you go now, there won't be an opportunity to leave the castle again."

Rhaenys gripped her arm. "He's right, Amalia. You and Jaehaerys can ride with me on Meleys. Daeron and Tessarion will fly beside us. I am sure Daemon can find a way to get them all out once we tell him everything."

"I cannot abandon my children," she begged, starting to cry. "If they think I left them behind–"

"Listen to me." Rhaenys held her shoulders. "You can help them more if you go to Rhaenyra. You taught them all well. I'm sure they are clever enough to defend themselves. With Daeron and Jaehaerys both gone, all three must be kept alive and unharmed. They knew already not to trust Otto or Alicent, they have watched you use your words to protect them and I am certain they have learned to use them, too. We have to go, Amalia. We have to."

Weakly, she let Rhaenys pull her with Ser Luthor, who moved to one of the carts, covered with a tarp. "You've letters, you said?" asked the guard. Amalia replied, "Yes, I wished for Lady Kira to find a way to send them discreetly, none will be watching her. Do you know if any of the maesters are imprisoned?"

"Gorfin's in the Black Cells. I hate to tell you this, Your Grace, but Lady Kira Caswell is confined in her chambers. Lord Caswell refused to bend the knee. His head and the heads of other traitors have been put on spikes already. There'll be no getting her to slip about unnoticed."

There went her plan of having someone within the castle get these letters out. The longer range option would be needed, then. "Have you anyone who can get these letters sent out? Someone who can be trusted to ride to Rosby, or perhaps someone who won't be thought of as out of place within the castle?"

Ser Luthor hummed, "Yes, I do. One of my men has a nephew that feeds the ravens when the maesters are out. The boy knows which raven flies where. I will see the letters get to him." He lifted the cover, ushering them into the cart. They had no choice but to lay flat amidst boxes of what smelled like potatoes. As soon as Amalia was seated, she brought out the pile of letters and offered it to him. "Don't worry, Your Grace, they'll get to where they need to be. This carriage will stop before it reaches the Dragonpit, but it'll give you a head start."

"Thank you, Ser Luthor," she whispered. "You have served me faithfully."

"It has been my honor, Your Grace," he told her. "Daemon told me long ago that a day might come where you would need me. He said I should make sure I was a good man that day, for he'd reward me handsomely." He smiled crookedly, unashamed to admit he liked the idea of compensation. "He'll be glad to see you at Dragonstone, I'm sure."

Her face reddened as he dropped the cover. Within a minute, the cart was bumping hard along the roads, none questioning when Ser Luthor called for it to pass. Wringing her hands together, Amalia peeked out through the holes, watching the people move about as they always did, as if nothing had yet changed. No one outside of the castle and the guard knew the King was dead... no, they were surely going to give this news at the coronation.

Bells began to ring seconds into their trip– the smallfolk were already being urged to gather. Before they reached the summit of Rhaenys's hill, the cart came to a stop, boxes beginning to unload into a pub right at the end of the Street of Silk. Amalia and Rhaenys wiggled out first, pulling the boys with them and walking up to the Dragonpit, masked by the other smallfolk that made their way up in confusion.

Many of them were wondering in whispers, asking if Helaena and Jacaerys were somehow already being married as was rumored, if they were going to be given some sort of demonstration from the dragons, if King Viserys had an announcement for all of them. Amalia kept them tight to the edge as they moved to the upper floor of the Dragonpit, where the children had their lessons. From there, Daeron pulled them sideways into a dark passage.

"These stairs lead down to the caves," he whispered. "Princess Rhaenys and I will go down to get our dragons– it's better only the two of us go, the others will be loud if they hear too many footsteps. Wait here, I'll come for you both when we're ready to fly out."

Amalia knew she had to trust him, especially when Rhaenys nodded in support. She and Jaehaerys kept in the corner, quickly obscured by other people who were all chattering mindlessly. They looked to an elevated platform ahead, a slab of stone where they usually let the children saddle their dragons for the first time. She remembered being here the first time Tessarion was big enough to ride, watching Daeron learn to clip the saddle and mount her. How different those times had been.

Guards were shouting orders, forcing the smallfolk to cram into every available space. Amalia held Jaehaerys's hand tightly when she saw the platform being filled– Otto walked out, along with the remaining members of the Kingsguard. Criston Cole now walked in the front and center, apparently the new Lord Commander to replace Ser Harrold Westerling, who while absent, was sure to have never agreed to any of this.

She saw them, then, her children. Helaena, in a black dress and with a veil over her face. It was too far to see her expression, but Amalia could see her head tilted down– she was uncomfortable, she was scared. Then, Aemond, gods, he was being held tight by one of the guards, forced to stand beside Helaena. His face looked dark, as if heavily bruised. Surely, several men had had to combine their strength to stop his escape. Her poor son, her poor baby boy.

Alicent's face looked the same when she went to stand with them, Tyland and Alyrie beside her. Amalia wanted to beat into Alicent again. Clearly, she was still wearing dresses that mimicked Amalia's style. Her plan had probably been to pretend to be Amalia and show her support, but the bruises and scabs made it too obvious that it was not her at all.

"People of King's Landing!" shouted Otto once they'd reached their capacity. "Today is the saddest of days. Our beloved King, Viserys the Peaceful, is dead."

More chatter broke out, but Otto's voice boomed to silence them, "But it is also the most joyous of days. For as his spirit left us, he whispered his final wish that his firstborn son, Aegon, should succeed him."

"Succeed him?" she heard a woman whisper ahead of them. "But his heir is Princess Rhaenyra!"

Another woman called out in agreement, "Where is Rhaenyra? Our Queen always told us Rhaenyra would succeed, that she was the heir!"

"Where is our Queen?" asked a man. "Why isn't she here if her son is to be King?" They are talking about me. "OY! Queen Amalia didn't want this! King Viserys didn't want this!"

To her surprise, others were in agreement. People all around were asking for her, asking how this could be true. Her heart swelled with pride. These people knew her more than they knew anyone else in the castle. For decades she'd talked to them, prayed to them, let them see her face and hear her words and feel her touch. She'd told them all that Rhaenyra was to be Queen, at different points. They even knew Aegon, when she'd taken him to the sept. They knew he never wanted to be King.

Guards began to push their way through, silencing those showing any dissent. A march began in the center, the Gold Cloaks now lined up and escorting to the platform a lone figure– her Aegon. He shuffled forward far too quickly– but not with a speed that meant he was eager, rather one that showed he wanted to have this done as soon as possible.

He showed no enthusiasm as he rose on the platform. More people were shouting, asking about Amalia, about Rhaenyra, even questioning Aegon directly if any of this was true. All were silenced, either with sharp words or with clouts against the mouth. "It is your great good fortune and privilege to be here to witness this!" shouted Otto. "A new day for our city, a new day for our realm, a new King to lead us!"

A septon came to stand before Aegon, anointing him with the sacred oils. "May the Warrior give him courage. May the Smith lend strength to his sword and shield. May the Father defend him in his need. May the Crone lift her shining lamp and light his way to wisdom."

You are no true septon. The Seven do not like liars and traitors, and all of you are liars and traitors. Ser Criston took the septon's place, holding in his hands a dark crown. "The crown of the Conqueror, passed down through generations. Let the Seven bear witness, Aegon Targaryen is the true heir to the Iron Throne."

He placed the crown on Aegon's unwilling head. The septon proclaimed, "All hail His Grace, Aegon, Second of His Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm!"

"Aegon the King!" called Ser Criston. "Long live Aegon! Long live his wife, the Queen Helaena!" Amalia's stomach dropped. They'd been wed, surely right before they came here.

Jaehaerys squeezed her hand. "It's alright, Mother." He didn't sound so sure himself, but he tried to explain, "They cannot force them to bed each other when they're both unwilling. They're married in name only, right? They don't need a bedding as long as they can tell people they're married."

He was right, but it worried her all the same. Jaehaerys tugged her sideways as the crowd– easily impressionable that they were– joined in the chant for Aegon the King. Some probably felt this was right, but many still look confused– and many were hurt because of their resistance. Daeron was poking his head out of the staircase, beckoning the two of them to come down and join them.

Their mount was swift– Daeron and Jaehaerys were quick to help Amalia up onto Meleys. There were Dragonkeepers milling about, but all were silent– none of them made any objection as Rhaenys looped her chain around Amalia, then around Jaehaerys. Amalia held onto Rhaenys's shoulders, watching Daeron leap onto Tessarion.

She burst into tears as the dragons inched their way out of the pit, kicking off once they were in the open. People began to shout below– they'd been seen already. Soon, all anyone would know was that Meleys and Tessarion had left the pit. If they didn't already know Amalia was gone, they'd know now. Perhaps they knew the boys were gone, they might've been looking for them when they gathered everyone for the procession.

Amalia felt Jaehaerys hugging her, gently rubbing her back as she sobbed, covering her face and whispering over and over, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Helaena, Aemond, Aegon, I'm sorry. I will come back for you." And I will kill everyone who had a hand in doing this to you.