Chapter Text
It was late in the afternoon when Mushroom finally pushed open the door to the tavern and made his way through. The warmth of the inside finally gave him respite from the cold beyond these solid walls and finally, the shivering stopped. He had been fearful that he had caught the dreaded Winter Fever, but those condemned to die didn’t stop shivering once they were filled with something warm, once a cozy fire was nearby to toast their little toes. The shivering only halted when their blood froze, and they sweated themselves dry and died. He wasn’t going to die today, as if anyone would mind.
“Looking for a job little man?” The tavern owner shouted over.
“I must apologize, your noticeboard went right over my head.” Someone in the common room chuckled. At least I can make someone laugh, how you have fallen, dear Mushroom. “But I must refuse, this house once had whores to entertain your customers, you must be desperate if you think I could take their place.”
Mushroom pondered while an ancient wench dropped a plate of hard bread before him. The crust looked as wrinkled as her face.
"Aye," the man replied gruffly. "The queen bought all my girls and took them to her gilded brothel barge."
And the only cunts to offer now are from nose-less poxy wenches. His eyes did turn to the tavern wench, an old hag limping towards him with some bread he had asked for.
"And I need some entertainment, my very own dwarf for my very own court."
The idea did appeal to him, but it bit harder than the chilly winter winds outside. Once he had been the court fool and dwarf of the Red Keep, he got laughs from royalty and nobility, he even advised them in serious matters and counselled princes. Was he really to sell his skills as an astounding comic to some random tavern, the first place he stopped when he left court? But he felt his coin pouch, it jingled a bit with coppers and countless silvers. Another of his jokes for everything was countless to an innumerate dwarf.
"Your own court?" Mushroom's eyes swept across the near-empty common room. A drunk snored in one corner, face planted in spilled ale. Two merchants argued over shipping rates by the hearth. A cat licked itself atop an empty barrel. "I see your subjects are most attentive, Your Grace. Though I must say, your throne room could use a proper sweeping."
The tavern keeper's face reddened. "Mock if you will, but I pay well enough. Three coppers a night, plus room and board."
"Three coppers?" Mushroom clutched his chest in mock horror. "I once made a queen shoot wine through her nose! I've juggled for princes and told riddles that stumped maesters. Three coppers wouldn't even cover the bells on my motley."
"Four coppers then, and all the ale you can drink."
Mushroom fingered his coin purse again. The familiar weight of it had grown lighter with each passing day since leaving the Red Keep. His stomach growled at the smell of roasting meat from the kitchen.
"Well, I was once employed by our noble queen and her sire for many years prior." Mushroom shifted in his seat, the wooden bench creaking beneath him. The sound drew more attention than his small frame warranted. "This is certainly a nice establishment, one I could certainly see as my new home." His eyes drifted up to the low roof, but who was he to judge? It was low for him, but he had lived with the high ceilings of the Red Keep and the towers of Dragonstone, and this room was high for him, for everything even the chair and table was high.
The tavern keeper's mouth twitched. "The queen's fool? Here?"
"The very same." Mushroom gave an exaggerated bow from his seat. "Though I must say your establishment lacks certain amenities I grew accustomed to. Where are the dragon skulls? The tapestries? The knights in their shining armor?" He gestured at the drunk passed out in the corner. "Though I see you've matched the quality of some of the courtiers."
The tavern keeper snorted. "Least you'll get a room," the tavern owner offered. "And paid in coppers and beer."
A grin spread across Mushroom's face as memories flooded back of the nobles' enhanced wines and that pear brandy King Viserys received from traders in the east. "The piss of gods!" he had proclaimed, drowning himself with a bottle of the stuff while the court roared with laughter. Old King Viserys had slapped his massive belly, tears streaming down his face. Little Princess Rhaenyra's giggles had echoed through the halls, her violet eyes sparkling with mirth as she watched him stagger about.
The smile lingered but turned hollow when Mushroom's gaze fell upon the grimy tankards and stained wooden tables. This place likely sold the piss of man instead. Oh how far you have fallen, he thought, remembering the gleaming goblets and crystal decanters of the Red Keep.
His mind drifted to those grand feasts in the Great Hall, where he'd dance between tables while dragons watched from above, their skulls casting long shadows in the torchlight. Sweet Rhaenyra would call him to her side, sharing morsels from her plate as he whispered the latest court gossip in her ear. Even when she grew older and the weight of being heir pressed upon her shoulders, she still smiled at his jests.
But those days were gone now, replaced by this dim tavern with its watered ale and stale bread. The only dragons here were the worn copper ones in his purse, growing fewer by the day. No more fine silks and velvet motley - just threadbare wool that barely kept out the chill.
Mushroom ran a finger along the rough wooden table, collecting grime. In the Red Keep, servants would have scrubbed until the surfaces gleamed. Here, the only cleaning seemed to come from the occasional swipe of a filthy rag.
From entertaining kings to amusing drunks, he mused. From feasting on peacock to gnawing day-old bread. But what choice did he have? His purse grew lighter each day, and winter's icy fingers reached further south with each passing week.
"Did you really serve in the King's court?" A voice cut through the tavern's din. The speaker, a thin man with a merchant's cap pulled low over his eyes, leaned forward from his table.
Heads turned. The drunk in the corner snorted and lifted his face from the puddle of ale. Even the arguing merchants fell silent, their dispute forgotten.
"Oh yes, what a time." Mushroom straightened his shoulders, memories flooding back of those golden days. "Feasts were as common and never-ending, with hundreds of courses, seventy-seven to honor the gods, but more for any occasion. And there was always an occasion to feast." His mouth watered at the recollection. "I remember when the Realm's Delight had announced her first pregnancy, once that feast had ended, she had birthed her first boy and announced the second."
The merchant's eyes widened. Others drew closer, abandoning their tables to cluster around Mushroom's corner. The tavern keeper stopped wiping his grimy counter, cloth forgotten in his hand.
"And the entertainment," Mushroom continued, warming to his audience. "There had never been so many mummers and poets commissioned since Queen Rhaenys Targaryen and they danced and sang on any occasion, there was never a time I lacked a rival who wanted my throne of laughs."
A serving girl paused, pitcher suspended mid-pour, as Mushroom's voice carried through the room. The cat stopped its grooming to watch with yellow eyes.
"And the cooks would turn every meal into a masterpiece. The last feast I attended I must speak of in detail." Mushroom's hands moved as he spoke, painting pictures in the air. "The pinnacle was an enormous pie, surmounted with smaller pies, forming a crown. The crust of the large pies was silvered all around and gilt at the top."
Someone's stomach growled audibly. The tavern keeper's daughter appeared in the kitchen doorway, drawn by the tale.
"Each contained a whole roe, a gosling, three capons, six chickens, ten pigeons, one rabbit and, no doubt to serve as seasoning or stuffing, a minced loin of veal, two pounds of fat, and twenty-six hard-boiled eggs, covered with saffron and flavored with cloves." Mushroom paused, his own mouth watering at the memory. The assembled crowd hung on his every word, their faces reflecting hunger both for food and for tales of such grandeur.
"And I was at the end of the hall taking a break when this was brought to the squires, I dare not think what the king was brought." He let the implications hang in the air, watching his audience's eyes grow wider still.
"Stop with the food talk!" One of them groaned loudly, he looked as if he would devour him whole. Winter was here and he was already mourning the court food he could no longer consume with such gusto.
"Well King Viserys had a large appetite, and he knew it, he was quite self-conscious about his growing gut, so the entire court helped to bring him comfort. To help him not eat himself into such a round shape, they tried to eat the food before him." Mushroom chuckled but soon silenced himself. It isn't fun when you're the only one laughing. He mused.
The crowd had drawn closer now, even the drunk had stumbled over, swaying on unsteady feet. Their eyes gleamed with interest - not for tales of food anymore, but for the juicy court gossip that might follow.
"There were the early days between the Blacks and the Greens, they were fun." Mushroom rose from his seat, gesturing grandly. "They dueled with their wombs, Alicent got the first hit when she bore Prince Aegon." He thrust his belly forward in an exaggerated motion. "And then the second with Princess Helaena, and a third time with Prince Aemond."
A few chuckles rippled through the crowd as Mushroom continued his performance, patting his round belly. "She went for a fourth with Prince Daeron when the Princess finally armed herself and struck back hard with Prince Jacaerys, then again the following year with Prince Lucerys."
Mushroom twirled, his motions becoming more animated. "By then the Queen was in the lead with four successful hits and decided to stay on the defensive when the Princess gave a third strong blow with Prince Joffrey. She would strike two more times with Princes Aegon and Viserys, getting in the lead when Princess Helaena gave her brother-husband three children."
He enjoyed acting out before the crowd, moving his belly as if mimicking a sword with it, striking at invisible foes. If only this was a less reputable crowd, I might duel with my cock, it is long enough to outrange many a sword. If the duel had only been between the two queens then the Blacks would have won, but if they added Helaena's contribution then the Greens would have won the war of the wombs."
Mushroom wiped away a genuine tear, his usual theatrical flair giving way to real emotion. "I liked the King back then, it was nice. Then there was the bloody Year of the Red Spring when the Blacks and the Greens drew blood. From then I went to Dragonstone with my Princess. That place was dreary, but I kept her happy and cheerful despite the drab decor. I did return to our king every now and then, I was the only one who could make him laugh when sickness began to take him. That kept him going, but the Princess took me back with her to Dragonstone, and he continued to weaken without my aid until..." He paused, remembering the warmth of Viserys' laughter, how it would boom through the halls of the Red Keep. "We all know what happened. He died and nothing was standing between the realm and war."
The crowd pressed closer, hungry for more details. Even the cat had crept nearer, settling at Mushroom's feet as if drawn to his tale.
"It was in those days when the King was absent from his throne when we received a visitor." Mushroom's voice dropped lower, forcing his audience to lean in. "Those were the days when the young Wolf Lord came to Rhaenyra's services. I told her he would do no good, he was wrong I told her. Some sorcerer from the east who drew magic from blood. He whispered to birds during the night after conversing with bats and always kept company with a wolf large enough for a man to ride with red eyes and fur white as snow."
Mushroom's face darkened as he recalled those days. "By then she no longer listened to me and kept to herself, she secluded herself from court when she began carrying another child and that was when the Wolf Lord began to afflict her, I was sure of it." His hands clenched into fists. "Even when the Queen gave birth to a scaly, malformed child, she ignored the signs and kept that debased sorcerer, as an advisor. The man was debauched like no other. He had seduced the Rogue Prince's daughters, turning them into his personal whores and abandoning them, heavy with child, when they failed to satisfy his insatiable lusts. He rendered the queen's own handmaids bowlegged with his nightly attentions, leaving them with bastards in their wombs, and the serving girls were treated no better, left with nothing to cover themselves but his thick seed."
Mushroom's voice wove the tale well as he recounted these sordid affairs. "The man spared no one his lechery, and the queen, blind to his wickedness, allowed it all to unfold under her very nose."
"Soon guardsmen left their stations and were found rutting with random wenches or even the wives of lords.” As much as he loved Rhaenyra, his heart still shuddered when he remembered sneaking into her chambers as he tended to do when boredom encroached upon his mind. mushroom would spend the night beating his cock as he watched his Princess. Most nights she would begin to pleasure herself, she would drop her covers and spend an hour groaning into the night before having her release.
Then one fateful night, when he crept into Rhaenyra's chambers as he'd done countless times before, he was greeted by a scene that would forever shatter his perception of the Princess he so adored. Instead of finding her alone, lost in the throes of self-pleasure as he had grown accustomed to witnessing, he beheld the shocking sight of the infamous Wolf Lord claiming her body with a primal savagery.
The Wolf Lord's broad frame loomed over Rhaenyra, his powerful hips driving his cock deep into her core with each thrust. The grunts and snarls that escaped his throat sounded almost animalistic, a testament to the raw, unrestrained lust that consumed him. And the Princess beneath him? Far from protesting, she met each assault with wanton abandon, her cries of ecstasy and pleasure echoing through the chamber.
Mushroom stood frozen, his heart fracturing as memories of their shared past flooded his mind. He recalled the intimate lessons he had imparted to her, teaching her the art of pleasuring a man with her mouth, the long nights they had spent exploring the boundaries of desire. How he had carefully lowered his own cock to her, taking care not to overwhelm her, until she had become adept at sucking him to completion with her skilled tongue. He remembered the weeks that followed, when she had spent hours devotedly servicing his cock, honing her skills.
But those cherished moments now felt like a distant dream, shattered by the reality of what unfolded before him. Watching the Wolf Lord reduce Rhaenyra to a mewling, writhing mass of need, he felt a profound sense of loss, as if something precious and irreplaceable had been ripped away. Even as his own body betrayed him, his cock stirring with unwanted arousal, he knew that he could never view his Princess the same way again.
Mushroom's face darkened as he continued his tale, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. The tavern crowd pressed closer, their ale forgotten.
"Oh yes, she flaunted him openly once she claimed her father's throne. The halls of the Red Keep echoed with their coupling each night. Her screams of pleasure could be heard from the highest tower to the deepest dungeon of the black cells." Mushroom's hands trembled as he recalled those days. "She'd parade about afterward, marks on her neck and shoulders, proudly displaying how thoroughly he'd used her."
Mushroom paused, his hand trembling slightly as he brought the tankard to his lips. The ale, watered down and bitter, burned as it slid down his throat, but he welcomed the sting. It helped to dull the memory.
"He took his pleasure from anyone he wanted," Mushroom rasped, his voice hoarse from memories. "And she didn't seem to mind. Nobody was spared. Oh no, not even Queen Alicent. She was so proud once, so haughty, sneering down her nose at us all as if we were mere fleas to be brushed off. But then, when he came along, it was like she couldn't get enough."
The dwarf shook his head, his eyes glazed over as he lost himself in the recollection. "I remember the night he dragged her to his chambers. Her, the Queen! Screaming and begging for more as he took her again and again. And do you know what? She brought her own daughter to him too. Sweet little Helaena, beautiful and naive. Rhaenyra delivered her sister to him herself, standing there with those violet eyes as he claimed them both."
Mushroom slammed his fist on the table, his face twisted in disgust. "But that wasn't enough for him. No, he had to mark them, claim them. When they stumbled out of his chambers early in the morning, it was clear what had happened. Their faces and breasts were covered in his seed, their cunts dripping with it. Like filthy animals, that's what they were to him."
He leaned back, his shoulders slumping as the weight of the memories settled over him. "And yet, they kept coming back for more. Alicent, Helaena, all of them. It was like a sickness, this need to be debased, to be used and tossed aside like a soiled rag. And Rhaenyra..." He trailed off, his voice breaking. "Rhaenyra reveled in it. She watched, she encouraged it, she even joined in sometimes. Oh, the things I've seen, the things I've heard..."
The tavern had grown deathly quiet. Even the usually boisterous drunkards listened with rapt attention.
"Then the war truly began. Her husband and sons were sent away to gather forces. The realm bled as men answered their queen's call." Mushroom's voice grew hoarse. "We all know what followed - Prince Lucerys, torn apart by Vhagar over Shipbreaker Bay. Prince Joffrey's head delivered in a velvet bag. Battles and bloodshed, dragons falling from the skies."
He paused, collecting himself. "When the Greens fled, we took King's Landing. But chaos followed - a moon of three kings, they called it. Though there was a fourth that few speak of. While whores held court in their brothels and peasants stormed the Dragonpit, our queen retreated to the Red Keep. I tried to comfort her as dragons died and the city burned."
Mushroom's eyes grew distant. "That's when the Wolf Lord revealed his true nature. Released his beasts upon the city..."
Mushroom's face grew grim as the memories surfaced. No need for embellishment here - the truth was horrific enough. The assembled crowd leaned closer, their faces pale in the tavern's dim light.
"The wolves..." His voice caught. "Gods, the wolves. They came through the unguarded gates like a flood of death. Not just any wolves - massive beasts with eyes that glowed in the dark. They tore through the streets unopposed, ripping apart any man fool enough to challenge them. The females..." He shuddered. "They took the women they found, mounting them like bitches in heat."
Mushroom took another long drink, his hands trembling slightly. "I watched from the Red Keep as the Wolf Lord led his sortie. The gold cloaks' spears glinted in the firelight as they charged through the streets. He was always visible - this dark figure surrounded by gold, that massive white beast loping beside him. Up Rhaenys's Hill they rode, toward the Dragon Pit where the fires still burned."
His voice dropped lower. "The streets ran red that night. From the smoking ruins of the Dragon Pit, he descended upon that mockery of a court - the whore king and his collection of thieves and painted ladies. When night fell, he returned to present his... gifts to our queen."
Mushroom's face twisted in disgust. "A hundred spears he brought before the Iron Throne, each topped with the head of an enemy. The Shepherd's head was there, along with his barefoot followers. The would-be king Trystane Truefyre and his squire - their helmed heads still wore those shocked expressions."
He paused, remembering the small figure brought in chains. "Little King Gaemon Palehair came last - barefoot and weeping. But contrary to the tales you might have heard, the Wolf Lord didn't gut him like a fish or mount him on a spike. The boy still lives, serving at court to this day. Though his mother and the rest of his 'court'..." Mushroom frowned, his brow furrowing. "Come to think of it, I never did learn what became of them..."
The dwarf shook his head, pushing aside the uncomfortable thought as he continued his tale, making a leap as to what happened.
"Ah yes, the dungeons." He took another long drink. "I remember now. The Wolf Lord had them dragged down there, kicking and screaming. The whore queen and her painted ladies, all of them thinking they'd soon see daylight again."
His voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "But they never came back up. Not as themselves anyway. Months passed, and then these... creatures started appearing in the halls. Naked as their nameday but wearing masks carved with faces frozen in eternal smiles. Their eyes..." He shuddered. "Where eyes should have been, there were only dark, empty sockets."
The tavern had grown deathly quiet. Even the usual sounds of cups hitting tables had ceased.
"They moved like shadows through the Red Keep, never speaking, never showing any sign they remembered who they once were. The Wolf Lord had done something to them down there in the black cells. Fed them potions that rotted their minds and souls until nothing remained but empty vessels for his will."
Mushroom's hands trembled as he lifted his cup again. "I've seen them perform tasks no human should be capable of. They don't eat, don't sleep, don't even seem to breathe sometimes. Just stand motionless in corners until given a command. And when they move..." He shook his head. "It's not natural. Like watching corpses dance on strings."
“And our daughters!” One man shouted from a corner of the tavern where the dwarf’s eyes could not catch sight. “What have they done with them? We have caught neither sight nor sound of many of our girls?”
Mushroom shifted on his stool, the wood creaking beneath him. He lifted his cup to his lips, using the moment to gather his thoughts. The crowd's questions about missing daughters hung heavy in the air, their anxious faces reflecting the dim tavern light.
"Ah yes," he said, lowering his cup. "The changes to our fair city. Many of you remember King's Landing before the Dance - a cramped, stinking mess of narrow streets and rickety buildings." He gestured broadly with his stubby arms. "But look at it now! The Dragon Pit gleams like a jewel at night, its restored dome catching moonlight where once there were only charred ruins."
He leaned forward, his voice taking on a conspiratorial tone. "And have you seen the gardens? Not just around the Red Keep, mind you, though those are spectacular enough. No, our queen had parks built throughout the city - little patches of green where children play and lovers meet."
Mushroom's face twisted into a knowing smirk. "But the most interesting addition floats right there in the Blackwater - that golden pleasure barge, three decks high and longer than any trading galley. They say the queen commissioned it herself, filled it with the finest whores from Lys and Myr." He waggled his eyebrows. "Though I hear the Wolf Lord visits often enough that the regular patrons must wait their turn."
His expression grew more serious as he continued. "The queen emptied the royal coffers, you know. Every loyal lord who stood with her during the Dance received some grand gift - new wings added to their castles, marble fountains for their courtyards, gilded statues of themselves." Mushroom shook his head. "Some whispered it was too much, but who would dare question her after everything that happened?"
Mushroom leaned back, his stubby fingers drumming against his empty cup. The crowd hung on his every word, their faces a mix of horror and fascination.
"Ah, but the pleasure barge, i must tell you more," he chortled darkly. "Now there was a sight to behold. A floating palace of debauchery that made the finest brothels in Lys look like peasant hovels. Three decks of solid oak, trimmed with gold leaf that caught the sun like dragon fire. The weight of it!" He threw up his hands. "Seven hells, it took twenty oarsmen just to keep it from listing to one side when the tide shifted."
He gestured for another ale, continuing as a serving girl filled his cup. "Our queen grew tired of the Red Keep's stuffy halls. Started holding court right there on the water, lounging on silk cushions while petitioners had to wobble across gangplanks just to reach her. Quite the sight - lords and ladies trying to maintain their dignity while the deck swayed beneath them."
His voice dropped lower, taking on a harder edge. "But there was trouble brewing beneath all that gilded splendor. You see, during the war, those Green bastards - begging your pardon for the language - pulled quite the trick. While dragons danced in the skies, the Lannisters slipped into the royal treasury like common thieves. Tore through the vaults, loaded up wagons with gold and scattered it across the Seven Kingdoms."
Mushroom took a long drink, wiping foam from his lips. "Oh, the queen recovered much of it once she took the throne. But there were still caches hidden away in remote keeps or stolen by opportunistic bandits. And our queen, she had grand plans that required grand amounts of gold. The Rogare Bank could only provide so much before they started asking uncomfortable questions."
His face twisted into a grimace. "That's when the Lyseni made their offer. You see, those flesh-peddlers are always hungry for fresh stock, especially the young and beautiful. They'd pay handsomely for such prizes."
A rumble of anger moved through the crowd. Mushroom held up his hands placatingly. "Now, now, don't get ahead of me. You think our queen would balk at such dealings? Ha! By then, she'd strayed so far from the Faith's teachings that the High Septon's opinions meant less to her than a street sweeper's."
"Why, when Alicent dared speak against her - just a small slight, mind you - Rhaenyra nearly had the old queen's tongue cut out right there in court. It was the White Worm, the beautiful mysaria, who suggested a more... profitable punishment. Sent Alicent and her ladies to work in one of her establishments until their bellies swelled with bastards."
Mushroom paused, his expression growing darker. "But the Wolf Lord... he had an even crueler proposition. There was this Lyseni merchant prince, you see, who'd taken a particular interest in the queen's youngest son - her legitimate one, mind you. The deal was simple: the boy for enough gold to fill the treasury twice over."
The tavern grew deathly quiet as Mushroom's words hung in the air, heavy with implication.
Mushroom watched as the room fell silent for a heartbeat. The tavern now seemed to hold its breath, and then someone spoke. "Is that what became of my sister?" His voice quaked with fury. "Sold to Lyseni scum for gold and the Queen's gaudy boat?"
"And what of my daughter, eh?" Another roared. A stout man pushed himself from his bench, his face red with drink rage. "She was taken at the dawn of this winter, her and three others from my alley. Never seen or heard from since." Others began to stand. Voices overlapped, spilling tales of missing wives, sisters and daughters.
"Friends," one called out to quell the growing temper. "Let's not be hasty! These are trying times I grant you, but surely there's no need for rash action—"
"And what would you have us do? Wait while more are taken?" Someone bellowed. The crowd surged, tables scraping against the floor. Mushroom's stool wobbled precariously under the force and soon it clattered to the ground while he landed safely. The same grizzled man shoved his way to the front. "We should march to the Red Keep. If the Queen sells our blood to the Lyseni then she's no Queen of Westeros."
Mushroom felt his bowels turn to water as the mob's fury grew. What had he done? His clever tongue had spun tales before, but this time he'd woven a noose for his own neck. The dwarf tried to make himself smaller - no mean feat given his already diminutive stature - as men pushed past him toward the door, their faces twisted with righteous anger.
"To the Red Keep!" The cry echoed through the tavern. "Justice for our daughters!"
He watched them stream out into the night, torches already being lit in the street. Mushroom waited for his chance to slip away, preferably through the back door and into one of the many hiding spots he'd cultivated over the years. But as the crowd thinned, his heart nearly stopped.
There, standing as still as statues, were rows of gold cloaks. Their armor gleamed in the tavern's dim light, the silk of their cloaks rippling like liquid gold. How long had they been there? Had they melted from the shadows, or had he been so caught up in his performance that he'd failed to notice fifty armed men?
"Now friends," Mushroom raised his hands, forcing a nervous laugh. "You know how these tavern tales go. A bit of truth, a dash of fancy... why, half of what I said was pure invention! The Wolf Lord would never... I mean, surely you understand..."
Captain Thorys stepped forward, his scarred face impossible to read. "Half lies, you say?" His voice was soft, dangerous. "Then pray tell us, little fool, which half was true? The part about the queen's debauchery? Or perhaps the business with the Lyseni slavers?"
The other gold cloaks began to spread out, cutting off any chance of escape. Mushroom's mind raced, searching for some way to talk himself out of this predicament. But for once, his legendary wit failed him.
"I... I merely repeated what others have said," he stammered. "You know how rumors spread in this city. Like wildfire, they are. Why, just the other day I heard..."
"Enough." Captain Thorys's hand fell to his sword hilt. "The king consort will want to hear these tales directly from your lips. And I suspect he'll be particularly interested in how you came by such... detailed knowledge of events in the Red Keep."
Mushroom gave a shaky smile, his heart pounding against his ribcage. "Would you look at the time?" He patted his nonexistent timepiece. "I think I hear mother calling me!"
With surprising agility for one of his stature, he darted between the legs of the nearest gold cloak, rolled under a table, and shot out through the tavern's kitchen door. Behind him, curses and the clatter of armored boots echoed through the narrow passage.
"After him!" Captain Thorys's voice boomed. "Don't let that little wretch escape!"
Mushroom's stubby legs pumped faster than they ever had before, his mind racing as fast as his feet. Me and my big mouth, he thought, ducking under a washerwoman's line of hanging sheets. The wet fabric slapped into the faces of his pursuers, buying him precious seconds.
He weaved through the twisted alleys of King's Landing like a rat in a maze, each turn bringing him closer to the docks. The thought of exile didn't seem so terrible now. Maybe someone in Yi-Ti, Lys, or Volantis would appreciate my art, he mused as he ran. The distant shores called to him like a lover's embrace, promising safety from wolf lords and angry gold cloaks.