Ser Willem paced the stone corridor outside his former Queen’s chambers, his boots making a dull, rhythmic thud against the floorboards.

The hour Skoll had appointed was drawing near. He had already dismissed the servants, ordering them to clear the hall and not return until he gave the command, leaving the hallway steeped in a heavy, anxious silence.

“Did she wake since I left?”

The voice came from the shadows beside him. Ser Willem did not jump, though his heart gave a hard thud against his ribs. He had been expecting the man, yet the arrival was as silent as the grave.

“She did, briefly.” Ser Willem nodded to the towering figure of Skoll, then cast a wary glance at the massive black wolf, Hati, before turning to open the heavy door.

Skoll wasted no time. He had already prepared the broth before arriving this time. He administered it to the woman with practiced ease, waiting only until she had swallowed it before digging into the pouch at his belt.

“Hold this,” Skoll commanded, thrusting a roll of parchment into the old knight’s hand.

“Open the scroll towards me and hold it steady,” The custodian added.

Willem unfurled the parchment. It was covered in a circle filled with intricate geometric shapes and glyphs he could not begin to comprehend. He turned the face of the scroll toward Skoll.

“What is this?” Willem asked, thinking of the shaped he had seen.

“This is a high-level diagnosis circle,” Skoll explained, though the words meant little to the knight.

Willem’s confusion only deepened a moment later. Skoll began to weave his hands through the air in front of Rhaella’s face.

As his fingers moved, the air shimmered, and lines of light began to bleed into existence, mimicking the patterns drawn on the parchment Willem held. The glowing runes spun slowly, casting a pale, eerie light over the Queen’s gaunt features.

“Does everyone know magic in Nightshade?” Ser Willem asked, his voice a whisper.

He had been taught by the septons to be wary of sorcery his entire life, to fear the witch and the warlock.

But standing here, watching a man weave light from nothing to save the woman he had sworn to protect, he could not find the will to object.

Skoll could have slaughtered them all with a single hand tied behind his back if he wished them harm. The fact that he was Ra’s brother, a man whose reputation was whispered with fear and awe across the Seven Kingdoms granted him a measure of trust Willem would not have given another.

“Everyone has the path open to them,” Skoll said with a noncommittal shrug.

Hati sat beside the bed, his red eyes fixed on Rhaella with an intensity that unsettled the knight. Willem looked at the beast and decided then and there that this was no ordinary wolf.

It had not made a sound, not a whine nor a pant, since they had met. There was a sharp, piercing intelligence in those red eyes that belonged to a man, not a beast. And the size of it.. the creature was as large as a warhorse.

“You can put the scroll down now,” Skoll said.

Willem folded the parchment with trembling hands and gave a stiff nod. The glowing patterns in front of Rhaella’s face had shifted, turning different colors, swirling like oil on water.

Hati, for the first time since Willem had encountered him, let out a low, vibrating growl that seemed gave Willem a sense of warning.

“You are not wrong there, pup,” Skoll murmured, as if the beast had spoken in a common tongue.

“Care to let me in on the conversation?” Ser Willem asked, a deep frown creasing his weathered face.

“I recommend you make preparations as soon as possible,” Skoll said, sweeping his hand to dispel the magic. The lights vanished into mist. “She will really need to reach Nightshade if you wish to cure her fully.”

“Why?” Willem asked. He wished the man was not wearing that helm; he needed to see the eyes behind the metal to judge the severity of her state from the man’s expression.

“Well…” Skoll muttered, hesitating for a heartbeat before sighing. “She is cursed.”

“Wh—” Willem started, his eyes widening in horror, but Skoll cut him off.

“I do not know the who or the why of it all. I just know that she is cursed, and the curse is a strong one. It has festered.” Skoll shook his head slowly.

Willem let out a long, ragged breath and collapsed into the chair by the bedside, burying his face in his rough hands.

Curses. Magic. It was a nightmare from the Age of Heroes come to haunt them in their exile.

“With your method… how long will it take for us to reach Nightshade?” Willem asked after a heavy silence, lifting his head.

“An instant,” Skoll replied with a casual shrug.

Willem gaped at him openly. To travel from Tyrosh to the mysterious Nightshade Island was a journey that should take two moons of hard sailing.

In an instant? Is this man a god? he thought, fear coiling in his gut. The stranger spoke of defying the laws of nature as if he were discussing the weather.

“I will meet you in front of this room in two hours. I have something to attend to for now,” Skoll said.

This time, there was no sudden darkness. Willem watched with his own eyes as Skoll and Hati stepped back into the corner of the room and simply melted into the shadows, becoming one with the gloom until they were gone.

The old knight stared at the empty corner for a long moment, then glanced back at his sleeping Queen. He steeled himself, straightened his tunic, and went to see the children.

He found them in the nursery. Viserys was sitting on the floor, watching over Daenerys. The little girl was playing house, arranging a set of chipped tea cups in front of her.

To Willem’s surprise, the boy prince was participating. When Daenerys handed him a cup filled with water, Viserys sipped it and acted as though it were the finest Arbor gold.

Ser Willem smiled sadly. For a moment, Viserys looked at ease, a boy of his own age rather than a one with the weight of the world on his shoulder.

“It is good to see you smiling, Your Grace,” Ser Willem said gently.

“I made some tea for you, Ser,” Daenerys chirped, beaming up at him. She carefully filled a cup with water from a pitcher and brought it over to the old knight, holding it with both tiny hands to ensure she didn’t spill a drop.

Willem chuckled as he took the cup and took a deliberate sip, and gave the little princess an approving nod.

“Exquisite, Little Princess,” he said.

Daenerys giggled and turned back to her dolls, serving them water with great ceremony.

Viserys stood up and approached the knight, his demeanor shifting instantly back to that of a prince in exile. “I have a feeling good days are ahead, Ser. I heard from a servant that Mother woke up again yesterday. It is the first time she has woken with such a short gap between.”

“That is what I wished to consult you about, Your Grace,” Ser Willem said, motioning for the boy to sit. He lowered himself onto a stool beside him. “I found the Black Wolf… or rather, he found me.”

“Did he?” Viserys asked, his violet eyes widening.

“Yes, Your Grace. He gave her some herbs yesterday. And again today.” Ser Willem nodded slowly.

“Why wasn’t I told of this sooner? I must thank him for this,” Viserys said, a frown touching his lips. He kept his voice low despite his dissatisfaction because he knew Ser Willem would have a good reason.

“Your Grace…” Ser Willem hesitated, choosing his words with care. “He is Ra’s brother. They share a similar stature and he has some… profound abilities. Forgive me, but I suspected they may have frightened you.”

Viserys looked annoyed for a moment, his jaw tightening, before he swallowed his anger with a deep breath. “What do you mean by abilities?” he asked, looking away from the knight to watch his sister play.

“He is accompanied by a black wolf the size of a warhorse, and he wields magic,” Ser Willem said plainly. “Even I was frightened when I saw him first.”

Viserys’s anger evaporated, replaced instantly by a sharp curiosity. “Can we trust magic, Ser?”

“We can trust Skoll, that is the name of the Black Wolf,” Ser Willem said, rubbing his bearded chin. “His remedies have shown results. And I suspect there is nothing we possess that may interest him… not even our lives.”

He spoke solemnly. Ser Willem was implying that even handing their heads to the Usurper Robert Baratheon would be beneath a man like Skoll. Viserys was sharp enough to understand the implication immediately.

“Why would he help us then?” Viserys asked.

Ser Willem looked away from the boy, not wishing to show the pity he felt. It saddened him to see how cynical his young King had become, how quickly he looked for the dagger in the dark.

Yet, on some level, it made him proud. The boy was not as naive as his years suggested.

“The coin, Your Grace. He says that so long as the Queen Mother holds that coin, she is under his protection,” Ser Willem answered. He suspected Skoll would have helped regardless, but the offer of sanctuary in Nightshade likely hinged on that token.

“How would a coin sway someone of his abilities?” Viserys muttered to himself, brow furrowed.

The coin may be a sign of authority in Nightshade, Viserys thought. The Conqueror was given the coin by the ruler of Nightshade, after all. Perhaps it commands fealty even here.

“He will be coming back in an hour or so… Would you wish to meet him?” Ser Willem asked.

Viserys looked at the old knight, his back straightening instinctively. “Yes,” he said, giving a sharp nod.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep