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Chapter Text

I

In the dark of the tunnels, something caught him by a leg. There was a jolt of sharp pain. He looked back and saw a pair of demonic eyes, shining jade-yellow from the darkness.

Shaggy screamed like a girl.

"Don't worry, Shaggs," calmed him Fred. "It's just a cat."

"Zoinks, Freddy, like, I thought it was a rat creature for sure." Shaggy's voice jingled with a laugh of near hysteria. "But why are there cats in Red Keep's secret tunnels anyway?"

"Well, because of rats, of course," explained Fred mindlessly while installing another one of his traps. "They used to hire people for the job, but then one of these ratcatchers called Cheese, together with a disgraced goldcloak called Blood, used one of the tunnels to assassinate Prince Jaehaerys. The boy was just a toddler, and they cut off his head right in front of his mother, Helaena, and two of his younger siblings. After that, King Aegon II, the boy's father, had all the ratcatchers of King's Landing hanged. His Hand, Otto Hightower, then bought hundred cats in their place. And it looks like they are doing quite well in here."

It was true, the cats were everywhere, moving like shadows in dark corners, hiding behind veils of spiderweb. Fred had to adjust the weights on his traps, so that they would not go off everytime a cat strolled by.

The gang was hired by Lord Eddard Stark to investigate a giant rat monster that terrorized the Red Keep.

It was appearing in the night, throughout the hallways, peeking out of privies, and once it was even seen in the private chambers of Lord Eddard's daughter Arya, in the Tower of the Hand. Sometimes it was giggling, and sometimes allegedly screaming out cryptic lines about moon and doom in a terrible animal voice. Lady Falyse Stokeworth had been fainting in horror for a solid month, after being repeatedly jumped by it from behind the corners.

Velma deduced that to move unnoticed, the monster must be using secret passages.

And in Red Keep, those were far from scarce. The castle's foundations had been laid by Aegon the Conqueror, but most of it was built by his son, Maegor the Cruel, a mad and paranoid man. It was said that after the construction was complete, he gathered all of the architects and masons that worked on it, and had them executed so that only he would know the Keep's secret.

Now, two hundred and fifty years after his death, this presented a perfect opportunity for lunatics in rat costumes to run riot inside of its walls.

Even more so, this was not the first time Scooby gang was in the Red Keep investigating monsters, so they knew some of the passageways from before. And Lord Baelish was so kind as to show them some others.

While Velma and Scooby patrolled the halls with the Kingsguard, Shaggy and Fred were booby-trapping the tunnels.

The shadows of their torches danced upon the red bricks of the walls. This was their third night. So far, they had only managed to trap seven of Lord Varys' birds, Thoros of Myr on his way to some brothel in the Flea Bottom, and one especially obese cat. No rat monster.

"What about a snack break, Freddy?" suggested Shaggy. His stomach started making noises that would alert the monster from miles away anyway.

Fred was right in the middle of some laborious pondering. "Hold on a bit, Shaggs, I think we have been at this crossroads already."

"Like, what do you mean? There is no mark. And I've been making marks, just as you asked me to."

"Right. But I think someone might be erasing them."

Shaggy's hair stood up. "Someone, like, a rat creature?"

"Let's not jump to conclusions..."

But Shaggy jumped. Both, to premature conclusions, and with fright. In his mad dash, he tripped over the tripwire of a trap, and found himself caught in a net of iron threads. All the while, he did not stop screaming, nor hating himself for the chicken he was.

"So, definitely, we have been here," observed Fred and hurried to save his friend.

Suddenly, Shaggy noticed something.

The floor he laid on was buried under the sediment of hundreds of years of filth. They could be even deep enough for Blackwater Rush to flood here from time to time... but no. It was only this spot. Everywhere else it was clear stone. Could it be?

He waited for Fred to free him, and then he went to check it out. Zoinks, he was right. It was a covered trap door.

"Good eye, Shaggy!" praised him Fred. In his eyes flashed a maniacal lust for adventure.

Shaggy gulped. Fred was so brave. Especially now, after they said goodbye to Daphne, he was throwing himself head-first against every danger that came in a way. Why couldn't he be more like him?

Fred opened the door. There was a bust of damp air and a ladder going down.

"Look, these spiderwebs are torn," he noticed. "Someone's using it."

Shaggy thought that that someone was probably the rat creature, but he did not say so. He wished he would not have even thought so.

Fred was already descending the ladder. Seven damn the boy. He inhaled sharply and set after him.

II

"Are you not supposed to be the finest mystery solvers west of the Narrow Sea?" mused Ser Jaime Lannister as they were patrolling around the White Sword Tower.

Velma bit her lip in frustration. All night, he had been delivering vicious jabs at her expense. She got it, alright, he did not want to be there, and thought their entire endeavor with the rat monster a trite, but did he really have to be so obnoxious about it? He was a sworn member of the Kingsguard and this was his job, no matter how trivial he found it.

And besides, Lord Stark thought the rat monster a serious threat. He suspected it might have something to do with the death of Jon Arryn. But she dared not mention Lord Stark in front of Jaime. There was a serious tension between the two.

"We are," she said instead. "You may remember our work from how we solved the mystery of the Drowned ghost lion of the Casterly Rock. We caught him, and unmasked as Lucaron Hill, the bastard son of Lord Roger Reyne of Castamere."

"I must have missed that one," he said.

Merciful Father! He was so insufferable. Fair, he was in King's Landing at the time, serving the King, but... well, had he just grinned? He walked by her side, all so golden-haired, handsome and arrogant. His pure white cloak making him all the more dreamy. She would have his children, had he asked her to.

He was widely known as the best swordsman since Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, and yet the realm largely looked down on him, calling him Kingslayer, an oathbreaker.

He laughed. "Of course I remember your work, My Lady. I was there when you caught the ghost of Bloody Infant Aegon Targaryen. But tell me, did your little company not have another fair maiden in place of that wretched raven at the time?"

Another jab! Daphne's departure was still an open wound.

They did not talk about it. They tried not to think of it.

From Castle Black, they rode straight to Eastwatch by the Sea, where Lord Commander Cotter Pyke lended them the Watch's fastest ship, the Petrel. The skies were clear and the waters calm, so they reached King's Landing in a something shy of three weeks. They did not speak much during the journey.

Shaggy was pale and distant, and even more jumpy than usual. She suspected that his experience with the weirwood must have left him traumatized. Fred spent all the time scribbling in his notebook, working on some prototype machine. And Scooby... well, Scooby was just Scooby Doo.

Jaime let her marinate in her desperation for a while more, and then he changed the subject. "So, what is your take on this our little mice problem?"

"You mean the rat creature?"

"What do you think?"

"Well, I think it's a werewolf. Except for the wolf part."

He looked at her like she was crazy. Then he looked at the sky, theatrically. The moon was a crescent.

"Yes, I know. But it keeps going on about the moon. And there are many legends of ancient moon worship from the King's Landing area, from before there was a city."

"That sounds like a pretty weak premise to me..." he started, but then, all of a sudden, he was cut short by a cascade of loud noises coming from the tower.

At first, Velma thought it might Scooby. The pup was notoriously clumsy, and always tripping over things. But no! After all, Scooby and Balerion the raven were patrolling the Maidenvault with Ser Barristan Selmy.

Could it be the rat creature at last?

They ran to investigate.

III

The ladder went on seemingly forever. At some point, Fred realized that he is descending into water, and the ladder still went on.

"I think we have reached Blackwater Rush, Shaggs," he announced.

"Like, that means we should turn back, huh?" suggested Shaggy.

But Fred would not be dissuaded so easily. "Let's give it a quick deep breath, alright? Someone is using these tunnels, and from what I heard, there was not any significant increase in water levels in last several weeks. I am not certain on the tide situation, but look, if we don't find anything, we can come back and test my prototype."

Zoinks, Fred and his prototype! Lately, he had been obsessed with it, and the sea life. During their voyage south, he repeatedly tried to persuade the captain to anchor down the ship, so he could lower himself down into water in an iron cage he made, to watch sharks. Prior to that, he fully intended to bathe himself in bloody fish pieces to lure them to himself. Luckily, the captain was a reasonable man, and refused.

Nevertheless, they went on down.

Fred had an emergency lantern, a jar full of strange green slime that shone in the dark if set on fire. It did not need air to burn, and could be kept in an airtight glass container. He purchased it from the Alchemists' Guild of the Street of the Sisters. It could keep alight for up to an hour.

The water was cold and clear. They both descended with their eyes open. Some little fish came schooling up around the lantern.

The bottom was not far.

And there, they saw it.

It was a door, or a gate, carved out of weirwood and ebony. The patterns of black and white intertwined in the labyrinths of complex spirals with no beginnings or ends. On the lintel, there were carvings of the phases of the moon, with the full moon in the middle. It was wide, as if built for carriages to pass through. But what carriages would ride this deep within the Aegon's Hill, and underwater?

Fred pushed on the door and it opened. On the other side, there was a staircase leading up. He did not hesitate, and swam in.

Shaggy had no choice, but follow him. He did not wanna stay alone in the dark. Luckily, he was a free-diving champion. He practiced holding his breath a lot by inhaling food.

The stairway led them to a large chamber out of the water. It was a cavern, really. There were two pools in it, the one they had just emerged from, and one under a strange, altar-like stone.

Shaggy felt a strange wind inside of his skull. Ever since the Children of the Forest and the three-eyed crow fed him that weirwood seed-paste, he was having strange hallucinations sometimes. And here it was again.

He saw something moving behind the altar. It was black as the dark beyond stars. It was slimy and malleable like some very viscuous mud, but he could feel its mind, so primitive, hungry and old, and knew it was alive.

Could it be an octopus? Or maybe a knot of sea hares?

No. He knew what it was. He had seen it once before. In the weirwood's vision from the dawn of time. It was the black monster with seven tongues, awfully long and blue, which it was using to suck the sap of the trees.

It lifted its horse-like head from behind the altar and hissed, whipping its tongues around the room like fireworks, spitting the venomous drops of saliva that was a mixture of red and blue.

Shaggy saw Fred unsheating his sword. Oh no, could he see it to? Was it not just a hallucination?

Then he looked again and instead of the black monster from billions years past, there stood the rat creature.

"Moon," it sang in a horrendous deep voice. "And other moon, silver twins dancing, fucking in the sky."

Shaggy screamed.

It was as big as a man, and stood on two legs. Its black hide was sticky with mud and river slime, and in the front of its mouth were four giant sharp teeth. "Then the she-moon gave birth to monsters, and those monsters would be our doom. Har har har." 

After that, it charged at them with murder in its lifeless eyes. Shaggy threw himself against the cold ground, and curled up into a ball like a panicked hedgehog.

The rat creature overran Fred, and disappeared into the pool behind their backs.

"Come on, Shaggs, it's getting away!" Fred cried.

But Shaggy could not stand up. He was on the ground, shaking with fear. The whites of his eyes were bloody red.

"Oh Shaggs," sighed Fred. He laid down by his side and embraced him brotherly. Shaggy was his best friend. Tenderly, from behind, he caressed his spasming belly until the tremors stopped.

Shaggy breathed out forcefully. "Like, thank you, Freddy. Let's go catch that creep!"

"Are you alright?"

"No. But, like, let's go!"

And so they went, and swam out of the hidden chamber. The creature was still there, climbing up the ladder. "One moon above our heads, one is buried underneath our feet," it laughed. "Don't look under my skirt, you creepy underground moon!"

It was getting away, but they were faster.

It reached the top of the ladder and closed the trap door in Fred's face, but had nothing to weight it up, so soon, they were back at its heels.

They chased it through the tunnels.

It ran along the paths they had not yet sprung their traps on. At crossroads, they split up, on another they came back in different order. Suddenly, the creature was behind them. They ran after it through a cellar with old skulls of Targaryen dragons. Through dark and narrow halls. Through a chamber with a dragon mosaic.

It tried to get out of the tunnels by a secret door, hidden behind the armor of Ser Darkrobin Darklyn, and then, finally, it got caught by a trap Fred had set up there.

Shaggy was right behind it, with a considerable momentum. He flew past the ensnared monster, right into the armor, knocking it down.

With a great racket it fell, taking with it also the armor of Ser Demon of Darry, which took Ser Ryam Redwyne, which took Ser Gyles Morrigen. One by one, all displayed armors of Kingsguard's past commanders fell down.

IV

Velma and Jaime walked into the main hall of the White Sword Tower, and found the rat monster trapped, all sets of armor down, and Shaggy hyperventilating down between them.

"We got it, hooray!" cheered Fred as he emerged from the hidden door.

"It must be a fierce warrior," observed Jamie. "If it fought all the legendary Lord Commanders down on their backs in the process."

"Or an amazing lay," growled the creature from the net.

"Well, we are sworn to chastity."

"But only till the death, My Lord."

"Well, I suppose so..."

Velma rolled her eyes. "Let's see who is under the mask," she said, and went on to untie the creature's face.

"So you caught it. Good." Lord Stark entered the tower, and with him also Ser Barristan, Scooby Doo and Balerion.

"Whe'vhe hearhd the noise," explained Scooby. "Rheggy, arhe you alrhight?" He hurried to lick his friend's face.

"Yes, Scooby Doo, thank you," said Shaggy.

Lord Stark's was good and just man, at least Velma had judged him so, harsh and unwavering like a mountain of granite facing the winter. His face did not betray many emotions, but not even he could fight the smile that lighted up his features on sight of Scooby's devotion.

"Unmask the creature, Miss Dinkley," he commanded.

Velma did so.

"Moon boy, the court jester!" she cried, together with Fred and Balerion.

"Oh no, you took my face!" cried Moon boy. "Now I am faceless, like a new moon. Har har."

Velma thought his pie-like real face looked rather like a full moon. Actually, she thought, that was why they called him Moon boy in the first place.

The boy was said to be simple in his head. It was in vain to expect him to state any relevant justification.

"Ser Barristan, Ser Jaime, take the boy to the dungeon," said Lord Stark.

"With all due respect, Lord Stark," protested Jaime. "But is that not a tad too extreme? The boy did not hurt anyone. If startling Lady Falyse was a criminal offense, we would soon be hanging Princess Myrcella's kitten."

"Princess Myrcella's kitten is not spooking the castle inhabitants on purpose, Ser Jaime."

Jaime laughed. "Lord Eddard, I understand, your ever so serious northern nature may not be allowing you to grasp the point of royal fools, but this sort of thing is exactly why we keep them."

Lord Eddard frowned. He had his suspicions, and reasons for fear, but he was not willing to discuss them with Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer.

"I am the Hand of the King," he said. "And I command you to take the boy into custody."

Jaime saluted him, but kept his contemptuous grin. "You take these things too serriously, I see. Is that your way of honoring the memory of your sister?"

Lord Stark did not react to that.

That jab caught Velma's attention. What had Jaime meant by that? Lord Eddard only had one sister, Lyanna Stark, also known as the Wolf Maid. She was promised to Robert Baratheon, but Prince Rhaegar Targaryen wanted her for himself. For her, Robert started his rebellion. For her, the Targaryen dynasty fell. What was her connection to all this?

"They remind you of her, don't they?" Jaime went on. "And her days of monster-hunting with Rhaegar, and Howland Reed, and that other girl... was it Melissa? Look, they even have the talking bird like they did, even if it is a raven, and not a parrot."

What in the seven hells? Yes, she knew they were not the first Mystery gang there was. They had heard of their predecessors' work, and were inspired by it. The Mystery of the flesh-eating ghouls of the Crypt of Winterfell? The Vampire elephants of Volantis? Jinkies, she grew up reading about their adventures. But she never would have thought that those kids were the crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, Lady Lyanna Stark, and Howland Reed, the Lord of Greywater Watch.

That put so many things into question! Among others, did Rhager really abducted Lyanna against her will?

Lord Stark started opening his mouth to say something, but...

"What is the meaning of this?" thundered a sleepy voice. "Ned?"

It was the King. Robert of House Baratheon in all of his might. He wore a set of linen pajamas, with a tall sleeping hat ornate with little antlers of plush.

"Your Grace," said Lord Eddard. "We caught the rat monster."

"Good!" bellowed the King, apparently only now noticing the Scooby gang. "Hello, Scooby Doo, so, who was the fucker?"

"It was the Moon boy," informed him Jaime.

"Moon boy? The jester? But why?"

"Har har har," laughed the fool in his net. "To pay my homage to the rats in King's cold bed."

Velma noticed that for a moment, Jaime's expression grew solemn.

The King, on the other hand, burst into a thunderous laughter.

"Release the boy, Ned," he said with a tear in his eye. "He is just doing his job, gods bless him."

Lord Stark went on to protest, but once again, Robert did not heed his advice.

After the King's command, Fred had no choice but cut the ropes.

The Moon boy fell to the ground with a loud thud, blew the dust off his furry costume, and went galloping away, singing a merry song about rats in the walls, and rats in dragons' ballsacks, which the King awarded with yet another burst of jolly laughter.

Lord Eddard gave them a pitiful look. After that, everyone went their own merry way.

"Well, that was disappointing," concluded Fred once the King, the Hand, and the knights were out of sight.

Shaggy was still pale as a ghost.

"Yeah," said Velma, but her thoughts kept wandering elsewhere.

Chapter Text

V

Shaggy dreamed.

He was in a strange city, with thousands of towers standing proud in golden twilight. The air smelled of sweaty bodies, sex, and elephant dung. It was warm and humid. Everywhere his eyes could see, there were people clad in ghoulish masks, of animals, half animals, skeletal demons and ghouls, of djinn, and terrible gods from afar. There was music, upbeat tunes of revel and enchantment. There was dancing and love in the streets. Young naked women riding beggars out in the open. There were elephants dressed as dragons and giant river turtles.

A group of brindled men passed him by, clad in nothing but wyvern skins across their backs. A fat crone with her skin painted golden, with a tiger on a leash. There was a young boy, no more than twelve, telling fortunes from a set of cards. He knew that the boy's name was Flim-Flam, and that Rhegg had paid him to tell the Heads of the parade to head for the Long Bridge. That was where they had laid their trap for the procession of vampire elephants.

Shaggy recognized that city. The Scooby gang had visited it once, when they were called to investigate the giant mosquito monster. It was Volantis, the First Daughter. The oldest and the proudest of the Free Cities behind the Narrow Sea. And it was Drēje hen Morghūlis, Day of the Dead.

Drēje hen Morghūlis was celebrated at the end of winter, when Mother Rhoyne grew in might from melting snows in the Hills of Norvos, and Andalos. People of the city dressed up as various winter demons, the Others, and marched through the streets to symbolically drown in the river in the morning.

Shaggy gulped. He had never seen the festival. The last winter ended when he was but a child. This must have been in the past.

"Howl," someone hissed at him from behind his back. "We are here." It was Lya.

She was dressed up as a wolf. Her face was hidden behind a carved wooden mask, and she wore a plain grey dress that fit tight to her slim figure. Both Howl and Shaggy thought she looked gorgeous.

Rhegg was with her, as always. He had a pair of dragon-like wings mounted on his back, made out of driftwood and cloth. He was supposed to be one of the legendary Winged men of the Mountains of the Morn.

"We got it," he said proudly, and showed Howl a jar full of strange black worms as big as pickles.

"We got it," he said proudly, and showed Howl a jar full of strange black worms as big as pickles. "Say hello to Sar Melli giant leeches. We bought these handsomes from Groha, an old woman who lives down by the bayou, and still practices the old ways of Mother Rhoyne."

"You mean a swamp hag," said Howl. He grew up in the swamps of the Neck and was therefore very familiar with the concept.

Rhegg nodded. "Basically."

"And why are these leeches relevant?"

This time, it was Lya who answered. "Because we think this is how they do it. The owners of the ghastly caravan tie up leeches to the tusks of their elephants. That is how they make it look like they drink blood. They buy them from Groha as well."

"So you know who they are?" asked Howl.

Lya started to tell him, but was interrupted by Mel and professor Pericles.

"We have a problem," said Mel as she rushed towards them.

Mel wore an ostentatious red dress, the same color as her hair, and had a red skull painted over her face, representing a ghoul of the Shadow.

Professor Pericles sat on her shoulder. He was a parrot, old and grey. He had an incredible mind. In cyvasse, no one had ever beat him. Now, he wore a little headband that made it seem like there was an arrow through his head. Combined with his little evil eyes, he looked proper funny.

"What's going on?" asked Lya.

"I have just seen Lord Steffon Baratheon and Lady Cassana ," said Mel.

"What?" cried Rhegg. "Where?"

"At the back of the parade. Lord Seffon wears a mask of a white hart with mighty antlers, and Lady Cassana wears a dress of leaves, like a Child of the Forest."

"My father must have sent them," said Rhegg, panicked. "To find me a bride with the blood of old Valyria, or something crazy like that. He does not know I am here. I told him I am visiting Old Town. They can't see us here!"

Lya sighed audibly.

"May I suggest murder as a possible solution?" offered Professor Pericles.

"No! We just need to divert them from our way somehow..."

"Did you say scam?" Flim-Flam appeared like some pre-pubescent phantom right by his side. His face was covered with tattooed patches, a mark of enslavement, but as far as they knew, the boy belonged to no one. He claimed to be the best scam artist west of Asshai.

"Yes Flim-Flam! Can you help us?"

"I can sing and dance, and juggle, and tell jokes and riddles. Yes, I can entertain them so they won't interrupt your plans. But what is in it for me?"

Rhegg handed him a golden dragon. The boy shook his head. "That will do handsomely. Pleasure to make a business with you, Dragon prince." Then he disappeared into the crowd.

"What now?" asked Howl.

"Now we go on with our plan," said Rhegg.

Suddenly, his face was pale and dead. His eyes red and small, and flowing like cracked eggs down his cheeks. He wore a dragon armor decorated with rubies. His chest was crushed by a blow of a massive warhammer.

Lya laid dying on the bed of blood, in a room that smelled of blood and roses. "Promise me Ned," she whispered. "Promise me."

Mel and professor Pericles stood tall and terrible, their shadows engulfing the world.

And there were monsters crawling out of the water, the very one that was supposed to drown them. Coming for him.

"Rhaggy! Whake up!"

Shaggy woke up screaming. His body leaped several feet into the air. "Monsters!" he cried, and went to hide under the bed, his body violently shaking.

"What arhe you talking abhout, Rhaggy?" said Scooby Doo. "There arhe no monsterhs."

"Like, are you sure Scoob?"

"Rheah!"

Shaggy crawled up from under the bed and reached to hug his friend. Then, for a few whiles, he desperately clung to him.

"What did you wake me up for?" he asked finally.

"Khing's sqhuire was here," explained Scooby. "He said that Khing is exhpecting us forh an audience overh brheafkast."

After those words, some blood returned to Shaggy's face. "Like, that is the best kind of an audience."

VI

The audience took place in the King's private chambers. The servants brought ten whole pheasants, and a jar of wine, and a jar of water to thin it down. Velma noticed that the second jar went completely ignored by King Robert.

Scooby attacked the pheasants with a wild ferocity. Shaggy looked pale, lacking in his usual appetite. Was he having nightmares again? She had to ask him about that later.

Fed was twittering something about his latest invention. He was trying to sell the King the possibility of a submarine warfare. "We could crush the Tyroshi fleet from below," he explained with a spark of wildfire in his eyes. The King seemed very interested and offered him funds from the royal treasury.

When they were finished, Velma grabbed at her chance. "Your Grace," she said. "Did you know that we were not the first gang of mystery solvers?"

She searched in his eyes for traces of anger or denial, but she found none. "Aye," he said. "There was another group. Four kids and a parrot, you might have heard of them."

Velma decided to push some more. "Did you know there was Lyanna Stark among them?"

This time in King Robert's eyes, there was fury and sorrow. "Aye. And that bastard Rhaegar Targaryen of all people. And Howland Reed. And some girl from Lys or whatnot. They went all around the Seven Kingdoms, and even beyond them, solving mysteries, just like you lot. But then they disbanded. When he crowned her a queen of love and beauty at the Tourney at Harrenhal, she was no longer speaking to him."

"What happened?" inquired Velma.

"They went investigating something in Shipbreaker Bay. Some sea monster, probably. It was some time after my parents died there. They set sail from the Storm's End in their Mystery ship, and when they returned a few days later, they would not look one another in the eye. I never learned why."

The King then took a chalice and drank a giant gulp of wine. Velma could imagine what was going on in his head. Lyanna Stark was his betrothed, but then Rhaegar, a boy with whom she used to be so close, took her for himself. He waged a war on Targaryens to get her back, he even killed Rhaegar at the Trident with a blow of his hammer, but the only thing he won in the end was the crown he never wanted.

"So, Frederick," he said with a kingly authority, indicating that this particular discussion was over. "How deep can that thing of yours go?"

VII

After the breakfast, Shaggy announced he is going back to bed. He looked very worn. Scooby went too, to hold a watch over him. Velma decided to spend the rest of day in the Red Keep's library. Balerion was out flying somewhere, probably munching on the eyes of hanged corpses over the city walls.

The mystery was over, and Fred had nowhere in particular to be. He played with the idea of setting some more traps in the secret passages, just to spite the damned fool, but ultimately he decided that he should rather go do some work on his prototype. After all, the King was interested and promised to fund his experiments.

He was walking through one of the courtyards, when he ran into Thoros of Myr and Jalabhar Xho.

Thoros was a red priest of questionable commitment. He was sent to King's Landing by the Red Temple in hopes of converting the late Mad King Aerys Targaryen to the faith of the Lord of Fire. Later, he became one of Robert's best drinking buddies, and chose to stay. He was a great fighter and a hopeless showman. He was notorious for setting his sword aflame during fights. That, and being the first one over the wall at Pyke during the Greyjoy's rebellion.

Jalabhar Xho was an exiled Prince from the Summer Isles. He was bald and dark of skin, and always wore extravagant cloaks of colorful feathers. He came to King's Landing several years ago, pleading before the Iron Throne for gold and swords, to help him reclaim his rightful seat at the Red Flower Vale. King Robert, the old soldiers as he was, always liked the idea of conquering Summer Isles. But such expedition was not cheap, so he always told Jalabhar he would get to it "next year."

Fred knew the two men from his previous visit to the capital. They were his friends.

"Fred!" shouted Thoros. "We were wondering if you would join us for a drink in the Flea Bottom tonight."

"Sorry guys," said Fred. "But I need to work on my prototype. The King promised me funding."

Prince Jalabhar made a sour face. "Pity," he said. "So, Thoros, once again it's just me, you, and our friend Boreo of Lorath."

It took a while until the gears in Fred's head started turning. "Wait a heartbeat, Jalabhar! Did you just say Boreo of Lorath? Like, that Boreo of Lorath? The legendary inventor of a diving suit?"

"The very same. He came to town just a week ago."

Inside, Fred started squealing as if he was riding a dragon. He could not believe his luck. This was truly a once in a lifetime opportunity! A chance to speak about his plans with the only person in the world who would understand.

"Count me in!" he said.

Chapter Text

VIII

She found him in the castle's godswood, sitting under the heart tree and reading The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms, With Descriptions of Many High Lords and Noble Ladies and Their Children by Grand Maester Malleon.

The godswood's heart tree was not a proper weirwood, just a mighty oak with carved face. Even despite that, she knew she would find him there. He was one of the few who still honored the old gods.

"Lord Stark," she called.

He lifted his eyes from the book, and closed it gently. "Miss Dinkley," he said. "I must apologize for yesterday. I understand you took quite a long journey to get here. And for such disappointing end, it seems."

"We came from the Wall..." she forced herself to stop. She wanted to tell him about Mance Rayder, and the army of wildlings and giants marching south. About strange things they have seen beyond the Wall. About Others. After all, he was the paramount of the North. But she couldn't. It was all too far-fetched, too unbelievable. But maybe, if she helped him to solve his mystery, if she proved herself, he would come to trust her.

Her grandmother used to say that in order to survive winter, people must trust each other. And Starks knew winter.

And so, one mystery at the time. "What are you reading?"

He showed her. It was hardly a book one would read for leisure.

"Jon Arryn was reading this," he said hesitantly. "Before his death."

A lot went went unspoken. She had a pretty solid guess what could Lord Arryn have been looking for in that book. Upon its pages, there were descriptions of several couplings between Lords of House Baratheon and Ladies of House Lannister. The offsprings were always listed as black of hair.

Could it be true what the bad tongues whispered all around the Kingdom? That Princes Joffrey and Tommen, and Princess Myrcella, with their hair the color of pure gold, were not Robert's at all, but rather unholy products of an incestuous union between Queen Cersei and her twin brother, Jaime Lannister.

"Jon Arryn was murdered," spoke Lord Eddard. "Lord Varys told me that he died of Tears of Lys."

Yes. That could be right. Tears of Lys was a powerful poison made by Lysene alchemysts. She heard it was produced by some fish that lived in the depths of Narrow Sea. It had no color, no odor, no taste. It ate away on the organs. Jon Arryn had died of stomach illness. But who could have given it to him? Lannisters? And could Lord Varys really be trusted?

"There was a boy. Hugh, Jon's squire. He was too young to be a knight, but it is said he desperately wanted to be one. He was knighted by Robert after Jon's death. I wanted to speak to him, but before I had a chance, he attended the tourney Robert threw in my honor, and was killed by Ser Gregor Clegane. He drew a lance through his neck."

"That Gregor Clegane? The Mountain that Rides? Tywin's Lannister mad dog?"

"Aye," said Lord Stark.

Jinkies! Could that be any more suspicious? But she had some additional suspicions of her own. She had just spent several hours in the library, researching ancient moon cults of the Blackwater Rush delta.

"Lord Stark, what did the boy Hugh choose for his heraldry?"

"The crescent moon," he answered.

She gasped. It was all coming together. Well, some of it at least.

"Lord Stark. I will help you to find the truth."

"Thank you, Miss Dinkley."

She bowed, and headed to her chambers to fetch her boy disguise. It was time to visit the Street of the Sisters to ask some questions about the Tears of Lys.

IX

"Mister Boreo, Ser, I am, like, your number one fan," mumbled Fred, utterly starstruck.

The old Lorathi looked like he had seen better days. He had a long grey beard that went all the way to his belly button. His hair grew in patches, but only on one side of his face. The other was mostly missing, even the eye-less eye socket was almost filled up with a cloth of wrinkled scar tissue. He said it was bit off by a swarm of wolf fish, and Fred thought Awesome!

He showered him with a cascade of questions. "What do you think of making not a diving suit, but rather a multi-person underwater carriage? This is how I would control its buoyancy!" He handed him a pile of papers he fished out of his pants. It detailed a system of bags tied to the ship, and a strangling mechanism to rid them of water. "What do you think? How would you insulate oar holes? What do you think of weirwood as a material?"

Fred did not miss that at the mention of weirwood, Jalabhar made a strange face. What was that about? But he did not let it stop him. He was very passionate about this project, he called it Mystery Wagon II. And so, he continued.

"How great is the risk of getting caught in the kelp? Do you have any experience with glass from Asshai? Could my brain really explode as I go up?"

He had other questions, concerning the dangers of krakens, leviathans and spotted whales, but Thoros cut him off.

"Let the good fellow breathe a little, Fred. He came to have himself a glass of ale, and maybe some sweet girl for the night, not to give a lecture."

"Sorry."

"It's no bother," said Boreo. He answered some of Fred's questions, but not really. He was more interested in young whores promenading themselves along the bar.

"You better stay away from the sea, you hear me, lad?" he said. "Or if you must, stick to its surface. There are terrible things in the deep, terrible. I lost half my face to a wolf fish, aye, but I lost half my soul to other things that dwell down there. Older things of the sunken worlds."

"Are you speaking of merlings?" asked Fred. "Are they real? Or squishers, or the deep ones?"

Old man kept staring at him with his one deep blue eye. "Stay away from the deep, boy. Heed my advice. Give your heart to the women of land, do not go seeking into the abyss."

Jalabhar patted him on the back. "Take it easy my friend. Tell us rather about all the things hookers are willing to do to a man in the Port of Ibben."

Fred did not particularly want to be hearing about that. He heard that Ibbenesse were probably a wholly different species of human, and that their children, if fathered by the men of the main land, always came out stillborn.

"Once I become the King of the Summer Isles, I will have some Ibbenesse women shipped into my personal harem," announced Jalabhar.

"What are you saying, you fool?" cried Thoros. "You will never return to Summer Isles, much less become their king. Robert will never finance your expedition."

"Maybe he will, maybe he won't," said Jalabhar. "The times are strange. And sometimes, dreams are the only currency worth holding onto."

With that, he called for another ale.

X

This time, Shaggy dreamed of the sea.

Of the mighty ships of the Grey King of old, built out of weirwood to sail the great Sunset Sea, to the strange lands that laid beyond.

Of the merling cities hidden beneath the waves, their strange inhabitants with the skins of spriralling white and black, sleeping in silence under the towering polyps of the same color. Of the terrible ancient monsters of the deep.

He was on board of a small ship with his friends.

"They are down there," he said. "Waiting among the roots."

"We need to destroy them," decided Mel.

Lya looked frightened. "If they truly are what I think they are, then I agree with Mel."

"No," said Rhegg, his beautiful face red with anger. "We must not! They too have their part to play in the Song of Ice and Fire."

Professor Pericles said nothing. Sitting atop Rhegg's shoulder, his eyes seemed darkly entertained. Then they turned straight towards Shaggy. "Come," he said.

He awoke not in his bed, but on some strange stairway in a dark. When his eyes adjusted a little, he recognized the place. It led down to the black cells. He tried to turn back, but his legs did not obey him. Instead, they led him deeper into the dungeon.

A monster leaped out on him from behind the corner. It gave out a terrible roar, as if straight out of nightmare. Its skin was oily and tenebrous, its many tongues long and horrible. To his surprise, he discovered he had a sword in his hand, so he slashed its neck and killed it.

By its side, he found a ring of keys. Zoinks. Like, was the monster even real, or did he just kill a gaoler?

He walked on down the corridor between the cells.

Black cells were the second deepest level of the Red Keep's dungeon. Their prisoners were the forgotten ones, in to rot for life.

At the very end of the hallway, his legs went still.

"Finally," shrieked a sinister voice from the dark of the cell. Shaggy thought he recognized it from somewhere.

He pushed a key into the lock and turned. The door opened. Inside, there was an old parrot. The time was not kind to him. His feathers were grey, and one of his eyes was covered with slimy green cataract. There could be no doubt about who it was. Clearly, it was him. Professor Pericles.

"And so it begins," he said. Then he flew out of his cell, up the hallway and the stairs, and out into the night, leaving Shaggy alone and shivering.

Later, he woke up in his bed. Could it have all been a dream? He hoped so. But, as always, the cold hand of fear did not let go of his heart.

Chapter Text

XI

Balerion flew over the city, and with curious interest watched all of it little movements. He never saw anything like it. It was spreading in all directions, like a reindeer lichen on a rock, only much bigger, and with people instead of mites.

It was bathing in the first rays of a morning sun coming off the Narrow Sea. There was a procession of goldcloaks, the city watch, patrolling the sleepy streets. One of them kicked some beggar lying in the mud and shouted something. The man opened his eyes and crawled out of sight.

A young blacksmith apprentice rushing for work, a scabby dog baying, asking for pets as he went past. The streets of King's Landing were covered in shit. Nothing was clean. They were dirty with little joys and sorrows, harshness and love. So many people in one place, Balerion could hear their dreams like screaming of a waterfall.

He was a raven raised by those who sing the song of earth. There was a piece of skinchanger soul clenched in his. He was bigger and smarter than other crows with whom he now shared his meals of soft eyes from the corpses of hanged thieves and highwaymen, or even those up north beyond the Wall. He could talk. Aye, he did not have the gift of the sight, but some things were so loud, even he could perceive them.

He never imagined there would be so many people in the world, save in one settlement. There were no cities north of the Wall. Not even in Thenn.

The King's Landing was founded by Aegon the Conqueror some three hundred years ago. He was a dragonlord who rode a giant black dragon, his namesake, Balerion the Black Dread. Velma showed him some dragon skulls that were stored in a hidden chamber under Red Keep. Balerion's was bigger than all the rest. It was bigger than most carriages.

He wondered whether he was worthy of such a grand name. After all, he was no dragon. He was no bigger than most dogs, and could not breathe fire. Velma chuckled and told him about four later-day Kings called Aegon. None of them was as grand the first one, and only Aegon V, also called Egg, was said to be a good King.

It was only a name.

Even Scooby Doo had his after Scooby Doo of old, a hound companion of Garth Greenhand - a legendary King from stories. Some said he was the High King of First Men who led them through Arm of Dorne into Westeros. Others said he was there even before that, wearing his crown of vines and flowers, laughing with the Children and giants, dying every autumn to be reborn come spring.

Most Kings of old claimed to be descended from him. Brandon of the Bloody Blade, Lann the Clever, Gilbert of the Vines... almost all legendary heroes of the Dawn age were said to be his sons. His firstborn was supposedly Garth the Gardener, a founder of House Gardener that used to rule in the Reach, before the Conqueror vanquished them with dragonfire, and replaced with House Tyrell.

Shaggy once told him that his grandma used to say that in truth, Gardener was actually a secondborn. The first was Roger the Shaggy, the ancestor of House Rogers, but he was omitted from all songs, because he was a coward. Shaggy did not believe her. Men of House Rogers were many things, vagabonds, scoundrels, pirates, whoremongers, even monsters, but never cowards.

Balerion thought that Shaggy needed to have his spirit lifted up somehow. He tried to cheer him up. He told jokes and made silly dances, but none of that was any help. What seemed to be working was food, and even that only in short temporary boosts. It was not making thing any better. Maybe even worse.

It was the dreams, he knew. It was not so unusual to have some eyes more than the ordinary two, but Shaggy had many many more. He always had green dreams, and now, since he drank the blood of the weirwood and was wedded to the trees, they kept becoming greener and greener. He did not stay among the roots, and chose not to replace his heart with the tree, but he wandered too far to ever return whole. 

Balerion did not envy him that trauma. But as a curious birdie, and he could not help but envy him the things he had seen. He was always fascinated by the histories of Men and Children. Even as a little chick, he could tell the difference between Forest clans and Nightrunners, and name all their chieftans four centuries back. And as he grew, he kept becoming smarter.

During their voyage south, Velma taught him to read. He dreamed of going to Citadel one day, and becoming a Maester. A link of black iron at least, he thought, should be a child's play. He was always good with the ladies.

Velma laughed when he told her about that. She said that he should try. That in this world, a raven stands a better chance of earning a Maester's chain than a woman. She was bitter, but her anger was not with him.

A new day dawned. The sun's warmth danced on his black feathers.

He saw Fred and Thoros of Myr, the red priest, both drunk as wheelbarrows. They were leaning against each other, all the while stumbling and laughing.

"Praised be the Lord of Light!" cried Thoros when the sun shone onto his face through a gap between houses.

Fred pointed at his illuminated red robes. "Daphne's hair was the same color!" Then he started weeping like a babe. "I miss her so much, Thoros. You can't even imagine. She ran away to have adventures, but what from? We were an adventuring party!"

His voice was shaky, his words like snowflakes in a storm. "I would have gone with her anywhere, had she ever asked. Even to the very heart of winter, to dwell among the Others in their palaces of ice. But she never did. Or what if I was wrong? What if she was asking me all the time, but I was just not listening? Maybe I was too busy making up new trap designs in my head to notice her. I loved her once, did you know that? Back when we were children in Lord Blake's castle. All the boys in town had hots for her, but I booby-trapped the way to her window, so that only I could come and play her songs. I thought of myself as Florian, and she was my Jonquil. I vowed to become a knight for her. I built a mechanized platform in the treetops where we would hide together. Look at the stars, make love. She was so wonderful, Thoros. The best I ever had. Her kisses were tender like the morning sun, and yet she was fierce. Hungry for flesh and all-consuming, like a fire. She could drain me whole and still keep going. The nights were too short for her. Perhaps not even the Long Night of legends would suffice. She would move her body against mine til the worlds turned into cinder. And what a body that was! I bet that not even the Maiden of the Seven has one like that."

Fred then realized what he was saying. His face turned red.

"She was blessed by the Lord of Light, that one" said Thoros and smiled.

And so he went on. "I was still building traps to keep other boys away from her. But they were growing more and more resourceful, and I had to lay traps more and more sophisticated to stay ahead of them. They never caught up. But I could not keep her away from them. And I could not keep up with her. I realized that maybe I did not want to be a knight after all. That what I really wanted to do was build things. Traps... and more. Together we realized that maybe we were not in love with each other, but rather that we were in love with the same things. Mysteries, mostly. The thrill of an adventure. And apparently, also women... And then we went out into the world, solving mysteries, catching monsters into my traps. We went far and wide, always together. And now she is gone, and yes, I kow, I still have the rest of our gang, Velma, Shaggy and Scooby, and now also my new pal Balerion the raven. But I fear that with her gone, the damage is done. And we saw things in the north, Thoros, things you would not believe. The white walkers. The living dead. They are real. Not just people in masks as always."

Thoros frowned. His religion taught of the Great Other. A terrible god of ice and darkness, an eternal adversary of the Lord of Light. He believed.

Fred's face was swollen and red, his tears shone in the morning sun. Out of his mouth, the words kept coming. "The Vampire of Moat Cailin. The cactus monster. The mosquito monster... All the monsters we have ever caught were just creeps in costumes. Even this rat bastard Moon boy. It used to be so simple. So simple. But it is no more! Now we will never stop wondering. The childhood is over, the golden age. Already, it is growing over our heads. Shaggy keeps having these bad dreams, and is always so scared, and probably should not be chasing monsters anymore. Or else his heart could explode, or something. He is wearing himself off, and I am so powerless help him. I am so sorry, Thoros, I'm such a mess. I am so scared. We are growing apart. And I think I have been preparing. And the others too. No one wants it, but here we are. We all feel it is coming. The end..." He fell on his knees, his breath shaking. He wept with an uncontrolled abandon.

"There there," said Thoros and patted him on the back. Balerion sighed. How could that one become a priest? He flew down to them.

"Hey Freddy," he said. "Freddy, it's me."

"Baley?" ask Fred amid the violent sobs. "I am so sorry, pal. I am so drunk."

"I know, Freddy, I know. It's alright."

Balerion had never been drunk himself. Firstly, he was still a little something shy of three years of age, and secondly, he believed the drink was a scourge of mankind. But he understood that people sometimes needed it. To mate, to clean up a smelly privy, to bury an old corpse, or to say the things they would not say otherwise. Sometimes, they needed to let things out. He hugged his friend with his wings, and waited. It needed to pass.

The sun ascended over the houses, and still Fred was crying. Some people passed them by, even a gang of armed street urchins, but they all knew better than to mess with someone guarded by Thoros of Myr, the flaming sword, and a large formidable raven.

Finally, Fred calmed down a little. He had no tears left in him. Now, he just sat there with empty eyes.

"Come Freddy," said Balerion gently. "It's time to go to sleep."

He nodded his head a little. Thoros helped him stand up.

"And when you wake up, you can go on working on your prototype."

After those words, Fred's eyes came a little alive. Slowly, they stumbled up towards Red Keep, and his chambers.

XII

With Fred safely tucked under the blankets, with a bucket by the side of his head for puke, Balerion went to fly around some more.

He went to check on Shaggy and Scooby. They were both sleeping, snoring so loudly that it could reduce some less structurally sound castles into rubble. He noticed that Shaggy's bare feet were covered in red dust. Was he sleepwalking into pantry again? His breathing was spasmodic and shallow, his face haggard and ashen. His eyes were closed, but Balerion could see that they were moving. He was something of an expert on eyes, aye aye aye. He wondered what was he dreaming about this time.

Once, beyond the Wall, among the weirwood roots with Lord Greenseer, Shaggy witnessed the birth of the Others unthinkable aeons ago. The trees grew them from their roots, in the likeness of men that they saw in the echoes of their future dreams. They were their defense against the terrible monsters from before the living things had shapes, that sucked them dry of their sap.

The blue blood that the Children later turned red.

Scooby's sleep appeared restless as well. Balerion knew enough about skinchangers to recognize the dog had a piece of Shaggy's soul clenched in his. But lately, Shaggy ventured too often too far, where even Scooby could not follow.

He left them to their dreams. What else was there to do? But he did so with a premonition of terrible things.

There was some ruckus down in the courtyard. He flew there to check out what was going on.

He learned that in the night, one of the gaolers from the black cells was murdered. His neck was slashed with a sword that they had found lying next to the body. One of the cells was opened.

Velma was already there, investigating.

She inspected the sword. It was old. On its blade, the blood was mixed up with rust. The hilt was plain, made out of steel coated in leather. There were spiderwebs full of dust around its cross-guard.

"I doubt we will get very far searching for an owner," she sighed. "He is probably long dead. Fred mentioned there were many old swords lying about in the tunnels, he even used some of them in his traps."

"You think our culprit got there via secret passage?" asked Balerion.

She shrugged. "Probably. No one has seen him. Or her. And they had to get out of the castle with the prisoner."

That was not much to go on. They could search the tunnels, but that seemed to be a fool's errand. "Have you found out who was held in that cell?"

"No. No one seems to remember. Apparently, it was occupied since the reign of the Mad King. Also, one of the gaolers told me they used to feed this mysterious inhabitant exclusively sunflower seeds."

"Sunflower seeds? That's strange."

"Yeah," she agreed. She looked unsettled. Balerion was sure that if even he could connect it with Jaime Lannister's mysterious remark from two days ago about a parrot, then she must have too. "We should check the records. If you want, you may accompany me to the library."

Yay. Was that even a question?

"You think there could be some connection between this, and the rat monster and the death of Jon Arryn?" he asked as he skipped by her side. He never flew in the hallways. His parents did not raise a hoodlum.

"I don't know," she yawned. "Probably."

She had a desk in the library with many books and scrolls, and a heap of disorganized notes. She must have spent there the entire night.

She was reading Treatise on Fishes of the Eastern Seas, Small and Medium-sized by Maester Miraz, and some monography on the heraldry of the Vale, currently opened on a page about House Egen. How was any of that relevant?

She helped him get a book about the history of Free Cities, and fell asleep in her chair before one could say Century of Blood.

He tried reading it for a few hours, but his thoughts kept wandering elsewhere. He decided to call it a day and go for a fly.

He went looking for Jalabhar Xho, to ask him about the culture of the Summer Isles, but could not find him anywhere.

Instead, he witnessed through a window, the crown Prince Joffrey Baratheon in some abandoned chambers torturing a kitten. He was holding the poor thing down with one hand, while with the other he was cutting off small pieces of its tail. The kitten kept screaming.

Balerion let out a surprised caw. The Prince turned his head towards him, startled. When he saw he was just a raven, he licked his lips and laughed a little. Then he proceeded with the cutting.

Balerion flew away as fast as he could. Every scream of the kitten felt like some terrible icicle of blood passing through his heart. He stumbled over his wings, and thought about throwing up the eyes. He made a few somersaults in the air, and landed on some windowsill, feeling sick to the stomach.

Suddenly, he heard a thunderous voice of King Robert. “Then let it be on my head, so long as it is done. I am not so blind that I cannot see the shadow of the axe when it is hanging over my own neck.”

“There is no axe,” said Lord Eddard. “Only the shadow of a shadow, twenty years removed... if it exists at all.”

Oh no. He must have inadvertently sidled up to a secret Small Council meeting. But as he was already there... he might as well. He looked around, but hidden on the narrow outer side of the splayed window, no one paid him any mind.

“You would bring us the whisperings of a traitor half a world away, my Lord. Perhaps Mormont is wrong. Perhaps he is lying.”

“Ser Jorah would not dare deceive me,” said Lord Varys. “Rely on it, my Lord. The princess is with child.”

They were talking about Daenerys Targaryen, the youngest child of the Mad King Aerys. She and her brother Viserys, the Beggar King, were living in exile in Essos. And now, she had apparently wedded a Dothraki khal.

Dothraki, or the horselords as they knew them in Free Cities, were people of the great grass sea in the far east. They lived for endless rides, war, pillage, and rape. If Princess had a son and he became a khal like his father, how long would it take before he remembers his claim for the throne of the western lands? Balerion imagined a Targaryen horselord, with his white hair tied into braids, and wild purple eyes, galloping at the head of terrible army, sweeping like a tidal wave across the land.

Robert was of the opinion that the child and the mother must be assassinated. Grand Maester Pycelle, and Lords Renly, Varys and Littlefinger wholeheartedly agreed.

Lord Stark was of a different opinion. “Robert, I ask you, what did we rise against Aerys Targaryen for, if not to put an end to the murder of children?”

“To put an end to Targaryens!” the King growled.

“Your Grace, I never knew you to fear Rhaegar. Have the years so unmanned you that you tremble at the shadow of an unborn child?”

Robert purpled. “No more, Ned,” he warned, pointing. “Not another word. Have you forgotten who is King here?”

“No, Your Grace,” Lord Stark replied. “Have you?”

The argument grew heated. Only Ser Barristan Selmy of the Kingsguard stood on Lord Eddard's side. The old knight was firmly against killing children.

“When you find yourself in bed with an ugly woman," said Lord Baelish. "The best thing to do is close your eyes and get on with it. Waiting won’t make the maid any prettier. Kiss her and be done with it.”

“Kiss her?” Ser Barristan repeated, aghast.

“A steel kiss,” said Littlefinger.

After that, it ceased to be the matter of if, and started to be the matter of how. Lord Renly suggested using Jorah Mormont, as the disgraced knight craved a royal pardon. But how could he kill the girl in the middle of Vaes Dothrak and still be able to enjoy his pardon one day, that was a different matter altogether. Pycelle suggested hiring a Faceless Man, but Littlefinger reminded him of how costly they were. Varys suggested Tears of Lys.

“I will not be part of murder, Robert. Do as you will, but do not ask me to fix my seal to it,” said Lord Eddard.

“You are the King’s Hand, Lord Stark. You will do as I command you, or I’ll find me a Hand who will.”

“I wish him every success.” He unfastened the heavy clasp that clutched at the folds of his cloak, the ornate silver hand. The badge of his office. He laid it on the table in front of the king. “I thought you a better man than this, Robert. I thought we had made a nobler king.”

“Out!” croaked the King, choking on his rage. His face was purple. “Out, damn you, I’m done with you. What are you waiting for? Go, run back to Winterfell. And make certain I never look on your face again, or I swear, I’ll have your head on a spike!”

Lord Eddard bowed, and turned on his heel without another word.

XIII

The evening found him atop the roof of Kitchen Keep. He sat there like a black gargoyle, overlooking the city. The sunset was the color of blood. Blackwater Rush in the west glittered in it like a river of rubies.

He wondered what would happen next. With Ned Stark gone, was there anyone left who would care if they solved Jon Arryn's murder? The King, perhaps, he liked Scooby Doo. And yet, as he felt the night gathering in, a strange anxiety was growing in his guts. As if something was going to happen. It was an ancient raven instinct, perhaps. The one that always drew them to battles, so that they could feast on the corpses.

Lord Stark visited the Scooby gang himself. He advised them to leave the capital. Aye, they were supposed to be the King's personal mystery solvers, but right now everyone knew they were Stark's people (and otherwise) through and through. 

Velma suggested they should sail for Dragonstone. She wanted to speak to Lord Stannis. Fred was all for it. On the island, he could start building his prototype. They were set to leave come morning.

"Looking at the Moon?" asked someone suddenly. Balerion almost fell from the roof. It was the Moon boy, nimble as a squirrel. This time, without the rat costume.

"What are you doing here?" cawed Balerion, startled.

"I can go as I please," said the fool. "I am a High Priest of a secret order of Ancient Truths. The truths so ancient that they would make you shit your pants, if you wore any. The truths that were already ancient when there were two moons in the sky."

"A High Priest, huh? Who elected you?"

Moon boy frowned. "It is a hereditary position. My father was a High Priest, like his mother before him, and her mother, and her grandfather hundreds of million times removed, when he was just a humble fish. But yes, right now I am the sole member."

"You grandfather was a fish? I am a raven. Did you come to recruit me?"

"No, you dummy," he laughed. "Your grandfather hundreds of million times and two removed was a fish as well. And also, probably not. I am not doing very good job of being the High Priest." He looked kinda sad about it.

"May I ask why do you think so?" cheered him up Balerion. "You said it is a secret order, and I have never heard of it."

Moon boy laughed bitterly. "There used to be two of us, Lord Raven. Me and Hugh. And Hugh wanted to get his Lord to join as well, but gods rejected him. And then Hugh went to eat worms after him. The Mountain crushed him."

"Wait," said Balerion. "Hugh? Hugh of the Vale? The squire of Jon Arryn? He was in your secret cult? What does it mean that gods rejected him?"

"They kissed him dead," laughed the boy. It reminded Balerion of what Lord Baelish had said earlier. "And poor Hugh got knighted. If I knew he really would be, I would have him have a proper ceremony. With a kiss, too. But he was just a mouse in fancy boots in the world of men. Like me. They did him dirty, I tell you. Mice do not make good knights. But suddenly, he thought himself too good for us. Well, me. And he went against Ser Gregor, good knight good night. Have you seen the size of that man? I wonder how big are the shits he takes..." 

Balerion tried to ask him more questions about the gods and their kisses, but Moon boy started singing a song about how the waves would claim Arbor, were Ser Gregor Clegane ever to take a shit in the sea, and he would not be bothered to answer.

The night fell. Moon boy howled at the sky, giggled like a girl, and disappeared through one of the windows.

Chapter Text

XIV

"All aboard, mateys?" shouted Fred from behind the rudder of Mystery Wagon II.

"Nooo," bellowed Scooby Doo. There was he, Fred - the captain, Velma, Balerion, and Matthos and Maric Seaworths, sons of Davos Seaworth, Lord Stannis' onion knight. Where was Shaggy?

"I am sorry, Scooby," said Velma and petted him between the ears. "Shaggy will not be joining us this time."

Scooby whined. His tail stopped wagging. He must be with the red woman again. 

Scooby did not like the red woman. She smelled funny. Like fire and ashes. Scooby loved barbecue as much as anyone, probably even slightly more, but it was not that kind of fire. It was the fire that burned, that consumed. The one that took one's friends away, screaming.

Lady Melisandre was a priestess of the red faith, just like Thoros of Myr. And yet, she could not be less alike the jovial drunkard of King Robert's court. She was tall, graceful and beautiful. The boys could not help looking at her with their mouths open. She had hair of auburn red, and eyes the color of fresh blood. Just like the Vampire of Moat Cailin. They shone with fire, magic, and mysteries beyond the world of flesh. She wore her red robes cut low, to show the pale skin and full shapes of her breasts.

Scooby had a strange feeling about her. Her face felt familiar. Could he have seen her somewhere before? In Volantis? A half-forgotten dream? And not only her... also Lord Stannis' court fool, Patchface.

Shaggy had first reacted to her with dread. As if it was a monster he was seeing. But then he began visiting her in her chambers, when she called. They spoke of dreams. And they dreamed together.

Without Scooby Doo.

They arrived on Dragonstone a day after Jaime Lannister ambushed Lord Stark in front of the brothel on the Street of Silk. It was a retribution for his brother Tyrion being abducted by Lord Stark's wife Catelyn, who suspected the dwarf of having a part in the assassination attempt on their son.

These were uncertain times to stay in the capital.

Lord Stannis Baratheon, the King's younger brother, paid them a warm welcome. Well, as warm he was capable of, which was not much really. Stannis was about as emocional as a piece of dried mammoth bone clenched in ice. But the Scooby gang knew him for a just and honorable man, and he remembered them from their investigation of the ghost of Daemion Targaryen and the pirate Bloody Rogers' hidden treasure in the lair of dragon Cannibal.

Scooby did not like dragons. He was glad they were extinct.

Stannis was a Prince of Dragonstone. An heir to the Iron Throne, right after Robert's children. If it ever turned out that they were truly illegitimate, he would be the crown Prince.

There was an air of anticipation hanging over the island. Velma heard that in King's Landing, King Robert was on his deathbed. He had been gored by a monstrous boar while hunting in the kingswood.

Ravens were flying in and out, carrying correspondence with Lords all over Seven Kingdoms. Carpenters were building ships. All forges were bright alight. Quietly, Dragonstone was preparing for war.

Maybe that was why Lord Stannis was so eager to finance Fred's crazy project of submersible ship.

"That is all hands aboard," announced Fred, grinning like a madman. "I am closing the hatch." He pushed some button. Then another. The mechanism clicked. "We're going down."

It was already tested. Fred and Seaworth brothers had circled around the island in it, and went as far down as twenty feet. The Mystery Wagon II seemed to be working.

Now it was ready to go explore the deep.

XV

They descended into darkness, but Fred had his alchemical green slime lights at the ready.

Through their window of Asshai glass, they saw fish of undreamt shapes and sizes, floating like birds on dark and viscous skies. Some steered away from them, as if they thought them some strange new predator. Others, more and more the deeper they went, were rather attracted to their shiny lights.

A shadow of great hammerhead shark appeared in front of them. It was almost as big as their entire ship. Scooby felt a stab of cold fear. He expected to hear that old good Zoinks that would have assured him he wasn't the only one scared, but it would not come. Matthos and Maric behind the ship's oars made them pass steadily around the beast. It did not mind. In the dark realm of leviathans and krakens, one would surely not get far by bothering bigger fish.

"Fred, do you see that one?" Velma pointed out a weird looking fish with head the shape of a horn of a wild auroch.

"I do, Velms. A pretty freaky one."

It was a black woodpeckerfish, so called for its awfully long tongue that it held, at most times, tangled around its skull. It was the very species alchemists used to make Tears of Lys. She could not believe her luck. It was quite elusive. Dead specimen sometimes turned in the deepwater nets of Lysene fishermen, but as far as she knew, a living one had never been observed.

"I wish to examine it."

"What?"

"I mean, can you trap it for me?"

Fred grinned. "Sure thing."

He adjusted some levers, pushed a button. A spring sprang, and a net got ejected from the ship, closing around the fish. Then another mechanism came into play and slowly pulled it back in.

He gave her a smug smile. She returned a kiss on his cheek. "Thanks, Freddy, you are the best." He might have been a genius, but he was always so innocent and dumb about it.

There were manta rays gliding around them like bats in the night. Jellyfish and eels, swarms of hagfish and squids.

Then Mystery Wagon II entered a strange forest of towering polyps, outstretching their branch-like tentacles towards the surface, towards the sky. They looked so majestic, so ancient. Like a world lost. A godswood of a King of a forgotten kingdom, sunken beneath the waves. Wait, was it leaves on them?

For a short moment, Scooby thought he was seeing something strange. Something passed among the polyps. He barked to alert the others.

"What is it, Scooby?" asked Velma.

"A man! Therhe was a man!" he whined.

Fred raised his eyebrow. "A man? This deep under the sea?"

"I think I saw it too," said Maric Seaworth in a weak voice.

"By the Warrior, brother," cried Matthos. "Are you so unmanned by the deep that you immediately hallucinate of merlings?"

"It was no merling," defended himself Maric. "It had legs."

Fred was of a mind to suggest that it could have been a squisher, or perhaps a deep one, and behind the mask, probably someone in one of Boreo's diving suits. But before he could finish his thought, something rammed into their side with a great force, and sent them tumbling into a dark void.

XVI

"Hold onto something!"

"Frhed, do something!"

Their cabin was rolling, with them flying all around like ragdolls. Balerion hit the wall and broke a wing. Velma was bleeding. Matthos was unconscious.

Scooby looked out of the window.

It was a monster. A giant kraken of pale flesh, ornate with black spiralling patterns reminiscent of tattoos. Its tentacles were strangely stiff, even though they moved. It charged at them again.

The side of their submarine caved in. Fred did not build it out of weirwood after all, but of steel.

Scooby screamed, and tried to hide under Velma's legs. He covered his eyes with his paws, and shivering thought of Shaggy.

Fred, the captain, never lost control. He stood there, behind a rudder, firm as an old tree, and began barking orders. "Scoob, take Matthos' place at the oars. We have to be ready to move. Velms, if something happens to me, big red button takes us to the surface."

"Aye, captain!" saluted Scooby.

He then made some magic with his pulleys and pushies, and made a giant net explode right into kraken's face.

It slowed it down, but still it gave chase. Another button buried it in a cloud of thick liquid.

"What is that?" asked Velma.

"A wildfire," he explained. "Paddle up! Now!"

Scooby and Matthos put their backs to it as they never had before. Behind his console, Fred gave a maniacal cry. Somehow he managed to produce a spark. Then he pushed the red button.

There was an explosion of green light. Wildfire could burn even underwater. Luckily, they got away quick enough. Scooby noticed that kraken managed to escape as well, backing up into another direction, but not without losing some of its tentacles.

In a manner of heartbeats, they reached the surface. They were about two miles offshore. The wind blew towards Dragonstone, so Fred raised a sail.

Once back on the beach, Scooby kissed the dry land like it was his own mother Doo. Then more. Like a floppy-eared bitch of the streets of Maidenpool with whom he had once sired a litter of puppies. Passionately. Fierce.

"Well," concluded Fred. "Tomorrow at the same time?"

Chapter Text

XVII

"... dance, my lord, dance my lord,” sang Patches the Fool. “The shadows come to stay, my lord, stay my lord, stay my lord.”

His was the only voice sounding over the Great Hall of Dragonstone during the feast. Stannis' court was always stern and dignified, just like the man himself. Well, with a current exception of Shaggy and Scooby, loudly stuffing themselves full of food.

Stannis Baratheon watched them with a poorly hidden disgust. Once during Robert's war with Targaryens, he had spent a year holding a besieged Storm's End. He and his men were forced to eat all their horses, dogs and cats, until there was nothing but rats and roots, all the while Lords Tyrell and Redwyne under their walls feasted on exquisite dishes. Had Shaggy not been so close with Lady Melisandre, he would probably have them both hanged for gluttony.

Fred was engaged in an enthusiastic conversation with Salladhor Saan, a selft-styled Prince of the Narrow Sea.

"A tattooed kraken, you say?" awed the Lysene corsair. "I have never seen such a wonder. Most of them are pale pink as flesh of maidens from the north."

Velma was stuck chaperoning Balerion with his newest lovebird, a white raven that was sent to announce the ending of summer. At last.

White ravens were the Citadel's finest stock. This one was almost as big as Balerion, and she knew maybe a hundred words. She and her sweetheart were currently pecking in a bowl of smoked sprats.

Good for him, she thought. Balerion had a rough time lately, because of his heavily bandaged broken wing. He missed flying. It was good he found some other spell to occupy his mind.

Velma decided to name her Winter, for she was an omen of coming hard times. And far from the only one. For a past few days, the skies were alit by a red comet. It dyed days a bloody hue. Some saw it as a herald of a coming war. People dreamed of dragons. The Realm was in a state of disarray. Robert Baratheon was dead, and so was Ned Stark, beheaded for a supposed treason. On the Iron Throne sat Joffrey Baratheon, claimed by many to be a bastard, born out of an abomination, a union between Queen Cersei and her twin brother Jaime Lannister. The North was in an open rebellion. Robb Stark, the Young Wolf, proclaimed himself the King in the North - a title not used since the time of the Conqueror. The red woman claimed that in her flames, she saw Stannis' victory.

Velma did not think that very likely. The numbers were firmly against. Stannis simply didn't have enough men to stand against Lannisters, not without allying himself with the North, which he kept so stubbornly refusing. There were not many willing to support his claim. A man who never laughed was not a man to be trusted. Even the lords of the Stormlands, his subjects by Baratheon birthright, rather rallied themselves behind his younger brother, Renly. Together with Tyrells of Highgarden.

Patchface sang his song about shadows. He was a drooling, short and obese man, with colorful patches tattooed on his face. He wore a tin bucket as a hat, ornate with a rack of antlers hung with cowbells. Velma had always hated jesters. Especially after the gang's run in with Moon boy. But she never hated any as much as Patchface.

He was brought from Volantis twenty-one years ago by Lord Steffon and Lady Cassana. They had found him on the street, and were impressed by the tricks he knew. He was a boy full of life, nimble and clever. By his tattoos, a runaway slave. He could pick locks, do card tricks, and imitate voices to an almost perfection. They wrote about him in their letters to their sons. They hoped he would teach Stannis how to laugh.

On their way back, there was a storm in the Shipbreaker Bay. From the windows of their rooms, Robert and Stannis saw how the ship broke against the rocks. For several days, the tides kept returning bloated corpses onto beaches.

They had found Patchface on the third day. They lifted him up to put him on the cart with the others, but then he sat up. No one knew how he could survive so long in the sea. Some of the smallfolk believed he was saved by mermaids.

Whatever it was, the boy was never the same afterwards. He had lost his wit. He kept going on about the vast forests on the bottom of the sea. Of the splendid tourneys of crab knights in shiny carapaces. Of the grand black fish kings with their mouth full of eels, feasting with the Others of the deep.

What was he... Jinkies! Did he really just crash into Maester Cressen?

Some dining guests burst into laughter. Maester was just coming to join the feast. He was so old and frail, and was struggling to stand back up.

Fred leaped up to help him, but before he got there, Maester was lifted up by Lady Melisandre.

“Maester," she said. “You ought take more care.”

“I... thank you, my lady.”

“A man your age must look to where he steps. The night is dark and full of terrors.”

That was a saying of the red faith. A prayer of sorts.

“Only children fear the dark,” he spat at her. He hated the red woman, and the influence she had over Stannis.

"There is always night under the sea," said Patchface. "And even fish carry lanterns, I know, I know, oh, oh, oh." Then he continued his song. "The shadows come to dance, my lord, dance my lord, dance my lord.” 

“Now here is a riddle,” Melisandre said. “A clever fool and a foolish wise man.” Bending, she picked up Patchface’s helm from where it had fallen and set it on Cressen’s head. The cowbells rang softly as the tin bucket slid down over his ears. “A crown to match your chain, Lord Maester.”

There was laughter. Cressen went to sit by Lord Davos. His usual place by Stannis' hand was now occupied by Maester Pylos, a younger man Citadel sent a year ago to take his place. Cressen was well over eighty.

“Lord Stannis,” he said.

“King Stannis," corrected him Lady Selyse, Stannis' wife. "You forget yourself, Maester.”

“He is old, his mind wanders,” growled Stannis. “What is it, Cressen? Speak your mind.”

“As you intend to sail, it is vital that you make common cause with Lord Stark and Lady Arryn...”

“I make common cause with no one,” Stannis Baratheon said.

“No more than light makes common cause with darkness.” Lady Selyse took his hand.

Stannis nodded. “The Starks seek to steal half my kingdom, even as the Lannisters have stolen my throne and my own sweet brother the swords and service and strongholds that are mine by rights. They are all usurpers, and they are all my enemies.”

Maester went on saying the things that Velma thought as well, that he cannot hope to triumph without any allies. Lady Salyse replied that he had an ally, R’hllor, the Lord of Light, the Heart of Fire, the God of Flame and Shadow. Cressen laughed, and for that, Selyse commanded him to put on Patchface's crown again.

Stannis frowned. He had not believed in any gods ever since he saw his parent's ship sink mere miles from the shore. What god would allow such a thing to happen? And after that, Cressen raised him like his own son. This was getting too far.

Cressen then stood up, a cup in his hand. “Mayhaps I have been a fool. Lady Melisandre, will you share a cup of wine with me? A cup in honor of your god, your Lord of Light? A cup to toast his power?”

The red woman studied him. “If you wish.”

She met him beneath the high table with every man’s eyes upon them. But Cressen saw only her. Red silk, red eyes, the ruby red at her throat, red lips curled in a faint smile as she put her hand atop his own, around the cup. Her skin felt hot, feverish. “It is not too late to spill the wine, Maester.”

“No,” he whispered hoarsely. “No.”

And they drank from the same cup, old Maester, stiff and bent by the years in servise, and a shadowbinder of Asshai, seeing eye to eye and speaking some whispers to one another.

Then he started coughig in a terrible thin whistle, and his face turned purple.

"A strangler!" cried Velma. "There was a poison in the cup."

But Melisandre stood tall, the ruby on her neck shimmered with red light.

Maester Cressen fell on his knees, shaking his head. Denying her, denying her power, denying her magic, denying her god. And the cowbells peeled in his antlers, singing fool, fool, fool while the red woman looked down on him in pity, the candle flames dancing in her red red eyes.

XVIII

Velma walked briskly through the corridors of Dragonstone.

It was a Valyrian castle, built in ways now lost to time. Its towers were shaped like dragons. Atop its walls, there were twisted gargoyles beyond counting, crocodiles and wyverns, people with animal heads, heads with animal bodies. And various others. She recognized some of those monsters. Naturally, she was something like an expert. Scooby gang even tackled some of them, the mosquito people of Volantis, centaurs, vampires... Of course, all of them turned out to be just people in masks.

But now, as she passed by them by in the windows, set against the red skies lit by the comet, she wondered if at some time long ago, could they not have been real after all.

Marwyn the Mage, Citadel's Archmaester of Higher Mysteries, often spoke of the times when magic was a powerful force in the world. When it truly moved the earth, stars, and waters. The ages of wonders. And after the things she had seen beyond the Wall, she believed.

Could be such times coming again, heralded by the bleeding star? She would sell her heart for a chance to speak with Marwyn. But first, there were some mysteries to solve.

She didn't bother with knocking. "How did you do it?"

Melisandre stood there naked, with only her choker with the ruby around her neck. Her body was unnaturally beautiful. Velma blushed. She recalled Daphne as she was that one time in the Stepstones. Oh Daphne... she wondered what she was doing now. If she was alive, that was.

"How did I do what?"

She showed no intention of covering herself, so Velma decided to put off her glasses.

"How did you survive drinking strangler? As far as I know, there is no antidote."

It was a poison made from a certain plant that grew only on the islands of the Jade Sea, half a world away. The process of its making was long, difficult and costly. It required certain rare spices from the Summer Isles, and some expertly techniques of crystallization. It was very popular among assassins, because the way it killed its victims looked very similar to choking on food or drink. That would be a more likely explanation in Maester Cressen's case, but she clearly saw him slipping a purple crystal into the drink.

"It was a gift given to me by a Lord of Light."

"No," said Velma. "I am not a fool for you to impress with your religion. There is a trick and I need to know it."

Melisandre laughed. It was like flames dancing, throwing vile shadows over the wall. The wall of ice that separated the world of sane from the world of insane. Of magic, of dreams. Velma now saw her body even without her glasses. Every inch of her milkwhite skin, her copper hair falling over her shoulders, her nipples, raised like horns of some bloodred snail, aroused by the magic in the sky. "Yes," she said. "Yes, child, there are such tricks. The tricks of thieves and beggars, unknown to Citadel. Hidden ways of love, hidden ways of pain. Hidden herbs. And others. For example, you can survive Tears of Lys by having a sip of the shade of the evening beforehand..."

"What?" whispered Velma. "Really?" In her head, a piece of puzzle just fell into place.

Melisandre made a strange face. "Yes. But for this I did not need any cheap tricks." She conjured a little tongue of flames between her fingers. "The fire cleanses everything. And the Lord of Light provides."

XIX

Melisandre walked up onto her balcony. The red comet was cutting through the sky like a flaming sword of Azor Ahai, the Prince that was promised.

Velma had fled, uncomfortable with her nakedness and magic. Pity! She liked the girl. She was just like her when she was young. Smart, curious, yet oh so insecure. Lucky she had grown out of it.

She let the wind caress her bare skin. It was rough like all the best lovers, but not cold, never cold. Not since she had her god's fire burning within her. She was telling the truth. It was him who burned the poison the old fool gave her in the wine.

She came a long way from the girl she used to be. But these kids, this Mystery gang, they were awakening all the old ghosts. How could they be so much like them?

So much alike, and yet so different. They were solving mysteries for much longer than the old gang ever had been. Rhegg, Lya and Howl were all children of major houses. They had duties. All of their adventures had to be behind their parents' backs.

She thought of Rhegg, her perfect dragon prince. She wondered what would he think of what she had become. He was the one who put them all together. His soul was the one of a scholar, yet he always knew he had to walk a path of a warrior instead. He was searching for something. Monsters. Magic. A hidden Song of Ice and Fire. Secrets buried in the hearts of flame and winter. And in the eternal night of the ocean floor.

He was her first, as she was his. They were so young back then.

It was on their third ever case. They were investigating a ghastly were-shadowcat of the kingswood, that ultimately proved out to be a costumed Smiling Knight of the Kingswood Brotherhood of outlaws. One time, it chased her and Rhegg off a cliff into a river, separating the group. They spent the night together, alone under the stars. Their clothes were so wet and cold. They made fire, and he played her a song on his lute, of the Prince of Dragonflies and Jenny of Oldstones. His voice was so sad and sweet that it made the crackling timbers of their fire and crickets of the night sing it with him. The rest of the night they spent like a man a woman. She felt the fire of his seed in her belly, and dreamed of how it might grow into a dragon. It never had.

She loved him then. But she knew she could never be his queen. His father was not Aegon V who allowed his son to marry Jenny, and even then it brought up a war. She was no Lady, just Mel. Melony, daughter of a whore from the winter town.

It took years for hear to catch the news of his death. She was in Asshai at the time, learning dark secrets from the wise of the corpse city. He fell for Lya, she heard. Abducted her and tried to make her his wife in the eyes of old gods and new. Foolish. It was years after the gang split up. He must have seen in her the old times. Their mystery-solving days. Perhaps she even reminded him of her.

The wind out of the Narrow Sea played with her hair. She always liked that in a wind, it looked like glimmering fire. It was all a wind now. Both Rhaegar and Lyanna were dead, and she had given her life to R'hllor. Now perhaps she could bore Rhaegar a dragon, woven out of shadows of her womb. If only he was still alive. But no. She was foolish. Mad just like Flim-Flam was now. The Patchface. The fool.

It was their last case. They heard of the fool that survived a shipwreck in the Shipbreaker Bay, three full days in the cold sea. They heard his face was covered in patches, and that there were sayings among the smallfolk that he was kissed by a mermaid in exchange for his seed and his mind. They knew it must have been Flim-Flam, the boy they knew from Volantis, and whom they sent to entertain Lord Steffon and Lady Cassana. They wanted to investigate what exactly it was that happened to him.

Rhegg rented a boat. And Howl was a master diver. He knew special crannogmen breathing techniques used for hunting deepwater crayfish, so they sent him down into the deep.

She wondered what had become of Howl. Sometimes, she saw glimpses of him in the dreams of the one they called Shaggy.

The dreams. The Other dreams. The dreams of wood. The dreams of green. He drank the blood of the weirwood, and was now wedded to the trees. Like a shade of the evening junkie. But the Westerosi trees brought stronger visions than the black trees of the east. Their blood was the blood of men of old, the Children of the Forest, rather than that of black monsters from the unspeakable aeons ago. He saw so far. Only the dried mummies buried among the roots saw further. Perhaps not even those.

She saw him amid the weirwood grove, at the Island of Faces, in the middle of a great lake called Godseye. He was surrounded by short silent men with antlers and their faces painted green. Could he have seen the things Shaggy had seen?

And what about Professor Pericles, Howl's psychotic parrot? The two had similar link like Shaggy and his dog, Scooby Doo. The last she had seen of him was when they were arguing about the thing they had found at the bottom of Shipbreaker Bay. The thing that sent each of them their separate way, trying to make sense of that terrible knowledge. She wanted to destroy it. Rhegg and Howl wanted to understand it. And Pericles, he wanted to use it. For the world domination, or whatnot. He often spoke of such things.

The new kids were on the verge of the same discovery. With their submarine and all. She wondered what it might do to them. Of course, they already knew there were real monsters in the world, they saw them beyond the Wall. The knowledge was pushing them apart, as it once had done with them. Was the secret that awaited in the deep really that much worse than what Shaggy saw nightly in his dreams?

Briefly, she thought about Velma's puzzlement over her remark about Tears of Lys. In her eyes, she saw knwledge she herself did not possess. What was that about?

She called the fire from the skies, and inhaled it with all her might. It warmed her up from head to toe, and she shivered with delight. She knew the comet for what it was, the sign from the Lord of Light. It spoke of coming war. Not the war of mortal kings, she cared little for their petty affairs. No. The real war. The war between the Light and the Darkness. Against the enemy that came from the winter and the deep. The Others.

The Light needed a hero. Azor Ahai come again, the Prince that was Promised. She always thought it would be Rhaegar. He was a blood of dragon, the fire incarnate. The perfect Prince, the perfect knight. He was born amid the smoke and salt of the tears in Summerhall, and he understood. He understood so much.

But Rhaegar was dead. Crushed by a hammerblow into his chest. His brave heart eaten by maggots.

Could Stannis Baratheon be Azor Ahai? A rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms, with his dragonblood thin? An honorable man with the heart of stone.

She looked into the flames for counsel, but saw only those meddling kids again.

Chapter Text

XX

"Zoinks Freddy, like, are you sure that big tattooed kraken of yours is not gonna show up?"

"Don't worry, Shaggs. I just need you to take a quick look at something."

Shaggy gulped. He would much rather have stayed in bed, but Fred was not taking no for an answer. What could it be that he wanted him for? Yes, he remembered mentioning to him that he was feeling somewhat better lately... but that was not an invitation to start using him as a bait for monsters again!

Lady Melisandre was burning him some special herbs for dreamless sleep. And if some nightmare came through regardless, she was always there to guide him out of it. At first, the red woman was giving him heebie-jeebies, but now he was lowkey in love with her. And her face was so strangely familiar...

He was enjoying a beautiful morning. Having a good stretch, wondering what to have for breakfast, but then into his chambers broke Fred with that mad spark in his eye, and announced that he needs him for something. Zoinks.

He knew that Fred was obsessed with the kraken that was marring his undersea research. He was waging a war on it, all the while thinking of the ways to trap it. That was fine. A man needed some hobbies, just like he had his food. But did he really had to to be a part of this?

For a short while, he felt ashamed of himself. Had he just finally accepted himself for a coward he was? Had he given up a legacy of his courageous ancestors? But no. Lady Melisandre called him her brave boy. For enduring the nightmares he was having. Yes, they were worse now, but they always were there, ever since he remembered. Maybe he was not really a coward after all, just too close to monsters to see what they truly were. She thought him brave. And who was he to doubt her judgement?

Using some very gentle violence, Fred loaded him into his submarine. Now, they were descending into the darkness of the oceanic abbyss.

"So," asked Fred in an attempt to kill the awkward silence. "How are you and your dreams lately? Still getting better? No more trips to the dawn of time?"

Shaggy nodded. "Like, I still get some from time to time, but mostly it's much better. Like, yesternight I even dreamed of food. There was me and Scoob, and late King Robert, and we were having this giant duck with a side of oranges..."

He drifted off as he realized that Fred was not listening. He was looking at some group of fishes swimming by. Seriously, if the topic were not traps or krakens, that man had an attention span of a newly hatched duckling.

He sighed. "Freddy?"

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry, Shaggs. So, no monsters anymore?"

"What is it that you need me to take a look at?"

"We're almost there."

There were two other men in the submarine, soldiers. They were working the oars. Serving under Fred was not a particularly popular duty, as many returned from his mad dashes with the tattooed kraken hurt, crippled, or even dead. Nevertheless, Stannis was paying them a generous stipend for volunteering. He believed that Fred's obsession was a goldmine for new weapon designs.

He let the machine sink to the floor, amid the forest of great polyps. Shaggy found them strangely familiar, as he did many things he saw in his dreams. Then he turned off the lights by flooding the green alchemical substancie with ink.

"Zoinks, what are you doing?"

"We need to hide from kraken. Don't worry, there is plenty of light. Your eyes just need to get used to it."

He was right. The forest was full of small creatures giving off their own light, just like fireflies on land. The firefish. The fireslugs. The firesquids.

And in their trembling lights, the polyps looked so so familiar. Like they were watching him. With eyes that felt like his own.

"They are weirwoods," explained Fred.

"What?"

"Yes yes. They must come from an era when the water levels were lower. You know, how the First Men crossed into Westeros on foot, across a land bridge that is now Stepstones. There must have been a lot of land that disappeared under the sea. And these are the weirwoods of that land."

Shaggy nodded. Like, that made sense. 

"They even have faces," continued Fred, so proud of his discoveries. "But not all of the trees here are weirwood. See those smaller ones, without the leafs? They are some species of coral. But they have some sort of a relationship with the weirwood. Somehow, they are coloring it black."

"How do you know that?"

"I have been collecting samples and doing some experiments. But wait, there is more! See those fish?"

He pointed towards a school of black fish with long faces, which they were repeatedly pushing against the corals, as if kissing them.

"They are called the black woodpeckerfish. They feed on a black goo that can be found in the corals, using their awfully long tongues. Velma told me that alchemists use them to make Tears of Lys. The poison. But I don't think they are the ones producing it. It's the corals."

"How do you know that, Freddy? Have you been testing poisons on animals?"

Fred nodded. For one scary moment, he reminded Shaggy of his uncle, Albert Shaggleford. He tried to suppress that thought, yet tried as he might, still it lingered.

Then he thought of something else and grew pale as a piece of chalk. "And like, do they suck also off the trees?"

"No," said Fred. "Their tongues are not strong enough for that."

Shaggy relaxed.

"But there are others, that specialize on trees. And those are actually the reason why I called you. I need your help with their identification."

Shaggy grew even paler. "Others? Like, the Others? Zoinks."

"Those too. We have seen a few before. But they are strangely lethargic. Not moving much. Most of the time they are lying in the sand like carpet sharks. If they're even out of the roots at all. I think it has something to do with the black goo in the wood."

A terrible hand of black dread got ahold of Shaggy's heart. It all came back. The nightmares. The fear.

"Look," called Fred. "There goes on of the creatures I told you about. Is it any familiar to you?"

He looked. And suddenly, there was no other way to turn, but to madness. Sweet unthinking. Sweet oblivion. It was the black monster he saw in the great winter at the beginning of time. Black horse-like head, terrible tentacles. And the tongues. Those long vampiric tongues, ready to suck blood and dreams. He fell to the ground, embraced his knees. From his mouth came a spasmodic giggle.

"Shaggs? By the Mother, Shaggy!" cried Fred, hurrying to help him.

"Captain," said one of the soldiers in a grave voice, pointing out of the window.

"What?"

"He's here."

Fred turned about.

And there, in the dark across the forest, shone two monstruous lights, the eyes of the tattooed kraken.

XXI

Fred looked at the kraken, then at his friend, weeping so weakly on the ground. He realized he made a horrible mistake. He cursed his soul, so stupid, so overeager to push on, push on into the darkness, even against his closest ones, destroying them in his obsession. He cursed himself seven times for the seven gods. The eyes of the kraken stared right into his soul.

Was there a chance that the beast had not seen them? Very little, he knew. There was no time to spare. No time to console Shaggy. Three people's very lives were depending upon his command. It was a time to be the captain.

"May the Stranger chew on your black hearts, you fucker," he cried towards his enemy. "Mister Borell, Mister Talbot, full power back!"

"Aye, captain!"

They moved awfully slow. Kraken immediately started after them.

How could it have found them? Was it following them? Or was it just a rotten chance?

Fred knew that in some way, just like him, the kraken was interested in sunken weirwood groves. How could that be, he knew not. At least with certainty. But he sensed an intent behind its actions. A specific intelligent goal. He knew it by an instinct, like a master trapper knew his prey.

Its pale stiff tentacles came so close. He could see their spirals of black, twisting and curling like a growing mold. They were about to close around them. Fred wouldn't dare to use wildfire. That would just take them to their burning grave. No net would be helpful either. But he had one last trick up his sleeve.

He purchased it by a great expense, without any guarantee it would ever work. Stannis closed the island from all the outside interference, but there were ways to smuggle things in. All the more more if one owned a submarine and was friends with Salladhor Saan.

He spent a great portion of Stannis' funding on just a little vial. It was the shade of the evening, a blue sap of the Essossi black trees. In the eastern kingdoms, it was sold as a drug. It was said to bring visions. But it grew no further west than the Black Forest of Qohor.

He aimed, and with a button-push, he sprayed it directly onto kraken's skin.

Then he closed his eyes and prayed.

Fred had theories about how it all worked. He knew that in the deep past, weirwoods and the shade of the evening trees were one and the same, with white trunks and blue blood, albeit slightly lighter shade. He had a rough idea how the weirwoods' blood became red. But how did the eastern variant's wood became black?

He thought that now maybe he had the answer. It was the corals. Sometime long ago, in the east, perhaps, some relative of theirs lived on dry land. Or maybe it lived there still. For far east was a mysterious enough place... And throughout years and years beyond counting, it colored the local trees' wood black. It must have been an awfully long process. The trees here had been submerged for millenia, and yet in their wood, it only managed to make spirals.

And finally, there were monsters. The black goo must have had some suppressing effect on production of the Others, allowing the black monsters, somehow surviving in the sea, to feed on the trees again.

He was kinda fuzzy on the details. Were there black monsters also in the east? And if not, what world-shattering eco-magical catastrophe would it start, were he to release some in the Black Forest, Asshai, or the mythical land of Ifequevron?

No! Those were not the thoughts he should be thinking now. He needed to be present. There were people relying on him.

He opened his eyes.

It worked. Apparently, it was no accident that the kraken's skin was the same color as the wood. It was built out of it! The black monsters came swarming around, lured by the smell of concentrated goo in the shade.

They started licking it out of the kraken with their terrible tongues, creeping like snakes across its spirals.

In the ensuing chaos, kraken released Mystery Wagon II from its snares. Fred leaped to Shaggy, but no. He had to watch.

The Others of the wood lifted themselves from their watery graves, and swam to the kraken, called upon by the wood of its hide. Slowly, like a wave of death that comes oh so surely for any peasant or King. Fred smiled contently. It was a perfect trap.

The pilots of the kraken must have panicked. They ejected themselves out of their vehicle, two people clad in strange underwater suits.

"They shall not escape!" commanded Fred, and started after them.

But alas, as they swam away, one of them was seized by an Other. He struggled, but the merciless creature broke him like a twig. "Quick!" They caught the other one in a net.

Then they hurried towards the surface, away from those terrible woods, away from of madness. Letting the kraken sink, pilotless and dead.

Fred swore he would come back for it.

XXII

"And beneath the mask there is," said Fred as he took off the man's helm. "Jalabhar Xho? But why?"

"For a chance to win back my Summer Isles," said the Prince. "With an army of Others."

They were on a cliff in the middle of the sea. Jalabhar down on his knees, with Fred's sword at his neck. There were tears running down his cheeks. Or was it just a spray of the waves? His words gave Fred a pause. How did he know the tree creatures were the Others?

"How?" barked Fred.

"We were told there was a way to tame them. The quiet of the deep. And so I sent for Boreo from Lorath, and we dived to see them," his voice broke. "Then he built the kraken ship, out of weirwood like the Grey King of old, and we tried some more. We observed them, we tried to find the way. But we could never do it. You! You did did it. How?"

Fred ignored his question. "Told by whom?"

"The boy. Jon Arryn's squire. Hugh of the Vale."

That caught Fred by surprise. What? How could the boy have known such things? He heard from Balerion that he had been a member of a Moon boy's secret club, the order of the Ancient Truths. Maybe those guys were not so loony after all. He had to know what they knew.

He looked at the man before him. Jalabhar was his friend. And if it was a crime to want to build an army of Others, then he was guilty of it as well. Besides, with Boreo dead, he was harmless. He could never build another kraken like that alone.

"Stand up, Jalabhar," he ordered. "I will not kill you today. I will take you to King's Landing to live out the rest of your days in peace."

"Thank you, Fred. May the Great Crocodile of love bless you."

"But for this mercy," Fred continued. "You shall arrange me a meeting with Moon boy."

Chapter Text

XXIII

They met them in one of the smelliest, most rat-infested locales in Flea Bottom.

They sat on lousy chairs made out of shipwreck wood, full of shipworm holes and dried barnacles. Velma saw how the barman, old sea wolf missing both legs and a nose, spat into their drinks. The ale reeked of fish.

Or, she thought, maybe it was just them. Fred had smuggled them into the city using one of Salladhor Saan's fishing vessels.

All the while, he kept looking over his shoulder, hand on the pommel of his sword. The atmosphere in the capital was very tense. Tyrion Lannister, a new Hand of the King, was preparing it for war. Goldcloaks were patrolling the streets, trying to maintain the order, but if the violence hidden within the fear ever burst out, they hardly had the numbers to contain it. The folks were wary of strangers.

It was just two of them. They sat in silence, Fred's eyes wandering all around the room just to avoid hers. Oh Freddy, she thought. She tried to tell him that she was not angry with him. Yes, he made a mistake. He probably shouldn't have forced Shaggy on that trip, but she understood. Truly. That mystery they were uncovering, it was so big. He wasn't the only one whose heart it was consuming whole. She was with him. All the way.

But he was not listening. He was like a little mollusc, spiralling deeper and deeper into his hard shell.

He came to her, right after he he carried Shaggy to Melisandre. He thought... he hoped. The red woman was the only one who could help him. Shaggy lived, but there was no light behind his eyes.

Then, he told her everything. She had already known of the weirwood, the Others, the black monsters, and even the shade of the evening. She was glad to hear it worked. But the mysteries went on. So Boreo had built a kraken out of weirwood. How? And how much did Moon boy really know?

She knew what was it that caused the death of Jon Arryn, but so much about it still remained unanswered. The questions were burning her from within. So when Fred told her he got a raven from Jalabhar, she went too.

"Here they are," whispered Fred.

Two men and a woman walked into the room. One was Moon boy, the other one was someone new, a short man with a strange, heavily lined face, scrawny and thin as a broom handle. He was dressed in rags and walked barefoot. He looked like a beggar, or maybe a traveling septon. The woman had a hawkish nut-brown face and distant eyes framed by a thick black line, as per Qohorik customs. Velma found her strangely familiar.

The scrawny man made a gesture towards the barman, and the old legless sea wolf immediately vacated the space. There was no one else.

"I expected there would be more of you," he said. "Where is young Shaggy Rogers? Where is Scooby Doo?"

"They couldn't make it," growled Fred. "I don't believe we have been introduced."

"Oh, pardon my manners. I am afraid they grew a tad rusty lately. You see, I have spent quite some time void of any intelligent company."

"Save for the rats of castle cellars," reminded him Moon boy merrily.

The man smiled. His expressions had a strange rubbery quality. "As you say, my friend. You may call me Septon Gull."

"He has a strange fondness for bird names," pointed Moon boy.

"I believe you are already familiar with my simple-mouthed friend. After all, it was him you came to see. By Mother's mercy, you shall get your answers, but all in good time. First, I wanted to take a measure of you. The famous Mystery gang. Frederick the master trapper. Velma, the first woman to openly earn a maester's chain in a thousand years..."

"And who are you?" asked Fred of the Qohorik woman.

"She does not understand you, Frederick. Her name is Tchvarga, she is my associate. But I think you knew her father. He was a mummer, a puppeteer. He used to work with Albert Shaggleford, Shaggy Roger's uncle."

A small gasp escaped Velma's mouth. Of course she remembered that shrewdish, mustached puppeteer. He had been making monster puppets to haunt the castle Sherringfort, to divert the attention from Albert Sherringford's experiments in castle's godswood. She also remembered how Fred drove his sword through his heart.

Fred did not move an eye.

"We have not come here to play games," she said. "Can you tell us what you know about the black monsters, Moon boy?"

"The gods," he corrected her. "They are the gods. Those of the deep. Peoples from under two-mooned skies. The vampires of understanding."

"Tell us about the kiss."

Moon boy blushed. "I was just a sorry young lad then, green as the summer snows. I was very very nervous, not knowing how to whip my tongue back. But I'm not gonna lie, it was amazing. Just as my pappy told me. It opened my eyes to so many things."

For a few heartbeats, Velma and Fred kept finding out that the words had all abandoned them. Moon boy kept staring back at them, smiling with childlike innocence.

Then, Septon Gull laughed in his rubbery way. Velma noticed that his eyes followed with a short delay. "Dear Moon boy's father, may the Stranger hold him gently, was a priest of the faith of Ancient Truths as well. When his son turned fifteen years of age, he took him to a chamber of the hidden moon, to be kissed by their gods. It made him understand wonders, but also left him not quite right in the head."

Moon boy smiled apologetically.

Velma knew about that chamber. She had read about it in a forgotten tome mapping the reign of King Baelor the Blessed. The pious King decreed that al worshippers of the dark magic, meaning followers of the faiths others than the faith of the Seven, should be persecuted. It was written that Ser Romas of the City Watch followed a group of cultists into a hidden cavern within Aegon's Hill, where he saw them around the ancient altar of stone, copulating with the foul things of shadow and river slime. He then put all of them to sword.

Velma was pretty sure it was the very same cavern where Shaggy and Fred had first found the rat monster. Well, Moon boy.

She had run a little background check on the fool. No one really knew where he came from. She managed to find out that his father was certain Muro the Alchemist. He died in the fire of Summerhall, together with King Aegon V and Prince Duncan the Small. That put Moon Boy at least at fifty-five years of age. And yet he looked not a day older than twenty.

"Not right in the head enough to forget that a person needs to use shade of the evening before the kissing ritual?"

Moon boy shook his head. "I know, I know. I am a terrible, the most terrible of all High Priests. I seriously forgot about that. I had never done it before. It was Hugh, he persuaded me. I said no Huey, I've never done it before, what if something goes wrong, and he said Common Moonie, don't be a chicken. He told me that old Lord Arryn was solving some mystery, and that he could benefit from some insight, or even that cosmic understanding, the gift of our gods. And that Arryns of Vale were always close to our thing, with a moon on their sygil, ruling over the Mountains of the Moon, the Gates of the Moon, and the Moon Door, and all. And I said alright, Huey, you know I can't say no to your blue eyes, and so I brought a god to Lord Arryn's chambers, and it kissed him. Then he died."

He said it with big sheepish eyes. Velma almost believed that he didn't mean for anything like that to happen. It was a jester's trick, really. Jon Arryn died and the realm had bled. But it was not Queen Cersei who murdered him, to prevent the secret of her childrens' parentage from coming to light. Nor was it his wife, Lisa Arryn, dancing to Littlefinger's vile schemes. No, it was the two idiot loverboys who forgot that their black gods from the deep had saliva that contained toxins of the black deep-sea coral, just like the black woodpeckerfish.

"Tell us about the gods," commanded Velma. "What do you know about them?"

"I know plenty about them, but I don't have to tell you anything," spat out Moon boy. "You are a mean cow with saggy tits."

"You tell them," said Septon Gull in a quiet, calm voice that immediately tamed the jester.

"Alright alright," cried Moon boy. "I tell you. They are ancient old. And they were ancient old even when my grand grandfather hundreds of million times and two removed was but a humble fish. So ancient old they are."

"What?" asked Fred, perplexed by that sentence.

Velma gestured him to be quiet.

"They feed on blood to gain understanding. Just like that fellow from Moat Cailin, except they do not like red blood, because it's too different from their own. But they do like humans. If you sing them a right song, they will think you are their child, and regurgitate some understanding onto you. That is kissing. One time during the winter before summers, they were almost all killed off by the Others, but some found refuge in the dark abyss of the sea. The aeons came and gone like the visitors in the brothel, and during one, black lichen started growing on the trees. And there were wasp crabs and beaver lizards feeding on them. But beaver lizards were boring deep into the wood. Then the Others came, and were killing lizards and crabs alike. The lichen didn't like that, because the crabs were spreading their spores, and so they started producing a black potion that told the trees it's alright, let the Others sleep. It was also toxic to the lizards so they would leave the trees be, but not to the trees so they wouldn't die. Then came the age of the wyverns, and the lichens' kin died out everywhere except in the sea..."

Velma kept listening very carefully. So much of it didn't make sense, and yet so much of it absolutely did. She felt she was finally getting pieces of the wider picture, and it was enormous. She remembered Maester Darmin and his work on the storks of the island Visenya. Could his theories really be true?

Septon Gull kept looking at her with raised eyebrows. "A tough one to crack, eh? But who of us mortals can hope to solve the mystery of what it is really that Father, Mother, Warrior, Smith, Maiden, Crone, and Stranger have created." His face was wrong.

She gestured to Fred a familiar sign. He understood immediately.

He stood up and walked to Septon Gull. Then, without hesiatation, he tore off his face. Tchvarga screamed. Then she cursed Fred in some rough eastern speech. Of course, it was a mask. Septon Gull was a puppet.

During their numerous adventures, they had encountered many puppets and costumes. They quickly recognized that there were almost no limits to making convincing monsters. But making convincing humans was a different thing altogether. People could recognize things that looked like humans, but were not quite it. They noticed all the little details. Fred even theorized that it might have something to do with some ancient instincts to fear the Others, who were also like humans, but not quite.

But even Velma had to concede that this one came very close to perfection.

Inside of Septon's Gull mechanical frame sat an old grey parrot.

"Professor Pericles!" she cried.

"I condone you," said the parrot. "Well done. Your reputation is truly deserved."

"But why this charade?"

"As I said, I wanted to take a measure of you. If you are anything like we used to be." He gave them a dark smile, the mucous green of his cataract glistened in the room's muffled light. "Also, I am learning to get comfortable in Tchvarga's designs. For the world domination purposes."

XXIV

The sea was calm as a mirror. The night glimmered red with a light of the bleeding star. A silence sat upon it, as Fred and Velma sailed back to Dragonstone.

The windless condition was not tormenting them. Instead, they laid on the unmoving waters, watching the stars above, wondering about the monsters and the mysteries, about the vastness of the world and time, and their own place in it.

Pericles had let them go. He said he was curious what would they make of themselves in this new world. He said that the realm was at the doorstep of a new age, one of magic and miracles, the Great Empire of the Dawn reborn. In that, he reminded Velma of Shaggleford. When she asked him what he had meant by that, he said the Dynasty of Pericles the Great, of course, but she doubted that even he believed that. It was so much bigger than any of them.

She knew. She knew for a long time now. Ever since the dead man with cold hands came for Shaggy that one morning beyond the Wall. Ever since they saw the Others. But then, they still had each other. Daphne had not abandoned them yet, and the threads of love that connected them were not yet so stretched.

"Why have we grown so apart?" she asked of Fred.

His eyes almost fell out of his skull. "So you have noticed too," he sighed.

"Yeah. Like, isn't it obvious?"

Then, after a long silence, she asked him what he wanted to do now. He said he planned to salvage Boreo's kraken. To see how it worked. And after that... he shrugged. Probably continue exploring the deep, see what it gives.

She told him she wanted to go to Old Town, to speak with Marwyn, and Tristoff, and Vincent Van Ghoul, the Citadel's brightest, or anyone who asked the right questions. She would take Balerion with her, as he wanted to learn. And after that... who knew, anywhere the answers would lie. Perhaps even with him, to the deep.

He told her she would be welcome anytime. A bitter tear rolled down his cheek. What was else there to say? Could this be the end?

They lived through so much together. They were the best friends, the Scooby gang, the meddling kids. Yes, they had been apart before, during her first years in the Citadel, or that one time Scooby had enough and went to live with his parents. But never like this, at the end of the childhood, when the world grew dark. 

Would they still love each other the next time they met?

She thought of Daphne, and her eyes filled with tears. She wondered where she was now. Or who she was. Had she ever really known her at all?

"I love you, Freddy," she said.

"I love you, Velms."

Then she kissed him. With all her might and all her tongue. He was surprised, but he kissed her back. He was so close, jinkies! She felt the wetness of his cheek, and hers.

Clumsily, he slided his hands underneath her shirt. She kissed him even mightier, encouraging him, until his hands finally found her breasts.

Velma had large breast. The cow milkers, her old mother used to tell her. You will never pass for a boy in the Citadel. She used to hate them, curse them, those two giant sacks of meat, but in the boys' hands, they always felt so good. Fred pulled her shirt over her face, and put one of the nipples in his mouth, sucking like a babe off his mother.

She felt the anticipation growing. She had never been with Fred, not really. They were close, but never like this. But now, she was making love with all those years galloping away. The best years of her life. With the person she used to be, the first Velma she ever dared to love. So much was left unsaid, but this was not a time for talking.

She realized she was moving on him, crotch on crotch, her hands caressing his bare skin. She got him out of his shirt, and then moved down, freeing both of them of the rest of their clothes, and sliding him in. It felt so good.

She looked up, at the stars. There were thousands of them. Those bright dots, what were they really? Some maesters though they were distant worlds, just like this one, with their own peoples, their own mysteries.

They floated on the top of the abyss full of monsters, through the night that was full of terrors.

She moaned with delight, and gazed deep into Fred's eyes. He was with her. In her. He understood. And she knew she would never ever stop loving him. Even if their ways parted, even if they were never to see each other again... they were in it together, and they always would be.

Their bodies squeezed against each other, as she leaned to kiss him again. She felt him waver, he was close. But so was she. She forced him to stay. His eyes opened wide, as he sowed his seed inside her. "Velms?"

She silenced him with her tongue. Then she bid him her farewell again, and again, with her body and her tears. There, under the skies of stars and fiery magical omens.

Their childhood ended, the days of Mystery gang. Out there on land, five Kings were preparing to wage war on one another. The Seven Kingdoms would bleed. Who knew what the future might bring. But here, now, on the unmoving ocean below the stars, she said her farewells well and proper, and for now, that was enough.

Chapter Text

XXV

Shaggy was walking through the icy waste at the beginning of time. The world was barren, save for the trees. The weirwoods of old, with white bark and light blue leaves. He wondered where they came from, into this silent land, so long before any other trees came to be. In the skies, there shone two moons.

The world was freezing cold, but he was alright. His baggy green shirt was all he needed, really. If anything, he felt a little peckish. And maybe a little thirsty...

He came along a pool of water. A crevice in the ice. He bent down to have a drink, but then he noticed he wasn't alone.

"Like, hey," he said towards a stranger.

The stranger waved him back. It was an old woman, about three feet tall, with a hazelwood-brown skin and wildcat's eyes. She was definitely one of the Children. She wore a light rug of ashen fabric that barely hid her lean body. It looked frail as a feather, yet somehow strangely firm.

"I came to take you home," she told him.

"Home," repeated Shaggy, the world rolling out strangely off his tongue. "Like, it's been so long."

He looked at the blue skies, crispy clear without a single cloud. The icy earth without the end. He remembered other places, other times, but all of them were no more than distant dreams.

"Who are you?"

She smiled at him. "I have forgotten my name a long time ago."

He knew she must have been one of the greenseers wedded to the trees. Just like he was, but voluntarily. "Who sent you?" Then, with a faint glimmer of hope in his voice he asked. "Scooby Doo?"

"Yes," said the woman. "He and his human friend, the Greenhand."

Shaggy almost suffocated in surprise. "Greenhand? Like, that Garth Greenhand? The first king of First Men?"

He was a myth, an legendary King of the Dawn Age. Some said that he was the one who taught men how to farm, after being laughed at for his ridiculous ideas by both giants and Children. Some said he never existed at all. And grandma Shagworthy claimed that he was a distant ancestor of their house. Like, she must have been crazy.

He sat down heavily by a side of the pool. He was so lost, so tired. His eyes became teary.

He looked into its clear waters, and saw life. There were patches of colorful sponges, growing on the weirwood roots protruding from the ice, and schools of small jellyfish, about the size of daisies, swimming briskly just under the surface.

"Some of them may be our ancestors," told him the woman.

"What?"

"During the Great Winter, there was nowhere else to be. Only in pools like this one, or others below the ice, along the weirwood roots. We all began here. Us, singers, giants, humans, trees and butterflies, fish and dragons."

"Even the black monsters?"

"I suppose. But they must have come from some different pool, long ago."

He nodded. He did not understand. "Take me home. Please."

She gave him a hand, three fingers and a thumb, all ended in a claw. Shaggy took it, and closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, he was somewhere else. The woman was gone.

Instead of an endless white waste, there was a mighty oak forest. In the middle of it, there stood a weirwood, with a face, red leaves, and all. In its shade slept a family of lions. Zoinks.

Shaggy was scared of lions. Luckily, they were almost extinct in Westeros, save for an isolated population in the hills of westerlands. The gang had once investigated a lion ghost in the Red Mountains, so he knew all about them from Velma. Of course, there were Essossi lions, found in private collections of some lords, from which they sometimes managed to escape. But those were generally smaller than their Westerosi relatives, and had more luscious manes. These were Westerosi ones for sure.

The lion family was merrily ignoring him. The treetops were alive with birdsong. And... something else. A man's song. There were scarcely any words in it, something about the spring and the sun. It vibrated through the forest, and all the mushrooms underground, all the little snails in the moss sang it with him.

He came from behind the weirwood. A tall man with a crown of flowers, and two giant antlers like a Baratheon lord, only his looked legit legit. His skin was green like a moss, and on his back he carried a large canvas bag. By his side walked a dog, a great Dane, just like Scooby Doo. Well, it was Scooby Doo, he realized. The original one, Garth Greenhand's dog.

"Like, hello," Shaggy said.

"You smell of fear," told him the green man.

One of the lions suddenly noticed them. It stood up, and sprang right at Shaggy. He screamed.

But here came Scooby Doo, stepping right between him and the lion, giving it a mighty growl. The beast turned away.

"Scooby Dooby Boo. Hee hee hee," giggled the dog.

Garth continued. "But also, you smell of my blood."

Shaggy gulped.

Garth put the bag off his back, and put his green hand in it. For some time, he kept searching for something inside. Then he apparently found it, and handed it to Shaggy. It was an acorn.

"Like, thanks."

"Plant it," thundered Garth. "It will grow into an oaken sword to slay your fears."

Shaggy looked at a little acorn in his hand. "Like, here?"

"No, son," said Garth. "In the garden of your own."

"But where is that, Lord Greenhand?"

"Follow Scooby."

And Scooby led him out of the forest into a great meadow. He blinked and noticed a great castle standing on the other side of it. There were people flowing in from all directions, with tents standing all around. The castle was black and crumbled, the biggest he had ever seen. Shaggy immediately recognized it as Harrenhal. Its towers floated large Targaryen banners, and another one with nine bats on golden field. There was music and cheers, and smell of many good foods. 

"It is the day of Lord Whent's grand tourney," said a voice from behind his back.

Shaggy turned. Instead of Garth's Scooby Doo, there stood a short man in a green coat that hid his eyes. He carried a fishing trident as a spear. Shaggy found him strangely familiar.

"My name is Howland Reed," he introduced himself. "But you may call me Howl."

Howl. He remembered him. He was a member of that other Mystery gang he kept dreaming about. A crannogman. Howland Reed, Lord of Greywater Watch. 

"Hey. Like, I'm Shaggy."

"You need to wake up, Shaggy."

"But... but the world is full of monsters."

Howl took him by a hand. "Aye," he said, exhaling softly. "I know."

He looked longingly at the castle. "But the dreams have their own."

"Like, I know," said Shaggy. "Nowhere is safe."

"This is the place where I met Lya and Rhegg for the first time after many years," said Howl. "I returned from the Isle of Faces, where I had spent the whole winter among the green men. I got wedded to the trees, just like you beyond the Wall. On my way back, I went past Harrenhal, unknowing that the field I was walking on was a tourney field. For that, I got beaten up by three knights' squires. But she saw it, and rushed to my aid. Lya, Lyanna." 

He was looking straight into Shaggy's eyes, as if trying to avoid the ghosts of the dream around him. "She took me to her tent, where I met her brothers, Brandon, Ned and Benjen. I knew Brandon from our investigation of Crypt ghouls in Winterfell, but other two I met for the first time. Then Rhaegar heard about the incident, and came too. We spent all night reminiscing about our old cases. The old gang together at last. Save for Pericles. And Mel."

"Is Mel Lady Melisandre?" asked Shaggy. "She is taking care of me."

"Aye," said Howl. "But beware of the red woman. Her actions are not as selfless as you were led to believe. And also beware of Professor Pericles, my old parrot. Rhegg had throw him into dungeon, but he hijacked your dreams through the link he still had with mine. For that, I am sorry."

Gulp. "Zoinks."

Again, Howl gazed into his eyes with that burning intensity. "That night I dreamed of things yet to come. The shadows of future woodwalkers. I saw Lyanna entering the tourney on my behalf, as the Mystery Knight of the Laughing Tree, defeating the squires' knights, demanding apology. I saw Rhaegar falling in love with her for that. And all the blood that would spill. Now I see the blood again. Do you see it too?"

Shaggy closed his eyes, trying to see the future.

He saw the war. Crows feeding on rotting corpses from horizon to horizon. A pack of dead wolves around the wedding table, one of them wearing a crown. A mountain with a peak woven of shadows crushing screaming women into pulp. He saw the trees burning, dead building gallows for living. He saw dragons. The Others marching south. He saw Fred leading the army of monsters, and dreams turning inky black.

He gasped.

"Now do you see why you must wake up?"

"Yes," he whispered with eyes full of tears.

"Come then."

"Wait, there is something I need to do before."

Shaggy closed his eyes, and stepped through the dream. Suddenly, he was in Freddy's old workshop back by the Blake's castle in the Reach. The place where the Scooby gang used to meet before they first took Mystery Wagon out into the world. The first place where he ever felt brave.

There were two flowerpots, used for Velma's botany experiments from the time when they had been trying to figure out the mystery of Horrendous Ghost Haystack from Asshai. He took the acorn he got from Garth Greenhand, and planted it into one of them.

Then he waited, day and night, until it sprouted into a sword.

"Now I'm ready," he told Howl.

He plucked out the sword, and swished it around. He never was much of a swordsman, but with it in hand, he felt like Arthur Dayne with Dawn, or Galladon of Morne with Just Maid.

Howl led him to the door of the walking world. It was guarded by a black beast with thousand tongues. Without hesitation, he slew it, and opened his eyes.

XXVI

"You are awake," said Lady Melisandre, taking her eyes off shadows playing on the wall. They were in a candle-lit room, her sitting by the side of his bed.

"Yes," Shaggy said, disoriented. "How long have I been...?"

"Eight days."

"Zoinks."

She stabbed him with her red red stare. "I have felt a surge of power about you. Something made you wake up."

"Like, that must have been my oaken sword."

"A sword," she repeated with a wary tongue of a woman who understands the power of names.

"Yeah. It was given to me by Garth Greenhand."

Her eyes narrowed. "Who is Garth Greenhand?"

Of course, he kept forgetting that she was not brought up with fairy tales of southern Westeros. "He was a King of old. In the times of First Men. My grandmother used to tell me that our house descends from his firstborn son, Roger the Shaggied."

"So you're of king's blood," she whispered.

Shaggy grew pale as an old bone. He recalled her saying that king's blood shall wake the dragons out of stone. Zoinks, now she would want to sacrifice him...

He sprung out from his bed like a young stag. His bedridden body was weak, but the flame of his newfound courage in his heart burned bright.

"I have to go. Sorry. I have an important appointment in the... kitchen! Hi hi. Like, it cannot wait, I'm afraid."

She kept staring at him, as he moved towards the door. She stood there almost naked, in a light red dress with nothing underneath, and the ruby on her neck. Suddenly, he noticed her bulging belly.

"Wait, are you pregnant?"

"It is yours," she whispered. "You fathered it on me while you were asleep."

He tried to do the math, count the days, but something was very very off. Was she lying to him about how long he had slept? With eyes still locked with his, she went to lie on his bed. There, she spread her legs. Zoinks. She showed him her bare womanhood. And he saw something move inside. A shadow. A shadow baby the size of a man came crawling out of her. Shaggy decided to run.

XXVII

He stumbled across the corridors of dragon-shaped towers, the halls of fused black stone, in a mad dash away from the red woman. 

Where were his friends? Fred, Velma, Balerion. "Scooby Doo?" he hollered. "Where are you?"

He found him in a guardsmen outpost, among the harsh grizzled soldiers, veterans of many wars, in a deep conversation about life over a beer and a boiled salmon.

"Friends are like shits during the long march, drinking only rainwater," said one of them, a large hairy thug with scars across his entire face. "Sometimes they just leave you, and you can do nothing about it."

"Scooby Dooby True," agreed Scooby with his ears sadly hung.

"Scoob!" cried Shaggy.

"Sometimes I still hearh his voice..."

"Scooby Doo!"

"Rhaggy? Rhaggy!"

He ran towards him like a storm of joy, and they found themselves in each other's embrace. It was warm and sweet. True friends were indeed like shits during the long march, drinking only rainwater. Here they were, everytime you believed they would not come again.

"I love you, Rhaggy."

"I love you, Scooby Doo."

They were the best pals.

"Let's neverh go chasing monsterhs everh again," said Scooby.

"Never. Never," cried Shaggy.

"We rhould go to my parhents in Dooville," suggested Scooby. "Lay low therhe. Have some of my motherh's famous Scooby snacks."

"You know what, Scooby Doo? That sounds really great."

Suddenly, Scooby grew pale. There was something crawling after Shaggy. It was made of shadows, like a runny black liquid in a shape of man. Its narrow black eyes spelled murder.

Shaggy turned to face it. He suffocated the budding scream in his heart. Remember the oaken sword. He looked at his best pal, and Scooby understood. They were one heart, one soul.

He stole one of the guards' fedora, and so did Scoob. Then each of them took a cane, and swinged it in the air.

"Ready, Scoob?"

"I was borhn rheady."

They took the shadow demon, each under one arm, and started singing in a burlesque manner of old-timey clubs.

"Me and my shadow demon
Strolling down the graveyard lane
Me and my shadow demon
Looking for a way to cause pain
When it's Wolf's hour o'clock
You'll start to dream
We'll rap and knock
Til we make you scream
Just me and my shadow demon
Everyone thinks we're insane"

And so they sang and danced with it, and gave theatrical bows towards the soldiers, until the shadow demon, the unholy progeny of Shaggy and Melisandre, perished out of sheer bewilderment.

XXVIII

Balerion loomed over a book, doing his best trying to read, to understand what it was saying. Instead, he kept finding himself strangely entertained by plucking out his own feathers. He had once heard that maesters are more prone to balding than general populace. He wondered if this was the reason. Thanks to Maester Pylos' sure hands, his wing was almost healed. Still, he was going crazy. He loved books, but what was all the dusty knowledge worth, if one couldn't raise himself up to the kingdom of the wind, to put it all into perspective? At least from time to time...

The book he was reading was from Maester Banach. It was a highly abstract treatise on something called a spectrum of a compact operator. The theory was inspired by teachings of a mysterious Ghiscari hermit that lived during the reign of Jaeherys I. Some said the man came from a long secret lineage of maegi, or wizards, dating perhaps to the Great Empire of the Dawn. That he had knowledge of ancient magic that could move the mountains and the seas, and knew how the dragons first came to be in the Shadowlands beyond Asshai.

But Banach was not interested in any of those things. Just in generalizing some of the hermit's outlandish ideas about numbers and their mysterious workings, identifying all the pathological cases, building a theory. Balerion, on the other hand, was more curious about dragons. But still, Banach's musings were strangely fascinating. They were elegant a d deep. Perhaps one day, someone could use them for something. To gain some insight into the fundamental mysteries of nature worked. Or magic.

"Any luck understanding that?" asked him Velma.

"Not really," he admitted. "It goes way over my head. I think he was a genius."

Velma grinned. "There is a heated argument as of whether he was a genius or mad. Citadel's current opinion rather leans towards the latter."

"Are there some Citadel maesters who actually understand it?"

"Well, Maester Kvattner used to teach a course about it."

Balerion cheered. Their ship to Old Town was to set sail at sunrise. Some part of him kept asking if it was really a good idea. To leave everything, Shaggy, Scooby, Fred, and go. He felt ashamed for how excited he was.

Cling clang, went the bells on their way into the library. It was him again. "Under the sea, there are fish and fishies everywhere you look, however small are your eyes. And still, you could count them, were you to live as long as a sleeper shark. Maybe that's an answer you seek, Lord Raven. I know I know I know, oh oh oh."

"Thanks, Patches, it's..." Wait! His words reminded Balerion of separability of Banach's spaces. And if the spaces in the chapter he was currently reading were separable, many things would suddenly start making sense. He went several pages back, to the beginning of the chapter, and indeed, he found that it started with Let X be a complete normed space that is separable.

His beak dropped. "Patches, how do you know Banach's theory?"

Velma dropped her glasses on the ground.

The fool's eyes darkened. "We were drinking the shadow wine, inky blue like octopus' juice, or the stormy skies above. Then the sea devoured me, and the shadows came to dance my lord, dance my lord, dance my lord." He started to sing.

"Patches," whispered Velma. "What happened then?"

She had her suspicions. In the east, Lord Steffon and Lady Cassana had probably purchased some shade of the evening. They were hardly the first middle-aged rich couple who on decided to experiment with some drugs on the holiday overseas. They must have tried it during the voyage, and share some with their new miracle boy from Volantis.

"There are fish under the sea that kiss you, and their kisses make your head dance with the shadows," said Patchface. "I know I know I know, oh oh oh, they kissed me for years and years. I died and died again, and was brought back in the way of the trees. And the shadows came to stay my lord, stay my lord, stay my lord."

And then he sang, and said no more.

XXIX

They found Fred on the beach, loading his things onto a ship. Its name, painted on the side with black letters, was Evening. Shaggy had no doubt that he had built it himself. Mystery Wagon II was already on board.

"Shaggs!" he said, surprised. "You are awake." Something hard melted off from his face. It was as if he suddenly became thirty years younger. "I'm glad to see you, old friend."

"What is the meaning of this, Frhed?" asked Scooby, gesturing towards the ship. "Wherhe arhe you going?"

Fred turned his eyes away.

"Freddy?"

"South," he said. "I want to explore the seas around the Stepstones. And then perhaps even further south. Or west. Or east. Or maybe even north, to the Shivering Sea..." He seemed distraught.

"Like, that sure sounds like a long trip."

Fred made himself look his friend in the eye. "Yeah."

"May we go with you?"

He averted his gaze again.

Shaggy got it. He was scared. For him, of him... of what he had become, the man who lets his friends get hurt, hellbent on his ambition. He had dark shame written all over his face.

He tried to tell him that it was alright, that he was not angry with him. But then he remembered the vision he had in his dream, of Fred at the head of an army of monsters. Something about it reminded him of his uncle, Albert Shaggleford. Suddenly, he could not make himself say that. What by the Stranger had happened to them all?

"What about Velma? And Balerion?"

"They are sailing to Old Town at the sunrise."

"What?"

"Yeah. She wants to speak with some maesters. He wants to learn."

For a while, they just stood there. The sea sang against the cliffs.

"So," said Shaggy finally. "Is this the end?"

Fred remained silent.

And so Shaggy reached out, and embraced him. Fred fell into his arms. And so he held him. And Scooby Doo too fell around them.

Shaggy remembered his oaken sword, and stood firm. Scared, but no longer feeble, no longer a bush that bends against the wind of fear. The winds that drove them away from each other. The winds of winter that blew Daphne north. He was an oak, proud and mighty. For the first time in his life.

"Why can't we go to Old Town together? You can explore the Whispering South bay, and we can remain the Scooby gang."

And Fred wept and wept the warm tears that smeared Shaggy's shirt, and he allowed himself to hope that perhaps they might still remain as they were. That perhaps everything could still be made right.

XXX

Velma hugged him tight. "Come with us. Please."

But Fred had already said he would not go. He had decided to go his own way, just like Daphne.

Could they hold the gang together, just the four of them? Him, Scooby, Velma, Balerion? Perhaps. But their eyes were still so eager for mysteries, and he badly needed a break. He felt that even the oaken sword would not hold him, were he to push it too much.

"Like, I think that for some time, me and Scoob will kick it back at his parents' place in Dooville. But we'll catch up to you as soon as we can."

"Promise?"

"Yeah."

Then she hugged him even tighter, and their ship sailed off east.

They stood on the beach, waving like mad, until it disappeared over the horizon.

"So," asked Fred. "Do you guys need a ride?"

XXXI

And so they sailed together, right after Stannis' army that went to meet with Renly's. Just the three of them, and some men from Salladhor Saan's fleet that Fred hired to help with his experiments. 

They relaxed on the board, drank diluted wine, and ate hearty meals from fish that Fred trapped into his fishing traps.

They laughed on Scooby's jokes and petty fights with marine fauna. The sun shone bright, and Shaggy felt unbothered and happy, for the first time in Crone knew how long. And Fred's smiles seemed genuine as well.

Maybe he would reconsider, he thought as he closed his eyes beneath the starry skies after the long evening of talking and laughter. Maybe, in a year, the gang would be back together. Maybe even Daphne would return...

On the second day, they reached the mouth of Cool River. Evening's draft was quite shallow, suitable for river navigation, and so they continued against its course, deep into Stormlands. They passed the ruin of Sherringfort castle, Shaggy's ancestral seat, and reached Dooville right in time for dinner.

The streets were empty. Whistling wind carried dried leaves across the dusty pavements. The shaggied tops of Shaggied hills threw irregular shadows.

On one of the porches sat a white dog in a straw hat, and played Jenny's song on a harmonica. Once he saw them, he stopped.

"A'e you f'iends o' fiends?" he asked.

"Are you a sheriff around here?" asked Fred.

"No-o way," intoned Scooby. "That is my brother - Scooby Toot."

Scooby Toot's eyes popped out. "Scooby Doo, is that you?"

"Rhea."

They did a special paw-shake.

"Did you come to visit Mommy and Daddy Doo?"

"Rhea."

"Come then. Eve'yone's inside, because Mommy Doo made pancakes fo' dinne'. I just... stayed outside to toot some. The empty st'eets a'e good fo' blues, y'know..."

But Shaggy and Scooby were no longer listening. Their eyes grew dreamy at the mention of pancakes.

The Doos' parents' house was the largest on the Dooville's townsquare. Scooby Toot led them inside. "Mommy, Daddy, siblings and cousins Doo, guess who I just met?"

"Scooby Doo," cried Mommy Doo with tears of joy. "By the Mother, how skinny you are! Are they not feeding you enough?"

"No, ma. I am starhving."

"Shaggy! Freddy! Come on in, don't be shy! We have enough food for everyone. This household has single-handedly filled the gap in the food market left after Targaryen dragons... Hey, stop chewing with your mouth open, Scooby Rude!"

Daddy Doo lifted his eyes off the newspaper. It was a Stormlands Herald, full of bleak titles such as.

The war is imminent.

Renly Baratheon dead. 'A shadow demon did it,' claims Brienne of Tarth.

Supplies of Mojito ice cut short again. 'The North does not trade with false kings,' informs Robb Stark, the Young Wolf.

"Scooby Doo," he said, delightedly puffing off his pipe. "What is new in mystery business, my pup?"

"We have found some rheal monsterhs," told him Scooby with his mouth full of pancakes. "Beyond the Wall. And in the sea."

"Uhm uhm," nodded Daddy Doo approvingly. "You didn't have to go that far for that. Take, for example, your Gramma Dee, my Mother in Law..."

"Daddiel Daddius Doo, you take that back!" shouted Mommy Doo.

"I Doo. It was just a joke, sugar bone."

But he continued joking about Gramma Dee, let the Stranger's hellhounds nibble her bones gently, throughout the entire evening. They laughed, and stuffed themselves full of pancakes.

Shaggy went to sleep thinking life was good. In his dreams, he slew all the monsters with his oaken sword.

When he woke up in the morning, Fred was already gone.