Viserys IX
Black wings beating to the side of him, a clear blue sky above marked only by a dark-feathered bird looking down past him.
Viserys lowered his gaze and saw below the world consumed. Glaciers of ice marched to meet storms of fire.
There was nowhere on the earth below for men. Only the skies were safe and the skies belonged to bird, to dragons and those who rode on them.
Where could I ride?
I could ride anywhere.
But where was there to go in a world of ice and fire?
Daenery's face, glimped in the divide between the two warring elements below. Viserys grasped the reins of his steed and they dived...
With a gasp, he woke. Thee sun was low in the sky but enough light broke through the entrance of the tent to see that he'd kicked off his blankets in the night. It was warm and muggy, as it had been every day since the Windblown made camp here.
No one else in the tent was awake yet so he tried to be quiet as he pulled his boots on. Picking up his sword and swordbelt he crept out and into the morning sunshine. The scene he saw was one of those becoming familiar to him now that he'd been in the Disputed Lands for six months. The Windblown were camped around two-thirds of the way towards a tributary city of Myr. Between them and any further advance was a second mercenary company of approximately the same size.
Since any battle between the two companies would be chancy the campaign was thus deadlocked until either Lys or Myr sent reinforcements. There were occasional skirmishes between scouts - he'd been involved in a few - checking the opposing lines for any signs of such reinforcements arriving.
This far south even winter didn't prevent the three south-western Free Cities from fighting over the triangle of land between them. Not that winter was a problem at the moment. Aegon the Conquerer had fought in this part of Essos before he began his epic conquest of Westeros. As far as Viserys could see, the three cities hadn't stopped fighting over the lands ever since. Even when they briefly united under the Triarchy, conflicts had bubbled beneath the surface.
The green landscape gave some credance to why though. These were rich lands. Although only slightly further north than Dorne's deserts, the lakes and rivers to the east left them well watered. If one power dominated the lands then they could well dominate the lands east of the Rhoyne.
Viserys supposed that that was precisely why if any one of the three cities grew too strong the others would find common cause against them - or during their brief alliance, why cities as far away as Lorath had joined a league against them.
"You seem deep in thought," observed a quiet voice and Viserys turned to see his commander watching him, an amused look on his face.
"Just contemplating history." He went back to buckling his belt around himself.
"Ah. Thinking of old enemies?"
"More of old causes. Wars in this part of the world."
"Ah. Well there's rarely a shortage of those. Not the most lucerative of work but it's reliable." The Tattered Prince stretched his joints. "It isn't your day to take a patrol is it, Ser Viserys?"
"No."
The older man nodded. "Well do so anyway. According to the Pentos Broadsheet, the Myrish have signed a contract with the Second Sons so there could be five hundred more men marching towards us."
"You read the Pentos Broadsheet?" The Tattered Prince had first become famous when he fled his home city rather than being appointed as the Prince of Pentos. Then again, it was an perilous post since the prince was executed in the event of misfortune on the part of the city.
"I like to keep track of old friends. And of old enemies."
Viserys nodded. "May I take a look when you're done. There may be news of Westeros."
"By all means. Broaden your mind, Ser Viserys. You can lose wealth and lose weapons, but nothing save senility can strip you of your wits."
Cassana I
She couldn't believe that winter hadn't come to the North. It was so cold! And yet everyone from Sansa, at Winterfell, to Lord Commander Jeor Mormont, assured her that this was normal summer weather in the North. It was so cold!
She was spending a lot of time with father though. And it was time she didn't have to share with Mya, Bella, Dany and probably Lyanne when she was older. Or Eddard, although he was more interested in running and playing with the other boys of the Crown than on sitting with their father.
She shared father's chamber everywhere they travelled and when there weren't girls her own age to meet she could sit in meetings with him, the way mother did sometimes. Father had even spent a day at Winterfell sitting with she and Sansa as the Septa taught them embroidery and telling them both stories. Sansa had been enchanted by the romance of Sheridan and Delenn, and of the great castles of Babylon in the days when the giants and the children of the forest still lived south of the Neck.
There weren't any children to play with at the Wall though. Not children of rank, anyway. The men of the Night's Watch didn't have women - or if they had had them once they would have given them up for the Wall - and with no women there could be no children.
Of course, here at Oakenshield and further down the wall at Sable Hall, there would be Easterland knights and men-at-arms, so there might be women coming with them but for now there were none. And at Woodswatch-by-the-Pool, which was between the two castles. Cassana knew, because she'd been there when father told Prince Benjen Stark and Lord Commander Mormont that even though each kingdom was only supposed to garrison two castles, he would try to find the men and coin for three.
"Do you have more meetings today?" she asked as they went back to the room her father was using as his meeting chamber.
"I think I've met everyone here at least twice, so hopefully not. Do you have something you want to do?"
Cassana rubbed her fingers together. "Could we go up the Wall again?"
Father raised his eyebrows. "You want to go up again?"
She nodded. "Looking off the side was like looking down from a dragon must be."
"Well you'll have to have a rope around you then, one secured firmly at the other end. I won't have you falling off."
Cassana smiled and nodded. Father fretted fiercely that she'd fall off, even though she'd never slipped once on the ice of the wall. He'd even pretended to be too nervous to go within a yard of the edge himself to try to make her be more careful. She'd known better, of course, since father wasn't afraid of anything.
"Well, as you wish then."
However, when they reached the door, Samwell Tarly was waiting with a man in the unrelieved black of the Night's Watch.
"I beg your pardon," the fat boy said nervously. "I thought it best to wait here for you, your grace, rather than risk missing you on the way to the hall."
"That's probably good thinking, Sam." Father patted the boy on the shoulder. "I don't think I've met you before."
The Night's Watch brother dropped to one knee. "Mance Rayder, your grace."
"One of Jaremy Rykker's Rangers. One of the best, or so I hear."
Mance nodded as he rose. "I'm honoured that you know my name. May I speak to you in private, your grace?"
Her father scratched his chin, examining the man carefully, then nodded to Samwell, who unlocked the door. "You can have the afternoon to yourself, Sam. I don't have any duties for you until dinner."
"Thank you, your grace."
Cassana went through the door first and to the chair she used, out of the way to one side. Mance Rayder looked at her and then to father.
"I trust my daughter's discretion. You may do the same." Father sat down behind his desk. "So what brings you here, Mance Rayder?"
The ranger looked at Cassana again and then sighed. "Your grace, I know no other life than the Watch. I was born north of the Wall, to a Wildling woman killed on a ranging. The rangers brought me back and I grew up at the Wall."
Cassana leant forwards. So there were children here! Or at least there had been one.
"When I was of age I swore the oath. I joined the Rangers and I believe I have served well."
"You aren't the only one who believes that."
"Your grace, I knew nothing when I swore the oath. I had never been further south than the Gift." He laughed and shook his head. "I had barely ever even met a woman or a child."
"You aren't here on official business, are you Mance Ryder?"
Mance Ryder dropped to his knees. "Your grace, I beg a boon of you. Absolve me of my oath. I did not know what I was swearing to."
Under his breath, Cassana heard her father whisper a word her mother would have spanked her for using.