Chapter 36
LORD RANDALL TARLY
Randall Tarly was a man whose respect had to be earned. Just because one occupied a station higher than him did not mean the person deserved his respect in earnest. And so he had little respect for Mace Tyrell, and his blubbering ways, the Lord of Highgarden was a likeable man but with little of both political and military sense.
His mother, Lady Olenna, on the other hand, was a deft hand at politics. The infamous Queen of Thornes basically ruled over The Reach in her son's place and had managed to keep the kingdom at peace. There were others who had earned his respect as well: the Lord of the North, Tywin Lannister, and so forth.
And yet there was but one man that he did not just respect but feared in equal measure—Their King, Daemon Targaryen.
The young King had arisen to the throne after putting down a rebellion that had already been won, and yet he had singlehandedly changed the tides of the war. He had put down the rebellion that had nearly divided the realm and then had made sweeping changes across the realm that would reshape the realm for all the time to come.
The buildup of the Blackfyre forces across the Narrow Sea was a great concern for him, especially given that the campaign seemed to have access to an inordinate amount of money through the exiled Slave Masters which the House of the Blackfyre had employed to hire nearly ever respectable mercenary company on the other side of the Narrow Sea.
Their numbers were great, their inventory littered with castle forges swords and shields, and they had at their beck and call over five hundred ships. And yet, of all these things, he was more concerned about the other rumour that followed the Pretenders.
Rumors of a beast taking to the skies in the darkness of the night, its voluminous roars waking up the whole city. It was all very concerning, and yet the King had seemed rather nonchalant about it, and though preparations were made to prepare the capital to face such a might beast, in his mind they were not nearly enough.
And yet he would never question their King, for that was the one lesson Randall Tarly had learned over the years. That one did not question the King, not out of fear, for all the gossip, the King was not prone to the madness as his father had been.
But the King had plans, and one did not disturb the King's plans. No matter what.
"We have to move the Queen back to Kingslanding," Paxter Redwyne added. The man was commanding the Crown's navy, now stationed around Dragonstone and facing a constant onslaught from the Iron Islands.
"Those bastards are attacking us with no care for their lives. If the Queen is harmed, the King will have our heads," the man continued and it was true. They were stationed here for the protection of the Queen, the very Queen for whom the man had slain a dragon.
If anything happened to her, the King would have their heads.
"We have our orders. Protect Dragonstone, and we will do just that," he informed the master sailor who shook his head.
"I am not asking you to abandon the island, damn it. I am just asking you to evacuate the Queen to Kingsladning," the man shouted, and emotions ran high as Randall's lips thinned as he stared the man in the eye.
"Your grace's instructions were clear. The Queen shall give birth on Dragonstone, and we are to protect the island until he returns," he reported the King's words.
"Where did he even go at such crucial times? There are reports of massive clashes in Riverlands, while the Iron Islands have rebelled, and yet there is no sign of your grace," and that was a concern. It was not a good time for the King to disappear, and yet who could ever question a King?
"Let me talk to the Queen once," he finally acquiesced, and the man nodded as Randall Tarly left the solar and made his way towards the Queen's chambers, noticing suddenly how the maids and servants seemed to be rushing towards the very same room.
"What is going on?" he questioned one of the servants who turned towards him nervously.
"Her labors, the Queen's labors have begun," she answered as he let her go, his steps hurrying as he walked towards the Queen's chambers, thankfully meeting the only other person apart from the Queen who has the power to offset the King's decisions.
It was well known that King Daemon only ever changed his decisions because of two people. One was the Queen, and the other was his mother the dowager Queen, Lady Rhaella Targaryen.
"Your grace," he greeted the older woman, being pushed forth by a servant. Age had taken away her ability to stand, and she now needed to the help of a servant to move from one place to another.
"Lord Tarly, what brings you here?" she asked, softly, though he had learned enough over the years to not underestimate the old woman infront of him, given that she was one of the King's primary advisors, and held an incredible amount of sway at court despite her age.
"The island is under attack by the Greyjoy's who have declared support for the pretender's cause. Our forces are holding them off, but we believe it might be prudent to move the Queen back the Kingslanding," he informed her, and she was quiet for a second as screams filled the Hall, reminding him of times when his own lady wife had given birth.
"I am afraid that will not be possible now," she answered as her eyes turned towards the chambers to the side.
"Though I also believe such a step would hardly be necessary as well," she added making him frown.
"Why?" he asked, as she motioned for the servant to move her chair. Suddenly, she went past the door to the Queen's chambers and to the main balcony of the castle, one which oversaw the main shoreline.
He followed after her as she suddenly came to a halt near the edge, and in the distance, one could see the war in full as ships rammed into ships, and fires erupted all over the shoreline.
"Because Daemon is on his way," and he frowned, not understanding the meaning behind t when suddenly, he stilled as a cold shiver ran down his spine.
"ROAR!" The massive gurgling sound was enough to still his soul. He felt his worst nightmare come true, and his mind immediately thought back to all the rumors he had heard.
"GET TO THE SCORPIONS! MAKE READ...."
"There is no need," the Queen's words suddenly interrupted him. His head snapped towards her, and another roar shook the whole castle. The dowager Queen looked him in the eye.
"That is not an enemy," she said, and he watched as a massive beast flew right over the castle, roaring as it passed right over them and towards the shoreline, its massive wings arched over the clear blue skies.
"That is Daemon."
00000
EDDARD STARK
The North had changed quite a lot over the last decade, as the advancements mad in architecture and agriculture in the capital made their way to their lands. And though the land would never be as fertile as the Reach or the Riverlands, the North's ability to produce its own food had been greatly enhances over the years.
Their was a lack of diseases, and nearly a decade of peace had allowed the Kingdom to recover from the devastation that had threatened to decimate it in all its entirety.
And yet, of all, the North, the place that had changed the most, was none other than the Wall. Once a symbol of decrepitation and desolation, the Wall had seen much change over the years, and although of its twenty castles, only half had been recovered and were now manned by men of good repute, it was still a Stark difference from the days of the old.
And as he rode towards the Wall, his mind lingered on the danger that lay beside it.
Many had advised the King against supporting the Black Cloaks, given that a major number in them were from those who had chosen to rise up in rebellion against the King. There was genuine fear amongst the King's council that the sparks of the rebellion would reignite, with all the gold pouting into the wall.
Though they never really would, after all, they had another enemy waiting for them on the other side.
"So, they really are real," his advisor Jeor asked as they rode up in the life to the Castle Black.
"I am afraid they are," the man was one of his most Leal lords and amongst the few who knew of the true danger that lingered on the other side of the wall.
Life came to a halt, and they got off only to be greeted by a rather familiar face. His features reminded him of a friend long lost and all the potential and promise laid to waste nearly a decade ago.
Lord Stannis Baratheon, Robert's brother had found himself at the Wall a decade ago, for the crime of supporting his brother, and as the man's eyes landed on him, he saw his lips thin as the young lord's anger was palpable.
"Lord Stark," he greeted tersely, and in a way, his anger was justified. Of all the Houses that had risen up against the Mad King, the North and the Starks had gotten the lightest punishment.
"Lord Stannis," he greeted the young lord as he left the lift and made his way to the Lord Commander's solar.
The others around me were dressed in a similar fashion, in fine, thick black wools that had been sent by the King with steel swords tied to their belts.
"Have you been well, Lord Stannis?" he asked, but the man's face did not shift.
"As well as a man can be in this cold, wretched place," he answered.
"I kno..."
"We are here," the man cut in, as Eddard Stark found himself outside the solar of the Lord Commander of the Night's watch.
And with a knock, he entered the office, with only Jeor joining him. And in the solar, he was greeted by a very familiar face of his old mentor.
"Jon," he smiled at the man from the Vale, who rose from his seat and clasped his hand.
"Ned, it is so good to finally see you," the man said, as his blue eyes glinted in the night, the years and the cold had taken away from him his hair and a few fingers.
"It is good to see you again, Jon," he said; the man had joined the Night's Watch as penance and had risen up to become the Lord Commander in a few years, given that he was already a rather well respected and honourable man.
And it was because of him that they were at this junction.
"Is he here?" he asked and the man nodded as he pointed towards the side, and there sat another man, the only one not dressed in the Black of the Night Watch.
He was the most powerful man on the other side of the wall—The King Beyond the Wall.
"Let us not waste any more time, Lord Stark," the man began as he rose from his chair and walked forward.
"For time is of paramount importance, much like your own House words," the man who had over a hundred thousand Free Folk at his call began.
"...Winter is coming."
0000
On the other side of the Narrow Sea, Illyrio Mopatis ran through the streets of Pentosh in the cover of darkness as he tried to vanish into nothingness. The man lamented his fate, his failures.
All those years of planning, plotting, and gathering allies had gone to waste in one night, and now the very men who had once begged at his manse for his support and had tried to bribe him with gold and jewels for his daughter's hand-hunted him down like a dog.
And yet he would not fall. Never.
He would have his revenge, and as he entered one of his hidden manses and closed the door behind him, he stopped breathing laboriously, his body unused to such exertion.
"Those bastards!" he raged as he walked forward towards his room. All the ports were teeming with men sent by the salve masters, and he would need a few days to bribe his way out of the city. Until then, he would have to stay in this decrepit manse.
And he cursed everyone. Cursed that bastard King. Cursed his dead love, cursed his dead daughter as he walked towards his room, when suddenly a man emerged from the shadows.
"I am sorry...."
0000
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