Storm's End 307 AC.
Edric Baratheon.
He'd waved off the protests of Ser Andrew and his other advisers. Ignored their words of warning and their advice that told him not to do what he was about to. Their concerns and worries may be valid, but they were the concerns and worries of lesser men. Had this been another time and another place, then he'd still have been the meek and scared boy who did as he was told. Edric was no longer that boy and yet a little fear was a good thing to have.
His father had no doubt felt some of his own when he began his quest for the Iron Throne. Jon Arryn and others close to him had no doubt told him what would happen should he lose and yet, his father marched, fought, and won. He was nothing if not his father's son and in proving that, Edric had done something even his father hadn't been able to accomplish, he'd taken a wolf for his bride. Their union would be a song that was sung even more truly than those of the dragons. The story that would be spread from kingdom to kingdom would one day be as famous as Florian and Jonquil. Not that Edric was under any illusions that he and Sansa Stark were some great love story.
While he did have feelings for the woman and her beauty did make him wish to bed her, he doubted that he'd ever keep to one bed during a marriage to any woman. He was his father's son, after all, he through with a wry smile. It was her name and the symbol that their marriage would send that truly excited him, even if he wished that he'd approached her before she'd fallen so far from grace. Had she still been Lady of Winterfell, then they'd have two kingdoms to their name straight away. Three or mayhap even four with her uncle and cousin taken into account. Though Robin Arryn's death was something he both welcomed and very much did not at the same time.
Alas, he'd set his sights higher and Sansa had tried to take on the dragons alone. She'd tried and failed and though that should give him pause, it very much did not. A woman alone was never going to be able to take down the Targaryens and stop them from creating a dynasty to rival the one that had come before them. No, just as it had been needed to take down Aerys and see Rhaegar Targaryen in the ground, it would again take a union of wolf and stag. As he stood and buttoned up his coat, Edric vowed that just like his father had done, he too would put a dragon in the ground.
"My Lord, it's time." Ser Triston said and Edric turned and nodded to the older man.
"Ser Andrew is with my bride?" he asked as they walked from his chambers.
"He is, my lord. He awaits your signal."
"Send it," he said firmly and Ser Triston left his side allowing him to walk to the Sept alone.
It was a large wedding despite the worries that Ser Andrew and others had expressed. Edric had refused to listen to them when they had told him that if he was set on this course of actions, it would be for the best to be done in secret. They had completely missed the point of things. The realm had to be aware of the wedding. It needed to be able to look and see the alternative to the dragons that sat on the throne. All its lords and ladies had to be aware that there was a better choice to name as king and queen and so his Bannermen had been called and the ravens were ready to fly bearing the news.
His betrothed had worried somewhat about how open he was being as well. Though she'd welcomed it too given how much more intense their kisses had become. She'd confided in him about the sentence that Jon Snow had given her and the restrictions that he'd placed upon her. Her words had both infuriated and invigorated him at the same time, for they were very much similar to a different sentence a dragon king had wished to impose. His father and her own had a death sentence placed upon their heads should they not do as Aerys had demanded of them.
Was this not the same?
Could it not be sold as being so?
Did it not make his challenge even more just?
Did it not show that one dragon was very much like another?
Edric believed the answer to all those questions was yes and so he'd told her so. Sansa had quickly agreed with him and it was from that point onward that things had changed between them somewhat. For while he may never love her, he believed that she'd fallen for him. In her eyes, he believed he'd seen the truth and in how she almost willed him to take her before they were wed, he believed it showed it to be so.
Smiling to himself, he strode into the Sept and made his way to the front, where the Septon greeted him with a polite bow of his head. Ser Triston soon joined him and was bearing the wedding cloak in his hands as he did so. It was the same one that his uncle Renly had placed on Margaery Tyrell's shoulders and the only one remaining that belonged to his House. His father's had been destroyed in King's Landing and what had happened to his uncle Stannis' one, he cared not. Edric had taken it still being intact as a sign and had ignored the small voice in his head which bid him look closer at just what that sign portended.
He was lost in his thoughts when Sansa and Ser Andrew arrived and had it not been for Ser Triston's touch on his shoulder, he may have still been so while she walked towards him. Turning to look at her as she neared him, Edric felt his breath hitch at the sight she presented. Never before had he seen such a beautiful woman before, nor had he wanted anyone as much as he did right then. Sansa wore a white silken dress that showed every single curve of her body and yet covered up her skin completely. She looked like a gift from the gods and the closer she got to him, the more transfixed he became by the sight of her.
"We are here today to join Lord Edric Baratheon and Lady Sansa Stark in the bonds of marriage. A sacred and true bond that only the gods themselves can break. Lord Edric, Lady Sansa." the Septon said and Edric reached out to take Sansa's hand to lead her forward. So that they could both kneel and he could remove the maiden cloak from her shoulders.
She shivered at his touch and then smiled beamingly at him when he offered her his own smile. When he stepped forward, she did so without hesitation and when he squeezed her hand, she did so to his own in return. He bid her kneel with his eyes and then untied the cloak and took it off her, and then the full truth of just how incredible she looked in her dress was now clear to see. Her eyes were on his when he placed the wedding cloak on her shoulders and they never left them until he took his place beside her.
What words the Septon uttered as he placed the oil on their foreheads, went unheard by him and he'd wager Sansa too. Her hand reached out for his eagerly when he rose and helped her to her feet and as he took the ribbon and tied it around both their hands, neither of them saw anything else but the other. Her blue eyes were glistening with tears of joy and her smile was full and true. Yet all Edric could see was her lips and the way her tongue would slightly brush over them from time to time. So lost was he once again in his thoughts, these ones far more lascivious than the earlier ones, that he almost missed saying the words, and only hearing Sansa do so, did he not.
"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am his and he is mine, From this day, until the end of my days. " Sansa's words filled his heart with something he'd not known before and made his own sound and feel that much more true.
Leaning forward, the world around him stilled as he kissed her lips and though it was but a brief one, it was one filled with the promise of what was to come. Again the Septon's words went unheard by him and it was only after they'd left the Sept and were making their way to the feast, that he felt able to concentrate or think about anything but he night to come. He would need to take note of how those in the room truly felt about his marriage and his bride, he would need to make sure they were or would be as resolved as he. For while tonight he'd lay with his wife, on the morrow word would have reached those around the realm and a war would have begun. A war that would, as his father's had before him, bring him a crown and see him named a king.
Winterfell 307 AC.
Arya.
This had never been the life she'd wished for, nor was it something she'd ever expected would come to pass. Not even in her darkest days after her father, mother and brother had been murdered and she'd been alone and scared, had she ever even considered this. Never in any of her plans for vengeance and justice did she imagine herself leading the North as its Warden. Not even in order to see that vengeance and justice enacted against those who'd taken her family from her.
In her mind, it had always been Bran or Rickon, Sansa, and more often than not, Jon, who led the North while she would be a lone wolf who'd seek her own small piece of what was owed to her. Or she'd be by any or all of their sides while they led the fight that brought them all they wished for. Over time, as she got older, wiser, and more traveled, Arya refined her thinking. She would take blood and breath from those who'd harmed her family and would then see her family restored to their rightful place, though it was never to be a place where she would stay for long. Now it was to be a place where she grew old and eventually died and she wasn't sure how she truly felt about it.
In King's Landing, she'd listened as Davos had advised her and she hoped that in the days, weeks, moons, and years to come that she'd remember that simple advice. On the ship, as they sailed to White Harbor, she'd spent more time with her babe than thinking about what her life would soon consist of. Even after they arrived in the city and they were feted and feasted by Lord Wyman and she was named the Lady of Winterfell and Warden of the North by good and true men that had once followed her father into war, Arya thought little on what was to come.
Her conversations with Lord Wyman were a front that she put up. Her ideas and thoughts for the future of the North were not her own and had come from conversations she'd had with Jon about what the North needed. Conversations that had taken place when she had no intent to be the one who'd need to set those policies in motion. Briefly, she'd considered giving it all up and asking Gendry to take her somewhere far from here, only to then look to her son and understand that it was more for him than for her that she was doing what she now was.
" One day you'll rule over all these lands as its Warden, my son. When that day comes I promise there will be no man better prepared or no lands more protected and ready for any threat it faces than you or these," she whispered softly to Robb as he lay in his makeshift crib.
Lord Wyman had welcomed her plans, had begun to make moves on some of his own, and was more than pleased with the coin she handed him to see certain things were done and done quickly. A northern fleet was to be built, one that was ostensibly for trade but was ready for war. Never again would the North be a land with no true naval power and in the world that her brother, Goodsister, and niece were building, trade with Essos would be more than open to the North under hers and then Robb's rule.
In Wyman Manderly she'd found a man that her brother trusted and so one that she could too. A man who had not only given up the role that Jon had given him without any question, but who'd done so happily. He'd confided in her that it had felt wrong for him to not serve a Stark and for the North to be a land devoid of wolves. Something that had pleased her and yet not at the same time. For it made her remember that Nymeria was out there somewhere living the free life that Arya had once desired more than anything in the world.
They were now a little over a day away from Winterfell and she knew these lands well. So after making sure that Robb was warm and comfortable and checking that Gendry was actually asleep, she dressed and walked from the tent. Sandor was by her side in the blink of an eye and though she frowned at him, both he and she knew it was but a front. As they walked side by side in silence, she felt something call to her, a presence she had felt only once in the last few years and it bid her come to and come now.
"I need to go alone," she said turning to Sandor.
"Go fucking where?"
"She's here. Nymeria is here," she said excitedly.
"Fucking Wolf Girl," Sandor muttered under his breath though she barely heard him as she was long gone by that point.
Arya ran as if she was a girl and not a woman grown. The years seemed to simply fade away as she dodged branches that stuck out and though she couldn't see her face, she had no need to do so in order to know she wore a smile. She felt as she once had many years earlier. Around her, trees seemed larger and she was somehow smaller and she then heard voices that she'd not heard in many a year.
" ARYA STARK COME HERE AT ONCE."
" ARYAAA HOW COULD YOU"
" No tears now, little wolf."
" I can so climb the Broken Tower."
" Can I have that oat cake?"
" I can't, go ask Jon, Theon and I are going riding."
" In trouble again, little sister. Aye, you can come with me."
The smile on her face still remained, even as she felt her tears fall. Ghosts and echoes of the past filled her head as she ran. Memories of days long since passed and even the sad ones were now happy to her. Her mother's disappointment, Sansa's outrage, her father's steadfastness, Bran's optimism, Rickon's innocence, Robb's disinterest, and Jon's love. She felt each of them was encapsulated in those simple words and memories and she missed those who were no longer here and those she was now parted from.
"Nymeria." she said when she saw the great wolf, her golden eyes looking right back at her as Arya stopped running "I missed you, girl," she said softly as she approached and then stood no more than a foot from her.
Those golden eyes looked her up and down and then Arya laughed loudly as she felt the tongue on her face. When Nymeria turned to walk away from her, Arya felt her heart drop somewhat, only for the grey wolf to turn its head and look her way and bid her follow. Without a single thought, she moved after Nymeria and they walked no more than a few feet to a covered bush. She heard them before she saw them, and the four Direwolves were no bigger than pups. Three were grey and one was black and Arya felt herself begin to choke up at the sight of them.
"These are yours, aren't they?" she asked and felt Nymeria's tongue lick her face once more "You're a mother just as I am."
She carried one wolf in her arms as she walked back to the camp. Beside her, Nymeria and three others walked and it was Sandor that she met first of all. Arya cared not for the huff that came from him, nor for the shake of his head and mutterings of "Wolf Girl" under his breath. When she reached her tent, she turned to look to Nymeria who she swore simply nodded her head, and then Arya entered while still carrying the Direwolf pup. Who the other three were for, she knew not, though had she been thinking clearly, then the thoughts of having three more babes may have made her worry. Instead, as she introduced Robb to his Direwolf, she found that she had the same amount of worries she once had as a much younger girl, none.
One day later.
The grey walls loomed largely and yet they cast no shadow over her. She felt their warmth and their strength and she welcomed each of those things. They entered the courtyard to see the entire household lined up along with Lady Maege Mormont and her daughter who'd traveled to greet her according to what Lord Wyman had said. It was good that she was here as they had much to speak on. As she did with the Castellan of Winterfell Eddison Tollet, the soon-to-be Lord of the Dreadfort and a man her bother trusted with his life and who now, so would she.
She saw the eyes of those present turn to look at the wolves. The approval in those eyes which were directed just as much at her, Gendry, and Robb as they were at Nymeria and her litter. Arya carried Robb in her arms and that was her only concession to being a woman and lady. Needle was still on her hip as was the Catspaw, while she wore britches and armor and the warm look that Lyanna Mormont bore on her unusually stoic face, showed she approved, as did her mother. Given that both of them were dressed much the same, that wasn't a huge surprise.
Arya knew what propriety called for, how she was supposed to be addressed and welcomed, and how she was supposed to act. Looking around the courtyard, she could see that each and every single one of those watching her, did so with that in mind. Looking up to the walkway, her breath stilled in her mouth as she saw them all standing there. Bran, Rickon, Robb, her mother, and father, all of them like those below them watched and waited to see what kind of lady she was and she knew then what she needed to do. Stopping her walk towards Eddison Tollet and Lady Maege, Arya turned to those who stood around the courtyard, then with a look at Robb, she readied to speak.
"I am Arya Stark of Winterfell. The Warden of the North. This is my son and heir Robb Stark and my husband Gendry. Most of you have bled with my House through betrayals, invasions, wars, and cruel men who took from you far too much. I now make you all this vow. Any who dare threaten you or the North will feel my wrath and the wrath of House Stark. Wolves rule here once more and I promise you, that I consider each and every one of you as members of my pack. So any who dare to harm you will find my bite to be true and their lives to be forfeit."
Nymeria moved closer to her and with her free hand, Arya rubbed her fur near the neck. The four Direwolf pups formed an honor guard around her, Gendry and Robb. Robb's own wolf was closest of all to her and to its mother. As Arya looked to the walkway and watched the ghosts of her family fade away, she longed to call out and beg them to stay and yet knew it was beyond her or their power to do so. Rickon, Bran, Robb, and then her mother all offered her what looked to be nods and soon it was only her father who stood there.
He wore a smile that she had rarely seen him wear. A look of approval on his face that she remembered seeing only when she'd hit the target in her archery and it was just he and her alone in the yard.
"When the snows fall and the white wind blows, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives. Remember well those words and together we will face and beat anything this world throws at us. As your Lady and your Warden, know that I too remember those words, and I am no lone wolf."
A smile, a nod of his head, and then he too was gone. The ghosts of the past had finally been laid to rest, and now it was time to think only of the future. So after greeting Edd, who'd bid her name him so, then doing likewise with Lady Maege and Lady Lyanna. After hearing about the feast that was to be held that night in her honor and knowing that it was not something that she could forgo, Arya bid Sandor to see to the defenses and the guards and to sort quarters out for those who'd traveled with her. She then walked with Gendry to her own rooms, before heading to her solar to ready to begin her new role and see if there was anything pressing that she needed to know.
She gave Edd the papers which named him Lord of the Dreadfort and told him of the coin that Jon had given her so he could see to its upkeep and ready it for his new seat. Then she spoke to Maege about forming some sort of army of the North. An army that she asked the Lady of Bear Island to be in charge of and see trained. Most of her day though was spent sitting at a desk and looking over figures in a ledger and thanking the Old Gods that she'd always been good at her sums. Just as she was readying to go to her rooms and make ready for the night's feast, the raven arrived. Arya looked it over and felt her anger rise at each word it contained.
"Sansa, what have you done." she said as Nymeria moved to her and licked her hand, her golden eyes staring deep into Arya's grey ones "Aye, you're right. She's not a wolf anymore."
Norvos 307 AC.
Belicho.
He had expected complete clarity and so was disappointed to find that while he could foresee certain events, not all were open to him. An army marched from Volantis with but one purpose, to bring about his end. Belicho could see the army, see the dragons and the one who led them, and yet he couldn't see his victory or defeat. Only the ground that the battle was to be fought upon was known to him. That and the need for more meat for his army.
The entire city of Norvos was now under his thrall. A full day and night, not that either was truly different any longer, where death had triumphed over life had seen that so. Few had escaped from the city with their lives and soon they'd find there was no place in Essos or Westeros for them to hide from him. For it was not just these lands that Belicho intended to rule over after all. Yet he needed more and so he was faced with a question he'd not yet found the answer to. Which way was he to march?
A voice inside him, one that he'd once known to be his own, bid him march north. To Lorath and Braavos, and to take both cities for his own before then and only then, looking south. That voice was shouted down by a much louder one that demanded that he end the one remaining threat to the empire he'd rule over. It bid him march south to Qohor, to arrive at the city long before the dragons did, and that it and the army he'd already gathered would be more than enough. This was the voice he listened to and so he called his generals to him and bid them make ready.
Belicho knew the living had needs. They would tire, rest, eat and be slow while his army would march relentlessly. Qohor would be no threat to him and would fall quickly and once it had, he'd see it rise again. Though this time it would not be the Black Goat or the Red God that they worshipped or sacrificed to on the Black Altar, it would be the Bloodstone Emperor that they'd swear all oaths to. He that they'd be bonded to for eternity.
" You're making a mistake."
" You're underestimating your enemy."
" Just as you did in Westeros."
" He moves as quickly as you do and so you need more to beat him."
He waved away the voice, ignored it, and moved through the temple and then down the steps to where his mount awaited. The horse was large and imposing, even as its dead flesh fell from its bones. Belicho mounted it and it walked slowly through the mass of dead men, women, and children that all were his now. There was no look at any of them, nor at his generals who were interspersed among his army on their own dead mounts, instead, his eyes looked forward and only forward.
Images of the battle to come came to him as he rode away from the city. Not of his army fighting the one that marched towards it or the dragons that flew his way, but of the true battle. A fight one-on-one to decide the fate of all living things. A fight that he would win. He saw an icy blade face off against a fiery one, figures moving too fast for the eye to truly see and in the end, only one of them was left standing. Again though, much to his annoyance, he saw not which one of them that was.
Hours and days passed and yet he was the only one in his army that knew that was so. Not even his generals were aware of the passage of time or what it meant. As for his army, they knew only one thing now, their purpose. They were to kill the living and that was all, a simple task for simple minds. Fight until the fight was done, march until they were bid to stop, and obey above all else. No needs, wants, demands or requests would Belicho tolerate anymore and it had been that which had truly set him on this path so many years before.
Turning his mind away from days long ago, he sought out the days to come. His enemy marched with speed and resoluteness and with some ingenuity too. Ships had been used to cover the distance more quickly and for the first time, Belicho felt a stab of fear deep in what had once been his heart. Where before there was a certainty, now there flickered some doubt, and the voice which he'd kept at bay, now began to speak once more.
" North not south."
" Away and not towards".
" You're not ready yet."
" You have more time."
" Turn back now."
As before, he ignored that voice and instead listened to the louder one. Its words were more comforting and more true and so it was they which made more sense to follow.
" Each one of his that falls will be yours."
" His power is not a match for yours."
" Dragons can and will fall."
" Your destiny awaits you."
Destiny had been something he'd believed he'd had for many a year. A destiny larger than any of his family had ever known. He was not destined to live and die as a Triarch. To be one of three who didn't truly rule was never going to be enough for him. Had the others ever truly considered his wish to see Volantis rule over all of Essos, then even that in time would not have been enough for him. For he had no wish to share with anyone and Essos alone would never have contained his ambitions. Ambitions that had led him to the Church of Starry Wisdom and to the true secrets hidden there.
It had been destiny that had led him to the book. The same destiny which led him to the first of the stones and had seen him rise to be named as High Priest. Destiny had led him to discover what none before him had known and to the location of the rest of the pieces of the Black Stone. Afterward, it was destiny that had shown him the truth of what each piece did and had then set him on this path. Marching now, he marched to finally fulfill his destiny once and for all.
" You are destined to rule over all."
" Destined to bring death not just to these lands but those further away."
" Westeros."
" Sothoryos."
" Ulthos."
" Planetos."
" You are destined to be emperor over all life."
" You are destined to fight and kill the Dragon King."
" Fulfil your destiny as you have on each step of your journey."
The trees that marked the beginning of the Forest of Qohor came into view and Belicho smiled to himself. He was right to march south. Right not to doubt himself. For to march north was a craven act and he was afraid of no living thing. His path had led him here and it had been one he'd walked for many years. He'd waited long enough to fulfill his destiny and to become who he was always born to be. Looking up at the blood moon, he willed the dragons to come, the army to come, him to come.
"Our destiny is to face each other, Dragon King, my destiny is to end yours," he said to himself as he raised his icy blade and directed his army forward.
Ghoyan Drohe 307 AC.
Ned Dayne.
He had done his best to comfort one princess while really wishing to and then finally getting the chance to comfort another. Princess Arianne had been both furious for and worried about her mother and he and Ser Daemon had done their best to be there for her. When she'd asked him to see to the men of Dorne, he'd done so immediately and found them to be more than ready for the fight to come. Though in truth it wasn't actually the fight that threatened their morale or risked robbing them of their courage. The darkness of the night and its never-ending nature would be what was the reason for either.
After seeing to his countrymen, it had been to the princess he truly wanted to spend time with that he went to. Ned was lucky enough to find her by her dragon's side, where she spent much of her time. With a nod to Ser Jaime, he moved behind her and waited for her to notice him. Upon hearing the sniffling sound of her soft sobs, he placed his arms around her and felt her lean back into his touch. Just the feel of her in his arms along with the smell of her hair was enough to ensure that his own resolve never wavered.
"I find at times that despite how brave I wish to be, my courage deserts me," Rhaenys said softly.
"As it does us all, Rhaenys. His grace said something to me once, something his uncle would say which I find is as good as any in making moments like this fade away."
"I'm surprised at that, Aegon rarely speaks well on his uncle."
"True. This though is something that I think he feels apt."
"What is it?" she asked as she moved from his embrace to face him.
"You can only be truly brave when you're afraid," Ned said, though that wasn't actually the way the king had spoken the words to him.
"And you? Are you scared?" Rhaenys asked, her hand now touching his cheek and Ned leaning into that touch.
"No, I'm resolved. I have faith in my king and queen." he said as he took her face in his hands and tilted her head so she was looking directly into his eyes "And my princess."
Who kissed who, he knew or cared not. It was what both needed and it went on for some time. Had it not been for the cough from Ser Jaime, then they may have forgotten where they were or who might see them. Not that either was hiding their affections when around others, but more they did it sometimes when Aegon was close by. Something he was now.
"I thought I'd find you here." Aegon's voice called out from behind them.
"You were looking for us?" Rhaenys asked.
"Aye, it's time to scout ahead and Dany is with Rhaella. Ned can come to if he wishes."
"I was…" he began only for Rhaenys to look at him and his words turned to a nod instead of an excuse.
As Ser Jaime joined Aegon on Rhaegal, he climbed up behind Rhaenys on Balerion and though he didn't hear the word that came from her lips, he knew that word by heart now. For they'd flown together more than once. Usually to find somewhere private that they could be alone together, but on scouting trips like this too. Though thus far those had only been with the queen and not the king. Mayhap that was why he felt a little more nervous this time, or mayhap it was that they were moving ever closer to the battle that they marched to.
Seeing Lightbringer be unsheathed and its light beginning to shine, Ned covered his eyes. Despite torches, fires, and even the magic used by the red priests and priestesses, his world like everyone else's was one of darkness now. It had been more than two weeks of solid night. Nights that even when the stars or moon shone were as dark as Dark can be. So his and others' eyes had adapted and yet when Lightbringer was wielded, it was almost day once more.
Rhaegal flew ahead of them, the light from the king's sword shone like a beacon and it made following the green dragon an easy thing to do. When it was pointed towards the ground, Lightbringer acted almost like a torch in a dark tunnel and allowed them to see what lay beneath them. Which for now was thankfully nothing at all, other than sand and dust. They were still some miles from Qohor and that was where the battle looked to be fought. Yet they couldn't take a chance of being ambushed before they got there and in the darkness of the night, they'd not see one coming. That was the reason for these scouting missions, to make sure no enemy lay in wait in the darkness and Lightbringer worked so much better than a dragon's flames in that regard.
"He's landing," Rhaenys said confused and Ned watched as Rhaegal landed on a high cliff that was now lit up as if the sun shone down upon it.
"Do we do the same?" he asked but Rhaenys had already bid Balerion land and so his question had already been answered.
The wave of flame caught them both by surprise and it took them a moment to see what it was that Rhaegal had attacked. Instinctively his hand went to Dawn, only for the smell of burning meat and the happy laugh that came from Rhaenys to tell him that it was food and not an enemy that Rhaegal had found. Soon enough both the green and the blue dragons were eating their fill and after climbing down off the dragon's back, he and Rhaenys walked to where Aegon and Ser Jaime stood.
"We're but days away," Aegon said as he drove Lightbringer into the ground, its light now dimmed but still shining and illuminating all around it.
"Has Lady Malora or Kinvara seen anything more?" Rhaenys asked.
"A battle with no outcome known to them. One that will decide the fate of Essos and beyond. Cryptic words and fewer answers." Aegon said frustratedly.
"Aegon?" Rhaenys asked worriedly.
"I will win, we will win. I doubt it not….but…"
Over the moons and now close to two years that he'd come to know the king, Ned felt he'd gotten a decent insight into how Aegon Targaryen's mind worked. Looking at him now, he knew something was about to be said that had been his true intent for this flight. Steeling himself, he moved closer to Rhaenys and waited for the king to speak.
"If the battle goes badly and if things looked lost. Then I need you both to promise me something."
"Aegon.." Rhaenys moved to take her brother's hand in hers.
"Promise me, Rhae, Ned….I need your oath on this or I fear I'll not have the resolve to do what must be done."
"Anything, Egg, anything you need of me," Rhaenys said determinedly.
"Me too, your grace."
"Aegon, Ned. Make your promise to me as a man and not a king."
"Aegon," he said to a small nod of Aegon's head.
"If things go badly… if it looks lost… should I or Dany not be able… you take Rhaella and you fly to Westeros. You ready them for what's to come and you fucking fly as fast as you can away from here."
"Egg…"
"Promise me this, I beg of you, promise me this."
The light from the king's sword began to flare up and Ned swore that he could see tears in Aegon's eyes as he pleaded with his sister to give him her word. When it came, it was immediately followed by his own, and rarely if ever had Ned seen such relief on someone's face as he did right then. Then in the blink of an eye, the man that Aegon had just been was now gone and in his stead, the king had returned.
"I will beat them, I will end him. I am ready." Aegon said before he hugged his sister and then moved to embrace him as a brother by choice if not one by blood.
Ned saw Rhaenys wipe her own eyes and he wished to go to her, but Aegon held him firmly and he whispered words in his ear that once he was finished uttering, Ned knew he had no choice but to adhere to.
"With my life, your grace."
The flight back to their camp was a quick one and once they reached it, Aegon left him, Ser Jaime, and Rhaenys to make their way back alone. Rhaegal and Balerion had carried back food for Drogon and Lyarhaex and the two dragons now ate their fare hungrily. When Rhaenys reached out her hand for his, he gave it gladly and they walked back to the camp hand in hand.
"What did my brother ask you?"
"To protect you above all."
"He…"
"Will win, as he has up to now. This is not the end of our story."
"No, it's just the beginning."
They were married the next day or night. Time no longer had any true meaning and it was something that they both wished for. Originally they'd planned to wait, to wed once the battle was done and though they both believed they would win, life was too damn short and too full of unknowns to leave it up to fate or chance. Aegon acted like a different man. He was happy and jovial and he behaved as if he hadn't a care in the world. Whether he truly felt that way or did so for his sister and wife's sakes, Ned couldn't be sure. Though he believed that whatever doubts the king had, were doubts that he held no more.
Laying in his bed with his new wife, Ned felt no such doubts. Whatever he needed to do to keep her safe was what he would do. Nothing and no one would take her from him, on that he vowed and as he finally drifted off to sleep, he whispered almost the same promise to her that he had made to Aegon.
"With my life, my love."
Ghoyan Drohe 307 AC.
Tormund.
There was something off with his friend. Each time he looked his way or was around him, Tormund could sense it. Try as he might to make him laugh or not think too much about the battle to come, it was still there regardless. Not his wife, sister, his time with Ghost or his dragon, and not even when Tormund would see him hold his babe in his hands, could he see Jon Snow be at peace. Given what they were marching to face and their experiences of what sort of battle that would truly be, he could understand it somewhat. Yet even then, Jon Snow had seemed far more assured than he was now.
Biding his time, Tormund watched and waited. He drank with the Dothraki and to all he looked as if he was his normal self, but in truth, his attention was always on Jon Snow's actions. On the sixth day of their march, he could wait no longer and so when his friend headed to where the dragons rested, Tormund followed after him. He found him there speaking softly to the Green Dragon, the big lady standing as his guard and she offered him a small bow of her head as he walked by her and stood next to his friend.
Jon was speaking words that Tormund knew not. The same words that he'd hear the Dragonqueen speak from time to time as well as the cockless soldiers and some of those who named this land their own. His hands were brushing softly over the dragon's head and while Jon was still not fully at peace, this was as close as he'd seen him be so these past few days. Listening to the sounds that came from the Green Dragon, it was clear that it was very much welcoming his friend's words and touch and so Tormund waited until he was noticed before moving forward.
"Stealth is not your talent, Tormund," Jon said with a half chuckle.
"I was built for power, not for speed nor sneaking around," he replied.
Even in the darkness, he could see the circles under Jon Snow's eyes. The tiredness in them reminded him very much of how he'd looked when he'd been brought back from the dead. It was a rare sight that he'd not seen much of since the Dragonqueen had come into Jon's life. One that took him back to the battle they fought in before they ended that Bolton cunt, and it was not one he liked seeing now or then.
"Speak to me." he said bluntly "Tell me what I can do." he pleaded.
"Would you leave if I asked you?" Jon asked surprising him completely and Tormund shook his head almost instinctively "Aye, I didn't think so." the soft smile on his friend's face belied the weariness that the words were spoken with.
He heard the loud sigh and then was bid to follow while the big lady was sent back to camp. They walked around the edges of the camp, while the torches that burned offered them some light but not enough. Beside him, Jon seemed to almost be taking in each and every face he saw, and seeing this, Tormund truly began to worry. If Jon Snow doubted they could win then they were truly fucked. Yet he was soon to find it was not that which worried his friend, or not truly that.
"I never fear a fight, you know that," Jon said after some time walking together.
"Aye, I know."
"From Hardhome to Winterfell, King's Landing, and to here. Not once have I been afraid of not seeing it through to its end. Nor have I worried about falling. I shouldn't be here and so each day I've woken and felt my heartbeat and took a breath deep into my lungs, has been a day more than I was owed."
"Jon…."
"When I met my wife. When I realized I loved her with all I am. I worried then. Not for me, but for her and for what may happen to her should I fall. When I got Arya back, when I was finally reunited with the little girl who I loved with all I was, I worried then. Rhaenys, meeting her and knowing deep in my heart that she was truly my sister, I worried then. I worry for my family and those I care about Tormund. I worry for you, my friend. And yet…."
Tormund was stunned to see Jon Snow wipe his eyes and he almost turned away to give him some privacy. Seeing the look on his face when he did not, Tormund wished he had. For if before he'd thought he looked lost, now he looked broken.
"My daughter, Tormund. Rhaella….each night I try to sleep and when I do the dreams begin and they are worse than any nightmare I could ever imagine. I can almost live with the loss of every single person I love, but the loss of her… I….it threatens to break me. The mere fucking thought of it threatens to break me."
They were standing by a tree and Tormund looked on as Jon Snow began to pound it with his fists. The anguished sounds that came from his mouth as he did so were ones that almost brought a tear to Tormund's own eyes and would have done had he not needed to remain stoic. Instead, he waited until his friend had punched himself out, then placed a hand on his shoulder and led him to some raised ground a little distance away. Helping Jon to sit, he took a seat beside him and was grateful to see Ghost move and lay down next to them.
"You know the little She-Bear is mine, right?" he asked to a nod of Jon's head "I felt it too, you know. The fear you're feeling. Each time I looked at her as the dead marched I felt it. Then a fucking dead giant attacked and I saw it come close to ending her….it almost….." he stopped and composed himself and found Jon Snow looking at him keenly "You want to know what I felt in that moment?"
"Aye."
"Rage. Pure fucking rage and it was a beautiful thing, Jon, a truly beautiful thing, for it gave me the strength to face a giant and to save my little girl." he snarled.
"I seek that for myself, Tormund. I know it's in me, I've loosed it before, and yet each time I seek it, my fear is all I find."
"Ask of me whatever you need, Jon. Bid me do whatever it is that removes some of that fear from your heart."
"I…"
"I'll stay with her, I'll not fight against the dead unless they come our way," Tormund said when Jon couldn't speak the words.
"I've asked my sister and Ned Dayne to take her from the field should things go wrong. You'll go with them?"
"Aye, I'll go."
He looked on as Jon rose to his feet and then helped him to his own. His friend then embraced him and whispered in his ear before they walked back to the camp. Jon was not fully himself but he was far more of it than he had been and over the next few days, Tormund felt he was as close to being so as he was likely to be.
The night before they reached Qohor, he drank and made as merry as he could. On the morrow, they'd be facing a battle for their very lives and one were were again led by Jon Snow. For the first time almost since he met him, it would not be a battle that Tormund was fighting in. As the night or day, or whatever this was, stretched on, Tormund drank more and more. He laughed and japed with the Dothraki and with others, even getting into a pissing contest with Daario Naharis before the man made his way to his bed with the Ironborn woman. At one point the found himself drinking with the Dornishmen and being asked question after question.
"Why are you here, Giantsbane?" a Dornish soldier asked.
"Because the others have no ale left." he laughed.
"No truly, why are you here? You could be Beyond the Wall with your people or safe and sound in Westeros. You follow no king, queen, or princess and so it's not any orders that have brought you to this land. So what is it? What makes you want to fight in a battle such as the one we're about to have?" the soldier asked and around the fire that they sat at, the faces all now turned his way.
"Jon Snow is my friend."
"Seven hells, Giantsbane, I have hundreds of friends." one of the Dornishman said to loud laughs.
"I don't."
He woke with a sore head the next morning and after breaking his fast, he made his way to the tent that Jon Snow, the Dragonqueen, and their babe named for their own. It was Jon who left the tent first and the man who did so was not the man he'd spoken to some nights before. This was the man he'd followed again and again and he pitied the fool who dared to try and stop him now. No words were spoken between them, none needed to be as they'd said all they needed and Jon Snow had made his feelings clear. Tormund remembered those words now as he watched his friend walk away for hopefully not the last time.
" No man could have ever asked for a truer friend and no man has been as lucky as I in finding one. Thank you, my friend, for all of it."
Qohor 307 AC.
Aegon Targaryen.
The fear had come out of nowhere. It had crept up on him like an unseen enemy and one he was unprepared for. At times it threatened to overwhelm and more than once, he'd felt himself close to collapse. One moment, he was looking at his daughter and laughing at her antics, the next he was seeing his nightmares come true and they terrified him. Dany had noticed before anyone else and had done all she could to reassure him and yet it had not been enough. Aegon had needed more and so it had been to Ned Dayne and Rhaenys and finally to Tormund that he'd gone to.
Once they'd given him their words, things became far more manageable. He'd been able to put on a mummer's face when dealing with his men and only those who truly knew him knew that was what he'd been doing. At night, he'd spend time with those who marched with him and act as if he was unconcerned by the army they would soon be facing. He'd jape, tell tales, speak of what was to come once they won, and not once did he allow them to think that he feared a defeat and what that would mean.
He spoke to both Lady Malora and Lady Kinvara and had them seek out any answers they could find. Told them to call upon the gods they served and to bid them for their favor in the battle to come and he hoped that he held that favor still. After speaking to his sister and then watching her wed, Aegon felt his resolve strengthen. Once Tormund had spoken the words that he knew his truest friend would live or die by, he'd felt another piece, of the man he needed to be, fall into place. When he and Dany lay together, he'd forget all doubts and even that they marched to a war that he knew not the outcome to. A war that was so very different from the one he'd fought in the North or even the South and was it not for Rhaenys, then he may very well have added the doubt about ever coming to Essos to those few that he still held within himself.
Flying brought him his greatest comfort and especially when he did so with Rhaella in front of him on Rhaegal. His daughter was fearless and Aegon so very much wished to be as brave as she. She'd laugh as they soared through the dark night's sky, call for her mother when she saw her and Drogon fly close to them, and shout out Lyarhaex's name in her own imitable way.
" Rhax….Rhax."
Each time she did so would bring a smile to his face and add resolve to his heart. The thing they marched to face wished to take this from him, to take her and her mother from him. If Aegon failed to stop him, then in time, Dany, Rhaella, Rhaenys, Arya, Robb, Tormund, Davos, each and every single person that he cared about would fall. So failure was not an option for him and despite his fears, worries, and doubts, it was soon not even something he'd contemplate.
To say that his wife was comforted by him once again being the man she knew he was, was an understatement. Dany had gone through her own worries and doubts and Aegon had been the cause of most of them. After putting Rhaella to bed, he turned to his wife and found her eyes to be on him as much as they were on his daughter. Seeing the concern that she had in those eyes, he offered her his warmest smile and then reached out his hand to lead her to their bed.
He helped her to undress slowly and though they lay together, it was more for comfort than pleasure. Not that there wasn't pleasure in the act too, but the closer they got to Qohor, then the less even doing so took their minds off what they'd soon face. Looking at her, his fingers brushed her hair from her face and he felt her lean into his touch.
"Forgive me," he said softly.
"Aegon?"
"I got so lost in mine own fears and doubts that I was not here to chase away yours, my love."
"Are your own gone now?" Dany asked.
"Mostly. I will beat him, Dany. He will fall to my sword and his army to our dragons and our own. Nothing will stop me from ending him and just as in Winterfell, we will see the sun rise and know its light once more. Our daughter will grow up in a world of sunshine and peace, I vow it on the Old Gods and the New. On Fire and Blood."
"Fire and Blood," she said before she kissed him.
They looked at each other in silence for the next few moments. Both of them sought the words to tell how they truly felt about each other and for some time neither of them found them. It was a strange thing, as since he'd woken from his dream on the ship to White Harbor all those years ago, he'd not needed to seek those words at all. Instead, they'd simply flowed from him, and during their time together, he'd become somewhat a poet and a bard when expressing his love for his wife. Dany too was not shy in telling him how she truly felt and yet, for now, they both seemed to have lost their tongues.
"I…" both of them said at the same time, their laughs then ringing out around the tent.
"Never did I imagine a life such as this. Not even in my wildest dreams did I think the gods would gift me so. We have known the days, my love. Days unlike all the ones that came before them, days that I hold deep within my heart. Each and every single one of them that I've spent with you is one that I treasure more than any that I spent up to then. You saved me, Dany. You made my heart beat and it was only with you that I was ever truly alive. I love you with all that I am. My love, my heart, my wife."
His fingers brushed over her closed eyes as she fought back the tears that he knew were present in his own eyes too. Her words back to him were ones that managed to take away the very last doubt that he had. They fuelled him, strengthened him, and after they had lain together once more, they allowed him to sleep a peaceful and dream-filled sleep. A sleep that showed him the truth of what he was fighting for and why defeat wasn't an option.
Aegon awoke early the next morning and he was not the only one to do so. Rhaella too woke almost at the same time as him and so while Dany slept, he and his daughter spent the first part of the morning sitting on the floor of their tent and playing childish games. He was chided, slapped, and hit with wooden toys when his attention drifted and each and every single moment was one that he locked in his memory. When Dany finally awoke, they waited until she was dressed and then they broke their fast as a family.
They were in the final stretch of their march. Qohor hadn't fallen yet according to both Lady Malora and Lady Kinvara and he took some comfort in that. As he did in finding that while Belicho and his army were here, they were not yet in a position to threaten the city or his army. Deciding to scout on ahead just to make certain, he and Rhaegal took to the sky while Rhaenys flew behind him on Balerion as an escort. Once he had established just where their enemy was, they then flew back to the army and he did so knowing that on the morrow he'd be facing the most important battle of his life.
"Give me the strength to end him, and should anyone need to fall, then let it be and not them. I am and have been your most faithful servant, I beg of you to grant me your favor once more." his words went unheard by any but Rhaegal, and by the time they landed, he was a warrior king once more.