Summary:
Benjen's party arrives at the Wall. Arya celebrates her nameday and finally starts training with a sword. Willas and the silver haired Targaryens travel to Dorne and the Tyrell heir speaks with Oberyn. Maester Aemon has a dream come true. Robb reflects on the changes in Winterfell.
Notes:
This is slightly a filler chapter, a lot of minor plot points. Mainly just character and world building really. It is still pretty important though.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Benjen:
What was he doing?
As the party neared the Castle Black after two days of riding Benjen could not help but doubt his choices. Admittedly he is as much a prisoner as the wildling, even with an injured member the three others had the numbers and skills to keep both Benjen and the wildling princess in check. Not to mention they carried bows.
When he and his men saw the fire in the distance that day he expected to come across other brothers of the Watch or a wildling camp. Instead he saw four nobles surrounded by wildlings and corpses. He and his men took action which resulted in death. Had he read the situation correctly would they still live?
Now here he returns to his station, brotherless and accompanying their killers. What would the men think?
For a wildling the princess was surprisingly well behaved, whether that was her nature or because of her status as a prisoner, he did not know. Her relation to the new King Beyond the Wall will have to remain tight lipped, the men would do despicable things should they know or simply kill her. The only ones Ben could trust with her identity were those riding with him, the maester and the Ol' Bear. Her beauty would do her no good either, she was shockingly similar in appearance to the only other fair haired woman of the party.
While the potential threat against his life was a good enough motivation to follow the plan the mysterious group put forth, it was the two other dark haired individuals that had the greater effect on Benjen. On occasion he glanced at the injured man, Benjen did not see Jael but his nephew and everytime it would cause panic to flare inside him. It was odd since the man had very close trimmed facial hair and was nearer in age to Benjen than Jon. He shared his hair with the youngest girl, both long, dark, and wavy, exactly the same as Ben's nephew and sole sister, though Jon had the shortest hair of the four.
The girl was a skinchanger, they all were. Benjen thinks Lyanna would have loved to have the ability. He had not believed such magic truly existed, he knew giants, mammoths and direwolves existed but they were living beings just as the dragons were. Skinchanging was different, the transforming into the beasts was obviously myth, but he believed skinchangers in reality were simply capable of befriending animals, not entering their minds like some of the legends. But if the group was not lying about the Others then a lot of legends are more accurate than people believe.
All four of the group were an oddity. They were skilled, skinchangers, knowledgeable, and carried Valyrian steel and weirwood. The two men carried longbows and the women smaller hunting bows, two of a black material that was not ironwood and two weirwood, one of each bow type. One Valyrian steel knife is notable, but four hewing spears made completely of the rare metal or other precious materials in the same location, much less a single family. Who were these people?
"Are all kneeler women so touchy or is it just your sister?" The wildling princess' voice pulled him out of his thoughts. She was seated on a horse behind Varon. They were not sleeping at night as supposedly the Others value the mysterious group dead over their aversion to fire so they were rotating sleeping on their travels.
Dalla, the wildling's conversation partner and his own passenger laughed. "Gods no. Southern women are often prudish bitches. That one is just clingy. Even at her age she forces our father to carry her around on his back as if she is still a child. And we are not kneelers." She kept her voice low to keep her sister who was a fair distance ahead of them from hearing.
The response amused the princess but the last comment intrigued her. "Do you not kneel for your king?"
Following a dignified huff, Dalla responded. "We kneel before no one. No more than you or any of the Freefolk do." The comment was akin to treason, and if the Night's Watch was not politically neutral then it may have been Benjen's duty to capture her, not that he was in a position that was possible.
"I'm starting to like you four." The two blonde womens conversation continued until the group neared the gate to Castle Black.
The single blow of the horn signaled his return. Guiding his horse past Shireen and a now awake Jael to take the lead before entering the gate. As they rode through each of the three iron gates the men manning them gave the party curious or lustful looks.
"Ice!" The cry of Jael's returned raven echoed through the tunnel sharply and caused a deep groan in the Wall itself. The raven had returned a few hours before their arrival and its master awoke at the same time.
Each of the group of four looked extremely stressed since the moment they entered the tunnel and rather than eye the men who eyed them, they glared at the ceiling of the tunnel. Five spears were being gripped tightly even Jael held his like a lance in his right hand.
Emerging on the other side the light was near blinding. As they entered the courtyard he felt the stares of every single brother. Looking to the catwalk from the Lord Commander's Tower Benjen meets eyes with the leader of the Night's Watch.
The Lord Commander scaled down the stairs, his eyes took in the party of six and their animal companions. His own pet raven sat on his shoulder.
"Jeor!" the raven on Jael's spear announced to the yard as if it identified the man. Jeor's raven repeated the call.
Giving an amused grunt, the Old Bear rolled his eyes. "I assume you have a tale to tell Stark." Gesturing to the rest of the group.
Right now Benjen could get his captors killed, no longer was he outnumbered. But his men died to save four of them and they were valuable to prevent a war with the wildlings and to prepare against the Others, if there was one. "Aye. A rather grand one at that. But this one took an arrow and should get looked at by the Maester first."
Taking in Jael's bandaged torso, Jeor nodded. He also eyed the ripples of the Valyrian steel spears, of anyone at Castle Black he would know the steel when he sees it. "Take the group to the maester then come to my quarters." Turning the man left them to return to his chambers.
His party slid off their saddles all while never letting their guards down. Benjen commanded a few of the fresher members of the watch to manage the horses. Motioning, the group followed him.
"Where'd Stark find those three beauts?"
"Twins too. Mmm."
"Bet they're good at handlin' spears."
"That one is a wildling, I tell ya."
"Is that ah bloody shadowcat cub?"
"Wat is she fuckin' doing wit it?"
"Look at that one! Luckiest damn rodent I ever done seen!"
They overheard many conversations of lude natures, those who had some semblance of shame at least whispered but that did not hide their roaming eyes or stares. Times like these were when Benjen was ashamed to call these men brothers. Many were criminals of some of the worst inclinations but Benjen joined voluntarily because of his guilt.
Soon but not soon enough they were before the maester's doors. Benjen knocked on the door and awaited a response. Following Aemon's soft call he entered and ushered the others inside. "Maester, I have someone that needs to be treated. Four others will look after them but I must debrief the Lord Commander. I'll leave them in your care."
The old man was sat by the fire warming his old bones. Fires were not common enough at the Wall but the dragon still lived far beyond his time, perhaps just waiting to meet his kind just once more. "Yes, Stark, I'll see to it, what I can. Now, go and see to your own duties."
As the elderly man made to stand, Varon quickly made to the Targaryen's side. "A hand, Maester?" He laid a hand over Aemon's.
"Yes, thank you. I don't believe we have met." Aemon stood with the aid of the blonde man.
Benjen slipped out as they began to converse.
Sitting before Jeor Mormont in absolute silence was not the same as it was when they were drinking ale. This is a great deal worse. Waiting as the Mormont processed all that happened on the First Ranger's mission.
The Lord Commander's heavy sigh broke the silence. "I wouldn't believe you if I was not a Northman and you not a Stark. You truly believe the corpses were fallen wights." At Benjen's affirmative he continued. "It makes sense. The whole lot of it. A seven hundred foot tall wall to keep back savages. If the giants help build it why are they on that side. Our vows, everything."
Benjen felt himself relax. His superior had not pressed on the deaths of his men for which Ben was thankful for, his guilt was enough, it was always enough. "What are you going to do?"
"That, I do not know Stark. What else did they say about the Others and the wights?" Jeor looked partly defeated, the Old Bear was tough but he had less than a thousand men. Facing the wildlings and the Others would be impossible on their own.
With everything that happened and all that he learned recalling the little details was a challenge but Benjen was able to remember. "Fire, Varon mentioned that fire kills the thralls. They also mentioned White Walkers have an aversion to flames. He claimed the Others wanted the four dead."
Everything mentioned piqued Jeors interests. "Why is that?"
He shrugged. "They didn't say. They held back a lot of information. They claimed to have killed a Walker, it was how they convinced the wildling to come. She wanted to know how they did so as much as we do. Now that I think about it, the wights that the group killed were not burnt so they must know another way to kill them as well.
Stroking his beard like a wiseman, Jeor hummed. "Stay with the group, try to learn more. They seem to be acting in our interest. Represent me in the negotiations with your brother and the king. We can't fight these threats alone. I'll have our men range with torches at night. We cannot lose more men right now. It does us no harm to believe in this magical threat but we need proof."
"The king?"
Jeor's eyes widened for a split second before he gave a gruff chuckle. "Oh yes, I forgot to tell you. A raven from Winterfell came while you were away. Jon Arryn has passed and the king rides for Winterfell. You will represent the Watch during his stay in the North. So you may be in your brother's castle for longer than you might wish."
Ned and he have rarely conversed since Benjen confessed about Harrenhall and Lyanna. He came to this wall of ice as a self punishment and Ned let him. Not even a man grown, still a green boy who experienced so little and the last of his family let him go without fight. Benjen was still a little bitter about it, he kept their silence mostly out of pettiness but he would like to see his nieces and nephews once again.
If there was one thing the group of four he found made him feel, it was the desire to see Jon at least one more time.
Arya:
Today was the day! Today she would finally be able to practice with a sword, a wooden practice sword but still! This completely overshadowed any excitement she would have felt for any other aspects to her nameday.
The Septa woke her up on time just as she requested, she would not be sleeping in but break her fast then go to the yard! The relationship between the two had improved over the last fortnight, Arya made the septa look like a good teacher and Arya got to do what she wanted if she didn't get caught.
Dressing for a day in the yard, Arya was in breeches which she made. They were not as well made as Sansa or Cailin might have made but they looked good by Arya's standards. Septa Mordane even complimented her on them!
Her mother though slightly conflicted about her deal with the septa was grateful at her being more ladylike and behaving on occasion. Though practicing in the yard was still something Mother did not wish for her. She had tried to prohibit Arya from sparring once the king arrived but Sauna had put an end to that by asking why they should value Robert or the Lannister's thoughts. The women of the North were strong.
A knock on the door snapped her out of her thoughts. Was she late for breaking her fast? Panicking she ran to the door and swung it open to reveal Jon.
His dark eyes were wide in surprise and he was carrying a wrap of cloth. After the shock faded he smiled that smile that used to only be reserved for her. It hurt a bit that more people were receiving that smile but how much better both their lives were getting lessened that pain. "Ten! Happy nameday, Little Sister!" He hugged her and lifted her back into her room kicking the door closed. "I have a present for you." Setting her down.
She stared at the long object wrapped in cloth. "What is it?"
Presenting the wrap before her on his knee like one might before a king or lord, he grinned at her. "Find out. Unwrap it."
Peeling back the wool carefully as the present rested freely in his hands. Underneath the cloth was a small sword! It was so thin even while sheathed! Lifting it up she found it light even for her. The handle and sheath were made of smooth grey leather and well sized for her small growing hands. Drawing the blade slowly in awe as Jon watched her face amused. "It is so thin!"
"Like you," Jon teased. "I had Cass make this, when I brought it up, she said I gifted you one similar last time and it saved you many times. It won't be much against a knight in armor but poke them in the right spots quick enough you'll be safe, you can do that."
When she moved to embrace him, he backed up and gave her and the blade a look. "Oh." Realizing her mistake she sheathed the blade carefully, set it down on her bed and jumped at him. "Thank you!"
He chuckled with her giggles. "Remember to be very careful with it. Don't want to lose any fingers, do we?" When she shook her head into his shoulder he asked: "Ready for your first day of lessons?"
"More than ready!" And she was, she has been begging since Bran first started.
"Would you like your first lesson here?" She answered him with a nod. He smiled at her, "Stick them with the pointy end."
She whacked him, because he deserved it. "I know which end to use. Even needles have a correct end to use."
A knowing look crossed his face. "You know Cass told me the name of the original, can you guess?"
Looking at the sheathed sword she recalled what she just said, "Needle!"
Smiling at her, he nodded. "I'm sure the septa and your mother will be thrilled when they find out."
That sobered her excitement, if her mother finds out she will most certainly take it away even if she is training. "When they find out?"
"If you don't want them to know then you best keep it hidden. Anyway, we best go and break our fast, give your stomach time to settle before you hit the yard."
Hiding the sword under her bed, she ran to where he waited by the door. When they left Arya felt today was where her life would change.
After breaking their fast with plenty of happy nameday wishes from everyone, they went to the yard where Cass and Jonnel had them do drills to start like any other day which was disappointing.
But soon enough Cass was before her, handing her a wooden blade. It was not particularly heavy but when she held the blade with both hands out horizontally she could feel its weight much better only then did it become heavy.
Cass laughed, "I picked a heavier but similar in size sword for you to practice your swings. These have more weight than a true sword so you gain some strength." She pinched the tip of the sword. "Is this a great sword?"
Arya looked at her like she was stupid. "No." Her tone was a bit rude but Cass just smirked.
"Then why do you hold it like one." The woman flicked Arya's right hand hard enough to release the blade from its grip.
The blade sagged towards the ground. "Because it is heavy."
Raising an eyebrow Cass poked her arm. "If it is not heavy in too arms how are you to gain the strength to hold it in one?" Next she pulled the sword to rest in the pit of her arm making the sword weightless in Arya's hold. The arm she flick Arya with came up and pushed Arya's fingers around. "No need to hold so tight, imagine climbing trees, hold tight enough to be sturdy but not hurt or strain your hands."
Suddenly Cassana twisted to the side, pulling Arya. With her grip on the sword she stumbled but did not fall. "What was tha-" Before Arya could finish her complaint she was whipped around again.
"Good grip and good balance, dancing has helped." Releasing the blade from the lock between her arm and torso. "Now show me your fighting stance." She tisked at Arya's stance. "And this is a one handed sword and you have no shield so turn sideways so you are both a smaller target and so you have better maneuverability of the blade. Good."
The rest of the time in the yard was spent like that, Cassana slowly introducing more and more things and correcting the wrong ideas Arya had. Despite her arms getting sore she enjoyed every minute of it. Cassana definity did not have to carry her to the keep on her back.
Supper was rather conservative, Father said they did not wish to run low on their stores for the king. It was still wonderful, her favorites were made. This year they did not invite any bannermen like they occasionally did. Either way she still got plenty of gifts.
Her mother and Sansa actually gave her gifts she liked for once. Sansa made her a cloak like their father wore with all six of the direwolves running embroidered on the front of the crossing leather strips. A warm surcoat of white and greys was Mother's gift. Last year Arya was sure Sansa got her sewing tools just because she knew Arya would not want them so Sansa herself could keep them.
Theon gifted her a small bow which earned him a scowl from her mother but Father allowed Arya to keep it. She thanked both. Arya was already a better archer than Bran just because of a few odd lessons from the Greyjoy though she was older than him by a few years. This bow like all others she had used was fitted to her strength so she certainly would not be hitting targets at thirty paces much less a hundred.
The next notable gift was Brynnard's who promised to give her skinchanginging lessons which was probably her favorite gift after Jon and Cass'. She did not even know you can know skinchanging was real much less that she was a warg. Turns out a warg is the term for a skinchanger bonded with a dog, wolf or direwolf. It gave her daydreams of her riding a grown Nymeria like Visenya on Vhagar with her new sword in hand.
Even though they were not Arya's favorite, lemon cakes were made for dessert. Not that she would complain she enjoyed them well enough, there was also the enjoyment that every piece that she ate, Sansa did not get. Everyone got two pieces but Arya, who got a third for it being her nameday.
When Jon made to eat his second he paused and addressed Sansa who looked at him expectantly from his other side with an empty plate. Sighing, he set down the piece. "You know, I like sweets too." At her whine, he groaned. "Fine." He was a softy and a traitor!
Right before Arya could call him out, half a piece was placed on her plate. Arya looked over at Sansa's and found she too had a new half piece. At least Arya still had a whole piece more than her sister!
Jon leaned back in his seat away from his empty plate. "It was Arya's nameday she had to have the most," he justified to both of the girls.
Arya smiled, doubting that would be enough to convince Sansa but when she looked over after a bite she almost choked. Sansa was smiling sweetly at Jon, she looked at him like- like-, Arya did not know what, just that it was gross.
Despite that moment, this year was easily her favorite nameday.
Willas:
As Willas had believed, getting a ship was easy. More accurately, his family already had the ship. So a short ride to the docks along the Mander and they were off. To exactly where they were heading in Dorne other than Sunspear he had yet to be informed.
The two girls were at the tip of the boat. Haella sang sea shanties and other songs that charmed the crew. Her sister sat painting a landscape based on their time sailing down the river. Admittedly the girls were very very talented at their different knacks. For a girl of eleven, Maenara was already comparable to some lesser painters.
Unlike his two sisters, Aemon was not the outgoing type. Willas felt a kinship to the man beyond simply being his uncle. The two had a similar nature, both being more knowledgeable people rather than physical. If Willas was not crippled, he imagines they'd be even more alike.
Moving over to the edge of the boatdeck where the Aemon was currently lost in his thoughts, Willas bumped shoulders with the Targaryen. "Would you like to tell me where exactly we are making stops, the captain would appreciate it." They had just passed Blackcrown, Oldtown, and the Three Towers, and on the morrow they would be past the Arbor. Since they left a sennight after Margaery they would reach Sunspear a few days before the other group reached Winterfell.
A chuckle emanated from his nephew. "I suppose. Unless you wish to visit the woman who you marry in our time then our only stop is Sunspear."
That caught him off guard. They had been focused on marrying Margaery and keeping Willas available for other alliances. At three and twenty he was getting rather old to be unmarried and without an heir. "My wife?"
"Well not yet, possibly never. I believe currently she is betrothed to a Marcher Lord. Allyria Dayne, the younger sister of Arthur and Ashara Dayne. Of age with you." Aemon gave Willas an understanding look.
A fair match. Even his grandmother and father might like it, the Daynes are one of the strongest houses in Dorne and are of the First Men and hold to many of their customs. They are also said to be beautiful. It would be possible to negotiate a dismissal of the previous betrothal, a Marcher Lord versus a future Lord Paramount of the Mander. "Anything more you can tell me?"
Smiling teasingly, Aemon did as he asked. "Fair sandy blonde hair, with beautiful indigo eyes. She is a smart woman who is her nephew's regent while he is squiring for her betrothed. Knowledgeable of many of the secrets of the rebellion. Bests you at cyvasse. You two have a happy marriage with three children, the eldest is a woman named Olenna who is much more pleasant than her namesake."
For a normally sensible man such as himself the desire to stop by Starfall was oddly a bit tempting. What would his family think if he did so? More importantly, would he come to regret if he does not interfere? "How did I come to marry her, if she is betrothed?" Of course it is likely her betrothed died.
Aemon just confirmed his suspicions, "Beric Dondarrion was killed... Many times actually. Like we mentioned there are multiple ways one can come back to life. You met after the wars. " His explanation was somber. "If you wish to leave them be, Arianne Martell is an option. Though she is not a maiden and the marriage would prevent my own wife from being born."
Willas had heard of the Princess of Dorne's promiscuity, it was a reputation his family did not wish to have attached to the Tyrell name. If he was the type he may have pursued her just for carnal pleasures during the trip but he was not that kind of man. "You and a Martell? Did you get there first?" That was rude. He should not have assumed, to his knowledge only two of the Martells were so lusty.
"Aye, Meria Martell. She is not much like her mother, outside her looks at least." While looking dreamily out at the sea, Willas had a feeling that Aemon was seeing the girl rather than reality. Margaery's frown appeared on the prince's face. "She probably won't be born in this time. I probably will not be either. The odds are miniscule."
He had nothing to say to that. The odds were low. Willas now had his own quandaries to think on regarding the future. A family that could or would exist, their fate rests in his hands. It would be best if he focused on their purpose in Dorne rather than possibilities. "I'll tell the captain to dock us at Sunspear."
Dorne was hot and dry, even for a Reachman. His nephew took to it well, though that was likely due to Aemon's Martell wife. Everyone else seemed to suffer from the heat.
As the ship neared their destination Willas could make out the orange and red banners of House Martell, his letter was clearly received. Oberyn awaited them. With the Red Viper were presumably his niece, daughters and paramour.
Not waiting for the sailors and dockhands to tie the ship down, Oberyn jumped the gap impatiently. With his arms wide he sauntered across the shipdeck towards Willas. "To whom do I owe the pleasure of a visit from the wise Willas Tyrell?"
"Can I not visit a friend? I had the spontaneous desire to see some of the world, a task that has become much harder since a certain man impaired me."
Oberyn's grin only widened, though his eyes showed some guilt. "Have I rubbed off on you so? Willas Tyrell traveling spontaneously." The mischievous glint returned. "I'm sure this has little to do with our great king's decision to head to the North following the death of the hand." Perceptive as always.
Shaking his head in a negative, Willas replied, "I'm actually here to purchase some of the finest glass in the realm."
But Oberyn did not hear his words. Following the Viper's eyes to the silver haired siblings. Those black voids narrowed and his brow scrunched. When Aemon turned the Dornish prince inhaled sharply. "Who are they?"
The coloring of the group prevented them from many different cover stories, the violet eyes of the two girls prevented them from claiming them as his mother's bastard nieces and nephew. "Former slaves from Lys, a family. Each has a talent. The man is good with numbers. The elder girl sings better than anyone I have ever heard, ask the crew. The younger one is a painter, she wished to stay with her siblings and see more of the world to better her art."
Turning his head back in Willas' direction, Oberyn split his attention. He was intrigued. Lya claimed Aemon looked like Rhaegar so it was no wonder for his curiosity. Both Aemon and Maenara despite being a few years too young could still be mistaken for Viserys and Daenerys, Oberyn would be one to notice that. "And how did they enter your service? I would not expect you or your father to purchase them."
"Through my uncle Humfrey, they were on the streets of Oldtown after earning their freedom when he saw their talent. Sent them to Highgarden. You surely know how my father likes entertainment," Willas explained.
Giving a hum, Oberyn was not completely convinced but he would not be Oberyn if he was. "A good find."
Catching sight of the bright Martell banners over the ship's side, he realized how rude they were being. "Are you going to introduce me to your family? I would quite like to be on steady ground."
That comment made Oberyn's eyes twinkle. "Yes, some of them have been itching to meet you. I'm afraid you won't find much to be steady in Dorne. We are as shifting as the sands." He jumped down the gangplank, showing off.
Rolling his eyes, Willas could not help but be jealous of such mobility. His descent was much slower. Shoving away Oberyn's offered hand he followed the man to the family.
"My niece, the heir to Dorne, Princess Arianne." Oberyn gestured to the woman.
The princess was beautiful, curvaceous and short. She was the type of beauty that filled a man with lust. Her garb exposed a healthy midsection. "Welcome to Dorne, Lord Tyrell. When I was a girl I wished to meet you so bad my cousin and I rode all the way to the Mander before my uncle here caught me." Her full lips parted in a smile to reveal white teeth.
Willas gave a soft chuckle at the story, which certainly stroked his confidence. "A shame, one more thing to hold over his head. My childhood certainly would have been brighter had you been in it." He always enjoyed flirting, it was just another type of word game.
A pink tongue wetted her lips. She stepped aside to continue the introductions. "Oberyn's lover, Ellaria Sand. My cousins: Obara, Nymeria, Tyene, Elia, Obella, Dorea, and Loreza." When she was done she looked back to him. She smiled again but paused when her attention shifted over his shoulder. "Who are they?"
Glancing over his shoulder Willas saw Aemon, Haella and Maenara striding down the dock towards them. Turning back to the Martells and Sands, "These are Mons, Haella, and Nara. Mons is my assistant. He shall be delivering my order and payment to the glass merchant a fair ride south of here. My leg makes it difficult to ride such distances."
Oberyn perked up. "Ah, the one in the fine manse between here and Planky Town. I've heard their glass is nearly as fine as Myrish. They only take orders from a property in Planky Town. Easier to sail down, though riding a Sandstead across the coast is a fine experience. I'd be tempted to join for the experience and to see this glass myself. But alas I have been put in charge of this keep and these ones would cause it to collapse should I leave. And you may never leave if I let them get their hands on you."
He ignored the last part. "They shall ride. I'd like their opinion on these Dornish horses. Now, there are some matters I would like to discuss privately after I see them off."
Maester Aemon:
"Maester, you are a Targaryen are you not?" The inflection in Aemon's patient's voice told that he already knew the answer.
Aemon quite liked the man and his siblings, they helped around as Aemon checked over the injured one. Though the group had convinced him to dismiss Clydas and Chett, now he knew why. "I am. One of few left."
The man hummed a dismissing tone. He flinched as Aemon's old fingers glided over his injured shoulder blade. The arrow head had pierced through the bone and a web of fractures stemmed around the hole. It was likely he would never fully recover. After a soft couple of curses, he spoke, "Maester, have you ever heard of someone traveling through time? Past or future."
As someone who studied the higher mysteries and earned a link of Valyrian steel, he was one of the best suited men to answer the question. "I cannot say I have, the closest I could say would be the greenseers of the children of the forest and the first men or the dreamers of Valyria. Both groups have visions of the past, present and future." Had Aemon had the ability to a better clarity, perhaps his family would not be so scarce.
"...And if those two lines were to merge? Do you believe it to be possible?"
They had once, Aemon came to the Wall with the very man. Brynden Rivers had been capable of many things but not such, as far as Aemon knew. The man was of ice and fire, his coloring was the very proof, but he was not the prince. "What is possible and what is not has either been forgotten or never learned. The higher mysteries are called such for a reason."
Once again the man hummed, this time in agreement. He was silent for nearly the rest of the procedure. "Hmm… Kill the boy and let the man be born."
Aemon's hands paused as he moved to grab the bandages. Egg. The last and only man, Aemon had ever said the words to. "H-How do you know those words." They were last spoken nearly five-and-sixty years prior to this moment.
The other man, the one that helped him rise from his chair when Benjen Stark brought them here, did the reverse and moved Aemon to a chair. "You tell our father," he explained quietly.
Tell not told. The traveling through time query, the mention of the merging lines, the Targaryen question. They did it. They were not from Aemon's time. Incredible. "Who are you?"
Footsteps approach slowly accompanied with soft sighs, whines and grunts. A gentle hand with long delicate fingers grasp his own and raise it until Aemon feels skin below his fingertips. Benjen's hairline, a smooth straight forehead, straight brows like Stark's, long lashes, a narrow straight nose, high cheekbones both Valyrian, and downturned lips on a long face. In a whisper, "Don't repeat this name: Valstark." He paused before speaking at a conversational volume. "My name is Jael, Valstark," the repeated name was added in a whisper, kept hidden from the wildling woman.
Rhaegar's line, the Stark girl had a child. Another child of ice and fire, of the First Men and Valyria. These were Rhaegar's grandchildren, Aemon was far too old to meet another generation of Targaryens. Rhaegar had a son and Aemon meet him! "And the others?"
"Varon." The other man.
"Dalla." The soft spoken woman. She reminded the maester of his eldest sister Daella both in name and temperament.
"Shireen." The excitable woman.
"...Val." The wildling. The siblings' mother. If they wished to keep that fact hidden for now, he would respect that.
Tears were beginning to form in his eyes. Oh how long had Aemon longed to see another of his kin, that would be one wish not granted but this was just was good. His sight was long gone but meeting them would be a cherished memory. Time bent a knee to these children. They may not have the name but they were Targaryens. Egg's legacy.
"My eyes like my father, grandfather and great grandmother, are of a dark violet. From the Daynes, we believe. Dalla has the traditional eyes of our family. The other two have our mother's blue." Jael's description did make those tears fall. Aemon could still remember those eyes, his brother had their mother's, whilst Aemon had their father's.
A cloth caught each droplet as they rolled down his cheeks. Dalla's warm voice came, "When Jael is well we must continue to Winterfell but we shall return if we are still here. You will still be here, ice shall preserve your fire. Mayhaps we shall be accompanied by our father, uncle and aunt. For now though we are here." Oh, how Aemon would love her suggestion. "We'd love to take you with us if we could."
It was little matter to him. He was old and his greatest wish had been granted, he could die a happy man. Six-and-forty years he had gone without being near his kin, a week with these children would last him another decade, should he live that long.
The children spent much of their time with Aemon but they always traveled as a group, a wise decision. They were given duties to earn the hospitality of the Watch but when done they spent what they could with Aemon and he appreciated it. Aemon had told them that first day; Jael would be fit enough to travel after a sennight's worth of healing.
Currently it was not the time travelers and their ignorant mother who were visiting his chambers but the Lord Commander and First Ranger. Jeor looked to be in a foul mood. "What is your knowledge of the White Walkers and wights?
Myths and legends were not a topic Aemon had expected to discuss with the two more practical leaders of the Watch. "Much as you know. Stories told to scare boys. Their connection with the Long Night and the Last Hero. May I know why you ask?"
Benjen replied, "The group I brought back they linger with you. Have they mentioned anything about the topic?"
"Not on such a topic. They are fine people, keep me company. One of the girls reads to me." Aemon did not lie, the group had not brought up the topic. He did omit their relation to him and their…displacement.
The First Ranger sighed, "They claim the Others have returned and the wildling supports this claim, says her people want on our side of the Wall for shelter and safety. The bodies I found them with seemed to corroborate their words, all of them had blue eyes though not glowing."
Aemon frowned, the return of the Others meant he and Rhaegar were right in one regard perhaps a second if this second son is the Prince Who Was Promised. "And you seek to prepare for the threat?"
"Of course. It'd be easier if they told us all they know but they are holding back to force the wildling to negotiate with Eddard Stark. She is Mance Rayder's good-sister." Huffing, Jeor complained. "At least they told just how to kill the wights, though not all if Benjen is correct."
It was a smart political move on the time traveler's part, Aemon recognized. He also noted that they do not actively try to withhold information that is vital to the Watch. Aemon also saw the chance to do something he had wished to be done. "Perhaps a deal could be made. They are forcing the wildling woman but not us. If you want their knowledge, buying it may be an option."
Jeor grumbled. "You know as well as I, we cannot afford doing so."
"The library. I'm blind and have other duties. As it stands, those books are decaying. Have them transferred to Winterfell's library. I'm sure I could convince the group to agree to such terms. Though their knowledge would have to be kept from the wildling." Aemon felt that the group would have revealed the information anyway but if war was coming for the Wall best get that knowledge safe. The men may take to burning books for shelter if the snows fall harsh for too long.
It did not take long for the two other leaders to agree. Jeor nodded and addressed Aemon once again. "If you can convince them. Their chores will be cleaning out the library and preparing a cart if they agree. I don't see what they get out of it but we aren't losing much."
A day later, Jeor, Jael and Aemon sat in the Lord Commander's chambers. Jeor leaned on his desk, "Tell us what you know."
"Where to start? A lot to cover." Jael grimaced as he shifted in his seat. Benjen had taken the injured man's place to help protect the women while Jael was away.
"How to kill them. Everything else you know about them."
Following a big sigh Jael responded. "Dragonglass or obsidian. Besides fire that is the most abundant material for killing wights. Wildfire as well. Steel fairs well enough if you dismember wights though their number can make that hard. White Walkers can only be killed with dragonglass, Valyrian steel, or dragonfire of a well grown dragon, all of which also work on the thralls."
Fire and ice, Aemon thought once again.
Jeor did not seem amused. "Ain't that dandy. At least I'll be surviving the Long Night. Where in seven hells can I find enough dragonglass or dragons?"
"Dragonstone, Skagos, Valyria," Jael listed. Locations with volcanoes. "Continuing on. It should be noted that the Others are not limited to men that they can enthrall. Any beasts are possible, they mount direwolves, bears, horses, even dragons if they can find a dead one or kill one. They could have collected tens of millions of wights of just men over the years. To prevent being resurrected, bodies must be burnt. There are other obscure methods."
Everything said was not good news. Aemon observed the dread on Jeor's face. "Anything else?"
Jael nodded. "The unnatural glow of wights' eyes disappears when they are killed. The armor and blades of the Others can shatter standard steel. They require human babes for reproduction. They are intelligent and have greenseers just as men or the children of the forest do." He gulped before adding his final comment. "The Wall is not made of ice and certainly not hundreds of feet tall."
Both Aemon and Jeor paled at that. Though that came the question of how it got so tall. Though Aemon imagines that thousands of years on fresh snows building, melting and freezing might come to form similar. And if magic is involved then perhaps. The children of the forest seemed more connected to earthen nature magics than any other. The Others' domain was ice.
"Fucking hell," Jeor cursed.
Robb:
Jon sat on a horse as well as anyone in Winterfell or better but Robb had him beaten with a lance by far. Though that could be explained by Jon's lack of effort in learning the skill. While Robb would be practicing with rings or Jory, Jon would usually keep to the yard and hone his blade. His brother held to their father's beliefs about tourneys, not to reveal one's skills for praise and glory.
Robb believed there was more to it though, many bastards have become tourney knights and Jon could make a fair one. If there were tourneys in the North or if it would not cost Robb his future master at arms he might have said so but that was before. Jousting was an expensive skill, from armor to horses to lances, it hinged on winning. Sometimes Robb felt his mother may have interfered, Father might not have stopped her from doing so. If that was the case Jon had enough excuses to show an apparent disinterest, from: "A lance can only be used once in a charge, a sword can cut a hundred enemies in a single battle." or "I'd rather use steel than big sticks." and Robb's favorite: "I'm a Northman Robb. We don't prance around for gold like Southron."
The children from the future did not have the same taste, Jonnel all but forced them to practice together. Robb believed he just liked to knock Robb and Jon on their arses. Jousting had become another big subject they were to learn. He reminded them that tourneys are good for commerce, morale and a testing of skills. Jonnel shot down his grandfather's opposition of participation by arguing that knowledge of a man's lancework has little effect when charged by a line of lances. Earning the coin purses can be a massive boon if spent wisely.
As Robb watched Jonnel get launched off his horse like every other time he tilted against Baelor he could not help but laugh and mutter, "Why is he the one teaching us?"
Leaning towards Robb while mounted Jon muttered back, "Because Baelor is lazy. Daena told me he only learned the skills because he did not wish to disappoint his mother. He trained to end things quickly and get it over with." The only reason Jon was with them jousting was because of Sansa. The girl had mimicked a pup's eyes to convince Jon and taught Lady to beg on command just for insurance. Jon could not withstand the assault on his heart and surrendered.
After a sennight shy of a moon with the couple's children, Robb was no closer to accepting the pairing. He did note he could potentially use Sansa to convince Jon to do many things especially if she used the puppy eyes. Though of the two it was definitely Sansa who was worse. His mother also did not seem to approve yet and maybe never will. Her occasional scowls directed at Jon seemed to prevent any gossip about any changes in Jon's treatment.
"Do you wish to go to the bathhouse again? I'd like to, you bruised my shoulder on our last tilt." Jon's questions reminded him of their tilts, Robb won most including the last one where his lance hit Jon's shoulder after being redirected by the shield that caught the initial hit.
He had his own bruises and his back was sore. "Yeah, you need to get clean after how many times I put you in the mud." Robb leaned and bumped shoulders with his brother. When Jon winced Robb realized his mistake, "Sorry, my bad."
Jon just shook his head, "You're nearly as dirty as I. And just wait I'll be besting you all the time soon, I think your sister may throw a fit if I never crown her in a tourney."
Robb would rather not talk about Sansa with Jon. "Come on, let's clean up and bathe."
The bathhouses were the newest addition to Winterfell, the second day that the time travelers were here the women complained about their absence. They argued that the two currently unfinished public bathhouses would offer another luxury to the keep and the noble two could be appreciated by visiting lords, especially Southerners. Only two of the five proposed have been built and neither are finished, still missing the stained glass roofing. The noble womens' bath was the first completed, then the mens', the two public and the lord and lady's private one would wait until after the king's visit. All five were to be or were converted from hot springs that were in the many courtyards of the castle.
"This should have been made years ago." Sure they had the hot springs before but if you wanted any sort of privacy, which was needed for the girls, the only option was in the Godswood.
Jon nodded in agreement from the other end of the now square pool. "I'm not surprised Sansa would come up with the idea. Jonquil had her pool why not Sansa, plus she likes swimming."
Why must Jon bring up Sansa again? The fact these were future Sansa's idea did not help when there was to be a fifth pool reserved for only the lord and lady of the keep. Every time he thought about that pool he thought of the reason for it and what Jon and Sansa would do in that pool. Though this time it would be Robb and his wife's pool, Jon would never touch Robb's little sister there.
Changing the subject was ideal for Robb. "What do you think of Alsauna and Daena's lessons?" Robb struggled to accept their lessons, they went against a lot of what his father taught them. Sauna had made comments that Robb's father and mother should be taking the lessons as well.
His brother seemed to take the lessons only slightly better than Robb, both took it better than Sansa. "It goes against much of what we were taught, but I think they are correct. What Sauna said about honor not being always what is right, it makes sense. Father lied for me to live." Even through the steam Robb could see Jon's head look down into the dark waters.
Robb understood the lying part but then there were things like the many answers to the bridge problem from the day they got the letter from the Tyrells. Every single thing suggested was dishonorable. All three of them had failed to win the simulation. After their failed attempts Sauna revealed the answers to questions they could have asked which made the house's allegiance even more questionable. "You don't win wars with honor." Robb echoed Sauna's words.
"Be honorable when you can but when lives are on the line, don't prioritize your pride over the lives of those that follow you or your own life. Fight dirty if you must." Jon paraphrased the rest of the lesson. Daena's lessons were similar, about the value of moral men living. The best thing a good man can do on the battlefield is ensure they live by any means, because the only way to do good is to live. When one knows their values and morals are good then another whose are unknown is not so valuable.
Molding his hand into a cup, Robb moved it into the water as he sat on the edge of his seat. Suddenly Robb sent a large splash towards Jon.
With the steam out of the way Robb saw Jon's dark wavys turned black and straight soaked. The hairs were pushed out of the way to reveal dark glaring eyes. "Is that your way of telling me you want to fight dirty in our spars?"
No. That was absolutely not what Robb wanted. He had enough trouble with Jon improving even faster with a sword as it was. The only times Robb won was when it came to two handed weapons, blunt weapons and when unarmed, though they were equal with greatswords and Jon was better with a spear. "No."
Jon did not accept his answer. "It would be wise to. You never know when you'll be forced to fight for one's life, and we are still young, best that we ensure that we survive. Aye?"
"No."
That damn grin grew wider. Curse his brother's new found confidence.
Notes:
Arya's part was mostly filler but I wrote it and thought I'd keep it.
Jon is already whipped. He can still say no, at least that is what he would claim.
I mixed the story of Arianne and Tyene's adventure to meet Tyene's mother and the one to meet Willas. Let's just say the Willas one turned into the second one when Oberyn joined. Or Arianne just twisted it to flirt. Whichever you prefer.
It is really interesting to dive into the more magical side of Westeros, there does canonically seem to be some sorts of elemental magics (Fire, Water, Air…) There also seems like there may be some sort of elemental demons with the Others being ice, Deep Ones being water, Old Ones being earth or something. I doubt anything will happen with those, or anything big. I won't be including that stuff, though deep ones will be real.
So this fic's concept was really a merging of three other fic concepts. A time travel Jonsa fic, a Jon/Marg/Val fic and a Jon/Rhaenys fic. I had the first chapter of the Jon/Rhaenys fic written, that chapter is going to be edited into the next chapter since most of it works for this, so it should be a rather quick update.
Next chapter will finally be Elia's chapter where we shall learn a bit more on how they survived, what they are doing, their plans and what exactly happened in this story's interpretation of Robert's Rebellion.
Upcoming Chapter POV Order:
Elia I
Jon II
Cat II
Ned II (Robert's Arrival)
Multiple POVs III (Robert, Jaime, etc.)
Sansa I