Still amazed by the follows and favourites as well as the reviews :)
Also sorry for not updating on Wednesday. Did not feel like writing and Yesterday I attended a funeral. Wanted to have a chapter a day this week, but alas, I have to try for an extra chapter or two tomorrow and on Sunday.
What in the name of the Seven was the girl thinking? He knew that the North was different. But surely such a relationship between kin as close as a brother and sister were frowned upon here as well.
He had not planned to seek Tormund out, but as he and a few dozen of the Wildlings were in the courtyard with a dozen of the Mormont men he did not need to seek him out.
"Davos!" The man yelled at him from where he was handling a broadsword. What had happened to his old one? not that he didn't think the upgrade was needed.
"Tormund. Found yourself a new blade, I see." He said as he came to a halt in front of him.
"Not, sure. This armoury is filled with all types of swords. What did you call them?" Tormund said as he eyed the leader of the Momont men. A rather short man by the name of Jory.
"Short word,the one you're handling is called a broadsword, then there's a long sword. Hand and a half or bastard sword. Then you've got a two-handed sword." The voice sounded bored, and not exactly like a man.
"Why the need for so many variations. Not simple enough with one type?" Tormund asks as he sheaths the sword and fastens the belt around himself.
"Some types of swords are better suited for certain things. A short sword or broadsword works much better in hallways that are not so wide, or when working one's way up stairs. Or defending them. A bastard sword, on the other hand, is better when you know that you'll lose your shield, or at least when you believe that you will."
"And the Two-hander?"
"Never really seen much of a point for it myself, but there's been a few that can use it properly in battle. Personally, I'd avoid them at all costs."
"Oh? Fearsome are they?"
"Very. Don't like losing either. One of them chopped off the head of his opponent's horse once."
"Seems like a worthy opponent. Unlike these butchering twats."
"Last I heard, both of them died. So, you'll have to find other worthy opponents."
"Davos, do not steal my thunder." The red-bearded man said though he could see the slight twitch of his mouth that signalled it as a jest. A moon's turn back and he would most likely not have seen it.
"Anyway, as I've found you. Could I speak with you for a moment? Alone." Davos asks as he enters into the Armoury. He remembers from when they searched trough the entirety of Winterfell that there was a backroom where the Master of Arms tended to go about his business.
As he heard Tormund follow him he entered the room and closed the door after he entered it.
"What is it? I doubt it's to compare our members." The man says in an open jest as he lowly chuckles at his own joke.
"No. The Lady Sansa asked me to ask you to tell anyone that asks you. That you witnessed her marry Jon shortly after they left Castle Black. Within the Fortnight I'd reckon."
"She's his sister… That is wrong."
Davos had to school his features. The Wildings had something against incest? That was, honestly, odd news. He'd expected them to think it normal.
"We steal our wives from other communities, tribes or clans. Keep the blood in the communities fresh."
Oh yes, and what's to stop somebody from stealing their cousins? Or nieces? Seems about as bad as it sounds.
"They're not married. They'll pretend to be, so as to stop another man from clawing his way into power here in the North."
"Power. Bah. Seems like that's all you Southron's care about."
"Well, this one is a real Southroner. It's the man with the grey hair wearing grey clothes and an odd cloak that seems to be the norm in The Vale."
"He's the one that led those Southern Knights here. Saved us."
"Aye, he did. But he more than likely delayed the charge until he thought Jon was dead."
"Why'd he do that?"
"So as to make sure that there would not be an independent rallying point for the North. Sansa would be ripe for the taking so to speak, the North, with the exception of the Mormonts of Bear Island, does not trust Women to rule. Less so after all that Cersei Lannister has done over the last few years." Davos says as he leans against the desk midway trough.
"He wants Sansa for himself?"
"Yes, he's clawed himself into becoming the Lord Protector of the Vale. Sort of a ruler before the actual ruler is old enough to rule. And he wants the North as well. Besides that, as the Lord of Harrenhall, an old gigantic castle in the Riverlands, he can possible worm himself into power there as well. And then he'd have three of the Seven kingdoms under his rule. And possibly manage to win a war against the Crown
But he wants Sansa as his bride. Or so it seems to me at least. If I could just get Lord Bronze Yohn alone, I could figure it out."
"He is what? Three times her age. Even for Wildlings, that's disgusting. Fine, I'll lie for the girl. But it better be worth it."
"It will be, we can not have infighting right now, we just don't have the men. They're either dead or being healed." Davos said as he was about to leave the armoury.
"How old were their brother again? He seemed a bit old to me."
"I don't know. Never learnt much about the North, to be honest.
"The way Jon talked about him, he was a boy of six. Your boys grow quick because he looked like he was what our fourteen-year-olds look like. Instead of nine."
"I'll take that under advisement," Davos said before he left trough the door.
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Jon had left the Dining hall right after he had eaten his own fill and left to search for Melisandre. She was not easy to find, even with the Wildlings and men of the Vale being helpful, or so he hoped, in pointing him after her. But he found her in the Winter Garden looking at the Winter Roses.
"I had a vision once, of a Winter rose springing to life at Castle Black. I think I know why, now. It was you." She said as she looked up at him.
"Last time you misinterpreted a vision it was snow being a symbol for me, and now another one has a Winter Rose reference me."
"The few times I've asked the Lord about you, I've never been able to clearly see what he shows me. I see a red river, a tower that stands alone. A white sword about to kill your father. Many things, but few of them seem to be about you. The only thing I've seen about you was your father talking with a Dornish man near a harbour, I could not interpret its words. I asked later about its meaning and saw many things, things that should have been."
"That seems like a bunch of rubbish strung together to entice me."
"The Lord works in mysterious ways, I'm sure it'll make sense when we need them to. Now, why were you looking for me."
"You heard?"
"No, I just assumed you did not have a habit to visit the garden. And you did not seem like the man to have that habit."
"I did actually. I came here and picked a Winter Rose to give to my aunt's statue at least once a moon. Don't recall why, to be honest. Never learnt much about the rest of the flowers, but I know what conditions the Winter rose require to grow and mature."
"Were you close to her?" A look of curiosity came over the witch, he'd never heard that be a good sign.
"No, she died before I was born." It was the only answer to give, if she knew half as much about his family as she'd given the indications of doing before, she'd know that from before.
"I'm sorry for prying into your past."
"No your not, this is not Northern History. It's Westerosi History, anyone half literate in the Seven Kingdoms knows of it!"
"That they may do, but I am not of Westeros."
"I have met men from Essos, but you do not sound like them. Therefore, you must've stayed here for long enough to hear of it. I may not play the Game, but I know it."
"What did you seek me out for then?"
"I would like for you to join me for Lunch." Jon says and does his best to not grit his teeth.
"I saw you entered the Dining hall shortly after lunch began to be served."
"Very well then. Ser Davos have accused you of orchestrating the Death of the Lady Shireen of House Baratheon. We are to host your trial now at the end of Lunch."
"So that you'll gain the support of the Lords of the Vale. How… How politically suave of you."
Jon bristled at that. "This is not politics, this is you killing a girl for no reason other than to practice your blood magic." Jon yelled at her.
"I was commanded to clear the way so that King Stannis could continue towards Winterfell. The Lord demanded a sacrifice."
"Aye, as you drained the King to make a killer shadow to kill his own brother, as you leeched blood off of a bastard of Fat King Robert to kill the other kings. Seems to be a much steeper price to remove the weather than to kill somebody. One leech of blood killed three men, but you require a little girl to move the weather?"
"I do as the Lord commands of me."
"This Lord commands you to stand trial. And it isn't a request."
"Led the way then." She says as she turns towards him.
Jon was taken aback at that as he honestly did not expect her to agree so easily, but he led her back to the dining hall. And not to late either as he arrived as most of the Lords and Knights were about to leave and get started with their work.
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Davos found Yohn putting a young man with blond hair into a wheelhouse.
"Had too much to drink?" He asked the older man.
"No, a pommel to the head." Yohn says as he signals for the man to take him out to the camp.
"Found a new employer already, Ser Davos?" Yohn asked as he led him up onto the wall.
"Not so much as found, as needed one. To be honest, he may have needed me more at the time."
"Oh? I doubt a son of Ned would have had much difficulty doing anything. Unless they got betrayed, as have been the songs I've heard sung of all the Starks in recent years."
"Aye, he was. Killed actually." Yohn looked at him warily at that.
"I heard stories that a shadow killed King Renly at Bitterbridge. And my Maester told me that the Maesters at the Citadel have been in an uproar over these last three years."
"Oh? What happened?"
"The candle of magic re-lit. It went out when the last dragon died. And now it burns as bright as it ever did."
"So, any magic is back? Even say, hypothetically, the Children's magic?"
Yohn gave a rueful laugh at that. "You seem to have spent too much time with these Wildlings. There's no proof that the children existed."
"But you believe Jon about the White Walkers? Why not the Children as well?"
"Well, folklore would have us believe they made the swamp lands of The Neck. Excuse me if I find it a bit hard to believe they did that overnight."
"I've never seen Moat Cailin myself, but most people I've heard tell of it, it is the largest and most imposing structure of its age here in the North and most likely anywhere."
"It's possible. But what makes their magic different, in your eyes?"
"No bloody idea. I just know that from the tales, they never demanded blood. But then again it could work in a completely different manner and be impossible to learn."
"Never seen or heard of it, though then again, the Maesters wanted the Dragons dead because they were magical beings. And the Maesters feared them because of it."
"Sounds about right, Stannis' Maester cared for Shireen, but he still feared her."
"I'm sorry, I recall you cared for her more often than not." Yohn said as he looked at the man that probably were the only one to care for her for herself rather than any other reason.
"Aye, she thought me how to read. She found it funny, a grown man that didn't know how to read."
"For most of us, it is. We've forgotten how privileged we are over the centuries. We just know this as our way of life." Yohn says as he looks over the field, assessing how things would have gone differently if they'd arrived earlier. A medium sand glass at a time. One- They would not be encircled. Two- They would have been mid-battle. Three- The cavalry charge he'd heard about.
"Never trusted Baelish. And this battle proves it. I knew I'd regret coming when I saw his men being the only outriders and scouts."
"He delayed your arrival?"
"Aye, he wants the Lady Sansa. And he wants the North. No doubt he told his outrider to wait until he could no longer see Jon before he returned."
"It's been good talking to you, Lord Royce. Now I should probably find my son before he does something foolish." Davos says and leaves out 'Like helping the Red Woman flee.'
He found him rather quickly as he entered the Main hall, Devan being on his way out.
"Father, Lord Snow bashed in an anointed Knight's head!" The lad told him fervently. The lad was not old, Fifteen namedays unless he's lost track of the moons entirely. Dressed as he was in his gambeson, maile and partial plate he seemed a lot fiercer than he was. Though he was, unfortunately, a loyal supporter of the Red Woman. Hopefully, his old fierceness and love of the Lady Shireen would tip his judgement.
"I'm sure it was well deserved," Davos said as he entered. Devan following, knowing that his father had not eaten lunch yet.
"He sat in the wrong chair. Like that's a reason to do that."
"We're in the North. It could be an important chair."
"Anywhere else the chairs of the Lord and Lady of a keep is easy to spot as their different from the rest."
"And was it?"
"It was paler, I suppose."
"Made of weirwood, I'd imagine. Many important things here are."
"I thought they worshipped the damn things?"
"They did, Stannis summary was that at first, the First men chopped them down, then they fought beside the Children and then they worshipped the Children's trees. So I'd imagine they chopped them down to make items that set them apart from other items. Such as thrones, tables, desk. Possibly even hilts of their great leader's swords."
Devan did not seem entirely mollified, but he knew that his father did not hide much from him. If at all.
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Jon entered the Dining Hall with Melisandra walking behind himself. He'd stopped and checked that it was her several times already. But he was not prepared for the amount of men still there when he entered. He saw Davos and Devan sitting just beneath the High table, and around the high table he saw most of the Lords present, and around the hall sat the Knights and Commanders and others that were notable but not a Lord.
Jon walked ahead and took his seat on the Weirwood throne. "Ser Davos, if you'd begin." Jon said as he laid his arms onto the table.
"Did you order King Stannis to burn his own daughter? Did you?!" Davos asked as he got up and walked down next to her. His gaze never wavering. Though Jon noticed Devan looking fearfully around the room. He'd noticed that the boy seemed infatuated with the woman, he could not tell if it was because of her magic or if he genuinely just thought of her as beautiful.
"I did as I was asked by Stannis. He asked for clear and traversable weather. The Lord required a sacrifice."
"I've seen you make shadow's that kill men on their own whim. I've seen you throw a few leeches filled with blood into the fire and within a few moons turns those men died. And you tell me that to clear the weather, Your Lord of Light demanded a child?"
"Was I supposed to sacrifice the King instead? You were the one who helped the boy escape. If he had stayed, then he would be the one sacrificed."
"As if it would make a difference, you're all out of your magic now."
"Am I?" She asked as she looked around the room, seemingly taking notes of who was usable for her sacrifices. The last one she looked at was Jon.
"It doesn't matter. It's wrong. Blood magic is wrong." Davos said as he looked between Jon, Devan and Melisandre.
"Do you have anything to say in your defence Lady Melisandre?" Jon asks as he stands up.
"Only that I did it in the service of the Lord."
"Then you'll be executed in five days time." Jon says as he walks forward to stand in front of her, but out of reach, remembering the way she looked at him and a handful of others just moments ago. "Take her to the cells, I want Mormont men and Wildlings as guards." Jon told Ser Davos.
"It'll be done." Davos said before he left. Jon looked back and saw Devan looking between them again, seemingly unsure who to get mad at.
Review Responses:
The Wolf Raven: I know that I have to work on my grammar, but it's really not just looking at a book and have everything get fixed overnight. I'll focus on finishing this story so as to get to know how to write ASOIAF/GOT fics, then I'll be focusing on my verbs as the last time I heard that was what I had the biggest issues with. If you think otherwise, please let me know.
Marvelmyra: I know what it contained, I meant I was unsure if it existed in the show's universe. But as this chapter hopefully proved, I have no issue taking things from the books to help fill in things.
Artimous Jackson: To be honest, I see no reason to do so. But it may happen, I just have not figured out where he should come in at this point.
Caseme: Tywin and Joanna were first cousins, so yes he does. And yeah, if she goes back to Baelish I... I don't even know. I have a feeling that I'll be pulling my 'I don't even. I don't even. I don't even know what's what anymore' Face on Monday :(
Guest 1: History is written by the Victor. That and did she really? I mean, she was left there with no aid what so ever. That truly should have been her first warning bell that something was off about their plan. But, oh well.
M-D-O-H: Long name there, shortened it for you :) Anyways, yes I am, and I agree. I Truly do agree on that second part :)
