Hey guys! So, my current writing process is a POV a day, so that should be 2 to 3 chapters every two weeks.
So, we're back to Dragonstone! Let me know what you think of new characters and… enjoy!
Corlys Velaryon – Dragonstone, The Crownlands
Lord Maegar Celtigar was a vile man. His hair had greyed, his blue eyes dulled and dark. His hands were weathered as much as any sailor, but the ornate jewels that sat upon his garb were bigger and brighter than any King or Queen's.
"Little Lord Corlys," Maegar smirked at me, climbing the steps and laying a hand upon Viserys' throne, "Strange to find you here."
"Our families swore to serve House Targaryen."
Maegar nodded, striking his finger into the engravings of the arm of the throne, "I expected to be greeted by Viserys. Or, at the very least, his sister…"
"King Viserys and the Princess Visenya are away forging alliances. The Princess Visenya herself entrusted me to act on her-"
"Oh, His Grace didn't care enough to forge any such alliance with myself? Instead he had one his dogs summon me?"
I clenched my fist; Maegar was two decades older than myself, with one of the largest fleets in the Seven Kingdoms. Not that he ever went to war. No, Maegar was the man to hold a large fleet so he would never go to war. But it was more than that – Maegar was more than I could ever hope to be.
"After all I have done for that family… lending them my wealth, summoning my fleet, losing my own wife…" He lingered in front of the throne, his eyes fixed on it as the tide rumbled and roared outside, "And yet the Lord of Tides acts as though he is the Hand himself…"
"I am no Hand, My Lord," I glowered at him, "I am simply a servant of House Targaryen."
"Spoken like a truly loyal dog…" Maegar sneered. His smile vanished as the doors to the hall creaked open, and in walked Viserys. His hair was tussled from his journey, and Dark Sister swung at his hip freely while he pulled off his black leather gloves.
"Your Grace," I knelt, as did Celtigar's guard. Viserys paid them no mind, and walked up towards the throne, gesturing for me to rise. "Lord Maegar of House Celtigar has…"
"Nephew," Maegar opened his arms, smiling widely as he embraced Viserys, "how long has it been?"
"Years," Viserys replied as he sat on his throne, wincing as he leant on his right, his arm still weak from the Razing of Storm's End. "It's good to see you, My Lord. I trust that your presence means your fleet shall be added to Lord Velaryon's?"
"Yes…" Maegar grimaced at me, "though, I trust that my men shall be well-rewarded?"
"A reward for fealty? Your ancestors swore to serve mine."
"You and Aeron share the same ancestor," Maegar clasped his hands behind his back.
"Aeron is a Kinslayer and an Oathbreaker-"
"And Aegon the Conqueror took the Seven Kingdoms because he could. He had no birthright, just three dragons." Maegar sighed, "Aeron is the eldest Targaryen, legitimate by a royal decree. Not to mention that he sits on the Iron Throne. Following you into battle, Nephew… well, it puts me at great risk."
"You are my family, by law. Does family mean nothing to you?"
"I was given a barren maiden," Maegar waved a hand, "she yielded me no sons."
"You talk of a member of the House Targaryen, My Lord," I felt the hilt of my sword graze my palm.
"I talk of my first wife," Maegar spat the words at me, "mind your place, man. I fought off the Ironmen with my fleet while you were swinging a sword at your tree."
"If I remember right, My Lord, the Celtigar fleet was nowhere near Dragonstone during the siege."
Maegar blinked and began to stammer, searching for the right words as his cheeks flushed deeply, "I was… concerned that the Ironborn may have tried to launch an assault on King's Landing…"
"Even when my mother was in danger?" Viserys rose from his throne, "Your sister, by law? Do you think that your wife, my aunt, may still breathe today if you had not been so cowardly?"
"I'll not have my honour questioned by a mere boy-" Maegar turned to walk, but Viserys grabbed his arm.
"I am your King, first and foremost," He leant in close, hissing lowly, "And should you dare imagine you may make demands of me again, I'll have your hands," Viserys released his grip, glaring at Maegar's guard, who all remained kneeling. "Scurry back to Claw Isle, Uncle. Gather your fleet and return to me, or I shall mount Broxagon and burn your pathetic little island myself!"
Visenya Targaryen – Riverrun, The Riverlands
Lord Bryce sat at his table, swilling a glass of Arbor Gold as he watched his bastard, Brandon, reading the stories of Aegon the Conqueror to his little Melissa. It was clear from my conversation with his wife, the Lady Cecilia, that Bryce cared deeply for his bastard, but seeing that look in his eyes hurt. My father once held the same eyes when he looked upon Aeron.
And how did my bastard brother repay our father's kindness? By decimating his legacy.
"It will take some difficulty to muster the forces for a march down to King's Landing," Lord Bryce informed me, "Sigurd Greyjoy believes the Ironmen should rule the Riverlands as they once did before. As soon as my armies move South, his shall sweep in."
"And like Aegon did before, my brother and I shall use our dragons to rid the Riverlands of the Ironborn once again." Bryce nodded, stroking his beard.
"Shall we speak plainly, Your Grace?"
I leant back in my chair, "I should like that very much, My Lord."
"My father always worried about his legacy. And, as you well know, I have but one trueborn child. I love her, but…"
"She may not further your line," I nodded. "You wish for your bastard to hold your name?" Bryce gave a short nod. I traced my finger around the rum of my cup of wine. "Only the King may grant a decree of legitimacy…"
"And you have the King's ear," Bryce stated. "Brandon is my son. Regardless of his name, he will always be a part of my family. I just ask that my father's legacy be protected."
"My Lord, my King Brother and I are amidst a war that arose because of the very fact that my father legitimized his bastard. Who would be more suitable to rule? Your trueborn daughter, or you legitimized bastard?"
"This is not Aeron and Viserys we are discussing here," Bryce's voice was soft as he admired his children. They both had his large sky-blue eyes, both had his russet hair… it was true, Aeron looked like us, but none of us ever thought of him as a true Targaryen. He was always… he wasn't enough of a Dragon to be part of our dynasty.
"Brandon adores Mellie," Lord Bryce insisted. "He'd only ever want to protect her."
I let out a small cough, "Is that all of your requests, My Lord?"
"One more thing," Bryce drummed his fingers along the table, "I wish to have suitable matches for my children. When they come of age."
"Both of them?"
"A Targaryen's word would make all the difference in their prospects."
I nodded, "And this would be in return for…"
"I swear by the Seven that upon my honour as a Tully, I shall gather my banners and march South to join you in taking King's Landing with your brother."
I couldn't help but smile at this. With Viserys in the Vale, and myself securing an alliance with the Riverlands, we had two Kingdoms behind us. But Aeron had the Reach and the Rock – not to mention the Crownlands themselves.
I raised my cup of wine, "Then I shall avail myself of this land, and return to Dragonstone," I stood from my chair, clinking my cup into his. "On behalf of my brother, King Viserys, I accept your conditions."
Finn Snow – The Lusty Crone, Yunkai, Essos
It had been a long ride to Yunkai. I'd near killed my mare on the journey, but I had no time to waste. From my year's service in the Second Sons, I knew they never stayed in one place for too long. I figured the Lusty Crone was a good place to try and find the Redbear and his men.
The Lusty Crone was amongst the oldest brothels in Yunkai – full of Lyseni girls, old and young, thin and fat. Made entirely of stone, with fires burning all around. It was clear upon entering that I'd find the Redbear here; men in mismatched leathers, all of whom carried a variety of blades. And sitting by the bath in the centre of the room, was a man with two shortswords. One, a Qohorian blade with a rose pommel. The other, castle-forged steel, with a bear's head carved out of ironwood. With a boy on one side and a woman on the other, the man was larger than any other I had seen, his hair was just as red as I remembered, tied back into a single braid. His brown eyes glinted as he laughed with the boy on his left. What had changed however, was his face. Once handsome, now marred from the numerous scars he had picked up in the year since I had seen him.
"Redbear!" A voice called from across the room. The Redbear looked up from his whores to see Jaza, who nodded towards me. The Redbear's brown eyes locked onto mine, and he stood up from his chair.
"Finn bloody Snow!" His voice boomed in a familiar Northern drawl.
"Redbear," I nodded, dreading what came next. He wrapped his tree-trunk arms around me, squeezing all breath from my breast and left me wheezing, rubbing my ribs.
"Come you in, have a drink!" He shoved a bottle of purple wine in my hands, "Get you something? A girl?"
"I don't plan on staying long," I took a sip, "Gods, you've picked up a few scars along the way, haven't you?"
"Now that's funny," He held my hand, examining the black cloth that covered my palms, and gently slapped my eyebrow, where that scar still stung.
"Still consorting with Mikko?"
"Aye."
The Redbear walked back to his chair, shifting his arms around his whores. He was a good decade and a half older than me, though the scars on his face made him look a great deal older. I suppose, my own scars made me look older…
"He still all solemn and stern?" Redbear chuckled.
"No more than before…"
"Bah," Redbear took the bottle from me, "Life's too short to be a broody bastard like that!" He laughed and took a swig from his bottle. I felt my fist clench, and sat down in the chair opposite him. Redbear slowly stopped drinking, passing the bottle back to me. "Meaning no offence." I grunted in response. "So, still after that fantasy of yours? Riches and reputation?"
I took the bottle from Redbear, "That river's run dry."
"I'm sure I can help," He leant forwards as the lad beside him stroked his hair, "Return to the Second Sons, Finn! Put your ambition to better use. I'd have you as my Commander."
I laughed and shook my head, "I've not the mettle for your campaigns, Mormont."
Redbear's smile faltered, "You're think about Mereen?"
I quickly glanced down at the bottle, "We agreed never to discuss that."
"Aye… I remember," Redbear's eyes drifted down to the floor. I knew what he was thinking about – the exact same thing that I was. The bodies in the street like cobblestones, lakes of blood… the smell of the bodies burning. "So," Redbear shook his head, "what can I do for you? I take it this is no chance meeting?"
"Redbear," I handed him the bottle back, "I'm to head back across the Narrow Sea."
"To Westeros?" Redbear began snapping his fingers, "I believe there's a problem with that… something about… what was it, heads and pikes?"
"My father was killed by Raff Bolton some months back." Redbear's face fell, his brow furrowed. "Now, my brother Markas has met the same fate."
"Bennard has fallen?" Redbear rubbed his brow, "He was a good man. Not a smart one, certainly not a great one, but… a good one nonetheless." Redbear slapped the lad next to him and pointed at the shelves of drinks. "I'd heard talk of battles, but…"
"It happened some time after I left for Braavos," I informed Redbear. "Winterfell has been razed, and Alvar Bolton rules as Warden of the North."
"How did you come to learn this?"
"My sister, Evie, survived. She journeyed to Braavos to find me."
"Sounds as stubborn as her mother," Redbear took two bottles from the boy, tossing one to me. "Is the Lady Margareth…?"
"Evie watched her die."
Redbear nodded solemnly, uncorking the wine and clinking the bottle against mine. It was sad to drink for Lady Stark's memory but… she'd never been much of a mother to me. Growing up in Winterfell, I'd never known comfort from her arms, nor had I desired it. But, she was Evie's mother. Markas' mother. Little Tylan's as well.
"Where is the girl now?"
"Back in Braavos with Helesa and-"
"Helesa?" Redbear's solemn face was swept away by guffaws, "Still sweet on that strumpet, are you?"
"It's a tad more complex than that…"
"Oh, I'm sure it is," Redbear chortled as the girl began nibbling at his earlobe. "So, Evie. How'd she survive?"
"She was down South when Winterfell was attacked."
"Down South?" Redbear frowned.
"Aye. Marrying a Baratheon."
Redbear's eyes widened. "Seems the Targaryens aren't the only ones who fuck their sisters…"
"Derrick!"
"What is it about your family and Baratheons? Is it their fiery temper? The bulging muscles?" I rolled my eyes at his jibes, though I couldn't help myself from curling my lips slightly. "Come on, what does it take to lure a Stark?"
"I wouldn't know."
"Oh, less of that bloody brooding, lad," Mormont slapped my knee as he stood up, raising his bottle to his mercenaries, "A drink. In memory of House Stark." I stood up along with the rest of the commanders in the Second Sons, all of us raising our drinks. "The North Remembers."
"The North remembers," we all repeated in broken unison. We all gulped down our drinks, and Redbear seated himself again. As he did so, everyone returned to their flirtations.
"Derrick," I took a breath, drumming a finger against my bottle, "neither of use are beholden to our family's oaths, but I can't turn my back on them when they need me…"
"Well, this certainly is a step up from the Finn Snow I fought beside a year back. Tell me, what have I missed," He waved away the boy, "I heard talk the Iron Bank lost something recently," He smirked, "You wouldn't have had anything to do with that now, would you?"
I shook my head, "Far from it."
"Oh aye, I'm sure…" He leant back in his chair, "What about that dancing master, Vollys? That old crock still about?"
"Not anymore."
"Really?" He raised an eyebrow in mild surprise, "My condolences. I know he meant a fair bit to you…"
"Aye, he did. Before he betrayed me."
"Betrayed?" Redbear smiled in curiosity, "I thought you two were closer than a Septa's legs. I'm sure it's quite the tale…"
"One I'd rather not regale you with," One hand drifted to my swordhand, gently rubbing the scars that sat beneath the cloth. "Are you with me?"
"With you? With you in what?" Redbear feigned innocence.
"You want me to say it?" Redbear folded his arms and leaned back in his chair, cocking his head to the side. I let out a grunt, "I want you to bring your Second Sons with me to Westeros."
Redbear turned to the whore on his left, "He doesn't ask for much, does he?" He mumbled.
"Derrick…"
"We're sellswords, Finn. We've got good work this side of the sea."
"How long will it be before the Boltons attack Bear Island?"
"That's hardly my concern," the Redbear scoffed, "it were your father that exiled me near two decades ago. He exiled you as well…"
"Red- Derrick, the Boltons have slaughtered my family. They'll slaughter half the North before the year is out."
"Be that as it may, the law is the law. Your father exiled us…"
"This isn't about my father. You were exiled for killing one man. I was exiled for…," I shook my head, "Do you think Raff is any better than us? We've served our sentence. Don't you think it's time we went home?" I set down the bottle on the table, "I can't stay in Braavos, it's not safe for Evie. I need to take her home. I need to bury my brothers." Redbear let out a snicker. "What is it?"
"How long have you waited for an excuse to go back to Winterfell?"
I bit my lip, "From the moment I stepped off the ship."
"Why? Not for that Baratheon girl, surely…"
I rolled my eyes, "That were four years ago, Redbear. That ship has sailed."
"Unless she had a child…" Redbear raised his eyebrows and smiled at the horror on my face, "You may return to find a little dark-eyed Storm…"
"Gods, I hope not…" I smoothed back my hair.
"For a Snow, you seem awful afraid of fathering a bastard."
"I never knew my mother," I explained, "I saw Lady Margareth with Markas, with Evie… well, I wanted that." I turned to face the Redbear, "I know I said it often, but it's not easy."
Redbear nodded. "Sod it…" He stood up, swaying slightly, "Bastards and exiles are all welcome in the Second Sons. And as long as there's gold in it for them," Redbear extended an arm.
"You're sure?"
"No. But I'm drunk, which is good enough." I clasped Redbear's arm.
"I promise, you will be rewarded for this, friend."
"Aye, aye, we'll set sail for Braavos tomorrow. Now…" He slapped me on the shoulder and staggered over to the rest of his men, unsheathing an axe, "here's a game I learnt from a couple of Ironborn reavers!"
Lord Commander Mikal Drake – The Throne Room, The Red Keep, King's Landing, The Crownlands
The Throne Room was empty. Rays of Moonlight shone through the window behind the Iron Throne, illuminating the dust that drifted down slowly towards the floor. I frowned, turning around to see no fireplaces lit. It was just the skulls of the dragons and the throne. Though, a silent, hooded figure did sit upon the throne.
"Your Grace?" I called out, approaching the throne. "You wished to see me?"
The silhouette looked up from the shadow and stood, walking down the steps. "Lord Commander," the figure's accent was strange because there was no accent. He wasn't Northern, Dornish, Braavosi…
"Only the King may sit upon the Iron Throne."
"Me and my brothers have a gift for you," The figure came closer. He wore a long fur-lined cloak, with a steel breastplate. A hand lay upon the hilt of a longsword. His shieldhand gestured behind me, and I turned around to see two other hooded men, dressed as he was. One of them held a large brass chest, which he placed onto the ground, bowing his head and taking several steps back.
"What's that?"
"Your present," The first man replied, "our employer insisted we not come to you empty-handed."
"Your employer?" I frowned. "Does he wish to make some sort of deal with me?"
"Of sorts," The man said, a ghost of a smile in his voice. "If you will…"
I walked towards that heavy brass chest, adorned with iron buckles and leather straps. The sort of chest one would only use when travelling from one kingdom to another. I arrived at it, pressing my hand to it and kneeling down to open it. As I came closer, there was a putrid smell, something of rot and decay and metal.
I unclasped the lock and pushed open the lid.
Inside was a grotesque treasure. Upon a mound of all manner of organs and intestines, was a pair of severed arms, hands white as bone and wrapped around a hazel lute. A small tulip breast was on either side of the lute, beside each elbow. Below, a pair of alabaster legs were parted, exposing a cunt, a pale tongue planted inside.
"We didn't take her tongue until last," the first man said, "she did have such a beautiful voice after all."
"What is this?" I examined the parts. No scars or cuts – This would have been done while the girl was alive. A butcher knows another butcher's work.
"Interest," He drew his sword, "on a debt repaid."
"A debt?" I stood there, looking at this man. I was in the same spot when Ser Edgar had been knighted. He had promised he would pay his debt to me. "Who is this?"
"We thought it would only be fitting you see all of her," He pointed his sword at me, "your pretty bastard bard."
I looked back to the body. I remembered holding those hands, those arms wrapped around mine as we strolled through Fish Monger's Square, looking into her beautiful sky-blue eyes. My gut was gripped, and I began to think about Daisy. Rocking back in forth with her in my arms. The last time that I had cried.
"You murdered her," I spoke quietly. I knew what I was going to do. I just didn't know when it would happen.
"You murdered Ser Richard Dayne," the man replied. "A debt to be repaid. Make your peace with your Gods."
I let out a scoff, "I made my peace long ago," I rose, "Was this little show supposed to scare me into submission?" I drew my axe in my shieldhand, "I'm afraid you've failed," I unsheathed my sword, "I don't feel anything anymore."
Oooh… was that an off-screen death? I mean… no… probably not, but you'll have to tune in next time to see!
Well… most of these parts were very short, the main purpose was the Yunkai chapter. But I'm spinning plates with this story…
So, next chapter is called 'Justice…' and takes place in Winterfell, Castle Black and King's Landing. It'll be up next week at some point and… ah, it's not gonna be a fun chapter to write.
