At the Whispers…
Drakon walked alongside Visenya as they and the Dragons aimlessly made their way through the Whispers, listening to her story. The last Blackfyre was slowly coming to realize that he was, in fact, not the last. Her story made more and more sense as it went on: Drakon's father, Maelys I, had bedded a noblewoman from Lys who had Valyrian blood. She was with child when Maelys had departed to start his rebellion against the Iron Throne, and Drakon figured that Visenya was only a few months older than him.
"Did your mother ever tell you about him?" he asked.
Visenya wiped a strand of silver hair out of her eye and replied "She said that he was the most driven man she had ever met. His… deformity didn't make him the most handsome man she had ever seen, but she didn't care about that. She fell in love with him not because of his looks, but because of his inner fire and determination".
Drakon smiled mournfully. "I wish I had known him".
"Me too" Visenya said, placing a hand on his back.
"I never knew my mother, either. I have vague memories of her teaching me how to walk and playing with me, but I never had the chance to know what it was like to have her raise me". They then found themselves outside, on the edge of the cliffs that the castle straddled. Drakon crouched down beside Rhaegon and Maelion and whispered "Sovetis". They then launched themselves from the cliff, proceeding to take to the sky.
"They are the most amazing things I have ever seen" Visenya commented as she sat down on a nearby rock. A gentle breeze was caressing the two of them, and it made her silver hair dance around her perfect face.
Drakon stood in front of his half-sister, gazing out at the Blackwater that lay before them. "They are my children" he said, crossing his arms. "I've cared for them, fed them, taught them restraint; it's only a matter of time before they become too large for me to properly train them".
"And that is why you searched for the horn" Visenya replied.
Turning to look at her, Drakon asked "How did you find me?"
The other woman stood, walking up to him and taking his arm. Drakon briefly looked down at her immaculate hands; Jocelyn had been the only one to take his arm like that, and the reminder felt like a knife through the heart. He forced the feelings of anger and loss down as much as he was able as Visenya said "I saw your meeting with Barristan Selmy in King's Landing, before Ned Stark lost his head. After that, I made it my business to learn everything I could about you. After a few weeks, I found that I wasn't the only one; someone was making discreet inquiries about you in the capital over a year ago".
Drakon's jaw clenched tight with quiet rage. "They were working for Lady Buckwell, a noblewoman who I traded with quite frequently. I killed the man she loved a few years after the Usurper took power, and she hunted me down. She slaughtered twelve of my guards and four of my knights trying to kill me. I threw her body onto the pyre she had placed the Dragon eggs on, and she burned alive, giving life to Rhaegon and Maelion. Later, I learned that she had poisoned my wife, killing her and the unborn twins she had been carrying". As he recounted the tale, Drakon looked down at his left hand, which still bore a scar across the palm from when he had pressed his hand against a sword in an effort to kill one of Lady Buckwell's guards.
Beside him, he could see Visenya looking at him with a mournful expression. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but she turned to look at the flying Dragons off in the distance. Eventually, she looked back at him and said "It is those who are closest to us that suffer the most" in High Valyrian.
Drakon nodded, then turned to look at her. He gazed into her violet eyes, and without even thinking, he leaned in and gently kissed her ruby lips. It lasted for what felt like an eternity, and Drakon eventually pulled away from it, backing up a few steps. He turned around, breathing heavily as he said "I… have to send word to my children. They… have to know that… I won't be there for some time". He ran a hand through his silver hair, then walked off into the keep, pointedly not looking at his half-sister.
At Dragon's Rest…
Jayne read the letter again, taking enough time to read each individual word very carefully. When she finished, she knew that there was no mistake; her father was staying at the Whispers for the time being, and he had made her and the twins the acting Lady and Lords of Dragon's Rest. Letting her hands drop to her sides, Jayne said "There's no mistake; father wants us to rule the hold in his stead".
Edric ran a hand through his close-cut black hair, while Edwyn paced back and forth. "Did he say anything else?" Edric asked.
Jayne looked at the letter. "He wants to stay at the Whispers and train Rhaegon and Maelion before they're too large".
Edwyn scoffed. "And he needs to stay at an abandoned keep to do that?"
Jayne placed a hand on her brother's shoulder, stopping his nervous pacing. "It's the best place for him to do that. There's too many people here, and father can't risk anyone learning about the Dragons before he's ready".
"Ready to launch a crusade against the rest of the country?" Edric asked sardonically.
Jayne gave him a disapproving look as she wiped a strand of black hair behind her ear. "Right now, we need to focus our attention on our lands. Let's make father proud". The twins glanced at one another before nodding their assent. With that, Jayne turned to Rona Grey and said "We're ready".
The older woman smiled at them. "You'll do fine" she said comfortingly. Rona had been a close family friend all their lives; she had been their mother's oldest friend, and Jayne and the twins had always enjoyed hearing her stories as children. Now, the grey-clad woman opened the doors of the Council chamber and led the Blackfyre children into the lit space. The gathered advisors turned to look at them before standing and bowing.
Jayne felt their eyes on her, and she knew that the twins were feeling the same level of apprehension; she was just better at concealing it. Rona sat down at her seat, and a servant entered with a third seat, which she placed next to the other two at the head of the table. Once the woman left, Jayne sat down in the seat on the left, and she was perfectly aware that it had been her mother's seat when she had attended council meetings. Once the twins sat down, Jayne folded her hands on her lap, mentally readying herself.
"Lord Drakon has decided to remain at the Whispers for the time being" Rona told the other advisors. "He has named his children as the acting Lords and Lady of Dragon's Rest". She then turned to the three Blackfyre children smiling in support.
Jayne glanced at her brothers before taking a deep breath. "What news is there?" she asked in as ladylike a voice as she could manage.
Rona was the first to speak. "A farmer in the Riverlands has recently bought his own land. He paid in silver, a great deal of silver".
"It's a little odd for a mere farmer to have extra coins, isn't it?" Edric asked.
"That is the question" Simon said, taking a drink from his wineglass.
"I learned that the farmer got his silver from men sworn to House Bolton" Rona said.
"House Bolton?" Edwyn asked. "Aren't they Stark bannermen?"
"They are, indeed" Maester Lucas replied. "They are one of the more well-known Northern houses, but also the most infamous".
"They paid the man his silver because of something he saw" Rona added. "Apparently, he spotted Brienne of Tarth escorting Jaime Lannister".
"Who is Brienne of Tarth?" Jayne asked.
"The only child of Lord Selwyn Tarth, a Baratheon bannerman. She has been pursuing the martial arts for most of her life".
"Where are the Tarth woman and the Kingslayer now?" Edric asked, crossing his arms.
"Well, if they're in the hands of House Bolton now", Ser Samwell said in his deep voice, "then my guess is that they'll take them to Harrenhal". When he spoke, a large wolf's head suddenly appeared beside the stocky Knight, startling Simon. The bailiff's reaction was understandable; the Direwolf was almost the size of a pony, and it dominated the Council chamber with its large physicality. Ser Samwell petted the Direwolf's head, and the furred predator was clearly enjoying it. Their father had sent the Knight along with their best hunter to deal with the monstrous Direwolf that had been terrorizing their Smallfolk. Ser Samwell had returned with the Direwolf at his side, along with claw marks across his face that he received whilst fighting it. The wolf, called Nymeria by Arya Stark, appeared to be completely loyal to him now.
"They two of them will have to survive being captives of the Boltons" Simon said, sounding as if he was placing a bet on the matter.
"There's also news from Nym, my spy in Riverrun" Rona said, drawing the children's attention. "Kirth is alive".
Jayne could hardly believe it. "Alive?" she asked, looking to her brothers, who were similarly shocked.
The grey-clad woman nodded. "He managed to escape Winterfell before it burned. He's been travelling with the Northern army, and is with them now".
At Riverrun…
Kirth watched as Robb Stark and his great-uncle pushed the boat containing the body of the now late Lord Hoster Tully down the river. Tully custom dictated that funerals would be comprised of the family member's body being placed in a boat which was pushed down river while a relative shot a flaming arrow into it. That task currently fell to Lord Edmure Tully, the new Lord of Riverrun. Kirth watched him light the arrow, draw the bowstring, and fire. The arrow soared through the air before landing in the water a few feet away from the boat.
The minstrel sighed as Lord Edmure lit another arrow. He fired, and the arrow landed a few feet from the boat. He visibly grimaced, and the gathered crowd started murmuring. After firing a third and similarly failed shot, Ser Brynden, Lord Edmure's uncle, roughly shoved the man aside as he took the bow and nocked an arrow. The older man checked a nearby flag, gauging the winds, before he drew the bowstring and fired. As the arrow soared through the air, he turned around, tossed the bow to his nephew, and walked away. Kirth looked at the boat in the distance, and saw it light aflame a moment later. Lord Hoster Tully had been laid to rest.
North of the Wall; at Craster's Keep…
Rolfe did his best to keep breathing steadily; the thing about the cold was that it tended to suck the air out of a person's lungs. His beard had almost completely frozen during the long trek from the debacle at the Fist of the First Men, and he felt as if his fingers and toes were almost useless from the cold. While the cold took priority, Rolfe had to admit that he was starving; they had had to abandon most of their supplies at the Fist during the retreat, which meant that they had run out of food long before they reached their destination.
Craster's Keep lay before them, and Rolfe knew that if the surviving brothers didn't get shelter from the worthless piece of wildling shit, then there would be blood. Sure enough, Craster himself stood at the doorway. "What have we here? Frozen crows?" the old man asked sarcastically.
"We've come a long way" Lord Commander Mormont said.
Craster surveyed what brothers were left. "Smaller flock than what you went north with".
"We can talk inside".
"Oh, can we?" Craster replied, his voice dripping with contempt. He glanced at each of the brothers as Rolfe felt his hand grasping his sword, and the veteran Ranger could tell that the Wildling man realized just how desperate they were. After a few minutes had passed, Rolfe found himself inside the main building alongside several brothers by the fire. A woman's screams could be heard coming from nearby. "Keep your eyes where they belong" the old man warned Rast, one of the younger Rangers. "They're not for you".
"Bet you feed that pig better than you feed us" Karl, another Ranger, said.
"Aye, pig's got value to me" Craster agreed. "You should all be kissing my feet for letting you in. I'd have turned you all away if I wasn't a godly man".
"You are a godly man?" the Lord Commander asked.
"I am" Craster maintained. "I got no fear of what's out there. When the white cold comes, your swords and cloaks and pretty fires won't help you. Only ones left will be those who are right with the gods, the real gods".
The painful moans continued, and Rolfe and several brothers looked back at the door.
"Go tell her she can bite down on a rag or she can bite down on my fist" Craster told one of his wives, and Rolfe found himself glaring at the old lecher. Luckily, the Lord Commander put everyone to work a few minutes later, saying that they had to earn their food. Just as he was about to start splitting some logs, Rolfe saw Sam Tarly standing against a wall, looking rather concerned about something.
Walking up to the large boy, Rolfe asked "You all right, lad?"
The question seemed to snap Tarly out of whatever he was thinking. He shook his head, saying "I'm just worried about Gilly; that's all".
Rolfe crossed his arms. Derryk had told him that Tarly had struck up a connection with one of Craster's younger wives when they had stopped at the keep before. "You're worried about her and her baby?" Tarly nodded, and the veteran Ranger said "Don't worry yourself, lad. My Sebastion took a day and a half to be born. He and his mother were fine. Gilly will, too". Clapping the fat boy's shoulder, he said "Best find some work to keep yourself busy".