This took longer than usual, but you will understand why
Un-betaed again, I post the right as soon as possible
I own nothing, sadly, if I would do Sansa and Tyrion would be together already
Daven
Daven Lannister observed with satisfaction how one of the towers of Pyke toppled into the sea. The fires and the constant bombardment with the trebuchets had weakened the foundation so much that the tower finally yielded. The sea foamed up when the stones crashed in it.
Pyke was the last of the castles which had held a stand against his invasion force, but now it was over, finally the Iron Islands were conquered. It took him a year to slowly seizing every damned castle on these unfriendly islands, even with such a small garrison of Ironborn left after the main part left to the Shields it was hard, but he did it. The Lords or the Ironborn were in captivity, or already on ships towards Casterly Rock to spend some time as hostages of Ser Kevan. He would be instructed by his cousin what to do with the prisoners as soon as the message of the victory arrived.
Lord Tyrion would most likely demand hostages, making somebody like Lord Harlaw to the new Lord-paramount. Daven would speak in his favour, the Reader had been very compliant after Daven promised him to spare his niece, Asha Greyjoy and allowing her to be his heir after the war was over. He had convinced several Lords to bend the knee and shortened the campaign with these actions more than expected.
Scratching his beard Daven saw how his men ran up the red lion-flag above the highest remaining tower of Pyke, with a smirk on his face he turned to his lieutenant.
"After the entire castle is secured the main part of the Army will retread to Ten Towers. I want a troop to remain and to tear down the entire castle, bring it down into the sea." Everybody should see what happened if he betrayal the King.
The Greyjoys wasn't the only one who had rebelled but their fatal error was to do it twice. Tyrion clearly had explained it to him. He could pardon everybody if he only rebelled once but twice would be too much a King would be considerate weak pardoning somebody twice. The Ironborn would pay, this was for sure but Daven doubted it would contain their ways for more than a few years. In ten maybe fifteen years they would start to pillage again, maybe sooner maybe later.
He walked down the path to the ships which were moored at the other side of the cliffs around Pyke, he was very pleased to be able to sail to Harlaw today, he had expected to be at least another week on this rock in the sea.
The supply situation was very good, his men were in a good mood, the moral was high; actually everything a commander could wish for, the only thing that bothered his was the plague the Ironborn were befallen with. Something killed them and even the Maesters he had brought with him couldn't determinate what was wrong with them. Furthermore a large number of floods had hit the island lately; it was like the Drowned God would turn against his worshipper.
Suddenly Daven beheld his old friend Ser Wirimyr, he knew the stocky knight for years, his best friend and trusted advisor during this conquest.
"Wirimyr, how are you?" He greeted him, gestured him to follow him to the shore.
"Good, good." He answered absently before turning to follow him, his hands in his pockets. "The landlord of the inn is dead."
"Unfortunate." He replied unmoved, he never liked the man who had administered the inn in the small village near Pyke. He didn't fight against his men but he was still an Ironborn. "The plague?"
"Yes."
"Do the Maesters finally know what it is?"
"No, they are clueless." His friend starred absently in the wide. "They just get sick and die."
"Our men?"
"Not a single one of them is sick. I have no idea why."
"We will see." Daven was actually really indifferent what would happen with the Ironborn, as soon as he was ordered to retreat he wouldn't look back at this place, ever. Reaching the shore he appointed Wirimyr to the new commander of the troops on Pyke before climbing in the boat which would bring him to his ship.
The Huntsman
Once again Randyll Tarly found himself at the gates of Castle Black, but this time he not only fought to end Stannis, no, apparently he had a much greater cause to follow, protecting the realm from the attack of evil monster out of the fairytales. Something his son Sam would piss himself about when he listened to his mother, nothing he ever had considered real. He had wanted to laugh when the priest with the testimonial from King's Landing had told the commander of their army the story at Last Hearth, believing it would have been a bad prank from the Imp, but then the foreigner had performed some wild gestured with his hands and a bright red light appeared, followed from some glitter in the air and then something in him forced him to believe the wild story.
He still believed it, maybe this god was real, he might worship the seven, like his ancestors, but only two days after the priest a large host of Skagos appeared, wild savages riding on unicorns. These unicorns actually looked like some oversized goats with only one horn but they would be able to overrun any array of Stannis. It was like this red god had intervened and apparently wasn't on Stannis side.
Even better news for Lord Stark had been that his little brother Rickon was with them, riding on a wild Direwolf with the really unsuitable name 'Shaggy-dog' he had been on the top of the Skagos host. It seemed the Lord of Skagos would be related with the Starks over their great grandparents.
With that they had ten-thousand more men to attack Stannis and even better were that the men from the South somehow had increased their moral over the last days. No losses because of frostbite or hunger. And if the Nightwatch would do the part they promised in a letter to the young Wolf they would win.
With his one good eye he inspected the battlefield, the traces from the last battle were disappeared and it appeared Stannis would use a different battle order this time, the Wildlings in the centre and no traps from behind hills. He wouldn't be able to fight in the vanguard this time, his eye prevented that, the only thing he could do was inspire the first lines of the main host from behind. A shame, how could he honest say his words now?
The horns resounded and with a drawn sword, high on his horse Robb Stark led the entire army at once into battle, the Skagos men with their unicorns at the sides. He pressed his heels in his horse and rode slowly in the centre of the men; he had to turn his head left and right to see everything with only one eye. By the second horn-signal he started to shout.
"Forward, let's bring them the King's peace." He shouted in the mid of his men, drawing his sword too and pointed it to the platform he saw attached to Castle Black. He could see Stannis on it his shiny sword in the air and besides him a red robed person.
The troops stormed forward, and he heard them crashing into Stannis lines, now it would be men versus men, shield at shield sword, axe, mace or spear against each other, his men were strong motivated but they would still pay a high death toll.
He rode between the lines shouting orders or inspire in the lines, gazing around he witnessed how the unicorns overrun the flanks with Stannis armoured men, but the centre of Stark's army didn't benefit from it, they were pressed back by the pure amount of men Stannis had, and then there was the lightning.
Three Roses
Slowly climbing up the staircase Loras braced himself for the task to come, his grip tightened around the scroll of parchment in his pocket. At the bottom of the stairs, leading to the platform the 'King' overlooked the battles from; Stannis's guards had let him pass without hesitation. Loras volunteered for what would come, he wasn't even sure if he would survive, but this didn't matter for him, everything inside him urged him to do it and he won't fail.
'I know what I demand and I would do it myself if I could" Lord Snow had told him in his study last night, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. It had been hard for him to agree to his brother's plan to join forces against Stannis; he hadn't been willing to take sites in this war because of the oath he had taken. Loras had tried to appeal to his duty towards his family, it had been futile, was his loyalty already as strong as his own, only had he more honour for his oath. The argument that Stannis jeopardized their duty to protect the realm by allying with Wildlings had been weak but enough to turn the scale. The Lordcommander had wanted to do the deed himself but the red witch didn't trust him anymore and the injury the traitor inflicted him wasn't healed yet, maybe it would never heal, so it had been Loras chance the chance he had waited for a long time.
Reaching the door at the end of the staircase he quickly adjusted his black cloak and harness, the last what he needed was that they would hinder him, slowing him down, he had had to let his sword by the guards at the entrance, Stannis would believe he was harmless.
Loras knocked at the door to the platform, soon after the thick oak door was opened by a guard with the burning heart on his chest.
"A message for the King from Lord Snow." Loras carefully looked the man up and down, trying to determine how much of an opponent he would be. The guard reached out with his hand but Loras pulled back. "I have orders to give this to the King personally." With a grunt and a frown the guard opened the door wide and let him in.
The platform was attached to the south tower of Castle Black and allowed the look over the plain south of the Wall. Lord Davos stood with the red witch near a table with maps, overseeing the battle. Stannis stood near the edge waving his sword to his men, Loras saw hoe the red witch approached him, laying her hands on his shoulders.
The battle was running in his brutal ways, Loras could see the lot of Wildlings fighting in the middle of Stannis army towards the green, red and grey mass of Robb Stark. It didn't look good for the young Wolf, his line was a dented crescent, he and his men held their stand but this wouldn't be for long.
"Your grace, Ser Loras is here with a message for you." The guard made an approach to his King, averting his eyes from the red woman. Sheathing his sword, Stannis turned around and walked to Loras, followed by his loyal Onion Knight.
"What is it" Stannis face looked like it was made out of stone, without any joy in it he opened his hand to Loras.
Loras's heart started to pound wildly in his chest, he felt his blood in heat, this was the moment he waited on nearly an entire year, justice. Stepping closer to Stannis he handed him the scroll, when the false King grabbed it he didn't let go of it and stepped another step to him.
On Stannis bewildered gaze Loras used his left hand to get a hold on Stannis back of head holding him firmly and ripped the hidden blade out of the scroll with the other. Bringing himself nose to nose with Stannis, he looked in the eyes of the man before ramming the blade in his carotid form below.
"He was your brother." He hissed in his face, the King's pupils wide in shock. Loras felt his warm blood running in his glove. He had thought he would feel relief or satisfaction seeing the life floating out of Renly's murder but there was nothing, nothing at all.
Then everything went fast, by the scream of Lord Davos Loras let loose of Stannis head and grabbed the hilt of the sword on his belt, drawing it out he threw the dying Stannis towards the table. The Onion Knight wasn't able to draw his sword before Loras rammed his elbow in the man's face, pushing him over the table towards his dead King. The guards which ran towards him didn't stand a chance against him, the Knight of the Flowers.
He carried out a half-turn and pierced the side of the first attacking man, most likely piercing through his liver, still in motion he ducked under the falling guard and yanked the sword up to delivered it on the head of the next man. He heard his skull crushing and the guard fell limp. Loras had now to kick the dead body with his boot in order to get the sword out of the skull. He wanted to turn around but in the motion he was hit by a bulb of hot air, like the breath of a dragon, it hurled him back, letting him hit the wall.
Slowly opening his eyes, feeling his head dizzy Loras gazed at the red witch, her hair waved in the wind and her hands were in the air. She stood at the edge of the platform frowning at him with her red dress bowing behind her. Lora's eyes widened when he saw the ruby above her breasts staring to glow fiercely, he felt heat rising in him, like his guts would be on fire, he couldn't move and his vision got diffuse.
She murmured something in a foreign language and Loras already thought it would be over with him, did he saw the powers of her before.
But then Loras Tyrell suddenly beheld a flash in the arrays of Robb Stark, a bright red lightning out of the grey and white of Robb Stark's men. The red witch trembled, her arms rocking uncontrollable, her murmuring faltering. Loras witnessed how she brought her hands to her eyes, screaming mad and then fire erupted from behind her palms and her ruby shattered in thousands pieces. Not a blink later she was a single red torch burning in the afternoon. She screamed and trembled, running wildly, searching for help and then she fell, direct over the edge down in the deep.
Loras wasn't sure about what he just witnessed, but putting the thoughts aside he rose to his feat and braced on the sword of Stannis Baratheon he limped to the table, all his body feeling like he had bad sunburn.
His Grace, King Stannis first of his name, was dead, the blood stopped floating out of his pale skin, he laid very ungracefully over the table near the edge, his Hand unconscious besides him. Loras briefly thought about if he should finish him too, but discarding the thought quickly. Lord Davos never harmed him, he was a man of honour and loyalty, he wouldn't kill such a man if it wasn't necessary.
Looking up he saw that the battle luck changed, the burning witch seemed to drag the attention to the platform and the Wildlings saw that their saviour was dead and now they ran. Loras guided the sword, which didn't glare any more to his eyes, glamour nothing more', and after a moment of silence he threw it over the edge in the deep to the witch.
He stood there a while, observing how the area between Wall and Robb Stark's army became the grave of the unorganised Wildlings.
'Renly wouldn't have let this happen'
The Admiral
Cleautus Myatt walked along the gallows which were constructed along the shore of Oakenshield. He was musing about the last year, how he had met Lady Sansa for the first time and how this faithful meeting had led to him becoming Admiral of the Sunset Sea, how Lord Tyrion had sent him to the Iron Islands and then here to the Shields. It took long to conquer these tiny islands but now it was over. The Lannister fleet and the Redwyn fleet seized the islands for nearly a year until Lord Tyrell had decided to send his son to end it all.
Myatt had thought it would be a bad idea to send a cripple to do the duties of a warrior. He had heard of him of course, a boy who breed dogs and looked at stars, not very convincing for a battle commander. But the boy had proved himself as very worthy; despite his disability he had a sharp mind and a good understanding of war. He had ordered a simultaneous attack on all four islands during the night and with that the Ironborn were defeated.
But what had surprised him even more was the hard justice the heir to Highgarden showed in the afterwards. Any other commander would have allowed the Ironborn Lords to retread to the Iron Islands after demanding hostages or bringing them as prisoners to Highgarden. He on the other hand had ordered to hang them along the shore, all of them, sailor, soldier and Lord, nobody was spared.
Myatt reached his destination, a large round of gallows with a slightly higher in the middle. In front of it stood Lord Willas, stabilized on a cane, watching the struggle of the man at the robe. Crow's Eye, Euron Greyjoy, dangled besides of his brother Victarion, gasping for breath.
Myatt stepped beside Willas Tyrell, and gazed briefly at his face, seeing a smile upon it, cloyed he looked up to the delinquent again, it was cruel not letting him dance instead of letting his neck break.
"You think it is an unnecessary cruelty of me to let him dance, Admiral?" He heard Tyrell speaking from his side, his voice wasn't cold, it was surprisingly gentle considering what he just had ordered Myatt always expected a harder tone. Cleautus didn't avert his eyes from the Iron Born.
"They aren't common pirates, they are combatant in a war, no matter what, they deserve some respect." He remembered how Lord Tywin treated his family after one of his relatives fought for the Reynes, no matter who their enemies were he thought they deserved to be treated with respect and the decency their status as nobles demanded.
"But that is exactly what they are, Admiral, pirates." A smirk formed between Tyrell's brown hair which framed his face. "We can't tolerate them disobeying the costumes of our society because they think their god wants it. They pillaged and enslaved, killing senseless. This disobedience isn't acceptable."
"You can't deal with disobedience?" Myatt asked a bit unbelieving.
"I never could, there are rules in this world, rules everyone has to follow. I am here to make an example what happens to men who neither follow law or costume."
"Says a man whose family fought at the side of an usurper and who wanted to steal a hostage from his family's ally." Myatt knew where the corpses of House Tyrell were buried, some was common knowledge some was part of the gossip he listened to during his travel to Casterly Rock a year ago.
"I never fought on Lord Renly's side, nor did I agree to his course. I held Highgarden as it was my duty as loyal son." Myatt gazed briefly at the Tyrell; Greyjoy had stopped struggling and was most likely dead so the man was more interesting. He looked tense. "I never intended to marry a hostage Lord Myatt." Willas Tyrell turned his head to him a gruesome smile on it together with cold eyes, a complete opposite to his voice. "Why should I care for a maid, my dogs might care more." Bowing his head slightly he limped away, letting Myatt stand alone.
"Creepier isn't possible, heh?" He spoke to himself, letting his eyes wander over the ring of hanging man. At least thirty Ironborn hung from the gallows, crows on their shoulders picking their eyes out. It smelled like dead and then Myatt sensed the ash, following the smell he beheld a pile of black smoke rising in the air. It seemed Tyrell already ordered to burn the ships, he had announced he would, after the men had taken the planks to build the gallows but he didn't expect this now. A shame, the ships were worth pretty much and he could have used the money to reward his men.
The first time he met Willas Tyrell he never had thought he would be able to do such, executing all Ironborn and burning their ships, but being a cripple didn't let you un-scared, no matter how beloved someone is. But maybe it all was a mask and he would change back in the nice dog breeding heir of Highgarden sooner rather than later after the battle is over, even if Myatt doubted it.
However the Ironborn were defeated at the Shields, peace would be next and he could go north to the Westerlands again.
The fire priest
Zuquid was very satisfied with the battle result. The army of the false Hero had been defeated and now he waited in the fresh taken castle of the watchers for the leader of the old blood. It had been more difficult than he had expected to find the large shadow but eventually he had found him with his wife of old blood in the capital of this realm, the fire in her hair had led him the way, R'hllors ways are always prosperous, Persuade them that he spoke the truth was another thing, he hadn't been able to tell them everything, some of it, like the knowledge of the hidden prince or the corpses of the old or the servant of the Great Other he had to battle beyond the Wall wasn't their to know. It would have created only confusion.
Convincing them had been able because of an ancient spell he had learned back in Asshai, his teachers thought it might be helpful for his mission in Westeros, the spell might faint after he left the people he cast it on, but doubt that he was right would always remain. The same spell he had used to convince the Lord of this land, Robb Stark, and his men, first he had been surprised that the leader of old blood didn't look like the description of his ancestors, without dark brown hair, but he had the sword and the aura he had searched for. Robb Stark was the leader and the only thing Zuquid had left to do to complete his mission was finding the hidden prince, activating Lightbringer and fighting the servant of the Great Other who tried to corrupt a child of the old blood so Zuquid could prevent that the great wall come down. Easy right?
He had been hopeful the last part of his mission would be not necessary when they had brought Rickon Stark back from the cannibals; unlucky for him there was a second brother and he most likely was the child the Great Other tried to corrupt.
At least the cannibals gave the army the possibility to attack the false hero a second time, and this time they had had him. He used his powers granted by R'hllor to cheer up their hearts, warming their flesh. And when he had spotted the false prophet he showed her what a true servant of R'hllor was capable of, it was a very fortunate coincidence that she had tried to kill a man, what had given him the opportunity to kill her in agreement of R'hllors Commandments and destroying the ruby she somehow had gotten from Asshai.
The creak of the door led his attention from his thoughts to the present, turning around he spotted two soldiers in grey who escorted a black haired woman in cuffs into the room and let her sit on a bench at the side. Seeking company and driven by his curiosity Zuquid approached her, giving the guards a warning gaze when they wanted to stop him, it had advantages to be an envoy.
"And who are you? Robb Stark's court foul?" She asked him snappish, looking him up and down after he sat by her side.
"No, I am Zuquid, servant of R'hllor." He introduced himself, overhearing the insult on purpose. After a few months in Westeros he slowly started to understand their culture entirely, and was able to move amongst them without the struggles he had first. His confidence had increased too, he was the only true servant of R'hllor in this realm and he had a mission.
"Asha." she answered shortly but very proud, looking at the opposite wall.
"Hello Asha." He greeted her, smiling friendly. "What are you doing here?"
"I was a prisoner of Stannis Baratheon, now I am here because Robb Stark has to decide if he wanted to keep me such."
"Why should he?" She didn't look like a naive country girl, this Zuquid had to admit, more like a warrior woman from Vahar, but why should Lord Stark, a very honourable man keep her as a prisoner?
"I am an Ironborn." She claimed proud, sitting upright.
"You are one of the traitors!" Suddenly it dawned on Zuquid, he knew what she was and a feeling of disgust spread in him.
"We are no traitors." She jumped up and if her hands wouldn't be bind she most likely had attacked him. The guards were quick, pushing her down, frowning at Zuquid to cause the trouble.
"You are traitors, of your honour and your god." He schooled the woman who sat again, gazing at him like she tried to let his head explode.
"We are Ironborn, we are free, nobody obliged to fidelity than our captain. You know nothing about us."
"I know more than you I think." He answered her calmly, 'maybe she didn't know the truth of her heritage' he thought to himself. "What are the words of your faith?"
"What is dead may never die, but rises again, harder and stronger" She replied automatically, he smiled at her knowing.
"Do you know why these are your words?" She looked clueless, not sure what he wanted from her, so he started his explanation. "Even if the faith of R'hllor is dualistic, we knew there are certain strong beings, you may call them gods, in the world, some are allied to R'hllor some to the Great Other." She wanted to interrupt him bust he gestured with his hands and with a slightly flash of his ruby she was silent and open hearted for his words. "The God you pray to is an ally of R'hllor. During the last great battle, you call it the long night; your people were called upon to fight for the side of light under the first of House Stark. In exchanged your god granted everybody who was devout to the course and proved his will to fight, drowning I think it was, the protection from the return from the death as soldier of the Great Other and his strength in battle against the dark. Drowned they were already dead once and so immune against the powers of the Others except for wounds of steal or glass. You own all member of Lord Stark's House loyalty. But you betrayal your god by attacking the lands of the Starks instead of joining them, your god will turn from you and punish you all than he is revengeful. Your Islands will suffer until you redeem yourself in his view." She wanted to reply, but before she opened her mouth the door swung open again and Robb Stark entered the room.
"My Lord" Zuquid stood up to greed him; he looked like he came straight from the battlefield, even if the battle was over for hours. "Can I..."
"Not yet." He cut him off with a gesture. "I was with the men and now I want to speak with the Lordcommander. Where is he?" He asked to his guard when the other door to the large room was opened and a boy in black came in. He was thin and with a scar in his face. For Zuquid he looked more like a Stark than Lord Stark himself, and there was an aura he could sense through his ruby, could his search for the hidden prince of old and valyrian blood already be over?
"Jon?" Lord Stark looked surprised at him, approaching the boy; it seemed in his own age quick. "We thought you are dead?"
"I nearly was." With a huge smile on his face the Lordcommander of the Nightwatch approached Lord Stark too and hugged him firmly. "A very displeased member of my own men stabbed me. Many though I would be dead, but here I am."
"So I am not the only one betrayed by a man I thought to be my own. A pleasant surprise brother, we have much to discuss and I have to thank you for your men's help."
"Yes we have, but first. Is Sansa really married to Lord Tyrion?" He asked with much doubt in his voice, turning his head slightly to his side.
"Surprisingly happy, I have no clue how." Jon looked like a hammer had hit him, open mounded he visually tried to find words. "I know, I know." Robb Stark gestured. "I can't believe it too."
"My Lord, may I try something?" Zuquid walked up to the brothers, sadly interrupting their reunion.
"Not now" Robb Stark harshly stopped him with a gesture.
"It will only take a minute, would my Lord handing Lord Jon, eh, sorry I don't know your full name" He turned to the Lordcommander.
"Snow" He replied a bit bitter.
"Thank you, Zuquid from Asshai." He introduced himself briefly before turning to Lord Stark again. "Would my Lord handing Lord Snow your sword for a moment and receive it back from Lord Snow immediately?"
Both boys looked at him like he spoke in tongues but then a spark of understanding flashing in Robb Stark's eye. Drawing his great-sword from his back he offered it to his brother, who took it hesitantly. This was the moment Zuquid waited for, the blink the boy touched the sword it started to radiate heat, surprised by the event he nearly dropped it. Zuquid couldn't suppress a smile, he found Azor Ahai and Lightbringer was revived.
"Now I can anoint all weapons of your men, they will be as effective as dragonglass against the Others." He told Lord Stark. Both brothers just stood there, not knowing what just happened.
No one
He watched how the fire consumed the slaver's city, he listened to the gruesome roars of the beasts above it and felt the heat of fire together with the sand and ash of the land blew up by the wind on his skin. It smelled like the madness of Valyria bringing the mercy of the many faced God, granted to all people of the city, slaves or old nobles, man or woman or child.
The fighting pits were gigantic coal basins exhaling dark smoke in the air which darkened the sun. Taking in the view no one seated himself on the sandy ground, leaning at a rock nearby, the one who had followed him seated themselves next to him, this would take some time.
Their mission had been easy, or so he felt. The first of his order had sent him here, in the Slavery Bay in the new forged realm of the Valyrian offspring. Arrived he had taken the face of one of her guard, enabling him to follow her everywhere, observing her, waiting for him to strike. His companions had infiltrated her guards too or had mixed with the people in the city, committing little attacks to trigger her paranoia to feat the madness in her. She had been arrogant, at the edge of the madness of her blood, but on the other hand she had been merciful, a liberator of slaves. Her unavoidable death was a shame but it had to be done so it had been spoken. She had succeeded to wake dragons out of their stony sleep, this hadn't been supposed to happen, and they couldn't allow that it happened again, so not only her dragons had been the threat.
He had waited, had followed her until the day the other Valyrian came, the boy claimed to be her long lost nephew, if it was truth or not was beyond his knowledge, but it had been time then. At this day he had taken the face of the white knight, he had approached him during his sleep, bringing him the gift of mercy. In the disguise of her advisor he had been able to guide her into the direction planed, telling her the boy would be an imposer, asking her why she, the mother of dragons, should follow a boy with blue dyed hair who hadn't any proof if he was who he claimed.
It had worked; she had confronted him at the next day, asking the questions he had whispered in her ear, offending him deeply. The boy was as arrogant as she was; the children of Valyria all did have a megalomania matching nothing in the world.
The plan of the puppet-masters in the back had been good, bringing them together to gain as much power as possible and then attack the land at the other side of the sea. The Knowing had warned them. The allies and minds behind all this had already received the gift, he had received this messages a few days ago. The one who had worked with words to prepare the lands to conquer, gaining allies and potential friends had fallen by the hand of a guard when he had tried to kill a man he once wanted as ally for all this, or mediator between both. The other men in the old cities of Valyria had received the gift too, in Pentos, Lys and in Tyrosh, all of them were dead.
He flinched slightly when one of the walls of the great Pyramid broke down, burying a part of the city, the smaller pyramids already had broken down on the houses of the people, he heard their screams and cries for mercy, but nobody listened. He pitied them, seeing the mountains of Meereen crashing on them.
The black dragon appeared behind the great pyramid, gliding over the city, heading quick to his brother. The green one flew at him, jaw open and teeth twinkling, ready to spit fire at his older blood. After the seed of mistrust had been planted the old Valyrian madness did her part. Their end had been sealed when the green dragon escaped his prison, with some help of his companions of course and had chose the boy as his rider.
Driven by jealously and the impression he had tried to steal her precious child the girl demanded him back. The boy had denied, claiming the dragon's choice would be proof of his superior claim, and so the fight had started. Driven by the madness all of Valyria had deep inside of them, they destroyed each other, taking the city and all who lived in it with them. No one could see it from his place; the white dragon was already dead, lying on one of the dooms of the Temple of the Graces.
They had given him a poisoned goat for his meal and even if it was hard to poison a dragon he died because the Knowing shared their knowledge and experience with them.
He now saw how the last dragons wedged in each other, their claws ramming in the others flesh and he even could see how their rider struggled against the movements of their riding animals. But the beasts couldn't stay in the air with their claws in each other; they fell deep in the burning ruins of the city.
A sudden firestorm and a last gasp of the black one and then it was over, their screams ceased their life most likely ended. He wanted to send his comrades-in-arms in the city, they should see if they were really dead and if not bringing them the gift. But not now the fire should cease first, there was no use if they received the gift by accident.
He was happy, it was over, the dragons were dead, the last Valyrians were dead, once when the Valyrian Madness destroyed or enslaved millions the first of his order had brought the gift for the first time, and his acolytes had brought down Valyria, now his descendents ended the rise of a new Valyria.
Their work was finished, now they could follow their normal day again.
Zuquid
The cold was cruel, Zuquid stomped through the snow beyond the Wall towards the destination his ruby led him. He had performed an old spell so R'hllor would show him the right way, he knew what would expected of him, maybe even the last sacrifice. They had let their horses behind in the ruins of a small village and were now on foot.
"How long will we need until we reaching our destination?" Jon Snow suddenly asked from behind him, he and twenty of his men volunteered to join him in his search and protecting him. He was lucky that they were there, he hadn't the slightest urge to wander alone through the forest with beasts and Others, besides the wolf of Jon Snow had surprising powers. He sensed them already with the wolf of Lord Stark or his brother Rickon. They were like protectors, triggering old powers in their blood beyond imagination. He hadn't felt much of it with Sansa Lannister, only something like empathy, but with her brothers this powers were gigantic, nearly matching his, but in a different way.
"Not very long, I feel we will reach our goal soon." He answered Snow's question, and turned his head back on their way until he heard Lord Snow coming closer.
"Can I talk to you?"
"Of course you can." He already knew what he would ask, after he revealed him that he was Azor Ahai and opened him the path to his destiny there were always questions. He had explained to him that he was the hero to fight the Great Other, maybe even this task right now would be the fulfilment of it.
"You say I am Azor Ahai reborn but why me? I am a bastard, not the material of great heroes." It was always the same question, why me? Zuquid had thought about revealing his most likely heritage to the boy, that one of his parents was from valyrian blood, but knowing the history of Westeros he had decided not to do so. It could cause more problems than it would solve, considering who would come into question for the boy's parents.
"You are from the old blood, a watcher of this world, isn't that enough? Is the circumstance that your name is Snow really so important?"
"I suppose not." Jon Snow murmured in his scarf, but Zuquid had the suspicion he would ask again soon. "So what exactly is our task then?" He asked a bit more casually.
"A servant of the Great Other found a way to destroy the Wall; we are on our way to stop him." He replied short, not wanting to tell him from the boy's brother who was most likely the tool his foe wanted to use. "It's not a horn if you want to ask, something much more precious. If we succeed your brother will be able to fight back the main host of our enemy at the Wall and all of his will be over." Much more precious, 'only who built it can destroy it', was the old saying and so the great Other needed someone of the old blood to destroy the Wall.
"Forever?" Jon Snow asked with a bit of hope in his voice
"No, just for now, the Great Other can't be slain just unimpeded." Zuquid destroyed his hopes regretting it. "In a few thousand years he will most likely try again."
"And these things will work?" Another voice got through from behind to Zuquid's ear, turning around he gazed at Loras Tyrell, pointing at his sword.
"Yes, after Lightbringer had all his powers restored I was able to anoint the entire steal in your host. Now it is effective against the Others, similar to dragonglass, that's why you could call it dragonsteal if you want." Zuquid wanted to elaborate further when a sudden feeling stopped him.
"We are at our destination." He looked up to the entrance of a cave in a hill of snow.
"You are sure?" Lord Snow asked at his side, after receiving a nod from him he turned to his men. "Secure the parameter!" Zuquid witnessed how the men of the Nightwatch swarmed out, himself deep in thoughts about what would happen next.
Suddenly there was a scream, turning to the noise Zuquid beheld a pale looking creature attacking one of the men, the black brother rammed his sword in the body of the attacker and he felt limp immediately. But now there were more and more of them attacking the brave men.
"I must in the cave, now." He sternly spoke to Lord Snow who didn't look sure what to do; he had already his valyrian sword with the wolf-head at the hilt in one hand, his white Direwolf in attack-posture at his side. He turned his head left and right, but only could see what Zuquid saw, his men fighting a superior number of wights, but with success, the dragonsteal let them die by the tiniest scratch. Then he turned to the Knight of the Flowers at his side.
"Lead the attack, I escort the priest." Grabbing Zuquid's arm and accompanied by the wolf Lord Snow dragged him towards the entrance; he nearly fell over his red robe but steadied himself quick.
Arrived at the entrance Lord Snow quickly slew a man in a hood who tried to stop them. In the cave a horrific scene awaited them. In one corner laid the corpses of two children, a boy and a teenage girl, frozen to ice but with visible injuries at the heads and frozen blood in their hair. In a different corner, leaned at the wall laid creatures from different kind, Zuquid recognized them out of descriptions he once read about the Old, but this one wasn't graceful, they were apathetic like in a deep sleep with open eyes.
The white wolf of Jon Snow started to run in the dark of the cave, following him through the system of caves covered with roots they eventually found him together with another wolf.
"My brother's Direwolf." Lord Snow exhaled, gazing to him with fury in his eyes. "What didn't you tell me?"
"Whatever happens, take your brother and flee, bring him back to the Wall." He explained quick, feeling somebody very powerful approaching. "I will follow if I succeed and if not." Zuquid bowed deep. "It was an honour." Zuquid stormed in the next room of the cave, not looking back or recognizing the boys shaking fury, carefully not to fall over the roots on the ground he finally reached his enemy.
He looked like a corpse, his body skeletonised and his clothes rotten, but Zuquid could feel who he was, the servant of Great Other. Behind him on a throne of roots a boy with thin legs was seated, a giant man with a beard at his feet, the eyes of the boy were closed.
"You are not welcome here." The corpse spoke to him his only red eye glaring holes in his. "I am the last Greenseer and this is my realm."
Zuquid moved his feet to have a better stand his arms in front of him. "I am Zuquid of Asshai, servant of R'hllor, and you will vanish!" He screamed at him, trying to control the fear creeping in his bones, praying to R'hllor for enough might to beat him.
"Bran!" Zuquid heard Lord Snow shouting from behind, using the moment of surprise of his foe he gathered his will-power and hurled a red flame at him, throwing him back.
"Take him and run!" He shouted to Azor Ahai, running to the stumbled corpse and grabbing the ruin of his face with both hands, feeling his skin burning under his palms. "Run!"
A Hit at his chest let him fly through the cave and he landed only a feet away from the wall, his head was dizzy but he could see how the giant took the boy in his arm and Lord Snow led them out of the cave the wolfs at their sides.
"No!" The scream of the corpse felt like he wanted to melt his brain, recite an old prey to R'hllor Zuquid tackled the Great Other's servant, throwing him at the ground again. He managed to straddle him; ripping his ruby from his neck he pressed it in the centre of the corpse's chest.
"By R'hllor I order you to vanish from this world!" He started to cast an exorcism, the ruby started to glow stronger than ever, eliciting inhuman screams from the corpse, he tried to shake him of but it was too late, his power was broken, he would finally find himself at the gates of the afterlife.
Under his body his foe turned slowly to ash, but this had a price, Zuquid felt how his life was sucked out of him, the spell cost more than he expected, by the rate he would die soon, but he didn't care, his mission was completed, the forces at the Wall would strike back the Great Other's host and the menace would be over for the next generations, what was his life compared to this.
The cave started to quake, the cave collapsed, smiling Zuquid realizing that R'hllor had decided to bury the last weapon which could destroy the Wall, the throne of the olds.
His life was ending when the last part of his foe turned to ash; he closed his eyes in anticipation of the next world.
The former Sellsword
Checking the bands at his leather armour Bronn concentrated himself on what he would have to do, attacking the host of the Faith Militia in front of the gates, the bells of the keep would inform Ser Jaime of the attack and he would in turn attack the walls, storming the city and crushing the Faith Militia. Bronn just had to retread as soon as the reinforcements for the Sparrows at the keep came from the walls, a nice diversionary manoeuvre. He looked over his men, mostly knights they had brought from the Westerlands but also some of his own men, trained in more skills than common knights.
Satisfied with his armour, he didn't wear the plate armour, it was too heavy and for him only suitable for walking up and down the wall in case of arrows, he wanted to turn to the gates when the Imp approached him.
"Bronn, a word." He gestured him to follow slightly away from the man. Leaning at the wall of the corner they had reached he cocked his ears. "I assume you have some of your own men under them." His liege-lord gestured with his head to the group they just left and after Bronn nodded he continued. "I want you and some of your men to left the group, after you secure victory of course and march to the Great Sept of Baelor."
"And why?" Bronn asked curious but could think of what the Imp wanted.
"I want you bring me the High Septon. Secretly, let all other think he is dead. Bring him in a black cell."
"Good, but why should I risk my life, it will be very hard to drag him here." He pointed with his finger on the ground under his heels, smirking at the Imp.
"Because somebody has to pay for this siege, and I decided it will be him. If people think he is dead nobody will care anymore and I can thank him properly for scaring Sansa. And of course the amount of gold I will pay you." Tyrion told him, opening his palms to him. Understanding his feeling, the siege was hell since the wolf-girl and the young Queen decided to show compassion to the lower ones and had rationed the food Bronn bowed his head.
"One High Septon, on the way." Bronn bowed slightly, smirking again and turned to leave.
"Good luck." The Imp shouted after him.
-##-
The sally had been easier than he thought, they killed the most of the Sparrows before they even had the chance to alert more, actually pretty bad considering the real purpose of the attack, but some unlucky lad had been able to blow his horn before getting an axe between his scapulae. After the reinforcements arrived he had sent the men back in the keep and had run with six other men to the Sept.
The security had been ludicrous, that's why he now stood in the main hall, the High Septon and a few of his followers in front of him, the blood of their guards spilled over the marble floor.
Carefully stepping not to slip at the blood he approached the men who threw curses at his head.
"Do you hear that?" He asked him, referring to the noise from the walls. "That is Ser Jaime and a bunch of really angry soldiers taking the city." He explained him clearly, not going slower. "Soon your little pious Militia will be a distance memory again, and the Imp wishes to have you in a black cell for the occasion. With these words he rammed his fist into the man's face feeling bones splinter with joy.
"You monster." One of the Septas cried out when her leader fell unconscious to the floor. Smirking Bronn turned around, gesturing with his thump over his shoulder.
"No witnesses, and make sure one of them is mistaken for the High Sparrow." Whit this words he marched out of the room, not listening to the screams of the soon not witnesses. He reached a window and looked outside, leaning in the frame. Bronn observed how the troops of Jaime Lannister marched through the streets of the city, the Faith Militia fleeing from them. The battle was over before it really began, Lord Tyrion will be satisfied and he would have time to enjoy the wealth, he had acquired the last year, soon.
The Sphinx
Sarella stood in one of the small groups of novices around the tables in Archmaester Ebrose's class, slowly guiding her knife over the breast of the corpse on the table. The Archmaester behind his silver mask observing them closely, how each group tried to find the right way to open the bodies. She wasn't sure if the ankle was right so she looked to her left to the novice from the wall, the overweight watcher stepped from one foot to the other, nervous and with a pale face, he clearly tried his best to hold his composer and not to look weak by fainting. She considered him as a friend; Sam was nice, friendly, what was really surprising considering what she knew about him. Who his father was, how he fought beyond the Wall. Sam had been arrived with the corpse of Maester Aemon and triggered the disappearance of Archmaester Marwyn nearly a year ago. He knew her secret, she wasn't sure how but he knew that Alleras the boy from the Summer Islands was Sarella Sand daughter of Oberyn Martel, he had promised not to tell anyone and gave her a prerequisite for his word. He had told her from the baby that wasn't his and the alleged mother's, since then she trusted him.
He himself considered himself as a coward, Sarella found this stupid, what a coward would guide a girl and her baby through the woods hunted by Others or being here, doing his duty instead of just deserting when he had been in the Free Cities? He was easily scared yes and he had a weak stomach; he had nearly fainted during his first lesson with Ebrose when he had to cut open a corpse for the first time, but he get a grip. She had helped him, letting him cut open rats and little animals first so he could overcome his problems. Lately she had found herself helping him most of the times with such issues or tutoring him with the bow when he followed the orders of his Lordcommander; in exchanged he helped her with the fields she wasn't so familiar with, money or astrology or in the library.
The fruits of their labour were already visible; his chain had already eight links. He had made a record in the citadel for most links in one year, some of the Archmaester even talked about asking permission by the Nightwatch to release him from his vow so he could stay and maybe become an Archmaester someday. By the rate they died at the moment it would be most likely sooner rather than later.
After Marwyn's disappearance Walgrave had been the first who died, he drowned in his bathtub before the late Archmaester Pycelle had returned to the Citadel and took, a very convincing coincidence, his position.
She had to admit his death was her doing. The lecher somehow discovered what she was and blackmailed her, apparently without the Lannister bribe he hadn't had enough money for a whore so she was supposed to serve as such. He had threatened he would expose what she was to the other Archmaester and would making sure she would be punished, not to mention the humiliation of her father, if she wouldn't let him have his way with her. A bad mistake of him, her father had made sure all of his daughters were able to fight their own battles and she had the bow for such purpose. The old man hadn't seen what hit him.
Sarella's father would object she had killed him to quick, was he the one with the tending for slowly painful punishments. She knew he had poisoned Gregor Clegane with the first part of a two part poison, not a year after his sister's death, damning him to a life with never ceasing headaches and uncontrollable temper tantrums. She figured so much he had planned to administer the second part in the near future before the first part lost his effect, causing a very slow extremely painful death for the monster, only a little dose would have been enough, a small cut not more. But the Imp surprisingly had held his promises and Clegane's boy now rot in the desert.
The rest of her father's greed for revenge had died a year ago when Tywin Lannister had found his end, even if he hadn't explicit wrote it, in one of his encrypted letters to her, she could figured out herself that it had been his doing, he poisoned the man responsible for Elia's dead, and as a cherry on top the son he had despite had inherited everything. It even seemed the Imp was actually really good in what he was doing and House Lannister didn't fell in the disgrace her father hoped for. Her sister had also wrote her that uncle Doran forbid her father to act further against the throne and the coming peace, he even had set men on Arianne's heels to make sure she wouldn't do anything stupid, not when peace was possible, justice was served and the winter arrived, making the sun, Dorne's greatest weapon nearly useless.
Back in the present Sarella gave Sam a demanding gaze and he responded with a nod, she had the right angle; once again he was the only one in her group not being incompetent. She began to open the female corpse's chest, frowning at Lazy Leo when he started to play with one of the breasts. Sam gripped him tightly at his shoulder and pulled him a bit away a stern gaze suppressing any objection.
-##-
"What do you think happened to Pycelle?" Lazy Leo asked in the round, his blond hair hanging in his face. He had started to like to develop conspiracy theories since the Archmaester started to die and once again he decided to bless them with one.
He, Sam, Armen and she sat at their table in the Quill and Tankard, warm cider in front of them, it was too cold outside to sit in the garden the winter had hit Oldtown.
"Maybe the Imp decided he wants more than just depose a disliked Grand Maesters, maybe he decided to kill him because he knew something." Amen gave to consideration his pointy nose wriggling by the smell of the cider. Sarella leaned back, listening to her friends, holding her mask of empty expression.
"Lord Snow once told me about the time he met him. He meant he would be a decent man." Sam hesitantly told the round, receiving a lithe smile from Leo.
"He is his brother-in-law; of course he has to say something nice about him." Leo objected, taking another sip of his cider before continuing. "I think the Imp want power over the Citadel, he started with Pycelle, because he figured it out and the Imp won't stop until he has it."
"He just deposed one Grand Maester, he even let him alive. He doesn't want control over the Citadel." Sarella found this argument ridiculous and wanted to add more when Roone marched in, his robe white of fresh snow.
"Hey, do you heard about what happened at the wall?"
The Huntsmen
The great hall of Winterfell was warm and homely, a nice diversion to the last month in the cold. He raised his cup with the other men around him when the young Wolf toasted on the men who had fallen. He sat at the head of his table, his brothers left and right of him. The older Bran didn't pay attention and chattered with Shireen Baratheon who sat at his other side together with her mother and her new Lord-protector Davos Seaworth. She had been caught in Castle Black after the battle in which her father was killed by Loras Tyrell. Lord Stark treated her like an honourable guest together with his mother and even the onion knight, Randyll thought at least he should have been imprisoned but Lord Stark had thought differ and was backed up when the Imp had sent a pardon for everyone who was ready to bend the knee to the King. Lord Davos had been made Lord-protector for the girl who had been granted Storm's End, even the title of Lord of the Rainforest the knight had been allowed to keep.
Maybe it was fair, he had been loyal and Tarly could respect that, maybe he would even have a drink with him later. Who he really disliked was the boy sitting next to Rickon Stark, Lord Snow, the now infamous Lordcommander of the Nightwatch, he couldn't say the boy was incapable but Randyll hated the fact that he had sent his son to be trained as a Maester, no matter what; no son of his was supposed to wearing a chain. He had confronted the boy about that, only receiving a snappy reply he could do with his men like a wished and he would underestimate his son and his bravery, ridiculous.
But the boy was the Lordcommander of the Nightwatch and had fought well when the Others tried to attack the Wall. He might failed to bring back the red priest but luckily arrows and blades had been 'sanctified' earlier and so it had been more like target-practice for the marksmen than a real battle, only the Ironborn who, out of nowhere, had decided to fight at their side demanded to attack the enemies directly, storming out of the gate they had even succeeded to kill a lot of them. They were pardoned too, the only Ironborn who hadn't been pardoned and allowed to return home had been Theon Greyjoy; his head had been taken at the Dreadfort before the first battle of Castle Black.
Now Northerner, Westermen, men of the Reach and Ironborn celebrated their victory in the fresh rebuilt hall of Winterfell. A small part of their host had remained at the Wall to overlook the Wildlings' way back beyond the Wall, only women and children had been allowed to stay if they bend the knee, not much had.
Tarly himself intended to return home as soon as everything was arranged, he had enough of the cold and the deprivations of war, he had done his duty and at home his wife waited for him and he had to deal with the bastard of his son she wrote about in her last letter. There was no way he would let him or the mother stay at Horn Hill, he would send her and the child back to Castle Black as soon as possible, should the Lordcommander deal with it.
Letting his gaze wander again it fell again at the new Lady of Storm's End who apparently started to play a game with the Stark-boy.
'Greyscale and cripple together' he thought before spotting the Greatjon drinking with a bunch of Lannister knights, and he decided to pay Lord Davos his respect before going to bed, he was tired.
Hope you liked it but first
I tried to knot up some story lines here and finish everything not related to Sansa and Tyrion, because the story is supposed to focus on them
It became more a massacre than I expected first but so it was, the supernatural stuff really increased to, but somehow I had to beat the bedtime-monster
I took some inspiration from the old Persian religion with Mazda etc. and used it for the Faith of R'hllor
Not all is my opinion about the books or the characters in it, but for the sake of the story it had to be like this
Don't forget this are all POV of the characters not necessary the truth (if there is a truth)
I had some motivation issues that's why I wrote this all in one day, so Review, it took me with editing at the other day more than sixteen hours
I would like to hear your opinions
And by the way thanks for reviews and alerts
I am in the mid of my finals so there won't be a new chapter next week, but don't worry I am not done with the story yet
If the story reach over 95 reviews I will see if I can update sooner