The King Who Never Was
Jon dreamt of the weirwood tree at Harrenhal. Harren the Black, an impious man, built a walled godswood, twenty acres large, six times greater than the godswood of the Starks. But the three acres of trees at Winterfell had lasted eight thousand years, and Jon took comfort from the brooding beauty of that primal forest. At Harrenhal, the godswood was dark and dank, trees sucking at a small stream and shrinking back in fear from the heart tree, a weirwood with a bone white face full of hate, a twisted mouth and flaring eyes. Thirteen deep marks were carved on the bark near the red eyes, and in his dreams, the heart tree bled and screamed.
A weirwood could live forever if undisturbed but should anything live that long, Jon wondered. What horrors had it seen? Did it suffer when Black Harren built his folly on the corpses of thousands of men? Or was it when Aegon burnt the towers and walls down? He reached out with his hands and the tree shuddered in agony.
"The weirwood fears you." The speaker was a gaunt thin man with bone white skin. Brynden Rivers enjoyed his riddles.
"Why? I have done nothing to it." Jon said.
Bloodraven snorted. "Time does not matter for a weirwood tree. The children of the forest bound their greenseers to the mightiest weirwoods. By doing so, the greenseers would live forever, and see the past and the future. But they needed to be wed to the trees to do so."
"Wed to the trees? Why would anyone choose that?" Jon said.
"Who said they had a choice? Greenseers made sacrifices to protect their people, the children of the forest." Bloodraven said.
"Maester Luwin said the children have been gone for thousands of years, and nothing is left of them but the faces carved in trees." Jon said.
"Nothing is ever truly gone, Jon Snow. Not the children, or dragons or magic. How could you forge a Valyrian steel blade with your blood?" Bloodraven said.
"I have the blood of the dragon." Jon said.
"And how can that be?" he asked.
"There were three male Targaryens alive at my birth - a mad king, a six year old boy, and the Prince of Dragonstone. Rhaegar kidnapped Lyanna Stark, who I once thought was my aunt. She died in Dorne where I was born." Jon said.
"You are more than the child of a dragon and a wolf. It is time for you to discover who you are. Go to the Isle of Faces. You will find him there." Bloodraven said.
"Must you speak in riddles? Who will I find on the Isle of Faces?" Jon said.
"You will find yourself." Bloodraven smirked. "Do you wish to save House Stark? To spare your brothers and sisters from torment? Then go. He is waiting."
Five days later, Robb arrived at Harrenhal. Jon had dispatched a force of five hundred men to escort his brother from the Inn at the Crossroads but he need not have bothered. All of the Riverlands were at peace - from the northern tip of the Trident to Blackwater Rush, from Maidenpool to the mountainous border with the Westerlands. For the first time in almost a year, the three main roads of the Riverlands - the river Road, the gold Road, and the kingsroad - were clear from bandits and Lannister men. Inns, keeps and holdfasts offered visitors fire, bread and salt, and all knew about the Northern victory and the forest of dead men south of Harrenhal.
It wasn't much of a forest, Jon thought. True, it stretched for miles in every direction but only because the first man who paced must have been a giant. Jon had ordered a sellsword hung every fifty paces, but there were less than 20 a mile. Either his men counted poorly or they had leaped in every step. Two hundred and fifty bodies hung from trees and makeshift gallows, and most were Brave Companions. Jon executed only two dozen Lannister men, and a smattering of bandits too stupid or brutal to change their ways.
In the last few days, a steady rain had fallen from Harroway to Stony Sept. Septons declared that it was the Father blessing the fields with a bountiful harvest. Bards and minstrels sang that the Mother and the Maiden cried for the sufferings of the Riverlands. The smallfolk whispered that the Bloody Wolf had conjured the storms from the highest tower at Harrenhal with ritual sacrifice. Jon thought the explanations silly. The weather was the weather. And if the rain fed grass, fields and rivers, smallfolk could till their lands and fishermen catch a greater bounty. The rain lashing down in heavy waves thoroughly ruined the effect of the forest of dead bodies. Soggy men, even broken corpses, did not frighten anyone.
Fifteen hundred prisoners were captured at the Trident and sixty more at Harrenhal. Those who were not highborn would be released back west either to the Golden Tooth or Deep Den. The captives had sworn oaths that they would never attack the North or the Riverlands, but the wagons could carry only a few hundred at a time. Highborn knights and lords would be held at Riverrun, although Jon allowed Ser Herrock and any other crippled men to return home.
Life at Harrenhal settled into a simple pattern. The granaries stocked food and stores to prepare for future campaigns. Bands of scouts travelled the kingsroad, reporting no Lannisters as far south as Sow's Horn. Men trained in Flowstone Yard, although the pikemen were unable to execute anything other than the most basic maneuvers. Arya won victories beating up other squires and carried only Needle and not Gram.
Robb Stark was greeted with a joyous uproar on his return. The Northmen carried back trophies of their victory - silver belt buckles, bracelets, rings and ivory drinking horns. The Manderly brothers displayed the torn sail of the golden kraken which they planned to hang at half mast at White Harbour. Robb had been generous with the spoils taken from the Lord Captain of the Iron Flint. Robin Flint, the Manderlys, and the Greatjon divided the full plate, the cloak of gold cloth, the war axe, and long sword. Robb kept the great helm, and two dumb brutish eyes frozen in death could seen behind the kraken's face.
After the wild boasting and loud hurrahs subsided, Robb repaired to the castellan's chambers to speak with Jon. He and Grey Wind paced back and forth. Robb waited until Olyvar Frey had made certain that no one could hear.
"I meant to return earlier but I was delayed at the Inn at the Crossroads. The Rivermen came to speak with me." Robb said.
Jon raised his eyebrows. "Aren't they at Riverrun? Lord Mooton and Lord Darry returned to their lands, but the other houses attended Hoster Tully's funeral."
"The Riverlords remain at Riverrun. They have to pledge loyalty to Edmure, as the new Lord Tully. But their sons and heirs came to the Inn at the Crossroads." Robb said.
"Which ones?" Jon asked.
"Almost all of them. Marq Piper, Hugo Vance, Patrek Mallister, Brynden and Lucas Blackwood, Hendry Bracken, and half a dozen others. They wish me to be King of the Trident." Robb said.
Jon burst out laughing. Discord in an army was never positive but the situation was amusing.
"What is so funny?" Robb asked.
"Robb, everyone else is playing this game of thrones and fighting to be King - Renly, Stannis, Joffrey. They say that Balon Greyjoy crowned himself King of the Iron Islands. You on the other hand have fallen arse backward into two offers of kingship." Jon said.
Robb's expression shifted from annoyance to laughter. The two brothers chuckled before Robb, still smiling, continued. "Jon, what do you think? They don't trust Edmure to defend the Riverlands. They think him unable to match Tywin Lannister."
The Rivermen were right, but that was not Jon's concern. "Robb, when we were children, I swore to stand by your side in battle. Do you want the Iron Throne? If you do, then I will fight with you. But tell me your thoughts first before I give my opinion."
"I do not want a throne, Jon. I saw Robert Baratheon at Winterfell. Father always said he was the greatest warrior of the land and a giant among princes. But after he became king, he was just a fat drunk. I want the Riverlands to be at peace. I want Sansa back home. But I do not want to sit on a chair made of swords. Who would?" Robb said.
"You would rule with honor and justice. But becoming king has nothing to do with such things. The Riverlands are a thousand miles away from Winterfall, but that is not the real problem. The greater issue is the borders. The Riverlands shares borders with six of the seven Kingdoms - the North, the Westerlands, the Vale, the Iron Islands, the Reach and the Stormlands. Anyone who holds the Riverlands must have support from other regions. Otherwise, you would be like the Storm King fighting with House Hoare over the Trident." Jon said.
"But I do not want the Rivermen to suffer." Robb said.
"What did you think of the Tyrells and the men of the Reach?" Jon said.
"They have many knights and their army is far larger than ours. The men boast about their fighting skills but so do our bannermen. Mace and Loras Tyrell are idiots but Willas, Ser Garlan and Margaery are no fools. And neither is Lady Olenna. She took the raven you sent from Golden Tooth. If she were a man, she would rule the Reach." Robb said.
"The Tyrells have no reason to want more bloodshed in the Riverlands. If you demand peace for House Tully and their bannermen, they may agree. The Tyrells want to rule over the Seven Kingdoms, not fight endless wars." Jon said.
"Aye, there is another matter, Jon." Robb hesitated. "When I was fighting at the Neck, I missed the Lady Talisa. I wish to court her, and to ask for her hand in marriage."
"And does the lady feel the same? Or will your words chase her back to the Reach?" Jon jested.
"Watch it, Snow. I have been told that as Lord of Winterfell, I am a great prize in marriage." Robb feigned a pompous tone.
"By who? The Greatjon?" Jon said. They laughed again. "Robb, I am glad for you, but I would wait a moon. I do not think the bannermen will be angered, but it would be best to delay until the war in the Riverlands is over. We do not know if we will need allies in marriage. Talisa is kind and bright but she brings no swords or spears."
"She is from a noble family in Volantis." Robb said.
"That means her family is two thousand miles away. Volantis is known for their wealth, trade and slaves but not their skills at arms." Jon said.
"You are right, Jon. My mother says that I cannot marry for love. But the heart wants what the heart wants." Robb said.
"Lady Catelyn is right in war, Robb. If the North must fight, your duty is to your men and to defend your smallfolk and lands. But in peace, you can marry Talisa." Jon said.
"I wish we could find more swords. I have heard nothing from Ser Robar. Nor from Lord Bolton. If Bolton joins Lord Tywin's army, and more recruits come from the Crownlands, the Lannister force would be greater than fifteen thousand again." Robb lamented.
"I have an idea." Jon said.
"More of your pikemen? How goes their training?" Robb said.
"Not well. It will take many moons to shape them into a fighting force. I tried to teach them to turn right. After the order, half the men faced right. Half went left. We were lucky that their pikes were pointed at the sky, else it would have been bloodier than the Red Fork." Jon said.
The brothers laughed for the third time. Grey Wind and Ghost shook their heads, wondering why their masters were so silly. The little cousins of the wolf pack would follow their orders.
"There is a way to get spears, but only after several moons. Still it is worth pursuing." Jon said. He told his brother more.
The two brothers walked down to Flowstone Yard, near the Wailing Tower. Men, boys, and Arya drilled for war in the giant yard. Harrenhal was so immense that many quintains were set up near the stables for squires to practice charging with a shield and lance. The central quintain had a small metal ring and the best riders tilted at the rings. A flat field was set aside for lines of archers to shoot at five butts, circular mounds placed one hundred fifty yards away. The targets were five crudely colored rings, and men cheered when the arrows hit the center yellow band. Pikeman trained outside the castle, given the loud drumming, and the need for more space.
Nymeria perked up at the sight of her brothers. The she-wolf was forbidden to help her skinny little girl in fighting other children with silver claws. Not that her aid was needed. Arya had easily beaten a boy with a black pitchfork and another wearing two porcupines. Nymeria wondered why anyone would choose a sigil other than a dire wolf.
Jon cleared his throat. Arya, alert as ever, shifted sideways on the balls of her foot. She turned, sword in her hand, ready to pounce when she saw Jon and Robb. She smiled, and gave an impish bow. "Jon, do you have any duties for your squire?" Arya said.
"Actually, sister. We need him." Jon pointed to the boy that Arya had been fighting. Edric Dayne nervously placed his blunted blade on the ground.
They retired to the Hall of a Hundred Hearths. Ser Beric and Thoros of Myr sat with Edric, facing the Starks. Guards had dragged a small porcine man in chains there on Jon's orders, and the Winter Town boys stood ready.
"Lord Stark. House Lannister will ransom me. The Old Lion looks upon my house with great favor." Amory Lorch simpered in a high, thin voice.
"Your brother, Ser Lorent, said the same before I ordered him dragged to his death. Although I believed he threatened me first with Lord Tywin's revenge. Chett, was that before or after he called me a bastard?" Jon said.
"Lorent called you a bastard before and after the threat. He also swore that he would escape and take your head. And that his brother, Ser Amory, would kill you a dozen times." Chett said. The piggy Amory blanched with fear.
"We're not going to kill you, Lorch." Jon smiled. "Edric Dayne, you have pledged your service to me. I wish you to deliver Amory Lorch to Sunspear and House Martell. I am sure Prince Doran and his brother will have questions for him."
Edric looked to Beric Dondarrion for guidance. "This is justice, lad. Lorch is no true knight. He took part in the murder of the royal family at King's Landing." Beric said.
"I only followed orders." Lorch blubbered. "The Mountain killed the baby and his mother."
"Yes, and you stabbed a three year old girl to death." Robb said with disgust.
"Whose orders?" Jon said. "Who directed you to kill the children?"
Lorch looked around wild-eyed, hoping for any glimmer of a reprieve or mercy. He found none. "Who directed you?" Jon asked again.
"Lord Tywin. He ordered Elia Martell and her children slain, and their bodies presented to Robert Baratheon." Lorch said.
Jon nodded. "Edric, tomorrow, you will go to Maidenpool. You cannot sail directly to Dorne. You should go to Gulltown, and take a ship to Pentos. From there, find a ship going to Sunspear."
"You will need an armed escort - at least half a dozen men. Do you wish to return to Dorne, Lord Dondarrion?" Robb asked.
"Lord Stark, I barely remember my castle in the Marches, or the eyes of my betrothed. She was beautiful but I cannot recall her face. My place is with the White Wolf." Beric said.
"Ser Emmon Cuy may serve. Better he go to Dorne than fight against his friends in the Reach. The Forresters could escort them with other loyal Northmen." Jon said.
"My Lords, I am happy to serve, but what message should I bring to Prince Doran?" Edric said.
Robb thought for a moment. "Tell the Martells that House Stark wishes to make an alliance. Amory Lorch is a gift captured by my brother. We have beaten the Lannisters in many battles, but Dornish swords and spears would help us defeat them for good. Jon, what would you add?"
"When you arrive at Sunspear, announce to the city that the North have sent Rhaenys's killer to Dorne. Ask the Martells if they want to avenge their sister and her children." Jon said.
Jon finished the letter to Maege Mormont. He missed dinner again, but also avoided Lady Stark and the Rivermen. Many Southron knights and lords expressed shock at the treatment of the Brave Companions. He had given the Bloody Mummers an easier death than they deserved, Jon thought. His only regret was that the justice was not complete. The little thieves were hanged, but the great ones escaped.
Ghost heard the rustle at the door first, but the dire wolf bounded over and gave the entrant a great big lick. Jon chuckled at Arya's cry of surprise. "Sister, you cannot sneak up on a dire wolf. Their senses are far better than ours."
"Geroff, Ghost." Arya said. Nymeria snuck into the room and took a large bite of Ghost's roast chicken. 'You weren't at dinner."
"I am trying to get more swords for Robb. Most of the prisoners from the Battle of Oxcross and capture of the Tooth have been released. There are only fifty captives left at the castle, and most are highborn ladies. We still need a garrison at the Golden Tooth to secure that pass, and demand supplies but Lady Maege can send the bulk of her forces to Harrenhal." Jon said.
"Do you think the Dornish will send us men?" Arya said.
Jon shook his head. "Not any time soon. Edric should arrive in Gulltown in less than a week. But it is a much longer trip to Pentos. He has to sail to Essos to avoid the waters from Dragonstone to Storm's End. It is a thousand miles from Pentos to Sunspear. If the winds are good, and the ships make no other stops, the whole trip will take a full moon's time. And for Dorne to raise an army, and find enough ships to bring them to Maidenpool, that would take much longer."
"But why did you send Edric off then?" Arya said.
"One, Edric deserves better than to be a dead man's squire. And two, Rhaenys Targaryen is beloved still in Dorne. It is justice that Elia Martell's brothers punish Lorch for his crimes."
"At dinner, my lady mother sat me next to Edric Dayne and Lyman Darry. Edric asked her if he could write to me from Dorne." Arya said.
"Did Lord Darry and Lord Dayne fight a duel for your hand? And should I call you the Lady of Starfall now?" Jon jested.
His sister stuck out her tongue. "I do not want to be betrothed." Arya said.
"You have only twelve name days." Jon said.
"Sansa was betrothed at thirteen." Arya said grimly. "I want to be free to make my own way. To see the world."
Jon thought his little sister was much like Elissa Farman who built the Sunchaser to sail west of Westeros. "You may like Dorne, sister. Women are treated as the equal of men. Girls can be warriors and can inherit titles as well." Jon said.
"I should not have to go South for that. That should be true everywhere, not just Dorne." Arya said. "We could travel around Westeros and be hedge knights - like Dunk and Egg."
Jon smiled. "That sounds nice until you run out of coin and have nowhere to sleep but a hedge and nothing to eat but a slab of hard salt beef. And I am not the size of Ser Duncan."
"Will you take me to see the Citadel, Jon?" Arya asked.
"I do not know if I will be welcomed back. Many acolytes belong to the families of the Reach. If we battle the Tyrells, then I will fight and kill their brothers and cousins. Even if we do not, I will be in danger at the Citadel. I have no doubt the Lannisters will try to kill me there." Jon said.
"What?" Arya and Nymeria reacted with shock.
"The Lannisters have the coin to hire assassins. At the Citadel, I will have no army to protect me. And if I die, Robb will never find the killers. Oldtown is very far away." Jon said.
"I won't let you die. I will kill Lord Tywin." Arya said.
"You won't be my squire forever." Jon said. "And it won't just be Lord Tywin. There are many Lannisters, and his grandchildren on the Iron Throne. Even if Joffrey dies, it won't end."
"What will you do, Jon?" Arya said.
"Survive, Arya. I will beat them all. Day at a time, I suppose."
Tyrion Lannister stood at the River Gate, looking over the southeast wall and the wharves of Blackwater Rush. Ser Jacelyn Bywater commanded a full battalion of mounted gold cloaks, and Bronn's thugs attended, as well as unwashed savages from the Vale. Even the fetid odors of the Docks could not mask the stench of the Burned Men and the Stone Crows. Tyrion would have moved upwind, but then he could not see the approaching banners.
"Pod. Describe the arms you see and tell me which houses they represent."
Podrick Payne lowered the great banner that he struggled to carry - a black crowned stag and a gold lion on a gold and crimson field. The two mighty beasts faced off, hooves and paws ready to strike each other. "A golden rose on a green field. House Tyrell. A yellow tree on a silver field. House Rowan. A white tower crowned in flames on smoke grey. House Hightower. A red archer shooting an arrow on a green field. House Tarly. A red apple.."
"Oh, for fuck's sake. Who cares what the damn banners say?" Bronn said. "How many swords did the Reach bring to King's Landing?"
Tyrion sniffed. "Someday, knowledge of heraldry may save Podrick's life." Bronn shook his head and rolled his eyes. Tyrion looked over the vast host, a thousand lances, five times as many spears, with Tarly archers, and a dozen other houses with spears and pikes, maces and hammers. The ring of iron and steel stretched as far as the eye can see. "Nearly 10,000 men. And the bulk of their fighting force marches north of Tumbleton to the riverlands." The Tyrells had sent an enormous show of force to King's Landing. Did they mean to encamp so many men at the capital? Suddenly, Tyrion realized exactly why his Lord Father needed more men. Gold cloaks, the mountain clans and sellswords did not match this one quarter of the Reach army.
Tyrion gritted his teeth and rode forward on his palfrey, with Bronn and Pod following. He put on an amiable smile to hide his mounting concern. He rode to the elegant wheelhouse, decorated with golden flowers. A tall bearded knight with the curly brown hair and large brown eyes of the Tyrells opened the door. A slender pretty girl stepped out, clad in green and gold. She helped an wizened woman with sharp and shrewish eyes stand. Behind the wheelhouse, half a dozen great lords rode, escorted by a guard of many knights. "Well met, my lords. His Grace, King Joffrey, bids you welcome and hopes you find ." Tyrion began.
"Where is the King? And where is your sister, the Queen? Why did they not come to meet us?" Lady Olenna said sharply.
"You must forgive my grandmother. We have come a long way in a short time, and rest and refreshment are much needed. We had hoped the king would welcome us to the city, and the queen would guide us to the Red Keep." the girl said sweetly.
"As Hand of the King, I speak for his grace. Ser Jacelyn Bywater, Lord Commander of the City Watch, will direct the gold cloaks to see to your men's lodging. Rooms have been prepared in the Red Keep for your party." Tyrion said.
"I am to be the King's Hand." A large man in green and gold armor on a struggling white charger said. Mace Tyrell was a bit over forty name says but his fat and grey beard made him seem as old as Lord Tywin.
"I would be happy for you attend Small Council meetings now, Lord Tyrell. Once, the troubles in the Riverlands are over, I will give up my office and the Tower of the Hand." Tyrion said.
Mace Tyrell was mollified. His mother was not. "We demand the empty Small Council seats now. Mathis Rowan will be Master of Laws. Jon Fossoway will be Master of Ships until Paxter Redwyne can sail from the Arbor. Where are the other Small Council members? Lord Baelish and Grand Maester Pycelle are not here to greet us."
That was a surprise. Littlefinger had brokered the arrangement, and the Master of Coin should have attended, if only to renew his acquaintance. Pycelle was his sister's man. And Varys was no doubt here, disguised as a dock worker or a begging brother. "I would happily call a Small Council meeting later today. So Lord Tyrell and your other bannermen may learn about the state of the capital." And discuss the end of the famine that you created, Tyrion thought. Then the bells began to ring.
The Old King Jaehaerys the Wise commissioned twenty three cast bronze bells from Essos and placed them in the three level belfry in the Red Keep. They were not as large and imposing as the Three Bells of Norvos but the sound could be heard throughout the city. "Are we under attack?" Ser Garlan cried.
The bells rang sixteen years before to surrender the city during the Sack but most often, bells tolled to warn citizens of battle and to direct smallfolk and ladies to stay in shelter. Tyrion had men watching the Kingsroad. The Tyrell army was the only one for miles. Stannis was sailing from Storm's End but he did not have enough men. "I do not know." Tyrion admitted.
Lady Olenna looked at him in disbelief. A fierce bald man with a bristling grey beard began to shout orders, and Ser Garlan took charge of the lances. Lord Fossoway, Hightower, Ashford, and Rowan galloped back to their men. War horns sounded and the Tyrell army unfolded like an iron rose with steel thorns. "Shouldn't we find out why the bells are being rung?" Bronn asked.
"The bells are near the great hall. I will lead the way." Tyrion said, trying to take charge.
"Lord Hand, the Blackwater. The river is on fire." Bywater yelled. On the opposite side of King's Landing, green flames could be seen. Tyrion groaned when he saw the color.
The room next to the Iron Throne faced east on Blackwater Bay, overlooking thick stone parapets on the ramparts of the curtain walls of the Red Keep. Men rushed about the nests of catapults, launching small projectiles that exploded in the water below. A dozen ships were lit up in dark, emerald and jade flames, an almost pretty sight if not for the corpses in the water and the smell of burnt flesh. Tyrion found King Joffrey guarded by three whitecloaks with Cersei, Baelish and Pycelle in the room. An old white bearded man in leather robes with the thick metal chain of a pyromancer yelled orders at the soldier below.
"What is going on here?" Tyrion asked. Bronn and Pod were by his side and the Tyrell family followed, with many lords from the Reach.
Baelish smirked and bowed slightly to Lady Margaery. "His grace saw enemy ships on the horizon. I informed him of your visit to the alchemists. He was eager to defend the city and summoned his loyal guildsmen."
"But Varys says that Stannis's fleet was seen a day ago, at Massey's Hook, sailing for Dragonstone. It would take them a week to approach King's Landing." Tyrion peered more closely down at the harbor. One ship with striped sails and a bank of oars might have been large enough to be a war galley or a troop transport. "These aren't ships from Storm's End or Dragonstone. You have burned merchant's cogs and fishing boats."
"His grace cannot make an error. He has defended the city from an attack by the Usurper's sell sails and pirates." Baelish said.
The other Tyrells stood in the corner, their eyes taking in the strange sight of wildfire shimmering on the Blackwater Bay. The Lord of Highgarden pushed forward. "Your grace, we are your loyal and true servants." Mace simpered.
Tyrion's head throbbed. Two sennights ago, Renly Baratheon was alive, and the Tyrells were in open revolt. He interrupted the introductions between his nephew and the Tyrells. "How many jars are down there? The wildfire cannot be exposed to heat or the sun. Hallyne told me the jars must be transported at night in carts filled with sand or sealed with wax. "
"I have ordered ten thousand more jars from the guild. I will roast the wolves alive." Joffrey shouted with glee.
The Reach Lords glanced at each other with concern. "Your grace, wildfire is treacherous. A fickle wind or a hit by a catapult stone, and it may be our troops that burn." Garlan said.
"Hallyne, you must bring the jars back inside. If they go on fire, there is not enough sand in King's Landing to put out the flames." Tyrion said.
The pyromancer began to babble on about experiments, duration, and how the substance flowed when Joffrey angrily interrupted. "You don't get to decide, dwarf. I am the King. I am going to show the Starks and the usurper what it means to cross me." he said.
"We only need to use wildfire if Stannis attacks with a large fleet. We do not need to set the Blackwater aflame to defend against one galley and a dozen fishermen. And by using wildfire today, our enemies will know about it." Tyrion said.
"What does it matter if they know? Let them fear me more." Joffrey said.
At that moment, a soldier outside dropped one of fat clay jars. The pebbled gray pot fell and hit the base of the wooden catapult. The green liquid leaked out, splashing the man and the stones nearby. For a moment, Tyrion thought the danger had passed. Then the second jar that soldier was carrying caught on fire and exploded, the liquid substance spraying high into the sky, and the flames shot high into the sky, a fiery green geyser that could be seen for miles. On the ramparts below, the screaming soldier ran back into the castle, and ignited catapult after catapult with their jars of wildfire. The nests, the crennels, the merlons - all of it glowed green as men tried desperately to escape to corner forts or crevices the flames had not yet reached. Heat made wildfire expand, and more clay jars hissed as the faint pop pop of lids could be heard despite the howls of the dying. The soldiers were all dead, Tyrion thought. Wildfire could burn for hours. Even if the catapult crews were not burnt alive, the heat on the parapet would be unbearable. They would be baked in a stone oven, if the walls did not crack and fall.
"Do something!" Joffrey yelled at the pyromancer.
Hallyne nodded obsequiously and then gathered his disciples. Tyrion saw the shock and disgust on the faces of the Reachmen. Lady Margaery though only looked worried, and Baelish remained impassive. Cersei soothed her sulking son. For now, none of this mattered. No one could do anything but let the wildfire burn. In the corner of the room, he saw Varys, the green flames reflected in the eunuch's cat like eyes.
A few hours later, Tyrion poured a cup of wine for the Spider in the solar of the Tower of the Hand. The flames still burned, and stories of the wildfire incident spread through King's Landing. The actual flames were confined to Blazewater Bay and the ruined curtain wall.
"How did Littlefinger find out about the wildfire?" Tyrion said.
"Ten thousand jars cost a great deal of dragons. An expenditure of that size cannot be hidden from the Master of Coin." Varys said. "My lord, I would be more worried about the message Baelish sent to the Tyrells."
"What message was that? He did not even greet the Tyrells at the gate." Tyrion said.
"Exactly. You were sent to meet the wheelhouse. Lord Baelish was with the king, whispering into his ear. Do you remember the riddle I told you that day at the inn?" Varys said.
"A king, a priest and a rich man. Each bids the swordsman to slay the other two. You said power resides where men believe it resides, a shadow on the wall. And that even a small man could cast a large shadow." Tyrion said.
"Why do men think the Hand of the King is powerful?"
"Because he speaks for the King." Tyrion responded.
"And do you speak for the King?"
"The King is a dunce who set an entire wall of the Red Keep on fire to burn down a few boats." Tyrion said.
"But without him, your shadow diminishes. You were feared because you had the mountain men, your father's order, and the office of the Hand. Now, there are many more gold cloaks and even more Tyrell swords in King's Landing. Your father was beaten in battle, and his army much reduced. And soon, you will not be Hand. Joffrey will reward Baelish for this alliance while Lannister influence weakens." Varys said.
"Anyone who considers my Lord Father weak is a fool. The Lord of Casterly Rock is not to be underestimated." Tyrion said.
"But his power has slipped, and Joffrey is no longer so pliable. You know about Aegon the Unhappy. He was named king when he had eleven name days. He was bullied by his regents. On his sixteenth name day, Aegon dismissed them all. Joffrey has fourteen name days. And as he nears his age of majority, his shadow will grow."
'In two years, my shit of a nephew will be Mace Tyrell's problem. Once the negotiations with the Starks are over, Joffrey will be wedded and bedded. I will be touring the Free Cities - as far away from King's Landing as possible." Tyrion said. He drank the full goblet of wine and ignored the smile on the Spider's face.
Arya Stark glared at the scrum of highborn lords meeting the emissaries from the Iron Throne. Tyrell guards and gold cloaks remained outside in the courtyard, but the four men from King's Landing were followed by a retinue of squires and servants. Her brother Robb looked on as Lady Whent offered the customary plate of bread and salt. In the Hall of a Hundred Hearths, her mother, the Rivermen, and even the Northmen treated Joffrey's minions with far more respect than they deserved. The cruelties of the last year had been forgotten.
"Arya, there's no need to scowl." Jon said. Her other brother had no titles or land, so he stayed with her while high ranking lords and nobles greeted each other.
"They are our enemies, Jon. They are probably here to spy on us." Arya said. Nymeria growled, her gray and white fur bristling.
"Perhaps, but with the Tyrells joining the Lannisters, we need to negotiate with the Iron Throne." Jon pointed out the Reachmen, a tall broad brown haired man and an older balding man with a short grey beard. "That is Ser Garlan Tyrell, the second son. He came to the Tourney at Riverrun. And the man is Randyll Tarly. He is said to be their best battle commander. I do not know much about Tarly but Ser Garlan was friendly with Robb."
"The red headed man is glaring at you." Arya said.
"Ser Addam Marbrand. He has every right to glare. I cut off his nephew's hand, and captured his good sister and brother at Golden Tooth. His father is a good man, and withdrew Ashemark from the war. Silver Hill and Deep Den followed after." Jon said. "Addam and Petyr Baelish represent the Crown. And Garlan and Lord Tyrell speak for the Reach."
"Why isn't Tywin Lannister here?" Arya asked.
Jon thought for a moment. "The last time talks failed, he sent his son Tyrion. He may mean to do the same - to see what we propose and then decide. Of course, there are other possibilities. House Lannister is weaker now, and Tywin may have to give way to the Tyrells. Or, Lord Tywin means to ignore whatever agreement the Iron Throne makes. By not attending, he does not bind House Lannister."
"I served as his cupbearer here, at Harrenhal. Jon, Tywin Lannister doesn't want to just kill you. He will try to destroy the Starks. He cares only about his house." Arya said.
"Did he mistreat you?" Jon said.
Arya bit her lip. "He is not cruel, which makes it even worse. He will use monsters to kill and torture and claim his hands are clean. He did not treat me poorly, but he would have given me to the Mountain if it would win him the war. He won't stop, Jon. If he means to kill you, why would he spare Robb or Sansa? Or even Bran and Rickon. He will kill them too."
Her brother did not anger easily but when he did, it was a terrible quiet rage. Jon stared at Lord Baelish, smirking and smiling as he greeted Lady Catelyn and Lord Edmure. Ghost's red eyes gleamed in the shadows and the dire wolf stepped forward, only to be held back by his master's hand. "You are right, Arya. We have been too complacent. We need to prepare for war."
Petyr Baelish and Garlan Tyrell faced Robb Stark and Jon Snow across the table. There were other lords and ladies in the great room, including her mother and Lady Whent, but Arya was certain that her brothers would handle the negotiations. Her uncle Edmure might be the new Lord of Riverrun but victory in battle, not titles, had brought the Iron Throne to the table. The Blackfish hovered nearby with Tully guards and the Northmen huddled behind Robb.
"I am certain we can come to an agreement. All of us here want peace. But it must be an honorable one. One where the interests of the Iron Throne are respected." Baelish prattled.
"The Iron Throne can go to hell. I want my sister, Sansa." Robb said.
"House Lannister will accept a trade of Sansa Stark for Ser Jaime Lannister." Addam Marbrand said.
"We have no problems with that." Garlan Tyrell chimed in.
Petyr Baelish frowned and looked apologetic. "I am not certain it will be that simple. Your sister has not been seen in King's Landing for some time."
"What has happened to Sansa?" Catelyn said.
"The Hand took her two weeks ago. She has kept under guard by his sellswords and savages, and no one has seen her since. Who knows what plans the dwarf has for her?" Baelish said.
"What are you saying, Lord Baelish? Has Sansa been harmed?" Robb demanded.
"Lord Stark. Lady Sansa was taken to the Tower of the Hand, but only after she was beaten by Joffrey Baratheon. Lord Tyrion took her to make sure she was safe." Garlan said.
"There will be no peace if my sister is not returned unharmed." Robb said.
Addam Marbrand glared at Baelish. "I have known Tyrion for a long time, since he was a boy. He is no monster who would harm young girls. And he cares very much for his brother. If you return Ser Jaime, he will release Sansa Stark."
Robb nodded. "We need to speak as well about the Riverlands. There will be no retribution for the Rivermen. No hostages, no stripping of lands. House Tully will remain as the Lord Paramount of the Trident. The Crown will not assess taxes or call the banners for the Riverlands for the next five years."
"His grace will not agree. House Tully has sworn fealty to House Baratheon. The duties to their liege lord must be honored. A bannerman cannot ignore his vow" Baelish argued.
"The Iron Throne swore to protect the Riverlands. Every field has been burnt, every town sacked, every village pillaged, every castle sieged south of the Blue Fork. The Iron Throne broke their oath to House Tully." Jon said.
"It will take years for the Riverlords to restore their strength. And the smallfolk have suffered enough from floods, looters, fire and war. Taxing the starving will not help." Robb said.
Randyll Tarly interrupted. "We do not need their men. The Tyrell army is more than large enough to protect the Iron Throne. The Reach is stronger than both the North and the Riverlands."
"Words are wind, Lord Tarly. But I doubt the Lannister army wants the swords of the Rivermen at their backs. The North is not the only place that remembers." Robb said.
"House Tyrell has no objection. My sister will be Queen for a long time. Five years passes quick enough. But Lord Stark, what of the North? What of your relation to the Throne?" Garlan said.
Robb exchanged looks with Jon. "Joffrey is a cunt. But so long as Sansa is returned, and the Riverlands are at peace, we will live with that. We are not likely to send gifts to the wedding, and if his grace calls the banners, the North may take a long time to answer."
Garlan Tyrell smiled. "That is more than reasonable. So long as the North is part of the Seven Kingdoms, my sister will be pleased. Once Lord Stannis is brought to heel, the Seven Kingdoms will have no need for large armies."
"What if the Iron Throne wishes you to come to King's Landing? To bend the knee?" Baelish asked.
"I marched south with sixteen thousand men. Next time, I will come with more. If Joffrey wants to open the gates to twenty five thousand Northmen, he can." Robb said.
"We have ten thousand men at King's Landing. And thirty thousand more at Tumbleton, Lord Stark. The Reach does not fear the North." Tarly harrumphed.
Garlan shook his head. "There is no need for this. Highgarden does not want war. As you say, the Riverlands have suffered enough. My sister wishes to be queen over the Seven Kingdoms. We have no quarrel with the Starks."
"And the North has none with the Tyrells." Robb said.
There was relief on the faces of the Riverlords. Her mother congratulated Lord Edmure, and the Northmen made plans to return home. Robb shook Garlan's hand, and Maester Tothmure prepared a raven. Baelish smirked, Tarly grunted, and Marbrand inquired about the Lannister prisoners. Only Arya noticed her brother Jon slipping quietly away.
Jon climbed down to the stern of the rowboat and Ghost leaped into the bow. With Chett and the Winter Town boys as crew, Maturin Manderly captained the river boat from Harrentown to the Isle of Faces. The water was surprisingly warm, and the surface rippled blue and green in the fading light of the sun. The Gods Eye was enormous - one hundred miles in every direction, and it took several hours to cross south to the island.
As he rowed closer, Jon could see the groves of weirwood trees staring out over the waters. Ten thousand years ago, the First Men and the children of the forest had fought a great war lasting centuries. On the Isle of Faces, the greenseers and the leaders of the First Men met to sign a Pact where the chieftains swore to stop cutting down weirwoods and leave the great forests to the Children. In return, the First Men would settle the open lands - coastland, high plains, bright meadows, moors, swamps, and mountains. Over time, the pact was broken but the Northmen claimed that was the fault of the Andal invaders, and the First Men and the Children had been friends for four thousand years. Jon doubted the tale. All men were greedy and the children greatly diminished by war. The stories were from too long ago, and so much was forgotten and much more had never been known. He regretted the loss.
All the trees on the Isle were carved with stern and sad faces - red eyes like the five pointed leaves of the weirwood trees. Jon knew the blood red came from the sap but here on this remote island, the trees seemed so alive and present. The wind sighed and the leaves rustled, and he could feel eyes watching him, a thousand red eyes on bone white faces. Shapes flitted about in the shadows, graceful and quick.
When Jon was a boy, Ned Stark had spent many nights speaking of the Age of Heroes and the children of the forest. They were here, Jon thought - the children, in the Isle of Faces, singing their songs of the Earth, living in villages hidden among the trees. Had they all died? Addam Velayron, dragon rider and bastard, had visited the Isle of Faces before falling bravely at the Second Battle of Tumbleton, fighting Tessarion and Vermithor. Had the children sang to him of his fate? This was a sacred place, and Jon bowed to the dragons that had come here before him. Ghost sniffed the air and headed deeper into the Isle. Jon followed.
He had walked for hours when Ghost stopped at a grove. Thirteen giant weirwoods stood, tall and dark, their faces turned inward. He saw the silhouette under the moonlit shadows of the trees - tall and lean, with long flowing hair so silver it was nearly white, in plate armor with a gold cloak. The man turned, and Jon noticed the tabard first - a bright red three headed dragon on a field of red and black. Dark Sister hung at his side but it was the face that revealed his identity - a face handsome as any prince but fiercer and more deadly than any man Jon had ever met. White hair, cruel eyes, a restless smile - prone to both mirth and rage - Daemon Targaryen.
"How are you here?" Jon asked in surprise.
"I died a hundred fifty years ago. Do you think this is real? Time does not flow in a straight line for weirwood trees or at the Isle of Faces. You know my tale. I died here, above the God's Eye." Daemon said.
"But why are you here, your grace?" Jon said.
He laughed. "You of all people do not have to give me a title. You are named after me. Your true name is Daemon Targaryen, son of Rhaegar. Ten generations separate us, but you are more like me than any of my children's children."
Daemon Targaryen was the hero and villain of the bloodiest war in the history of Westeros, the Dance of the Dragons. There were four conflicting accounts of the civil war between the Targaryens written by two maesters, a septon, and a lecherous dwarf but they all agreed on how the Dance began. Daemon was the uncle and husband of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen. Her half brother, Aegon the Second, with a conniving Small Council, conspired to cheat the rightful heir out of her crown. Aegon the Grasping had the wealth of Oldtown, Lannisport and King's Landing, the support of House Hightower, the Lannisters, and the Baratheons, the sword Blackfyre, and he sat on the Iron Throne. Rhaenyra had Dragonstone and Daemon. Prince Daemon died at the God's Eye, killing Aemond and Vhagar, but his death and his actions in the Dance hurt Aegon and the greens immensely. Like the sigil of the three headed dragon, Daemon served fire and blood to his foes. And after the Dance, his son, Aegon the Third, sat on the Iron Throne. It was an unhappy reign.
Daemon was a skilled warrior, a crafty general, and an expert dragonrider. He was also a kinslayer, ambitious, reckless, amoral - easy to anger, and eager for revenge. When his stepson was murdered at Shipbreaker Bay by Aemond, Daemon had orchestrated the murder of Aegon's oldest son. "An eye for an eye, a son for a son." Prince Jaehaerys was only six years old when Daemon's sellswords butchered him in front of his mother Helaena. Even Maegor the Cruel had never slain kin that young.
"How are we alike? I have not committed your crimes." Jon said.
The rogue prince scoffed. "Names have power. You wanted to be a Stark, but your uncle hid you as a Snow. But that was a lie too. You are Daemon Targaryen and you are my true heir. "
"But how? How did I get your name?" Jon said.
"Your father, Rhaegar, was many things, good and bad - but not an original thinker. He wanted the same names as the Conquest - Aegon, Rhaenys and Visenya. You were the third head of the dragon."
"I was supposed to be a girl?" Jon asked in shock.
Prince Daemon chuckled. "Thankfully not. Your mother, Lyanna Stark, the She-Wolf, was more than a match for your father. She named you after me. And so it goes. You will be the terror of your age - like the Daemons before you."
"Before me? But you said I was your heir." Jon said.
"You are the third Daemon. You have met the second - Daemon Waters, the Black Dragon. He was a dragon, just like you."
"Daemon Blackfyre nearly destroyed the kingdom." Jon said, thinking of the twelve year old boy he met in his dream.
"He never should have been a Waters. His father and mother were both dragons. Aegon the Unworthy was a fool. Daemon Blackfyre should have always been a Targaryen."
The first Daemon had bathed the Seven Kingdoms in blood to defend his niece wife's claim. The second Daemon rose up in rebellion and nearly won at Redgrass Field. And now he was the third. The third head of a dragon - carrying Daemon's name and Rhaegar's hopes. Jon would have laughed, if the whole thing had not felt like a curse.
"Your grandfather was a king. Your father should have been king. Your brother was a king. And your sons will be kings. But you will not be a king. That was my fate. That will be yours as well." Daemon said.
"Robb is not a king." Jon objected.
"Only because you pointed out that being King of the North and the River would be an error. The Starks need allies. I fought against Oldtown, the Stormlands and the Westermen. You have many battles ahead, and you will be outnumbered." Daemon said.
"I am not like you, Prince Daemon. I won't slay my kin, or order children killed."
"And what do you think Aegon the Second would have done to my wife and children? He fed his half sister to his dragon. He and Aemond conspired to kill his aunt Rhaenys, who would have been a better ruler than all of us. What will you do when your enemies hunt your family down? When the Lannisters and their allies take your pack and skin the wolves alive?" Daemon said.
"That won't happen. I won't let it." Jon said.
"You will do what I did, Daemon, third of my name. You will serve them fire and blood. Aemond the Kinslayer killed thousands when he burned the Riverlands. For thirteen days, I waited for him at Harrenhal, with only Caraxes at my side. The Dance ended a year later, but Vhagar's death doomed Aegon the Usurper."
"The heart tree at Harrenhal. You carved those marks on the weirwood when you waited for Aemond and Vhagar." Jon said.
"I did. There is magic in weirwood trees and in blood. I knew I would die to defeat Vhagar. Aemond was a cruel hateful boy. There are many of those in this world. The dragon was the true threat. Killing a fully grown dragon is not easy. Vhagar was twice as large as Caraxes."
"Was there no other way?" Jon asked. Daemon shook his head, a bitter smile on his proud face. "Blood will have blood. That was true when Valyria was young. You are a dragon. Do not forget that. Do not bow to lesser men."
Jon dreamt under the cover of the weirwood trees in the Isle of Faces. He walked past the ironwood door into the chilly and dark crypt. This was the Hall of the Dead, where eight thousand years of Starks were buried, stone kings on stone thrones. He heard drums, faint horns, and the sound of feasting behind the cavernous walls. He came upon the dire wolf, grey and ghastly, fur spotted with blood, golden eyes shining sadly in the dark. The wolf howled mournfully in the dream. Then the darkness became total, and he saw a blind girl, sleeping in a rag stuffed mattress on a shelf of cold stone. There was a pool ten feet across and the room was full of statues, a weeping woman, a lion headed man on a throne, a pale child with a sword, a hooded man with a staff. All the statues were carved out of black ebony or white weirwood. The blind girl's face was still as water as she ate sardines fried in fragrant pepper oil, a five foot wooden stick and beggar bowl at her side. Then he saw a tall graceful girl with lovely blue eyes and thick auburn hair. The maiden was at a feast with purple serpents in her hair, venom dripping into the dark wine. The girl was whisked away to a castle built of snow held captive by a small man who pretended to be a giant. A wolf child cried for home, and wondered why his meat was raw and not applecakes or honey. An older boy stood in front of a skeletal old man with one red eye in rotted black rags trapped by tangled weirwood roots on a twisted throne. Brynden Rivers smirked, and Jon knew Bloodraven had seen him.
Jon gasped for air. He knew the faces of course - an older Arya, a graceful Sansa, and a tearful Rickon. He saw only the back of the last boy. The wolf was Grey Wind and Jon vowed that he would rain bloody vengeance on anyone who harm Robb's dire wolf.
"Your sight is strong, young one." The speaker, only a few feet tall, had nut brown skin dappled like a deer. The eyes - huge, liquid gold and green and slitted like a cat - matched the large ears, studded with green stones. The voice was high and sweet but also sad.
"You are a child of the forest." Jon was not certain if it was a dream or reality.
The speaker nodded. "Most greenseers need weirwood paste to experience visions. But on the Isle of Faces, it is easier to see."
"Do you have a name?" Jon asked.
"Leaf. I am the only one left who speaks the Common Tongue of Westeros."
"Are these visions real? Will they come true?" Jon asked.
"Who can say? The greenseers saw visions of things that had not happened but came to pass. Or perhaps your dreams are a warning. You saw your cousins scattered and broken. Mayhap, you can stop that, or your dreams will come true in this world and others." Leaf said.
"That is not very helpful." Jon said.
"Our greenseers saw that the children of the forest would fade away and dwindle over time. Like the giants, shadowcats, and mammoths. Even the time of the dire wolves will pass. One day, dragons will be only a fantasy for children. They saw this eight thousand years ago, in the Long Night, and our doom has finally come." Leaf said.
"I am sorry. I am sorry that the First Men and the Andals violated the Pact, and for the loss of your people." Jon said.
Leaf spoke in a weary tone. "What will be, will be. There is no room for us in this world of men, Daemon, son of Rhaegar. But I have a gift for you. The three eyed crow sent me from a cave near the Land of Always Winter. What do you know about my people?"
No one knew much about the children of the forest. They had no books, no parchment, or written language. Ancient scrolls, that predated the Citadel, said the children could create music so beautiful that it would bring tears to whoever heard it. "I know little. The children of the forest lived in Westeros long before the First Men. I know you hunted with weirwood bows and obsidian arrows and knives. You carved faces on weirwoods to keep watch over the land. And the children could use powerful magic." Jon said.
"Not all the children, but our wise men were strong in magic. The greenseers could send beasts against their enemies and turns trees to warriors. But dragons have magic too. Before the Doom, the dragonlords were great in sorcery, in fire and air. But there is another magic, different from that of ancient Valyria - water magic." Leaf said.
Jon knew about the hammer of the waters, a story that dated back twelve thousand years. The first time, the hammer shattered the Arm of Dorne, creating the Stepstones. The second time, the children tried to break Westeros into two, and created the Neck to separate the North from the other Kingdoms. The Maesters claimed that the hammer was not dark magic, but rather the melting of once frozen lands. Both attempts failed to halt the spread of men, and the children dwindled away. Jon wondered if the Rhoynar and the children shared the same magic.
"Water magic has not been used for one thousand years, not since the Valyrians drove the Rhoynar into exile from Essos. And I may be a Targaryen, but even the greatest Targaryens are not the equal of the ancient dragonlords." Jon said.
"You have the spark, Jon Snow, but the fire has not yet been lit. You are at the center of the Gods Eye, and this is the Isle of Faces. This is the last bastion of magic in Westeros for both good and evil. Remember. Use the water against your enemies." Leaf said before she disappeared into the red leaves above.
Jon groaned. He traveled to the Isle with the hope of finding some trace of his parents or a memento of his mother. From Bloodraven's hints, he guessed Rhaegar and Lyanna had visited the Isle of Faces. Instead, he was confused by dreams and prophecies. Daemon Targaryen was a riddle wrapped up in a mystery. If Jon did not find the key, House Stark would bleed. He fell into a deep slumber and dreamt of a dark haired maiden crowned with blue winter roses. She looked like Arya Stark.
Arya Stark stabbed her knife at the beets floating in the wooden bowl. The meal was poor - a thin gruel of cabbage, beets and parsnips, boiled fish, and a mound of mashed turnips. The river fish had been boiled in wine and vinegar to form a transparent jelly, a wiggling blob of pale white flesh. Arya thought that the dish looked disgusting. She was not alone.
Lady Shella Whent asked to host a grander feast for the envoys from the Iron Throne but Robb had denied the request. Her brother wanted the messengers to return to King's Landing but the rivermen were anxious to speak with the Reach Lords. Even little Lyman Darry, so virulently opposed to the Lannisters, hung on every word from Ser Garlan. Arya snorted in disgust.
"You cannot blame them, child." a calm Lady Ravella Smallwood said. In the absence of Jon, Arya was forced to sit with the ladies, and not her brothers. "The Tyrells will wield great influence in the capital. They have won the Game of Thrones."
"But they didn't do anything. They didn't fight. They didn't bleed." Arya hissed.
"And they are smarter for it. Isn't that better than seeing your lands burned? And your smallfolk dying of hunger?" Ravella said.
"I am sorry, my lady." Arya said. Acorn Hall had been attacked by foragers a few moons ago. Lady Ravella barred the gates of the small castle, only opening when a raven from Wayfarer's Rest brought news that Riverrun had been freed.
"You didn't start the war, child. I am grateful to Lord Stark for ending the fighting. When the madness began, I sent my daughter Carellen to my great aunt in Oldtown. I will be happy to have her return safe." Lady Smallwood said.
Arya was not certain if the war was over. Ser Garlan may have been amiable but Randyll Tarly was not a man who cared for peace. The Lord of Horn Hill stared at his fish and glared at the other lords. Tarly's thin lips curled up in a thin sneer as the Smalljon recounted loudly his bold deeds at the Red Fork.
"You are to be congratulated for your great victories, Lord Stark. No doubt the minstrels will sing of the Wolves battling on the Trident." Lord Baelish smirked.
"Minstrels? You think I am fighting this war so they will sing songs about me?" Robb said.
"Certainly not, but the tales of your feats in battle have spread far and wide." Baelish said.
Robb looked hard at Littlefinger. "I came south to rescue my father and my sisters. My father was killed as a traitor. The North will not forget that."
"There is no shame to bending the knee, Lord Stark. Balon Greyjoy bent the knee after his failed rebellion. Torrhen Stark bent the knee rather than face three dragons." Baelish said.
"The Iron Throne has no dragons." Robb said.
"They have the Reach. We have fifty thousand swords, spears, maces. We have more men than the Lannister and Stark armies combined." Randyll Tarly said.
"Pray forgive me, my Lords. I wish for some fresh air." Robb walked from the great hall. He motioned for his battle guard to remain. Ser Garlan stood up and followed. After the departure of the Tyrell knight, Arya slipped quietly away.
Arya found her brother at the Tower of Dread, looking over the great lake to the South. She hid in the shadows with Grey Wind as Ser Garlan spoke to her brother.
"I am sorry for that. Lord Tarly is not known for his diplomacy. Lord Baelish is, but I confess, I find the man rather sly." Garlan said.
"I do not trust Baelish at all. Neither does my brother Jon. We will be happier when Sansa is safe in our hands, and away from the rats in King's Landing." Robb said.
"Yes, about that." Ser Garlan cleared his throat. "When House Tyrell bargained with the Iron Throne, my grandmother insisted on the Lady Sansa to be delivered into our hands. She would not agree to Margaery's betrothal without that."
"And why is that, Ser? Lady Olenna has never met my sister." Robb said.
"We hoped for an alliance between House Stark and the Reach. My older brother, Willas, is unmarried and the Heir of Highgarden." Garlan said.
"I will not have Sansa freed only for her to be trapped in courtly games. If she becomes Sansa Tyrell, Joffrey would be her goodbrother. She will not be tormented any longer." Robb said.
"My brother has a good head and heart. And Highgarden is 700 miles away from King's Landing. With my father as Hand, a Tyrell has to remain in the Reach. And even with our armies on the march, we have five thousand swords and many knights still at Highgarden. Your sister will not be mistreated." Garlan said.
"And what do the Lannisters say about this?" Robb said.
"They do not know. We would announce it only after Margaery and Joffrey are wedded. Your sister would be long gone from King's Landing by then." Garlan said.
"House Stark will consider the proposal, Ser. But only if my sister Sansa agrees. I will not force her into a match. And Sansa will come with us to Winterfell first to see the bones of my father placed in the crypt with his ancestors." Robb said.
"My brother would like to send messages by raven. Is that acceptable, Lord Stark?" Garlan said.
"Robb. If we are to be good brothers, you can call me Robb. And yes. The happiness of my sister is important to me, Ser. When she is exchanged for Ser Jaime Lannister, I will tell her of the proposal from Willas." Her brother said.
Arya rubbed Grey Wind and left before Robb saw her. She was making her way back to the hall when she heard two voices, one familiar and the other not. She ducked back into a nook as they came closer.
"I am sorry to say, Cat, that I do not trust the Imp at all." Littlefinger's oily voice whispered.
"Surely, he will do no harm to Sansa. The Marbrand knight said that Tyrion values his brother's life and he attempted to rescue Ser Jaime from Riverrun." Her Lady mother said.
"Ser Addam is a valiant knight and true, but none, I think, have ever accused him of cunning. The Westerlands men are easily led about their noses. Lord Tywin values Jaime's life. He has been trying to get his oldest son released from the Kingsguard for years. If Jaime dies, Tyrion would be the undisputed Heir. I would not rely on the dwarf's mercy." Baelish said.
"Does he truly wish his brother's death?" Catelyn said.
"Dwarves are treacherous creatures - cruel and lustful, and no better than bastards. I have heard disturbing stories about the Imp. Tyrion Lannister was married before. He grew bored of his wife, and he made a gift of her to his father's guards. A hundred of them in one afternoon, while he watched. He may do the same with Sansa, after he is done using her." Baelish said.
Lady Catelyn blanched. "But surely Lord Tywin would not permit that."
"Lord Tywin knew. This was at Casterly Rock. He was disgusted with Tyrion for his lustful ways. No doubt that is why he desires Ser Jaime's return. Ser Jaime is the key to Sansa's return. If he is harmed in any way, I doubt anyone can save Sansa from the Imp's lechery. The Iron Throne will trade Sansa for Jaime, but the Imp may not allow it." Petyr said.
"And what can be done to ensure the exchange?" Catelyn said.
Nymeria bristled at her side. Arya put her arms around the angry dire wolf. She heard nothing more as Baelish and her mother retreated further into the hall.
Jon woke to the light of stars on the God's Eye. A comet burned red in the night sky, the color of blood and flame and sunsets. The long tail outshone the silvery moon. Smallfolk believed a comet was an omen of droughts and war, but for the Riverlands, that had already come. At the Citadel, the current archmaester of astronomy claimed the comet was a star falling through the clouds to the earth. The man was a fool, Jon thought, who pontificated without reason. Ancient records proved that comets were seen in the same position regardless of where the observer was in Essos or Westeros. Thus, the comet must be far away - certainly beyond clouds and storms and possibly past the moon.
"The comet heralds the return of the dragons. Blood and fire." Daemon Targaryen said.
Jon snorted. "I am sure in King's Landing, the grand maester claims it is Joffrey's comet, to announce the start of his glorious reign. The Faith will declare it a messenger of the Seven, bringing judgement from the Father. And the priests in Essos will say the comet means the return of their gods too, whether that is the Lord of Light or the Black Goat of Qohor."
"You are not a religious man. But you must know that comets do not burn so bright or so blood red. It is the color of our house, Daemon, the three headed dragon." the prince said.
Jon knew that. Even beyond Bloodraven, he had dreams of the dragonlords and a ruined city with topless towers buried in ash. He was the blood of ancient Valyria, a product of the Doom. He was the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna Stark. "Do not call me Daemon. It would be far too confusing if I called you Daemon and you said the same to me."
Daemon Targaryen chuckled. "Very well. What do your dreams tell you?
"That my mother gave me the name Daemon before she died. That my destiny does not lie North. Another dragon is alive - Rhaegar's sister Daenerys. They say her brother Viserys was killed but that she rules a khalasar of Dothraki." Jon said.
"Horse lords." Daemon spat. "They may be clever with horses but they are fools about everything else. They cannot make anything, or rule, or even live in cities. Daenerys Stormborn does not know how to rule. She needs your aid."
Jon rolled his eyes. Daemon Targaryen had failed as King of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea. After five pitiful years, he simply moved to Driftmark, abandoning the isles to pirates and rogues. "I will leave in the morning. I have to return to Harrenhal, and help my brother Robb make certain the Iron Throne will keep their promises."
"They will not. You were not made for peace. You are meant to fight, to kill, to lead men in war. To struggle against great odds. You are a conqueror, like Daeron the Young Dragon."
"Daeron Targaryen died young as did his Conquest. He was sixteen when he wrote his book. He died two years later, and lost the crown of Aegon the First in Dorne." Jon said. He did not mention that Daeron was slain by treachery under a peace banner.
"You will die too. Are you afraid of death?" Daemon asked.
"Death will come when it comes. You did not fear Aemond and Vhagar. Why should I be afraid of false stags and lions?" Jon said.
"Then I will tell you a secret. The Gods Eye is more than a lake and the home of the Isle of Faces. This place has power for our House. Three times, dragons have fought near the Gods Eye. The first time, Aegon burnt down Harrenhal with Balerion. The second time, Aegon the Uncrowned, son of Aenys, was slain by Maegor the Cruel. The third time, I drove Dark Sister through Aemond Kinslayer's left eye. The magic here will defeat your enemies." Daemon said.
"Targaryens have won and lost here. Three dragons died over this lake. You died as did Caraxes. How good could this magic be?" Jon said.
"You will die here, Daemon Targaryen. But you will not lose at the Gods Eye. Victory will be yours even if you fall. When I killed Vhagar, Aegon the Usurper was doomed. Yours is the song of ice and fire and you will win the Great War." he said.
"Why must you speak in riddles? Why can't prophecies be easy to understand?" Jon asked.
"Then it would not be prophecy. Remember - the Gods Eye. You will die here, but you will win." And Daemon Targaryen, the wonder and terror of his time, hero and monster, faded away, leaving a bemused Jon Snow behind.
Author's Notes
The weirwood tree at Harrenhal is mentioned briefly in Arya's chapters and also in Fire and Blood - the history of the Targaryens. The history is good, but certainly not as interesting or vivid as the Game of Thrones, and worst it delayed The Winds of Winter.
Rain is a theme in Duncan and Egg. Bloodraven is blamed for a terrible drought in the second book - The Sworn Sword. It causes a conflict between Ser Osgrey and Lady Webber, that embroils Ser Duncan and Egg. At the end of The Sworn Sword, the rains return.
The King of the Trident is also known as the King of the Rivers. House Hoare, rulers of the Iron Islands, conquered the Riverlands but held it only for three generations, ending in Harren the Black. House Mudd ruled the Trident but their last great king, Tristifer IV, won 99 battles but lost the 100th against the Andal invaders. House Justman and House Teague also reigned but eventually the riverlands became a warzone between the Storm King and the Ironborn.
The words about Robert Baratheon are borrowed from Jon Snow's thoughts when he met the King at Winterfell. It is interesting that everyone in House Stark was good at judging people, except for Sansa. For the first couple books, her judgment is horrendous but somehow, she transforms from clueless to the great manipulator.
Beric Dondarrion's betrothed is Lady Allyria Dayne, the younger sister of Ser Arthur and Lady Ashara. She is Edric Dayne's aunt. In the book, Beric gives that speech at the Hollow Hill.
One day at a time is a quote from The Wire. Omar Little is asked how he survives eight years of robbing drug dealers. He says "Day at a time, I suppose." It is also a lense on how Jon thinks. Readers have asked what his big plans are. He is focused on the immediate steps to ensure House Stark wins.
The scene with Tyrion greeting the Tyrells mirrors when Oberyn Martell arrives at King's Landing after the Battle of Blackwater. GRRM spends an entire chapter on this, describing eight great Dornish houses (none of which are ever mentioned again) and lots of expensive clothes and nice horses. I thought Bronn would naturally say hurry it up. At that stage in the books and show, Tyrion has gotten demoted to Master of Coin. Here, he is still Hand of the King, but given they had to trade that to the Tyrells, he has already lost influence. And more importantly, so has Tywin. People might say Tywin should be feared still - but losing battles has consequences. In the show, Tywin sends Joffrey to bed after the Red Wedding. Tywin holds all the cards then - Stannis is beaten at Blackwater, Robb Stark is dead. The situation here is different.
Tywin Lannister's hands are clean - he just uses other people to commit his crimes. It is interesting the contrast between him and Roose Bolton.
"Blood will have blood" is a quote by Macbeth. It is commonly used to mean that a violent action will cause another. The actual use in the play is a bit different. Macbeth admits that he has used murder to gain power. He realizes that others may murder him to do the same. The blood of the murder victim will seek out the blood of the murderer, so one bloody crime will be avenged with another. Which if you think about it - when Daemon orders the murder of a six year old son, it shocks the royal family in King's Landing but it really shouldn't.
The ghastly grey wolf is from a dream Jon Snow has, right before Mance Rayder's army attacks the wall. It is one of the most absurd battle scenes - the notion that a hundred poorly train recruits can turn back an army of 100,000. And then you realize the wall is 700 feet high, and you wonder what idiot thought a wall that size could be stormed. The other shots are Arya as a blind girl in the House of White and Black (weirwood and ebony), Sansa at the Purple Wedding and the Eyrie, Rickon fleeing from Winterfell, and Bran meeting the Three Eyed Raven.
Personally, I think the cave paintings at Dragonstone are a moronic plot device, and cheating as plot exposition. It is a terrible date and an absurd deus ex machina, so Jon can babble about how everyone needs to join hands. He conveniently forgets that Cersei and Euron are not going to sing kumbaya. But then again, I don't see why Bran is the only one in the TV show who is supposed to have magical inklings of the future when in the books, Daenerys's dreams are very well written - and more prophetic. That's why Leaf appear directly to Jon. You can decide whether it is a vision or if the children can shadow walk to the Isle of Faces.
Daemon Targaryen was a riddle wrapped up in a mystery. The actual quote is from Winston Churchill when he talks about Russia in 1939. He says "I cannot forecast to you the action of Russia. It is a riddle, wrapped up in a mystery, inside an enigma."
In the books, the Tyrells try and fail to get Sansa to Highgarden for a betrothal with Willas. You can interpret that plot as mercenary - Theon is believed to have killed Bran and Rickon - so Sansa is Heir to Winterfell. There is no doubt the Tyrells know that, but Willas would almost certainly stay south in Highgarden. I imagine had the plot worked, the Tyrells would send one of Sansa's children to claim the North.
"Ser Addam is a valiant knight and true, but none, I think, have ever accused him of cunning." In the books, this is how Ser Barristan is described to Daenerys. Addam Marbrand is smart - it is just that Baelish looks down on others, and plays on the distrust of dwarves and bastards. You wonder whether that is just a Catelyn Stark thing or everyone feels the same way.
"Tyrion Lannister was married before. He grew bored of his wife, and he made a gift of her to his father's guards." Baelish tells Catelyn the same thing he tells Sansa Stark at the end of a Storm of Swords, after the Purple Wedding. Baelish is sailing with Sansa to the Fingers. He knows about Tysha and tells the lie. Is this to explain why Sansa doesn't give a crap about Tyrion in the next few books? It may just be to impress us about Baelish's research abilities. It made me wonder if Tysha was an open secret in the Westerlands.
The Red Comet appears first in two places. In Bran's last chapter in Game of Thrones, Maester Luwin sees it when the raven announcing Ned Stark's death arrives at Winterfell. It also appears as the first star of the evening at Drogo's funeral where Daenerys lights herself and the three eggs on fire. She considers it a herald of her coming, and in the Clash of Kings, the comet is called "King Joffrey's comet", the Red Messenger at Riverrun, and the Red Sword by Gendry. Everyone, even Aeron Damphair, lays claim to the comet as representing their own gods.
In regards to historical observation, Tycho Brahe is usually given credit for realizing that comets are astronomical phenomenons. The Greeks, led by Aristotle, believed that comets were a product of the atmosphere, a corruption of the air. Part of that is because they observed the flight paths and believed that comets did not follow an elliptical orbit. Late astronomers realized that comets did follow an orbit but a much longer one than nearby planets.
Daemon Targaryen was a great man and a monster. These words are attributed to Maester Gyldayn who wrote The Rogue Prince. In general, the three novellas, The Rogue Prince, The Princess and the Queen, and The Sons of the Dragon are attributed to GRRM while other parts in The World of Ice and Fire are written by Elio Garcia and Linda Antonsson. I have only read Fire and Blood which does not give a co-writer credit to the two others.
Daemon is a great character, although his actions are often morally questionable. His final fight was killing Aemond at the Gods Eye where he jumped from Caraxes's saddle to kill Aemond with Dark Sister as the two dragons were falling into the lake. Vhagar as one of the Big Three is much stronger than Caraxes. Needless to say, the scene is incredible, and if HBO ever remakes it, let's hope they spend a ton on the CGI. Jon will become more like the rogue prince over time - for good and bad. He will also be the wonder and terror of his age.