Apologies for not being one but two weeks late on this update.
A couple things before this chapter, I adjusted the Tyrion and Ned meeting because I suck at economics and business. It should be more reasonable now I hope. Got kinda sad when a months worth of work felt like it was wasted so that sucked but oh well.
Secondly, the note I wrote at the end of last chapter about Dillion being Rhaegar from the future, that was just a joke! it's obvious who it is and some people got angry about the secrecy when he was first mentioned in chapter 7.
I hope you enjoy this chapter.
Vedros
With hardly any money left, paying for lodging was a difficult task even for the run-down shack that was offered. There wasn't much independent work in the river village except for bartering goods or assisting others. But thanks to Baelgor, he arranged for room and board to be provided at little to no cost at all. He spoke with an elderly crone and got hold of a shack she owned to be used as a place to sleep.
Asher, however, didn't rest in that place though. He dubbed it a run down rat shack. Instead of sleeping outside with the many bugs and other vermin, he went to the only brothel and paid for a room to sleep without the girl. All the whores were weasel-faced and he didn't trust if they were clean of anything he might catch.
Still, despite how they looked, being in their company made him long for Gwyn back in the North. Some nights he would dream of her. Even though it's been five years, he remembered her perfectly. So beautiful, like an angel of the Maiden herself. He would wonder how much she changed. She is a woman grown now. Perhaps she had a husband by now, maybe a child too.
Damn Gwyn's brat brother. If it wasn't for that little shit, they never would have been caught. They way he took such joy of getting them in trouble, he almost had the nerve to strangle the fucker right then and there in front of Ludd and Gwyn. It almost looked like Torrhen and Karl Whitehill wanted him to do it as well.
Today, still grey and gloomy as every other fucking day at this place had been but also plagued with a thick fog that came in the night, Baelgor was meeting with some fisherman to barter passage on his boat through a smuggler's route that did not show on almost any map. It went from south of Mantarys all the way to the southern Selhoru river. It would take them around Volantis and save a fortnight of riding.
While Baelgor was busy, Asher was putting himself and his axe to good use by shaving thick branches of twigs and making them ready to be used for construction. It wasn't much money to be made, but it was better than none at all. The old wench that gave the shack to Morghon and Baelgor was rather embarrassed because Asher didn't find it well enough to sleep in. And given that Asher was probably the best woodworker within a hundred miles of the place, he might as well use his skills for something.
It felt odd that the people here were rather polite given their appearances. There were countermeasures against bugs and other vermin that brought disease, but nothing could stop the remnants of the Doom from occasionally wandering over and bringing a horrendous gift.
Asher cleaned another long branch and set it with the rest. That made fifty-seven so far, enough to get started fixing the flooring so that rats did not have an easy time entering. He glanced over to Morghon who was practicing his sword form. Morghon borrowed Asher's sword and since daybreak he had been practising with two swords. Did he think himself the next Arthur Dayne? Only the boldest of swordsmen were daring enough to truly devote honing skills in dual wielding long bladed weapons. The difficulty of mastering it and performing effectively in battle was a level only a few could achieve and had the raw talent to do so.
He didn't approve of where they had come so far solely because he hardly knew anything of it. He was sick of being kept in the dark about so many things lately. But it was all he could do as a bystander. Besides, ever since Morghon first held that fire dragon in his palms, nothing felt the same as it used to be.
Whenever he would watch Baelgor and Morghon practice magic together, he felt swallowed in the shadows cast by Morhgon's fire, that he didn't belong. He needed a break right now, something to calm him down. He stacked the last branch with the rest and leaned his axe against them.
The old wench was sitting on a small stool with a half-woven reed basket. She had been at it all morning. "Oh, are yeh all finished?" She asked. Her looks were sour and she had over twelve warts on her face, but her voice was quite soft.
"Just for now. Once I get back from my break, I'll fix the floor and the roof. You can pay me after that."
"Alright. Careful if yeh wander in the mists. There's worse than mummer's trickery that lurks in there. The madness of the Doom still lives until every brick and stone of Valyria is torn down."
"Mmhm." He left her to her weaving and went over to Morghon. "Oy," he called, getting Morghon's attention, "Let's go fishing." He was given his sword back and sheathed it. Morghon had given Blackfyre to Baelgor for safekeeping but kept his shortsword at his side.
They both went to the shack with the vendor's stall displaying fresh-caught fish and dried fish. The man who owned it, an old man that didn't hunch over but stood tall, was close to finish cleaning a large pike fish. "Ah, you two outlanders. Come for somethin' to eat?"
"Aye," Asher replied, "But we'd like to catch it ourselves. Got any rods we could borrow?"
"Nah, I got some you can rent though." His face naturally frowned at them. In fact, it reminded Asher of his master at arms from Ironrath, Royland Degore.
"I haven't got many coins on me and I can't spend any. How about I give you silver as compensate for borrowing, but get it back on our return and give half my catch." Asher pulled a silver coin from his purse and set it on the table.
The vendor looked at him squarely and picked up the silver. He wasn't long to get to rods for Asher and Morghon.
'Where do we go?' Morghan signed as they both walked away with rods in hand.
"Well, obviously there won't be anything off the side of here. We'll take a boat to a crannog or something. What was that hunchback's name? The one who took you to the warlock?"
'G-O-R-V-A-N.'
"Never heard a name like that before. You know where to find him?"
Morghon nodded and led the way to the edge of the village. They didn't go to where they first found the hunchback, but instead to a shack in far worse condition than the one Baelgor and Morghon slept in. This was a small box of a home, the roof looked like it was collapsing but it was just poorly built, and a large piece of leather was all that kept outside eyes from looking in.
Morghon walked up to a bucket that was flipped over and knocked three times. It was five seconds after that the small hunchback crawled out of his little broken down shack.
"Oh, little raven 'iars return to see Gorvan." The hunchback said with a voice rigid but calm as water. "'Ave yeh needs of me services, little master?"
"Oy," Asher said, "where's the best place to do some fishing?"
Gorvan turned his head up to Asher. The bones of the hunchback's neck popped when he did. "Ever'one knows where the water bleeds red, fish are there to tread." He climbed to his feet and brandished a small cudgel that he used as a walking stick. "I's takes yeh theres. Good old Gorvan always 'elps 'is frien's with their fun. But no fun for old Gorvan, just the pains in me back and the rats that listen to 'is songs."
Asher pinched the bridge of his nose in almost embarrassment of asking this loony for help. But Gorvan's was the only boat that didn't charge.
"Ole blue lips is 'oping to see yehs, little raven 'air. Dinner for two and a story for one. But no one ever wants to listen to ole Gorvon's stories, not anymore." They came to Gorvan's raft and settled on. The hunchback took his long pushing stick in hand and set off down the river. The man also began singing as he rowed.
"I know's a place where fish do swim, they's splash about the surface near the fishermen.
No care for man's hooks, their baits or fishing sticks, cuz they'ze not the only ones harborin' tricks.
The red waters flow, but more color there is. For beneath the waters is a glimmer yeh can't miss.
Bright like the sun and beauty untold, for nothing shines prettier than the color of gold.
The hunger for meat grows bitter on man's tongue, for it's riches he wants to have a king's fun.
He'll reach down below, to the red shadows beneath, but then he will learn that the gold does have teeth.
Down he goes to dark depths below, to his gold where the water runs red.
Too late for he that reaches for gold, for the rivers run red with his blood once he's dead."
A strange song that had a vague meaning. Was it greed that was the teeth and killed the fisherman or was the gold some kind of monster? Asher shook his head at the thought. It was just the song of a crazy hunchback. Why was he even thinking on it? Was it to avoid thoughts about what he had to tell Morghon?
He sighed out and laid back on the raft, letting the bobbing current of the water and Gorvan's pushes rock him into relaxation like babe in a cradle. He tried to think of something to get his blood pumping. Baelgor doing something stupid again, his father, Gryff Whitehill, that juggler from Braavos. Anything to keep him from getting too calm. He was never at his best when he was completely relaxed.
The fog around started thinning out enough that things around were beginning to become more visible. Stalks of reeds were sticking out from the grey waters. No, not grey anymore, the waters were starting to change color, they were red like the rumors said. Both Asher and Morghon leaned over to the side of the raft to see the color of the water. It wasn't crimson like blood, but more like thick dark orange mudd. Sometimes there was a dead reed underneath waving with the water's current.
Morghon lowered his hands to scoop some of the water, but a quick hand grabbed his with boney fingers.
"Oy…" Gorvan grumbled, "don't go fishin' for gold, raven 'air. Or else it'll be yours blood that runs red with water too." Gorvan stepped away and kept rowing. He pointed out with one of his fingers to a small patch of land covered in yellow and brown grass rising out of the red water like a giant mole on the water. It was rather large "Keep to the grass, and beware the gold." the raft slowly pulled next to the grass and stopped. Asher and Morghon disembarked with some difficulty but found firm footing.
Asher had to let his body fall flat or else he would have slipped into the water. He grabbed scrunches of grass and pulled himself up onto the patch of land until he could finally sit up without worry. "Come back in two hours." he told the hunchback.
"Alright's then. No frien's for Gorvan, no fishin's for Gorvan. Just a ride on 'is raft." Gorvan angrily continued to mutter words as he pushed off the crannog and went back into the mist, disappearing soon.
Asher and Morghon found a decent spot and set up their rods without much difficulty, though Asher completely forgot to bring bait with him. Luckily he had something he was saving for the afternoon, the last of his dried venison. He would definitely catch something as big as the fisherman's pike with bait like that. He rummaged it out of his satchel and tore a piece off for Morghon to use as well. They cast their lines as far as they could, the hooks disappearing in the red of the water.
Asher planted the handle of his fishing rod into the dirt and just sat still for a moment. He felt frightened. Every breath he took made his lungs shiver. The mists all around obstructing the view, the abnormal color of the water and how sometimes it would flow from shades of dark orange to almost crimson. When you truly looked at the water, it wasn't mud that was causing the color, it was just simply red. Was it the blood of the last army that ever tried to march on Valyria after the Doom? Was it the warlock's doing?
Morghon was constantly forming balls of black flames between his time he did it, Asher couldn't help but watch. To see fire that cast shadow was almost haunting to look at. It didn't feel right.
"Is that as big as you can make them?" Asher asked.
Morghon smirked and sat still suddenly. His eyes were so intense with focus. A collection of a dozen sparks popped between Morghon's fingers before igniting into a ball of black flame the size of a large melon. After a second, it began to grow until it was as big as a bull's head. The area around turned dark as if it had suddenly become night. The flames dispersed and Morghon cocked his brow. 'I can go bigger, I know it. But Baelgor said not to do it yet.' Morghon signed.
Asher almost laughed in disbelief. Bigger than a bull's head? How big could it get? The size of a carriage? The size of a dragon?
"Morghon," Asher said calmly, "I think you need to know something now rather than later. I think it'll just be frustrating if I delay this." He looked over to his friend, a boy he shed sweat, tears, and blood together, a boy he would gladly call brother. "Once we get to Braavos, I'm not going with you any further."
Morghon's reaction was expected. Disbelieve, denial, worry. 'What? Why not? We are going home!'
"No, you are. You were taken away from your home against your will. I left because my place there was abolished. If I go back, I'll just be spat out again." He looked back out to the mists, to where their bobbers were in the water.
Morghon slapped him hard on his shoulder. "Shit! What the hells?"
'Would it hurt you to not assume so much? What if you are wrong and maybe your father regrets sending you away?'
"Because it wouldn't matter! If I had stayed, I would have been sent to the fucking Wall and I'd be freezing my arse off for the rest of my life instead of having it burned under the sun! I'm not going back, don't try to convince me otherwise."
'But at least this way you have the chance of going back instead of no possibility at all. People regret things they do when they're angry. Maybe your father does… has for a long time.'
Both of them simply sat back in silence. Morghon too angry with Asher's decision and Asher with nothing left to say.
'Plop!'
Asher jerked his gaze to the bobbers. His was constantly being pulled under the waters. "Looks like a bite, finally!" He grabbed his fishing rod from the dirt and got to his feet. Whatever was on the other end, it was big. Every time he tugged back it felt like he was trying to uproot an ironwood tree with deep roots. He began walking back as he pulled, hoping his movements would give him better advantage in the fight. He still had to be careful not to do things too hard or his line would snap.
A sudden splash at the surface of the water caught both the boys' attention. It wasn't a pike, but a rainbow trout that was nice and fat, maybe as long as from the tip of Asher's middle finger to the corner of his elbow.
"Morghon! Get ready to grab it out of the water!" Asher told him.
Morghon carefully went down to the edge of the crannog. He was still small, but he was strong. He could grab that big a fish and wrestle it up to land without a problem. It was almost there, just a few more feet. Morghon wrapped his hands around the fishing line to steady himself as he waited.
Asher's could see the silver scales so perfectly. Without sunlight, there was no rainbow coloring. But silver wasn't the only rich color he saw. Creeping in close to the crannog were two golden orbs that were just barely hidden by the red waters. In the middle of the orbs were the slits of a black abyss.
The realization swept over Asher so suddenly. "Morghon, watch out!" He dropped the rod and dashed forward, using every bit of strength to get to Morghon before the beast did.
Morghon still had his hands holding the line when the large mouth of an enormous crocodile sprang up from beneath the water and chomped the trout in two. The half that went in its mouth was the half with the head and the hook. The suddenness of it all took Morghon by surprise, he didn't have time to think of letting go when the crocodile slammed back in the water and pulled the line with it and Morghon into the water.
Asher slid down the side of the crannog to the very edge with his arm out. Morghon surfaced and was in a great panic. There was blood coming from a nasty cut next to his left eye. He must have been swiped by the croc's tail when he was pulled in. "Come on! Hurry!" Asher could see the silhouette of the crocodile approaching fast. "Fuck!" He didn't think when his body moved by itself and dove into the water straight for the croc.
The water was so unnaturally warm, it was awful. And the murky red color stung his eyes but he couldn't afford to close them. The first thing he saw past the red of the water was the long snout of the crocodile. He barely swam out of the way when the teeth showed themselves. Moving fast, he managed to grab his arms around the body of the croc. It was so damn big that he could reach his hands all the way around. But the moment he held on, the beast immediately began thrashing and wrestling to throw him off. Seven Hells, this was probably worse than fighting the Mountain.
The crocodile burst up to the surface and began rolling its body. Asher had to take this chance to refill his lungs. But he was a fool thinking he would have longer than a second. He gasped for air when he came above the water but only got a sip instead. He didn't know what the fuck he was supposed to do. If he reached for the knife at his belt, if it was still there and not sinking to the bottom of the river, he would lose his grip and the croc would escape him. He doubted that he would get a second chance to dodge a bite.
They surfaced again, this time Asher had to see where Morghon was. Sure enough, Morghon had swam back to the crannog and was on top of it.
Asher took the chance to kick himself off the croc and swam as fast as he possibly could to the crannog. He kicked his legs and pushed his arms with all his strength. He didn't realize how much a fight with a crocodile could take so much energy even when it's just holding on for dear life.
His hand found the edge of the crannog and he quickly grabbed and pulled himself up. He felt like his body was that of a spider's when he squirmed up to the top of the crannog next to Morghon. Without hesitating, he found his sword belt and drew his sword. When he spun around back to the water, the crocodile was coming back, just feet from coming onto the crannog.
A dark shadow reflected off the steel of Asher's sword and a ball of black flames was in between Morghon's hands.
Morghon stepped forward and pushed his hands outward. His black fire suddenly shot outwards in a great wave that went straight for the crocodile's position in the water.
The hissing sounds of the beast could be heard through the roaring of the flames. Steam began to form on the surface of the water followed by boiling bubbles.
Asher lowered his sword in both amazement and bewilderment. Baelgor could barely do something like this without passing out. Morghon was doing it on a scale three times as great and with such a hate filled look in his eyes. It was like he didn't care about the blood from his cut trickling down like red tears.
"That's enough," Asher barely managed to say above a whisper. He pulled himself together and placed a hand on Morghon's shoulder. "That's enough!" The flames and shadows stopped. Some of the dry grass had caught flame but died quickly. When the black flames had ceased, it was clear to see that the water was boiling hot and the croc was floating at the surface, cooked alive.
Asher knew he should be relieved, but all he felt was fear coursing through his veins.
Baelgor
It was one thing to be upset that those two fools had gone off on their own, but then for them to return covered in blood and with a nine hundred pound crocodile in tow, fucking hells.
"What part of discrepancy do you two fools not get?" Baelgor asked. He carefully wrapped the bandages over Morghon's cut. That boy was damn tough, that was for sure. "You go fishing and end up boiling an entire crocodile alive, and I fucking missed it!" It was certainly a feat he wished he could have witnessed.
Vedros, who was miraculously unscathed after wrestling the beast, went to go sell the kill to some fisherman or anyone who would want the damn thing.
"Next time you go off to do something stupid, make sure I'm there to see it." He chuckled. "Alright, you're good." He finished tying the bandages and patted the boy's shoulder.
'How does it look?' Morghon signed.
"You've never had a girl kiss you yet and now they have a reason not to." He teased. "I'd say give it a few days before you can take the bandages off. It's gonna leave a scar probably till you get enough wrinkles that you can't tell." He brushed a handle in the boy's hair, messing it up frivolously and earning a grin from him.
Vedros returned from his little journey but with no fat purse or carcass.
"Well? Did you sell it or not?"
"I sold it, but I also promised to give half of what we brought back."
Baelgor scoffed and slumped forward with a hand in his face. "You Northerners are shit at negotiating, you know that, right?"
Vedros waved him off and tossed a small pouch of coin to Baelgor. He continued on to finish the work he started this morning.
"Don't take too long. We're leaving before the sun sets today." Baelgor told him. He opened the pouch and found that there was a decent amount of coin in it. But whether or not it would be enough to buy fast passage was the trouble. "Well I have good news and bad news. Bad news is, we're going to have to get to Mantarys to book passage, so that'll add some time to our journey. But the good news is we might just have enough to afford it. Come on, let's get some food for the road."
There wasn't much to choose from. Yams that had bits of sand buried in the flesh, dried fish that might have more flavor if it rotted, bread that definitely had sawdust mixed in the dough. But, the beer here was a home brew that had the best kick for what it was worth and there was a half of a crocodile that was recently cooked. Baelgor made sure the fisherman gave them the best parts. A leg, some of the tail, and the whole head. And with those, they had everything for the road. They're weapons and other supplies, his family's book of magic, food, all of it.
In press of keeping to schedule, Baelgor and Morghon both assisted Vedros in the last of his promised work. Although it felt like they were in the way for the most part. Vedros was a natural born woodworker. The efforts of Baelgor and Morghon were acceptable but barely. Nonetheless, they finished on time, were paid, and departed without a farewell to give. Vedros especially was glad to be gone. As a form of payment, Baelgor had bundled some of the wood that went unused and took it with them at the permission of the wench.
They didn't ride hard until they were out of the wetlands and back over the cliffs that overlooked the edge of the Valyrian Peninsula. The morning mists were beginning to disperse by now.
Once the village was out of sight, they slowed the pace of their horses.
Vedros sighed in relief. "I'm never going back there for as long as I live."
"Ha," Baelgor huffed, "I said that myself once. Yet somehow that place tends to draw you back at least once more."
"Seven hells. Well here's one man it won't attract again."
Baelgor chuckled and shook his head silently. Once they had enough coin to be safe with their spendings, he would be sure to make a bet with Vedros. "Come on, we have to hurry if we want to keep the light of day guiding our path." They still had a few hours, but they would need at least one for the stop they were going to make.
Baelgor whipped the reigns of his horse into a gallop and the boys were riding swiftly behind him. They kept to the main road for about another hour while they were still in the cliffy plateaus, keeping the Shivering Sea to their left.
The road curved down to a trail that went below into a narrow pass but Baelgor strayed from it purposefully.
"Hey, where're you going?" Vedros called out.
"WE," Baelgor corrected, "are staying someplace special tonight." He pressed onward on the plateau, keeping close to the edge and heading in the direction of a sudden rise in the rock formation. It was not like a hill but a city wall that was impossible to climb over unless one knew the way.
When they came to the rocks, they dismounted and Baelgor led Vedros and Morghon to a small grove that hid from the views of unwanted eyes on the main road. To them it seemed like a dead end with nothing to offer but Baelgor knew better.
"It's not bad, I suppose." Vedros remarked as he looked up at how the rocks almost domed overhead like a canyon.
"This is for the horses, you idiot." There wasn't anywhere to tie them, but they would be alright just for the night. "Follow me." Baelgor led both boys to a large crack in the side of the rocks. It reached all the way to the top. It was narrow enough that one could climb inside and pull themselves up to the top. Baelgor did just that with an excited look about him. "Are you coming or not? Bring the food and wood." He would carry the book and the beer.
The boys answered by following him and they slowly began their climb. Daylight was just starting to run out. Had they been without, the climb would be nearly impossible. Any type of light like fire would be too close and blind where to see.
Baelgor reached the top first and helped the others up when they reached as well. The space they were one went on for half a mile and was nothing but dirt and stone save for a ruined structure that barely rose up to two stories high.
"Yes, quite nice." Vedros commented with not much feeling. "What exactly is that?"
"Our shelter for the night. Come, let me show you." From a far off distance which was the only way to spot this place, it looked like another pile of rocks on a plateau. Upon closer look, it was clear to see that it was a man made structure long since abandoned. But inside, it was obvious that it wasn't made by man but Valyrians.
There was a small slot in the crumbled wall that they slipped through into the inside. Baelgor went over to the center of the room to a stone pedestal that held a brass basin. There was still enough oil in there to last them just for tonight. He snapped his fingers a single spark sent burst into fire that illuminated the inside of the room. Unlike other times, the white color of his flames remained in the basin and illuminated the room beautifully.
"This used to be an astronomer's tower. On the floor above us would be lost devices used to gaze at the night sky further than any in the world. A Dragonglass candle would be right about here," he gestured over to a window that was exposed to the Shivering Sea. "It's one of the last places created by my kin that the Doom did not reach."
"But it's destroyed." Vedros reminded.
"A victim of time, not death and mass destruction." He took the bundle of wood from Vedros and prepared enough for another fire. He snapped his fingers and sent a string of white flame that licked the firewood and it instantly caught. The white color was gone and replaced with yellows and oranges as the flames grew devouring the wood.
"Morghon, give me the meat." Baelgor drew Fang and when he was given the cuts of the crocodile he speared each piece on the blade. He took two pieces of wood and balanced his sword on them creating a loose spit.
"Right," Baelgor uncorked the bottle of beer and handed it to Morghon. "Tonight, we celebrate your first kill with your flames. Morghon-" He was about to name him Crocbane, but that could too easily be switched to Cockbane. Crocodilebane just did not roll off the tongue as well. "The Boiler!" Even on occasions like this, Vedros wasn't too stubborn to not participate. Both men raised their fists in the air and cheered as Morghon put the bottle to his lips and drank down as much as he could.
Morghon finished all he could and raised the beer in the air. If he had his voice, he would be cheering right now. Even though Morghon's voice couldn't be heard, Baelgor could hear the cheering of his spirit.
Baelgor took the beer and had a swig of it himself. "I'll tell you, my friend, be glad you have that scar. There's not a scar in the whole fuckin' world with a better story than that one!" Actually, Baelgor could name several other stories, but those they belonged to were long dead. He passed the beer to Vedros and with a snap of his finger, he made the fire burst out in glorious white. "Vedros, sing something."
"What? No. I've heard enough of songs for one long time."
"Well if I do you'll both be dead before I finish the first verse and sign language… well give it a try, Morghon."
The boy huffed his laughter and shook his head. It was obviously foolish, but it would be funny to watch.
"Fine then. No song, just a bunch of men standing around a fire and drinking beer. Quite celebratory indeed." But then he had a sudden thought. "Well if there won't be a song, then how about a story." He sat himself down on the soft dirt covering the stone floor and the boys did the same.
Morghon waved at him for attention. 'Tell us about another Valyrian House.'
Those were always Morghon's favorites. Empyrion, Olyvar, Aeggaron, there was not much left that was remembered about the mightiest Houses of Valyria. "You've heard them half a hundred times already. Tell me something about the North, like the Wall or the Barrowlands."
"I have one," Vedros said. He tossed a stick into the fire. "It's one that most desire to forget, because it's one of anger and so much suffering."
"Ah, a haunting story. Go on then," Baelgor egged.
"Long ago, there were once four brothers and a princess more beautiful than any who lived. Each of the brothers desired her, but only the youngest was truly in love with her. It was the youngest brother she chose and set to marry. Filled with overwhelming envy, the three elder brothers devised to take the princess for their own, but in the most cruel way they could, for they always looked down and despised their youngest brother. On the night of the wedding, they drugged both bride and groom into a deep sleep that they could not wake. The eldest brother had his way with the princess, taking her maidenhead and giving her his seed. The morning after, nothing was remembered by the youngest and the princess, they assumed they had too much wine and a drunken night together. Nine months later, they had a son. On the full moon after the baby was born, the second eldest brother had his turn, drugging both brother and princess. And again, a child was conceived, a daughter. But the third brother was careless and failed to drug the princess. But blinded with lust, he raped her and threatened her children if she ever told the youngest brother. She had no choice but to obey. And thus a third child was conceived, another boy. With no need to keep secrets from the princess, the elder brothers no longer drugged her and had their way with her as much as they wanted until it became too much. She leapt from the highest tower of her castle and died. In short time after, the youngest brother succumbed to grief and died, leaving the children of his brothers alone."
"Gods, that was horrible." Baelgor scoffed. "It's just tragic, not scary."
"I wasn't done," Vedros interjected. "The eldest of the bastard children grew into a young man, and by then he learned the truth of himself and his siblings. Enraged at the horrors inflicted upon his mother and the man he loved as his father, the son threw out any mercy he may have had. For the youngest of his uncles, he used the same drug that his uncles did on his mother. When he awoke from his slumber, the uncle's skin and muscle over belly was gone and his innards were there like a bowl of soup. The son then set his hounds upon his uncle and they feasted on him alive and the screams could be heard from Winterfell to the Lands of Always Winter. For the second brother, he waited a year to get his revenge. They journeyed to the Wall together as a simple trip between uncle and nephew. When they stood at the very top, the son pushed his uncle over the edge, and the howling of death never stopped for it fused with the cold winds that are heard through the Haunted Forest and still scream to this very day. And finally, for the Eldest brother, his father by blood, the son spent years gaining favor with him. It was when finally the Eldest brother declared himself a King that he struck. The elder brother planned on conquering Winterfell and taking a Stark for a wife, until he did, the son was his heir. On the night of a blood moon, the eldest brother awoke, his hands and feet nailed to a cross. The son never explained why he was doing this or that he knew the truth, he simply began skinning his blood father alive. When morning came, the hounds were feasting and the King was gone. For weeks, the people searched for their King but could not find him. The son was crowned, but instead of his family's name, he took the name of the youngest brother, his true father. And thus, the First Red King was crowned and House Bolton was born."
Fucking hells, now that was a story that sent a shiver down Baelgor's spine. "Not bad. No better place to look than history for dread and suffering."
"I know another about the barrowlands, a story of a man buried alive by his best friend."
"How about another night? Speak mockery and pettiness over the dead and they might come back alive to haunt you."
Vedros scoffed. "The only person's to ever do that is right next to you."
"... Well played." The smell of delicious cooked meat began filling the room. "Ah, finally." They gathered around the fire as Baelgor took Fang up and inspected the pieces of meat. They were on the verge of being burned. "Morghon, grace us with the first taste of your kill." He held out pieces to the boy, giving him choice over which piece to eat.
Morghon braves tearing off a finger from the leg, claw and all. He bit near the claw and pulled the meat off the bone in one swipe. He faced grimaced in fear of the taste, but softened as he chewed.
"Good?" Vedros asked.
Morghon nodded and reached for another piece.
"Ah ah, my turn." Baelgor smirked and did the unthinkable. With his fingers, he jammed them into the eye socket of the head and pulled out one of the eyeballs.
"Oh hells," Vedros gagged.
"Pussy." Baelgor snapped the cord of the eye and plopped it in his mouth. He didn't chew though, he only made it appear as if he was. "You brave enough for that?" He asked Morghon.
Moghon had a look of disgust about his face before it turned into daring. He slowly reached forward and struggled to pull the other eye out. He managed to snap it out and hesitated to put it in his mouth.
"Consume!" Baelgor egged.
Morghon did it in one quick motion. He began gagging in place and tossed his head side to side but did not spit out. Vedros was laughing like a little girl and Baelgor had to keep himself from doing that or else he would be choking on the eye in his mouth.
Morghon finally gulped down the eye and breathed smoothly.
"How did it taste?" Baelgor asked, still pretending to chew.
'You know how.' Morghon signed.
"No," Baelgor pulled the eye out of his mouth and dangled it, "I don't."
The look of surprise on Morghon's face brought both men laughing hard. Vedros fell on his back and was nearly gasping for air at times.
Morghon held up his fingers in the sign that mean 'fuck you' to both of them. Then he did the unthinkable and reached over and swiped the eye from Baelgor. He ate that two but with less drama than the first and looked at Baelgor with a proud face.
"Fuck," Baelgor was at a loss for words. "You got a damn stomach of Valyrian Steel, my boy." He laughed. He raised the jug of beer in the form of toast. "The Eater of Crocodiles!" He took a sip and passed it over to Morghon who drank heavily from it.
It was a rugged camp for the night, but to the three of them it was a feast no King was worthy to join them for. While drinking beer and feasting on mighty beast, they dabbled in magic, spoke in jokes, Baelgor even read an excerpt from the Valyrian Steel book about a flamboyant fire dancer.
As the night dragged on, the weariness and longing for rest came soon. The flames in the brass basin were just about to die and the cooking fire had long since turned to ash. Only charred bones and small embers nibbling at charcoal remained.
Baelgor leaned back on his arms, staring out the window to the stars and remembered the days when he was a child with his friends and they would try and count how many there were. Morghon was over by the light of the basin, reading the pages of the Aekylosh tome of Fire.
"Vedros," Baelgor said quietly. "You remember the day you resolved to leave the North?"
"Yes, why?" Vedros asked groggily.
"What was it you desired before then? Before you got caught with that girl?"
There was a pregnant silence, but Vedros answered. "Just her. But it doesn't matter anymore."
"Guess not. So what do you want now?"
"Some peace and quiet would be nice."
Baelgor felt a tap on his shoulder and looked over to Morghon.
'He is leaving us soon.' His sign was barely visible in the last light of the basin fire.
"Leaving? What does that mean?" He asked.
"It means you two are going one way, I'm going another. You're the one who's wanted me gone all this time. Don't know why you're objecting now."
"Heh, Northerners. Thick as castles walls. I lie, obviously. Anyone not you could tell that whenever I've said to get lost and to piss off I don't actually mean it."
"Then why the fuck do you say it?" Vedros asked.
"You're better company and a better fighter when you're riled up."
"Piss off. I can still salvage something for myself in this country so I'm going to."
"Like what? The best sellsword companies know your face and not for the reasons you want them to." One would have thought they would have learned their lesson the first time they stole from sellswords, but those bastards deserved it.
"I'm gonna be a pit fighter, learn how to be ruthless with any weapon given to me."
A pit fighter? That's what he wanted? To just be an entertainer who has glory for a few minutes and to be immediately forgotten before his blood runs cold? "What would you even call yourself? Morning Ironwood?"
Morghon snorted at that one.
"I don't know, maybe I'll keep my name as it is. Vedros."
Baelgor sighed and turned over. "What about you? What did you want before death brought you into his plans?"
Morghon shrugged. 'I do not remember. I think to be a knight or to join my uncle at the Wall.'
"Ah, be renown or a frozen virgin. Great choices. What about now?" Baelgor asked.
Morghon paused with his hands. He took a long minute in utter silence pondering over the question. 'I do not know yet. Too much is happening to find an answer. Ask me later.'
"Well whatever it is, make sure it's something that tells the world 'fuck you.' Don't let your name of Snow belittle your choices, alright?"
'Nobody cares about bastards in Westeros. That is how it is.'
"But you're not a bastard anymore, remember?"
'Does not matter because nobody will care. Buried a Stark but I will always be a Snow.'
Fucking hells, Baelgor silently vowed to slap the shit out of whoever made this boy view himself so lowly. "Have any of your ancestors wielded fire in their hands? How many can say they possess Valyrian Steel? You think your half brother is man enough to eat a fucking crocodile's eyes? Enough of these excuses to keep away from your home."
Morghon objected. 'That is not what I'm trying to do.'
"Then why the fuck haven't you gone back already?" Morghon didn't answer and he didn't need to because they all knew why. Fear of that warning the Red Priest gave him when he first left. Baelgor moved his hand over the chest of his coat until he found a loose thread. He yanked it free and held it out to Morghon. "You are a thread among thousands. But you need to stop looking at your lonesome self and see the grand picture you're a part of." He tossed it aside and settled down on his back.
The last of the basin fire died out and all was swallowed in shadow. "What about you?" Vedros asked Baelgor.
"Hm?"
"What do you want?"
Baelgor sighed. "Some shut eye." His greatest wants and desires died a long time ago until both these boys came into his life. Now all he wants to keep his legacy alive. It was all he had left to want in this life.
