Disclaimer: I don't own A song of Ice and Fire or Dragon Age
The Phoenix and the Griffin
Chapter 21: Unexpected journeys
Pain, the fresh feeling on his back, up his arm, across his face. It always surged through him after a nightmare. He saw the blighted dragon again, saw the hordes of darkspawn and even the sickness itself spreading from person to person. Since saving Eamon, he and his companions had searched the woods for any sign of Dalish clans. Rolling to his side, he felt her back pressed against him. Her pale skin a contrast to his, marked by her times in the wild. Morrigan's hair rested on her shoulders, her body as naked as his was. When he tried to sit up, she curled her arm around to grab his fringe. Their lips met in a kiss she had more enthusiasm for. Her lips melded softly with his, caressing the burns on his chin and neck.
"That wasn't disappointing," she whispered.
"Next time take my advice and get another blanket," Daylen retorted.
He put on his trousers and boots first, turning away from her.
"There are always secrets to find in the Brecilian forest, ancient secrets that the Dalish are always searching for," Morrigan rolled onto her feet, tying up her hair whilst Daylen bandaged his arms and put on his shirt.
"We agreed to seek out the reports on two Dalish clans in this area, the nearby village said one passed here very recently," Daylen said.
"And one has lingered for longer than usual, we'd best keep moving too, the wild animals are scared of something besides hunters Amell," Morrigan warned him as he walked out of her tent.
Alpha ran over, wagging his small tail as Daylen patted him. Wynn was preparing Elfroot poultices, Oghren was still sleeping and Sten was practicing with his regained sword.
"Where are Shale and Zevran?" Daylen asked.
"The painted elf proposed a brilliant idea, one that satisfies both my boredom and it's inconvenient hunger," the golem said, walking around some of the trees with Zevran by her side.
"And what was the suggestion?"
"What else my friend, use Shale to draw in our breakfast," Zevran grinned, holding up some dead ravens he had gotten with his throwing knives.
Alistair worked on the food as always, plucking the feathers and cooking the meat over skewers. Leliana stirred the pot, aiming a glare at Morrigan as she exited her tent.
"Did you find anything when scouting?" Daylen asked, to distract her from her vendetta with Morrigan.
The two women would never be close friends, they were like fire and water. Days he had witnessed their arguments about religion, morality, even sexuality.
"Bare footed tracks, Halla hooves as well, so we're on the right track," Leliana said.
"Although there was a curious thing I found when we were hunting," Zevran mused.
"What was that?" Alistair asked.
"Wolf tracks, though a lot bigger than they should be, I doubt it was a Direwolf," Zevran said.
"A what?"
"A breed of wolf that's native to Northern Westeros, apparently they're big enough to bring down horses," Daylen said.
"That's where your family is aren't they?" Zevran asked.
"Apparently, my brother Revion is lord of the family, my sister Dayla is a knight, so is the youngest Dayk. As for my mother I'm guessing she's frustrating every suitor in King's Landing," Daylen explained, a small smile drifting across his face.
"Well if you got your looks from her, I'd understand why," Zevran winked.
Daylen didn't react to the elf's ignorance, although he suspected Zevran knew of the lack of resemblance Daylen had to his other family members. Then there was the scars and burns, Daylen fixed the armoured mask he had forged to his mouth. Lifting the dragon bone cuirass and gauntlet to his arm, he fixed his bag onto his back and nodded to Leliana. She was already in her light armour and took up her bow and dagger. Wynn tossed some of her ale into Oghren's face, the red haired berserker dwarf still had his eyes closed after the drenching. He smacked his lips together as if appreciating the taste.
"Not bad, not bad," he muttered, picking up his axe.
Wynn put on an extra coat before picking up her Lightning rod staff. Daylen slid onto his back the piece of wood that Alpha had found for him. It was actually a staff that resembled a tree branch and had carvings on the handle. Then he put a darkspawn buckler onto his back, and his latest find from when they searched for Andraste's ashes. A Dar'Misan, an elven long sword made from silverite. When Daylen held the blade, he felt it shake in his hand. Sliding it into a sheath on his belt, he would keep it on him until he figured out how to wield it effectively. In the mean time, Daylen strapped the dwarven long sword he got from Orzammar to his back.
"Perhaps the answers you seek concerning that sword lies in the elven ruins," Leliana suggested.
"It seems a lot like a spirit blade hilt used by Knight-Enchanters," Wynn said.
"I've known Knight-Enchanters, if any other mage tries to use the blade it doesn't work for them," Leliana said.
"Daylen though was able to summon a spirit blade without a hilt!"
"That wasn't easy, it never has been," Daylen said, his arm shaking as the women stopped their conversation.
Westeros
The shadows, he called them, darkspawn who had come with him from Thedas. They served as his spies, unseen by the people of Westeros. His blades if he ever called upon them, and his diggers, searching for the secrets of the elves. Chimeron's shadows were in the North and the South of Westeros, one enjoyed the cold and the other despised the scent of the flowers. He snarled and spat in disgust as he dug through the ruins. The flowers made him sick, the elven art disgusted him and the work itself angered him. Yet still, Chimeron was the one with strength, the one whom he could follow. Or at least the one whose orders he had to obey, given the way he could use the Blight. The shadow raised his hammer and brought down the wall, an elven vault, filled with treasures.
"Disgusting, disgusting elves, disgusting shiny objects…so greedy, want to scrape it all away," he snarled. "But I'm good, I'm good pawn, good pawn in game, gotta take the shard, take a shard of fancy mirror!" he drew a smaller hammer and a chisel from his belt.
He proceeded to smash his hammer against the chisel, pushing it against the glass and chipping away at it.
"He wants piece, piece he'll get, hate mirror, hate looking at me, hate people who look at themselves, ugly people look at themselves, not me, me pretty," his teeth were rotting and his skin flaked.
"Elven ruins, real elven ruins!" he heard a voice in the distance.
Not just a voice, voices, giggles and laughs.
"Humans," he hissed. "Human children, human girls, smell disgusting, make them brood mothers, fill them right up."
He turned, picking the shards up off of the floor, eager to drag a few girls off to his dens. But then he remembered something.
"Oh crap, crap, crap and crap, he said not to get caught, damn, I really wanted to stuff girl's with pieces of me, feed them good meat, watch them turn. But I'm good, good shadow, good pawn, not get caught!"
He drifted into the darkness, letting some of his rogue tricks hide him. The vapour he let out of the pouches on his belt took over and he saw a retinue of people come in. He wanted to rant about the awful prettied up humans, they were the particularly disgusting kind. They hid themselves with makeup, with rings and pretty dresses. Especially the one they were all following, she was thin, she needed to have her belly bloated, she needed to be a brood mother.
'No, hold it in, did job, now go back,' the Shadow thought.
Dickon Tarly could have sworn he heard something in the elven ruins. Since Dayk Amell's proposal at his tournament, Lady Tyrell had her handmaidens and some of the other guests of the event celebrate in the woods. Dickon's father would rather have had them hunting, their mother told them to enjoy themselves. In truth, Dickon hated his father and his treatment of Sam.
"Actual Elven ruins, I never knew they would be underground," Samwell Tarly said.
"Wasn't their city, Armatham across the sea?" one of the girls asked.
"It's Arlathan, but you see the elves were once an empire that was spread out across the continents, then the first men came, elven kingdoms began to fall one by one. In Tevinter, the Imperium took credit for the fall of the great elven empire, here, they blame the others and the subsequent rise of the first men and Andals," Sam explained.
Dickon had practiced with the sword, and knew one day he would be heir to Hornhill, if only because his father seemed to despise Sam's intellect and his interests in books over hunting.
"Oh Samwell, I didn't know all of this, thank you," said Margaery Tyrell.
She was the most beautiful girl Dickon had ever seen. Her handmaidens envied her, yet there seemed to be envy from the Tyrell heiress. Especially in the way she regarded her hand maiden Mira.
'I thought she would be happy for her,' Dickon thought.
"A mirror," Elinor said.
She and Alla looked at the mirror and brushed their hair. Suddenly, one of them screamed and backed away from the mirror.
"What is it?" Samwell asked.
"People, there are people looking back at us," Megga said.
It was in the North, in the woods outside of Winterfell, where children of Ned Stark played. Of course, Sansa and Arya were taking their lessons with the Septa. Rickon was with their mother and father. It was a mixture of hunting and sword lessons from Rodrick. Bran pulled back on his bow and aimed at their quarry.
"Just one rabbit, just a little rabbit Bran, don't think about how cute the little thing is, or how you might just be killing off a little litters mother," Theon whispered in Bran's ear.
"That's enough Greyjoy," Rodrick said.
"Relax your arm," Robb told his brother.
"Take a breath," said Jon.
Bran did these things, but when he let the arrow fly, it hit between the rabbit's ears. The little creature broke off into a run and Bran gave chase in frustration.
"You'll never catch it," Robb called after him.
"But go ahead, you might get something for the effort," Theon laughed.
Bran ran underneath branches and over roots, rushing in the same direction the rabbit ran off to. He jumped over a log, but tripped on a branch. Rolling down hill, Bran cut his leg on one of the tree roots sticking out of the ground. Then he hit his head on a stone pavement. Bran's ears rung and he rubbed his forehead in pain. It would bruise later on, but it was the least of Bran's worries. He looked up and saw he had fallen down a blast hole. Underneath the tree he had tripped on, the Earth was hollow. He was in a cavern of some kind, but the tiling of the floor was much better than the castle at Winterfell, if a lot dustier.
"You shouldn't be here," a voice spoke above him.
The Stark boy looked up and gasped. A giant of a man in black stood before him, his teeth were like razors, and from what little of his face Bran could make out the man had some kind of skin deformity. Bandages as well as a hood covered a little bit of his face.
"No, you shouldn't be here at all, that's a shame," the man spoke in a voice that though well mannered, seemed somehow inhuman.
"BRAN!" Robb yelled.
His brothers and Theon slid down the hole, two drawing their swords and the other knocking back his bow. They went in front of Bran, but their presence only seemed to mildly aggravate the man.
"Oh, more witnesses, he said he didn't want any, too bad, too bad," the 'man' drew a sword with a serrated blade from his waist.
Instead of attacking them though, he dragged the blade across his throat.
"Liked living, dying is a pain," he said before he began to gargle.
He grabbed the edges of the cuts and pulled, opening his own throat. Blood gushed out of his wound, hitting Robb's sleeve and striking Jon's face. Jon spat and slashed at the man, knocking him down. The blood leaked out of the man's body, touching an object that Bran couldn't make out in the dark. Markings on the ground suddenly began to glow. As the giant fell to the ground, the runes shined brighter and made the boys shield their eyes. Bran finally saw what was glowing in the room, it illuminated it, a great mirror, and cracks spread across its surface.
"LADS!" Rodrick yelled from the crowd entrance.
The Greyjoy and the three Stark boys felt themselves being lifted off of the ground. Darkness obscured their eyes; the only thing Bran could hear was the shatter of the mirror. The sound was much like what would happen when Arya would throw Sansa's mirrors against the ground, minus the resulting arguments. There was only silence though now, they could hear the rustles of leaves, the creaking of rubble. But then two screams echoed through their ears and pain invaded their backs and heads. They had been thrown like rag dolls, as if the older boys were still small enough to be thrown into the air by Lord Eddard.
"HELP! HELP ME!"
Bran's eyes snapped open; he looked around, and could see that he was in a far older ruin. Roots were sticking out the ceiling, webs had spread across it and the room was filled with dust. He rolled onto his knees and saw Theon rubbing his side, his bow had been snapped in the fall and some of his arrows were scattered about. One of them had gone into Theon's leg, a bit of karma perhaps for his teasing earlier in the day. Bran got off of the floor and saw a number of hunched or fallen figures. Household guards of the Tyrell, if Bran remembered Lewyn's teachings.
"Mira, Mira," a girl in a blue dress shook her friend.
"What happened?" a burly boy with a deer sigil on his shirt looked at his surroundings in confusion.
"Bran," Robb walked towards his brother, going to his knees and hugging him.
"Where's Jon?" Bran asked.
"I'm here," Jon's voice rang through the cave.
His sword had snapped and he was on one knee, checking over an auburn haired girl in a green and gold dress. Ahead of them was a brown haired girl, also in a green dress and a younger boy with a deer sigil on his coat.
"Are you alright my lady?" he asked.
"What happened?" she whispered.
"SHEMLEN!"
The younger girl was grabbed from behind by a dirt hand obscured by the darkness. Bare feet tapped against the stone, and the man held onto the girl's throat tightly, a curved dagger was in his other hand.
"Elinor," the auburn haired girl whispered.
"Let her go ser," the Tarly boy said.
"Shut up, all of you shut up, why are you here? Where is Tamlen?" he demanded.
"An elf," the girl in the blur dress whispered.
"YES OF COURSE I'M AN ELF! This was our home, it's our place, more thieves, you damn Shemlen are all thieves," he snarled in fury.
"Thieves, withdraw such a filthy accusation and let the girl go," the Tarly boy said.
Despite the boy's bravado he yelped when the elf slashed his cheek. He tightened his grip on Elinor's neck, grinding his teeth together. There seemed to be some kind of growth inside him. His veins were black around his neck.
"Let the girl go," Jon followed his request with his sword.
The elf also seemed to take the matter more seriously. Jon was rougher than the Tarly boy, the elf seemed to regard him as a genuine threat.
"Wait please," the other, thicker Tarly boy ran up. "Yes we were in elven ruins, but whatever happened wasn't our fault. We're just as confused about our presence here as you are, maybe, maybe we could help you search for your friend," he explained.
"Shut up you fat Shemlen, you like exploring our ruins, like stealing like your friends outside?" the elf demanded.
"What do you mean our friends outside?" Robb demanded, he had his sword at the ready.
The elf took a few steps forward, but when he truly looked at what the humans were wearing, he began to rethink his initial feelings. They were all high born, supposed nobility, but the men he and Tamlen killed were most likely from the nearby village. He loosened his grip on the girl, but kept his knife raised.
"Something strange happened because of that mirror, damn it Tamlen," he shook his head.
"What happened?" the fat Shemlen asked.
"We came into these ruins to investigate them, to see if there was anything worth finding and taking back for our clan. All we found was that mirror, Tamlen looked right into it and said someone was looking back at him," the elf explained.
"It was the same for us," the Tarly boy said.
"We were in Winterfell," Robb said.
"Highgarden," said the girl with the auburn hair.
"I don't know those Shemlen places, but I'm starting to guess now they're far away right?" the elf asked.
"Where are we right now?" Jon asked.
"The Brecillian forest, in Ferelden," the elf said.
"May I ask your name?"
"Theron, but don't try to get friendly with me, you were all still trespassing on elven ground," Theron said.
"We weren't trespassing, someone had already dug their way into the ruins," Bran said.
"It doesn't matter, right now we need to get out of here," Robb said, supporting Theon by his shoulder.
Theron shoved Elinor away, pointing his dagger at Jon. A rock suddenly came down from the ceiling, and Theron moved forward, pushing Jon and the auburn haired girl out of the way. He then dived to the right as a creature came off of the ceiling. The natives of Westeros looked at the creature in shock, Dickon Tarly shaking his head in utter denial of the creature.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING? MOVE!" Theron yelled.
"This can't be real, it can't be real," Dickon said.
A giant spider rotated its body until its eyes blinked at Dickon. Then it released a snarl before opening its jaws. Pincers stabbed into Dickon's neck, suddenly pulling the boy into the spider's mouth. Sam gasped in horror and the Westerosi ladies screamed. The guards were terrified too, hands shaking as they were surrounded by smaller spiders. A web suddenly enveloped one, before pulling him into the shadows screaming. The sound of ripping flesh filled the air as Bran let out panicked breaths. Another spider leapt from the ceiling, only for Samwell to run into Bran, scooping him up off of the floor and running way from the spider.
"You saved me," Bran whispered.
"My body just moved on its own," Sam whimpered.
"Did you just piss yourself?" Theon asked, sniffing the air around Sam.
"Move close to the torches, they don't like the fire, JON COME TO US NOW!" Robb yelled.
"Move," Jon told the auburn haired girl.
A spider skittered close towards them, moving faster than Jon anticipated. He was barely able to swing his sword up, catching the spider's leg and making it back off. The girl behind him backed away, overcome with fear.
"It's a nightmare, a nightmare, not real," one of the summer guards was on their knees, laughing madly.
But he was swept off of the ground, his head and sword dropped onto the ground. Theon pulled one of the torches off of the wall and thrashed it at the spiders that came near them. The auburn haired girl Jon was protecting screamed when a spider came towards her. Jon quickly turned, slashing the spider across the face and making it scream. He then turned to the spider behind him, 'parrying' its sharp leg. Suddenly, his vision blurred and he began to cough and fall to his knees.
"No, get up, protect me," the girl said.
"JON!" Bran yelled.
Elinor screamed as her dress was caught up in webs. She was suddenly pulled onto her back and dragged towards a group of dog sized spiders. The other girls screamed as she was mauled.
"Mira, wake up, you have to wake up," the girl in the blue dress said.
Bran grit his teeth together, seeing his brother moved between two spiders, even as he coughed with blood shot eyes. Robb left Theon with Samwell and rushed to help the girls.
"ROBB! THERON WHERE DID YOU GO!" Theon yelled.
But the elf was nowhere in sight. Bran brought his hands to his head, the ground beneath him suddenly beginning to frost over. Despite the terror around them, Theon and Sam looked at the young Stark in concern. Jon and Robb too both saw this, and looked to their brother in concern.
"LOOK OUT!" the girl Jon protected screamed.
The giant spider raised its leg to pierce Jon. Suddenly, a fireball rushed through the darkness, smashing into the spider's face. It recoiled, skittering back and screaming in pain. An arrow pierced the back of the spider attacking Robb, and he took this opportunity to grab the two summer maidens. He got Mira onto his back and kept her companion close. A great yell drew some of the spiders away from the group. They were astonished when a red haired dwarf came at them, bringing his axes down on the spiders. He hacked two legs off before grabbing another leg and swinging the spider like a morning star, smashing other spiders with him. His axe glowed with fire and he grinned with sadistic glee before crashing it into a giant spider's head. A spark of electricity knocked one of the spiders back before an arrow pierced through its head. Then came a line of fire that dragged across the biggest spider in the ruin.
Jon, Robb and Theon were astonished when a flaming sword, like what they heard Thoros of Myr wielded, burst through the spider's head. The wielder of this flaming sword though had a brighter flame, and he was capable of putting the flame out without touching it. Electricity then ran across his sword as he began to slice through the smaller spiders around him. He stabbed and cut, moving fast but not with the finesse of a trained swordsman. The young man's fished smashed onto a spider, some kind of dark energy began to spread across the spider's body. It twitched before it's skin bubbled and then popped.
The last of the spiders fell to the young swordsman's blade. He turned and looked towards the group, exposing to them his red eyes.
"Looks like you weren't wrong about the blight being here," the dwarf said.
"We were following the trail of a group of men who were killed outside the ruin, I doubt they had anything to do with it," the archer, a red haired woman said.
An older woman moved towards the Westerosi. A light glowed in her hands as she touched Theon's leg. The pain that stung it seemed to fade as his wound began to heal.
"This is magic," Sam gasped.
"Of course it is," the red haired woman said.
"Something tells me Leliana that these aren't just sheltered nobles," the old woman said.
"Yep, definitely something different about them," the dwarf let out a belch, much to the disgust of the Southern ladies.
"Dickon," Sam whispered, stepping over his brother's headless corpse.
The other ladies mourned more for their dead friend than the guards. The brown haired man carried Elinor's body and gently laid it with the others. He then walked to the shattered remains of a mirror.
"This things coated in taint," he said, beginning to gather the shards into a bag.
"Is that really something you want to take with you?" the red haired woman asked.
"Better to take it with me than let the elves have it, something's are better left buried," he strapped the pouch to his belt and then looked towards Bran. "It's all right," he said to Bran as he approached.
"What's happening to me?" Bran asked as a cold mist gushed from his hands.
"You're awakening your magic," the young man said, crouching by Bran.
He looked Bran up and down, and then looked at the others.
"You're probably the first Westerosi mage for a thousand years," he said.
"Westeros, I thought the clothes were familiar," the red haired woman said.
He brought his hand to Bran's chest; a light suddenly began to shine on it.
"Calm down, your magic reacts to your emotions, in the mean time Wynn and I will put an anti-magic ward on you," he said.
"We'll make our way back to the surface," the old woman, Wynn said.
The brown haired man uncorked a bottle filled with a blue liquid. He drank the whole bottle and lingered behind the group.
"Are you going to cause a cave in? The elves won't like that," the red haired woman shook her head mockingly.
"Under the circumstances I think it's better if this page of elven history remains lost," he said.
The dwarf led them along, and Robb looked over his shoulder curiously. He saw the mage from before raise his hand to the ceiling, a blast of fire suddenly crashing into it. Rubble began to fall down on the area they fought the spiders in, the mage following the group through the ruins. A sense of relief resonated through the group when they reached the surface, the fresh air finally hitting them. Sam sat on a log, the mourning for his brother still evident on his face. The ladies from the south flocked to the auburn haired girl, who was wiping her eyes.
"I can tell it's the first time quite a few of them have seen death," the red haired woman said.
"This is no place for people who can neither fight nor fend for themselves," the dwarf said.
"How does it feel?" Jon asked Theon about his leg.
"Good as new, whatever the old woman did she's good, maybe she can see to you," Theon said.
"I'm fine," Jon concealed his cough with his hand.
The mage turned away from his companions and walked to the group from Westeros.
"First of all, I'm sorry about your kin," he said to both Sam and the auburn haired girl. "But I need you to tell me exactly what happened to bring you here."
So the North told him of how they crashed through a ruin and found some strange man and a mirror. Whilst the south spoke of an innocent trek through the woods, finding elven ruins and suddenly triggering some kind of magic. Of course they were sceptical of the existence of magic, but as Sam put it, considering what they had witness there was nothing else they could call it but magic.
"This man's blood triggered the Eluvian?" the mage asked.
"That was an Eluvian?" Wynn asked.
"What are those?" the dwarf asked.
"Artefacts of an elven nature, Orlesian scholars theorised they were part of a communication network, hence why the ladies saw those two Dalish hunters," the red haired woman explained.
"Or considering what happened, perhaps it's some sort of transportation," the mage said.
"So we could use it to get home?" Samwell asked.
"The mirror shattered, and they just buried it behind us," the auburn haired girl said.
She stroked her chin as she spoke, looking at the red eyed man.
"You're Daylen Amell aren't you?" she asked.
Robb gasped and heard the southern ladies whispered amongst themselves, particularly to the Forrester girl. The red eyed man briefly touched the mask across his mouth before he looked at the girl.
"That is my name, I assume you're familiar with my family," he said.
"Oh they have made quite an impression, your younger brother Dayk was recently betrothed to my handmaiden Mira here," the auburn haired girl motioned to Mira, who hesitantly nodded towards Daylen.
"This is Mira Forester, also with me is Sera Durwell, and my cousins Alla and Megga Tyrell, my cousin Elinor and our guards were lost to those monsters, I am Margaery Tyrell," she looked up at Daylen as she said her name.
Leliana rolled her eyes, seeing there was some attempt to flirt on Margaery's part. She knew a player of the game when she saw one, but was thankful Daylen was wise to her charms. He just nodded his head at her before turning to Sam.
"Samwell Tarly, my brother Dickon…" the boy's voice quivered.
Oghren snorted, but Wynn promptly punched him in the face.
"Someone named their son…"
"We know what they called him idiot," Wynn snarled.
Daylen turned to the northern group, tipping his head to them.
"Well, as Lady Margaery has already introduced me. The women behind me are Wynn and Leliana, respectively a senior enchanter of the Ferelden circle of magi and formerly a sister of the Lothering chantry, and the drunken dwarf over there is Oghren of Orzammar, forgive his attitude, he's actually the best warrior in our group," Daylen explained.
"He saved our lives as all of you did, we are grateful for this. I am Robb Stark, son of Eddard Stark, warden of the North and lord of Winterfell, and these are my brothers Brandon Stark and Jon Snow," Robb stated, bowing.
"I'm no lord, cut the bowing," Daylen shook his head.
"I am Theon Greyjoy, son of Balon Greyjoy, lord of the Iron islands," Theon said.
"How is your leg?" Daylen asked and Theon grinned.
"I'm already enjoying the wonders of magic," he said.
Daylen huffed before looking between Theon and Robb.
"My uncle died on the Iron islands, at the hands of Stark men," he said.
An uncomfortable silence then formed over the group. Theon nearly glared at Daylen, but then Daylen took off his mask. The ladies gasped at the burn marks on his lower mouth, the line across his cheek. The sons of the two great Westerosi lords though bowed their heads.
"He died protecting the people my father put in danger, on behalf of my fellow Iron islanders I thank you for your uncle's courage," Theon said.
"And on behalf of the people of the North and the Stark family I apologise, our men acted dishonourably that day. Your uncle proved his honour without a doubt," Robb explained.
Daylen smirked and chuckled.
"Any grudge I hold is against men I probably won't meet, I know what my uncle did on the Iron islands and I am proud of it. But I am happy to know that his memory is at least respected. Rest easy I have no ill will towards any of you," Daylen explained.
"My thanks again, but we cannot remain here, we must get home somehow," Robb said.
"We have business with the Dalish here, after that you can accompany us to Redcliffe to explain the situation to Arl Eamon, and then to Denerim where you'll be able to get a ship and return home," Daylen explained.
He was drawn to Jon though when the man began coughing. Robb and Bran turned to him in concern, even Theon seemed worried when Jon fell to his knees.
"Jon what's the matter?" Bran asked.
"Wynn," Daylen called out to the mage as he walked to Jon's. "You said this man you found cut his own throat, did any of the blood go on you?"
"On my sleeve, but some of it went on Jon's face," Robb said.
"What's wrong?" Wynn asked.
"I think he has the taint," Daylen said.
He pulled Jon's eyelid back, seeing the darkness in Jon's eyes. Then there was the blackened veins, and though he didn't share this with Wynn, he could actually sense the taint within Jon. There was a subtle whisper in his ear, like what he would experience when darkspawn were near. He felt it from the mirror shards, and now he felt it flowing in Jon's blood.
"What's happening to him?" Robb asked.
"He was infected with something called the taint, I'm sorry, but unless he's given the treatment, he'll die horribly!"
"Oghren!"
"What, there's no sugar coating it Leliana, kid's gonna die if he doesn't go through the joining!"
"What is this joining?" Margaery asked.
"It isn't a cure, it's a calling," Daylen said.
He stood over Jon and extended his hand to him.
"Jon Stark, I'll ask you now, do you wish to dedicate yourself to the Grey Wardens?" he asked.
The group from Westeros widened their eyes; some hearing of the Grey Warden's supposed betrayal of the Ferelden king. But Jon looked at them from another angle. He thought of his cold treatment by Lady Catelyn, his desire to join the Night's Watch but more than that his desire to belong to something. Despite what Daylen called him, he wasn't a Stark. Yet the red eyed man said it with such certainly, and looked at him the same way he looked at everyone. Equal part suspicion and equal part affection. Was there a judgemental bone in Daylen Amell's body? Jon couldn't tell, he was a difficult man to read. Emotive, yet empty, cold yet kind, who was Daylen Amell truly and what really were the Grey Wardens. An Amell once told him the watch was nothing more than a group filled with criminals seeking an escape and younger noble children seeking fame. Still there was corruption and judgement within it.
"I am not a Stark," he said.
"Fine, Jon then, do you accept?" Daylen huffed.
There, he saw it in Daylen's eyes. Then again he knew not if Daylen was a bastard too. Either way this man accepted him and offered him more than just a chance to live.
"I accept," Jon said, taking Daylen's hand.
Next Chapter 22: The Blood mine
Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter, and the new twist to the story.
Next time we go to Westeros, with the great families reacting to the disappearances of their kin and Leo furthering his plans in the west.