Hello everyone,
I liked writting this chapter a lot, probably because I love Maester Aemon as a character and we see him again. I hope you enjoy it as well! Alos, I had a lot of fun writting the dream but it is a little peculiar, I was not sure it would belong in this chapter. Anyway, the next few chapters will be packed with action so it shall be fun.
As always, thank you to those of you who take the time to review, follow and favourite.
Enjoy!
Chapter XXXVIII: For the Watch
The doors of the palisade opened slowly to reveal the two men that had threatened him with bows before. They still looked frightened to death and held spears of splinted wood and iron in front of them as they walked slowly toward Daeron. Splinted wood and iron! Not even steel… What in the seven hells had happened to the Wall? If this was the defence they currently had, it was even worse than the last time, worse than he imagined. They would not even withstand an attack of thousand wildlings, let alone a hundred thousand.
Slowly, through the doors, he started to see someone else appear in the background. Assisted by two young boys, Maester Aemon was walking toward the doors. Daeron ignored the two 'guards' who opposed no resistance when he walked past them and into the yard.
"Uncle!" He rushed to Aemon. He took him in his arms. "I had heard you were dying, why are you out? You do not look that bad…"
"You have eyes, Nephew, but you are blinder than I am. I am dying, make no mistake. Now, tell me, why are the boys so worried? I can feel it…" Aemon smiled his toothless smile.
"I came on my dragon's back…" He told his uncle with a hint of mischief in his voice.
"Heavens, you have a dragon?" The old man appeared to be the only black brother to be happy about it. "What is its name?"
"Her name is Rhoynax, and I have two dragons. The other is with my wife and son on their way to see Daenerys." Daeron told him thinking of all the things he wished to tell his uncle.
"By the Seven, you have a lot to tell me, but first, let us bring the black brothers around. What will Rhoynax do?" He asked.
"Sleep outside the gates for now." Daeron declared.
"Alright." The old maester turned to one of his assistants. "Bring everyone in the courtyard." He ordered to the youth who ran to do his bidding. Aemon led Daeron to one of the wooden passage ways above the yard and waited for all members of the Night's Watch to assemble. Daeron was baffled to discover that Castle Black was now manned by children, elders and cripples. He also saw the fat man he had met years ago, he could not remember his name, the one that had been going toward the Wall when he had gone back to Winterfell. "Brothers, we have a guest, my great-great-nephew." Aemon announced with a croaked voice.
"My name is Daeron Targaryen, son of Rhaegar Targaryen and his wife, Lyanna Stark. For my protection, I was formerly known as Jon Snow, bastard son of Ned Stark. The Night's Watch has no care for the quarrels of the Realm. I would therefore ask you to keep my existence a secret." He honestly did not care if they did, by the time the news reached any keep, he would be far away almost in Essos… And when he would come back to Westeros, it would be war anyway. He saw some of the men nod and others gulp. "I have come to visit my uncle and help you, for a time." Aemon frowned at his side, they needed to talk. "We shall talk again at supper." He went to leave and then remembered another important thing. "Rhoynax will be sleeping outside the gates, as long as you do not disturb her, she is no threat to you." He did not wait for a reaction to follow his uncle into his study.
...
"Married to Arianne Martell of Dorne and with a son already? You did not lose time nephew." Aemon had had a bad fit of coughing and was now stuck in his bed. "You said you came to help the Watch?" Now that his uncle had told him what happened, he felt it was even more needed.
Lord Commander Mormont had gone beyond the Wall moons ago after reports of Mance Rayder's army became serious. That confirmed what he had seen in his dream. The last raven he had sent was in the middle of an attack a month before, an attack by White Walkers, as absurd as it sounded. If anyone else had told Daeron that the Others existed and were marching on the Wall, Daeron would not have believed it, but he had to believe Aemon. His Uncle had been through so much, known a different era… If he believed there was such a threat North of the Wall, then at least Daeron had to look into it. Jeor Mormont was assumed dead, so were the three hundred men he had brought with him. Ser Alliser Thorne was currently North of the Wall in a three days mission to look for survivors, but he would not go far. With luck, he would be back before the wildling's attack.
Daeron told him of his dream. He saw the concern rise on Aemon's face as he spoke and described what he had understood of Mance's plan. "…and so that's why I said I was here to help."
"You mean to use your dragon in battle?" Aemon asked with worry.
"I mean to use her to scare the wildlings out of battle. If what you say is true of the White Walkers then I believe it would be in our interest to parlay with them." He tried to reason.
"Try saying that to my thick-headed brothers." His uncle scoffed triggering more coughs.
"I have a dragon at my back and the Conqueror's crown on my head." Daeron commented.
"Really? Can I touch it?" Daeron gave the crown he had brought with him to his uncle. "Where was it?" Aemon asked after having held and felt the metal and the rubies."
"In Sunspear…" Daeron replied.
"It makes sense… Yes, you could try and install the wildlings in the Gift. But you would need to find them a purpose soon, these are not people who stay idle long…"
"I know, but I will be in a war soon anyway. In the meantime, one problem after the other… we need to convince everyone first and then I need to meet my aunt and convince her as well." He told the old man.
Speaking of family seemed to delight his uncle more. Aemon asked some more questions about his namesake and Daeron's wife. He was also interested in the fate of the Stark children. He even chastised Daeron for risking himself in the rescue of his cousins at King's Landing. All in all, talking about his great-great-nephews adventures lifted some years from his shoulders. He told Daeron of the excitement of his own youth. The Court of his uncles, the plays with Aegon V, the mischiefs with his fellow acolytes at the Citadel. Aemon Targaryen sounded like he had been a joyous, smart young man seventy years before. But he had lived through so much. The death of most of his family, the Wall. Yes, even the Wall, it still had some panache when he first arrived there. He had seen its fall.
One of the boys who attended to the maester's needs interrupted them to inform Daeron that quarters had been made available to him. He left his uncle to his rest then.
On the way to the tower where he would sleep, Daeron encountered once more the fat man he had met on the road. He looked most unhappy. He was sweeping away the snow on the wooden passage way with a broom that was not effective at all. He had difficulty breathing and his chubby face was red and flushed.
Daeron had to have frowned at him because the boy who accompanied him explained. "This is Lady Piggy, don't mind him, Ser Alliser says he will soon be dead anyway."
"That he will." Daeron commented under his breath. "Leave us." He ordered the boy. The fat man lifted his head to look at him only to bow it back down when their eyes met. "I did not think you would survive until now." Daeron told him. That was a lie, Daeron had not thought anything of the man since they had met. What was his name again?
"Me neither, my Lord… I mean my Prince… or your Grace…" He reddened even more, if that was possible, as he struggled with the title.
"Last one is correct." Daeron indicated and the man nodded. "What is your name again?"
"Sam… Samwell Tarly, your Grace." The man stuttered.
"And what have you been doing since you arrived, Samwell Tarly?" Visibly not much, Daeron thought. This was a man of noble birth, educated in a castle… Could they not have found something better for him to do? Daeron bet he could read and write and understand numbers, these were valuable skills in a pack of outlaws and unwanted scums.
"They made me swear my vows after a year… when Ser Alliser finally gave up on the idea of training me. I mean… I always did the same thing, roll in the mud at the first blow. I found the others were less likely to beat me if I did… I'm a coward… I told everyone so…" The man explained with no ounce of self-respect. "Since then, I have been sweeping the floor, scrubbing the dishes… it hurts, it is not even fit for a craven like me…"
"I can see that…" Daeron nodded. "And before the Wall, what did you do? What did you like to do?"
"I enjoyed reading, mostly… I spent a lot of time with the maester. At least until my father forbade it…" Daeron remembered now, the story of Lord Tarly threatening to kill his son if he did not take the Black. The lad seemed sad and sighed a lot.
"Had you ever thought of becoming a maester? Actually, they forsake their claims to inheritance as well. Why did your father send you here and not to the Citadel?" Daeron asked.
He saw the eyes of the young Tarly lighting up. "I would have loved to… But my father… he said the Wall would teach me how to be a man." Once more, he looked at his feet.
"Clearly it failed." As soon as Daeron said that, the man reddened again in embarrassment. "I will talk about you to Maester Aemon." Daeron said. If what his uncle feared came true, Castle Black would need a new maester soon. Why not one who had already taken the black?
...
Ser Alliser Thorne arrived back at Castle Black the next morning. One blow of the horn signaled his return. Unfortunately, he was empty ended, he had not seen any of the lost brothers nor any wildlings. Daeron joined Maester Aemon in the ward to meet him. Daeron watched as he emerged from the ice tunnel and rode into the courtyard, followed by thirty rangers. He dismounted and walked towards them. He looked suspicious at first, frowning, Daeron did not now if he recognised him from the last time he had visited the Wall. Then, the old knights eyes widened and became fixated on Daeron's pin, the one that fastened his heavy woolen cloak and furs, a three-headed dragons.
"What is the meaning of this?" He asked first towards Maester Aemon. Then, he turned to Daeron. "I remember you, you're Jon Snow, the bastarg of Winterfell."
Daeron's uncle chuckled lightly. "Ser Alliser, allow me to present my great-great-nephew, Daeron of House Targaryen, son of Rhaegar and Lyanna Targaryen."
"That's impossible…" Ser Alliser insisted. Daeron could see the conflict happening inside the man, on the one hand there was anger and on the other, hope.
Daeron called on to Rhoynax to rise, fly in a circle above Castle Black and go back to her rest. The men who had just arrived backs away in fear, even Thorne was frightened. "Don't worry," Daeron told all of them, "she won't attack you unless you do. Ser Alliser, we have things to discuss." Daeron led the way to the Maester's solar.
Once inside, he told his story once more. Who he was, how he had gotten there and what he planned to do. "I understand that you have always been a strong supporter of my House, Ser Alliser." Daeron ended his speech.
"I am, your Grace. This is why I am here." The knight replied.
"It was an injustice, but you have served the Wall faithfully, I believe." Daeron told him.
"I think it was my calling, I would not abandon it… Your Grace." The knight looked uncertain. It would have been in Daeron's power to relieve the man of his vows, but it was not his wish. This was what he wanted to know.
"I would not ask anything of the sord, Ser." Daeron reassured him. Then, he went on to explain the dream he had.
"Impossible!" Ser Alliser answered when Daeron described the wildling army. "You can't get fifty wildlings together before they start killing each other."
"One hundred thousand." Daeron repeated. "Mance Rayder united the Thenns, the Hornsfoot, the Ice River clans, he even has giants fighting for him."
"Giants?" Thorne asked incredulously. "I mean no offence, your Grace, but can your dreams truly be trusted?"
"I saw the Battle of the Blackwater as accurately as if I had been there." Daeron replied. "I cannot guarantee anything, but I believe we should act as if what I saw was true." He saw the man nod and so did Aemon. "There's a band of wildlings South of the Wall already, led by a man named Tormund."
"Rangers know of him…" Ser Alliser commented.
"Their orders are to attack Castle Black unaware from the South and open the gates for Mance. The signal will be a bonfire, the biggest one the North has ever seen, I heard them say." Both leaders of the Night's Watch seemed genuinely concerned at this point.
"But I don't understand why…" The knight looked almost lost.
"They claimed they were running away from the White Walkers, it sounded like a question of survival for them." Daeron explained.
"White Walkers are a children's tale." Ser Alliser said.
"So are giants…" Daeron reminded him. "It would take a serious threat to get the wildlings together, Ser."
"You're right. Do you have a plan, your Grace?" The man looked at him with hope in his eyes. Daeron understood why. Without him, Castle Black did not stand a chance.
"We will arm all of the brothers as best as we can in case there is indeed a battle. But, when the band comes from the South, I believe a little fire from Rhoynax should be enough to dissuade them. We will take them captive then until we have dealt with Mance." Daeron started to explain his plan. "Then, when the main army arrives, we do the same trick. They should ask for a parlay soon enough. I plan on offering him to cross the Wall under certain conditions."
"Your Grace! The Night's Watch will never stand for it!" Ser Alliser protested.
"I don't think the Night's Watch is in any shape to refuse." Daeron hissed. "They will have to obey the rules unless they want to burn. Settle peacefully in the Gift under the supervision of Castle Black. They shall also come to your aid whenever called upon and three hundred men, will remain here for emergencies. If indeed the White Walkers are real and marching South, you will need their help. Am I understood?"
"Yes, your Grace…" The man mumbled relunctantly. Daeron would have to think of a way to maintain the peace, and soon, but first they needed to convince the wildlings.
...
The next day saw two strange arrivals at Castle Black. The first happened early in the morning, when Ser Alliser, now acting Commander, assembled all the brothers in the Hall to expose the plan that they would most likely have to carry out the very next night. One of the watchers on the Wall, blew the horn. Full of hope that it announced the return of their Commander the black brothers ran outside. It was not Jeor Mormont. It was two men, Daeron recognised them, they had been new recruits when he had first visited the Wall. They looked exhausted, starved and freezing.
"What took you so long?" Thorne asked brutishly.
"We were held up." One of the man, with short dirty red hair answered panting.
"By what?" The Commander insisted.
"Chains." The other, shorter than his friend and with long oily black hair held up his wrists. "There was a mutiny." He continued with difficulty. "The few of us who managed to escape from the Fist of the First Men, we assembled in Craster's Keep" Daeron had no idea who Craster was supposed to be. "Half the men rebelled, they put a knife through Craster's skull first, then in the Old Bear's belly. They hold the Keep now. They have taken Craster's food and his wifes."
"The girl probably never knew they would miss their daddy." The other man commented. Daeron had not heard much about this Craster but he did not seem like a good man already. The murder of Lord Commander Mormont was a sad news and a hard blow for the Night's Watch.
"We need to avenge the Old Bear!" One brother shouted.
"We will!" Alliser promised solemnly. "But not today. We have less than a day before the Wildlings attack. Once they are dealt with, I will lead the avenging party myself!" He vowed.
"What if Mance Rayder finds the traitors?" Samwell Tarly, the fat man asked. Daeron had talked to Aemon, after the attack was dealt with, the man would depart for Oldtown to form his chain. "What if they tell him how weak we are?" Some brothers snorted or openly laughed at their 'Lady Piggy'. Under other circumstances, it would indeed have been a problem.
"They don't know we have a dragon." Daeron answered calmly. "No need to worry."
The second arrival was much funnier. A few men arrived from King's Landing to take the Black. Ser Alliser received them in the yard with Maester Aemon. One of the men was bald and richly clothed though not necessarily prepared for the cold. He introduced himself cockily.
"I am Lord Janos Slynt of Harrenhal." Daeron almost laughed. Harrenhal was passed from one lord to the other as of late and there was no House Slynt, this man was lowborn, elevated to lordship when it served the purpose of the Lannisters, no doubt. And now they had no use of him anymore, so they sent him to the Wall. "I was the Commander of the City Watch in King's Landing. I come with a letter from King Joffrey himself."
"King Joffrey has no power here!" An unnamed brother shouted. The man seemed taken aback and Daeron was, again, close to losing it but he held still.
"The letter was given by the Hand of the King, Tywin Lannister." Well, this one was not dead, last Daeron had heard of.
Ser Alliser quickly introduced himself as well, he made no effort to hide his disdain of the man. Then, he took the letter, read it quickly and snorted once he was done. He gave it to Daeron. "You should read it, your Grace."
Janos Slynt seemed to take notice of Daeron then. "A Targaryen sympathiser!" He kept shouting and pointing at Daeron whilst the King read the letter. Black brothers restrained him.
The King is sympathetic of the Night's Watch situation. Lord Commander Mormont's disappearance is a regrettable event. Unfortunately, with the wars raging on throughout the Realm, his Grace cannot spear any man. He sends you Lord Janos Slynt, his dear friend, to help fill the lack of leadership at the Wall.
Lord Tywin Lannister, Hand of the King
Daeron laughed. Janos Slynt was still screaming and calling for treason. Daeron walked slowly to him. "I am not a sympathiser, lackwit! I am Daeron Targaryen, the Third of My Name, and you should bow before your King." He enjoyed seeing the colour leave the man's face as he stopped struggling and his eyes widened.
"Joffrey of the House Baratheon is my King, boy! I won't bow for a pretender." He said defiantly once he has regained his composure.
"The Night's Watch is soon to be under attack by wildlings. As acting Commander, I've decreed that we would be under the orders of King Daeron until the threat is dealt with." Ser Alliser intervened. "You will do as his Grace commands."
The bald man shook his head. "No, I won't have it! I am loyal to the Lannisters!"
"A few seconds ago, it was the Baratheons…" Daeron commented. "The Lannisters must not have loved you very much if they sent you here."
"I won't be insulted by you, Usurper!" The 'Lord' spat.
"Ser Alliser?" Daeron asked.
"You refuse my command to obey the King?" Alliser asked the defiant man.
"He is no King!" Janos Slynt answered once more.
"Well boys, bind him." The acting Commander ordered. He nodded toward Daeron and they both understood what the other wanted. "Take him outside of the palisade." His orders were executed. Jonos Slynt stood in the snow and Daeron called Rhoynax once more. As soon as the dragon appeared, the 'Lord' soiled himself. "If you have any last words, now is the time." Ser Alliser said.
"Please, please, mercy! I am just afraid! I am a craven! I will obey his Grace! Targaryens are the rightful monarchs…" And on and on his plea went.
After a good minute, Daeron had had enough of it. "Dracarys." The flames engulfed the cowardly 'Lord' who screamed for only a few seconds before the flesh melted of his blackened bones and he was no more.
...
The Targaryen he met in that night's dream he recognised instantly. He had seen her face drawn or painted in so many books. Rhaenys Targaryen, sister-wife of Aegon the Conqueror rode upon her dragon, Meraxes. She was beautiful, as the legend said, with her long silver-gold hair which she wore loose and her deep purple eyes. Daeron joined her on Rhoynax and they landed on a hill from where they could see a battle in the making.
"It is time you saw what a dragon can do in battle, boy." The young woman said as she dismounted her dragon. Daeron followed her on foot.
"Yes, my Queen." He replied politely, waiting to see what she had in store for him.
As the battle unfolded in front of their eyes, Rhaenys started explaining it, or rather, telling him the tale of it as if she was telling him a bedtime story. "One by one the so-called Kings of each Kingdom were bending the knee or facing the wrath of my husband." She started as the men clashed into one another below them. "Aegon of Old Valyria. Aegon who was blood of the dragon. After defeating the Ironman at Harrenhal and slaying the last of the Storm Kings, Aegon and us, Visenya and I, set our sights on other prizes. First, the gold mines of the Rock and the fertile lands of the Reach. King Loren Lannister and King Mern Gardener foolishly thought their combined armies could beat back our host." From where he stood, it looked like they could have been right. Their army was ten times the size of the Conqueror's. "They rode forth together their proud banners flapping in the wind and faced off against us in a vast golden field of wheat." Yes, he could see that. It seemed the Queen was one for stories since she insisted on describing everything they saw. "The two Kings commanded a massive force of nearly sixty thousand and it appeared the day was theirs… until Aegon, Visenya and I unleashed all three of our dragons for the first and only time. Visenya rode Vhagar whose fiery breath could melt armour. My Meraxes' jaws were big enough to swallow a horse hole. Greater still was Balerion, the Black Dread with fire dark as night and wings so huge whole towns were covered in shadow when he flew overhead. Four thousand men were bathed in dragonflame that day on what came to be known as the Field of Fire. It could have been beautiful – Visenya thought so – if it was not for the screams and smells." He could see what she meant. The orange, golden and yellow flames were magnificent, glorious even. But the sounds of dying men made it look like the Seven Hells. "King Mern was among the dead and House Gardener died with him. When Loren Lannister witnessed Mern's fate, he wisely bent the knee. My husband spared his life – much to my sister's displeasure – and the Lannisters were made Lords Paramount of the Westerlands and Wardens of the West. After his" – theirs, Daeron thought – "triumph on the Field of Fire Aegon's conquest was assured. In a short time the so called Seven Kingdoms were melted down in the heat of the dragonflame and transformed into a single Realm." She ended her story. Then, she turned to look at him.
If he was being honest, he waited for more. Usually, in these types of dreams, his ancestors offered him some morale or counsel. There, Rhaenys only looked at him, and she seemed to be waiting for a reaction. "It is a powerful story, your Grace." He nodded politely with a forced smile.
"Isn't it?" She turned back to the field where men were still dying. "I love telling stories. I would have been an artist if I hadn't been a Queen."
They stayed in awkward silence for a good minute until Daeron mustered some courage to ask his question. "Do you have some sort of lesson for me, my Queen?"
"No." She pouted. "Sometimes, the facts suffice. To be honest I just wanted to tell you a good story. Good luck for tomorrow, boy." She mounted Meraxes and disappeared in the sky.
...
Daeron was awoken by the two blasts of the horn. The attack was upon them. He was already dressed, he had not bothered to take his leather off before going to bed. He strapped his swordbelt on, put on his boots, and donned his cloak. He needed to cross the yard and mount Rhoynax before the wildlings got too close.
In the yard, the black brothers were all preparing as Ser Alliser had ordered them. The knight himself stopped his king as he walked past him and nodded to him. "Your Grace!" Daeron halted. "I just needed to tell you. If I shall die today, I want you to know: I am deeply sorry for the way I received you the first time you came to the Wall." The man seemed sincere. Daeron had almost forgotten about all that, the man had been so helpful since he learned the truth…
"What way?" Daeron gave him a smile. "It has been all forgotten. And you have long been forgiven, Ser." That seemed to satisfy him as they both walked away into battle.
So, I hope you enjoyed our first chapter in Castle Black. Also, I wanted to give a go to a good relationship between Daeron and Ser Alliser, hopefully you will like it.
Next chapter: Daeron and Rhoynax deal with some wildlings.
Guest reviews:
- (Hitman) I think sometimes Doran is a fool, almost as much as Ned Stark, but in a very different way.
I hope you like what happens with the Night's Watch.
Just to keep you informed, Fate of the Red Wolf will be up very soon ;).