Hello everyone!

I've just moved places and I have very little access to internet. So, I will try to keep the updates on time but I can't promise anything...
Well, today we get to see what will happen next and how some of the plans might change... or not.

Thank you so much for the support!

Enjoy!

Chapter XXXVII: The Call

To Jon Snow,

This letter will probably never find you, but as it is the old man's last wish, I must obey.

Maester Aemon at Castle Black is dying. He declared himself that he would not pass the year. It is his dying wish to see you again. He will be waiting at Castle Black for as long as he can, which will not be many months now.

Ser Alliser Thorne, master-at-arms at Castle Black

Never in a million years had Daeron thought he would one day receive a raven from the distasteful master-at-arms of Castle Black. The man had not left the best of impressions when Daeron had visited the Wall. But this was no matter, Daeron was saddened to learn of Aemon's illness. Though at past ninety years of age, it was to be expected. What could he do though? The Wall was thousands of leagues away and Daeron had an aunt to meet. Just as he was thinking this, his vision went dark and and he became vaguely aware that his escort was shouting at him before it all faded away.

He had just left, he knew where he was. The dragons' favourite spot, shielded from the sun by a few rocks in the sand. Weirion was still napping lazily in the shade. He himself had gone into the sunlight. He flapped the wings and roared loudly before taking to the sky. The shimmering sand sparkled underneath him as he went in the direction of the palace.

He saw himself laying in the sand with panicked guards around him. How odd to see his own body from above. His face had become darker than he had imagined. He circled in the air around the small group of humans.

He woke up to see Rhoynax flying in circle above his head. He smiled and then realised that his men were breathing sights of relief. "You were the dragon again, your Grace?" Ser Richard asked with a shaking voice.

"I was." Daeron confirmed. "And I think Rhoynax is right…" He smiled at the dragon who landed near them. He petted her before she flew away again.

"Your Grace?" All men asked in unison. They were clearly confused.

"I need to get back to my wife." He announced mounting his horse. They galloped back to the Water Gardens.

Arianne was waiting anxiously for him near the stable. Of course, she had read the letter already, but she probably did not know what Daeron would have planned. Nor did she give him the chance to explain, she started talking as soon as he set a foot on the ground. "I know you want to go, we could easily divert the boat to Eastwatch by the sea, but that would delay our meeting with Daenerys. Not to mention, your uncle might already be dead by the time we get there." Arianne barely took the time to breath. "Not to mention, we would attract some attention in the North and then you would be forced to war there and we could not go to Essos anymore. And our little Aemon? Will the cold not be harmful to him?" Finally, she sounded like she had said enough.

"Aemon is not going to the North and neither are you. You will board the boat and sail to Essos as planned." Daeron smiled after having kissed her cheek.

"So, your uncle will die alone?" She asked, unbelieving.

"I did not say that…" Daeron told her.

"You want to go alone, but how?!" The anger was already appearing in her voice.

"I will fly Rhoynax and get there by the skies, then I will fly back to you and join you directly on the boat." He explained.

"Your Grace…" Ser Richard and Prince Oberyn, who had been with Arianne, started to protest.

"None of you can be a better protection than a dragon, sers." He killed their protestations before they could begin. "I promise I will not leave Rhoynax's sight, if it makes you sleep better. But I will hear nothing more on the matter!" He looked at them both intensely. They did not look pleased but voiced none of their grievances. "You both will go with the Queen and the Prince. Ser Jaime will stay here with Robb."

"You trust my father with Ser Jaime here?" Arianne countered.

"Jaime will have strict orders, my Queen." He told her with a smile. Indeed, he planned to ask Jaime several things. First of which would be making sure that Myrcella Waters remains alive and fairly treated. Then, there was also the fear that Robb would do something stupid. Putting the two broken men together might benefit them both. Besides, Ser Jaime still needed his training to get his left arm to the level of his right. And lastly, he needed someone to watch Doran. Jaime would make sure Daeron's good father was never fully at ease in his own palace. The prince was not a complete fool, Daeron thought, he would not attack Ser Jaime directly after what happened last time he did something against his king. He had been warned and probably knew that should anything happen to Daeron's 'guests' he would be the first suspect. "The Lady Sansa and Ellaria Sand will go with you to Essos. As an added protection, Obara and Nymeria will remain here to watch over both Prince Doran and Ser Jaime." Better the guards be guarded still.

"Why bring Ellaria?" Oberyn seemed pleased but perplexed.

"I value her opinion." Daeron gave his gooduncle a smile. "I want her to meet my aunt and advise me in Essos." From the corner of his eye, he saw his wife nod. They had the same opinion.

"When do you plan to leave, your Grace?" Ser Richard asked.

"At noon, just enough time to gather my supplies and bid goodbye to Prince Doran." Daeron explained. "You will procede as expected and leave by boat in three days." The men nodded and started to disperse. Before she had the chance to move, Daeron caught Arianne's arm. "How did the letter reach me?" He whispered in her ear. He had smiled all through the conversation and exuded confidence, but he was deeply disturbed by the fact that a letter had found him.

"It had the seal of Lord Bolton…" She murmured back, eyes full of doubt and worry. It made sense for the Watch to send the letter to Winterfell where Roose Bolton lived now. And the man also knew that 'Jon Snow' had intended to go to Dorne. "You might find him at the Wall when you arrive…" Arianne said.

"No way." Daeron dismissed her fear. "He will expect me to come by boat or land. In at least two moons from now then. I will be long gone when he arrives." She nodded and said nothing but her face showed her trouble.

Forgetting about his plans, Daeron swooped his wife of her feet and brought her to their chambers. He would not see her again for over a month probably. He wanted to remember her warmth when he would be freezing up in the northern cold. He wanted to have the memory of how it felt to hold her and kiss her, be inside of her. She definitely did not complain.

...

One last kiss on Aemon's head, one last kiss on Arianne's lips, one last kiss before going into the air. On dragon's back, despite leaving well past noon, he should be able to reach the security of the Marches by the night.

During the day, he watched down as the glimmering sand rolled out under him. It would be the last time in a long time that he would see the beauty of Dorne he guessed. The last time in a long time where he would feel the deliciously hot sun on his skin. Though flying made the air colder with the winds. He was dressed in leather riding clothes, black, lined with red. Inside his small bundle of belongings, he had taken furs for the North and maybe even before that.

The Dornish marches were a surprisingly cold lands, consisting of mountains and highlands. He guessed he was in the beginnining of the Stormlands but far away from any civilisation. As a consequence of the many Dornish wars, the boarder between the southernmost kingdom and its neighbours was mostly deserted except for some gangs of outlaws. Daeron easily found one of the many caves of the region to spend the night. Rhoynax left him for an hour, probably to go hunting. Meanwhile, he built a fire and ate some of the bread and soft cheese he had brought with him. Soon, he would need to hunt as well as he could bring only so much food.

When morning came, and with it the big bright sun, he realised his mistake. He would never be able to travel by day… A peasant or wandering soldier would surely see him, even if he avoided the sight of towns and castle. His frustration was high as he decided to wait for the night to fly again. Rhoynax did not seem more pleased then he was. He spend the day as he had spent the last night, curled up against the flank of the dragon. He managed to get some more sleep as well.

At dusk, he mounted Rhoynax and they flew as fast as they could, for once, he thanked the fall and shortening days that allowed him more time in the air. At the end of the day – or rather night – he had passed the Roseroad and rested on the shores of a river. Probably one if those who would later join the Mander, or maybe the Mander itself. He had no older knight to tell him the name of places this time. Nor did he have Ghost or Arianne. On the way down to Sunspear, when they had reached this part of the journey, he still had his four-legged companion and two weeks to go whereas he had only needed two flying days to get here again. Ghost would have hated Dorne, he laughed a bitter laugh, thinking fondly of the direwolf. Not to mention, he would have had to leave him with Robb in the Water Gardens. He was in a better place now, with Lady and Grey Wind… Still, he missed the great animal.

The following night took him closer to King's Landing then he would have wished. Though, it was necessary. He had debated where to land for this third day. The direct route would take him to the Riverlands, but the Kingdom was an open, flat land, destroyed by war and prone to flooding. He could not guarantee his safety there. The other way was to fly as fast as he could to the deserted mountains of the Vale where he could seek refuge in a lonely valley. He had set his mind on the latter option. Though he started to panic towards the end of the flight. When dawn started to break, he had only flew by Maidenpool and he travelled over the Bay of Crabs. The issue was that there were fishing villages on the other side, not to mention Wickenden. Rhoynax must have felt his panic for she flapped her wings harder. Sure, the sun was already up when they stopped for the day, but Daeron was almost certain that no one had seen them at this early an hour in the morning. If they had, they were fishermen – he had stayed clear of Wickenden – not much credit would be given to their words.

In the mountains of the Vale of Arryn, Daeron saw his first snow since leaving the North. He remembered as bright as if it had happened yesterday, the light fall that had accompanied their first day of march when the northern army left Winterfell. Summer Snows had been frequent then. It was already snowing when Lord Stark and the girls left with the Royal Court to King's Landing. He could only imagine now as Fall had stumbled upon them, the snow near Winterfell would come knee-high. Thrice as much as he had here in the Vale. He took out his furs out and donned his woollen black cloak over the leather. Thankfully, Rhoynax's body was hot so he could sleep in peace and in warmth. He would be in the North the following day.

Even in the night, the beauty of the mountains in the Vale was undeniable. Under the moonlight, the top of the pikes glistened like white velvet and the grey and white rocks created majestic sculpture in the night. It was by no mean a fertile land. More of a cruel one, only inhabited by near-wildlings, the Mountain Clans, forever at war with the Knights of the Vale. Lady Stark had said that her sister, the current Regent of the Vale was half mad. And, Daeron was not to forget, Lady Lysa was family, Lady Catelyn had probably underestimated the depth of the problem, not wanting to downcast her sister. This would most likely prove to be an issue when Daeron conquered the Kingdoms. Though, considering the only answer Robb had ever gotten from his aunt – "The Knights of the Vale are needed to protect their lord, Robin Arryn." – it was likely that a roar from the dragons would rally the craven mad woman to his cause. The Eyrie was rumoured to be impregnable, but so had been Harrenhal, it could not resist dragonfire.

Again, his route proved unwise when he ended the next night over the Three Sisters. Though Rhoynax did not seem to be too tired, she decided, on her own accord and despite Daeron's orders, to fly over sea for the best part of the day. By noon, Daeron was exhausted, she flew higher, over the clouds and landed in a small wood along the Broken Branch. Daeron did not even care about the thick mantle of snow or his grumbling stomach, he went to sleep immediately.

When he woke up, it was around the hour of the bat, he needed to eat and by the time he was ready to mount on Rhoynax again, half of the night had already gone by. It did not matter much, he had flown well the day before. He did not know how he felt being in the North again. On the one hand, he had good memories there. Hunting in the Wolfswoods with Robb and Theon, fighting with snow with Arya and little Bran, riding to the waterfalls… But it was also a land that reminded him of many betrayals. Ned Stark had lied to him all his life hear. Theon had burnt his childhood home to the ground. Bolton later seized this home. Not to mention Robb who clearly betrayed the whole Kingdom. It was as much a source of worry as the Vale for his Conquest. Northern lords had long and unforgiving memories. "The North remembers" the saying went. The North would remember the last Targaryen King and how he burned alive their lord. They would remember that Daeron left Robb's camp before things went too out-of-control. They would remember that when he left he had a direwolf and now he had none. They would remember Robb's mistakes. They would remember that Sansa had been married to a Lannister. They would remember too many thing entirely.

During the flight, he took in the fresh scent of pine trees and something else. Something that had never struck him when he lived in the North. Snow had a smell, or rather a feeling that came through his nose and went to his entire body, even to the bones. He felt at peace in the snow. Long Lake was a fine place to rest for his last day out in the wilds before the walls. Above it there was not much life anyway, except for Last Heart which was far to the East and Molestown just before the Wall. There had been many other castles this far North before, when the Targaryens landed on Dragonstone. But they had all been abandoned. Some Houses had died out, other had deserted their keeps to go southward were the land was better suited for cultures and farming. Now only a few clans, similar to the Mountain Clans of the Vale remained. As a matter of fact, his rest was unperturbed even as he was in the open. Unperturbed by any external factors that is.

...

What stroke him first was the similarity of the dream to the one he had had of the Battle of the Blackwater a year earlier. He knew somehow, atop Rhoynax that he was seeing the present. It was a vast camp with tents made of pelts and fur and leather held by sticks and branches, and covered in snow. Men, women, children, crones even were working around like ants. He could distinguish some skinning rabbits, others transporting wood or even full trunks of trees. And… by the gods… Some of the men were the size of four normal adults mounted on each other's shoulders. They carried four trunks by themselves. Giants… They were giants. But giants were creatures of legends, of North of the Wall, creatures that only Old Nan talked about. So were dragons now that he thought of it.

This had all the components to be a wildling camp North of the Wall, or at least the idea Daeron had of it. Only, there must have been at least a hundred thousand people. The Wildlings were known as a quarrelsome lot, they could never have come together in such power. But there they were all together in their mismatched furs covered in white.

Rhoynax landed, but just as in the Blackwater, no one saw her, nor Daeron. He dismounted and walk around the camp. He saw more of the same, folks going about their daily life in relative harmony. Though he saw a few fights erupt. He felt drawn to one of the tent and entered, the guards did not see him. Inside was a man with filthy long black hair and two other men, one with little hair but a long white beard and a sharp looking axe he kept polishing and the other wore bones as some sort of armour.

The one with the axe seemed pissed. "We should give the signal now, Mance! What are we waiting for? For the other to be eating away at our camp?!" He demanded forcefully.

"We need to wait long enough for Tormund and his men to have time to take Castle Black by surprise!" The man named Mance replied calmly.

"They should have by now!" The man insisted.

"Do you know the Wall? Castle Black? The Crow's defences?" This time he was not as calm, he shouted to the face of the other man. "I know! I was one of them! I say we wait and we will!"

"Aye, you were one of them." The bone man said. "But now you're not, you're King-beyond-the-Wall… But for how long?" There was something threatening in his voice.

"I said I would take the Free Folks South and I will. In four days time we will light the biggest fire the North has ever seen and we will attack their bloody Wall. But not before! If Tormund cannot open the gates for us, we will lose too many." Mance reasoned. Daeron understood what they were talking about. They were planning an attack on the Wall. And with the Night's Watch in the state Daeron had seen before he left the North, they would succeed at invading the Realm. They might lose a few thousands but they would breach. Unless the Wall was defended by a dragon of course. And there was also a party South, with this 'Tormund'.

He needed to see that, how far along they were from Castle Black. If this was indeed real, he needed to be prepared to defend the Wall himself. Not only did he feel it was his duty as King, but an army of Wildlings to the North, even one composed largely of women and children, would make his Conquest all the more difficult.

He found Rhoynax and mounted her again. This time, they flew South, past the Wall. By the miracle of his dreams, they stumbled immediately on a few Wildlings, there must have been no more than fifty. At their head walked a man with red hair and a red beard, followed closely by a red haired woman – maybe his daughter – and a lean man with a long face and rags on his head. Daeron landed and started to walk beside the three wildlings who, once again, could not see him.

"How strong is the Crows' castle? How many men?" The woman asked.

"I don't know, Ygritte?" The red man replied with a voice that hinted that he had heard this question before.

"Shouldn't he know?" She pointed to the last man. "What's the point of a warg if he can't give us bloody answers?" A warg? That was interesting… Daeron wondered what animal he could change skin with.

"It is still too far!" The man defended himself. "Tomorrow perhaps…"

"Mance said we should take ten days to walk to this castle… Then we will be there in three." The bigger man explained.

"And why should we listen to Mance, or to you Tormund?" The girl was getting obviously frustrated. And Daeron had indeed found Tormund.

"Because Mance is our King and he made me your leader!" This shout was enough to wake Daeron up it appeared.

He opened his eyes to find there was no Tormund or Ygritte or whatever the last man's name was around him. He was still alone with Rhoynax on the shore of Long Lake.

After a frugal meal of dry frozen meat, they took to the air one last time. This time, even the furs and Rhoynax's warmth were not enough to keep the cold at bay. By the time the sun rose, he was freezing. Though, he was relieved to see the Wall growing in front of him. At first, it had only been a thin, continues white line on the horizon. The closer he got the bigger it appeared, much like when he came on foot. Only, it was even more impressive from the air for, last time he had only seen it when he had emerged from the forest. On his dragon, he saw it from much farther. He saw the holes in the surface, small cracks or huge crevasses, it shined in the morning light with whites but also blues and golds. Like the biggest jewel the world had ever seen.

Castle Black appeared as a brown and black dot at the foot of the monument. From above, its state of ruin was even more striking. Half of the towers had been torn open and abandoned. The wooden palisade looked ridiculous and some roofs missed tiles. The Night's Watch had been an honourable calling, as Ned Stark had said, but those days were long gone and the appearance of their 'strongest' building was proof of that.

The men must have seen him, or rather Rhoynax, coming because Daeron heard shouts, frightened cries and saw small figures running on the barricades. They were fleeing to the 'safety' of their cells most likely, though a few would surely run to Lord Commander Mormont's chamber and tell him that a beast of legend came outside the gate. The Old Bear would surely laugh, similarly to the way Lady Maege Mormont did when men were fools in Robb's camp. The Lady of Bear Island was dead now, and her daughter and heiress a prisoner at the Twins. The old man would surely come to the doors and greet Daeron with eyes wide as plates.

Rhoynax landed in front of the gate and allowed Daeron to climb down her wing. He waited, feet firmly grounded. But no bear came, he had been there a few minutes already before he lost his patience. "Is someone there?" He shouted. As an answer two bowmen appeared behind the palisade. One was old and grey, clearly beyond his marksman's years. He struggled visibly to hold his bow. The second was no more than a boy. Maybe ten, eleven years old. The distance did not even prevent Daeron from seeing his chin from trembling. These people were weak, even by the Night's Watch's current standards. Something was amiss. "I was sent for by Ser Alliser Thorne." Daeron shouted at the man. No answer. "I am Jon Snow." He grimaced while saying his old name. Silence. "Could one of you fetch Lord Commander Mormont? He knows me." The men frowned but still said nothing. "Maester Aemon?" Daeron tried next. This time, the elderly and the boy looked at each other before the older man ran down inside the castle. Daeron could only hope he had understood.

I decided to give Daeron the advantage of knowing what was coming for him. What do you think of that? Also, I wanted to have a sort of 'calm' chapter where I take the time to describe the flight but don't make it too long either. I hope you liked it.

Next time: Daeron is welcomed at the Watch, he is reunited with Aemon and meets some of our favourite or most detested Crows.

Guest reviews:

- I was inspired from Targs of old, hence the dream ;). I found the concept so cool when I read about it, I could not not include it.
Thank you!

- (Hitman) It could be that Doran is really vicious and twisted in his plans, you're right...
For the war, I think it would be frustrating for me and for you if I show too little.

I won't do that often but today I wanted to talk to you about my other fics. Feel free to not read.
Today, I will finish publishing my first fic about GOT, The sand princess. So, on Sunday, I should be publishing a new one... I have two which have some chapters ready:
- one where Joanna Lannister lives and writes her diaries as a sort of other Lannister powerplayer;
-and the other where Sansa dies a few years after Season 8 and is sent back to her 10 years-old body;
I can't decide which one to publish. If you have an opinion, please PM me! Thank you!