Chapter 38: The cursed fortress
Qarth...
She was fiddling with her necklace out of nervousness while a healer from Qarth was trying to figure out what happened to Arthur and Aurane Waters. They found them lying unconscious and wonder below the docks of the ship, without any trails of what happened, and were brought immediately to Xaro Xan Daxos' place.
In addition to their condition, Daenerys wanted to find answers as to where her dragon Syrax has gone or who kidnaped her since there was no sign of her.
"So, healer? Can you heal him?"
"I'm afraid not, Princess. Their end approaches, and it will be an arduous, slow and painful path until death will claim them."
"Then we no longer need you," she said, dismissing the man, and leaving the room immediately, with clenched fists, with Imran right behind her. "I want answers, Imran. And there may be only one man who can provide them. Never leave my side."
"No. Never," he replied, smiling with the hand on his sword, as they resumed their walk towards Xaro Don Daxos' solar if he was there.
The tall man from the Sumer Isles, who came to Qarth, was standing near his desk, with hand resting on the sword and a smirk on his face, waiting for the girl to reply. He didn't have the chance to speak with the man about a future alliance between them and Qarth against the Targaryen, but he was sure that if the proposals are favourable to him, Xaro don Daxos will accept.
The Targaryen girl, Daenerys, on the other hand, was patching back and forth in the room, trying to find the words to convince the man to summon a meeting of those who were suspected of taking her dragon, but of which only one was actually at fault.
But Xaro's proposal took them both by surprise, never expecting for him to ask her hand in marriage. But judging by her reaction, she really wasn't that surprised by the demand, and he wondered if she already knew that he wanted this.
"So, you are telling me that if I accept to marry you," the girl said, stopping, from the patching "you will tell me where my dragon is?"
"Yes, Princess. That is the only thing I ask you in exchange. To make this humble man in front of you the happiest of this world," Xaro replied, with a hand on the heart, but he knew he had more hidden intentions.
"Have you forgot that I'm already married to someone else?"
"No. And it is for that reason that I must now, with great regret, inform you of his premature death at the Wall by the hands of Giants."
"What?!"
"Who told you this?" he asked, approaching the two and exchanging a look with the girl. It would be perfect news if it were true. Without the pillar that holds them in place, the Valyrians would fall again into oblivion, and this time forever.
"Very reliable sources that are unlikely to be wrong."
"Deal. I will marry you, and you will give me the richness that is behind that impenetrable door. But first, my dragon."
"Of course, Princess, but I ask you to sign this little parchment," the man said, showing with the hands the piece of paper. The girl approached, taking the pen, and making a sign on it. "Good. Now that this is settled, I will lead you to those who know where the dragon is." They left Xaro Don Daxos palace, and he wanted to plow how easy it is to fool these Targaryens with false words of honour, goodness, and loyalty.
The thirteens were gathered in their hall, as Daenerys Targaryen was standing in front of them, with pleading eyes, while, Xaro Don Daxos was standing behind her, where he was too, but Grazdan didn't miss the glance he exchanged with the warlock, Pyat Pree.
"How dare you came to our city, and calls us thief because your dragon flow away," the King of Spices said, and oaf man, full of himself but rich enough to have a powerful fleet.
"Tales say that one of you have taken her. That one of you attacks my ship and my men."
"So not only you are saying we are thieves, but you are also accusing us of attacking your wreck," the man said, offended.
"No one is accusing you, King of Spices. The Princess only speaks of tales she heard."
"And do tell me Xaro Don Daxos, from whom this little brat heard the tales?"
"Me of course."
"Did you dared to spread lies about us?!" the King of Spices, shouted, hitting his fist on the table.
"I never said you were thieves, just that you know who took her dragon," Xaro said, expressionless.
"Of course, we know where your dragon is," Pyat said before the King of Spices could even start to speak, and everyone turned towards the warlock. Well, almost everyone, since he knew they had the dragon, but it was funny to see the Targaryen girl so restless because of this situation.
"Where is my dragon?" the girl asked, with clenched teeth.
"In the House of Undying, mother of Dragons. He is waiting for you to join him," Pyat, said, before turning to the thirteen. "From now on, we no longer need your support." And warlocks appeared behind them, killing the council.
Turning to the Girl the warlock said, "Come to the House of the undying when the moon is high in the sky and you will have your dragon."
With that, he disappeared, leaving only the three of them in there, as he exchanged a look with Xaro Don Daxos, who was grinning.
Once back, and still shocked by what happened in the hall and by the death of the thirteen, she went to their rooms, that she was sharing with her mother, to put in motion the plan they made to save Shiera and now the dragon.
Inside, she saw her getting ready. Her hair braided, the light armour on, and the sword at her hips. Beside her, the Old Knight was standing on guard with the hand on the sword, but when he saw her, Barristan said, "I will wait outside."
Now that they were alone, she said, "The warlock took her, mother. Pyat Pree asked me to go to the House of Undying when the moon is high in the sky. But we both know the true reason behind."
"Yes, we do. And you won't go alone," her mother said, approaching. Placing her hand on her cheek, she added, "I will come with you. While the others will take down this city. Balaq is coming with the ship that are in open sea."
And Daenerys nodded, looking down, and taking a breath, she said, "Xaro Don Daxos told me that Aenar and his dragon fell at the Wall, by the hands of giants. Do you think is true?"
Her mother did not answer, walking away as Daenerys looked up to follow her movement. She paused at the cloakroom, pulling out some clothes, before returning to her, having removed her sword from her hips.
"Mother?" she said again, receiving no reply, as her mother, untied the Qartheen dress she was wearing, leaving Daenerys naked at the sight of the chilling breeze blowing through the sea that was passing the three circles of walls, and through the open balcony.
Her mother moved away again, to take the clothes and start to dress her up. She wanted to protest, say that there was no need to help her dress up, but her mother's silence was almost as intimidatory as the jaws of a dragon in front of a lamb.
Once she was ready, her mother, moved away again, but this time towards the chest where her sword was being sheltered, and taking out, she turned towards her, approaching slowly, "Lies they are spreading to make us doubt." Tying it to her hips, her mother added, "He is alive. I can feel it in my heart." She said, placing her hand on her chest, before placing it on hers too. "And so, can you."
Daenerys nodded, as her mother tied her hairs, and smiling, said, "Now daughter, it's time to plot the fall of this city and free our family."
Iron islands …
The night was dark and stormy, as the waves were crashing against the cliffs of Pyke. A normal thing on the Iron Islands which was only feeding the anger he was feeling inside towards the usurper Robert Baratheon, Ned Stark, and Tywin Lannister. They were the ones who almost extinguished his House by killing his sons and taking one as a hostage.
Now only his daughter remained. Asha. And she was indeed the perfect heir for him now. "A wonderful night, isn't it, father?" said his daughter as she entered, with a sneer on her lips. She must have just bedded her lover, that he forgot the name.
"You are late."
"Was busy. Beg your pardon, father."
"Enough with the talk. We have more important things to discuss than your late," he said, dismissing whatever she had to say. "I have heard a word from Essos that your Uncle Euron is dead, which is a good thing, but as you may already hear, war has broken out in Westeros and we must benefit from it."
"I'm all ears," she replied, smiling, leaning against the table.
"As a first target I would say we attack the Riverlands, but your uncle Victarion will take care of that," he said, placing a Kraken on the Riverlands. "You, on the other hand, will have to go North, sneak into Winterfell and bring your brother Theon back here."
"It won't be an easy task, father."
"It will. The armies are at the Wall right now. It will be easy to sneak in. And if you can kill some wolves in the meantime, do it."
"As you command, father."
Turning back towards the storm that was raging outside, he said, proudly, "The Kraken shall arise again from the abyss where the stag and the wolf sent him. No one can stop us now."
Riverlands ...
The cold northern winds were blowing over the Riverlands, as he was splitting wood for the coming winter, although he did not know if he would be able to see it because of the coming war.
When he stopped to rest a bit, he heard the neighing of horses, and grabbing the axe again, he looked in the direction from where the noises came, seeing a dozen of riders approach them, one of which, as he could spot, was wearing a red cloak.
With axe in hand, he stood up, moving a few steps away from the place where he was sitting at the entrance of the house, and once they were near, he recognized one of them as the Red Priest who brought him back to life.
"Good day, my friend," the Red Priest greeted him, getting down from the horse and so di the hooded woman that was with him, while the others stayed on their horses.
"What brought you here? Have you forgotten that a war is coming?" he asked, while the red Priest, taking a sip from his started to approach, smiling. "War is inevitable for everyone."
He didn't reply, as his eyes drifted to the hooded person, who started to approach him too, as Thoros was looking at her. When the hood was lowered, he finally saw who it was under it. A woman. A very beautiful woman with long hair the colour of deep burnished copper, unsettling red eyes, and pale, unblemished skin. She was tall and graceful, of slender waist but he clearly could spot the full bosom, which for sure didn't go unnoticed by men.
"Valar morghūlis, zaldrīzes āeksio," she said in a deep voice, but melodic, bowing her head, and strangely he understood her words.
"I'm not a dragonlord, my lady. Just a commoner without memory."
"Have fate in the Lord of light and he will show you the light through the darkness," the woman replied.
"Yes, yes, your lord of light, the Seven, the Old Gods the drawing god, and yet no one seemed to want to give me back my memories during the past fifteen years and more," he replied, putting the axe down and saying to his friend and the woman. "Come. I may not have much, but a shelter, some hot bread with poor wine I can offer."
"I heard you have had visitors recently," Thoros said, sitting down at the table, while the woman approached the fire hearth.
"Yes. A young man who was seeking shelter from the rain and a dark night," he replied, filling three cups with wine.
"What did he look like?"
"What my lady?" he looked at her with confusion, who from her side was gazing in the fire.
"The boy. What did he look like?"
"Young, with a beard and long dark curly hairs. He was wearing an armour with a twisted dragon if I remember correctly while at his hip there was hanging a sword with the handle having shapes of two dragons."
"Do tell me, Ser. Seeing him brought up old memories?" the Red Priestess asked, approaching their host, who was looking at her with confusion, replying, "Should I had?"
But Melisandre didn't reply moving away, in silence as he exchanged a look with his friend, who in the meantime leaned against the table, with crossed arms. Finishing his coup, he said, "We are here to fulfill our lord's will."
"Don't care about your lord's will."
"Doesn't matter," Thoros replied, getting up and heading to the door, opening it, and waving to the men to bring in the chests with the gift for his friend.
A few moments later they brought it in and placed them on the wooden floor, and his friend, asked, "What is this?"
"A gift. Open it?" replied Thoros, with hands on the belt that was holding his sword, and his friend, sighing approached the first one, opening the chest, and pulling out a helmet. "What am I supposed to do with this thing?"
"Wear it of course," Thoros replied, approaching the other two and opening them. "You see. When I found you laying dying in the river, you were wearing this armour, broken."
"I don't want it."
"I know. But the lord of Light chose you to prepare the path for the Prince that was promised." Thoros replied, filling his cup again, and sitting on the table with one thigh.
"Who is the lucky one that I need to kill?" his friend replied, crossing his arms, and Thoros laughed to himself, knowing perfectly that this opportunity would have eventually piqued his interest.
"And King Harren learned that thick walls and high towers are small use against dragons. For dragons fly," his uncle Tyrion said when they stopped on a hill to look at the cursed fortress in the distance, as the army keep marching. They made bend the knee to Maidenpool, Darry, and all the small House on the borders with the Vale, and now only this one remains on the eastern side.
"Well, the dragons are gone, uncle and now you are the Lord of the biggest fortress in Westeros."
"Biggest yes, but a cursed one," his uncle said, and Orys laughed at him.
"I thought you were not one to believe in curses, uncle."
"I didn't pay attention till now. But all the lords who lived her died horribly, dear nephew."
He said nothing on that, urging his horse forward, followed by his uncle and the Hound right behind. Outside the city, he saw a host of men on horseback and foot waiting for them, with a light wind waving their banners of nine black bats, on a yellow field.
His men stopped and got in line immediately, as he rode to the front of it, with the wind waving his golden cape. If they wanted to fight, it was clearly a bad move on Lady Whent's part to deploy those few men outside the walls.
Rising up his hammer, and as he was ready to give the orders for battle, Orys saw a rider with a white banner and one with the House banner, riding towards him.
"Greetings, Prince Orys. My name is Ser Willis Wode, captain of the Houseguard of Harrhenal. I'm here on behalf of Lady Whent to discuss our terms of surrender."
"The terms are simple, Ser Willis. Bend the knee to the Iron Throne, let us, and surrender the castle to us. Lord Tyrion of Lannister was appointed by King Robert as new Lord of Harrhenal."
The two men looked at each other for a moment, before Ser Willis replied, "What of Lady Whent?"
"She can stay if she wants. Or she can leave," came her uncle's reply to the knight, as he approached them. "We have nothing with her."
"I will confer with Lady Whent and will inform you before dusk came."
"With all respect, Ser, but there is nothing to confer. Or you surrender peacefully, or we take it with the force," he said, showing with his hammer the army that was backing him, who started to bang their shield, and the horses stirring.
The knight didn't reply but nodded to the one holding House Whent's banner, who rode a few steps away and started to wave it in the air. Turning to him, Ser Willis said, "Harrhenal is your Lord Tyrion and Prince Orys."
He exchanges a look with his uncle, before urging his horse and his men forward, slowly marching towards Harrhenal who opened the gates in the distance.
The more he approached this immense fortress with melted stone, the more he couldn't stay in his skin. He feels as if his guts were coming out. As if his blood was boiling wanting to come out. As if the cures of Harrhenal were true, despite not believing in such a thing. But by the Seven, its instilled terror.
Once passed the main gates, Orys saw Lords and ladies, knights and peasants gathered in the courtyard, and getting down from the horse, approached them, with hammer on the shoulder and a serious express, almost intimidatory.
As soon as he was in front of them, everyone bends the knee, and an old lady, that he presumes was Lady Whent by the embroidered clothes in Whent colour she was wearing, said, in a high but old voice, "Welcome to Harrhenal, Prince Orys. The Castle is yours."
"Thank you, Lady Whent. You may get up," and all of them did, before Orys, turning, said loudly, "From now on, my uncle, Tyrion of House Lannister, will be your new Lord of Harrhenal. Greet your new liege!" and the people, after a few heartbeats in silence, cheered, even if unpleased, to their new lord.
"If it pleases you, we will throw a feast tonight, for your arrival and your appointment as new liege, Lord Tyrion, and for your obviously, Prince Orys."
"Thank you, Lady Whent. It will please us very much," his uncle replied, politely, smiling and taking of his gloves, before glancing at him, "and I'm sure the men will like too some joyfulness."
They drank, ate, danced, and laughed their way through the main part of the feast. He also challenged a few young soldiers, squires, and knights to arm wrestling to see who would win, and of course, it was him the one. But that feeling of dread he felt staying in this fortress would not go away.
"This castle has an ill repute, and one that's well deserved. It's said that Harren and his sons still walk the halls by night, afire. Those who look upon them burst into flame," his uncle started before taking a sip. "Have you witnessed such a thing, my lady?"
For as long as I can remember, I have not seen spirits, wights, and revenants in my life here, but I have nevertheless prayed to the Seven to protect me from them."
"And did they succeed?"
"You tell me, Ser. I am almost the last of my House. I have lost sons and daughters. A husband, brothers, and cousins. If you're asking if anyone who lives here will see their lineage end, then yes."
Hearing those words sent a shiver through his body and made him even shift in his seat, while his uncle, spinning his finger over the edge of the goblet, said, "Then you believe the curse to be true."
"Yes, I do. But let me give you some advice. Pray to the old gods if you want, but wear a suit of mail and plate as well."
"I will take it gladly," his uncle said, raising his goblet, in a toast, and drinking all the content.
"Some more wine, Prince Orys?" he heard a girl ask, and he looked at her. She was a pretty girl, older than him, but pretty. With a beautiful smile and long brown hair. But what cough his eyes was the big bosom she was exposing, and grinning, rose his goblet, as she filled it, glancing in the meantime at him, and smiling.
Once finished, the girl moved away, as he looked at her backside, and heard Lady Whent say, "Her name is Pia. She is a cheerful, sweet, and simple girl, who lived with us since she was a new-born."
He said, nothing, feeling his cock stir in his breaches, at the naughty thought he was having, and bringing the goblet to his lips, Orys took a sip. Maybe this fortress isn't so cursed as he thought before.
The Wall...
The sun was setting on the horizon while the cooling air coming from the land of the Others was caressing his skin, but even if his body was here, his mind was in a whole different place. Beyond the Narrow Sea, miles, and miles away through the lands of Essos. In Qarth where his heart was. His wife and lover. Daenerys and Rhaella on a suicidal mission like he was here.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" he heard his uncle say, breaking his thought and approaching him.
"Yes. One day I hope to see it with my wives," he replied, returning his gaze to the dusk, as the sun was coming down and giving a redness to the sky in the distance. "If the Wall will still be standing, of course."
Leaning against the edge too, next to him, his uncle, sighing, said, "You know, when Robb told me what you have done, I was very disappointed. Bedding your aunt was on things since in House Stark there were some kind precedents like that. But your grandmother? That was madness, I thought when I first heard about it and I really thought you were like your grandfather-"
"Maybe I am, uncle," he replied with seriousness, though, it was mean as a half-joke, which his uncle didn't find funny.
"But I would say who I am to judge your choosing in the matter of hearts. After all, we don't choose with whom to fall in love."
"Leave that past behind, uncle. Just like she did," he said, knowing to whom his uncle was referring, and in truth, he didn't want to speak about it.
"How is she?"
"Happy, healthy, and a good mother."
"Dose…Dose she had children?"
"No. But I hope she will soon because she is an excellent mother," he replied, turning fully towards his uncle, who was gazing down the wall, lostly. "If you are thinking that for you two there is future, you are wrong, Lord Eddard. You lost that chance long time ago. You married your brother's betrothed betraying Ashara."
"I had to."
"Yes. For their help to bring down my father's House."
"You weren't there. You don't know how things were," his uncle replied, clenching his chin, and crossing his arms, as his smirking said, "No. I wasn't there but there are people who were there. And who were at King's Landing too, when the butchered bodies of my innocent brother and sister, of Elia Martell, were laid at the foot of the Iron Throne before the Usurper." Feeling anger arise, and a roar came from the distance.
"I had no part in that."
"No, you didn't. But you still bend the knee to that monster. Still called him friend, and still fought for him," Aenar replied, raising his voice and approaching him, as Caraxes landed on top of the wall."
"Aenar-"
"You even wanted for my mother to marry that monster before everything happened!" he shouted as his uncle was baking in fear, and Aenar could feel hotness behind him, and that meant only one thing. Caraxes was ready to spill fire.
Turning to his dragon, he shouted his name, "Caraxes!" and seeing the dragon close his jaws and rise in the sky flying south. Taking longs breaths, to calm himself because of the lost temper, and turning to his uncle, he said, "I'm sorry. He feels what I feel and he thought you are danger right now."
"What happened?"
"Nothing of your concern, uncle. Just some sides effects of what happened in Valyria," he replied, starting to head towards the cage that will bring them down, and his uncle followed him right behind.
"Does she has someone?"
"Yes. A norther, Thorren Snow," he replied, as the cage was moving slowly down. "Why did you come up? Did you need to talk to me?"
"Yes. Maester Aemon healed the men who are wounded, so I thought you wanted to speak with them."
"Thank you. What did you do with the girl and the child?"
"Nothing. They are locked in a room and the Lord Commander sent word to Mole's Town asking for a wetnurse."
"Good. I will speak with them tomorrow. Now I need to rest," Aenar replied, once they reached the bottom, and as the cage door opened. "The Dragon will fly on his own, and hunt, but I want your most trusted men on the top near the ballistas and catapults." Leaving.
Beyond the wall...
They were walking through a forest, covered with snow all around. The old man that had trained him to travel between times, had told him, that nothing her was real, and no one will be able to see them. No one besides the Night's King. The great Other's fearsome general. But the coldness despite the illusion could really be felt. He would lie if he says that he wasn't afraid on this regard.
During these times he had visited his family through the webs of the Weirwoods trees. He saw how much his mother was missing him, and he was missing her too. He wanted to go back home. To see his brothers and sisters again. To
"We are here, Brandon," said the old three-eyed raven. As they stopped, Bran was amazed by what he was seeing. There was a line on the ground that divided what looked like to be a forest. He remembered some stories told by Old Nan regarding a "forest within a forest", harbouring a great power inside it. He wondered if this was the one but didn't have the courage to give voice to these questions.
"It is indeed a "forest within a forest", Brandon," the old man said, glancing down at him, and placing his hand on Bran's back, added. "This place bore the name of North Grove."
"What is it?"
"It's where he is heading, and you need to stop him from getting that formidable weapon that will bring the winter's wrath to our world and that will bring the endless night."
His heart started to hammer in his chest, at hearing these words, wondering what could it be, when suddenly he heard the roar of a dragon, and as his breathing increased. Looking up, he saw a white shadow fly towards them, when suddenly everything around him started to move fast, showing different visions, till it stopped on a precise one.
It was the entrance of a cave, and in front of it, there was a group of children of the forest, chanting words in a language he couldn't understand, but suddenly he saw blue eyes from the inside and a cold breath came out, as everything around him started to move fast again, till reaching a point where he found himself alone in a snowed land. The sky was dark, and the wind was heavy and cold.
Suddenly he found himself being grabbed and drown across the snow as he was loudly screaming, trying to free himself until he woke up gasping from the vision.
"Brandon. What happened?" he heard Lord Reed, bend near him, and lifting up a bid, as a man brought him some water.
"He touched you, didn't he?" asked the three-eyed raven, and he nodded, trying to regain his normal breath, and swallowing, feeling the cold air of the cave chill his lungs.
"What does it mean?" asked the Crannogman.
"That we don't have time. Hurry up, Brandon. I need to teach you everything I know," the old man in the tree replied, and Brandon grabbed one of the trees to return back in the visions.
Gather everything you need and leave the excess weight," Howland said as his men prepared. It had now been several hours since Brandon returned to the visions, and Brynden rivers warning about having little time still haunted him.
"No matter how fast you are, there is no escape from what is coming," Leaf said, approaching him.
"You know what he wants, don't you?"
"Yes. And I fear he already has it and is coming here to take-" the child of the forest stopped as soon as the cave started to shake.
He immediately got up, running towards the entrance of the cave, and once outside, under the night sky, he saw an army. An army of undead and in front of them there were what looked like what to be white shadows with blue eyes.
"Fuck!" he cursed, running back inside to warn his men and wake up Brandon. They will need to defend and run at the same time, something impossible against supernatural creatures.
"Men! To arms! The dead are here. And everyone draws their sword, as he bends to the boy, shaking him and calling. "Brandon! Wake up! Wake up, Brandon."
Scratching from the above could be heard, and temperatures descended rapidly, and coldness that could be feel made their lungs almost froze in place, as a white shadow appeared, holding an Ice Spear.
"Everyone. Out!" he shouted, picking Brandon up and starting to run in the other direction with some men who tried to cover their retreat.
Death and destruction. That was all he could see as he was walking through what looked like a destroyed village, with bodies on the ground. Night's Watch men, Stark men, Wildlings, and even some giants. All dead. Looking behind, he could see the shores being frozen and that stretched for some miles towards the open sea.
A foggy ice rose up and started to engulf all around him, and a figure in the distance started to approach him slowly. He recognized it immediately, the moment the fog around the figure disappeared, it was the crowned man-made of Ice. The King of the White Walkers.
"I iksin umbagon syt ao," the crowned king said, raising his arms, as a bigger shadow in the fog appeared, and he could spread some wings. (I am waiting for you.)
The King rose his hands and ice spike came out of the ground heading in his direction. He started to run towards the shore and the frozen water, but could not reach in time as he felt his body being pierced by thousands of cold spikes. Blood started to come of his mouth but froze in the way.
The ice-crowned king rounded his pierced body, with sealed lips almost as if they were frozen, and the seriousness on his face. Pulling out a curved dagger made of ice, and grabbing his neck, the crowned Wight Walker started to open his chest.
He woke up with a loud scream, panting. The chemise he was wearing was dried of sweet and his hairs were too. Getting down from the bed, he tried to take deep breaths and started to wonder if these damn nightmares are going to stop one day or will haunt him till the last of his day.
Looking towards the fireplace, he saw that the fire was already dead, and the room was starting to get cold. It means that morning was coming, and knowing that sleep will no longer claim him, he decides to dress and leave the room.
Once outside, stroking his hands because of the coldness, and after breathing some hot breath, tightening the cape, he started to head towards the courtyard and the southern walls. He needs to see where his dragon was, before heading to the top of the wall.
On the way, he came face to face with his cousin, who smiling, said, "I see that you too could not sleep."
"Bad dreams are my excuse. What is yours?"
"You know very well what is mine," Robb replied as they were walking and he really didn't want to start about that again, but his cousin wasn't someone to let it go, and as they down the stairs asked, "She is pregnant, isn't she?"
Aenar keeps walking in silence for a moment, before sighing, replied, "Robb, Robb. Why are you making me break a promise."
"I knew it!" his cousins said, eagerly laughing.
"I told you nothing is she will ask," he said with raised hands and shaking his head.
"Yes, yes, yes…But a child. Soon I'm going to be a father."
"Don't jump so quickly to that Robb. There are still a lot of moons till then and who knows what is going to happen in the meantime."
"I know," his cousin replied, bitterly, as they were crossing the courtyard.
"Changing subject. You need to decide what to do with the wildings that are beyond the wall. If they stay, there they are dead and meat for the White Walkers."
"I know. In fact, I'm going to talk with Mance Rayder and then sail from East Watch. There are already some ships waiting there."
"Why you just don't fly beyond the wall, find them on your own and maybe burn some White Walkers on the way."
"Because I can't. The wall doesn't let Caraxes fly beyond," he replied, stopping, and stroking his chin. "I tried at East-Watch and I tried here. But couldn't fly beyond."
"So is with ships that we will sail," Robb said, and Aenar nodded, resuming his walk, only to stop when Caraxes landed in the courtyard, making the ground shake for a moment, and them fall down. "Damn! Why does he always do this?"
He smiled, helping his cousin up, before approaching his dragon, who bend down his head to receive a gentle stroke as a good boy he was. He always liked this kind of touch since he came to life in the Red Temple of Volantis.
"He is getting big," his cousin said
"Yes. But not big enough to fight a true challenge," Aenar replied, moving away and seeing Maester Aemon walk climb down the stairs too, helped by one of his stewards, and he immediately rushed towards the old Maester.
"Maester Aemon. Now that the battle is won, would you like to meet another member of House Targaryen?"
"It would be my greatest pleasure, your grace," the old man said, with a light smile on his lips, as he helped his great-great-great-uncle to walk towards the dragon, who was standing imposingly and looking intimidatory at them. He stopped a few steps away to wait for Caraxes to make the move because as he learned, a dragon is not a slave. You cannot make him do or like something he doesn't want or like. And Caraxes has his own temper on this regard.
Aemon from his part, stretched the hand up, despite seeing nothing, and with a hammering heart, Aenar looked at his dragon, who hesitated for a moment, releasing smoke from his nose, and puffing out his chest. But in the end, he leaned, bending his head only a few inches from the old man's hand.
When the dragon touched Maester Aemon's hand, Aenar could see tears stream down his cheek as he was caressing Caraxes' snout.
"Oh, my dear boy. You made this old frozen dragon feel great joy in the end before the stranger could claim his soul," the old man said, between tears, with a broken but joyful voice, withdrawing his hand, and Aenar asked, "Would you like to fly uncle?"
"I would, very much, but for that, I should be much young my boy," the Old man said, sadly, and Aenar didn't insist because he didn't want to hurt him if he insisted.
Hours later…
The King Beyond the Wall, who bore the name of Mance Raider was standing in front of the great table, in chains, and stripped of what he had when he was captured, with his wife, a young girl called Dalla, their new-born child, and the sister of her, Val.
Taking a long sip of ale, he said, "Mance Raider. For breaking your oaths to the Watch, for siding with the enemy, I Aenar, of House Targaryen, rightful King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First men, sentence you to death," as the Night's Watch men, and lords of the north were banging the fists on the table and cheering for it, but he raised his hands to stop them. "However, you have a chance to make amends for your actions, by revealing where the Wildlings had gone."
"So that you can burn them with your dragon? Never!"
"You know as much as I do that whoever is beyond the Wall is meat for the army of the deaths," he said, feeling his skin only by mentioning such a thing.
"Then let them settle in your seven Kingdoms," Mace Rayder replied, definingly. "After all, isn't that how your ancestors did. By migrations and conquest. Fire and Blood are your words if I remember correctly. Ice and steel are ours. We follow the Old Way."
Getting up, with furrowed eyebrows and resting fist on the table, he said, intimidatory, "Then it's by the old way, that you shall fall," rounding the table, he moved to stand in front of the man, who was a few feet taller than him, and after a few moments of staring in the eyes, he said, "But isn't their survivor more important that the pried you are showing now."
"Pride you said? Fuck the pried. This is about respect. If I do what you asked, my people will first skin me alive, then will kill me slowly."
"Then their death is sealed," he replied, before looking at the Lord commander Jeor Mormont, nodding, and the Night's Watch took Mance Ryder outside.
Taking a long breath of cold air, he went outside too, and ready to execute the man. Pulling Blackfyre out, he glanced at his uncle once, seeing no expression on his face, and when he was ready rose the sword up to give the blow, but before the blade could make contact with his neck, Aenar hears a woman scream, "Hardhome!" and looking at the gathered crows, he saw Dalla make her way through them with the baby in arms. "Mother Mole leads thousands of FreeFolke to Hardhome. She dreamed that help would come from the sea.
After hearing this, Aenar looked at his uncle, and then at the Lord Commander, who both nodded. So, turning his attention to Mance Rayder, he said, "You will take us to Hardhome, there is no room of opposition in this, Or I will kill her and your son."
"I will," he replied, sadly, as the men took him away, and his uncle approaching him, said, "Killing innocent women and children isn't honourable. I thought the Sword of the Morning tough you."
"I'm not going to kill them, uncle," he replied, "you leave in two hours. I will fly to East Watch and wait for you there." With those last words, he went to his dragon, and climbing on, he rose in the sky flying away.