Beginning of war
The ruins of Osgiliath, the night between 19 and 20 June, T.A 3018:
At first glance, it seemed like both Boromir and Faramir were sleeping peacefully in their bedrolls while some of the men were having the night shift as guards. But when looking closer, it would be obvious that neither brother was sleeping that well. Normally none of them were restless in sleep, yet now something like that happened.
"The Sword that was broken?" Boromir muttered for himself when he finally woke up, wondering what sort of dream this was. He was used to Faramir having odd dreams at times, especially since his brother in their younger years would dream about the Downfall of Númenor.
"You had that dream too, brother?"
Faramir was sitting up in his bedroll, looking at his older brother, then spoke the words that Boromir had heard in his dream:
Seek for the Sword that was broken:
In Imladris it dwells;
There shall be counsels taken
Stronger than Morgul-spells.
There shall be shown a token
That Doom is near at hand,
For Isildur's Bane shall waken,
And the Halfling forth shall stand.
For a reason he could not explain, Boromir felt unease over that both he and Faramir had this dream. It felt like a bad omen of the war that everyone expected to happen soon. And Isildur's Bane, a name on the One Ring that Sauron had crafted to rule over the Free Peoples of Middle-earth.
"And the Sword that was broken...what in the name of the Valar does the broken sword Narsil, used by King Elendil in the Battle of Dagorlad before Sauron killed him, have to do with that dream? If there are still descendants of Princess Fíriel among the Chieftains of the Dúnedain somewhere in the north, then why have none of them come before to claim the crown of Gondor? It is not like her two brothers left any children behind, right?"
Faramir smiled a tired smile over the question, happy to once again help Boromir with the exact details.
"By the Law of Númenor, she could have been the first Ruling Queen of Gondor with both her two older and unwed brothers dead, yes. And her husband, Prince Arvedui of Arnor, referred to this ancient law, as well as the fact that he too was a direct descendant of Isildur, as a claim to the crown. But the Council of Gondor, persuaded by the Steward Pelendur, voted against Arvedui's claim in favour of King Eärnil II, who was a distant relative to his predecessor."
His older brother looked like he used after the history lessons in their childhood, like all this information was giving him a headache. It was not that Boromir disliked Faramir being more of a scholar, he simply was more drawn to being a warrior.
"Ugh, polities! And I know that Father would not be happy if such a descendant showed up now, after that Gondor has survived nearly a thousand years without a King and he wants me to take over after him."
Taking a sip of water from his waterskin next to the bedroll, Boromir chose to change the subject:
"When will you tell Father that you have undergone an unofficial betrothal to Éowyn of Rohan through the use of handfasting as they do in our allied country?"
Faramir looked a little concerned at the reminder of what he had done at the wedding between their cousin Lothíriel and Éomer less than two months ago, but not ashamed over his choice of future wife.
"You know as well as I, that Father has never accepted the plain truth that I am more likely to get married and father offspring than you, brother dearest. Also, a lady from Rohan, even if she is from their royal family, the House of Eorl and her own maternal grandmother being a Princess of a side branch from the House of Dol Amroth? He is going to rant about how spouses without Númenorian blood is the reason behind the lowered lifespan of the nobility here in Gondor already, and that we, the Stewards of the House of Húrin, can not join them…"
Suddenly the night around them was not so quiet anymore. Something felt wrong when the brothers looked around, as if there was a tension in the air about to snap. Then a shrill cry in the night air confirmed their quickly growing fears.
"Nazgûl!"
Mordor was attacking. By the enemy army of orcs and other monsters in the service of Sauron using the nighttime in the remaining hours before dawn, the garrison under their command was taken by surprise.
~X~X~X~X~X~X
In Edoras, Aegon awoke with a bolt from the nightmare he just had. Another one that seemed to tell events of the future, and this one was just plain terrifying in what he had seen. Taking deep gasps to calm down his beating heart, the oldest son of Elia hugged a small amulet that in the times of long gone Kemet were known as ankh, a key of life.
"Dragonstone getting a volcanic eruption and some form of unbelievable hot fire reducing several of the important castles in Westeros to ashes?"
The ruins of Harrendal had fallen in the fire, the Eyrie had basically explored into dust, the massive stone hill with Casterly Rock turning into a hill that was almost laughable small compared to its previous height, a piece of the famed Wall in the North had gotten a massive hole as the fire went on even further north.
"That Storm's End and King's Landing was protected by a massive storm...could it be that this attack could trigger the past lives of the Baratheon children?"
By now, Mara had explained to her Martell descendants that some of her past-life siblings from Kemet had been reborn among the younger Baratheon generation and Brienne of Tarth, and given that House Durrandon was mortal descendants of Elenei, the daughter of the sea god and the goddess of the wind, it would not seem too weird to suggest that House Baratheon could have inherited dormant abilities to control winds from Argella Durrandon when she married Orys Baratheon.
"I only hope that this will not happen too soon...if Sauron somehow finds a way to Westeros without the portals…"
The very idea was a nightmare in itself, because for the Seven Kingdoms Sauron would be a threat no one knew how to handle. As a Maia, even a fallen one because he had joined the first dark Lord Morgoth in a time long before the current era, Sauron would be a being none in Westeros had seen before.
At the same time, in the Temple of Shadows:
A major change of her body had happened only a month ago. Visenya had woken up to find a thin trail of blood on her thighs. As the Consorts and female healers had explained what this meant, she was now to join their ranks formally as the successor of Isret, who had passed away from high age not long ago.
"I am here, Master."
Just like her fellow Consorts when they underwent the closest thing to a wedding ceremony, she wore the clothing style of Kemet with a white linen dress and gold jewelry. If any of the former Targaryen loyalists had seen Visenya in this moment, the illegitimate daughter of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark was a almost perfect ghost image of her paternal grandmother Rhaella as a similarity awfully young bride dressed in white and gold on the day she and Aerys was forced to marry each other by their own parents, siblings Jaehaerys II and Shaera Targaryen.
"You seem oddly pleased to become a bride of darkness, girl."
Where Khamûl stood between two large fires in the middle of the peristyle courtyard, nothing had changed about his appearance outside that he actually had donned his rarely-used gold mask so Visenya could see something under the black hood.
"Between this and the life as a royal princess where I would have been forced to marry my own half-brother and half-sister because my idiotic father insisted on naming us after the founding trio of his family line, I perfer this life as Your Consort where I can remain untouched by a man and will never have to worry about dying in childbirth, Master."
In a sudden act of boldness, she took the golden goblet herself from the table instead of waiting for him to hand her it, even smirking at the former Farao with the rim close to her lips.
"Just drink the portion that will put an end to your ability to carry children and the red river of womanhood that is your fertility, girl. My own Master in Mordor is calling me for a mission, and I do not want to waste time."
Whatever it was in the portion, Visenya did not know. But if the loss of her fertility was the cost to become a Consort, then she was willing to take it. She had seen enough visions of Rhaenys and Aegon over the years to know that whatever dumb daydreams of a "happy married sibling trio" that Rhaegar had imagined in his head, it would never have worked between them. This was her own revenge on that idiotic reason for her to be born in the first place.
"The reborn conqueror trio only existed in your daydreams…you imbecile Silver Prince who sired me outside your legal marriage."
Taking a deep breath, Visenya emptied the goblet in one go as a final spitefulness against Rhaegar and what he had planned for her and her two older half-siblings without even thinking of that they were living persons with their own personalities and thoughts, not some pieces of a game to be used as he pleased. It tasted horrible, and between the stabbing pains coming from her stomach area now as she almost knelt from the pain, she could see how Khamûl raised his gauntleted hand against her forehead.
"From this night, a new Consort has risen among those who are chosen. This temple of darkness is both your home and tomb. No mortal man shall touch you, no child shall ever grow inside you. Your magic is mine to use as I desire, and your life is mine to use."
Despite the pain as Khamûl effectively branded her as his by magic so she now had a crook and flail crossing each other on her forehead, Visenya opened her eyes. Looking in the distance, she smiled a creepy smile that would have freaked out anyone who had seen Aerys in his cruel madness.
"Let me see how well you will do in the same role as you played prior to my birth, uncle Eddard...but with your own sweet daughters as the ones vanishing all suddenly and needing to be found by you."
Visenya did not have the gift of foresight, but she did not doubt the feeling that soon, House Stark would see history repeat itself in some manner. And because she remembered the sight of how he had called her original, stillborn body for a monster because of the dragon-like birth defects, she now desired to witness her maternal uncle have a taste of how his firm belief in honor would not always stop dangers from finding his family.
"Do not use any magic by yourself before I return. You are familiar with what happens if someone...disobeys my rules here in the Temple."
As Khamûl mounted the black horse, he took off the golden mask and tossed it over to Visenya as a sign that the wedding ceremony to make her his newest Consort was over before riding off towards the West, vanishing into the night. Still, she made a point of kneeling in a deep prostration towards where her Master had ridden off, as a sign of respect.
~X~X~X~X~X~X
Back at Osgiliath, just before dawn:
Despite the efforts of the garrison even if it cost the lives of the soldiers, the eastern portion of Osgiliath had fallen. The orcs were not the only attackers alongside trolls, the Ring-wraiths rode around on black horses that had to be stolen from Rohan or possibly bred in the East by those who were allied to Mordor.
"Faramir! This way!"
Boromir could tell that the stone bridge was going to break soon, the structure had taken many hits during the defence that night and the lack of proper care for nearly 600 years together with the force of nature like strong autumn storms, now proved that the bridge was on its last legs.
"We will not get over in time….?!"
A massive stone, taken from one of the ruins and thrown from a catapult at one of the former market-places nearest the river, proved Faramir right as it landed in front of them. The force of the landing broke the bridge, and with the stone breaking apart under their feet, the brothers fell into the water with the remaining men under their command.
"Brother!"
Anduin was a massive river, proved by the fact that the now broken bridge had to be three kilometers in length in order to reach the banks on each side. Swimming over the river, even in calm weather and without heavy armour to become extra weight, was a difficult and dangerous task because of its strong currents.
"Swim to the western bank! Hurry!"
Arrows were being shot from the orcs standing on the eastern bank, and far too often they hit a target.
When they finally reached the western bank and pulled themselves out of the water, exhausted after the difficult swim and several hours of fighting against the enemies, Faramir could see that he and Boromir were joined by only two other survivors of this night.
"Father is not going to like this news when we come home…"
Boromir could only nod. Denethor would not blame them for losing Osgilliath, rather lament over the loss of good men and their holdings at the old capital, but if this was the start of a new war against the Dark Lord, then they had to be ready for more attacks from Mordor soon.
"Of course it is the dreaded Witch-King of Angmar that led this attack."
Thanks to Elia telling Faramir that House Martell had its origins in Kemet when the ancient kingdom fell but without the exact detail of their blood connection to its last Farao, the absence of any sand movements around them as a invisible attacker, told Faramir that Khamûl had not been here during the assault on Osgiliath. Which was likely the sole reason why the two brothers and the last two men was still alive, because it would be a huge triumph for Sauron if Denethor II had lost both his sons tonight and Gondor falling into chaos over who of his other relatives that would succeed the Steward in the middle of a war against Mordor, between the six sons born to the two older sisters of Denethor.
"As much as our paternal cousins are possible heirs after us two, I very much doubt that our aunts would be happy with that scenario."
Now they needed to return to Minas Tirith, and tell their father about this attack in person.
~X~X~X~X~X~X
Author note: The Battle of Dagorlad occurred in the year 3434 of the Second Age. It was fought between the army of the Last Alliance under Gil-galad and Elendil and an army of Orcs and other creatures loyal to Sauron. The battle took place on the great, treeless, open plain of Dagorlad outside Mordor.
Before the War of the Ring, there had been no King of Gondor for 969 years since the death of King Eärnur against the Witch-king of Angmar in 2050 T.A, himself the son of Eärnil II, so Boromir is right in saying it have been nearly a thousand years without a King
The ankh or key of life is an ancient Egyptian hieroglyphic symbol that was most commonly used in writing and in Egyptian art to represent the word for "life" and, by extension, as a symbol of life itself. The ankh has a cross shape but with a teardrop-shaped loop in place of an upper bar.
Yes, in this AU Elenei and Durran Godsgrief did exist as real characters because the world had more magic back in their lifetime, but they lived so long ago that they basically have faded into legend by the current time in Westeros
Since it is custom for brides to wear white at weddings in Westeros, I imagine that Rhaella and Visenya in her Kemet-based wedding clothes would look rather similar because they were married at roughly the same age
Can we just simply say that Visenya is holding some serious resentment towards her uncle Eddard Stark because thanks to her visions of the past, she witnessed how he basically doted upon Brandon's bastard Jon Snow as his own son by letting Jon live in Winterfell and how Eddard actively denies that she even existed because her Targaryen looks was proof of who her father was? She is also NOT impressed by his "honor-before-reason" mindset that actually blinds Eddard to the reality around him at times and how deeply he can underestimate dangerous people like Cersei in canon
Denethor II is mentioned to have two older sisters, so I think it is very possible that Boromir and Faramir likely have some paternal cousins that never show up in the texts of Tolkien. I chose to only mention them here indirectly as a sign of how they are not mentioned in canon, but that the Line of the Stewards likely have a couple of side branches from various sisters to the Stewards over the generations