Hey!

So, we're back in the North and it is time to get back on track. This chapter will be the first of four in preparation of the first battle.
I am not so happy with the beginning of it, but the end is pretty cool I think.
This story has over 700 favourites! Thank you so much! I know "me from last year" would not believe it x).

Enjoy!

Chapter XLIX: A thousand eyes and one

The Targaryens did not have much time to grieve. In the rush of their arrival and the death of Maester Aemon, they had not had time to enquire much about what he happened while they were in Essos. Not much of it was good news.

"We have had to execute four wil… free folks thus far. For looting and raping mostly, but there has been no uprising. Mance Rayder was a great help in easing the tension, you were right to spare him, your Grace." Lord Alliser acknowledged as he made his report. "Lord Stannis has been accepted, I would not say well, but he has worked hand in hand with the men to settle camps and villages. Though several of the men he brought with him died. They cannot handle the cold.

'The red woman however is another story." The Commander sighed. "She has been trying to preach her religion and a few of the free folks followed her. Not enough to be concerning at first but they became fanatics quite quickly. They were starting to frighten the other people. Some men were killed and threats of burning people alive were made. In concertation with Lord Stannis and Rayder, we removed her. She has been in the cells of Castle Black for half a moon now. Rayder and I wanted to execute her, but Lord Baratheon told us that you had said that she could be useful." Daeron was surprised at how loyal Stannis appeared to be. He had expected the man to jump at any occasion to get revenge. "She will be awaiting your judgement, your Grace.

'Now, for the worst, I fear some Northeners saw the wildlings and the Baratheon army. We had the confirmation last week. A raven from Winterfell summoning us to 'explain ourselves' to Roose Bolton. We also know that he has called the banners. Even if not all the acting lords are loyal to him, they will have to answer for fear that their true lords will be killed at the Twins." Daeron nodded at the man's word. "As you know, it takes two moons for Winterfell to assemble its banners, do you think Lord Stark might be here by then?"

"I would hope so, but we cannot count on it. Dorne is a long way from here and Meereen even more. We will probably have to begin without him." Daeron replied. Then he remembered what he had heard in his dream in Meereen. "Though, I believe Bolton might be occupied by his son's wedding." Ser Alliser frowned, not understanding. "I believe the old lion has found a new husband for his daughter."

"A bastard?" The Lord Commander exclaimed, clearly shocked.

"I would have to confirm it." Daeron nodded. The problem was, he had no idea how to confirm anything. He did not say that to Ser Alliser, obviously. "Now what about the…" He did not know why he struggled to get the word out, but only thinking about the monsters gave him chills.

Lord Thorne gave a side look to Arianne. Maybe he was gauging her reaction. She had none. Once more, Daeron thanked the gods for his wife. He could not have dreamt of a more supporting and smarter Queen. "We have seen nothing since you left your Grace. But I try not to get the rangers to far from the Wall. I don't want to lose anymore good men." He paused. "In fact, I don't want to lose bad men either." Usually, Daeron would have found his remark to be funny, but he just nodded. Any man who died would essentially go over to the enemy. The last thing they needed was to make the army of the dead bigger.

"You're right to do so. Keep the patrols as they are. And please inform me if anymore ravens come from the South. I shall go to see Lord Stannis now. We will talk again when I come back." He promised.

"Wait, your Grace!" Ser Alliser stopped him. "What are we to do with the red woman?" Daeron had almost forgotten about her, focused as he was on the Boltons and the White Walkers.

"Keep her for now. I want Lord Baratheon to be here when we deal with her." Daeron instructed and if the Lord Commander disagreed, he showed none of it.

...

Flying above the Gift brought Daeron both relief and dread. On the one hand, he was happy to see villages coming from the earth out of nowhere. But on the other, he could see, even feet above the camps, that there could never become permanent settlements. They were poorly made and overpopulated due to the fact that both the Lord Commander and Lord Baratheon had not wanted to venture into the New Gift. It would have been too close to some Northern Houses' territories. Daeron also knew that when there were too many people in too little and ill-thought space, tensions would arise quickly. It had been moons already. They would be lucky if there was not an uprising before Daeron started marching South. Also, he had not really thought through what he would do with the free folks once his campaign was on the way. He doubted he could persuade Stannis to stay behind and it did not seem fair to order him.

Lord Alliser had informed the royal couple that Stannis had settled with the southern-most free folk camp, at the Queenscrown. The last keep – it was more of a tower, named after Queen Alysanne – before the Wall. It was a short flight away from Castle Black, fortunately so, since Arianne had to feed Aemon once in a while. It had been a struggle when they had crossed the Narrow Sea from Meereen. A few rocks washed by the waves had had to do for the Queen and the little Prince.

Stannis Baratheon was as rigid as Daeron remembered. His face was cold and his posture hard. He made Arianne uneasy instantly judging by the slight increase of pressure she applied to her husband's arm. For the first time, Daeron discovered Stannis' family, or at least part of it, his daughter was nowhere in sight. The Lady Selyse was plain if one wanted to be polite, unpleasant to look out otherwise. She was too bony, her eyes were sulken, her nose pointy as a spear, her colouring unremarkable and – if rumours could be believed – the ears she hid behind her hair were monstrously big. She looked frail and Daeron recalled talks of stillborn children in the Baratheon household. To think Stannis aimed to make her Queen, her appearance alone would not have helped his reign, as sad as it might be.

She curtsied well though it felt a little forced, as if she had no wish to do so. "Your Grace, may I present my wife, Lady Selyse of House Florent." She was a Florent, Daeron had forgotten that.

"A pleasure, my Lady." He nodded to her. It was not. "Allow me to present in turn my wife, Arianne of House Martell and our son, Prince Aemon." The King saw the quick flash of jealousy in the lady's eyes. As many noble women in her position did, she felt like a failure for failing to provide an heir to her husband. There was an awkward silence after Arianne had greeted them, as if both parties waited for the other to speak. "… I had hoped to meet your daughter, Lord Stannis." Daeron said.

"Your Grace, the girl is deformed, we did not want to bother you with her." Selyse Baratheon did not love her child, he realised in that instant. She wanted her to be kept away, similarly to how Jon had been kept away when Robert had come to Winterfell. How rejected the little girl had to feel. He would not wish that on anyone, and he was about to make Lady Baratheon understand that.

"Lady Shireen is currently the heir of House Baratheon!" He protested. "My cousin Bran was a cripple, I was raised a bastard, do you truly think I would mind a few scars? I would like to meet your daughter." He insisted. The lady's face twisted in a mix of rage and disgust, she turned on her heels and disappeared into the tower.

No one talked while Lady Selyse was gone to get her daughter. They observed each other. For once, the older lord's face did not only show indifference. Daeron could see a hint of surprise and maybe respect in his gaze.

Finally, Lady Selyse came back out of the tower, a little girl following her. Shireen Baratheon was about the same height Arya had been the last time Daeron saw her – though he guessed if she was still alive then she would have grown – and had the traditional Baratheon colouring. Her ears were her mother's but apart from that, she would have grown into a quite comely lady. She would have if not for the scar on her cheek. Her skin was grey, cracked and hard looking. Like stone. He had never seen a person sick with greyscale before, but he knew when the disease evolved, the men were called stone men and sent to the ruins of Old Valyria. He understood their name now and thanked the gods that the disease had not progressed too far in the little girl.

She looked impressed by the royal family and half hid behind her father. Daeron noticed that she was purposefully trying to hide her afflicted cheek… and that she crept as far from her mother as possible. He did not know how he should act, he wanted to make her feel accepted and recognized, but he doubted he could do all that while remaining kingly. Fortunately, Arianne did not embarrass herself with such protocol.

Aemon still in her arms, she squatted down to be at the girl's level. "Hello, Lady Shireen." She said in a soft voice. "My husband and I have been looking forward to meeting you." She smiled.

"It's an honour, your Grace." The girl had a polite and shy tone. Little Aemon wailed in his mother's arm and the King saw the little girl's eyes shine with interest. "What's his name?" Lady Selyse's head snapped at her daughter, her eyes full of reproach, but the girl did not seem to see.

"We named him Aemon." Arianne happily replied.

"For the Dragon Knight?" Not only did the young lady know her history but it seemed to make her happy to talk of the knight of legends. She got out of her father's shadow a little.

Daeron chuckled and decided to intervene. "No, Lady Shireen, for Maester Aemon, the late Maester of Castle Black." Obviously, the news of the death of the old man had not reached Stannis yet and the man's eyes widened. "But he himself was named for the Dragon Knight, you know your history well."

The praise brought a smile to Shireen's face. "I read about it in a book on Dragonstone." She explained. "If he is named for a maester maybe the prince will like books too when he is older."

"Maybe." Arianne laughed. "You do like books, don't you Lady Shireen?" The girl nodded eagerly. She was a different child than the one they had seen trailing after her mother only minutes before. She now looked happy, not shy at all and it made her prettier in truth.

"Then, when we retake Winterfell, you have to visit the library." Daeron told her. "It was one of my favourite places as a child."

"Really? I could?" She asked excitedly. "Could I, Father?" She turned to Lord Stannis.

"If the King allows it then of course." When he talked to his daughter, his voice was a slight tone warmer and his face a slight less rigid. Stannis turned back to the royals and cleared his throat. "Your Grace, we have much to discuss." He said and then waited, seemingly waiting for something.

Arianne was the first to take the hint. "Of course, Lord Stannis. We will leave you to it. Lady Selyse, Lady Shireen, would you do me the honour of showing me around Queenscrown? It looks lovely." It did not, but Daeron was no less impressed by his Queen. He knew she must be hating it internally. Being kept out of the discussion based on her sex.

The women went their way and Stannis motioned for the King to follow him. They walked through the camp that had been organized around the tower. Daeron discovered with pleasure that Stannis had already started preparing for the war. He had a smithy running, for instance and a training yard, packed with men.

The living camp however was another story. Most of the ground was covered by the free folk's hut. Completely disorganised, the chaos would be easily used against them if their enemies sent scouts, spies or assassins. A part of it was well-organised, yet, the accommodations were not made for such cold weather. In fact, the straight rows of southern tents were mostly deserted and the few soldiers who had not yet gone to the free folk's habitations were obviously in great discomfort.

"I had underestimated the effects of the cold." Stannis acknowledged.

"Winter is coming." Daeron replied with a small smile. He had heard this phrase so many times as a child, he guessed now he understood what it meant.

"Indeed. I wanted to talk to you about Lady Melisandre." The lord engaged the conversation. "I trust the Lord Commander told you of what happened."

"He did." Daeron confirmed. He had expected Stannis to bring up the subject. "Though he was very succinct. He only told me she turned some free folks into fanatics."

"That's what she does best. She appeals to their needs, their wants and uses them to convince them to do what she wants." Daeron frowned to Stannis words, if what he was saying was true then Melisandre was dangerous. And he might have to eliminate her, no matter how useful she might be in the future. "She uses people's hardship to lessen their trust in their own parent's gods and then she brings in her red god. She starts small, phrasing 'prophecies' in such ways that they always come true and people start to believe her. Then, when she has them in her grasp, she talks of sacrifices. Not humans at first, idols, statues, meat, a little blood. She starts small before she deploys her true practices."

"But doing that in two moons…" Daeron was astonished by the speed of her process.

"She had my wife – a pious woman raised in the faith of the Seven – wrapped around her finger in less than two weeks." Stannis revealed. Now, Daeron got why he did not want the women around as they talked. "So, I ask of you, what will you do with her?"

Daeron thought about it for a second. "I could have her executed as Mance Rayder and Lord Thorne wanted. But, if what you tell me is true, we would risk the wrath of her new followers, maybe even some of your men." Stannis nodded. "I could exile her to Essos. Send her back where she came from…" It was definitely not ideal, the problem with exile was that he had no real way to enforce it. Nothing could stop her from taking a ship back to Westeros once she landed in Essos. And if she did, considering the size of the Seven Kingdoms, it could be years before he noticed that she had come back.

"It is not ideal…" The Baratheon man voiced the King's concerns. "As I told you when we first met, I want her dead, so she can never do anymore damage. We might have an uprising, but sometimes sacrifices are necessary." Daeron did not like this saying, but it did not make it any less true. "You could also decide to do nothing yet, wait until we're in Winterfell." The King liked the man's way of thinking, he had a feeling Stannis did not hide things from him and that he would never restrain from telling him something to spare his feelings.

"You've given me much to think about, Lord Baratheon." Daeron acknowledge. "Also, while I understand why you did not want your wife present, know that Arianne is my partner, in truth. There is nothing you tell me that you can't tell her."

"Of course, your Grace. Queen Arianne seems like a bright Queen." He said. There was no warmth in his tone but coming from this man, Daeron knew it was high praise. "I envy you, to be truthful. I have yearned for a real partner most of my life but fate bound me to Selyse Florent." Daeron nodded. There was nothing else to say.

...

Arianne was full of praise for Shireen Baratheon. Apparently, the girl was smart, very knowledgeable and overall good company. But what caught the Queen's attention even more was that she was gifted with Aemon. The baby had apparently giggled all the while Arianne was with the little girl. She shared her wooden toys with the Prince and told him stories. If the daughter got the whole-hearted approval of Daeron's wife, the mother only got scorn. When they were together in bed, Arianne described their host as a hateful woman, a bad mother, and an awful companion. The Queen wanted nothing to do with the woman. But she was understanding of Stannis' reason for having requested a private talk with Daeron. She described it as 'wise' considering who his wife was.

Concerning the red witch, Arianne had a strong opinion. "Execute her," was her answer. According to her, she would only bring more trouble if they let her go free. And killing a fanatic would help them both with the pious Northern Houses and the Faith of the Seven eventually. Apparently, all the advisors present around him agreed. But Daeron was still undecided.

He still had weeks to decide. Stannis would come back with them to Castle Black, but first, Arianne advised that they spent some time with the men, to gather their support and make their presence known.

Daeron had always heard that Stannis had few friends, few followers and that nobody wanted to be led by him. "No one wants you for their King. You never wanted any friends brother, but a man without friends is a man without power." Daeron remembered the words Renly Baratheon had had for his brother when they had met years before. It was true Stannis had no real friends, but he had some loyal men under his orders. The men did not follow him because they liked him, they followed him before they respected him, and he was as loyal to them as they were to him. Underneath the rigidity and the passing fanatism, Stannis had always been ready to die for his men. He would have done so, when he was only eight and ten and under siege from the Tyrells, and he had not changed much.

Duty and honour were even stronger values in the Broken Stag's army than Daeron had seen at the beginning of Robb's campaign, and he had thought at the time that the honour of the Northern army would see them victorious. He had come a long way since then.

...

Considering the fact that he was still debating what to do with the red woman, Daeron had half expected to see Shiera Seastar. He could not have been more wrong. Instead of a beautiful woman in a field of fire, he discovered an old man with short milky-white hair and only one opened eye. The man was entangled in the roots of a tree and they were in a sort of cave. Actually, the roots appeared to grow through him.

"Who are you?" Daeron asked.

"Who am I?" The man repeated. His voice was like the rest of him. Old. "I have been many people. I was Brynden Rivers, bastard son of a King. I was Bloodraven, Hand of the King. I was Lord Commander of the Knight's Watch, a crow. And for the last fifty years, I was the Three-eyed raven. Condemned to see all that ever happened while being stuck here with roots piercing through my mortal body." Daeron took a step back.

"Bloodraven?" He was surprised. Throughout the years, he had expected to meet the famous bastard, but he never had. "You've been missing for years. But fifty? Fifty years missing? In a tree? You would have died way before that." He reasoned.

"I did not. Old magic works in mysterious ways…" The man said mysteriously. "I was waiting for someone."

"Who? Me?" Daeron asked.

"Not everything is around you Daeron Targaryen. If I had been waiting for you, I would have died way earlier and visited you in your dreams. I would not have had to suffer the roots of this tree." He explained dismissively.

"You're dead?" Daeron was not sure he understood anything that was happening.

"I have been for a few hours. I think it's fitting that dear Aemon and I left the world so close to each other, we came North together after all." He said.

"How do you know he's dead?" Daeron asked.

"Have you not been listening boy? I told you I saw everything. Now another will have this burden." The old man sighed.

"Who?"

"The one I was waiting for."

"Who?" Daeron insisted.

"He was once known as Brandon Stark. A broken boy now turned into the three-eyed raven." Daeron gasped at Bloodraven's words.

"That's impossible. You have to be confusing with another boy, Bran was killed by Theon Greyjoy." Daeron told him though with difficulty, to think of his little cousins still caused him pain.

"He did not. The Squid could not find Brandon and Rickon. He burnt two farmer's boys instead." The old man revealed.

"What? No… the raven said…" In his confusion, Daeron did not see the bastard extending his arm so that his hand could touch Daeron's forehead.

It all came in flashes as soon as the old man touched him. Bran and Rickon with Hodor and the wildling woman, Osha – the one Robb had captured. They were running away from Winterfell.

Then, some place else, they separated. There were two more people with them, a boy and a girl, people Daeron had never met. They went with Bran and Hodor while Osha left with Rickon.

Rickon arrived at a castle, one with the roaring giant of House Umber on its banners.

Bran however was still with his three companions, advancing in the snow. With horror, Daeron realised he was beyond the Wall.

They arrived at a huge weirwood tree but Daeron could not see more, he was back in the cave, in front of Bloodraven, but Bran was there too. "You will become me." The great bastard said. "I don't want to." Bran protested. "Don't worry, you will not be an old man in a tree."

The next scene was disturbing. Bran was holding onto a root next to Bloodraven and both of them had revulsed eyes. Daeron heard the sounds of the wights before he saw them. they were running into the tunnels of the cave. The boy Daeron did not know had disappeared at some point, but the girl was still there. She took Bran and Hodor and fled. Summer – Bran's direwolf – died at the wights' hands. Suddenly, three White Walkers appeared. One seemed to be wearing a crown, with his icy blade, he sliced through Bloodraven.

The final image Daeron had was of the girl pulling Bran and shouting to Hodor: "Hold the door!" The sweet giant did, even though the wights were killing him.

Daeron woke up screaming with Arianne shaking him and his son crying in his bassinet.

"Daeron wake up!" His wife ordered him. "What's happening?" She asked in panic.

"Bran and Rickon…" He breathed out. "They're alive."

...

Daeron was very rarely sick, but it was undeniable that he was burning with fever ever since he woke up. He could not believe that he had not felt himself catch a cold. Arianne japed that she fared better in the snow than him. But in truth, they both believed that his state of distress played a great part in his health. Fortunately or not, he did not have much time to think of his young cousin. He slept too much for that.

When he woke up the next day, he was starting to feel better. That was the first thing he noticed. The second was that his wife was not alone at his bedside. The fog he felt his mind was in made it difficult for him to realise who was with her. Yet, he knew he had seen that bald head before. He batted his eyes a few more times to get used to the light.

His eyes widened and he sat up in his bed when he realised who the bald man was. "Lord Varys?!"

"Happy to see you awake, your Grace." The eunuch chuckled.

"What are you doing here?"

"It was becoming to dangerous for me in King's Landing. My 'failure' to find Ser Jaime broke the trust Joffrey had in me. Or rather the trust Tywin had in me." He explained. "I thought I would be more use to you alive than dead so I pretexted to go look for the golden knight myself. I also had information you might find useful." The man said.

"The Tyrells withdrew their support. Lady Margeary had several miscarriages. Tommen Waters is educated by his uncle at Casterly Rock and Cersei Lannister is on her way to Winterfell to be married to Ramsay Snow." Daeron summarized what he knew.

"She will arrive in a week's time and Roose Bolton is under orders to have the wedding proceed immediately." Varys completed. "I see you are already well informed. I'm afraid I bring more bad news though."

Daeron felt his blood freeze instantly. He did not need bad news, but he needed to know. "What bad news?" He asked slowly.

"Well… Rickon Stark is alive… but Roose Bolton has him." The man explained.

"What? No! He's safe at the Last Hearth, with the Umbers!" Daeron protested. He had just seen that in his last dream.

"He was at first you're right. But I'm afraid Mors Umber is not as loyal to the Stark as his nephews and with Jon Umber still captive at the Twins, he is de facto the Lord of Last Hearth." Lord Varys developed. "He brought Rickon to Winterfell a few days ago as a 'wedding gift' to Ramsay. No doubt he's hoping that bringing a lost Stark will win him the favours of the new Lord of Winterfell and maybe even the Lannisters so that he might see his nephew again. I am afraid the Manderlys will probably adopt the same strategy. And who is to know how many other Northern Houses will do the same. They're afraid of the Lannisters and for now, the Boltons are the Lannister representatives in the North."

So any opinions? Was it good?

Next chapter: Daeron's advisors catch up with what has been going on in King's Landing and the Red Woman is tried.

Guest reviews:

- Thank you very much.
We won't know about Dany for a while unfortunately. But, I agree with you, Daario brings out her worst impulses.
As for Margeary, you'll know more next chapter ;).