A Son of Ice and Fire

A/N: Exams are coming up, and unfortunately revision takes precedence over writing this story. I'm not ending it or anything, but expect updates to be down from 3-4 a week to about 1 a week. Once exams are out of the way, the normal schedule will resume and I hope to be ending season 3 by the end of June/ Start of August.

Guest: Yeah I think Hiccup would be a great strategist as well. Robb is a great character but he made serious mistakes that cost him his life. He should have married the Frey girl, shouldn't have trusted the Boltons and he shouldn't have killed Lord Karstark. Robb was a great leader, but he made some terrible decisions.

Chapter 59: The mission comes first

Tuffnut

Staying with the Brotherhood seemed the only possible choice after spending more and more time with them, but there's still one thing I just have to do. I have to go home. I've been putting it off for days, but the need to return to the family I have left is tearing me up inside. I wonder what they are doing now. I just need to see them all - my Mum, my Dad, all my uncles and aunties, maybe even cousin Gruffnut. I need to see them, and the sooner I leave here, the sooner I can return.

I bunched everything I owned together and thrust them into the grubby threadbare sack laying on the ground. With it slung over my shoulder, I headed across to the far side of the hideout, where Beric was sat motionless by the fire. I sighed heavily as I slumped down on one of the large logs opposite him, but he just looked up and smiled.

"You're leaving us?" He asked flatly, looking straight into the flames.

"Not leave, per say, just a little vacation," I joked, before my face fell and my tone turned serious. "I have to go home. I've been away so long, I just need to see them. If by any chance Ruff has had a change of heart and comes back, home is where she'll go. I know it. I… I just have to try."

"I understand," Beric sighed, "every time I'm brought back, I lose part of myself. Memories, feelings, what is and what isn't real. Sometimes I can't tell anymore. I know I had people I cared about, before I died… for the first time. I get these vague reminders of my old life, but even if I did know where to go, I'm not the man I used to be. They wouldn't want me anymore." He paused for a second, and shifted his gaze from the fire up to me. "I can't blame you for choosing family over our cause, but the Lord isn't done with you yet. He resurrected me for a reason, he gave Thoros the ability to bring me back for a reason, he has chosen you and your sister for a reason. In time, I'm sure we will all get our answers."

"I hope so," I smiled, as I shifted myself until I was able to pull the weapon on my hip free and I held the sword on my palms. "You gave me this. I didn't earn it and it isn't right I take it."

Beric studied the weapon for a second, before he stood up and walked towards me. He pushed the fingers I had under the hilt up, so they coiled around it, gripping it firmly. He released his hand, so now it was just me holding the weapon normally. "The sword is yours, my friend. Just promise me, you won't misuse the teachings we taught you."

"I promise," I pledged proudly. "Will there be more for you to teach me when I return?"

"When you return…" he mumbled sombrely, before his downbeat expression flipped to a wide smile. "When you return, there will be more to learn. We will fight together in the great battle. I can promise you that," he smiled, holding his arm out towards me. I rose to my feet, twisting the sword in my hand, until it was in position to slide back into its sheath at my waist, and then I reached my arm out and locked with his. "Until next time we meet, may the Lord protect you," he said with a firm nod.

"And you too," I grinned. Beric let go, and sauntered away, only to return a moment's later holding a large, brown, woven box. He held it in two hands and he reached it out to me. I eyed him momentarily with suspicion, until he lifted one side of his mouth up into a smirk and he practically pushed it into my hands. I carefully accepted it, opening it slowly to reveal that it was filled to the brim with what looked to be at least a month's worth of food. "No, I can't accept this. It's too much," I mumbled, "you can't afford to give me this."

"It's been waiting here since the day you joined us. It's yours," he said without hesitation. Wait, so he knew I'd leave. He knew from the start. "We have our mission, you have yours. When we meet again, I need to know you'll trust me. We have to rely on each other. With these rations, you can start your journey," Beric said, although there was sorrow in his voice, "I am sorry."

Before I could even respond, everyone in the cave had suddenly jumped to their feet and began pouring out of the entrance. Beric gave me one glance, before he pulled out his sword and headed towards the exit, with me only slightly behind. I stuffed the box hastily inside the sack, although it stretched and pulled at the material so much it nearly tore a hole in the side. With the new weight making it hang awkwardly on my shoulder, I held it tightly with one hand, whilst my other reached for my sword.

The trees all around made identifying the danger almost impossible, but when we had reached a decent enough vantage point, I heard Beric let out a deep sigh. A sigh of relief, I hope. All I could see was a veil of red in between the common blend of brown and green of the forest, but clearly he knew exactly what is was. When we clambered down to be on even terrain, all that could be seen were two sets of men standing off against each other. The Brotherhood were infront, with Thoros at the head, seemingly in conversation with someone from the opposite side, whilst the other group were all soldiers in plate steel. When we got close enough, and Thoros turned side on hearing Beric coming through, the person at the head of the opposite force was clear to see. And she was like something out of legend. A fire Goddess.

Cloaked in a bright ruby robe, she shone with the colour lacking from the dullness of the countryside. A lady with such beauty I had not seen since the days of feast and tourneys, where the daughters of great Houses dressed in the finest silks. I'd heard stories about the Red Priestesses, but I thought they were only alive in the stories. Even in the bits of Essos me and Ruff had been to, I'd never seen one. Not once. I assumed they were lost to history, like in the tales of dragons and giants, but I could not have been more wrong. In my daze, I all but missed Lord Beric stepping forward to meet her, but as she glanced in his direction, I couldn't miss the fact her eyes lingered on me just long enough to make me feel slightly uneasy. I kept my distance, watching as the two spoke, and trying to understand what they were saying even though I couldn't hear the words. Whatever is was, it didn't seem good.

When the conversation ended, two of the armoured men stepped past her, and began to haul one of the Brotherhood's new recruits away. The boy tried to fight, and his eyes shone with anger and betrayal when he looked back at Beric, who had just accepted a pouch of gold in return. The boy was dragged away with force, and I just watched in shock. What the hell is happening here? I don't know the boy well, but he doesn't deserve whatever this is. He had told me his name was Gendry, and that he was a bastard from the capital. Just like me he had little left to fight for, and here he thought he could make a decent life. He had said he was joining the Brotherhood, and that this place was the most like a family he'd ever known. And now they've just kicked him out. Sold him like a slave. How can they call this a brotherhood after doing this. This isn't right. This isn't what a family does.

Arya kicked and screamed in protest, most at the woman in red, but some bitter jabs were aimed at Beric and Thoros. She shrieked all the things I was thinking, and the reasoning the men gave for just throwing the boy away didn't sit right with me, and definitely not with her. "We can't defend the people without weapons and horses and food, and we can't get weapons and horses and food without gold," Thoros told her, but she glared at him like he was the enemy. And right now, it was hard to see it any other way.

"I wanted to be one of you," Gendry pleaded, although he had his hands forcefully pinned behind his back as he was shoved onto the back of a cart. The woman in red strode across and spoke to him privately, as everyone just stood in silence, before she came across and headed directly for Arya.

"You're a witch! You're going to hurt him!" Arya growled at her, but the woman kept walking until she was stood mere inches from the girl, where she crouched down to be at equal eye level with her. She reached out a hand, roughly cupping the girls chin, and the priestess stared directly into Arya's eyes.

"I see a darkness in you, and in that darkness… eyes staring back at me. Brown eyes. Blue eyes. Green eyes. Eyes you'll shut forever," the woman said, and there was shock plastered across her face. Arya looked back at her with a mix of anger and confusion, and the woman briskly removed her hand from the girl's face. "We will meet again," she proclaimed, but as she turned from Arya, the woman's eyes once more met mine. No. I don't want one of these prophecies. Don't you… Before I could even argue the idea in my mind, she had already started walking. Her feet hidden under the long flowing fabric as she glided towards me. I opened my mouth to protest, but she was so close now. Oh God, here we go…

Her hands were soft, as they rested on either of my cheeks, so that the bottom of her palms met on my chin. Her expression was unreadable, as for a few seconds she stood there without as much as a breath. But then out of nowhere, a tear trickled down her cheek. I fought to move backwards, but my feet were planted, and all I could do was stare at the anguish in her eyes. I tried to talk, but even that seemed to be impossible, and when she did begin to speak, her voice also seemed to lack the composure it had before.

"I see a light within you, a light that will be buried by the darkness," she said quietly. "In time, that darkness will be all you see, and only you can pull yourself free." She paused and took a deep breath. "A coin cannot exist without two halves, yet you will fail to realise this." Her fingers tightened, her flesh as warm as a fire, gently roasting my skin as she dug into my cheeks. "I will save you, my child, but it is not your life that is mine to save." She let out another deep breath as he returned her hands to her side. She looked to me once more before she turned around and headed off, and I just stood there, both confused and totally shaken at the same time. A few eyes remained staring at me, and I waited until I was completely certain before I took my first step. Then another. And then I couldn't stop. Trees whistled past as I belted through the forest, and all I could think was that I had to go. I need to go home. I need to go home now.

Fishlegs

"So, what is your business with the Queen?" Sir Jorah asked firmly, a hand resting on the hilt of his sword. The Queen turned sharply to him, but slowly placed her hand above the one he had on his weapon.

"They saved my life, they wouldn't do that if they intended to do me harm," she said softly, and he sighed and nodded, returning his hand to his side. As she turned to us once more, her expression was far less innocent, and instead completely serious. "I thank you for your help, but he is right. I have to know, what exactly is your reason for being here?"

"Well…" I started, taking a deep breath, "let me start from the beginning." I turned to Jorah, "your father is Lord Commander Jeor Mormont, correct?"

He nodded, and then sighed heavily, "yes he is. A man of great honour. Why is this important?"

"I served under your father in the night's watch," I informed him. "We ventured beyond the wall, and what we saw there, it's coming for us all. You know the legends, Sir? Of White walkers and the long night? Believe me, Sir, they are no longer legends."

He took a step towards me, narrowing his eyes slightly, before he let out a dismissive laugh. "So, you've come all this way to tell us rumours half a world away?" He snorted snidely, turning back to face Daenerys. "Come, my Queen, this nonsense isn't worth listening to." He started to walk, but she remained fixed, looking at me and Eret with an almost intrigued expression.

"No, I want to hear it. No-one would travel across the narrow sea for no reason," she said calmly, before looking at me and nodding. "Please go on."

"Thank you, your grace," I said appreciatively. "These are not rumours, not stories, not tales to tell your children. This is the truth. Your father, Sir Jorah, he was attacked in the night by a dead man, inside the walls of castle black." As Sir Jorah's animosity turned changed towards worry, I quickly subdued any fears, "your father is fine. The last I know, anyway. But that was the start. When we rode out into the far north after that, me and Eret saw the full scale of this enemy in the north. We saw it all. White walkers, and an army of thousands and thousands of dead men. From those recently passed, to those dead for years, we saw them all. Eyes as blue as the sky. You could cut them in half and they would still keep crawling towards you. This is not a joke, my Queen," I said as deadly serious as humanly possible.

"Say I believe you, then why are you here?" She finally responded, after taking a few moments to allow it to sink in. "If you are telling the truth, why run as far away as possible from the threat."

Eret stepped forward, "the best option would be to run," he stated flatly. "Out there, there is an army that doesn't leave bodies on the battlefield. There are generals that won't be negotiated with. All there is between them and the world we know is a wall. One breach. One. And they are through. They will wipe the slate clean and no army will be able to stop them." I look at him and shook my head. Would he really just have us run?

"And that's why we need your help," I said boldly, looking at her.

"My help?" She exclaimed with raised eyebrows. "And what exactly do you think I'm going to do about it?"

"Umm, actually I don't know about that," I admitted timidly, earning a scowl from Sir Jorah. "We came to Essos to gain support in this fight. Have you heard about the temple of R'hllor in Volantis?" I asked her and she nodded a single time. "We went there in the hopes of getting some warriors to add to our cause. The 'Fiery Hand' are soldiers for the Lord of light and we hoped that some would believe us and come to Westeros to fight. But when we got there, they had already expected our arrival, and a priestess there gave us instructions on how to defeat the threat. They told us we needed to protect you."

"And you have," she said and a slight smile crossed her lips. "I thank you for what you've done for me, and I am willing to allow you permanently into my service, if you bend the knee." I looked at her, and then across at Eret, but her next words stopped me before I even had a chance to make a move. "Honestly, I do not know whether you are telling the truth or not, but either way, it doesn't matter. My destination is Westeros, but I can't help your fight with just two Knights and a few Dothraki to support me. Once I have the support needed to go back home, and when I retake my rightful throne, then, and only then, will I be able to act on this problem."

"Problem?" Eret exclaimed loudly, but my disapproving look didn't stop him from continuing. "There will be no Westeros for you to get back to if you don't help us now. This isn't a game, your highness, this will be the end of us."

"Mind your tongue," Sir Jorah snarled, once more placing his hand on his sword.

"Why?" Eret snapped. "We've lost everything and have sailed for months just to be told to fuck off and wait a decade." He turned to face me, the anger clear in his eyes. "I told you this would be a waste of time. I told you that. But you made me come anyway."

"Eret, be quiet," I ordered, but he just looked at me with indignation, "this isn't a time for you to throw a tantrum. This is serious."

"You know, this is exactly the time," he laughed.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I argued back.

He took a step towards me and shrugged his shoulders, "why is this so important to you? What has the world done for you? Your mother is gone. Your father is gone. Drago is in control of your House. What in this world is world saving?"

"Everything!" I snapped back. "You'd sacrifice the lives of millions. Why?"

"I've sacrificed enough for them," he growled, "and if by any chance those icy freaks stab Drago through the heart with one of their spears, then that's a bonus. I don't care about anyone in that wretched country. They can just deal with it themselves."

His confession caused me to literally rock back a step, but he seemed totally unfazed. "You don't actually believe that, do you?" I asked weakly.

"What? Don't like what you hear?" He said scornfully.

"You're lying. The cousin I knew wouldn't ever think something like that," I pleaded. No. He can't be serious. He can't be. Come on Eret, I believe you're better than this. Come on.

He just started to laugh, "you're right, Fishlegs, you're right." Thank the Gods for that. He had me going for a minute. "the cousin you knew would never do something like that, but I am not the cousin you knew, am I?" He grunted, and all I could do was stare in shock as he continued. "I am lying. I said I am your cousin, but I'm not. That boy died the second Drago pinned me down and burned his mark onto my skin." As he talked, he pulled the neck of his shirt down, to reveal a large rectangular scar across his top of his chest. It was intricately detailed and could only have been made by a precise instrument, one made for that purpose. One used as a form of torture. He snappedhis shirt back up, and he stared at me with eyes as cold as ice. "He made me a monster. He made me what I am. So you can try and save the world all you want, but no-one has helped us so far and I'm frankly sick of trying. If they want to watch the world burn, who am I to try to stop them."

"Then why bother at all if you're just going to give up," I snapped. "We've cone all this way together. Fought those monsters together. Found the Dragon Queen together." I spared a look over at her, and I sighed heavily, before turning back to Eret. "And you'll just give up. Just like that."

"Now I know that the world is doomed, it's like a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders," he said dismissively.

"Well, I'm not going to run. I still have friends there who need me. I won't leave them to die without doing everything I can," I told him firmly, but all I got in response was him throwing one of his hands in the air whimsically.

"As you wish," he sighed. "For you, Cousin, I'll do my final mission for the Faceless men. But after that, you can run back home and die on your own terms. I'm getting as far away from Westeros as possible."

"That's brave of you," I mocked, hoping to gain a reaction, but all it did was make him turn and start walking away. "Eret!" I called after him. "Eret!" I called louder. "ERET!" I screamed as loud as I could. He didn't look back, didn't even flinch as I called out. "COUSIN, please!" I yelled in panic, but I didn't get a response. I wanted to run after him, to grab him and haul him back, but as I stood there motionless, I knew I was making the right choice. As he faded into the crowd, and all signs of him vanished, even the knowledge I was doing right by the realm didn't make the guilt any less. He's done everything to protect me, and I just let him go as if he was nothing. The only family I have left, and now he's gone. And now I may never see him again.

With a deep sign, and still reeling under the weight of my decision, I turned to face the Queen. Without even a moment's hesitation, I crouched down and my knee hit the ground. I looked up to meet her eyes as she took a few steps forward towards me. "My mission is to protect you, my Queen, and if you would allow me to serve in your Queensguard, I will not fail you."

She looked across at Sir Jorah, and then to the other side to Sir Barristan. With a smile on her face, she took another step forward. With the fabric of her dress blowing against me, I looked up to see her place a hand on my shoulder. "It would be my honour to take you into my service," she said boldly. I shakenly rose to my feet, only now noticing how close she was, and was temporarily frozen.

"Thank you, your grace," I mumbled timidly. At least at the watch, there were no women to embarrass myself infront of. Especially not beautiful blondes with seamless skin and perfect eyes. No. Fishlegs. Cut it out. She's my Queen. Get a grip of yourself. You liked brunettes better anyway, remember? Oh Gods, what have I got myself in for here? I somehow managed to compose myself and speak with some strength to my voice, "So, what now, my Queen?"

She smirked as she released the hand on my shoulder, and then she gracefully strolled away. When she reached Sir Jorah, she span back around with her head held high, and she rubbed her hands together menacingly. Her smile grew wider and I could see the cunning in her eyes, as she spoke with fire behind her words, "Now… Now we get my army!"