And here, as I promised, one of my weirwood drabbles becomming a longer history. Hope you enjoy it!
A song of ice and fire is George R. R. Martin´s work, not mine.
"We are approaching, my lord" Aurane Waters informed the crew, whose leader was watching the place from the prow of the ship. The young bastard looked at the man in reverence, his long silver mane moving on the wind like a cascade of metal. "Everything ready. We are only waiting for your order, my lord."
"Everybody gear up then" Daeron Targaryen ordered, his cold indigo eyes fixated on the objective, Old Valyria. He had planned so much to get so close to it, to cross the Smoking Sea and challenge the curse that burned even the dragons. "Is the special surprise also in the water, captain?" the Velaryon bastard nodded eagerly. "Good. Welcome our guests as it´s appropriate then."
"It´s going to be a pleasure" a torch was thrown into the water as the young man made his signal. Jars full of a green liquid has been poured onto the water by careful mariners, a liquid that immediately caught on fire. Any other vessel would have burned, but this one was special. It was coated in a mixture of weirwood sap and herbs designed to about that by his uncle Brynden. "Woow, this is amazing. Just like you promised, not even wildfire can damage this vessel."
"Of course not, I wouldn´t have to dared to approach this coasts without a safeguard" the young king said as he pushed a rag over his mouth and nose, completing the outfit. "Catapults ready?" Aurane made the signal, with which his mariners loaded the weapons, targeting the coasts. "FIRE!"
"FIRE!" a shower of jars, followed by one of fire made the coast an inferno. Everywhere, even in the water, the men could see humanoid figures moving wildly around, trying to extinguish the fire the consumed their flesh. A few hours later, the green flames lowered and the stonemen were completely consumed. Daeron watched the dead corpses with dispassionate eyes, only to turn to his men.
"We will go there now" he announced, joining his hands. "Remember what I told you! You must keep your skin covered all the time and never touch anything with naked skin! Don´t touch your face, not even because of the sweat! The healers must prepare hot herbal mixture for when we arrive! No one enters the ship before a sanitation shower! Everything we collect must also be boiled and our clothes from the search destroyed! There is not going to be greyscale in this ship!"
"Yes, your Grace!" they all answered, loyal as they were. The ship landed on the coast of Old Valyria, where the healers prepared everything for the sanitation process. Daeron went down with his men, who immediately began to register every part of the destroyed port for treasures. A second party went further as soon as it was safe, researching the manors that stood a little bit further. The sacks they brought from mainland soon began to be filled with valuable items that were carefully dumped into boiling pools of herbal mixture, a powerful remedy of Bloodraven´s invention.
"This is truly amazing" one of the men in the king´s party said with an old leather thing, watching what was inside in amazement. "Something that remains sharp not matter how much time passed since it was last sharpened…"
"Keep focussed if you don´t want to become this place next inhabitant" the Targaryen reminded him, putting more things into his own satchel, like a coffer and a richly adorned belt of valyrian steel and sapphires. "We should head to the ship soon"
"Your Grace…"
"Every second exposes us to contagious, I won´t allow it a second more than necessary" he said before turning towards the door. "Besides, I doubt those in the shore were the only stonemen in this island. We are going to find more troubles if we are here when the wildfire barrier starts to fail."
"Have we collected enough?" another asked, his voice revealing himself as considerably younger than the other.
"Right now, it´s the last of our worries" the king answered, putting other item in his nearly full satchel. He moved to other part of the room, as if drawn towards the entrance of another. He passed and found a nursery. A complete one, with a valyrian steel crib in the centre… with a dragon egg inside. "This is what I was searching" Daeron lifted it, quickly putting the stone inside his satchel. "I just hope that they were able to find more…" he quickly exited the place, after a check through the window. "Time is up, we have to leave"
"The wildfire…"
"Is the only thing protecting us now and the decontamination process is long" he walked away towards the shore, where the other teams were already beginning to return to the royal ship. Daeron and his men were the last ones, barely making it to the ship before the stonemen started to appear again on the shore. The king shed his clothes once in there, tossing the used linens to the fire that roared in the deck. Then he entered to the herbal mixture with the others. "How many things were collected?"
"The maester is still examining the first ones to get out of the boiling water, but apparently, we have a few interesting items. Arrow tips, some daggers, jewellery…" Aurane informed, maintaining the distance from his king, just in case. "Full armours were also found, the same with swords"
"Perfect, they will be useful on the way, to gain allies" Daeron smiled, lowered his body into the nearly scalding water of his bath. "The instructions about how to treat them and the men to prevent infection?"
"Followed letter by letter"
"The men that went with me?"
"Aisled from the rest, in case someone caught the infection"
"Dragon eggs?"
"Haven´t checked with the maester yet, but I have seen at least one" the Velaryon bastard made a face that would fit more on a child than the full grown man and mariner he was. "Never I thought I would live to see this day, dragon eggs ready to be hatched by a true king of Targaryen blood…"
"A king that is not ready yet" the six and ten namedays old boy said, passing a hand through his silken silver hair. Aurane pouted. He sighed. "I hope you understand that when I finally roll the dice of my destiny, I will bet it all. That´s why I have to wait for the perfect moment. Otherwise this all would have been for nothing."
"You take it all too seriously"
"This is serious, my friend, more than you can ever think" Daeron said, remembering his lessons with his uncle Bloodraven. Specially a quote from a Lannister he was going to remember all his life. "When you play the Game of Thrones, you win or you die. There is no middle ground."
"Very sombre, your Grace" the captain said before retiring, leaving him to complete his bath. "By the way, we caught news from the capital just before we took off from the port of Volantis that I forgot to mention" Aurane cleared his throat, clearly enjoying the situation more than he should. "Jon Arryn died. They say from natural causes, but Marwyn told me it was probably poison."
"And he was correct" the young monarch answered, deeply in thoughts. So it was beginning, he told himself. "Seems like I will have to rush my return home after all."
The next few days, Daeron and his men spent in quarantine. When none of them showed the symptoms of greyscale after the period of incubation, they were allowed to roam freely through the ship and see the treasured they have managed to get. The Targaryen wasn´t really interested in them, at least not in all. Of course he received a full armour of Valyrian steel, three dragon eggs and a few items more, he was more interested in how much what he recovered would add to his war treasure. Enough to buy the loyalty of a sellsword army? Unsullied? The Iron Bank support?
"I see that I´m interrupting something" someone said behind his back, interrupting his thoughts. Before he could even ask who was crazy enough to enter his chambers without announcing himself, the person walked with confidence towards him, a knife in his hand. The blade was put on his hair, dangerously near his neck. But he was not afraid. "A shame you have to cover it. It is so pretty."
"A real shame" the king said. He was in the process of dying his hair brunette, to disguise himself to enter the Seven Kingdoms without being detected.
"At least let me cut it for you" the other person continued, his knife never leaving it´s place by the throat. "From a northman to another northman. There is no one here that will be able to give you a better cut."
"I would do it, if I wasn´t sure that you won´t be able to stop cutting parts of me after that" in a fluid movement Daeron learned from one of his practices with his uncle, from whom he learned more than from Ser Rodrik and maester Luwin combined, he pushed the blade away from his skin and incapacitated the attacker. This only laughed, despite the pain of having his arm twisted. "What do you want, Ramsay?"
"Just to tell you that Larence just finished making a first balance of our incomings. My lord, is more than we first estimated…"
"You haven´t taken into account the percentage we will have to offer the Iron Bank to sway their loyalty. And repay the debts that, without a doubt, the Usurper will leave the Crown in" Daeron let him go. Ramsay could be a mad dog, but he was HIS mad dog, just as Gregor Clegane was Tywin Lannister´s. One he always kept in a short leash. His own little flaying King´s Justice. "Without that…"
"Ask Larence, I don´t know a thing about numbers"
"You should learn, at least to know how many you killed" he returned the blade after examining it. "It´s a nice blade, where did you find it?"
"Pretty, no? It´s part of a set I found in an old leather satchel. They… they must be hunting knifes" Ramsay caressed the sharp thing as if it were his firstborn. "Specially made to hunt, to cut, to flay" he practically purred. "How many Lion pelts will I make with this beauties?"
"Your blades surely will be sharp when the war began then"
"Will I have my Lion pelts then?"
"Of course, Ramsay" the dragon moved with grace to face the mirror once more. He grabbed the dye, applying it over all his hair, covering the silver locks. He washed them next, coming out as a brunette. He then grabbed one of his blades and cut the hair. Shoulder length. "We will be returning North soon. Will you go to your father then?"
"Most likely not, he wants me as far away from good son Domeric as he can. Even if Dom himself would be very happy to see me" the Bolton bastard smiled. Daeron shook his head. How has Ramsay gone from wanting to kill his half-brother to being best friends with him? Surely his intervention couldn´t have been all that happened. "I would prefer to stay with you, your Grace."
"And you know why it isn´t possible" the king answered, also tired of this game. To all the world, he was still Jon Snow, the Bastard of Winterfell, not Daeron Targaryen. Which meant that he didn´t have the freedom to act as he pleased for the time being. He meant… he can´t imagine Lord Stark´s reaction if he appeared like that in Winterfell after two years. Or Lady Stark´s. What would she say if he went back with his little court of bastards? Just seeing Ramsay by his side would make her crazy. "I will be fine with just Robb"
"Oh, I know, it´s just for safety´s sake" the other said, smiling innocently. The monarch rolled his eyes. As if he didn´t know he wanted to skin a fish. "Guess I will be booking a room in Wintertown´s inn."
"You, Aurane, Marwyn and Lawrence" he clarified. "I have something to talk to you all when Robb joins us."
"Oh, it sounds interesting. Does it have to do with my Lion pelts?"
"But of course"
-A few days later-
"JON!" Arya flung herself into her brother´s arms, much to her mother´s displeasure. Behind her, Robb advanced with a smile on his face. He hasn´t seen his brother for two years, since he helped him escape his father´s watchful eyes. "Stupid, why did you disappear? Or worse, why didn´t you take me with you?"
"Arya, your manners" Catelyn reminded her daughter, only to be ignored. She looked the bastard with absolute hate then. How did he dare to come back? After all this time she was rid of him, of his poisonous presence between her children, how did he dare? Those purple eyes that belonged to the dornish whore who birthed him stared back at her with a daring gleam. How did he dare to act so arrogant?
"Welcome back, son" Eddard said, trying to find his nephew in that stranger he had in front of him. He could barely believe that a person could change so much in two years. "Hope you are here to stay."
"I just wanted to be by you in this dark hours of grieve and mourning" Daeron answered. "In my travels I heard about Jon Arryn´s untimely departure from this world and felt the obligation to be by my father´s side to accompany him in his mourning" the young man bowed respectfully to him. "My condolences, my lord."
"You can call me Father" Ned smiled at him. What a boy he was, that nephew of his. So strong, courteous, smart… what a waste will it be when he had to send him to the Night´s Watch. Or perhaps he won´t have to.
"Of course, Father" the Targaryen said, swallowing his claims that he was not his father. Seven hells, that man was barely worthy of being called his uncle. The only man who can be called that was the one that taught him everything he knew, who worked hard to make him the best king he could, his great great uncle Bloodraven. "Is there something I can do for you? To ease your suffering?"
"No, right now we are preparing to receive the King. And it´s better if you stay far away from that" Lord Stark shuddered just by thinking what Jon would do with that opportunity. Maybe poisoning Robert´s wine or knifing him in the heart. Behind him, Lady Stark gave him a smug smile. She liked to see her husband put the bastard in his place for once.
"As you say" the boy said, looking down to mask the expression of absolute hate that threatened to appear in his face. Bran and Rickon appearing in that moment, demanding histories about his travels while Arya refused to let him go and Sansa ignored him, as was fit of a lady. He smiled at his siblings, all of them. "Who wants gifts? I brought one for each of you." He put his hand into his satchel. "For baby Rickon, this knight"
"Pretty!" the boy said when he received the toy, a particularity he found in the nursery he visited in Old Valyria. The toy quickly became a favourite of the little boy, who set out to discover all his tricks.
"For Bran, this dagger" he handed the jewelled dragonbone and valyrian steel weapon. "Be careful, it´s not a toy. You need to learn how to use it to defend yourself." Jon ruffled his cousin´s hair before passing to the next. "For the little she wolf, this hair ornament. I heard it is very popular between the nobility of Old Valyria"
"Ehhhh… thank you" Jon winked to her, moving his head towards her mother, to make her understand that her true gift will come later.
"Sansa…"
"Who wants to receive something from a bastard?"
"Then you don´t want this?" he held up the steel and sapphires belt, which made Sansa´s eyes sparkle. She grabbed it and went off, without even a thank you. Jon rolled his eyes before he handed Robb a sword. The boy thanked him, unsheathing the valyrian steel in amazement. He handed another dagger to his uncle. Lady Stark frowned and was about to leave when… "Don´t you want your gift, my lady?"
"I don´t want anything from you"
"No? I thought you might enjoy this" he pulled out a jewelled mirror, which emitted disturbing images. The lady growled, but received it, making the decision to get rid of it soon. Everybody went away pretty soon after that, leaving Jon and Robb alone. "Get rid of your Greyjoy shadow. Tonight we will make a journey to Wintertown."
"Why?"
"Because I want to introduce you to some people"
-Later-
"Good, we are all here now" Daeron said, using his king voice and poise. In his hands was a small coffer. Robb lowered his hood, watching intently at the people reunited in that empty house. "We can start" his brother opened his mouth to ask something, but the king stopped him with a hand, signalling a table. "Please, take a seat." They did so. "You might ask what you are doing here."
"Helping you with your war? To become a King?" Ramsay asked, smiling at the thought.
"Indeed" the Targaryen continued. "And no King can rule without advisors, without a Small Council." He passed his eyes through them, all of them trustworthy people. "A shame you can´t know the master of Whispers yet, but don´t worry, he will join us during the war" he opened the coffer. "Archmaester Marwyn, you who were by my family´s side and proven trustworthy since the times of my father. I would name you Grand Maester" he handed Marwyn a necklace made of links of valyrian steel.
"Unorthodox, but I guess you don´t have many maesters you can trust in" the man said, accepting the chain.
"Of course" he turned to the others "Lawrence, brilliant little friend, who knows all the numbers, I shall name you master of coin" he handed the boy a coin of valyrian steel. "Dear Aurane, the best sailor I know, I would name you master of ships" he handed the Velaryon a pin of trident, which he received. "Ramsay, my wild friend, I shall name you my Justice"
"What? No master for me?"
"I doubt that´s what you wanted" Daeron handed him a little knife with dragonbone hilt, which the Bolton accepted. "Robb, my dear brother, the most honourable man I know, I shall make you master of Laws" a quill of valyrian steel was passed to him, which the boy held in amazement. "I haven´t decided on the Hand, but I shall soon" he pulled out a circlet of valyrian steel and put it in front of him. "If you accept this, you shall follow me and help me reclaim my Throne" they nodded, all. "And always remember, we are about to enter the most dangerous game ever, where we will bet everything we have. When we play, we play to win."
"Well said, my boy" Bloodraven said from a corner, invisible to all except his kinsman. "You are the king I was expecting you to become and more. You will success…"
Interesting, no? I thought about the beginning to this history and didn´t find any other. I´m sorry if you hate Ramsay Bolton, me too in most of the histories, but I also read one in which he was Jon´s dog and decided to give it a try. Anyway, he is Jon´s dog because he respected him. Jon in this fic is a very scary teenager, after all he was raised by Bloodraven himself. Ramsay is also in a very short leash, kind of like Jon´s own Clegane. And I always entertained Jon having a Small Council for his war, if this was made true. Hope you liked the choices! In next chapter you will see how he came to know them and some snippets of his upbringing by his dear warg great uncle. Review!