Hello my friends. I apologize for the late post. The chapter has been almost ready for almost 2 weeks, but I just finished my finals, and I wanted to polish it a bit. To be honest, I barely kept a fifth of the original thing. Everything else was changed in one way or another. I hope you can bear my inexperience with some things, such as a lack of a Beta reader, mainly because I am Spanish, and none of my friends has a level of English high enough to actually do the beta reading for me. This chapter took a bit of work and several scrapped ideas. But I am quite content….. That and I might have gotten some inspiration form the Fate series. Damnation, I love that anime. I also have been working on a Naruto fanfic idea….. And a few extra things.
I have corrected a few mistakes in the last chapter that were very helpfully pointed out to me. I also want to say that there will be a few OCs, and while there will be mention of many worlds, only characters from a selected few will appear. I am preparing a list of appearances. If any of you has a nice idea or thinks of a special character that would fit well in the story, fire away I'm all ears.
Now, time to answer a few things (if you want to ask something, or comment on something and you don't want to do a PM, please don't do it in Guest, I don't want to confuse you):
Jon Snow: 7 hells, my dear black haired friend. Seven Hells, and an extra 4 incoming.
Crazzytony: Why, thank you very much! I am humble by your words. I do try to correct as much as I can, but as I said, I have no beta reader. I have written for many years, but not until this one did I decided to actually publish something, so I do have a little experience…..and I hated the season 8 of GoT. So I said, "What the hell, lest do it MY way then". And here we are. I hope I do not disappoint. Feel free to criticize if you see anything out of place.
Feriyen: Ja Ja, gracias. Espero poder plasmarlos lo mejor posible. Va a ser complicado, porque escribir escenas de amorío es complicado para mí, pero lo haré lo mejor que pueda. Ashsra es un personaje misterio que me encanta, y Stannis es un poco diferente aquí porque en los libros, Selsye está bastante mal de la cabeza…por no decir que tuvo que aguantar tres abortos espontáneos….Pero vamos, que guardaba los fetos en botes para hablarle. Y trataba a Shireen fatal ¡Y NO, SHIREEN NO VA A HACER DE FOGATA AQUÍ! ¡ME NIEGO!
Well, my friends, enjoy, and remember, the Lady Protects.
The blade struck true, cutting the knight from shoulder to hip, a single vengeful strike, delivered with more strength that any normal man should have. But it was not a man who was delivering the strike, but a Loyal Hound, and his fury was immense. The undead fell, cut in half, and the Loyal Hound of Dragonstone stood, eyes filled with fury, his greatsword drawn and ready, covered in blood. Last time he has stood like that, he had almost died, and the boy, now man, behind him, had suffered more that anyone had any right to demand. Yet now, he stood alone no longer, for the Hound´s flanks were covered by deadly spines, the ones of the Gallant Knight and the ones of the Flower Knight. The Roses were accompanied by white cloaks, that of a killer of kings and a man too brave for this world. And beside these two white protectors; fire took form in blade, for a priest and a lord, stood, friends in every fate possible, comrades eternal. Coiling like a killer snake, the Red Viper´s spear danced in the air, ready to defend the son of Ashara. But what made the undead take a steep back, was the man who walked forward, grim faced, iron-willed, and filled with his house´s fury. Stannis Baratheon spoke a single phrase.
-You will not touch my son- And they did not. They tried, that they did, but as much power and speed they had, they skill paled to that of the gathered knights. One fell to Ser Barristan, as he pierced his heart with his blade, and Jaime cut his head of his shoulders, just to make sure. The second one fell to the combined might of the Tyrell brothers, overwhelm under the rose´s thorns. Stannis dispatched the third one in 5 strikes, no more, no less, aided by Oberyn Martell´s powerful strikes, as he impaled the monster's heart in two blows. The last one burned upon Thoros´s sword long before the others even began to disintegrate, his legs missing, courtesy of the Dondarrion standing by his side.
The brave knights stood there, challenging the monster that had commanded the minor creatures. The lord of the dead simply sneered,
-Mortals, always trying to bite more than you can chew. This time, you will pass unscathed. But make no mistake; I will have your blood and your remains. Nothing can save you from death-
-True- Sirius said, his hand to his throat, as he rose, still strong, still determined –But it is in human nature to stand against the impossible. And as long as we breathe, we shall do so- And with a movement from his hand, he dispelled the illusion. He turned to his saviors, and tried to speak. He never managed to, because Lady Ashara was embracing him. The man simply stood there shocked. He blinked a few time, before taking a step back, and regarded the woman that stood in front of him, tears streaming down her face, and although he felt sorrow or sadness, happiness seemed to be overwhelming the others. He looked, lost in thought, in memory. And then the memories came, like a tide, overwhelming, memories he had suppressed the day he had begun to search for the grail, the day he had given his heart, soul and mind to the lady. He fought back, stumbling back an step, startling the woman, his mental wards rising to stop the stream of memories, acting on instinct, until kind, loving hands, trusted hands, pushed those wards down, gently, without effort, for they had always been opened to them. He knew the sensation, he knew it very well. He pushed his wards down, and he let it all in.
Her smile, purple eyes shining above him, the feeling of sand under his feet, the gentle sound of waves, the smell of salt and fresh grass, beautiful grey cliffs rising above him, like the walls of a great city. A pale tower shinning above, the same face now stern, but with shinning eyes of mischief and contained mirth. Those same eyes filled to the brim with tears, shouting in vengeful anger, but not directed towards him, and not to the man standing in front of her, as she grabbed him with desperation, her fear palpable, and her worry filling his nose.
Mother…. Kind and beloved Mother. Whispered the voice
Stern, yet kind eyes regarded him, as the man who owned them said something which he did not remember, but he knew he had been listening intently to. The same man, blade drawn, giving him lessons, teaching him, pride obvious in his eyes, at least to him. Those same eyes with a neutral look, his own eyes filled with tears. He remembered those words. "You are my son. To the seven hells with them. You will be better. You are already better". The words were meant as a rebuke, yet it only lighted a strange fire in his chest. One that had filled him few times. Pride.
Father…Proud and loved Father. The voice continued.
The sound of the laughter, echoing in every fiber of his being, as he couldn't physically hold back the smile forming on his face. Curious and inquisitive eyes, eyed him as a small voice asked. "Big brother, do you think I will be as good as Uncle?" he laughed, smiled at him and then ruffle his hair. "Of course you will. You will be the next Sword of the Morning!" He smiled sadly for a second, before saying no with the head "No, big brother, you will be the next Sword of the Morning. I will make sure of it" Pride blossomed in is chest.
Brother… Adoring and dutiful brother. The voice kept.
A bundle of joy and happiness, smiling, eyes filled with wonder, scars deep as the sea. Pain, sorrow, happiness, love. Purple eyes that shone like gems, eclipsing the scars. A terrified face, yet trusting. "Si-si-ri-us" One word, that meant more than anything else in the world. One word that made the sacrifice worth it.
Sister… Cherished and loving sister. The voice became somewhat sadder.
A gruff face, sad and angry, looked at him, fuming in anger. "What would you know about pain? About loyalty?" He had smiled and answered. "Not much of pain. But you are loyal. I wish you were loyal to someone who would be loyal to you. You are a loyal hound. Don let them treat you like a dog" Surprised eyes, and a promise made, a promise kept "I will be loyal to you, if you let me. I can ask my father if you want. But only if you want" Another promise, broken, but by no blame of either of them. "Then I will protect you, little star, I will your guardian hound".
Hound… True and loyal hound. The voice filled his head with a musical laugh. She liked this one.
A trusted face, a knowing smile. Good council and bad jokes that still made him smile. A man he had looked up to, as his father´s most trusted advisor, and a noble man, not born, but made. Kindness and wit, loyalty and truth, a man who valued others more as family than as royalty. A second father.
Advisor… Wise and patient advisor. The voice seemed curious now.
And the more images cascaded into his mind. A fiery blade, seven bolts of purple lightning arching around it. Two green roses growing around a red one, their spines covering the other, pushing lions back. A white wolf and a black wolf, jumping against a monstrosity with Stag horns. A black three headed wyvern, bowing its head to an armored dragon. A knight made of bronze protecting a gate, while a sparrow flies above him, as he tries to take it out. Four lions roaring at each other, as two of them drop to the ground. A Red spear piercing a sun, falling to the ground, annihilating a mountain range, then the sun spewed forward a figure of fire, which danced forwards, until it stopped in front of a lioness, before burning her up. A kraken, burning in blue flames. A rose growing around a chalice, while the sun pours water into it. A man, standing against a black dragon, as the dragon bowed his head to the man.
And then pain, overwhelming pain, echoing screams, his own screams the feeling of a knife going thou his eyes. Darkness and a strange, dark, unholy pain. And then cold, cold and water and death. His legs almost gave out, hadn't the woman caught him in her arms, all those around him looking at him in worry. He barely managed to regain his footing, before looking at the woman, recognition flashing in his amber eyes.
-Mother… Is it you truly, mother?- The woman caressed his face , her fear diming at the sight of the boy she had list so long ago. She was terrified, terrified of hoping, of thinking the man that now stood in front of him, had been, and with some luck he still was.
-The Moon may fall and the sun may burn out, but I will always find you, my little star- And the boy was now crying, embracing his mother, as rain began to pour down on the scarred battlefield. It was true. She had brought him home, to his family at last.
-We searched for you for years, my child. No matter what, we thought you may have survived. I dared not to hope after what the bastard Greyjoy told us. But here you are, my sweet little starlight knight- She kissed him in the forehead, and noted, with some surprise, that her son was now taller than her. And she didn't mind at all. The boy smile and laughed at her words, hugging her close, before he froze, and slowly, he took a step back, and looked at his father.
-Father…. I- Whatever the son was going to say was cut off by the father, how advanced quickly, grabbing his son by the shoulder, and embracing him. The boy didn't even question it, he simply followed the hug.
-My son. You are back- said the Lord of Dragonstone, his face as serious as always, even if his eyes spoke more than any word would have ever been able to. And then, did Stannis Baratheon, Lord of Dragonstone, truly smile for the first time in many years.
-Always father, always- The son smiled, before asking a question.
-Can you do me a favor father? - Stannis arched an eyebrow, and the boy smiled guilty.
-Please, catch me- And like that, the heir to Dragonstone fainted, only hearing his named being called, and a maester being demanded by his roaring uncle. But he was happy. He was, after all, home. He was with his family. Maybe now, he could be able to sleep without all the nightmares… if he ever woke up.
Sirius´s chest came up and down, in a silent rhythm that no one seemed to be able to hear. The master had said he wouldn't make it. The damage from the fight, the attacks from the monstrous knights, and many wounds he had somehow suffered even before that, covered him from head to toe. He had lost too much blood, too much energy. Stannis Baratheon had told the maesters to go to hell. His son would not die, not yet. And so, they all did what they could, pray. Or at the very least it was what more people were doing.
The King had ordered for security to be doubled and to call for the best healers of the Citadel, and had decided that the best thing to do was to get drunk. The Queen had stormed towards the palace without half a word, and Arianne had been accompanied by her Uncle as they escorted Sirius back to the Red Keep, in a circle of dornish men and Stormlanders.
Arianne hadn't moved from his side. No matter who came, what they told her, she simply remained there. Even as midnight reached them, she did not move, as tired as she was, she effused to leave him alone, again. Last time, she had lost him. She wouldn´t do so again. The room was quite big, filed with expensive and exotic furniture, and more useless things. Arianne would have burned it all to the ground for a way to help Sirius, but she couldn't. Neither could the other person in the room. Lady Ashara Dayne remained in the same spot she had taken hours before. She had grabbed his son's hands, and had ben whispering to him. Sometimes, it was old song, others, it was the tales of mischief his younger siblings and, sometimes Arianne, had committed. Others, she was just telling him words of encouragement and love. Arianne didn't know if her was hearing all of that, but she didn´t care. It couldn´t harm him, and after seeing the scars on him, she doubted anything could anymore.
The Princess of Dorne began to tremble as he remembered the myriad of lines, gashed, cuts, burn marks and a thousand more scars in his skin. There were scars that by their size and severity should have killed a man outright, and he sported several of those. His arms had scars too, from his hands to the elbow, where Euron Greyjoy had skinned him, although it didn't feel like scarred skin when she touched it. It almost felt like the lines were running under the skin, forming complex patterns that reminded Arianne of a fish´s scales, just bigger and wider. The line across the eyes had been a matter of great concern and pain for his mother. When she had seen it, she had realized that Balon Greyjoy hadn't exaggerated in the slightest with the description of the things they had done to Sirius. But that only raised more questions.
They had blinded him, yet Arianne could see the amber orbs of light he had for eyes
They had castrated him, yet when they had removed the battered and bloodied armor, and the little clothes that remained underneath, they had told her that he was no eunuch.
They had skinned him, and although she could see where they had, she could also see that the skin had regrown, and those scars were nothing compared to other marks on him.
So, whatever had healed him, whoever had cared for him, Arianne thanked them silently. She moved a dark lock of hair out of the way. They had shaved him, cleaned his hair and scrubbed him of dirt and blood where they could, being careful to not touch the freshly placed bandages. And still Arianne could not take of her mind the image of Sirius lying on the mud, covered in crimson liquid, and bleeding to death, pale as the moon.
-Aunt Ashara? - She asked to her distraught aunt. The woman turned to her, ever so slightly, not really takin her eyes form the form of her eldest son. Arianne could still see the mark of worry and stress, the lack of sleep and the fact that she hadn´t eaten anything since that morning, nor drank, for that matter. And eves in that state, she had had the strength to throw out of the room the whole Tyrell procession and the Lannisters that had accompanied them.
-Aunt Ashara, you need to rest, please. I'm sure Arthur and Shireen are worried sick right now, and although your husband –She would never call Stannis "Uncle Stannis", no matter how much she respected the man- Will keep them calm, they need their mother- Another woman, one less composed, one more egocentric or uncaring, wouldn't have listened. Ashara Dayne wasn't like that. But Arianne saw the distraught eyes even as Ashara tried to hide them.
-My little boy…- She whispered, caressing her son´s face. But her other two children were probably worried, scared, and most likely, angry.
-I will stay, aunt, I promise. I will not let him alone - Ashara looked at her, grateful and uncertain at the same time, with tears in her eyes, before she kissed her son on the forehead, and after a whole minute of hesitation, left the room, throwing glances towards his son all the way to the door. Before she left thought the oak door, she looked at Arianne and spoke to her.
-You are a good person, Ari. Please, take care of him, will you? - The princess of Dorne smiled at her aunt in more meaningful ways that just blood.
-Of course, aunt. I will take as much care of him as I know he would take with me if our roles were reversed- And with a last look, the Dayne Lady left them alone. Arianne looked at the prostrated figure on the bed, and grasped his hand tight. There were things she needed to get off her chest.
-I thought you were dead. I won't even deny it, and if you are listening, this is better. All they said, all they spoke…. I lost hope, I mourned you, I cried for you. We took a ship and we sailed it form Sunspear, and burn it with some of your things, because we didn't have a body to burn. Did you know that that was a tradition reserved to only the Martell house? Uncle Oberyn and Father didn't care what any of the other house said. You got a Dawn Burial. I cried like a little idiot that day- She laughed at herald, fresh tears mimicking the ones of that day. The whole of Sunspear and Dorne had cried the young Dayne, as another funeral had been done at Storm´s End under the commands of Renly Baratheon. But Dorne had made his own memento to the son of Ashara Dayne.
-And here you are, again. At the brink of death, but alive for now. And I don't think any of us will survived mourning you a second time- She smiled at the sad though. No, she didn´t think she would endure that a second time. So she decide to speak of anything else.
-Quentyn still hates you, but Quentyn is an asshole, so that is fine, don't worry. I wished you had been here to see him make a fool of himself several time during the last years. I know I should speak ill of him, but when I compared him with the Sand Snakes, or Arthur, or even you, he is a dick- She chuckled at her own words. Arthur had been to her what Quentyn hadn´t while she had tried to be to him what Sirius should have been.
-Arthur is just like your father, and I thought I would never be able to break him out of his shell. To think that it was Obara out of everyone that did it. Although, in his defense, it was by insulting you. I think I have never seen Obara as impressed as she was with the ferocity Arthur showed then- It had bene quite a surprise when the composed Baratheon had jumped Obara, trying to hurt her for her last comment. It had need incredibly well o the young Dayne, taking in account the different training and age.
-Shireen barely remembered you, and even she missed you dearly. You had a way to mark people, you know? You always have- She sighted at the though. Outside, there was a ruckus that she chose to ignore
-So, when they told me that they had caught you because you had tried to lure away several ironborn so they wouldn´t find you mother and your siblings, I knew it to be true. You were always a coward when it came to defend yourself. Quentyn used to pick on you a lot because of that… But I always found… appealing, that when it came to defend others, you didn´t hold back, always bringing that Baratheon side of you- She caressed his face, feeling the cold skin underneath. Gods, he was so cold….
-I still remember the punch you gave Cletus Yronwood in the face because he called me "very late and poor bloomer". Your father looked like he was going to kill you. You mother, on the other hand, was laughing and gushing around you for being so chivalrous. I never thank you for that. I won't now. Not until you wake up- She stopped, taking in the strength to say the next words.
-I do not deserve to say this, but… Seven above, I have missed you, Sirius, I have missed you. And I don't have any right to say this too…. But I hope you can forgive me, I'm…-
-Forgive you what?- Arianne almost jumped from her seat, quickly cleaning her tears, only to find the stalwart lord of Dragonstone standing in front of her, hard eyes scanning her up and down, hands tightened over his blade, although Arianne could guess that the origin of his anger wasn't her. The screams at the other side of the door reveled said origin.
-What do you think you have to apologize to my son, Princess Arianne?- Stannis had always been too well mannered, always calling her Princess, no matter what. Never just Arianne, never just Ari. And she didn't know if she wanted him to call her that.
-I gave up on him- that hard truth hurt more than any cut or bruise she had ever felt
-He would have never stopped searching, not until he found a body. He would have keep faith, keep looking for me. And I gave up on him the moment you told us of his death. I left him, I cried for him, and I moved on. And he sworn to live and die for me. I am truly a horrible person- She said, eyes watering. Gods it hurt to think how much she had abandoned him. Stannis looked at her for a few moments, unfazed by her words. He took a step forward until he was standing beside Sirius´s bed, his gazes softening when it landed on the boy. And then, he spoke to her, iron filling his voice.
-No, you are not- Arianne looked at him, surprised. She had not expected that.
-You are too care-free, too liberal, too young and fiery for your own good. I know you are no maiden anymore, and I know the list of pretenders and lovers is bigger than many believe. Rarely have you stepped up to you duties, and you have always slacked from your classes and lessons. And most of the times, you dragged my son with you- Arianne tensed, the rebuke hitting her in places and in a moment that angered her even more. Maybe she was all of that, but he didn´t have the right to tell her so
-Which tells me that…- Stannis tried to continued, by the Princes of Dorne cut him off, eyes glaring upwards at them father of the bedridden man.
-That I'm a back crossing dornish woman and a harlot?- She spat, angered at the lack of tack of the Lord of Dragonstone
-That you are not a horrible person- He sold her, simply. Arianne almost fell of the chair she was sitting. She hadn't expected that either.
-What?- She managed to say, voice tense.
-My son always loved Robert. It would have been strange had it been any other way. My brother, before he gave himself completely to drinking and whoring, was a decent enough father. But he never got close to the queen. No matter what we told him, what she tried, Sirius was always weary of her and Joffrey. He even got along with Kingslayer and his dwarf brother, but never with their nephew and sister. He always had a sixth sense for people. He never recoiled for you, and I believe that had I forbidden him from talking to you, he would have rebel against me- And both of them knew it to be a certainty. He would have.
-There is also the fact that never, no matter how much Arthur begged him; Sirius would never skip a class, for three main reasons. The first, was because Maester Cressen gave said lessons, and he is like a grandfather to him, to Arthur and to Shireen. The second, was because he knew I would be disappointed in him if he did- Arianne had to smile, she just could control herself. It was true, of course. There was nothing Sirius was more scared off.
-Sirius hated nothing more that disappointing you or aunt Ashara-
-And the third, was because he was it as his duty, his determination to be the best lord possible. And yet, when no one else had succeeded on pulling him from his duty, you did every time. He could say not to you. He never wanted to say no to you. It always vexed me, until I truly understood it. It took me quite some time, until your last name day before he left for Highgarden- Arianne tensed a the mere mention of that placed. Highgarden, the hideous place where those who wanted nothing more than to gut every Martell alive lived, the Reachmen who thought themselves so high and mighty. To think that she had once considered marring Lord Mace Tyrell oldest son. Willas might have been a nice man, but he had nothing on Sirius, on his Starknight. Arianne despised Highgarden for more than jus the people that lived there. Had Sirius squired back in Dorne, to his uncle, he would have been safe, and with her. He would have been there for her, and he would have never had to suffer all he had endured. Going to Highgarden took him away of his family and his friends. And coming from them had killed him for nine years.
Arianne had had to control herself when Lord Tyrell had come to see Sirius's state, accompanied by the buffoon of his sons, the oaf of her wife, and that little flower-whore of Margery Tyrell. She had seen it on her eyes, the desire to steal his Starkinght form her. Dorne would freeze over before she allowed it. Sirius was of Dorne, and on Dorne he would stay.
She could see to the discomfort and anger that brought to Stannis the mere thought of Highgarden. Both of them despised the Tyrell, and both of them hated the mere idea of Sirius going back there, much less marring him into the family.
-You were in the water with you brother and your cousins. Arthur had joined you in the pools, but Sirius wouldn't go. He stood there, in the shadows, looking at you all, silent and unmoving. I was worried that somebody had upset him, until I saw his eyes. He looked at you from the distance, but I could see that he wanted to be next to you, to play with you, to pass time with you. But she didn't. Do you remember why?- she did, and it made her laugh
-He was ashamed of himself, because he used to be quite fat- It was true. He enjoyed sweets, blood oranges and cinnamon rolls too much. Yet he had never, no matter how little he had, refused to share with others. And now, for evey plum he had ever had, he had earned a hundred scars.
-And to think that know, he is….like this- She caressed his face, hardened and marked. He had changed in body. She only hoped that the change to his soul wasn't as severe.
-War changes people, battel changes the body- Stannis commented, a piece of wisdom Arianne knew well.
-He was also scared because Quentyn had yet again picked on him, and he had remained silent. But on his eyes, I saw… I don't know if I can describe it. Speaking of this is not my expertise. He saw you like….- The man struggled to get the words out, the introvert in him fighting for the right words and expression. But Arianne already knew what he was going to say, because she saw it on his eyes. And his eyes only shone like that when they were looking at one woman alone.
-Like you see Aunt Ashara. Like uncle Oberyn sees Aunt Ellaria- She said softly, the realization hitting her. The dumb idiot had fallen for her. It was something she already knew, of course, but she hadn't truly understood the depth of that statement. She felt a wave of strange relief, or unblemished happiness. He was his knight. Always had been.
-Yes. No matter when, how or why, seeing you smile was more than enough to content him. Seen you laugh was a gift to him, even if it wasn't with him. And I saw the same feeling in his eyes I saw in myself the first time Ashara and I spoke after the wedding. I saw fear of not being worthy of that smile, not being capable of electing that laugh. Fear of being unworthy of you… And that fear was enough to challenge anything else, his fears, his worries and his doubts, just to be there for you. He trusted you the moment he let eyes on you, the moment you saw each other. And that never changed. So yes you don't deserve to say you missed him. If I know him at all, he will have never forgotten you- that hurt Arianne even more. Because she knew it too. He would have never forgotten her.
-So, if you want forgiveness, don't ask him. Earn it. From him. He will need you in the future. I know that, because I have always needed Ashara. You have never liked me too much. I understood that, years ago. But you never meet me before my wife. She used to compare me with, and I quote, "a walking executioner´s block". She was right. And she changed that. She never gave up on me. Do not dare to give up again on my son, Princess Arianne, or you will regret it- His piece having been said, the Lord of Dragonstone stood there, listening to the mounting discussion outside
-You are wrong- Arianne said softly, moving yet another curl form Sirius's face. Stannis eyed her, warily.
-I do like you, uncle Stannis. Thank you- She said softly. Stannis froze for a moment, before nodding and bowing to her a little. He opened his mouth to say something, when the screams outside suddenly reached a new high. The second Baratheon frowned; hand on the pommel of his sword.
-Stay with him, Princess. Do not let anyone inside that you don't trust- He began to walk to the door to leave, before Arianne called him.
-Uncle Stannis- the man turned-What in the seven hells is going on out there?- The man grimaced, even more, and gave a single, hated answer.
-The Lannisters- He told her. And Arianne felt equal sides of anger and worry.
The blood was still fresh in the wall. It was the only good think in Joffrey´s day. It had all been ruined. He thrashed into his secret room, furious and seething in anger. It was his name day, and he had spoiled it! Again! His cousin always was there to spoil his fun and his little enjoyments. And what an enjoyment was to see knights maul each other to death in his glory. The spilling of blood, the pain, the lust for carnage in their eyes made him smile every time. And yet, what should have been his joyous day, had bene transform in Sirius´s joyous return.
The crown prince growled, and sat down on the metal chair in the middle of the dark room, its only entrance hidden in his own quarters. It had been his only safe place in his life where he could drop the facade of courteous prince and be who he was. And he enjoyed every moment of it. The old marks of blood on the walls where proof of it.
-You are quite angry- Whispered a voice in his ear. The prince did not move, knowing full well who was speaking. His teacher moved into view form a dark corner of the room, the skulls of a thousand animals dangling from his long black cape, made of from human skin, still moving with tortuous silent faces that seemingly tried to escape their eternal torment. They wouldn´t. His teacher enjoyed their pain way too much.
-Obviously, I am a furious- He growled-That nuisance of my cousin has seemingly returned. Even in death he was a pest. But know that he is back? This day was mine to enjoy! Mine to despoil! - He smashed his hand against a small table by his side, coved in ripped and broken nails.
-And he has taken even that from you, my prince, has he not? - The voice turned a little more somber, a little darker. Joffrey did not notice.
-I required gratification and relaxation, but I cannot get subjects inside the Keep now. That oaf of a father has tripled the guards. Getting racks inside would be impossible, and I am not kind on my father finding about my…"worship". He will not appreciate it- his master laughed at the comment, knowing full well that if the king found out about his son's experiment, he would kill him in the sport. The shadowy figured hummed to himself for a second, before moving to stand in front of the prince, his robes coiling and dancing to an unseen, macabre tone.
-Maybe the teachings of the Lord of Blood are inaccessible today, but the star has 8 points, my lord. And you have only touched upon 3 of said points- The darkness around the figure twirled and moved, and something hit the ground with a whimper –May I suggest another two different avenues to explore, one of which, you already enjoy?-
Joffrey eyed what had hit the ground. It was a whore, of golden hairs and green eyes, young and beautiful. But it wasn't what called to Joffrey. It was her face.
-Did you flesh-mold her? - He asked, aroused and feeling something inside of him that had bene dormant for a few years awake. He walked toward the whore, as she tire to take a step back, but the myriad of cuts and gashes on her arms, legs and torso made her scream and howl with every movement. It would not help. The room had powerful warding to make sure that no noise escaped it. Joffrey grabbed her from the hair an pulled her to her feet, drinking in her fear and pain, but more importantly, her face.
-Why yes, my student. It is good to see that you recognize the workings of my master. I thought it would be better. After all, the pleasure a man already knows are quite more pleasant that those he need to discover- Joffrey smiled before smashing the woman against one of his operation tables, and began to strip his pant off, grabbing the girl by the hair and pushing her bare chest against the table blood covered. The girl was utterly terrified, knowing full well what was about to happen, and yet, she knew that it would be even more horrible. She felt his hand trail her wounds, and she screamed when she felt his fingers dig into her fresh wounds. She screamed in pain, but she somehow knew that it was to no avail. Joffrey laughed, as he kept digging, enjoying of her howls and wounds, as fresh blood began to pool on the ground. He dig into a cut right under her left breast, and a howl of pain echoed in the room with a lot more strength that the Lannister had anticipated. Joffrey winced against such an expected noise, and it angered him, as it hurt his ears. With a growl, he took her head and smashed it against eh table, leaving the bleeding girl in pain and stunned. He cleaned his hands in his pants and turned to his master yet again.
-I suppose that she had already been implanted with the proper tunes?- he asked, throwing his pant away into a bloody pile of rags, and began to strap the girl to the table and took something form one of the cupboard.
-Of course, y student. I am, if anything, thorough. She will not die, at least not any time soon. And her sensitivity to pain has been increased for you enjoyment. I will leave now. Today´s development may require my more… immediate attention- that caught the blonde boy´s attention, and he turned towards his mater, not really caring that his member was hard and visible.
-Seriously? Is that dornish cousin of mine such a problem? I can have him dealt with…- the blonde girl began to whimper in pain, and Joffrey decided to give her a true reason to do so by using the object in his hands, and promptly lashed her across her unmarred back, the only place in her body she hadn´t been brutalized. New fresh blood and screams crashed against the walls –In no time, if he is such a threat- His master hummed absentmindedly before answering.
-I´m afraid my dear pupil, that you cannot. If he is who I believe him to be, you have nothing that will work on him- For any other man, those words would have been an insult. From his master, they were a warning and a lesson the blonde inbred took to heart.
-Then, what do you recommend…- another lash across the girls back produced more blood, pain and cries, and only made Joffrey´s manhood harder –I do?-
-Nothing for now, my boy. He is dangerous, but for now, I need to confirm my suspicions. Just keep your praises to the powers…and enjoy yourself with these measly gifts- Joffrey nodded, before asking the question that had been on his mind.
-Master- he dropped the lash and grabbed the girl by the hair and by the wounds and twisted skin of her back. She tried to scream, but Joffrey promptly grabbed some bloodied rags and stuffed them down her throat. The tears, he could not stop. Not that he wanted to –When…. - His master sighted before answering.
-My student, you crave on of the mot forbidden fruit of this world. Your own nature plays in your favor. Be a little more patient, and I shall give you my promised gift, and in return…- he left the phrase hanging on the air for his pupil to continue. Joffrey's eyes were fixed on dark forms lined on hooks on the wall in front of him. He realized that the girl was making no noise at all. He understood why, and smiled hungrily.
-And in return I shall give you this world, to you and the Dark Bother. Yes master. I will- The dark robbed figure nodded and disappeared in black smoke, leaving the blonde girl to Joffrey's cares. The prince passed hi hands gently thought her neck and face, before position himself to take her from behind, still pulling her hair, while he whispered to her.
-So you have seen them, eh? Don't worry. You will not join them yet. I have to play with you first- the girl was truly scared, fear gipping her heard, and tears fell down he face in silence.
-You see, there is just one I thing I crave, but sadly, is one of the few things I won't be allowed to have. A pity, really, to be a prince and be denied the only thing I really want- He cared her bleeding ass cheek.
-Is not something essential, no. it's just a… very specific toy. No matter how much I try to recreate it, how many of you I try to craft all of you into her… I just can´t. It's not the same ting to take you that it was to take her…. But you will satiate me for now…or so should you hope. Because if you don't… well- His hand grabbed the left side of the ass roughly, nails digging in the wounds, electing more tears and muffled screams. –You will join them, as it is natural, the resto of my "failed attempts."- He remove the gag from her mouth.
-So please, do scream. At the very least, you can copy that form her- and with those words, Joffrey thrusted forward into her, maidenhood, and while Joffrey realized to his upmost delight, that he had been wrong in calling her a whore, the blonde girl´s sight filed with blood, white hot pain, a guilty and strangely overwhelming pleasure, and the face that the monster had given her, the face that every one of the broken and sewn together bodes that were now looking back at her, hanging form the upper side of the wall in for nog her had. Her same eyes and hair, the same features….. as those of the small girl in the only normal thing in the cursed room, a family drawing of three siblings. One girl, two boys, all of them of golden hair and green eyes. And she knew who she was men to replace. And could only think, among all the pain and shame and hate.
"What kind of monster is this?" Then, her pain multiplied, and everything went white.
When his uncle Oberyn entered the room accompanied by his lady paramour, unscathed and without a drop of blood almost an hour later, Arianne allowed herself to breath. Oberyn saw it and smiled t her reassuringly.
-I thought someone was waging a war on the other side of that door. What did the lion-fuckers want? - Oberyn began to laugh, until his eyes feel on the resting figure on the bed. And Arianne realized it was the first time her uncle had seen the scars. Ellaria gasped as she rushed tot Sirius´s side, checking him up and down with care. Oberyn moved slowly, watching in silence.
-A lot of these scars aren't just battle scars, these ones- he signaled some on his back and arms-are from sharp knives, these are torture marks- Arianne eyes her aunt with some surprise. And then she remembered that her aunt hailed from the Hellholt. Their reputation was on par to the Bolton.
-And I can see patches of skin burned, and not just with fire. Someone used acid- Oberyn said, his hands trailing toward Sirius´s left side. Arianne´s hands were clenched in angry fist. Somebody would pay for this, dearly.
-Somebody wanted to make him suffer. Somebody made him suffer- Ellaria said, taking a cloth from the table beside the bed and began to cool his face. He had a fever, but Arianne had been warned by the master that the wound might get infected, so if they felt him warm, they had to cool him down. She got beside her and helped.
-And somebody is going to suffer for this. To hurt a child like this…If I get my hands on that fucking Greyjoy, he will know true pain- Oberyn said simply. Yet his eyes held o murderous glint that had always managed to make Arianne shiver
-Uncle, what did the Lannisters want? - Asked the Princess carefully. The Red Viper eyed her for a second, probably gauging how she would react, before answering.
-The Queen insisted that our Starknight should be thrown out of the Red Keep, and the City, for being too dangerous and unpredictable. She also said that the best place to keep him should be the Black Cells- The venom on the Prince of Dorne´s voice was unmistakable.
-She is welcomed to try- Ellaria whispered-Over our dead bodies- Arianne could help but agree. If that hag wanted to touch Sirius, she would have to draw a lot of dornish blood.
-She won't. Stannis told her, in a number of ways, the same thing. Sirius is safe for now. I worry more about his health and getting up, that what those golden shitstains might be planning- Arianne nodded at his uncle words.
-Do you mind if I have a look at his scars, sweet niece?- he asked. Arianne nodded; and Oberyn and Ellaria began to inspect him. Oberyn found knife marks, marks made by animal, tearing of hooks, lashing, burning and even marks of insects. He saw a thousand different marks on his skin, but what drew his attention the most was a single symbol that had been burnt in his skin, probably with a hot iron. It was complex, and very well made. He had seen marks like these in Essos, but those were crude in comparison with this one. It was a Roaring dragon, wings spread, a dawning sun behind it, in a sky full of stars.
-I wonder what this means- he said with a half-smile, it was beautiful.
-So do I- Arianne said-it was hard to hide it form the queen and king- Ellaria looked at the symbol mesmerized.
-You don't think this is a Targaryen symbol, right?- She asked, worried. Arianne shook her head.
-Targaryen dragons have three heads, and there is a sun and stars. So I believe this might be a symbol from wherever he has been these last years, or something else, maybe a….-
-Personal sigil? Many houses do that, although is most common in Essos and Volantis- Said Oberyn, eying the symbol with care.
-But why a dragon?- Questioned Arianne –Why a symbol so close with the Targaryen, and not a Stag?- It made no sense to them.
-We will ask him when he wakes up- Ellaria said simply. Arianne note the "when" and not the "if" everyone else had been using. He would wake up.
-Uncle, please, tell father that I will stay with Sirius tonight. I don't feel comfortable leaving him alone- She said. Oberyn eyed her, with a raised eyebrow.
-I don´t think your father will like it, but I also think he will not mind to terribly much. I will help to convince him. Rest now, little sunflower. Keep him safe- Her aunt left to get her some clothes to sleep in.
-Always, uncle. Always-
Thoros spent, for the first time since he had left the Red Temple, a whole night in prayer, so the nephew of Beric would survive. He did because the boy was a good kid, because Beric was worried, and he had called his wife to the capital, and he also knew that Lady Ashara was beyond worried. But there was also another reason. For the first time in a long time, he had faith in what he was doing. That boy, no, that man, had fought something from beyond life and death, and with faith, sacred flame and iron will, had prevailed. It had inspired him so much, that he had not even doubted to jump to the fray to save the boy, and not only because it was Beric´s nephew, but because his words had brought him a fire he had believed, not just extinct, but never lighted.
-As long as I stand, justice will prevail- He whispered. Words alone wouldn't have brought him back to his unkindled faith, but the actions that had accompanied those words… That, was true faith. So he prayed, all night, for eh boy that had listened to him, for the man that had brought his faith back, and for the dream of hope he represented.
-Lead us from the darkness, O my Lord. Fill our hearts with fire, so we may walk your shining path. R'hllor, you are the light in our eyes, the fire in our hearts, the heat in our loins. Yours is the sun that warms our days, yours the stars that guard us in the dark of night- Thoros expected no response, no answer, yet a single woman spoke back from the other side of the small temple to the Red God.
-Lord of Light, defend us. The night is dark and full of terrors. Lord of Light, protect us- And she actually said it in perfect valyrian. He blinked, thinking that it might have been one of the red priestess. But he saw no red garb, but clean water blue, so he simply focused back onto the prayer, thinking it was just some of the noble woman who had recently joined the cult of the Red God. It was not surprising that she was there after all, as many had run to the temples and septs and weirwoods, seeking solace and answers to what they had seen today. And as far as Thoros knew, the common folk had already begun to adore the Amber Knight, the Grail knight that had fought a monster and saved them, roaring words of purity and zeal. He also knew that the High Priestess sent to the city was having a long discussion with the High Septon about that too, some matter of faith. Still, it was quite late, very late, for a woman of wealth to be in the temple of a foreign good. Not that it was his damn business.
-R'hllor who gave us breath, we thank you. R'hllor who gave us day, we thank you- And so came the answer again.
-We thank you for the sun that warms us. We thank you for the stars that watch us. We thank you for our hearths and for our torches, that keep the savage dark at bay- he prepared to intone the next line, but the voice cut him off again.
-R´hollor, let you light shield us, R´hollor, let your flame protect us. Give us the zeal and the fire, and make us your instrument in this land. R´hollor, call to us when he, the Prince who was Promised arrives, when the light of Azor Ahai shines, and the dawn he brings burns the evil from the Darkness, for the night is dark and full of terrors- She had changed from valyrian to something else in the middle of the prayers. something Thoros did not know, and wasn't supposed to understand, and yet he understood none the less. But that wasn't what made him draw steel, it was the fact that that prayer was only known to the red priests, and only uttered in the confines of the Red Temple. And somehow, this woman knew it.
This was the first time Thoros had a chance to look at her. And by the Red God, she was breathtaking. Long black hair that seemed to turn gold in the edges, eyes of the deepest blue, and the purest gold at the same time, and a beauty from another world completely. She was no normal woman, that was for sure. Her blue dress seamed to morph to green when he wasn't looking at it directly, and she was holding a wooden cup in her hand. Her feet seemed to almost float as she walked, and a slight mist surrounded her with every step.
-I don't know who you are or….- The woman giggled, before caressing the edge of his steel ,and the blade erupted in golden flames. Thoros almost dropped the blade, scared out of his mind. He looked in disbelief at his sword, while the woman smiled, and with a finger, put the flames out.
-Now, Priest Thoros of Myr, you do seem willing to listen to me, don´t you?- The Myrish simply stared, falling to his knees.
-Who, and what are you?- He said simply, grasping the symbol of his god in his hands ,his faith still strong, his courage not so much. The woman sat beside him and smiled.
-Someone who knows your god very well. Someone how has deemed fit to answer to your prayers- That, angered Thoros. His prayers were meant to one god only, and not… not this being.
-My god...- He began.
-Is disinterested, uncaring and merciless. He lets you wallow in the misery of your life, never showing any appreciation, never showing any guidance, never doing much for you. Tell me, red priest, when was the last time you heard of your god? When was the last time he gave you a command? All the gods in this land are worthless of worship, filled to the brim with hubris, and with envy, only wanting to surpass the others, to rule supreme. They remind me of my own kin. Thank the stars I decide to be better- Now, the woman´s eyes were filled with golden fire, and the chalice in her hand shone with light like it was made of pure gold, the blue from her dress bleaching to a pure white.
-Are you.. Are you a goddess? - The woman laughed, a musical sound that cured any aliment he had before, any doubt that had plagued him.
-No, dear Thoros- She caressed his cheek, smiling down at him-I am no goddess, or at the very least I don't consider myself as such. I am a protector, a guardian, although there are those who pray to me, and I listen gladly. But no other god will ever consider me one of them. Those you humans pray to, consider me a foreigner, an intruder, a threat, and those I used to belong to, cast me down, and still seek my downfall. But even after eons, I stand by my choice, for history has proven it was the right one-
-Which….which choice? - Asked the stunned priest. The woman smiled again, eyes glittering with entertainment, and some degree of sadness.
-You, were the choice, you were the thing I choose- Thoros blinked, not understanding.
-Me…a priest? I don´t think I follow- The woman giggled, before pulling him gently to his feet. Thoros followed the motion, not knowing what to do.
-Let me show you then. I think this will make a better explanation- The man nodded, confused, and the woman then took his hands, and the mist surrounded them. When the mist cleared, he was no longer on the temple, but on a hill, and that hill was overlooking a massive battlefield. Thoros feel to his knees, dread completely overtaking him. Rows after rows of monstrosities advanced, in a massive tide of corruption, decay, bloodshed and entropy. Monster that defied reality, dragons transformed, changed, heads mutilated still moving in their own accord, what looked like direwolves, but more human, more deviant, more terrifying. Row after row of red scale, sword wielding blood creatures, those that looked like men and woman fused, their extremities made into cruel pincers and alluring forms made into traps for the soul. Masses of rot, decay, death and pestilence moved among them, creatures of never ending decomposition and rust. And other monstrosities made of pure change, never stopping, taking colors that did not exist, and that he could not comprehend. He looked the great city, cowering in fear beside the massive tide, and, as they fell upon the people inside, and as their screams began to echo, the vision changed.
Now he was on a great and vast desert, atop a rock formation that overlooked some kind of valley, but not alone. Wave after wave of skeletal worries adorned in gold, gems and jewels advanced, unending, unstoppable, tireless. Among them, great constructs of stone and ebony, fuel by energies unseen, lead them against what looked like men and woman, scared and huddled around the remains of their caravan, and like before, just before they managed to strike, the vision changed again.
This one was the most terrifying of them all. He was standing in the middle of a clearing in the forest, made of cut trees leading into a city. And in front of him, armies of death advanced, bodies rotting and decaying, animated by baleful magic's that should not exits, given will not their own. A travesty of what the lord of light was supposed to give its followers. The creatures of hell that moved among the ranks made his heart skip a beat. Gigantic hairy behemoths that reminded him of bats crossed with elephants, and human crossed with bats, deformed, pale, of red manes and horrible and bulged muscles and teeth. And atop all of this death, sat a man, bald, eyes gleaming like rubies, evil simply radiation of his very being, in one hand a strange hook, while in the other a sword, and under him, a dragon of flesh, rot, bones and death. At his command, the forces stopped in unisonous silence, and with the next order, and a sadistic smile, he told them to advanced forwards, running towards him, the greater creatures killing the reanimated husk in their desire to kill, to eat, to feed. A formation of red clade warrior lead the advance, so reminiscent to the one he had seen that day, in the arena, but while the man of the arena he had seen no nobility, just anger, here the bloodlust was given discipline and training, and was unleashed against him. He fell to his knees yet again, and just at the lance of the first knight reached to skewer him, he closed his eyes.
And then the clarion´s call broke the cacophony, a clean sound that seemed to dispel the darkness. Thoros blinked and then, and saw it. Knights, by the hundreds, with more banners and sigils that he could have ever dreamed of, advancing in a line of determined fury and brave men, or martyr blood and willing sacrifice. The wall of steel, courage and chivalry, outnumbered 10 to 1, did not stop, did not slow down, but charged forward, surging though enemy lines, multiple wedge formations smashing undead aside like the broken husk they were. Thoros felt hope rise in his heart, as he wanted to join the fray. Winged stallions, Pegasus, and hippogryph took to the skies, winning the aerial battle, to then came down to help their fellows. It was glorious, a wave of purity and chivalry that burned the corruption away. This fire cleansed. It did not consume or scarred those it is burn, but help them, as the light of these knights pierced even the darkest shadows, the most profound darkness. They were saint among men, the epitome of knighthood, and he could not help but to admire those men. And it that second, in that instance, he understood the choice, and wept at the revelation.
Among all of it, he saw them. Two men, one seasoned, one younger. He knew the young one, young Sirius, strapped in plate armor, with a flaming sword in one hand and a hammer in the other, swinging around, killing foes by the scores, while the older man, a much experienced fighter, a holy warrior-king, cleaved his way, both protecting each other, a duo of fury and zeal that annihilated anything in their way. The man was a little taller than Sirius, with black long hair inside the war crown, and he was the definition of regal and kingly, with shining blue eyes. And he led the knights with blade in hand, in the middle of line. The image disappeared, and Thoros found himself back to the temple, blade drawn, trembling.
-I understand- His voice was the only thing that did not tremble, as he placed his blade back into the sheath –I understand the choice, but not why- he finished. The Lady smiled at him.
-Because you humans are so easily corrupted, so easily tempted. You have no supernatural abilities, no immortality, no long live, no natural gift. Everything you have, you have earned. Everything you own, you have conquered, and everything you learn has marked you. And yet you do not relent, always forwards, always fighting. And even so, there are those among you who prefer to die than to give up, when it could be so easy. You have nothing, and yet you strive to take all you can. You can be so easily turned, and yet, you can reach a level of nobility, of faith, of selflessness that I never thought possible. How can I not admire you? And how can I not choose you? - He took Thoros´s hands in his, the trembling of the red priest hands stopping instantly.
-How can I not love the knights how stand against everything impure just because it's the right thing to do? To protect who they cherish? To fulfill their duty?- He kissed him in the forehead.
-I just can't, my dear Thoros. And so, I do not stop myself from loving humanity. So I love you. Maybe not all of you, there will always be those who value darkness above anything else, that turn to greed, lust and power when there are more important thing to defend, but I love none the less. And I will come to the aid of those that seek it and are worthy of it. But now, I need your help, warrior of light. My champion, needs your aid- She handed him the wooden chalice.
-Will you help him, Sir Thoros of Myr? - And the man simply kneeled.
-Of course, my Lady-
Welp. Here we go, chapter two up. I'm loving how this is shaping up.
Yep, Joffrey is even more of a cunt…..and a very dangerous cunt this time around. Can any of you guess what does he want?
Thoros having a more active paper with the Lady was actually one of the first ideas I had. I just loved the idea of turning him to the Lady…and there will be more gods asking for worship….. Any guesses, anyone?
Take care people, keep your blade sharp and keep safe.