The Dragon of Starfall

by Primarch Amaranth

The words of House Dayne are quite simple: "We Bring the Dawn". And the Dawn will be needed for the coming storm. A thousand battlefields have prepared a long-lost son for what is to come, but while he may withstand the hell to come, will Westeros? Will his family? But against the monsters that lurk in the dark, he is not alone. After all: For those We protect, We will Sacrifice.

4. Chapter 4 Old Friends, New Foes

Hello, my friends! I hope you are all well and dandy, blades sharp and hungry for more. This next chapter….is a little longer than anticipated…..and that is after I cut it in two. I know I promised some OCs, but…. Things got carried away. I'm kind of afraid of this chapter because I placed a lot of ASOIAF characters in it, and I do not know if I captured them well enough, so please, tell me if you find a problem with any of them. This one is kind of intense, and holds little moments in between that should begin to give you an idea of how things are going to develop, and maybe give a little characterization. Now, the serious business:

Magic.

I've had some hours of research and mediation about magic. It will be quite impressive when magic from different worlds find each other on the field of battle. Things will get interesting, to say the least. Magic in every world works differently. For Warcraft, Mana, runes and similar forms of energy are varied and different, but if Warcraft is hard, Warhammer Fantasy is a pain. Magic can go from the simplest spell, to cataclysm-inducing magic. And others can be even more ridiculous or varied. You will have a small taste today, but next chapter, there will be true magic.

Now, reviews:

Crazzytony: Thank you very much! The spell-check is of great help. You wouldn't be wrong about our knight…. He is top of the list on power. But then again, it won't be enough against what is coming after him…..not by a long shot. Cersei is going to be Cersei, all right, but wait for it; she has a few cards to play herself. And our mysterious savior? Well, here he comes.

The Last Kenpachi: The Black Blade of Antwyr, sword entrusted to Castellan Garran Crowe of the Grey Knights Chapter, Purifier Brotherhood. And one hell of a weapon. Quite literally, actually. Do not worry, you will get an explanation on why it is here, and why it acts as it acts. And we will have many more legendary weapons.

Janny092: why, thank you so much! Feels good when people like what I do. Oh, it's going to be wild, that much I can promise you. I have half a dozen scenarios in my mind as we speak, and all I need is to actually sit down and write them. The Lady actually isn't in Westeros though. Last Chapter it was Meridia, the aedra of Sunlight and Destroyer of the Undead. It´s going to be hard to differentiate so many gods, but don't worry, I'll make it easier in the future. Enjoy! About the warriors of Sigmar Heldenhammer, do not worry, they will make quite the entrance, as will the sons of Grimnir.

Well, folks, enjoy! Remember, feel free to ask, or even suggest things if you are more lore nerd than me! Ideas are always appreciated! Stay safe, may the Lady watch over you and keep your Blades sharp!

PD: Also, I hope you enjoy the sneak-peak at the end of the chapter!

Stannis Baratheon was not a patient man. He had of course learned the value of patience, from his father, Steffen Baratheon, from the man that had acted as such later on, Maester Cressen, and from his wife, as unlikely as that seems to most people. But patience wasn't what characterized Stannis.

It was duty, iron-will, strength, Baratheon fury, and an unyielding determination.

Stannis Baratheon had been called the Iron Stag for a reason. But he was aware of what his men called him when he didn't look. In most armies, in most lands, any sane man would have wanted his soldiers to not speak behind his back. Stannis wanted the same at first. He had told Davos as much when the man had told him of the nickname his men were using with him after the battle of Fair Isle. But Stannis hadn´t been really thinking then. He had seen Victarion´s command ship and had charged with his Stag Knights and the Knights of Starfall, the Silver Stars, right towards it. After they had surrounded the fleet, he had cleared 5 whole vessels in his attempt to reach the Greyjoýs vessel, the heart of their armada. He had cut soldiers and raiders left and right, followed close by Sandor, the Red Priest, and Beric Dondarrion. He had arrived at the vessel, only to find a furious Victarion Greyjoy finishing one of his boarding parties. And they had fought.

He had almost died 7 times.

Almost.

Victarion´s greataxe had left scars in his back and chest that to this day still made his wife worry. But he had won the duel. It was after when Victarion had recognized him, and without him saying a single thing (he could barely breath, much less talk at the moment) had told him:

"The little one was as ferocious as you when my brother took him to Pyke. He was alive last time I saw him, and defiant. Euron promised to break him. I hope my brother fails. He is a failure in most things"

That was the sole reason Victarion Greyjoy was left alive, that little show of compassion and warrior pride. The soldiers already murmured that nickname back then. It was when Davos had first told him about it. But he had refused to elaborate further, stating he had more important things to focus on. It wouldn't be until the Siege of Pyke, where he led the charge through the gates broken by the Stormlanders siege weapons where the nickname was cemented. Stannis would always say he remembered little of that day. He remembered blood, guts and dying men. He remembered the dread creping through him as every ironborn on his blade was a lost moment to go get his son. But he remembered the soldiers chanting, their roar echoing in the tempest that had struck the island the moment he had stepped a foot through the humbled walls.

"Stormbringer! Stormbringer"

Stannis Baratheon, the Stormbringer. None of his men would say that name to his face. But if they did, he wouldn´t have cared. He knew they didn´t it out of respect, for the day he had earned it was the day he had lost a son. But now that he was back, he had caught conversations where he was referred to as the "Stormbringer".

-You never told me why they call me that- Stannis said, turning a page of the book he was reading. He didn't remember taking it or even opening it, but the last hour had been extremely frenetic. Davos raised his head from the table, where he had almost fallen asleep.

-Sire? - He asked, still slow of mind because of the lack of sleep, rest, food, and the wine.

-Stormbinger. I never learned why they call me that- He turned a new page. A book about the Great Houses of Westeros? Why would Lord Arryn ask him to read it, and read the chapter of House Baratheon? He ground his teeth at the situation. How much Ashara hated that. It had been a while since he had done it. What was the objective of Lord Arryn? Distract him of his dying son? Or was there something else?

-Oh- Davos said, scanning the bottom of his empty cup, before taking a more proper posture –The storm at the Battle of Fair Isle, and the one that hit Pyke the moment we arrived. The men said that you had brought the Storm all the way from Storm´s End to bring vengeance on House Greyjoy. They thought you had become, in your rage, an embodiment of the old Storm God himself. So they called you that, Stormbringer- he chuckled-I found it quite appropriate myself- Stannis took his eyes off the book to stare at Davos. The old smuggler opened his mouth to explain, closed it, and opened it again. He let out a sigh, and finally, explained.

-My lord, those days….you, were the storm. On the battlefield and out of it, speaking to other lords and giving orders. You gave commands with such a voice that you could be heard over the gale of the tempest above. It was intimidating and very inspiring. The image of a man that had stolen the rage of the gods themselves to save his son. The storm seemed to bow to your whims. It shattered Greyjoy ships, forts and soldiers, but never ours. It didn't matter how hard the wins roared, you never seemed to lose your footing or be caught off guard. It was something from legend and myth. So I found it a proper nickname- Stannis stared into the Onion Knight´s face for a few seconds, an act that would have unnerved almost anyone else. But Davos was used to it now. He simply stared back, waiting.

-I feel useless- Stannis decreed, closing the book, resting his back against the chair –My daughter cries herself to sleep in her mother´s arms, my second son can barely contain his anger and self-loathing and feels just as useless as me, and my eldest child is in his deathbed, a few days after returning. What do I do Davos? - There was sincerity in his words Davos had not expected. The man was truly desperate. He felt truly lost. He may not communicate such pain with his stance and looks, but Davos saw through the charade. Stannis was tired.

-With all due respect, sire, you are not good at consoling children. You are not good at giving advice against self-loathing, and you are no maester. The only thing you can do is be there. Maya would say the same thing if she was here. You children don't need the words and wisdom of Stannis Baratheon, the Iron Stag. They just need their father. Sparring with Arthur yesterday helped him a great deal, but little Shireen needs his father. But, right now, there is someone who needs you even more- Stannis was not a fool. He knew that already.

-My wife-

-Yes, sire. She needs you the most, because she cannot cry in front of anyone, but you. She needs to look strong and resolute in front of anyone but a few, and only you can help her right now- Stannis nodded slowly. He knew strength. He knew resolution.

He had been strong when his brother had left, leaving the totality of the management of the Stormlands to a young and still heartbroken Stannis and Maester Cressen. That was the first time. It was not the last. But Stannis was a dutiful man. So he had always delivered.

He had been strong when his brother started the Rebellion, and sent a raven telling him to hold Storm´s End, no matter the cost. He had been extremely resolute during the siege of his home, eating moldy bread, rotten rats, and every mascot in the castle, holding the Tyrell forces at bay, while they feast just outside of his walls. He had been resolute when his men had been ready to revolt against him, and he had also been patient when his men had begged them to eat the dead.

He had been resolute as the siege drained them of everything, and he had also been resolute when Ser Davos has arrived with his dried onions. He had continued to be resolute as his little brother screamed at him where Robert was, why he was so hungry and why he had let his men kill and eat his cats. He had endured with determination and strength until finally, Eddard Stark had arrived to lift the siege and not Robert, and he had been resolute in shutting his mouth when the congratulations and thanks had gone yet again to Stark. He had been resolute as he suffered Robert´s wrath when taking Dragonstone from the Targaryens had left few dead amongst his forces, but the two children had escaped.

He had silently raged as Robert stripped him from his castle and lands, of his title as Paramount, and had confined him to that black rock island and dragon-shaped castle, for crimes he had not committed. He had even endured the marriage proposal that his brother had thrown at his face with a Florent woman, stating that "It was a generous reward for his efforts".

He had always been resolute. And patient.

Patient with his brother´s excesses, patient with Renly´s scheming and utter lack of sense of duty. Patient with lord Stark´s request, patient with a woman that had for most of their earliest times together, hated him with a passion he could very well understand. He had been patient with his wife and when he had learned of her pregnancy, he had been a lot more than just patient. He had been patient while he had waited for his son to be born, he had patiently told all of his lord´s nurses and Cressen to go to the Seven Hells when they had asked him to stay out of the room. He had endured patiently his wife´s pain, his newborn son´s cries, and the wait until he had first seen him, seen his purple eyes and his black messy hair.

Patience and Duty.

He had patiently and dutifully vowed to love that boy as he himself had never been loved.

He had patiently and dutifully raised his little boy and watch his two other children be born, he had patiently seen them live, cry, make mistakes, triumph and make friends and rivals. He had let them be themselves, while making sure duty remained important in their minds.

He had endured his wife's pain and cries as they had desperately worked to save Shireen from greyscale, to keep their daughter alive. He patiently listened to the suggestion of sending his daughter to the stone men, and patiently sent them, again, all to the Seven Hells.

He had been resolute, patient and dutiful when he followed Robert´s command of sending his boy, his firstborn, the son he loved the most, as much as it hurt a father to admit such a thing, to the Tyrells. He had patiently suffered his wife´s anger and the Martell´s disapproval (not that he had really cared for that last part). He had even patiently listened to Ser Davos´s council on the matter. He had patiently listened to Robert and his wife when they had told him that Sirius had been taken. That broke the calm.

And it brought the fury

He had been furious when he crushed Victarion Greyjoy´s fleet. He had furiously shattered Pyke´s walls, slaughtered the defenders, broken Balon Greyjoy´s arm and leg with his bare hands and demanded to know where his boy was.

He had even been furious when the man had laughed in his face and told him what they had done to his child. He had been furious as he endured the trial of Greyjoy, under his own request, to be put to death for his crimes, and choked that fury as he mourned.

So Stannis once again had endured.

He had endured at his son´s funeral, as he could not stop his other children from crying and his wife´s pain. He had endured when his brother had given the verdict that Balon would be spared, as he had somehow convinced every noble there that he had not known of Sirius´s suffering and capture until the end of the siege, for his brother Euron had not told him anything about it. He stated that ironborn do not torture children. He had listened and endured how Mace Tyrell spoke for the man, stating that his crimes were only those of secession and rebellion. But, when Robert had told him of the pardon and the order of bringing Euron´s head to him, he had almost let the fury out again. Thankfully for Robert´s ego and nose, Ashara had been there. And she had more patience than him. He had cried with her nonetheless. He hadn't cried since.

For nine years, the fury had been contained. For nine years, fury, resolution, determination, and endurance had been coming and going, as he raised two other hurt, but great and beloved children, lived with a woman he could say he truly and wholly loved, and friends he trusted.

But, the fury had come back when his son had appeared in the arena, when those monsters had tried to kill him, and when the queen had demanded for his son to be taken from the castle for being too dangerous.

Stannis realized that there was a Stannis that had not returned back from Pyke. The father.

He had died with Balon words. And Stannis had buried him on those cursed islands, because the pain of the father in him made him slow, made him emotional. And his children needed strength. That much he knew. With time, fragments of that part of him had come back. But not the whole deal. He wasn't a bad father, that much he knew. He cared, he loved, and he taught. He was stricter than most, he was harsher than most. Mainly, because he cared more than most. Maybe, he should have cared….in a different way. He had left the father in him on the ashes of his son's funeral pyre. And a part of him didn't know if it was better to keep them there. He did not deserve to be a parent after having failed as he had failed. But right now, he needed to be. So to Seven Hells with what he thought.

The Lord of Dragonstone rose from his chair.

-Mistakes, Ser Davos. One´s measure for learning-

-Indeed my lord-

{DRAGON OF STARFALL}

Ashara Dayne clutched her daughter closer to her, fear roaring in her ears behind the blades and shields of Sandor Clegane and several Knights of Starfall, and what remained of the Lannister soldiers sent to "escort" her and her daughter to the queen, although they were more interested in keeping themselves alive than anything else. The two orbs of unreal fire in the dust cloud still bore into her, as the Manticore Knight tried to get up and draw his blade, failing, terrified as he was.

The dust moved in waves in the air, before suddenly parting when something, or better, someone, came through it. And relief hit her like a wave when she saw her son´s face, smiling at her kindly, eyes shining like bonfires. He didn't utter a word; he simply entered the room and smiled at her. She smiled back at the now color-filled face, the bright eyes, and slightly messy hair, at the features so like, and at the same time, unlike, her own. She extended a hand to her wonderful son, to the boy that came back to see her. Sandor relaxed and lowered his blade to the ground, sporting the smallest of smiles and relief obvious on his eyes, as the rest of the knights lowered their own blades and shields, smiles and faces of surprise visible on their ranks.

Shireen did not move, eyes fixed on her brother, the word still ringing on her lips. This angered Ashara. That brat hadn´t even saluted her son! She should be thankful to him! Prostrate herself to her wonderful boy! But there she remained, pulling her back from her lovely son, eyes full of something she could not quite pinpoint. She frowned at her daughter´s attitude. She would be punished for this, of course, his son deserved….

-Mother- Her daughter's voice cut through her mental rant like a hot knife, bringing her attention back to her daughter. She blinked the last motions of punishment and glorified anger off her mind, leaving room for the disgust she fell at her own thoughts. Had she really thought that? To punish her daughter for that? Her little girl? She was simply scared, that was all… until she looked at her eyes, to the shining blue, pure and clear, fearless, like a clear sky. She saw a lot of things. Worry, surprise, shame, and disgust.

But she was not afraid.

-Demon- She whispered to her. Something in her mind screamed at the word, at the notion, at the idea. Demon. That word sent every inch of her body in full alert, as she scanned the room in search of what had scared her daughter. She regained her composure and looked at her son, and before she could beckon him to get closer, to join them so they could find the monster, she saw something in her son´s eyes. Or it would be more precise to say, the lack of something.

Mothers, no matter the reality, world, realm, or kind, can see things and sense things in their children that no other can. May it be simple instinct, magic, or some hiding law of the world, the fact is they can detect things that bother their children, or that alter their behavior. The thing that was wearing his son´s smile, eyes, face, and hair, was missing the only thing Ashara cared for.

His soul.

And the moment she realized that the illusion broke. In front of her was no Sirius, no son of hers, but a creature brought forth from the nightmares of abominations that should have never even been born. Its skin was wrinkled and thin, devoid of color, a pale grey of bleached memories, almost sickly in tone. It walked on all fours, angled arms holding its frame, no distinction in between them, 11 clawed fingers finishing each hand, all of them placed forwards bare three of them, placed backward, ready to rend the flesh and crush meat. It was big, maybe some 5 meters long, with no tail, and two wide, a slithering figure, that looked too thin to be able to move as it did. It had one leg on the ceiling, and the rest in between the floor and the walls, cracking and scrapping stone and mortar under its impossible strength. It looked almost famished, a starving monster that had no mouth to feed itself. Tentacles writhed behind it, in a swirling mass that move with a sense of wrongness she could not shake. Its face was smooth, nothing on it, a bulb the size of her torso devoid of even a single mark. No eyes, no nose, no orifices or sensory organs. It was terrifying the fact that it was looking at her nonetheless.

-Sandor!- She commanded. Maybe it was the urgency of her words, her fear, the trembling hands, or the pure disgusts on her daughter´s eyes, but the Loyal Hound answered, dauntless as ever, stepping in front of them, blade drawn and pointed at the monster. If he could see it or not, she could not say. Not that I mattered. The beast did not react, staring eyelessly at her. It took a step forward.

Until her daughter took one of her own, moving faster than Ashara, and stood in front of the beast. Sandor was so focused on the monster that he didn't notice her until she spoke.

-No- She said, softly at first, her white dress cooked with dust. The creature looked at her and tried to take another step. Ashara opened her mouth to speak, moved to grasp her daughter, but Shireen was faster.

-No!- She said firmly this time. The creature stopped again. It cooked it head to the side, looking almost curious, before trying for a third time.

Shireen´s eyes almost gleamed in the Baratheon blue, hands and arms to her side, before speaking with all her might. The air rippled, and to Ashara´s eyes, the white in her clothes seemed to bleach, to reach a new level of purity.

-NO!- the creature took its step. Backward. It crouched to a hunting position, tentacles aiming at Shireen, wary. This did nothing to dissuade the daughter of the Iron Stag, who took another step, before proclaiming, in the voice of a child that knows she stands against the impossible, yet she won't surrender. A child with a dream that beats fear.

-Back! This is not your place! You are wrong! Back!- She spoke, no, she ordered the beast, who took another step back, the purity and determination of the innocent child in front of it anathema to its whole being. So the beast sought to end it, its tentacles rearing once again for a strike, until it felt something on one of its members. It suddenly raised its head in concern, trying to pinpoint what was going on.

Too late.

Something yanked the beast backward, making it a blur that proceeded to smash itself against the rock wall, sending ripples along the entire floor of the keep, clouding Ashara's view again with dust and broken stone. She grasped her daughter and pulled her back, of them trembling in fear. Something else moved in the dust and smoke.

{DRAGON OF STARFALL}

-Do you think he is dead? - Asked the Young Lion, his golden hair covered in dirt and dust, his gleaming armor broken and stained with blood. The older man let out a laugh.

-This world will die before he does. When the End comes, he will be there, alone, that blade of his in hand, defiant to the very last drop of blood. He never was one to die easily. Not even when they actually killed him- the Young Lion nodded, before drawing his blade, the legacy of his father, the old Wolf, etched on its edge.

-I wish, that if that day comes, we will be able to stand with him, one last time- He planted the blade in the ground, looking at the blue and white banner in front of them –I wish he had stayed here- his he said in a softer tone. The older man placed a hand on his shoulder, patting him in the back.

-He delivered us from some of the greatest threats to our world. He, and those like him. I do not know what your father saw in him when he came to him in his throne room, but he was vindicated in the end. I would have killed them all- The golden-haired prince smiled.

-He almost did- He remembered that day, the eyes of the purest blue he had ever seen, a mixture of contempt, self-loathing, shame, and pain. The last time he had seen those eyes, he had smiled, determination flashing over pain.

-There was an aura around him… like if he wanted to, he could defy gods- the older man passed a hand through his greying hair.

-Well, he did fight a few gods, or so I was told. And Death itself too- He sighed, straightening his back a little, as the banner suddenly came alive with the might of the wind.

-I promised him I would be a good king, you know? That was the last thing he asked of me before leaving. I told him I would try my best. I wish I had told him…something else. Anything else- His eyes fell to the ground, the armor feeling twice as heavy now.

-Like what?- Asked the other man, in a fatherly tone.

-Like he was like a brother to me. That I looked up to him. That father looked at him like a son, and it bothered me, for a long time. That I was thankful for all he had done in these last years, for saving my life so many times, for fighting for all the right reasons. For beating monster after monster. For even when furious at me, coming to my rescue all those years ago- The Young Lion took a knee -I would have liked to tell him that If I ever became a good king, it would have been in grand part, because of him-

The older man smiled and sighed.

-I think that he always knew that- He imparted on the younger man –Or most of it, at the very least- The young king looked up to the older one, and smiled a little at those words.

-You think so, Genn?-

-I am sure of it. After all, you know how he is. The Deathlord knows, lad. Wherever he is, Sirius knows. And he isn't going down before telling you as much-

{DRAGON OF STARFALL}

The creature slammed against the stone wall opposed to them with enough force to actually make the whole room tremble, the wall shattering under the force, stone and masonry giving away under the mass of it. Ashara blinked the light and fear out of her eyes to a most shocking scene.

Sirius was standing on the corridor, hand outstretched, a strange black blade in his right hand, eyes flaring with amber fury. There was no paleness in his expression, no hesitation in his step, no doubt in his movements. There was anger, there was fury and wrath.

Her son had thrown that thing with his bare hands.

-Found you- Her eldest son´s voice was a bestial growl of anger, his steps predatory in nature. This wasn't a man against a monster. This was a hunter versus his prey. The creature used the tendrils around its body to pull itself from the wall, 11 deadly weapons at its disposal again his son´s blade. And yet, Sirius moved with an easiness that she could only guess came from training.

She wasn't wrong. Not completely. He moved easily because that is what he is good at. Killing monsters.

Its featureless head seemed to focus on Sirius, as his son fell in a combat stance, blade held in front of him in a defensive posture, both hands on the blade, eyeing the hellspawn with measured looks. Its skin seemed unblemished by the kinetic assault against the wall. It was resilient. A throw like that would have broken a demonette or a bloodletter. This wasn't either of those things. But that could wait. As could the trembling in his hands.

-As brave as that was, little sister, stay with mother and Sandor, will you? Let me deal with this- He winked at her, electing a beaming smile of his little sister, who barely managed to keep tears back from her eyes, before focusing back on the beast. Ashara felt Shireen tremble in her hands. Her daughter was either terrified or at the brink of crying of relief at seeing her older brother standing there, like a saving angel.

And the beast moved, frontal claws rending the air towards her son, cleaving in opposite directions, intending on catching him by both sides, seeking to tear him in half. But the moment they reached him, he wasn't there, not anymore. Ashara hadn't seen him move, hadn't seen him try to. He suddenly materialized right above it, midair, blade reared for a killing stroke. But the featureless abomination was deceptively fast for its size, darting to the side and to the wall, dogging the falling strike. It answered with tentacles, all eleven of them spearing for the knight in front of it. The first two Sirius batted away with Antwyr, but the rest he was forced to sidestep, their speed and power too much for him to deal with like they were simple arrows.

He hadn't touched the ground from his side jump when the beast was already on top of him, claws forward. Sirius raised Antwyr to block them, but his feet barely found purchase before the phenomenal strength of the beast and his own weakened body, losing ground until smashing against the wall, using his full might to push the monster away, Antwyr held horizontally in front of him to act as a barrier again the beast´s attack, both fighting for an edge, pushing the blade closer to the other, Sirius to move away, the thing in front of him to grab him and tear him apart. His muscles burned with effort and sweat bathed him, but he stood his ground. The beast seemed surprised, even impressed at the feat of pure strength of a mortal man. But it didn't dull the killing intent of the writhing mass of warp-born hunger, as the elven appendixes on its back coiled for a combined strike, seeking to end the fight there, knowing that he could not move.

Sirius just smiled.

-My turn- And he spoke. Three words echoed from his lips. Ashara barely managed to listen to them. The air seemed to warp and break apart, as if it was forced by some unseen, unrelenting force to move, as energy unknown to her rattle the entire corridor. Three words he uttered.

-FUS RO DAH!- And the best was struck right in the face, throwing it back with full strength, catapulting it through the entire corridor, almost 30 meters, before hitting the opposite end, shattering stone with the strength of a blow uttered not by mortal hands, but by divine words.

Sirius fell to one knee, his throat burning from using all three words of the Thu´um like that. He cursed inwardly. He had misjudged his state. He only had one more Shout after this one before his throat actually gave away. It would heal, of course, it always did, but it would be the last Shout in a long while. His vocal cords couldn´t handle that much strain on such short notice. He had learned that the hard way during the war.

-Blades it is then- He whispered to himself, picking himself up, twirling Antwyr in his hands, changing his guard from the defensive posture to another one, blade held horizontally, pointing towards the beat, beside his right cheek. It took considerable effort to not look at the slight movement of the blade as his hands kept trembling. It was not fear, he knew that much.

-Come, monster. I'm not done with you yet- The thing that had tried to attack his mother and sister looked at him in between what the young man could only guess was surprise and wariness. It had not expected this level of resistance. It had expected easy kills.

And he was anything but.

It got up, planted itself on the ground, and ran at him, covering the distance quickly. But this time, Sirius was waiting for it. Antwyr arched as he moved out of the way, the wrinkled flesh of the beast giving away under the dark metal, carving through its side, from front paw to back paw, making it lose its footing, causing it to tumble and roll to a stop. Sirius took a step backward and recovered his guard.

-Is that all?- he taunted. It looked at him, before a horizontal line crossed its face. Sirius arched an eyebrow. Then it opened up to reveal a row of sharp needle-like teeth. And another layer of demonic skin, which it opened a few instants after that, revealing the second mouth. In barely a few seconds, all eleven consecutive mouths were open, forming a maw capable of biting off a griffin´s head.

-I had to ask, didn't I?- Sirius chastised himself slightly, before preparing itself for the abomination´s next movement.

It did after an instant, leaping through the air to the wall at his right, using it to propel itself at him. Sirius growled, crouching right as the deadly maw moved for the deathblow, using Antwyr as a makeshift lever to pass the creature over his shoulder, right into the frame of the open door behind him. It crashed with all its momentum, plus his own push. Quickly, he attacked, the Black Blade falling in a quick strike intended to cut the head off. But the creature hadn´t been as dazed as he had expected, as the tentacles moved faster than him, coiling up his arms and shoulders, keeping him firmly in place. Sirius cursed under his breath. He couldn´t move Antwyr, and he didn´t have enough energy to actually use another Shout, nor enough mana for a spell. The creature rose, standing hunched over him for the delayed death blow. Sirius growled and pulled, straining himself to his now extremely limited limit, using every iota of might left in his body to move. He saw how hard it was for it to actually keep him in place. If he could create an opening, give himself a moment…. He heard closing steps, and the maw descended.

{DRAGON OF STARFALL}

-A dream, you say? About the Dúrmagol? Share it with me, kinsman, please- the king´s voice was calm, yet hid an edge of wariness….and hope. The Seneschal nodded, his brown long hair hiding his distraught from all but his king and captain, and his brother. He spoke.

-It started two nights ago, sire. It began with an open green field, blue skies a river in front of me, calm and teeming with fish, and great mountains to the east, rising like massive walls of green and grey stone. It seemed peaceful. But then, the skies darken and the light was gone, as the mountains crackled and fell, like a child broken toy. The grass withered and died, and four immense clouds marched forward. Under each one of them, marched a host of horrors beyond what the Dark lord ever held under his command, walking from the dust of the shattered mountains. Creatures of brass wings, ever-changing nightmares, putrid beings that refused to die, and alluring temptations that pulled at my very heart. And they were not alone- he had to take a breath to continue.

-With them, were marshaled all the forces of the Great Eye and the White Hand- the dwarf warrior left out a grunt.

-Improbable it seems that he is the one in command of such a host. He is gone. And by my axe he will remain as such- His companion placed an arm on his shoulder.

-Calm, my friend. Let´s allow our companion to finish his tale, for these dreams also bring me much worry- asked of him the elven prince, eyes gleaming with worry. The dwarf nodded and let out an apologetic grunt. The Seneschal nodded in forgiveness and continued.

-Waves of wights and fallen marched, mustered to the call, with nightmares of black wings and grey skins, corpses robbed of their rest to be used for war. Legions of deformed beings, twisted essences that warped the very ground, coming from the heavens in vessels of dark iron and green fire. Among them stalked what once were men, in the colors of our foes already beaten, and those of ones I did not recognize. Warriors clad in great armor, wielding mighty weapons that seemed to be alive with malign intent- He took another breath, as his brother grasped his shoulder in support. The king´s eyes were closed, but then he opened them; there was a fierce flame in them.

-And what about Lúgfaer?- He asked rising from his throne to stand in front of his Seneschal, placing a brotherly hand on his shoulder. The other man continued.

-He was one, against the tempest, standing unflinching against that might. On one hand, the dawn itself, on the other, pure darkness. It was an encouraging sight, something from the tales of kings past. But he was alone, my king. And alone I left him in my dreams, smiling at the coming foe, ready for another war- There was a little of shame on his tone, for leaving a comrade alone, even if there was nothing he could have done. The King chuckled.

-Don't let it burden your heart, my friend. He has never been truly alone-

{DRAGON OF STARFALL}

The pale gaping mouth bit into steel, or it would be more proper to say that steel bit into it, as a blade struck right in between two of its mouths, taking advantage of the lack of demonic skin in there to pierce right through the gums of the demon, and wounding until it came thought the side of the head. It wasn't a killing blow, far from it. But gods it hurt it, and gods did the thing scream in pain, as it released Sirius, using all its tentacles to pull the blade off. Whoever had saved him had wisely released the blade.

Sirius turned to thank his savior, only to stare, dumfounded to the graceful figure, now free of the court dress she had been waring, and holding a second blade in her other hand. Sirius blinked twice.

-Mother?- She eyed him dangerously, purple eyes almost flaring in anger at him. She looked pissed. Which the amber-eyed grail knight could very much understand.

-Never, and I mean never, tell me to sit out a fight. Do you understand?- Sirius blinked once at the image of the perfect warrior princess, almost a reincarnation of Nymeria herself laced in purple and silver. Without the dress, Sirius noted that his mother looked like many female legionnaires from the legions or most damsels of the Lady he had met. Fashionable beautiful for the streets and court, yet fit enough to march for 10 kilometers with 40 kilos in armor and gear or ride for miles on end on bare horseback. In other words, her mother looked like a soldier, and she moved like a soldier. Member of House Dayne had always been renowned swordsmen, but history, as it is, has forgotten a very important fact. Every member of house Dayne learns to use a blade. Every single one, may it be man or woman, learned to use a sword. And his mother had been exceptionally good. As a matter of fact, as good as his father had been with the sword, it had been his mother the one to teach him how to use a sword, not the master at arms.

"Seems like you rubbed a lot more on her than I thought, old man" He thought, knowing full well that no other lord than his father would have allowed, much less encouraged, such behavior. His father had always felt like a soldier more than a lord.

Sirius smiled at her mother and made a slight bow of his head as an apology.

-I apologize, mother. My mistake- She nodded, anger still roaring, too many things happening way too fast for her to calm down now. First, the Manticore Knight, then that thing, then her son, her boy, who she lost once, telling her to sit out the fight, and lastly, that abomination, had had the audacity to try to kill her child. So yes, Ashara Dayne was extremely pissed.

-Forgiven, my child. Now…- She looked at the monster, fear flaring for an instant, before giving away to determinate resolution, knuckles white on the handle of her burrowed blade.

-How do we kill this thing? - The amber-eyes swordsman smiled.

-Time to find out- And he darted forwards, as the creature finally managed to get the blade out of its mouth, only to find Sirius already on the offensive, Antwyr falling again and again, like a black meteor, striking and clashing with tentacles and claws, more strength than any mortal man should be able to muster. But the monster faced a Grail Knight. And he lived up to the name.

Ashara joined her son in supporting his strikes, following after missed blows, chinks in the beast´s defense, batting away tentacles or claws that got too close. She wasn't doing much more than annoying the beast. But she was terrified, scared, and worried, and her strikes reflected that dread. Sirius wasn't.

He was…. exultant.

This, was what he was good at. This, was what he excelled at. A blade in hands, fury in heart, fighting like a demigod brought to flesh against an abomination, a never-born. And he was going to kill it, like he had killed thousands like it and unlike it. He was born to defend others. He was forged to kill monsters like this. This was the culmination of nine centuries of struggle, pain, loss and suffering. Battle evil, and win. Protect that which was good and sacred. Never relenting, never giving up. He was a knight of the Lady of the Lake; he was Meridia´s Blade, the Light´s Vengeance.

He cleaved the side of the beast, carving a line of black blood, before slamming his shoulder into the beast´s wounded side, more power behind it that the eye could perceive, smashing the beast against a wall. Ashara engaged again, using the open wound to pierce into the innards of the beast. She didn't do much damage, but it hurt it. It retaliated, claw moving for the Lady of Starfall. It failed, the Black Blade already in the middle as Sirius took the brunt of the blow, before pushing it back, both Daynes moving to dodge the follow-up downward claw strike. But the dance continued and kept going for almost a full minute. Ashara kept her distance and harried the beast in its open wounds; Sirius kept the pressure and opened holes in the beast´s defenses. Ashara capitalized in one of her son's strikes, managing to stab another bleeding wound, but this time her blade got stuck in the creature´s innards, which made it roar in pain, and retaliate with a claw that Sirius was too far from to actually parry or block. The Lady of Starfall simply sidestepped the attack, and when a tentacle came to crush her, she dimply jumped over it, landing on her hands, pushing her body over the second strike with a perfect pirouette, landing with a roll behind her son.

Sirius pushed the beast back, and dogged another tentacle before it tried to bite his head off. Suddenly, his mind felt clearer, more focused and centered. His hands stopped shaking. And he felt it. He felt the rush of mana, of energy, the other conscience slightly brushing against his own from very far away.

Once, Arthas had told him that he would never defeat him alone. He wasn't alone then. He hadn´t been in Icecrown, he hadn´t been in Orgrimmar, he hadn't been on Naggarond, on Drakenhoff, on Lothern, on Draenor, on the Imperial City, on Sovengar, on Helm´s Deep, on Minas Tirith, on the Summer Islands, on the Drakenwald Forest or on Pragg. Each one of those times, someone had stood beside him. In each one of those moments, he had watched someone else´s back, and someone had watched his. From men to dragons, from elves to dwarves. Friends, rivals, allies, brothers, sister, fathers, sons and daughters. They had stood with him.

But even had they forsaken him. Even if the Lady herself couldn´t have reached him with all her might and power. He wouldn´t have been alone.

"Bloody right you wouldn't, runt. I'm not letting you die. That wouldn´t look well on my reputation" Those words echoed in his mind, in his mother´s, in the demon´s, in her sister´s, Sandor´s and every person in the bloody Red Keep. Sirius did not care. The voice had pushed him to his biggest mistakes, and his biggest accomplishments. Black energy expanded over him, taking his now trashed clothes and substituting them with a black garb, a set of pants, boots and a trench coat made of leather that no one would even be able to identify. His old hunting garbs, from when he wasn't a famous knight, a lord and commander, just a warrior seeking monster to slay and people to protect.

His friend was back.

"Took you long enough" He thought with a chuckle, grabbing the beast´s head as it descended for the killing blow, throwing it back, letting the abomination stumble as he unleashed an onslaught of strikes against the warp-spawn, two-handed blows that pushed the now frantic beast back. It was scared. It was terrified. It knew what he was holding in his hands. And it knew that it could shatter its essence and scatter it into the void.

"Ha! Do you know how hard it is to reform one´s essence after being hit by a god-slaying weapon? It's impossible" Purple and black flames erupted from the blade, leaving a trail of smoke and ash with each swing. Sirius ducked another claw strike and exploded forwards, outspending the abomination in an instant, landing a sundering strike on its left side, Antwyr carving through the skin, meat, and bone like it was cheap papyrus.

"Sadly for them, we don't care about possible and impossible, do we?" Antwyr continued, as its Castellan unleash a wave of wrathful fire of black, blue and purple from the blade, hitting the monster dead center, sending it stumbling into the wall, as its right front paw was charred and died.

"No, we bloody don't." Sirius concurred, taking command of the energy on his very veins, extending his right hand as Antwyr disappeared from view, blue and purple flames joining to conform an ethereal form, a bow of pure power, a celestial weapon that exuded light and darkness forth. Sirius pulled the string back as a single arrow formed, already primed and ready, pulsating with his own heartbeat. The energy transformed into shinning metal, adamantine steel, with many runes of power scribed along the arms of the bow, of elven craft, with a phrase written in old Elven on its handle.

"Let the Stars and the Tide give you a prey"

This weapon had served faithfully for many years. He had given it to his faithful Knight of Sadness, once he had taken the title of Duke, and it hadn't been until the Battle of the Cursed Crown that he had once again wielded it. Weakness and lack of self-trust had made him give the weapon up. It would not happen again.

The arrow was knocked fully, and it erupted in contained power, energy siphoned from the blows delivered to the monster concentrated in a single deadly projectile. A weapon that had ripped demons from the sky, torn dragon´s wings, laid low abominations from the depth of unknown oceans that had brought liches and necromancers to their end. A weapon crafted a long time ago, for a being nobler than him. This was Taumuriel, the Soul Hunter. The weapon that the Elven Sea King Arud-na-arharamid had been given to fight the Triton Lords, long ago, in the Forgotten Realms, when that world was still young, and Sirius had earnt it when he was still missing many of his scars.

"Enough dillydallying, runt. Crush this pitiful thing! "

The arrow brought ruination to the whole corridor, shaking the entire keep as it crossed the distance in between the quarry, and the hunter, in an instant. In a blink, the projectile had, to Ashara's mortal perception, transported itself in front of the warp-spawn in an almost instantaneous strike, who had somehow managed to raise its tentacles in defense. A good attempt, but futile nonetheless.

The detonation sent the beast hurling back, waves of blue fire licking and engulfing the corridor, the wall simply vanishing from the power, the never-born falling through it. The walls cracked, the ground shock sent every painting, decoration and table on the corridor was hurled in the opposite direction. Sirius moved to shield his mother from the fire, his body and soul unscathed by its flames.

Ashara looked, wide-eyed, and trembling slightly at her son´s handiwork. It was like nothing she had ever seen. The walls were blackened and melted in points, the whole seemed like it had been melted there, not blasted, the still red hot edge of the rocks of the Red Keep hissing at the sea breeze. And her son stood there, eyes blazing ferociously. He was taller than she remember seeing him last night, stronger too. His build was stern, not too big and muscled like she had seen many men. He was lean, of strong shoulders, powerful legs and almost predatory build. While Stannis had the body of a commander, her son had one of a warrior. His hair was blacker; his features were deeper and more prominent on her side of the family, although he had looked a lot like his father when he was little. He was older than he should have been. He looked past the 20 name days. And his eyes… Ashara felt like a part of her had been ripped from her soul. His beautiful purple valyrian eyes were gone, replaced by orbs of incandescent amber, of pure fire. Those eyes were not natural, not even… human. They had a depth, a power and gaze in them that made her nervous. The glint in them was foreign to her, nothing like the innocent twinkled of pure benevolence her oldest son had had. Oh, it still was there, Ashara had seen it when she had assisted her son, but it had been pushed under iron will and zealous fury.

Two things her little star knight hadn´t had.

The blue bow disappeared to be replaced by the blade that in his hand shimmered black and purple, leaving a trace of flames that ate the air above it hungrily. Its markings were unfamiliar to her, and brought her no small amount of wariness. It looked…wrong, alien to her. Even a dothraki arakh would have felt more familiar than that weapon, even if its shape was similar to Dawn. The runes in the handle seemed to shine with the same power that licked its edge, and an aura of amber power seemed to cover the entirety of the blade. And then there was the eye on the guard.

It was looking at her.

And she knew it.

A golden orb that seemed to squint at her in a disapproving manner. It bothered her to no end, even if it was the least disturbing thing that had happened…yet. The only part of the blade she wasn't scared off, and that even managed to bring her some tranquility, was the pommel, the jewel in the beast´s maws. It glowed silver, almost like it was not a part of the blade, yet it was integral to it.

-Mother, are you alright?- Her son´s voice brought her out of her stupor, although for different reasons. She hadn't noticed it in the arena or against the beast, but his voice was different. And not in the way she expected. It lacked Robert's thundering tone of warrior´s command; it didn't have the honeyed tones of Renly, nor the warm ice in Ned´s. Her son´s voice was that of a man more used to tell stories around a campfire than to issue battlefield commands. It sounded like Doran´s calm and purpose-filled voice.

And yet, it carried power behind it. Iron will, and fiery passion. The voice of a man that believed what he was doing, a commander that lead by example and inspiration. Right like her husband, yet completely different. Stannis lacked that passion, the purpose, the fire. Stannis was iron. Her son was…something else.

"If there is a metal I could compare it to, then I could only compare it to Dawn" She thought, taking a step towards him. He smiled at her, as she reached to caress his face, the trimmed beard, the scars that ran his eyes, the ones in his neck and cheek. There were more than she had seen the last nights. But there were also other things she noticed as well now.

The warmth in his eyes, which had been hidden on the battlefield, flourished now. Those eyes seemed to pierce her fear to bring her a strange sensation of peace and calm. She welcomed it for now.

-My child-She whispered. Now, she could see her Sirius, her little boy.

-Are you alright mother?- There was worry on those amber eyes, as they scanned her over with an experienced glint. It was strange to see her son so mature, so worried. That had been her job.

-Yes Sirius, nothing more than a few scratches- She smiled at him, pulling back slowly her hand. She didn't want to let him go, but this was into the moment, nor the place to do so.

-Mother…- She felt the question that went unsaid. It pained him to do so, but her son wanted to ask for her permission nonetheless. Ashara didn't know if he didn't wasn't to ask permission to hunt the monster because he didn´t want to scare her, to ask her to let him go again, or it pained him because it was his duty, and he was asking only out of respect and worry, not because he really needed her permission. She reckoned it was a little of both.

And Gods, she wanted to say no. She really wanted to. She wanted to find an excuse to not send her son against that…thing, to keep him beside him, safe, and tell him a thousand things. But she also knew, for the look on his eyes that reminded her so painfully much of her brother, that no matter her answer, he would go. It was his duty. It was her son. It was Stannis's son. And Dayne do not run from monsters.

-Go. Hunt it down. Kill it- Sirius nodded, hesitant for an instant, those amber orbs of his filled with something she could into quite tell, before nodding. He ran down the corridor, before jumping down the open hole. In that instant, black coat at the winds, sun rays glinting off the strange fabric, she realized what she had seen in his eyes.

Wariness.

Her son was wary of her. And she couldn´t understand why

{DRAGON OF STARFALL}

-He is not coming back, isn't him?- the woman´s yellow eyes shined in the darkness of the night, regarding the sleeping city under her, beautiful long black hair cascading to her shoulders. On a night like this, his kind would have hunted. The old warrior shrugged.

-He is too stubborn and too smart to leave and not come back. He knows he isn´t finding another one like you, ever- That, made her laugh, which made the old warrior smile in turn.

-I don't know about that. You know how he was with the dames. Maybe I will have competition- She mused, half saddened half amused. The warrior frowned at that.

-Don't say that in front of the young lady- he told her, stepping into the moonlight –She will kill the "competition" faster than you kill a troll- the raven-haired woman nodded, leaning on the marble balustrade, placing a hand on her cheek, her tongue dancing through her teeth. He had always found that habit of hers when she was nervous….alluring. The old warrior had found it a little unsettling, but now he was used to it

-She has my temper- She agreed. He arched an eyebrow.

-Because your husband never lost his composure- He said sarcastically. She smiled and pushed herself from the balcony.

-Are you really going to bring up the incident with the Summer Islands delegate?- she asked, leaving the room, the old warrior following close behind.

-"Incident"?!- He asked, barely holding back his laughter –He held her by the cloak from the highest window of the Tower and told her, in no uncertain terms, that she could either apologize to you, or he was going to drop her. Not that she would have reached the ground. The Red One would have snapped her mid-fall- he chuckled, as the turned left on a corridor, the walls heavy with paintings and mementos, of old weapons and trophies –He always liked you- She smiled at that.

-I am a very charming individual- She commented.

-I will not say otherwise- He sounded almost defeated

-Because you know I'm right?- She continued, smirk widening.

-Because this would evolve in a fully-fledged discussion. And I don't have the patience for that now-

-Disobeying my commands, general?- She asked mischievously, her eyes shining in a strange light of mirth, and hunger for defiance. He would not take the bait

-You haven´t commanded me anything yet, your grace. And I don't think you will- He stated matter-of-factly.

-Of course no, you grouchy old man. I'm quite fond of you- She stated, smirking, her cloak billowing behind her.

-And I curse the Nine each night for it- She laughed, the sweet sound traveling the whole corridor, as they reached the chamber they were headed to. Two soldiers, wearing full plate gold and white armors, with heavy halberds in their hands, saluted and stood to attention, their eyes held front and center.

-Is he already inside? - She asked, her tone devoid of the mirth it held before, her features a reflection of her royal might.

-Yes, my Empress- Said the soldier to the left; a woman of brown skin and heavy accent, her hair braided and held back behind her helmet –he just entered a few moments before. He isn't alone though- The last part was said with a certain doubt in her tone. Understandable.

The old warrior stood to his full height, the golden and red armor he wore almost gleaming under the light of the torches.

-Didn't the Empress and myself give specific orders on the matter?- He asked with a frigid tone. The other soldier struck his breastplate with his fist, above the heart, an old warrior salute, indicating he was a veteran of the Ninth, and asking permission to speak. The Empress couldn´t help but realize that that symbolic gesture was reserved for the Emperor. So they either thought he wasn't coming back, or they held her in the same regard. She didn't know which scared her more.

-What is it, Dracon?- He used the terminology to refer to the soldiers of the Ninth. The man was of the North, of blue icy eyes and short dirty golden hair and beard.

-General, my lady. He entered accompanied, but by the Harbinger. He also came with the Grand Illusionist and the Lady of Evocations. And I believe that the Shadowmaster was also inside, for we have seen several Black Brothers stalking the halls…and the patrol told us that a Nightingale was reported on this floor too- The raven-haired woman nodded, before entering the room, as both soldiers stood firm yet again. The general stopped at the threshold of the door and turned slightly to speak with them.

-For those we protect-

-We will sacrifice, General. No one will cross these gates while we take breath- The man nodded and followed the woman inside.

-Not that anything will be mad enough to actually try to enter- Mused the veteran. The woman turned toward him slightly.

-What do you mean? - She looked at her right in the eyes for the briefest of moments, before redirecting his attention toward the hallway.

-Inside that room, there are 7 of the most dangerous persons in the world. In the most secure room in the whole Empire, in the greatest and most fortified city and capital. If anything passes the Shield Legions, the militia, the Knight Orders, the auxiliary forces, the whole Nightingale Order, the entirety of the Dark Brethren, the Harbinger´s Own, the vampire-hunters, the Order of Mages, and the Ravenspire Guard, then they will have to step over the bodies of every legionnaire of THE entrenched, veteran and furious Ninth Legion, and after that, they will have to go through us, thought whole Zero. Only one man could have done that. His wife just entered that room and his daughter sleeps in the lower barracks- The woman nodded slowly.

-And then there the two of us- She mused, almost smiling under her helmet.

-Yes, we can kill anything. After all, we are Dragonguards of the Zero. He chooses us for this-

-Did you ever meet him?- She asked, not really listening, eyes focused on the corridor.

-Aye, I did, before he was… well, anything, to be honest. Saved each other´s life a few times in barely an hour- He chuckled lowly, following in her example.

-Really? Then why aren't you inside that room?- She asked, clearly not believing him. He chuckled without a hint of humor now.

-I choose the wrong side on the war- She eyed him.

-You were a…?- There was pure disbelief in her words.

-Yes. I was. And while he kept me close in deference to our friendship, we both knew I would never be able to stand like others did, as the Jarl did. But I had made a vow. And I would stand by it- He cracked his neck.

-After all, he needed me to keep an eye on Hadvar, make sure he didn't overwork himself to an early Sovengarde- he chuckled.

-I don't think the commander would appreciate that, Ralof- She told her, with a disapproving look.

-Bah, the milk drinker can complain all he wants. After all, what are sworn brothers for?-

{DRAGON OF STARFALL}

Arianne hated King´s Landing. Gods above, she had dreaded the whole travel there, having had to practice alone in her free moments to keep her composure once he entered the capital. His uncle had warned her and prepared her for the worst. Lying Lannisters, thick-headed northmen, pampered reachmen, obtuse riverlanders, reckless stormlanders, and the ever glory-hungry valemen. So she had prepared herself, woven her best mask for the occasion, and suffered with it with the greatest amount of dignity she could muster.

Funny how she had found a kindred soul in someone she hated so much.

Margaery Tyrell was beautiful, even Arianne could see that much. She wasn't blind. Where she had more curves and a bigger bust, Margery's skin was flawless. Where the Martell smelled of exotic spice, ripe blood oranges, seawater and sand, the Tyrell was cheese, flowers, fresh grass and honey. Where her eyes were of deep green, like fresh leaves. Arianne´s were dark, like obsidian and ebony. Arianne´s hair fell in dark heavy ringlets down her toned back, flowing freely like a black mane, but Margaery had thick and softly curling brown hair placed in a complex braided hairstyle.

They were extremely different.

She was kind, always smiling, always giving her best look to impress and please. She showed concern for others problems and made an effort to listen to the rest, acting as a soothing presence. While Arianne was fire, always abrasive, always speaking in double meanings, flirty and assertive. If she didn't care for something she would let it be known. If she was angry at something, everyone would soon know. She was fire. Margery was a rose.

But she was smart enough to see the thorns under the pretty petals.

She was as manipulative as Arianne was. Maybe she wasn't so blatant about it, and she hid her actions well, but in the shadow of her overly green leaves, she compelled and whispered suggestions in the right ears. True, Arianne used her body and beauty more than Margery did, while Margery used her pretty face, kind words and importance to do so.

So similar, so different.

Arianne made note of hitting Sirius when he woke up for getting her into this mess.

Because she couldn´t believe that no one else had noticed how she too was sighing longingly for her childhood friend. And that made Arianne furious. She didn't have the right, not after taking him from her, taking her friend from her, having him sent to that little flower castle of theirs, Highgarden. If there was someone to blame apart from the fucking Greyjoys, was the Tyrell. Hadn't they insisted on having Sirius fostered at Highgarden, he would have stayed on Dorne, and maybe he would have squired for her Uncle. She would have loved that, to have him around every day, to have her best friend with her no matter what. The gods knew very well she had needed him a lot these last years. They had been family, her, Sirius and the Sand Snakes. Stone-faced Obara, feisty and vengeful Nymeria, sweet and deadly Tyene and the two of them. And the world would have broken before them.

It still might.

For now, she had to make sure her cousins did not kill the Tyrell woman. And that was going to require some work.

It had been almost 4 days since Sirius had appeared back into Westeros, as many days since Oberyn had called for her Sand Snakes. They had arrived the day before, at late hours, and Arianne hadn't seen them until that same morning. She had been overjoyed to have them with her, her confidants, friends and family.

Margery took a calming breath to prepare herself for what was about to come. She wasn't foolish enough, or naive enough, to think the next conversation could not spark a war. She needed to control Loras and support hersñef on Garlan for this. said brother was already tense, throwing discreet looks at Loras, who still had a sour face, as he had had for the last 4 days. but Margery was not in the mood to deal with her older brother´s wounded pride. Lady Rhya´s words were still fresh in her mind, and her witchsight had improved in the last days. She could see now in a way she could only dream of before. And it made her feel powerful in a way she had never felt. She pulled at Garlan´s arm slightly, making him nod slightly. His way of showing that he would support her in the incoming conversation. She didn't even bother to ask Loras. She already knew what he would say.

-Lady Martell- Garlan Tyrell´s voice was calm, yet cold. He was taller than the famous Knight of Roses, more sturdy built and with eyes that held a hidden intelligence. He was not as stupid as his younger brother, yet knew that he wasn't as smart as his older one. A fine man he was, in Arianne´s opinion. Good with the blade, smart enough to know when he was outmatched.

Yet she couldn´t help but doubt that was the reason why he hadn't even bothered to put his hand on her blade, like the rest of the Tyrell retinue. He didn't want the fight to happen. But he also wouldn´t hesitate to draw blades, and he wasn't afraid by Obara´s reputation with the spear. She understood why in his letters Sirius had spoken so highly of him and had befriended him so quickly.

-Lord Tyrell- Arianne answered coolly. She didn't want to play any games now, but she would have to if she wanted to salvage this encounter –A fine day to walk the Royal Gardens, wouldn't you say?- Garlan smiled a little and gave her a little bow, under his younger brother´s furious gaze.

-Great mind think alike, I have been told- A self-compliment, a compliment for her, or both, depending on the beholder's perception. A good tactic if he wanted to keep the peace, but not be so blatant about it.

-Lady Martell, it is pleasure to see you again- Margery said with a sweet smile –How are you faring?- her tone went from joyous to overly worried. An implication of Arianne's weakness. She almost smiled.

-Quite fine actually. Waiting for our common acquaintance to wake up. I have years of catching up to do- She said, smiling.

-Wonder what he has learned all this time gone- Tyene commented, a mischievous glint in her eyes betraying the calm smile-Think his stamina reserves will be higher? The way he fought, he looked like he could go for days- Arianne held back the smile, as Obara glared at her little sister. Nymeria only smiled, hands caressing her curves. To the untrained eyes, it would look as if she was flaunting her body. Arianne knew perfectly well she was checking her daggers were in place.

-He is skilled with the blade- Garlan stated, a hungry smile on his face-I would love to test myself against him- Arianne wasn´t surprised there. She had been told by Margaery in an earlier standoff that her brother normally trained with 3 or 4 opponents. Sirius would make up for 10.

-A sword, Lord Tyrell? I would call it a spear- Nymeria said, a half-smile on her face. The reactions varied. The handmaidens of Margaery blushed furiously, Garlan snickered, seemingly amused, Tyene made like she was saying a prayer, but smiled behind her hands, and Obara let out a dry laugh. Neither Arianne, nor Margaery reacted at all. Although the Martell could swear she saw a hint of anger in the other woman´s eyes.

-Foul language from a dornishwoman. Not a surprise- Loras growled, his eyes flashing in anger-Save us the sinful comments, bastards- Ariane´s smile was now strained. How she wanted to claw out his eyes for that insult. No one insult her cousins like that

-Too sinful for our sensitive ears?- Tyene asked innocently, flashing timidly her white smile.

-I think he is the one the most curious- Obara growled out, smirking, dancing her spear from one hand to the other. She looked almost bored at the Knight of Flowers.

-Maybe someone will beat you with…the spear, Flower Knight. Although I have been told that a dagger is more proper for you. You handle that size better- Margaery tensed at that last comment. While Arianne almost smiled at the answer from her sworn sword, Daemon Sand, who smirked as he stood behind his lady. Not the most tactful answer, but Arianne couldn´t pass an opportunity to teach the roses some humility.

-I don't think Sirius would appreciate such hostility in between us- Margaery said, her smile more strained as she tried to keep the peace, her green eyes staring into Arianne´s black ones. On the inside, she scoffed at the blatant disrespect. What was that "princess" thinking? Trying to sour the relation between Dorne and the Reach even more?

Arianne tensed, hands bawling into fit behind her back. Nymeria´s smile vanished, Tyene´s eyes were suddenly hidden by her golden hair, and Obaar tensed up like a bowstring. Daemon´s hand rested now on his sword

-And, pray tell, how would you know what he wants?- Arianne´s tone was iron and fire, staring daggers at the Tyrell girl, who was surprised, but didn't let it show. She kept a calm façade and her smile didn't waver.

-I´d like to think I knew him quite well. We were…close- Margaery said, letting her smile grow a little. She might not want a fight, but she wasn´t backing up from this one either. The dornish princess could say all she wanted, but she was not getting this dragon. He needed to get Sirius on her side after this, so she would take the slaps with a smile. But there was a limit.

-Close? After kidnapping from his home?-Obara growled out, knuckles white o her spear hand-I doubt it- She spat

-We didn't kidnap anyone- Loras answered back, almost bored by that comment. It had been a normal accusation from dornishmen to reachmen since the King´s nephew had been sent to Highgarden.

-I am curious. Did you want him for yourself, or was it for your sister?- Asked Daemon curious, crossing his arms with an amused face.

-You dare?!- Loras asked angrily, taking a step forward, hands into fists. Obara seemed unfazed by the outburst.

-After all he had to endure because of you? Yes- She said, the spear in her hands shining against the sun.

-We traded him fairly and kindly, as befitted his rank. We showed him all possible hospitality- Margaery said simply, an edge of anger in her voice that didn´t go unnoticed by the Martell.

-If he has been gone 9 years, is because of you, Tyrell- Arianne's response was fire. She was furious. And she was going to let the little reach whore know it.

-That is nonsense-

-He wouldn´t have suffered what he has suffered if he had stayed on Dorne-

-Sure. He would have been dead- Loras mockingly said.

-What is that supposed to mean, Flower boy?- Daemon took a step forward, nostrils flaring in anger like a furious stallion. Sirius had been his friend, his first friend, the always smiling boy that had encouraged the boy older than him to keep going forwards. They had dreamed about squiring tighter under the Red Viper. Even if only one had achieved that dream

-Sirius always had a powerful sense of nobility and virtue. In a venom pit like Dorne, you would have sucked him dry, and left him to die on the hot sands- Loras told him, smirking. Nymeria could admit he was a pretty flower, but he looked most wicked with that vicious smile. It made her want to cut it from his face.

-And I thought you were the one that wanted to suck him dry…- Daemon answered, his tone still hot of anger, taking yet another pace, standing now before Arianne.

-That is enough- Garlan declared, the warrior´s voice cutting the struggle a bit-We aren't her to start a fight, not to trade insults. We are all his friends. And we should stand ready to assist him when he wakes up, not bickering among us like children-

-Speak for yourself brother- Loras said, rolling his eyes, his knuckles white on the pommel of his blade. His brother looked at him incredibly.

-You help me defend him in the arena- he said, blinking in surprise

-Only because you jumped like a fool. I was defending you, not him- The other Tyrell spat angrily, not even looking at his older brother.

-Sirius?!- Obara said, startled, taking her sisters and her cousin by surprise.

-Yes woman, I wasn't defending…!- Loras raised his voice in anger

-No you cock-sucking imbecil! Look! That´s Sirius!- Obara retorted pointing to their side

They all turned around to look, incredulous at what they had just been told. Lord above, they almost didn't believe it when they saw it. In an inferior level for the gardens, the eldest son of Stannis Baratheon was sprinting, a strange black blade in hand. Arianne's eyes widened when she saw him, and Margaery smiled. Garlan took a deep breath of relief, and Obara nodded proudly. That fat boy had gotten somewhere, alright.

-He is headed this way-Margaery stated calmly, even if she was excited and nervous at the same time- Let´s at least be civil when he arrives- Arianne eyed her dangerously.

"Being civil with you is the last thing I want to be"

{DRAGON OF THE STARFALL}

The Lost Son kept running, sprinting towards, but not seeing them as they were covered by the nearby plant and bushed. Skidding down a corner, Sirius turned right.

-Where are you, you piece of shit?!- He ran down the Royal Gardens, trailing the faint smell of warp energy and blood, letting Antwyr guide him.

"Left, then right. Some 200 meters and closing" Sirius growled an acknowledgment before doing just what the Blade said, jumping up with a mana-enhanced jump, landing two levels above him, not even breaking stride.

He found another body.

A servant girl, still twitching, her midsection crushed and her face missing a third of its surface, several claw rents marking where the beast had ripped her limbs off. She was dead. Sirius closed his eyes in respect, but didn't slow down. He had to catch that thing.

"It has stopped, 150 meters forward. I think it's –"But Sirius didn't hear that part. He had turned around again and almost ran into a man. He was ready to blurt and apology and a warning and kept running, until he actually looked at the man to the face. He was as tall as him, maybe a little bit taller, with a strong jaw, sky blue eyes, and light sandy brown hair. He had a close-cropped beard, shorter than his own, and he had a symbol in his tabard that made him stop. A golden hand on gyronny red and black. His mind was working overtime to identify the tabard, and the man he was more than certain he knew.

Until he spoke.

-Thunder-farts?- He asked, the smile on his face trembling for an instant. He was hit by memories harder than when Nakai had tried to kill him using a dead warhorse. Those eyes shinned in another face in his memories, one younger, but as amused. A memory of a hot evening, a different him eating with glee with his friend. Then, embarrassment.

"I cannot believe you just farted in the middle of court, Sirius!"

"It's your fault for putting salt on my sweets. I'm going to kill you"

"Only if you catch me, thunder-farts!"

"Come here Daemon!"

Daemon waivered for an instant as his friend, or the man that had been his friend, didn't react. No one spook, not Tyrell no Martell. Not until Sirius did.

-I swear in the Lady´s Name, that if you put salt in my food one more time, I going mess that face of yours, Assgrace- He growled out. The breath Daemon did not know he had been holding back came out of his lungs. He would have added something, a witty, cutting comment, like old times. But a blond blur flew itself at Sirius, slamming against his chest and hugging him with all its force. Sirius reacted fast enough to brace. But it took him a moment to actually realize how it was.

-Tyene?- the hug only got stronger, and Sirius knew he had gotten it right. He returned the hug, feeling a strange awkwardness creeping through him. Tyene had been older than him by a pair of years, and it felt strange that he now towered over her. Nine above, it had been a while, hadn't it? She now reached only to his chest.

-You idiotic, buffoon, half-witted…- Another woman, slim and slender as a willow, with straight black hair worn in a long braid which pulled back from a widow's peak and dark eyes, large and lustrous, advanced towards him. Her full lips were wine red with her high cheekbones and the growl on her face seemed ready to tear him to pieces. She was gorgeous, the perfect mix of an athletic body of a fighter and the curves of a courtesan.

-Moronic, stupid, death-seeking, dumb fuck!- She loomed in front of him like a falling storm. The old Sirius would have cowered. The new one, smiled at her.

-You look breathtaking, Nym- That stopped her dead on her tracks. She growled at him, reared his hand for a punch, which he wasn´t going to doge, before her snarl broke, and joined Tyene on her hug. Se reached him to the shoulder, which made him smile. He slithered an arm from under Nymeria to hug her too.

-Stupid idiot- She whispered.

-Completely and utterly. But you knew that alrea…- the shaft of the spear got him on the face, right between the eyes. Sirius blinked away he surprised, to find, who could only be Obara, staring him down like she was going to gut him. She looked like always. He smiled at her.

-Hello Obara- She snorted.

-You are still slow- And her spear moved for a second strike. Sirius caught in with his left hand.

-Speed is a perspective. The point isn't being fast or slow. It is being fast or slow enough- Obara blinked once at the display, before Sirius let go of the spear. She smiled, just a little.

-Slow, but smart. A good reason for you to be alive still- He arched an eyebrow, but nodded.

-That, and a good sword arm, I assure you- She snorted.

-Please, in the arena you looked like a pleasure boy of Lyis, dancing to impress, not to kill- Sirius nodded, as he released the hug on Tyene and Nym.

-I'll admit, not my best moment. I have fought better- He grimaced. The old wounds and the exhaustion from fighting…. Him, had made him sloppy.

-I digress. You gave quite an expectable- Sirius looked at other of the men there, taller than the last of the present warrior, a mass of lazy brown curls and ringlets tumbling along his temple, his eyes a light shade of brown, like fresh dirt. He wore green with two roses on the chest. He was wearing a strange smile. But Sirius barely took an instant to actually pinpoint the Tyrell man.

-Garlan?!- He asked, shocked. Gods, the man had changed…..as he had. Garlan smiled and made a slight bow.

-Lord Baratheon, is good to see you recovered- he stated, a slightly mocking tone in his voice, but Sirius welcomed it.

-None more than me, Lord Tyr….-Sirius trailed for a moment- Ups, apologies, I thought I was talking with Willas for a moment- Garlan erupted in laughter as the jest.

-Good to see those scars didn´t take your humor- There was sincerity on his tone that made Sirius a little melancholic. He quickly collected himself.

-They tried Garlan. They truly did-He passed a hand over his chest, above the heart where….. He smiled weakly at the man who nodded, understanding only a part of the shine in his friend´s eyes.

-But they failed-Declared the woman beside him, smiling brightly -That, is what matters- Sirius remained dumfounded for a moment. It took him a moment to process what he was seeing.

-Marge?- He asked, bewildered. The only daughter of Mace Tyrell gifted him a beautiful and shining smile, hiding the slight tremble on her hands. Blessed Goddess, she could see them, all of them, all of the scars, just as Rhya had warned her. Her gifts had allowed her to see the pain in others, and Sirius's body was alight in her witch sight with marks, cuts, scars and wounds. And all of them eclipsed by three of them. The one above his heart, the one on his left eye, and lastly, the one that crossed his gut from one side to another. But she was extremely relieved to see him standing again, breathing and talking, a stark contrast to the man that had fallen on the arena like a broken toy. But she dared not to get close. Not with all those dornishwoman around him.

Sirius blinked once, then twice. Blessed Lady, had Margery bloomed. Thick, softly curling brown hair and large brown eyes crested her slender but womanly figure of smooth and unblemished pale skin. She was a beautiful and fair woman, wearing a green and mustard dress. Sirius had wondered how she might have looked. He had fallen short. He took a step forward.

And someone slapped him across the face.

Hard.

He blinked, surprised, but not disturbed by the fact. He had a fairly good idea of who might have done that. The only reason he hadn't sensed her, he realized, was because the Blade had deliberately blocked her from his senses

"Why?!" He asked in his mind, more surprised than anything else

"I thought it would be fun, runt" Answered Antwyr chuckling.

"WHY?!" Sirius asked again, serval tones higher and angrier.

"Meh, I like when you get slapped" he had to control himself from developing a nervous tick, or screaming at the Blade in public.

"You say that like it's a normal thing!" He bellowed mentally.

"Do you want the list chronologically, or by quantity?" that stopped Sirius's anger dead on its tracks. Quite the low blow

"Fuck you and shut up" the Blade cackled, but complied nonetheless, leaving the bretonnian knight to deal…with a certainly awkward situation. He could feel the daggers in his back from the stares of Obara, Nymeria and Tyene. Platinum Lord, they were going to make him pay this one, weren't they? Well, one thing at a time, he told himself. He looked at the woman that had slapped him and whatever greeting or comment that he had prepared died on his throat as she walked to stand right in front of him, with her back to the Tyrell congregation, glaring at him, face contorted with an angry scowl.

It was Ari, all right. The scowl proved it. But it was the only thing he could see of her childhood friend. She was shorter than him, 5 feet 2, while Sirius was 6 feet 1. She was ten times more beautiful than he was, thou, and he had the blessings of the Lady, Mara, Diabella and a few others. Her eyes bore into his skull like eagle-claw bolts. She was… much more than he had ever dreamed. And standing, right in front of him, it felt like a dream, all over again.

-What do…- Whatever raging speech, whatever barrage of insults, cutting comments were going to be uttered by the dornish princess disappeared when the Lady´s Champion hugged her, fast, but gently, like he was afraid of breaking her with his mere touch, an illusion that he was afraid of dispelling, a bountiful mirage that brought calm to a wounded heart. Arianne stopped, mouth open and taken completely by surprise. She could feel his hands trembling, afraid of touching her, his forehead almost against her shoulder, but still not touching her, still afraid. She blinked for a moment, before pulling him into the embrace, gently, more gently than any other man she had ever cared for in any meaningful way. He hugged her close, his head resting fully against her shoulder, the black mane of hair covering his features, his trembling hands on her back. Arianne smiled a little.

-I'm here- She whispered, like any time he had had a nightmare on the Water Gardens and she had found him sitting on the ceiling, looking at the night sky-I´m not letting you go anywhere- He tightened his hug a little more.

-I'm taking your word for that- he whispered back, a different voice. She grabbed his face gently and lifted it to look into the amber orbs of fire that were those eyes, shining like a dornish dawn. She searched for the shine they had once had when purple had been the color of his eyes, but she found little of that. She saw pain, hurt, exhaustion, resignation….and hope, and happiness, and a slight shine, hidden under the steely gaze that seemed to darken his eyes, a glimmer she had once before seen in those same eyes. In the corner of his eyes, a light filled with sadness, filled with sorrow, filled with loss and fear. He was afraid. Not of her, but of the chance that she would not recognize him. A fear of having changed too much for her to still love him. And there, she found the base of the boy who had vowed her he would never let anyone hurt her, who would be her sworn sword, until the end of the world. There, was her old friend . She could still find him, even after all this time. She smiled, taking his hand into his own.

-There you are- she whispered. Sirius froze for a second, before gently smiling gently

-A hero always come home- She whispered. He chuckled.

-A hero? I'm just a man Ari, a man that does what he can- She smiled.

-And what is a hero, if not a man who does what he can- He laughed.

-I have missed you Arianne, I have missed you a lot – She smirked. She looked at him searching his face, a distant cry from the boy that she had known so many years ago, a man now, taller than her, wiser than before, stronger, and yet gentler at the same time.

-Took you long enough- Back was the sassiness in her tone, and back was his half-smile, ever-present and mysterious.

-My apologies, my Lady Martell- he made as light bow –I had to save a few worlds in the way back. Took longer than anticipated- He squeezed her hand, she returned the gesture.

-If that is your only excuse, you have a lot to make up for. Nine name days for everyone, weddings, namings, births and a thousand more things. You are going to be quite busy- Sirius's smile became strained at the mere thought of the bureaucratic and aristocratic nightmare ahead of him.

"Thank the Lady the old man is like he is, or I would die for boredom and ass-licking"

"Don't go betting on the bretonnian pure-blood yet. Aren't you the King´s Nephew?"

"Yes, but I fail to see the point…." He paled a little at the realization.

"Now you are getting it"

"Blessed Akatosh, please no. Not a seat in the small council. Where is Bedi when you need him?!" The Blade laughed, while Sirius managed to not lose his composure, barely.

-It would seem my social life is quite inexistent- he commented sheepishly. Nymeria placed her hand on his shoulder.

-Well, you can thank that Lady of yours you have us to help you with that. Or Ari and Tyene, at the very least, because I'm not wasting my time with that, and Obara barely knows how to re…- Nym ducked to dodge the blow to the head from her sister´s spear shaft, smiling all the way.

-Do not worry Sirius. I know every religious man and maester from the Citadel to Mereen. And you can teach me about other religions you have encountered!- He smiled at the blonde girl, who giggled in response, while Arianne traced with her hand the scar on his face. He let him.

"You don't let many touch that scar" Commented Antwyr in a more somber tone than usual.

"Let's hope I don't let this one die" He answered in a similar tone.

"You never let anyone die, runt. That is the most exasperating, and endearing thing about you. Not even me" He smiled internally.

"To the End, partner. I promised as much, didn't I?"

"There are beings that deserve no promises, Sirius"

"This isn't about what you deserve or don't deserve. This is about what you are owed. And I owe you my word, at the very least" the Blade felt silent for an instant.

"You never stop impressing me kid. Never do"

"Not planning to" Sirius noted the look in Margaery's eyes. There was something there that made him make a mental note to talk with the Tyrell. In private.

"Good. Now prepare yourself, you got incoming. Hundred meters and closing in, hard and fast" Sirius didn´t think.

He moved.

He planted his feet in Arianne´s midsection, and pushed her back backward, using the inertia to move back, grabbing Tyene with one arm, and Nymeria with the other, adding a little mana for the Blue Winds to push him further. The tentacle landed an instant after that, smashing the place where Arianne had been standing a moment before, floor tiles shattering, leaving a scaring the ground, but she was now in Garlan surprised arms. But Sirius was not done. Moving faster than the beast could react; he slammed his foot back with enough strength to negate his inertia and bolted forward, Antwyr falling in a cutting arc. And this time, it went right through the tentacle, cutting it in twain. The bisected tentacle wriggle in pain, as the beast screeched and jumped back, coming now into view, one of its appendages missing.

-There you are- Sirius growled out loud. The beast was now was fully committed to the kill. It moved slowly, its featureless face examining every one of his movements. Its tentacles were arched like stingers, and his claws were smeared in fresh blood. The gashes on its sides had closed already, but he could still see where the wounds had been. It moved for a strike, but Sirius reacted with overwhelming force, a simple cast allowing him to call on the Jade Winds, imprisoned in the beast´s footing in powerful vines. Getting close was still a bad idea, but he could control it better now. Even if he felt like someone had hit him with a hammer in the gut.

"It's only me or this thing looks….?" Sirius trailed, looking at the demon.

"Bigger?"

"Yeah, and even more pissed off"

"A 25% increase on its size. Not to mention the arm we took has grown back" The grail knight blinked once.

"What?!" Sirius looked at the front paw he had obliterated. It was there, like new. The skin didn't have a single mark. That was a first, at least among demons.

"Since when can things burn by your fire re-grow this dammed quickly?"

"Now, it would seem" There was strange mirth in Antwyr´s tone that did little to betray the unsettling sensation that the Blade was probably feeling.

"What is this thing, Antwyr?" Now, it was Sirius the unsettled one "We have faced from trans-materials abominations, to being born from the Chaos Wastes. Undead of the Lich King, the Dark Brother´s minions, the Old Ones of Azeroth, the Dark Lord´s servants and the Deep ones. And this thing…is different. And not different in the sense that…."

"That is just a new type of something we have faced before? A new demon? A new corrupted celestial being? You are right. It´s different than all that. It holds little resemblance when watched from the Warp to my aberrant cousins…..it is a demon. Bur only in part"

"And the rest?"

"….."

"Antwyr?"

"I do not know" Sirius felt a dreadful cold scale his back at those words. Antwyr was as old as the Universe itself, forged in the dawn of time. If the Blade didn't know, well, he was fucked.

"Please, tell me you are joking…." He mentally begged, groaning internally.

"No joke, runt. I have no idea what this is. Don't misunderstand, it is a demon, made of immaterial energy, but in my lifetime, I have never encountered such a…. it's probing your mental defenses" The Blade had already expanded its barriers to cover him in case his mental defenses fell, and proceeded to counterattack, picking at the beat´s meager protections. But with creatures such as these, there wasn´t much to read, and he wasn't a cipher.

"I can feel it. Gods, it is an awful presence" Sirius reinforced his mental defenses, but left a few well-placed nicks. The thing wasn't going to get into his mind anytime soon, but he didn't want it to focus on the others around him. Nymeria had already drawn a few daggers, Tyene was hiding terrified behind a pale, but sill ready Obara, as Garlan pulled both his sister and Arianne behind him, the Gallant and the Flower Knights drawing steel, more out of muscle memory than of actual intention of attacking, because they dint know what they were looking at. Only then did Sirius actually notice that Loras was there.

"Well, look at what grew of the spoiled rose"

"You don't like him?"

"He doesn't like me"

"Can I drink his blood then?"

"Not yet"

-What in the Gods´s shit-stained Seven Hells is that?!- Nym´s voice trembled a little, but anger pulled over fear.

-Demon- Sirius said simply- Your blades cannot harm it. I'll take it from here. Leave, now-He pushed some mana in his voice in the last words to get the point across. Garlan and Daemon seemed to hesitate. Sirius found it heartwarming to see two old fired hesitate to leave him alone against the danger.

"Alone?"

"Well, leave us alone"

"Now, that is more proper"

-As much as I appreciate the thought, the truth of the situation is that I can fight it better alone. Go. I have survived much worse than this. And I'm not planning on ending my tale today- He said simply, as the runes on Antwyr flared to life. Sirius counted mentally what he could do. One Shout, one, maybe two casts from the Winds of Magic, two runes on his blade…. And one single Spear. No more uses of Taumuriel, no more spells from the Great Sea. Not much. Especially because he had no armor, and all of his backup weapons and artifacts were not with him. He was on his last legs, to be honest. So, it would have to be done like the old tales. Blade against claw, faith against hate, purity and zeal against corruption and temptation. He was fine with that. More than fine

But he still had his little trump card.

At point-blank range, and with a direct hit, it could end the monster in a single blow. But for that, he needed to get close, and have that moment for him to actually use it. And with a creature like that, he wasn't sure if he was going to have the chance. But he sure as hell didn't have many options.

-We aren't leaving you alone with that!-

-I´m afraid you don't have a choice, Nym. I can kill it. You cannot. And leaving it alone will only bring more dead bodies. No. It dies here, now, by my blade-

-Then let us help you!-

-With all due love, Daemon, you would only be in the way- Sirius stated flatly.

-Sirius, this is ridi…!-

-It went after my mother and my little sister-That cut every complaint they had, pure rage seething from his words, Antwyr coming alive with even more purple and black flames-I could be staring at one of the 4 Champion of the Ruinous gods, at Molach Bal or even Morgoth him-fucking-self, and nothing would change. This dies here, and now- He growled out, slamming his blade point first into the ground. He calmed himself a little.

-And, this is my duty. This is what I was forged to do. Kill monsters like this, and protect the innocent and the good. Go now. And do not fret. This is not my last dance-

Garlan seemed to be the first to relent, his tactical mind winning over emotion, although barely pulling at the two ladies to get out, and would undoubtedly retune with reinforcements and more knights, but Arianne pulled herself from his grasp.

-Sirius!- he turned slightly, eyes never leaving the beast, giving her his ear.

-Don't you dare to die again, do you hear me?!- That, made him turn his eyes at her, and smile that smile, the ferocious smile, the half-smile that promised wrath and fury.

-At your command, my princess- he stated, eyes gleaming amber in mirth, confidence, and a silent vow. It was enough to Arianne, who made a tremendous effort, and hands baled into white fists, turned around and left, followed suit by the rest of the Martells.

-Hey, little stag!- Obara´s voice ringed in his ears, he arched an eyebrow.

-Kill the fucker, and then come with us. You owe us stories!-

-And every bloody little detail!- Followed suit Nymeria. Sirius smiled, seeing the fear, the worry in their eyes. Leaving was hard for them. But they also held hope; they held trust, the held…devotion. It felt strange to have different eyes than theirs shine like that, in such a manner.

"Not that much"

"To you, maybe. It feels like an eternity since those days"

"Times change. We have changed as well. You were weaker, more idealistic, worse swordsman, slower and afraid. I was more stubborn, more vengeful, and less wise."

"I'm still afraid"

"And I'm still Vengeance made steel, runt. But, this time, we fight together"

"I'll remember that"

"You better"

-Wonderful stories, and tales of foreign gods and lands. Promise it!- pleaded Tyene, still grabbing her elder sister´s hand, trying weekly to smile reassuringly at him.

-Kill that abomination Sirius!- Thundered Garlan, anger in his words, as he eyes the beast with enough disgust Sirius could feel it from where he was standing- Show it knight´s fury!-

-Sirius! - Margery joined. She seemed to hesitate for an instant before speaking –Show it the shadow of your wings!-

The Black Swordsmen's eyes widened at those words.

-Margery…-

-Later!- She declared, eyes shining like freshly cut grass –Kill that, and I will explain over some tea!- The smile returned to the young knight´s face. He nodded

-By your command, my lords and ladies. Now go! I have a vow to uphold!- With that, he turned around to face the beast head-on. He felt them leave. He felt their confidence in him, their trust and determination. It was a good sensation, a sensation that brought him a strange inner peace.

He lifted Antwyr in front of his face, its edge facing both him and the warp-born entity.

-Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no harm; for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me- An old battel prayer. One he whispered before every fight, every duel, every time he could, since the time he had learned it. He knew it better than his name. A cry for protection to a goddess that cared far more than Sirius had any right to.

"The girl…. Those words…"

"It can wait"

"It can"

"Now?"

"Now runt, Wrath and Ruin, until it is done."

-And as I walk this valley of darkness, I fear no evil, for I am what they fear. I am the shadow of silver that brings them their death. I am the soldier at the End - He finished the prayer and let out a calming breath.

-I, am the Hammer- And he moved.

{DRAGON OF STARFALL}

The storm was growing evermore. It gave Balon Greyjoy, defeated aspirant to the Salt Throne, a strange wariness. He was no stranger to the storm, or to the rage of the Sea. Those who followed the Drowned god feared nothing. But since the Baratheon bastard had shattered his fleets and taken his keep, every time a storm came over Pyke, Balon couldn't help but watch to see I the sigil of the Stag would appear in sails on the horizon. There was none today, like every other day since the Siege of Pyke. But he still watched, wary of that man.

-I do that too- Balon turned to look at his last child. Yara Geryjoy, his daughter, was standing next to the hearth, back resting again the rock wall that housed the flames –No matter if I'm on the open sea, at the coast or sleeping on my quarters, every time I see a storm, I wonder if the Stormbringer is coming back to finish us off- Balon scoffed.

-He didn't do it then, he won't do it again. He was weak and stupid- Balon said dryly.

He beat you and uncle Victa…-

-Do not say the traitor's name!- Thundered her father, eyes gleaming in a dangerous light. Yara fell silent, knowing better than to evoke her father´s wrath.

-It was all Euron´s fault. Had he done what I ordered him to do, this would have happened. But of course, he had to take a toy to play with. Fucking idiot-

-Father…-

-Had he simply taken the king´s children, and not a dammed nephew, we would have had leverage to actually be left alone! But of course, he needed to take that purple-eyed little fuck!- He smiled a vicious smirk as he remembered taking those balls of purple contempt and defiance of his eye sockets. Oh, how he had screamed. It was the last thing he had done to the boy. He had made sure to torture, rape and kill prisoners every time he was defiant or he spoke back, and obviously made him watch. He let his men do whatever they wanted to the boy, he had even left Euron to do as he wished. But nothing had worked. The little…

-My lord?- The maester´s voice cut his mental rant. Growling, the Lord of Pyke got up and walked towards the door, opening it with a swift movement.

-Wh… Aeron?!- The eldest of the Greyjoys looked surprised at his brother´s silent and ragged features. The one called Damphair, the youngest living son of Quellon Greyjoy was even grimmer than normal.

-Brother, we need to speak. I bright urgent tidings- Balon growled, but relented, opening the door for his brother, indicating his guards to not let anyone near the room. As much as Balon wanted to throw his brother off the Pyke, it was his brother still, and he had power among the faithful. Power Balon did not wish disturbed or awakened, for now.

-Uncle- Greeted Yara with a small bow that the man responded with a shorter one still.

-I bring a warning from the Drowned God, brother, niece. He has spoken to me….-

-For fuck´s sake Aeron!- Balon growled –I do not have time for mummer tricks and broken fucking sticks! I have….-

-Death is coming, Balon- There was a seriousness in his brother´s eyes the stopped the lord of the Iron islands dead on his tracks.

-Explain. Fast- he commanded.

-Barely a few hours ago I was on the shore, reading the tides, when a storm began in the South. Massive, an emissary of the Storm God I thought it was. But then, I received this message from the sea itself. It washed onto my waiting hands-

-Is this….blood scribbled on seaweed?-

-From the Drowned God himself, I thought. But when I translated it using the ancient runes… It is a message, a threat, sent to us, and delivered by our God for us to make ready for what is to come-

-Ancient runes? - Asked Yara, confused –How would any outsider write a message to us in our ancient runes? I can count with my hands the number of persons that know how to read them, much less write them- She stated, moving to stand beside her father.

-Several of my drowned men that I sent along with ships and captains never returned- Damphair stated bluntly. Balon cursed inwardly.

-Yara, cheek to see which ships have been missing recently Let's see if someone wasn't to bet carved like a fish- His daughter moved to the pile of naval reports the Lord of the Iron Island had on his table and began to skim thought the reports of missing ships. It dawned on him that the pile was strangely big for this time of the year. There shouldn't be many storms near the Islands.

-So, someone has been attacking ships, kidnapping your followers, and making them write a message for the Drawn god to deliver to us?- Theorized Balon, tapping his finger into the axe´s handle on his belt.

-It is my belief, yes- his brother concurred

-Why?- Balon asked simply, the whole situation feeling ridiculous, and growing by moments, as did the dread creeping up his back he had been trying to ignore for the last minutes.

-A show of determination, a message whiting a message. A threat that promises upholding- The glint in his brother´s eyes was almost maniacal.

-I hate when you sound sensible. Well, what does it say?- growled Balon. His brother knew the message by heart, so he simply said it. The grey sky around them seemed to thunder in trepidation. And it felt too perfect for Balon to be simply chance.

-Beware, beware, of the Daughter of the Sea. Beware, beware…. of me-