Copyright Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire by George RR Martin, other than my own the original character(s) in this story. This is purely a work of my personal enjoyment so don't expect anything worthy of GRRM. I fully welcome criticism/suggestions/questions. The story will eventually be finished (I hate leaving things unfinished) but I have no real schedule. Please review as I'd love useful thoughts :) feedback helps encourage my writing.
Chapter 54: Hour of Twilight
"War is a thing of beauty."
– Prince Lu Lóng
General Shan Yín felt, with every step he took, the great weight of these past years. His heart was steeled against his actions – no matter how dishonourable at times – he could cling to his love like a sailor clung to driftwood in a shipwreck. His doubts had never left him of course, he risked a great deal, but his heart ruled him.
He'd come too far and done too much to turn back now however, his decisions were no longer his own; if they'd ever truly been in the first place.
His was the life of a commoner. With time and effort, he'd risen the ranks of the Imperial Army to the position of General and he thanked the Dawn for that every waking moment; even though he knew due to his blood that he'd never rise higher. No amount of heroics nor leal service would change his low birth.
"Such is the way of things," he'd often tell himself, especially of late.
Up the pristine white steps he went, to the upper levels of the place where his charge awaited.
Prince Lu was late – as he often was, Shan would prefer to leave him as such – yet the Emperor had given him orders.
"Fetch my brother this instant," Emperor Liang had commanded with no small annoyance.
The two brothers were hardly close, but Lu at least seemed to always bow dutifully before his elder, even as the court had taken to giving Shan the mocking title of "Prince's General" that the Emperor hadn't liked one bit. In such, Lu's brother took any opportunity to make a public show of ordering him about.
Shan never once complained. How could he? It was a small miracle that Emperor Liang hadn't simply taken his head…
One supposed such an order would set some bad precedents and would only serve to alienate the other Generals.
"I'm loyal," Shan would very often tell himself. Loyal to the Lóng Dynasty for all they'd given him and for all they'd promised.
What did it matter if he'd turned a blind eye to many of Prince Lu's indiscretions? He obeyed, as a good man ought to, even if Lu's actions brought him shame.
It was not for a mere General such as him to judge the nobility, yet alone the royal dynasty. He obeyed. He served. He would, in time, be rewarded for that loyalty.
Two palace guards greeted him atop the stairs dressed in their ornate silvery plate with gold trims and long flowing purple cloaks, nodding in respect as he passed them by, along the hall he passed a patrol of four more before reaching the Prince's chambers – where two more palace guard greeted him… far less friendly….
"The Prince is busy," the first one moved his spear across the doorway to block Shan's route.
"Not accepting visitors," the second on the right echoed. "Come back later, General, our apologies…"
"Emperor Liang sent me," Shan declared and expected them to obey.
Most men would in a heartbeat. He expected as much of these two, and yet…
"Prince's Orders," the first man said bluntly, keeping his spear across the doorway.
"I-" The second seemed less sure.
"Emperor's Orders," the General scowled at them.
"W- Well," the second guard looked to his friend. "If the Emperor-"
"If the Prince hears we ignored his order to-"
"You may blame me," Shan offered with a sigh.
"General?" the second guard blinked, eyes darting to his friend.
"You forced us to let you in," the first man said, in a whisper, hushed and quiet.
Shan only had to nod. "Say what you wish," he did not care. "I will take full responsibility – you have my word."
That much seemed to settle the two guards, though the first glared before he moved his spear aside and steeled himself then.
"As you say General," he declared, a little too loudly. "We cannot stop you – though the Prince shall not be pleased…"
"Prince Lu's business is his own," Shan declared uncaring, pushing open the door to the man's chambers.
The room smelt of sweat and perfume, an odour the General had sadly become uncomfortably used to in his service to the Prince.
One of the girls screamed, earning a raised brow from him; as these women usually ignored his presence entirely.
"This one must be new," Shan thought, eyeing the great bed where the girl in question was straddling Prince Lu's lap. At his arrival she had ceased her moaning to shriek like a banshee instead, covering her chest with her hands in a flash of fear and embarrassment that quickly turned to anger.
The other two women hadn't so much turned to acknowledge him.
"General," Prince Lu's had peaked around the girl atop him to eye his guest.
"My Prince," Shan bowed in respect. "Forgive my interruption, but your brother insisted…"
"Sounds like him," Lu's amused smirk vanished as he shoved the new girl off from his lap and moved from the bed.
"What is the meaning of this interru-"
The new girl found herself silenced by the kiss of one of the others.
"Keep quiet fool," Shan thought, eyeing the new girl as she moaned in surprise at the silencing lips.
They were nobility, Shan knew, though to Lu they were little but whores; this new one quite the damn fool.
"Speak to me General," Prince Lu spoke, grabbing his trousers and dressing himself lazily. "I trust my brother has good reason…"
Lu knew the reasons well, but Shan did say as much as he kept his eyes firmly on the Prince and off his noble whores.
"Your brother asks for your attendance in the Hall of Dawn," he revealed, watching the Prince as he walked across the room.
"Asks?" Lu chuckled heartily at that. "My brother asks for nothing General, come now; give me his true words. I do not bite friends…"
A lie as bold as it was plainly false. Lu was no less dangerous in his bite than any Dawn Cobra one might find in the western territories.
Such things could grow to twenty feet in length, using its size and venom to hunt its prey; the Prince had the same deadly venom about him.
"He demands you attend Princess Cai's departure feast immediately, my Prince…"
Lu's smirk returned. "That's more like it – can't have you lying to me now, can we Shan?"
"No," the General said immediately. "I only sought to-"
"I know what you seek General, you needn't remind me. Need I remind You?"
Silence was the only correct response. Shan bowed his head and held his tongue.
The Prince walked without his shirt over to the rooms balcony that looked out over the Silver City.
"A long time ago there lived a maiden called Asuna," he said without turning his head. "She had many suitors but spurned them all, for she did not love them."
The General stood in silence – as he'd often done – waiting dutifully with his head bowed, eyes to the floor, listening with his heavy heart. His Prince spoke in a hushed tone, but his words were clear as the dawn. The women in his bed listened too, wary as they should be; as anyone wise enough would be in this room.
"One day," the Prince continued. "Asuna was sitting by her window in her father's castle, singing and dreaming, when her voice – sweet a honey – caught the attention of a young solider. Entranced by her song, the soldier drew near to Asuna's window. As their eyes met, he fell in love with her and she with him…"
"What happened next?"
The new noble whore asked suddenly.
"Foolish girl," Shan thought, but kept his head low.
Prince Lu didn't turn to answer. He didn't say a word. He didn't need to…
"Leave us," Shan ordered her sharply, without needing orders himself – the Prince's silence was enough.
"I-" She blinked; eyes darted to the other two women beside her; naked as the dawn.
The others offered her only masked looks, but their eyes pleaded for her to obey.
"Now," again the General ordered, his own eyes pleading too.
"I'm the daughter of-"
Some lord, no doubt, but it didn't matter in the least.
"Leave or be removed," he commanded harshly for her own good.
"I-" She looked to the Prince, as if the man would care to defend her honor…
She must have been new to this game, Shan wagered sadly; as the noble whore left the bed and walked over to her Prince on his balcony.
"Wrong way foolish girl," Shan thought sadly, watching her walk over – hips swaying this way and that without any hint of shame.
"My Prince," she said, full of honey and smiles, still bare and exceedingly foolish. "You must defend my honor, I beg you!"
General Shun frowned. One did not make demands of a cobra…
"Must I?" Lu muttered quietly, still looking out at the city.
"My Lady," Shun took a bold step forward. "I insist you leave at-"
"No," Prince Lu turned, his smile charming and his eyes sparkling brightly.
To any fool that did not know him – as this particular whore did not – his face would look every inch the noble prince prepared to defend a maiden from dragons and worse creatures. "Sweet prince," the whore beamed, smiling wickedly at the General now. "I knew you'd defend my honor – this commoner is-"
His hand cupped the girl's heart-shaped face gently.
"I'm afraid I cannot," Lu kept his smile, charming, innocent, sweet.
"W- Why do you say-"
"My sweet," Lu's hand moved gracefully from her cheek to her neck.
The General looked away them, wise to the man's nature; as were the women on his bed.
"Poor stupid girl," Lu's hand stroked her neck. "How can I defend that which does not exist?"
Her eyes widened. In an instant, the Prince's hands closed swiftly around her neck, squeezing.
The girl's hands shot up to try pry the Prince away, but she was no match for him.
Some part of Shan's mind yelled to save the girl, but in truth her fate was sealed with or without him.
She screamed when she fell and fell, thrown over the ornate banister of Prince Lu's balcony down to the city below.
"A shame," the Prince sighed. "As ass like hers will be sourly missed – alas, the girl tripped and fell…"
"Indeed, my Prince," the General was quick to agree with his version of events.
"A shame," one of the women on the bed agreed, eyes darting to her fellow whore.
"Yes," the other woman nodded, clinging to her friend to mask her fear.
"Oh well," Lu shrugged and walked back from the balcony.
The other two women on the bed knew better than to say more.
"Where was I?" Lu halted, thinking. "In the story – Shun, do tell… I seem to have missed my place…"
"The soldier had fallen for his Princess…"
It was a story Lu delighted to tell, so long as the General was around to hear it.
"You see ladies," he smiled sweetly at the bed and sat down; the women quickly moving to his side. "When our fair Princess told her father about the man she had chosen, he was beyond furious, for Asuna was high-born, proclaiming to love nothing more than a common soldier… even as accomplished as he was…"
"What happened next my Prince?"
He pulled this one closer to him, planting a light kiss on her neck.
"To keep them apart," he smirked over at Shun. "He had her imprisoned in the highest tower of his castle; sending her beloved soldier off to war…"
"And then?" The other whore asked as Lu placed his free hand on her rear.
"I'm afraid I forget," Lu smirked and kissed her suddenly. "How very silly of me…"
The General knew he hadn't forgotten. This game was an old one, long overplayed.
"A month passed before news of the soldiers death reached the Princess," Shun finished the tale, because he knew the Prince expected it.
"How very sad," one of the noble whores said in a whisper.
"Love is cruel," the other agreed with a moan as Lu played his games.
"The Princess wept for her love and beseeched the Dawn to deliver her from her cruel fate."
"And what happened next?" Lu asked of him, allowing his noble whores their story – as if it were for their benefit.
"So earnest was her plea that the Dawn was moved. She was lifted up into the heavens to become a star in the heavens, alongside her soldier love…"
"You can still see them in the sky," Lu finished the tale. "The band of stars between them is a river of Asuna's tears, cried for her lost love. It is said that when Princess Asuna has cried enough, she will be able to cross the river to be reunited with her soldier in the heavens…"
"A beautiful tale my Prince," one of the whores praised him.
"Is it?" Lu's mask slipped. "I find it quite pathetic, don't you?"
"I-" the whore stumbled over her words. "Yes, of course; that's what I-"
"I was kidding my sweet," Lu's smirk returned in a flash.
The whore looked at him like a fish out of water, gulping for air.
"My Prince," Shun moved to save the girl. "What of the arrangements?"
Lu frowned at that. His fun was spoiled by the annoying commands of his Emperor.
"Ah yes," he groaned, throwing one of the whores from his lap. "No time for play ladies, duty calls."
They made a fine show of looking disappointed with their pleas for him to remain.
"Can't you stay?" and "I miss you" and "Come back soon" poured from them.
"I'm vexed Shun," Lu pouted. "Do you know why, my General?"
It wasn't for the whores, that much he knew.
The two women cuddled on the bed.
No doubt with prayers to the Dawn.
"I'm afraid I don't know, my Prince…"
"That dead girl," he explained. "The one that's now a pretty stain on my brother's palace?"
"The one that tripped and fell my Prince…"
"Yes," Lu's frown flashed to a smirk. "I shall miss her, I think…"
"I assume because of her many great… assets… my Prince?"
"You know me so well," Lu's smile was a twisted thing. Her father – whoever he was, if he knew of her actions – would learn of her fate quickly enough, once they'd scraped her off the stones beneath the palace. The noble father would at best make a fuss, or brood in silence, but would either way take the gold given for her life.
They never ceased to take the gold. Shun knew, even the ones that loved their daughters still took the gold when to refuse would mean a quick reunion.
If the Prince ever cared for the potential reprisals of such actions, he never showed it, nor any remorse.
Lu never showed much of anything in truth. If he did, it was always a farse for his own amusement.
"We're late to the festivities my Prince…"
"Yes," Lu said uncaring, pulling his purple tunic on over his head.
"Shall we depart my Prince?" Shun pushed as far as he dared, eager to leave.
Lu only smirked, dressed now in his finery, all royal purple silks with gold trim.
"Lead the way General," he bid him move. "Let's not keep the dead waiting, shall we?"
The dead wouldn't care – nor did Prince Lu for that matter – though his brother certainly did; for appearances if nothing else.
Outside his chambers, the two palace guards shifted nervously on their spots.
"You two," Lu halted to address them, all smiles.
"My Prince," they both stood at attention; stiff as logs.
"I thought I said no visitors, mmm?"
"I-" one of them looked to the other.
"The General-"
"I gave the order my Prince," Shan leapt to the men's defence.
Lu turned his head in a jerking motion, like a snake sizing up prey, if the man's forked tongue began to taste the air about him; the General would not have been surprised in the slightest. "I see," his smile was impossible to read. "Ah well, I suppose it cannot be helped; my brother is very persistent, is he not General?"
"Very," Shan agreed with a hum and a nod.
"Annoyingly so," Lu rolled his onyx eyes.
Those eyes locked onto the guards and seemed to pour into their souls.
"Gentlemen," the Prince smirked suddenly, placing hands on each of their shoulders.
"M- My Prince…"
"Your Orders?"
"You've done well," Lu declared, and the guardsmen fought the urge to sigh in relief.
"Our thanks my Pri-"
"Wasn't finished," Lu's eyes sparkled.
In the right low light, those black orbs almost seemed to swirl.
"Fine service deserves fine rewards. Wouldn't you agree, General Shan?"
It was always a game with him. "As you say my Prince," he replied simply.
"Inside my chambers is your reward," the Prince smiled sweetly at both men.
"The whor-"
The other guard nudged his friend sharply.
"The ladies my Prince?"
Lu chuckled great and loudly at that.
"The whores," he agreed with the first man. "All yours, gentlemen; for the day."
The two guardsmen blinked and shared a look of bare confusion at that princely offer.
"I-" the boldest of the two said. "They three ladies are nobility my Prince, we cou-"
"Two," Lu corrected them. "One each…"
"T- Two?" the guardsman looked confused.
"The third is… what's the word General Shan?"
"Indisposed, my Prince…"
Lu chuckled. "Yes, very indisposed!"
"I-" The guard gulped, thinking better of asking.
"We're commoners my Prince…"
"All the more gracious of me, isn't it?"
Shan looked at them with a pitied look.
If they refused, it would be an insult to the Prince.
"Tell them I sent you my friends," Lu insisted, all smiles and honey. "They'll obey, worry not…"
"I-" The guardsmen bowed their heads.
"Thank you, my Prince," the second one said.
"Am I not a gracious man, dear General?"
"You are," Shan agreed without a fuss.
The guardsmen entered the chambers and shut the door behind them.
This hadn't been the first time Lu had been 'gracious' by any stretch of the imagination.
"The best way to men's hearts is between a woman's legs," he'd once told the General. He had the guard on his door changed on rotation and would always 'reward' service with his noble whores when he was done with them. "Their fathers would disown them of course, so they'll speak nothing of the guards."
There was a height of difference between laying with a Prince and laying with the common rabble, even if said Prince forced the issue.
As a result, though, those among Lu's guard had grown to love him one by one. He kept them happy, indebted, and largely oblivious to his nature.
When he'd first met Prince Lu he'd taught a single lesson: "There's no such thing as evil in this life, General Shan. There's only our want of things like power, comfort, sex, and then there's what we're willing to do to satisfy those wants. If you want it, fucking take it. If you can't win, then cheat."
Shan would do whatever was necessary to satisfy his want, even if it cost him his honor. Love was worth any price, wasn't it?
The Imperial Palace was near enough a city within a city. It laid at the heart of the Silver City and stretched near a thousand metres from north to south and eight hundred from east to west, enclosed by a great wall twenty foot high and near thirty feet wide; made of pure-white stone said to be blessed by the Dawn – their walls were polished diamonds against the darkness of night – none so large as the Imperial Palace, so vast that many named it simply the Imperial City. A second city within the Silver City.
At the inner walls corners sat great towers, with intricate roofs boasting seventy-two ridges that served as the most visible splendour to any commoners beyond, aside from the gates themselves that pierced the wall on each side. The greatest was the Lóng Gate – although it once had another name – two walled arms protruded on either side, forming three sides of a square. The gates were guard night and day by the Imperial Palace Guardsmen, usually handpicked for their skill or their loyalty.
The Lóng Gate alone had five gateways within, with the main centre entry forming the beginning of a stone flagged path that led inward all the way to the Imperial Place itself, named the 'Imperial Way' by its inhabitants. By law, only the Emperor and his immediate family were allowed to walk or ride on the Imperial Way.
And with over a million souls within the Silver City none save the nobility and palace guard were ever allowed entry into the forbidden inner city.
Traditionally, beyond the inner walls, the inner-city was divided into two sections known simply as the Inner and Outer Court. Entering by the Lóng Gate one stumbled into a large square, pierced by the Inner Dawn River which was crossed by five bridges. Beyond the square one met the Dawn's Gate and behind that was the Hall of Dawn, made of white marble three-floors some hundred feet tall above the level of the surrounding square; once the seat of the old Tamashī Emperors.
The Lóng Dynasty had used their great wealth – largely seized from the Tamashī and their allies – to construct a new palace beyond that of their enemies.
It was this new palace that the Lóng's called home, though it took many generations to complete. It towered over the Hall of Dawn set on a level of white marble connecting with the Lion's Gate to its south by a raised walkway. The palace was divided into many rooms on many levels, with countless beds to spare.
The first Lóng Emperor was said to have randomly chosen from any of these spare beds, changing rooms each night in fear of assassin's blades in the night.
It was in present day the residence of the Lóng Dynasty and used to hold court, receive ministers and emissaries, and to hold lavish banquets. Atop the palace roof was many gilded dragons, serpentine and roaring to give the building its name. The Hall of Dragons, named for the mythical beast on the Lóng family banners.
Other names included the Hall of Emperors, the Imperial Hall, the High Hall and many more lesser used titles. The Imperials never lacked for titles.
"Fanciful bastards," Prince Artos could only think at the sight of it all.
Winterhold was a fortress without equal, but this? This was something else…
The Imperials liked to flaunt their wealth – every Islander knew that – but he'd never seen the city with his own eyes.
For all their wealth the streets beyond these high inner-walls were dirtier, narrower, lesser in every way; not that any of the nobility seemed to care. He was no soft bleeding heart of a man to weep for the plight of the smallfolk, but these imperials made the Islands look nearly a paradise to those of lower birth.
If he weren't a Prince of the blood, then doubtless they'd have never so much as stepped foot past the Lóng Gateway.
Not that he hadn't taken note of all the stares and glances sent his way. He'd never been one for politics even among his own people.
To the city he'd down his best armour, unmarked and fresh forged with a direwolf of ebony running across its chest, flanked by a fine velvet white cloak held fast by a silver wolfhead clasp. He looked very Princely – an oddity for him in truth – though recent years duty had demand much. Atop his head rested a silver circlet.
The smell of death still clung to his clothing. They'd watched the Lóng girl burnt the night before, at the hour of twilight her pier was set alight.
It was an odd custom to him. In the Islands they buried their dead in family crypts bound by old runes and older magics meant to ward away evil things.
The Imperials did not bury their dead. Princess Cai's body had been cleaned, washed, then fitted into a dress as white as fresh snow before being laid upon a great pier of fine-looking cuts of wood. Priestesses of the Dawn had said their words, filled the air with smelling fumes and performed their rights, then the girl was taken by the flames.
As the sun raised over the white-stone walls of the city, what had once been Cai Lóng was now ashes. They would be scattered upon the next dawn. In death the Imperials believe that their souls would be taken to the heavens above to join the stars and the wanderers in the night sky, to live in harmony to live again with their ancestors.
Artos kept his opinions on such things quiet. He'd never been a religion man. He believed in the Old Gods, true enough, but he wouldn't call that faith. Not truly…
He didn't have the answers to such questions. Was his wife waiting for him in this Imperial sky or was it as his own people thought? When they died, their souls returned to the roots of the weirwoods, to be welcomed by loved ones, to feast in eternity without worry. In a way, he supposed that wasn't too dissimilar from the Imperials.
In the end of all things, their people and his own hoped for one common thing in death. Peace.
Artos only hoped they weren't all terribly wrong about that end, for the dead's sake.
"For mother's sake," he thought, drowning the bitter notion with a sweet gulp of imperial wine.
He felt weightless without his swords, having been bid to discard them upon entry to the hall; his scabbards were set upright against the far wall with everyone else's – besides the palace guard – the Emperor seemed more paranoid than his late father. Although, with the assassin issue, no man could quite blame his caution.
"Well," said young Loken Snow at the time. "If my steel has the Prince's to keep it company, mine may stay here, too, without shame..."
Mormont and Towers had been less inclined to comply with the orders, though a word from Lord Flint and a glare from their Prince put them to rights.
Inside the Lóng's Great Hall they feasted with friends – although Artos struggled to name them quite that – there was a dark sticky warmth that clung to this imperial air, and he liked it not. The hall was long and wide and filled with lights shining on mighty white-marble pillars upholding a lofty roof. Bright sunbeams fell in glimmering shafts from the eastern windows of remarkably clear glass. The floor was paved with woods of many hues; carved with runes and strange devices throughout. They saw now that the pillars too were engraved, gleaming with gold and silver. Many woven cloths were hung upon the walls, and over their wide spaces stood stone figures of ancient legend, some dim with years, some dark in the shade, but upon one the sunlight fell: that of a great marble serpentine dragon, roaring in defiance.
The beast on the Lóng's dragons was a creature of myth and legends, although Cregan had spun tales of Direwolves across the Sunset Sea…
That begged the question: did such beasts truly exist? And if so, where did they go? Artos sipped his wine and kept his wits about him, far from trusting.
"Her Imperial Highness!" called the herald, snapping Artos from his wayward thoughts. "Princess Lashi!"
The guests grew silent, turning to the arrival. The youngest Lóng princess descended slowly, her head lowered. The colour of her hair was identical to her mother's – onyx black – worn braided into two thick plaits which reached below her waist. She was adorned with a tiara ornamented with a delicately worked jewel and a belt of tiny golden links which girded her long purple-and-silver dress at the hips. Escorted by a page, herald, castellan, and her ladies-in-waiting, the princess took her place beside the Emperor; who filled her goblet and engaged her with a conversation that didn't seem to please the man in the slightest by the frown on his lips.
Lashi's eyes were permanently lowered, hidden behind her long lashes even during the noisy toasts raised to her around the table.
Many of the Imperials and some of Artos's own number were practically devouring the princess with their eyes.
"Well," said Loken Snow quietly, smirking at the sight. "What do you say, Prince? The girl's a looker…"
"Too skinny," Arving Mormont gulped down his remaining wine.
"Shame to waste her on Imps though…"
Prince Artos ignored the two men near entirely.
Who the Lóng girl wedded was no care his own – even if his brother Edrik had suggested arranging a new match between Stark and Lóng in wake of Cai Lóng's murder – he'd loudly refused the notion and left Edrik behind to rule Winterhold in his absence as the elder of them. He'd do a better job than him there at any rate.
"She looks sad," Gavvar Towers muttered.
"Oh?" Arving smirked. "I suppose you'll cheer the fair maiden up, eh Towers?"
Towers only scoffed and poured himself another chalice of wine from the pitcher he'd grabbed off one servant.
"An alliance would be-"
"No," Artos snapped at Lord Flint.
The man held his tongue in an instant.
Artos did not trust them. The Emperor had welcomed them with open arms and looked touched by his sisters passing – angry even – though words meant very little in this city of snakes. "I vow to the dawn," the Emperor had vowed with a serious look about him. "Together, we will bring these assassins to righteous justice."
"As you say Emperor," is all he'd given Lóng in response. "Justice is why I'm here…"
Who that justice fell upon exactly was still a matter of debate in his own personal opinion.
Liang had smiled charmingly and vowed once more, claiming they'd speak further after the festivities.
His party had been seated at a 'place of honour' not too far from the Emperor's seat, though far enough away to not insult the Imperial nobility.
Artos eyed the man himself – Emperor of the Dawn – with one of his nobles leaned over and whispered something; the Emperor looked at him sharply and, without a word, slapped his armrest with an open palm. The noble bowed and passed some command the palace guards. Artos didn't hear it, but he did notice how Princess Zhenji Lóng wriggled uneasily beside her imperial brother and stole wary glances at her sister Lahsi – sitting motionless, her head lowered, frozen to the world around them.
Heads raised and turned to the sound of heavy footsteps, accompanied by the clang of metal striking the floor, heard over the hum of nobility.
The approaching figure was clad in armour of steel sheets with a silvery-white cloak and armour-plated brassards bristled with small yet sharp steel spikes Clattering and grinding, the strange guest approached and stood motionless in the Hall of Dawn. "Noble lords, honourable guests," said the newcomer, bowing stiffly in his plate.
The hall eyed him cautiously, muttering among themselves as the Emperor leant forward on his high throne overlooking them all.
"I am Rin Akuma," the newcomer announced himself. Fifth son of Lord Joon Akuma."
"Greetings young Akuma," said the Emperor slowly. "I know your father, or – should I say I knew him?"
The palace guard flanking the young noble all tensed, hands on their spears.
"I come baring a message meant for Liang Lóng from my Emperor…"
The whispers hushed and spears were halted only by Liang's raised hand.
"Speak now traitor's son," the Emperor bid him with a scowl. "Why do you come here, at the dawn of my sisters passing?"
"Your Highness," one of the Imperial's darted to his feet and bowed low.
If the Emperor saw fit to halt him, he made no move to do so…
"Allow me to execute this stain on your honor!"
"A tempting proposition," Liang eyed the noble.
"You would not dare anger the Dawn's messenger."
That earned the Akuma boy no end no curses from the nobility.
"You speak well boy," the Emperor scowled. "Now, speak quickly; or you won't speak well for long."
Young Rin reached under his silvery cloak and brought out a sword and scabbard. In a flash, the spears were at his throat.
"You dare!" an Imperial noble yelled, jumping up. "No man brings steel into this hall, yet alone a welp demon-spawn from the boundaries!"
"Yes!" Another noble yelled out.
"We must slay the traitor's spawn!"
"It must be death!" and "Death!" and "Traitor!" rang out.
Rin's hands held the scabbard, wrapped in snow-white silk.
"Bring me my steel," the first noble demanded. "I shall remove this stain myself!"
"Yes!" Another noble screamed with the others. "Grant the Lord Raion his sword!"
Rin Akuma's dark blue eyes never seemed to blink. The boy stood still; scabbard held in both hands.
Emperor Liang held up one hand and his palace guards banged their spears on the marble floors. The nobility hushed.
"Let the traitor's son approach," the Emperor eyed the scabbard in the boy's hands.
Rin walked free of the spearheads and approached the Lóng Emperor without sign of fear.
The white silk was freed from his hands, falling to the halls floor; it revealed a scabbard of white-and-silver.
"In accordance with the dawn's law," Rin Akuma declared clearly for the hall to hear. "To prevent the effusion of blood and for the avoiding all foul deeds that grow from war, in the name of my Emperor Zihao Tamashī, the one known as Liang Lóng is called upon to answer a trial of his worth upon the soil of our people; so that the dawn may decide its rightful champion – its rightful son – who shall cast down whomever the dawn finds false…"
The hall was quiet. Those words had not been spoken since…
"Madness," it was Lord Raion to show his teeth first. "Ancient, forgotten madness!"
"The law is clear!"
"He insults the Emperor!"
"The Tamashī are dead," another noble screamed. "Lord Raion is right! Madness!"
"Silence," Liang said suddenly, starring down at them all. "Let him finish, my good lords…"
The uprising in the border territories was, to them, nothing but upstarts using the name of dead men for their own ambitions.
"This is the declaration of Zihao Tamashī," young Rin said boldly. "Emperor of the Dawn, heir to the Tamashī and-"
"Murderer," Artos was up and behind the young imperial.
Rin scowled fiercely at that accusation.
"His Highness is no such thing," he denied.
"Tell that to Cai Lóng," Artos stepped in front of the boy. "Tell it to my mother…"
"I-" Rin's scowl faltered a margin only briefly. "I know nothing of this – who are you?"
There was no malice in this one's young eyes. He was either a fantastic liar, or wholly unaware.
"My honoured guest," the Emperor declared aloud. "Prince Artos of the House Stark."
"What's this law he speaks of Lóng?"
"A parley of sorts," Liang answered, taking the scabbard from the boy.
He pulled the blade from its scabbard. The steel was as pale as milk, gleaming in the light.
"The sword of-"
"I know what it is, young Akuma…"
"I do not," Artos frowned. "Tell me, boy, if Lóng will not hear it."
The Emperor's eyes were too busy admiring the blade to take any offence.
"The sword of my Emperor," Rin Akuma explained simply. "Dawnforged from the heart of a fallen star…"
Artos huffed at that. "Tamashī parts with his own blade willingly? What does that mean?"
"He surrenders!" Towers barked some laughter at that, pouring himself another drink in supposed victory.
"Shame," Mormont hummed, sipping from his own chalice. "I was looking forward to good fight."
"No," Emperor Liang denied them, barely a whisper. "To send me this is no surrender, Islander…"
"It's a challenge," the scoff came from Lord Raion's side of the hall.
"What say you Liang Lóng?"
The Emperor eyed the boy in a flash.
"The advantage is mine," Liang said. "Why should I give your ghost such an opportunity?"
"It is law," the young Rin scowled. To refuse would be seen as the hight of cowardice and dishonour.
"Pah," Lord Raion scoffed. "Why should we believe these fables? This boy is a traitor; using the name dead men for his father's ambition!"
"I believe my eyes, my Lord," said the Emperor.
The sword was as starlight, white as snow, sharp as the dawn.
"Raion is right!" Another noble yelled from his table.
"Refuse my Emperor," Raion said in a hushed tone. "We can wipe this rabble from the Empire with our own hands – our own armies – this boy is-"
"The Tamashī are dead," they were all too quick to agree. "Refusal gives no cause for questioning His Majesty's honour nor courage!"
"Name me," Prince Artos declared, quieting the imperials.
Liang frowned. "That is quite impossible, Stark…"
"The challenge is for Liang Lóng," Akuma said firmly. "None other…"
It was as much a trap as it was a challenge in truth. Looking at the blade now, gleaming in the light, the Emperor could only scowl. His nobles preached well the value of refusal but would whisper of cowardice from the safety of their shadows. If he refused this match – legitimate or otherwise – the nobility would never forget…
They chattered and whispered even now, Liang knew, though his eyes never wandered far from the dawnsteel in his hands.
"My brother would never refuse such a challenge!"
Liang's eyes shot up and the nobility silenced themselves.
"You noble lords," Lu Lóng strode into the Hall of Dawn as if he hadn't missed his own sister's funeral, as if he'd done no wrong.
"Brother," Liang named him, frowning at his arrival. "You're very late…"
Behind him stood General Shan in his armour and his cloak. He was silent as the grave, watching, waiting.
"My apologies," Lu's smirk never faded as he strode, placing his arm around Rin Akuma and greeting him as if they were friends.
"Prince Lu," the Lord Raion greeted with a bowed head.
"What say you Raion?" Lu kept his arm around the boy.
"I-" The lord steeled himself, puffing out his chest. "I do not believe this boy – this son of traitors – sword or no, I do not believe!"
Lu only hummed his reply at the great Lord. His was a great house, rich and strong, ruling not far from the capital.
"So, you would give my great brother a fine excuse to avoid-"
"I avoid nothing," Liang practically growled, hand gripped around Tamashī's sword.
"I merely point out his Imperial Majesty's right to refuse," Lord Raion said, bowing to his Emperor.
"His Majesty would never refuse," Lu argued, freeing young Akuma from his grasp. "I do not doubt, he relishes this chance."
Liang only stared at his brother, then quickly looked back down to the sword in his hands.
"Boy," his eyes raised, locking on the young son of Akuma. "Return this to your ghost…"
Tamashī's snow-white blade was shoved back into Rin's hands. He hid his relief well.
"Tell him I accept," the Emperor declared loudly. He could do little except accept.
The field of choice was days ride from the capital. It was not unknown for the Imperials to settle disputes upon an agreed field at an agreed time, as they deemed it more honourable than unrefined total war, such agreements were often made. Wars were more often than not settled upon a single field – although not since the last Tamashī Uprising had the Dawn Law been declared – now once more a Tamashī had demanded it of his foes; to settle matters man on man and spare the loss of life.
Tamashī's army lingered across from Lóng's forces with a field of grass and flowers between them, two gleaming lines of steel on either horizon.
An hour past they'd met the Tamashī Prince at the fields centre to discuss the coming of the dawn.
"At the hour of twilight," the Tamashī had spoken his final words before he departed back to his army.
The supposed ghost hadn't looked anything like a ghost in truth, for all the Imperial's whispering and denials, to Artos he looked a young man no older than his youngest of brothers; with ashen hair and emerald eyes – he'd balked when Artos demanded justice for his mother, claiming to know nothing of it and placing blame at Lóng's feet.
All the diverting threatened to hurt his head. He'd not been in the Empire for more than a few weeks, but he already hated this place with a growing passion.
"He's just a boy," Liang Lóng had commented, back within the safety of his commander's tent at the heart of his great host numbering around a hundred thousand, their banners were a vast sea of purples, silvers, oranges, azure and gold alongside the few thousand banners of House Stark and the Sunset Islands.
"A brave boy," came the voice of Lord Raion. "He can't be more than twenty, no?"
The Tamashī hadn't faltered once upon their meeting, except for mention of Assassins.
"A boy all the same," Liang himself seemed confident. The sword on his hip was thin and sharp, with rubies in its golden hilt.
"You have this brother," Prince Lu's smile was bright and true.
"It's not too late to reconsider Your Highne-"
"No," Liang refused the nobleman. "I will fight."
"If you fail," Artos pried, eyes narrowed at the man.
"Have faith Stark," Liang chuckled. "We shall both have our vengeance this day, I swear to you."
Words were fickle things. Few men went into battle believing he'd leave as anything but the ultimate victor.
As the horizon began to glow with a dim light, Emperor Liang left the safety of his host with a wave of cheers. The gloom of twilight shun against his gilded plate engraved with serpentine dragons of gold; with sword raised as he walked forward to face the Tamashī pretender.
"They've trees to their rear," Loken Snow stood beside him, leaning absently on his sword.
"A trap?" Mormont wondered aloud, eyeing the foe across from them.
It was doubtful. From so far, they could not make out faces, but the enemy were barely half their own number.
Liang had called upon the central imperial powers to his side for this moment, to witness the end of the Tamashī line.
They were both on foot, gold against silver, with helmets donned and shields raised. They advanced till they were together and as per tradition, both bowed and seemed to speak, but it was impossible to hear their words from so far away. In a flash the two Emperor's swords flashed in the rising light.
For a second the clash could be heard but was immediately drowned as both armies began shouting and cheering from their sides.
"Well done, brother, strike him down!" shouted Prince Lu as he saw the Tamashī boy reel back a whole pace and a half. "Follow it up, quick!"
Emperor Lóng did, and for a few seconds it looked as if the fight might be won; quick as it was – until Tamashī began to press his advantage.
"Zihao! Zihao! Tamashī! Tamashī!" came the roar of the enemy.
Artos noticed the Lóng imperials turn white with dread and anxiety.
"Your brother is taking some knocks," he said aloud to the Prince beside him.
Prince Lu's expression was unreadable, still as stone, he kept his eyes firmly locked ahead.
The two Emperor's fell apart, appeared to exchange words, then clashed and circled; feeling each other's defences.
"His Highness is no fool," the ever-loyal Lord Raion commented, too soon.
In a heartbeat there came a wave of clapping and cheering from across the field.
"What happened?" Loken shifted on his feet. "I didn't see!"
"Tamashī nicked him," Artos answered with a frown. "First blood, just under his arm…"
"His Highness isn't raising his shield properly, he must be hurt," Lord Raion noticed uneasily.
It was plainly true. All could see Liang's struggle now. The shouting of the enemy host doubled.
Suddenly all the shouting on both sides died down. Artos was puzzled for a moment. Then it was the Prince to say, "They've agreed to a rest."
That was surprising honourable of the would-be emperor, having had the advantage; he ought to have pressed it.
When the Lóng Emperor returned to his men, he raised his sword up and earned a cheer.
"How's your arm?" Prince Lu was the first forward to ask with a frown.
"It's nothing brother," Liang said with a smirk. "The boy hurled the full weight of his shoulder on my shield – like a horses hind legs – the rim of his shield drove into my wrist. I don't think it's broken, but he followed in a flash and cut me. I've known worse…"
As two men wrapped the cut in clean linen bandages, Lord Raion asked anxiously, "What do you think of him, Your Highness?"
"Tough," said Liang. "Very tough for his age, I can't deny the boy that; he's been practicing for this moment…"
Prince Lu said very little, wishing his brother the best as Emperor Liang walked back to the centre of the field after a moment.
The new bout went well. Emperor Liang seemed to have made good use of their pause, making great use of his shield and better use of his feet. He was almost playing with the would-be usurper now, keeping out of range, shifting his ground, making the enemy work for every inch and luring him to lunge.
"Craven!" cried the enemy host. Hisses and taunts fought against the Lóng hosts own while the two men danced.
"He's quick," said Mormont.
"He is," agreed Artos. "Speed only won't-"
Tamashī landed a blow on Liang's helmet, sending the dragon staggering; slipping sideways to fall on one knee.
The roar of the enemy rose like a great lion, but Tamashī once again failed to take advantage of the opening presented.
His army cried out "Now!" and "Strike!" and "Kill!" and all matter of things, but the young tiger did nothing.
Liang appeared back on his feet and charged like a bull, clashing in such a wild flurry of blows that it seemed impossible for either man to not fall. As the excitement grew, the shouting almost died away. The spectators were holding their breath and waiting to see who might get the upper hand.
Artos watched with growing dread, a pit in his stomach filling with pile.
"What if the boy wins?"
The thought was drowned out by another.
He was honourable, this Tamashī, or at least he wished to appear that way…
Was it a ruse, perhaps? That seemed unlikely. The risks far outweighed the rewards and yet the boy had at least once if not twice given Liang Lóng a reprieve that he needn't have given. It could be arrogance that drove him, or confidence… or the boy was truly as noble as he appeared… that raised many questions…
A noble man, yet the wielder of assassins? The world was not black and white, true, but still…
"Trust none of them," his brother Edrik had counselled back home.
Wise words, but they had gotten him no closer to his answers.
Tamashī had allowed his foe another reprieve and Prince Lu had stormed off to meet his brother halfway.
A great shout arose from the enemy host as Tamashī raised his dawnforged steel. The boy was winning it seemed, as Emperor Liang practically limped across the field to be embraced by his brother; from where Artos stood things did not look good. In an instant though, they turned from bad to worse.
The word alone silenced all sides of the field.
"Treachery!" It was Prince Lu's voice, loud and angry.
The Lóng host shifted, muttering, watching with shock.
"Archers!" Lu shouted as his brother went limp in his arms.
"Treachery!" General Shan Yín shouted and drew his sword, ordering his men forward.
Prince Lu had slumped to the ground with his brother in arms, cradling him and removing his helm.
Once more Shan yelled "Treachery!" as he charged forward ahead of his men and a line of imperial archers.
Cries for "Treachery!" and "Lóng!" and "For the Emperor!" rang out from their lines as they broke into a sprint.
Artos held as hundreds became thousands, charging past him, leaping forward with General Shan towards the enemy.
"For the Dawn!" Lord Raion had joined the charge now.
"Prince!?" Loken Snow asked him, eyes pleading.
"Fuck," Artos cursed, then drew his swords reluctantly.
It was all he could do to yell "CHARGE!" and join the fray.
There was a Twang and a Hiss behind them as the Lóng archers let loose a volley.
With that came such a blast upon horns that it near tore ears asunder, lifted high, like thunder from the sky.
Lóng's horsemen thundered with banners of purple and gold and azure in the wind, they outpaced the footmen and moved for the flanks, roaring in their haste; their round golden shields shun brightly as the sun rose high at their flank; they rode and sang as they slew with the joy of battle upon them.
The whispering sound of arrow shafts tore the air above as a final volley flew into the lines of Tamashī infantry.
Artos jolted aside as one arrow hissed by his ear. The Lóng's were not caring who they hit; be they friend or foe.
Lord Raion stood as like a beacon rallying his men against the line of enemy archers.
General Shan had, in haste, punched a gap in the Tamashī line.
"To me!" He could be heard. "Push them now! PUSH! FOR THE EMPEROR!"
The fighting raged furious on the field; and the song of arms rose high, with the crying of men and the neighing of horses.
Horns were blown and trumpets were braying, and the horses wailed as they were goaded to war, the horsemen rode eastward to circle the enemy flanks: the Lords of the Silver City at their head, riding under the banner of the Lóng dragon – golden and defiant – they rode with voices cheering.
Another volley stuck and ended the life of one man beside Artos even as he cut down one then another, swinging and slashing.
He cut the legs from under one man and with the back-cut of the same stroke, cut clean another's head. The great wrath of the Lóng's charge had utterly overthrown the front lines of their enemy as great wedges of horsemen passed clear through the ranks of the Tamashī, bringing the fear of oblivion and riding their footmen to ruin.
And then a new horn sounded, low and bestial – it came from the woods behind the Tamashī host, with snarling teeth and razor claws out of the dark.
The horses fled from these creatures, like scaled men out of nightmare, they ran from the woods on all fours and leapt to rip and tear to shreds; as one knocked a horse aside and bit into its neck – the horse wailed, its eyes seemed to sparkle with terror until the light faded from them.
"To the Prince!" Loken Snow's voice rang out as Artos lowered his swords.
"Shields!" Mormont was at his side, half coated in wet red and dark brown mud.
The scaled ones ripped and tore through them as the horsemen lost all control of their horses.
Artos readied his swords, one long and one shorter; his preferred footing – only hoping his claws were sharper than these beasts.
They hissed as they charged only for Towers to roar like a bear and swing his greataxe in a mighty arch.
It cleaved through the scaled humanoid with surprising ease; only for two more of the creatures to leapt on the giant man.
Artos grabbed one by its shoulders and yanked it away as Towers picked up the other and threw it aside, his skin ripped to ribbons.
Up close, these things looked near human; only scaled like a snake – its face bore a row of razor-like teeth and a fork tongue hissed at him.
He danced back from its claws, the creature lacking any tact; its ferocity was its weapon. A quick flick of his wrist several one of its claws, the another cut its chest again and again, finally driving his longsword through its neck. "They bleed!" Artos screamed. "Slay them all! Winter is Coming!"
"Winter!" and "Stark!" ranged out, where their hope had briefly wavered it returned now tenfold.
Lord Flint was overwhelmed, falling to his knees; a great crimson-headed beast tore chucks from him as its red tail flicked about wildly.
Snow and Mormont – with the aid of several men – managed to impale the creature with several spears before it hissed in death and its tail halted.
Artos watched as Towers, despite his wounds, swung his greataxe with one arm to cleave the front legs off a horse, sending the beast crumbling forward. The rider struggled to get up, one leg pinned under the horse's weight as it wailed in agony. Towers left arm was limp and coated crimson.
He carved the Tamashī rider's skull in half with a swing of his greataxe before leaving the wounded horse to wail on the ground.
Another second rider swung then at Artos from atop his mount. Ducking backwards he avoided the blow easily and took the opening to stab upwards, into the riders swordarm, causing him to drop his blade in agony. Reaching up, the Stark prince grabbed the Tamashī rider's arm and dragged him out from his saddle.
His longsword drove into the man's neck before Artos tossed the corpse aside. To his joy when he turned back, his men fought on.
Taking the moment of peace to scan the battlefield he noted that General Shan's banners could be seen on the horizon at the enemy flanks.
"Where's the fucking Prince," Artos muttered has he caught his breath.
He brought his swords up on instant alone, as a force slammed into his side and sent him stumbling.
Whatever hit him Hissed and snarled as it pawed closer.
"Stark!" Towers had gotten between him and the creature.
It was of the same breed that had felled Lord Flint, only this one was twice its size; like some kind of twisted lion.
As it lunged and hissed, the creatures serrated teeth crunched down on Towers axe and its blood-red tail whipped about furiously.
"Run now my prince!" Towers was a giant a man – the blood was in his family – though one limp arm, his other was crumbling under the beast's weight.
"We've got this," Mormont gave him a hand, lifting his prince up from the floor.
Two grey wolves darted to Towers side and lunged at the created that pinned him.
It hissed as the wolves sang their fangs into the prey, forcing the twisted thing to release Towers and grab one wolf in its jaws.
As it shook its head, teeth ripped the wolf apart, shaking and ripping; it threw the wolf aside like it was little more than a discarded toy.
"As one," Artos snarled at the creature, now limping on its hind legs.
The one remaining wolf whimpered and seemed dazed, uneasy, it snarled and snapped.
Its eyes were focused and wide as a foam brewed within its maw and the wolf lunged wildly at everything nearby.
The creature hissed and picked the wolf up in its jaws, shaking its head around – though the half-dead wolf continued to bite.
"Strike now!" Artos commanded and they struck.
What Greycloaks were near drove spears up and through the beasts hide.
It hissed and threw the dead foaming wolf at its attackers, knocking those men to the ground.
The tail whipped at men to its rear, cutting skin like a barbed whip and smacking its enemy away.
Artos cried "Arrghh!" as drove his longsword deep into the beast's neck.
His shortsword, he drove into its eye – sending it limp and dead.
"Fuck," Towers was cursing, slumping up against the beast's lifeless form.
"Gavvar," Mormont was at the giant man's side in a flash. "By the gods man, you're bleeding like a stuck pig!"
He boasted a river of blood down his limp arm and an array of bite marks from the scaled men.
"Bah," Gavvar Towers scoffed and tried to stand, only to fall back on his arse.
"Sit tight you fool," Loken was at their side.
"Can't feel my fucking arm," Towers growled angrily.
"Fetch him to healer," Artos grabbed the nearby Greycloak.
The man nodded and ran off yelling for a healer as fast as his legs would carry him.
"What the fuck was that that?"
Loken stood bloodied, his breath haggard.
"It's dead," Mormont replied. "Does it matter?"
Loken only shook his head at that. He looked to the Prince.
Artos was busy scanning the horizon. The field was bloodied, the sun higher in the sky, the battle having raged for… he wasn't sure how long…
"Where has Lóng gone to?"
The Princeling was nowhere to be seen.
"Over there my Prince," Mormont pointed over to the east.
There the battle continued to rage, far more than their own side of the field; things were not yet finished.
"Mormont, stay with Towers and see he lives…"
"Aye my Prince," Arving Mormont hummed and knelt by his friend.
"Snow," Artos turned to the future Lord Sunstark. "You're with me…"
"Gladly," Loken nodded and followed suit alongside what remained of their number.
They crashed into the remaining Tamashī like waves against rock. Artos roared as he fought, swinging wildly and dodging like the wind. He would dodge and lunge for the joints in his foes armour while taking off limbs one by one like a man possessed. The men that fell to the ground screaming he would leave, moving onto new challengers. He blocked a sword strike with ease and slashed with a back-swing before driving his steel through visors, into and out the back of men's skulls.
With a grunt Artos pushed one man free from his longsword before ducking in a flash.
A swing of a large axe missed him by an inch and the axeman's eyes went wide at having missed, embedding his axehead inside the stomach of a fellow Tamashī footman that happened to be standing beside; in the wrong place at the wrong time. Taking the opportunity, the Stark Prince swung his sword and decapitated the axeman, with a look of shock still evident on his face as it rolled away onto the muddy and bloodied floor. The axeman's corpses flopped after his head rolled free.
No time to rest, Artos dodged another blow, dunking under the wide swing and moving to remove the fool's sword-hand at the wrist.
He didn't give the man time to scream, driving steel into the heart to silence him in an instant. As dead as dead could possibly be in a flash.
Kicking the man free from his blade Artos cut down another into crimson ribbons with his swords.
The man grasped at his wounds and stumbled backwards to the dirt.
There were cheers of "Lóng!" in the distance ahead.
Just then someone cursed loudly as a burning pain lashed across their back.
Loken Snow had lowered his guard for but a moment, jolted as a Tamashī man took the opportunity of his turned back to strike, no doubt aiming for the young man's head, yet only succeeding to rake the tip of his sword across his back. With the foes body fulling committed to his failed attack, he was unable to counter as Artos stuck him over the head with his pommel and processed to cut open his throat with a downwards swing. "Eyes on the battle Snow," the Prince scolded the young bastard.
"I had em," Loken protested, grunted at the sharpness of his fresh cut – thankfully for him, light as it was.
"I'm sure Snow," Artos allowed himself to smirk at the confident arrogance of youth. "I'm sure…"
To the west they saw Lóng banners driving the enemy before them: men and scaled beast alike, they were driven between another host of a thousand riders – as hammers upon an anvil – even as the Tamashī banners were thrown down the Lóng riders offering no mercy and gave them only ruin.
Now what remained of the Tamashī were bold and grim and fierce in their despair, as there was no surrender to be had here.
Emperor Liang had given orders to spare lives and yet it seemed those orders had been overruled or ignored. That was no good omen.
The sun had since risen up to light the field with a great burning, in its shine revealing the imperial blood that watered these grounds; this nameless field was red and littered with the dead. All were slain save those who fled to die, or to drown in the nearby river that now ran with red waters.
Artos found himself fairly unscathed, such was his fortune or his skill at arms. He'd lost count of those he'd slain a long time ago.
The haze of battle had blurred such things and he'd quickly lost track of how many lives that were lost. And many had fallen indeed, renewed and nameless both, captain and soldier and noble; war cared little for rank or birth. This great battle had watered the fields of the Empire red.
Prince Lu was found ahead, surrounded by a wide circle of Lóng men and nobles all, crowded and pushed for a closer look.
Artos had to shove his way through, as his Greycloaks held steel to many necks so that they would part for the Sunset Prince.
At the centre he laid eyes on Lu Lóng. There was a cold smile on his lips and great malice in his eyes where a fire seemed to burn against the onyx and his lips twitched to bare witness: the Twilight Prince was slain, his blood upon Lu's sword. His was the sword of the Emperor, all gilded gold, soaked wet with royal blood.
General Shan stood vigilant by Lu Lóng's side with a stone mask on his features.
"No, no, no, no," one man wept over the fallen Tamashī Prince.
"Prince Lu," Artos named the Lóng, though the man didn't turn nor reply.
"Brother," the unknown man held Tamashī in their arms, stroking his ashen hair.
"He's dead then…"
"No, no, no," again the man wept.
"You," Artos stepped forward, keeping one eye on the Lóng Prince.
The muttering of "No" and "Brother" were hushed between sobs and tears.
"This is over," Artos held firm to his swords.
The man looked up at him then – only it was no man.
Their eyes were emeralds, their hair ashen, their face fair.
"H- He can't be gone…"
He was a She, dressed in ill-fitted armour and weeping uncontrollably.
"He can't… he promised…"
Artos frowned, lowing his swords to the side.
The young woman held Tamashī and screamed like a banshee.
"Seize her," Lu's voice commanded with unmasked glee. "Gently now, I'd have her pretty…"
The Emperor's guardsmen stepped forward to obey.
Loken's sword met their throats however and Lu chuckled.
"Leave the girl," Snow demanded furiously.
"What's this now? A disobedient dog?"
Emperor Lu held out his arms and chuckled darkly.
"Lower your blade Sunstark," Artos commanded him.
"I-" Loken faltered at the naming.
"He is Emperor. You will stand down…"
Lu's smile was a twisted thing, daring, hoping for refusal.
"I-" Loken blinked, lowering the sword slowly and backing away a step.
"Good dog," Lu grinned. There was something in his eyes that hadn't been there before, a swirl of shadow in the dark.
The young girl screamed as the Emperor's men dragged her from Tamashī's corpse. Artos knelt to see it, the bloody red gash that had ended Zihao Tamashī. It was the last cut to be sure, though not his first. A hundred others had bled him dry as if the would-be usurper was cut by a thousand shards of glass.
"War," Emperor Lu Lóng sighed happily, sheathing his brother's sword. "War is a thing of beauty."
Artos Stark glared at the man before him and wondered if he hadn't found his answers.
My Note(s): We're a week late on this chapter in part because it's quite long and in part because the whole Ukraine situation side-tracked me in a big way; lots of conversations with some buddies of mine and running about that I won't bore you with but decisive to say Putin's kicked the beehive, the damn sociopath, let me tell you; the parallels between his actions/reasoning and Hitlers with Czechoslovakia are interesting. There's also stark differences too ofc. I'm a history nerd, won't bore you ha.
In regard to the chapter: The Silver City is effectively based off Beijing at least in regard to the city within a city side of things ;) and really, I could've doubled the length of this chapter, but felt it's best to not drag out the Empire plot longer than entirely necessary :P we've one more chapter when we're not back again till Chapter 69. As of now we're 54/75 chapters unless I add an extra somewhere, so slowly but surely, I'm finishing this thing then I'll start working on my Long and Sharp fic instead of Sunset :D
If I upload late again it's just because life is hectic… or because WW3 has started and I'm off to hunt me some Russians… either of those options really. I wish the people of Ukraine (and Me if WW3 kicks off at some point/nuclear hellfire rains down upon us heh) good fortune in the battles/fallout to come. Never surrender lads.
In the event of us all playing Fallout in RL soon, I'll be the idiot with a sword and horse (I have both already :P) demanding fealty as the King of New England.
FractiousDay: Your loss, these chapters are some of the most interesting in my own personal opinion but to each their own. I personally enjoy exploring the unknown areas of the world more than I do exploring Westeros and these chapters do have relevance to the main plot – especially towards the end of the whole story.
Iacopopasserini: Glad you're enjoying it :) I have to google translate your comments but it's always nice to see people liked the chapter(s)
Dave: The whole 'Empire' arch isn't too long (isn't the focus of the story etc) but it's enjoyable to write :P for me at least, I think it's interesting.
246vili: Zihao basically means 'Heroic Son' in Chinese from what my limited knowledge tells me ;) as a general rule though most of my characters (like Martin's) have shades of grey in one way or another; with maybe the exception of Lu who is a fairly morally 'dark' character for reasons that'll become far clearer in time.
Vantomane: I find most fics to be FAR too 'wish-fulfilment' and/or unrealistic to their setting – or simply outright bad – not to say I'm the best by any stretch of the imagination, but I'm a big fan of logical consequences. Life is messy, things doesn't always go according to plan; in the modern world nor in GRRM's world.