[A/N: Last chapter of 2021, happy new year everyone.]
The feasting hall was a sea of flags. Braavos' purple banners hung alongside House Antaryon's colours, flanked by the flags of the Alexandrians and Westerosi.
A Braavosi herald led the diners in, calling out each one's title as he or she entered. Rick was once again the leader of Alexandria, followed by the Queen in the North and Trident, entering hand in hand with the Prince of Dragonstone. The rest of the Grimes family entered next, though the Braavosi did not refer to them as princes or princesses, instead using the Alexandrians' misters and misses and missuses as Michonne had suggested upon their arrival. Princess Sansa led the rest of the Westerosi nobility in. Though now two realms, North and South were still bound by culture and blood, and in many ways the Alexandrians were still foreign to the people they ruled over. Yet Alexandria and Westeros and Braavos all ate similar foods and drank similar waters, and that was enough for tonight.
The Sealord stood to toast after everyone was seated. "To our friends across the Sunset Sea." Rick toasted their Braavosi hosts in turn, Arya to the friendship between all peoples at this feast. Lastly Carl offered to make a toast for the fallen, which the Sealord granted.
The food was far more splendid than any Rick had ever seen, even before the walkers in his own world. A cream soup and some crunchy bread started the feast, followed by a salad of green vegetables and fresh fruits. Next was a thick steak, the first slice of beef Rick had tasted in years. The other main courses came from the sea. Clams, mussels, eels and oysters; much to the Braavosi's amusement, Rick had to help his salivating children crack the crabs. They never had much seafood, he had to explain, and even in King's Landing their 'feasts' were far more modest while the city's food supplies were still being secured.
Talk began with recent events in Westeros. News of Alexandria's arrival and the War of Five Kings' conclusion had reached Braavos months ago, but the Sealord still wanted firsthand accounts of the war, the Braavosi listening intently whenever guns were mentioned. Oberyn and Wyman's smiles grew wider and wider when Rick talked of the Battle of Darry.
The wine was pouring by the time Carl and the Stark sisters took over to recount the Grey Wedding. "Pity the Crownlanders who fought on the wrong side," Aurane said after Oberyn interrupted with a vivid description of the gun smoke that engulfed the Red Keep that night. "But let it be said that no man from Driftmark fought for the Lannisters in battle."
Braavos had troubles of its own. The Dothraki had once again dared to venture near Saath and Morosh, while Pentos' technically-not-slaves servants annoyed the Sealord to no end. Several times he had tried to organise fleets to punish Pentos, yet too many in Braavos were content with their First Law ending at the mouth of the city's lagoon. The Sealord finally got his magisters to increase the fleet budget once news of the Alexandrians' arrival reached Braavos, another increase after the Grey Wedding. "Misers, the lot of them," the Sealord complained between glasses of wine.
Desserts came in the form of a large, man-shaped lemon cake. Blackberries were arranged upon the cake in the shape of three black dogs, complemented by lines of strawberry sauce on the cake's chest and head as if they were rivers of blood. It was a strange dessert even by Westerosi customs, but judging by everyone's smiles it seemed nobody cared.
Oberyn snatched the cutting knife away before the Sealord could give it to Rick. "I'd kill the Mountain a thousand times had Prince Carl not robbed me of the chance," he exclaimed, hacking off the cake's head in one blow. The rest of it followed seconds later, ending up on the other plates.
"I didn't know lemons grew so far north," said Wyman Manderly, after wolfing down his slice of Mountain in a few quick bites.
"We have our ways," the Sealord answered, carefully dissecting his slice with knife and fork. "And does your realm not have glass gardens in Winterfell?"
"Broken during the sack," Wyman muttered sadly. "At least that was what we heard from Bolton prisoners after we welcomed them with the Merman's tail. Nonetheless White Harbor has enough silver to rebuild Winterfell, and from our newly conquered lands we have enough gold."
"Speaking of gold, I seem to recall that the Iron Bank lent the Iron Throne a few million gold dragons, a debt that Noho Dimmittis tells me has yet to be repaid," said the Sealord.
"Noho would have also told you that the Iron Throne is gone. Destroyed. Kaput. And so are the Seven Kingdoms with it, a dead country that ain't no more. You'd have more luck trying to collect debt from a dead man," Rick replied.
"Yet one could collect debt from a dead man's estate if he left behind lands and coin. Alexandria and the Kingdom of the North now rule the lands that once belonged to the Seven Kingdoms. Even now you enjoy the benefits of its coinage, the Kingsroad, the other things that the Seven Kingdoms left behind. Should these two realms not bear some of the responsibilities as well?" the Sealord insisted.
"The Kingsroad was built by the Targaryens. They ruled over the North, that much was true, but the dragons had been ousted from the Iron Throne before our queen was even born, with an overflowing treasury and no debts to Braavos. As for coinage," Manderly fished out two coins from his pocket, both of Westerosi make. The silver one bore a wolf-head on one face, while the other had the portrait of a young man with Arya's spiked crown on his head. "The late King Robb had tasked White Harbor to mint our own coin with our own silver." He then set it down and picked up the other. This golden coin was slightly smaller but more finely made, except where Joffrey's head was defaced by the Stark direwolf. "My son took this coin off a slain Lannister captain after the Grey Wedding. Much of the gold that struck our foes' coins came from Casterly Rock, there's no doubt about that. Yet we both know some of it came across the Narrow Sea, to feed our invaders' hosts and forge our invaders' swords. Our realm will not pay the loans that were used to attempt our destruction."
The Sealord turned to Rick for support, but he was soon disappointed. "Lend to better people if you want your money back," Rick argued. At least the Iron Bank was the only debtor the Alexandrians and their allies to the North had to deal with. House Lannister was no more, though Carl and his Crownlanders still gave Tommen a stipend and sent gold to Dorne for Myrcella's upkeep, while the Faith was content with offers for better transportation to the Great Sept of Baelor. The Tyrells had pretended their loans to the Iron Throne never even existed in the first place, claiming a small anomaly of a million gold dragons when the Blackfish presented them with the ledgers.
"Fine, the North's debts are no more. But what of the south? Was it not Alexandria which invaded the Seven Kingdoms rather than the other way round?" The Sealord held out his glass. A servant came by with a jug, the white wine sparkling as it poured into the glass. "The finest Arbor gold," the Sealord said as he sipped. "As good as regular gold when it comes to repayment, now that the Arbor is under your rule. Spices, tapestries… even Alexandrian goods, if there are any that you're willing to part with."
"Carl already promised to repay the Crownlands' debt. As for the rest, I'll give you two choices. You can go to the next table and see if Tommen and Tyrion have a million gold dragons on them. Or you can help us take Casterly Rock from the Lannisters who are still holding out. The first million gold dragons from the Rock are yours. Deal?"
The Sealord raised his glass again. "Deal."
"We will try our best, but Braavos' power lies in its walls of wooden ships, not in Alexandria's walls of iron guns. There is little we could do to help take the Rock… unless we have better weapons, that is," Qarro added.
Rick couldn't help but smirk. The Braavosi would have to be deaf and blind if he didn't even try to get his hands on Alexandria's technologies. Rick was willing to give a lot of it away freely. Why re-invent the printing press when we can focus on making more radios instead? Eugene had asked when he presented Rick a list of things to be outsourced to the Braavosi, similar to another list that would soon be given to the Crownlanders. From musical instruments to fountain pens, from spinning frames to better steel furnaces, it was a list of million inventions large and small that would make everyone better off once those were made known to this world.
The Sealord read Eugene's list intently, until his eyes rested on a particular line. Then he laughed so wildly that Arbor gold flew out of his mouth and splattered everything in sight. "Canals? Alexandria means to teach Braavos how to build canals?" The Sealord's voice boomed. The nearby tables erupted in contagious laughter that began spreading across the hall.
But the Sealord didn't laugh for long. Next up on the list were the Alexandrians' marine technology. Some the Braavosi seemed to have, but not all, especially when it came to accurate navigation. "Every captain knows his position in the seas by finding out how far north or south, and how far east or west his ship had sailed. The first can be found by any skilled mariner with an astrolabe or an Alexandrian sextant," Aurane Waters explained. Under Eugene's watchful eyes, the Westerosi admirals and captains had spent much time learning how to chart their ships' courses across the Narrow Sea.
"That has been known since the dawn of time," said the Sealord. "But can the Alexandrians tell east from west?"
Aurane nodded. "They can, and Braavos soon enough. If a ship sees noon one hour after Braavos does, it will be fifteen degrees west of this Free City. One hour before, and it is fifteen degrees east. And so on and so forth."
"That would require a ship hundreds or thousands of miles away to know when Braavos sees noon," the Sealord pointed out. "Perhaps, if you have enough glass candles for Braavos and every ship, a way to light them all and the sorcerers to use them-"
"-or you can have a timepiece set to Braavos' time," Aurane interjected. A watch made its way down to the Sealord. "An Alexandrian timepiece," the admiral explained, "accurate and unaffected by the swaying of ships at sea. You can have these and the sextants, so long as you help us in setting up arsenals like your own."
The Sealord's eyes narrowed. "For what purpose would you need an arsenal like ours? To rival our fleets? To contest our fisheries? To dominate the seas?"
"The seas aren't yours, any more than all this world's lands are ours just because we have an army none can match," Rick replied plainly. "We help you build an arsenal like ours, and you help us build one like yours."
Rick was surprised when the Sealord quickly agreed. "As long as you will give us the same guns you gave the Northmen."
"We're not just building ships for war. The Crownlands are trying to set up ferries too, along the lines Aurane planned." Carl moved several dishes out of the way and laid a small map on the table. Four thick lines of different colours were marked on the map, weaving their way between cities and towns along the coasts. The thickest line started from King's Landing, through Driftmark to Braavos, and onto Sisterton and White Harbor. Another began at Duskendale, arcing through Driftmark, Dragonstone, and Claw Isle before ending at Gulltown. A third linked Saltpans to Maidenpool and Wickenden, before crossing the Narrow Sea to Braavos and Lorath. A final line ran from Rook's Rest through Driftmark to Pentos. "Ferries will call at these ports at regular times, so we can ship people and stuff from town to town."
"The Sealord will see that Braavos is on our map, and we have also heard of your influence over the magisters of Pentos and Lorath. If docks and warehouses are granted in these Free Cities," Aurane added. "Braavos will benefit from the increased trade, and from the tools and machines of the Alexandrians."
The Sealord thought for a moment. "You will have your docks and warehouses in Braavos," he finally said, "and I will also see to it that the Pentoshi and Lorathi grant you the same. All envoys and mail from the Sealord's Palace, the Iron Bank and the House of Black and White shall travel free on your ships. You will also set up ferries and mail for Braavos itself that run at cost. And-"
"And we'll need a lot of ships for the ferries. Braavos' Arsenal is the only place we know of right now that can make loads of ships at the same time. We have ship plans that can outsail any of your ships, plans you guys can have if you build one ship for us whenever you build two ships for yourselves," Carl suggested. Eugene and Aurane had finally reached a compromise the day before they arrived at Braavos. Rick knew little of sailing and even less of shipbuilding, but from what he heard the new seagoing ferries would have swan ship hulls and some sort of Alexandrian sail rigging. There would be new sail plans for galleys too, along with a few other modifications resulting in new ships called xebecs.
The Sealord shook his head. "Maybe Braavos will benefit from your ventures. But the Westerosi will benefit more, and the outworlders even moreso. These ships may be used as ferries and merchant ships, but they could be used as warships just as well. Soon your fleets will dominate the waters off western Essos with ships we had built. And then the realms of Westeros can impose whatever terms you want upon us by threatening to blockade. Helping set up arsenals across the Narrow Sea is one thing, but building ships for you in our own docks? The Keyholders would never agree to this, and honestly nor do I."
"What's wrong with more warships?" asked Carl. "I was told slavery still exists in some of the Free Cities, evil men who think they can outright own other people. With more ships we can kill every pirates in the Narrow Sea. We might even be able to take the fight to those 'Free' Cities and teach the people there what it really means to be free, and wipe this bullshit off the face of this world just as we did in ours after a huge war. Should we not do the same here?"
"Slavery has existed since the dawn of Mankind, young man. Braavos does its part, but even we can only do so much. What makes you think you're the one who can end slavery across the world?" Qarro asked.
"I won't. But he will!" Carl pointed towards his father. "Here's the man who led us against the fucking undead and win. Here's the man who brought down a tyrant in our world, and did so again in this one."
The Sealord's face froze in thought. He whispered a few words to Qarro in Valyrian, then turned to the Alexandrians again. "Your father? Hmm. I'll need some time to think about your proposal. Maybe Rick and I can discuss ferries after the feast."
But ferries turned out to be the least of the Sealord's concerns.
The Sealord's office looked almost spartan, not unlike Alexandria's own community hall where Rick spent most of his working hours back home. A desk of dark wood, unadorned save for the Titan's head carved upon its front. A bookshelf, with tomes and papers neatly arranged. And three chairs. One for the Sealord, one for Rick, one occupied by a figure whose head and face covered by a dark hood laced with rose-red silk. "Who's that guy?" Rick asked, after attempts to greet the figure had been met with dead silence.
"The High Priest of the Church of Starry Wisdom," the Sealord introduced. "He goes by many names, or so he says - when he feels like speaking, that is, though I have yet to coax even one name out of him since he arrived at Braavos. He does tell me many useful things though, particularly after you and your people arrived at Westeros. And I will need Alexandria's help on one of those matters."
Rick sat down on one of the chairs. "Fire away."
The Sealord cleared his throat. "A few weeks ago, Stannis' men had destroyed a host of Free Folk in a battle beneath the Wall-"
"Stannis?" Rick couldn't contain the surprise in his voice. Hadn't the last claimant of the Seven Kingdoms gone back home to Storm's End?
"Stannis," the Sealord confirmed. "I didn't invite you here to talk about him though. It seems what remained of Mance's host fled to Hardhome. Thousands, if not more. A Braavosi ship I sent had spotted fires along the caves lining Hardhome's cliffs. I would have sent a fleet to bring them here, but the ship also saw… shadows gathering in the nearby forests. Shadows not seen in living memory, or in the ten thousand years since the Long Night. Shadows which did not belong to the living."
"Walkers," Rick croaked. For nearly two months he had thought entering another world gave his people a much-needed respite from the undead, but even that proved not enough. How many more years of fighting walkers lay ahead of them? Would Carl still be fighting when he reached Rick's age? Would Rick himself still be fighting, leading old men with greyed beards with creaky guns in their hands? He shuddered as if a cold chill had suddenly blown through the open window.
"In the Common Tongue they are called wights," the Sealord continued. "Walkers, wights… we heard your people had fought them before in your own world. If the Alexandrian army can hold those wights back for even half a day, that should be enough time for us to get all the Free Folk on board."
A dark thought suddenly crossed Rick's mind. What if it was his own people who bought the walker virus with them? It didn't matter anymore. The Alexandrians would deal with the undead all the same. For the people of both worlds, for all the children under the dawn, Rick and his people shall not let this world suffer the fate of their own.
"Count us in. We've killed them before and we'll kill them again." Rick's revolver sat heavy in its holster, waiting for the moment it would be drawn again. "How long until your fleet is ready?"
The Sealord looked through his papers. "Two days, if we have enough men who aren't hung-over after the Uncloaking."
"You will need more than two days." The hooded figure in the corner finally spoke. "Your foes fear iron, but dragonglass is their bane. Ask your people to pick up every last shard of dragonglass they can find on Dragonstone, then send them to Braavos on your fastest ship. Or mine dragonglass at Skagos yourself. You still have time. The Free Folk can hold out in the caves for another three weeks, as meagre as their food stores are. Four, and some of them will have turned. Any longer and you might as well stay in Braavos."
"I will send word to Lorath and Ib for every last piece of dragonglass" the Sealord suggested.
"No need." Maybe the people of this world found another way to neutralise or destroy the walker virus. Rick was no scientist, he'd ask Eugene to do some research on this 'dragonglass' once the other projects were done. But a good old bullet to the head was also enough to kill a walker. "We leave in two days," he decided. "Our bullets are more than enough to take them on."
"If you say so," the Hooded Man said. "But I have a gift for you in case the fortunes of battle turn." He picked up a candle made of glass, its jagged black coat speckled with dark ruby spots. Then he set the glass candle on the table, and wound a piece of copper wire around its base, tying the two ends to an iron rod protruding from a nearby clay jar. Rick lurched back in surprise when the glass candle burst into flame. "This is a glass candle, set aflame by lightning according to the arts of your people. Yet this is not the only way if ancient lore is to be believed. The Valyrians used dragonfire until the Fourteen Flames scoured their lands. And when Valyria's first dragons were but fledglings, the mages of Asshai lit these candles with long lost spells and sorceries, back in that city's golden days when the Amethyst Empress still ruled… not that the candles did them much good anyway," he added with a chuckle.
The flames seemed to dance with a life of their own. Ruby flames, deeper than the blood that Alexandria had spilled, yet also as clear as the red dawn sky. Rick rubbed his eyes with his lone hand, one after the other. How could something be so dark and so bright at the same time? He stared into the fires again. Image after image flashed before his eyes, a blur of scarlet and gold and tiger-orange, but when Rick blinked to catch a better glimpse, all he saw afterwards was a small flame swaying under his breath. Without even thinking, his hand stretched outwards to touch the pretty flame-
The Hooded Man held Rick's arm in a strong grip. "Not yet. With much practice, a great man can cast his gaze across seas and sands and fields, even across the chasms of time itself. But there's an easier way to use these." Another candle appeared in the Hooded Man's other hand, flames already licking its razor-sharp tip. The Hooded Man blew onto the candle. The small flames erupted into a bonfire that burned at least thrice as tall as the candle itself. Rick followed on the Hooded Man's prompting. In his own fires, he saw the Hooded Man's face wreathed in red and orange and gold.
"Speak with your mind." The Hooded Man's lips did not move, but his cackling voice came through the flames all the same. "Or your voice if you want it that way. It makes no difference to me, or anyone else on the other end of the flames. I shall stay in Braavos for a while. If disaster befalls Hardhome, call upon me with this candle. Then the Sealord and the Northmen and your own people will be told, and help will come. But the days are not as dark yet, and you still have time to spend with your children. Good dawn to you," the Hooded man said ominously.
The Sealord opened the door, into the hallway where the First Sword of Braavos was waiting. "Qarro will go with you," said the Sealord. "He will also be on the journey to Hardhome two days hence. He will command the fleet, you will command the army.
"What about those staying behind? What should we tell them?" To their credit, Rick doubted his own people would panic at the thought of the undead. But the Alexandrians had been through far too much to have this well earned vacation snatched away from them. Only a few hours ago they were normal people again, taking in the sights and sounds of another city, watching fireworks explode overhead just as they would have done every Fourth of July in those old days. Carl was laughing and dancing with the girl of his dreams, as Rick himself had done at prom many years ago; for the first time ever since the walkers rose, Rick saw his son truly smile. Yet even this sweet memory had turned sour in less than a day.
"I will say nothing until your return," the Sealord replied. "Not to your people, or to the Northmen, or even my own Braavosi. Then I will summon the magisters to the Palace of Truth. You can tell whoever you wish, but please ask your Alexandrians to hold their tongues until I make my announcement."
"I'd tell my wife and no one else," Rick decided. Andrea had to know, she would be taking care of the kids while he's gone. The rest would enjoy their stay in Braavos for a few more weeks, free from worrying about the walkers again until the right time has come.
There was little else to discuss tonight, so Rick took leave of the Sealord and Hooded Man both. The palace's candles had been put out after the feast hours ago, the palace's gilded corridors pitch black save for Qarro's dim oil lamp, the two men's footsteps echoing upon the marble floor. Rick shivered as he walked. The night was much colder now, even moreso after that fateful meeting.
He clutched the glass candle close to his chest. Even now he didn't know how the candle worked. Magic, he finally decided. Was that what the Westerosi thought of Alexandria's own technologies too?
Qarro stopped almost an eternity later, at a wide corridor lit with dim torches. "Here I will leave you for tonight. Your room is at the end of this hallway. Your children are resting in the room to its left, your good-sister and her son in the room to its right."
Rick gently pushed on the door to his kids' room. Carl was smiling as he slept, maybe dreaming of the day's excitement, or perhaps anticipating the fun holiday they had before them. Judith lightly snored in her brother's arms, her hands in turn clutching a black-haired doll. He tiptoed in for a closer look, until he saw the lettering on the doll's shirt. LORI, Judith had scrolled with a sharpie. The elaborate stitching had to be Carl's, after all he had years of experience mending torn clothes. And after all these years, the siblings still grieved for their dead mother.
Rick crept over to the table where a candle burned and a wooden box stood, also sharpie'd on its side. Lost and Found. When Rick opened the box's lid, he saw two more dolls with mops of black hair. Jeffrey and Glenn, the shirts respectively read, the long dead fathers of Rick's nephew Edward and Maggie's son Hershel. About half of Alexandria's children only had one parent left. Some had none.
But the Westerosi children also lost loved ones. Two of the other dolls were nearly identical with pale faces and flowing yellow hair. One wore a red dress, while the other was decked in the white and silver garments of the Kingsguard, seven silver swords guarding a golden crown with 'Jamie' stitched within. Yet another word was scrawled beneath the swords and crown, in thick black Sharpie pen. Hero. Carl's writing this time.
Three more dolls remained in the pile. One wore brown hair, a golden hand threaded onto its fancy doublet. Yet another was made like Lori's but with red hair instead of black. The last doll also bore red hair, its nine-spiked crown of grey felt carefully sewn onto the string. There should be two more, Rick mused. The Stark sisters lost their two younger brothers too. A coil of red string rested next to the candle holder, along with messily placed pieces of cloth and felt.
"Sleep tight, little guy." Rick went over to the bed again, swooped down and kissed his son on the brow. Carl slightly stirred, murmuring something about Braavos' canals before drifting back into his slumber. As he kissed Judith's forehead next, Rick couldn't help but wonder: how many more dolls would his children make by the time he was done?