Well I got this one out in time… we'll see again about next weeks given that I've more than two scenes to do, hopefully a free weekend will give me time to write, though whether I do this or the Harry Potter story I'm enjoying more at the moment… I'm not sure.
As for this chapter however, we break into Season 4 territory. I don't think there's any storyline in the show now that hasn't been affected by Luke's presence other than the mutineers at Craster's Keep.
It's been a while since I've used it, but Valyrian speech is in bold.
I own nothing but the OC's. The characters and locations are the property of George R R Martin and/or HBO.
303 AC
The morning air had a sharp bite to it and Luke's breath was visible each time he drew one, but he kept his back straight and his hands firmly on the reigns of his horse as he rode up the main path through the Wintertown up towards Winterfell. He had been able to see the enormous castle ever since they had pulled away from the Kingsroad and with each step it grew more impressive.
The crowds of Wintertown had gathered to see him, and Luke was surprised at his relief to have Robb Stark beside him given the numerous glares that the people of the North were giving him. His relief turned to amusement however as from above a harrowing screech filled the air, and Valaxes swooped overhead flying towards the castle.
The road after Wintertown stretched a little further, and the party of roughly 400 men and a handful of women passed through the Winterfell gates, and into a large courtyard where the Stark household had gathered. Luke immediately recognised Lady Catelyn Stark from her red hair and strong resemblance to Sansa, and beside her he noticed a younger girl no older than about 15. Robb stopped his horse a dozen yards away from the gathered household and so Luke made sure to wait just a moment for the Lord of Winterfell to move towards his family before he too dismounted his horse, grateful to see that despite a number of hesitations they all bent the knee towards him. Walking closer to the gathered Northerners, he gestured with his black gloved hand for them all to rise.
"Your Grace, Winterfell is yours." Robb stated loudly enough for all to hear clearly.
"Thank you, Lord Stark." Luke responded in kind, and quickly a serving girl was pushed in front of him, holding a tray of bread and salt. Taking a chunk and dipping it in the salt he took a bite, knowing how much the North valued the display of guest right.
Once she had moved towards the rest of Luke's companions, Robb then gestured to the brunette woman the other side of his mother. "May I introduce my wife, Lady Roslin." Roslin curtseyed, repeating Luke's title, and Luke made sure to step towards the new Lady Stark and kiss her hand before Robb moved on down the line. "My Mother, Lady Catelyn."
"My Lady." Luke said quickly as Catelyn curtseyed. "You have my apologies for the murder of your husband. You have my word that those responsible got exactly what they deserved."
He could see her pursed lips, but Lady Catelyn was the pinnacle of proper decorum as she smiled all the same. "I am just glad I have three of my children inside the walls of Winterfell once more."
Luke nodded, a wry knowing smile on his lips. "Quite, and I won't keep you from them for much longer."
He stepped to the right again, and Robb introduced. "My sister, Arya."
"Where's your dragon?" Arya asked before Luke had a chance to do anything.
"Arya." Catelyn hissed.
Luke shook his head. "It is alright." He appeased. "Valaxes is likely off finding himself some dinner. He will be back soon, I promise."
"Can I ride it?" Arya asked excitedly.
"He's… not quite big enough yet." Luke admitted, though not as loudly as his previous comments. He turned back to the group of riders, noticing that Ser Barristan and Ser Rolly had followed him over to the Starks whilst Ser Franklyn and Ser Raymund had remained with Sansa Stark and Jaime Lannister. Luke turned to Robb. "May we be shown to our rooms, Lord Stark? The road has left me in need of freshening up before our evening meal." He was simply giving the Starks time to reunite, but a bath in the waters of the famous hot springs was also a welcome thought.
"Of course, Your Grace." Robb nodded. "Your men have been allocated bunks in the barracks, whilst yourself and the Kingsguard are in the Great Keep. Ser Benfrey will show you to your prepared chambers." He pointed to a man dressed in grey that had a look familiar of the new Lady Stark. "I'm afraid our Sept hasn't yet been rebuilt, nor has Septon Luceon hasn't arrived from King's Landing."
Luke waved that away. "No worries, I understand that the North don't hold to the Seven, I shall have to wait until I arrive at Castle Black to pray." He looked at the Frey Steward of Winterfell. "If you would, Ser Benfrey?" He asked.
The man stuttered nervously. "Of… of course, Your Grace. Follow me." And the steward started towards the castle. Luke allowed himself one look back as he saw Sansa begin to run to her mother's arms, and a small smile grew on his lips at the sight.
As the Starks were reuniting properly Luke had taken to exploring the castle a little more. He decided that he felt uncomfortable after taking no more than three steps into the ancient Godswood and had barely stopped to stand before the tree before he felt compelled to leave the holy place to the Northerners. The glass gardens had been interesting however, and Luke had been enthralled by the lessons of Ser Kyle Condon, the new Master-at-Arms of Winterfell as he was putting the guards through their paces, as well as the fine weapons and armour that had been coming from the blacksmith. The smith was apparently away from the castle on an errand however so the Targaryen couldn't go and express his admiration for his work, and instead Luke found his way to the door to the Crypts.
He was stood there for a few minutes staring at the carved Direwolf markings on the Ironwood door as the history of the place ran through his mind. Before him lay some extremely famous Starks that he had read about, but the statue he most wanted to see was Lyanna Stark's. Jon had never been one to take care over his words when it came to the woman that had ensnared Luke's oldest brother, with the Connington blaming her more than anybody else as the cause of the war.
Luke couldn't bring himself to enter though, with something at the back of his mind stopping him from pushing open the doors, and instead he led his Kingsguard further around the castle, stopping at the stables to see Grey Wind from a distance before Benfrey Frey led him to the bathhouse.
They were underground too, like the crypts, and as Luke got closer even his dragon blood was feeling warmed in the intense heat that was filling the corridor. By the time he reached the pools he was ready to strip off, and with his guard stood at the door he took off his clothing and sunk into the water, relishing in the heat.
He was there for a while, partially dozing off in the water, before he heard voices coming from the doorway. Noticing the dulcet Northern tone of his Warden of the North Luke called. "Let him in."
Robb Stark then walked through the door, unceremoniously dumping his sword belt on one of the benches before untying his shirt. "I didn't expect you to be here, Your Grace." The Northman stated.
"I wanted to tour your castle, we don't see many in Essos and most of those I've visited this side of the Narrow Sea haven't been overtly welcoming." Luke acknowledged. "Battle beforehand does that I suppose."
Robb looked like he could relate, as he dropped into the water a few feet away. "Aye, I noticed that in the West." He said, Luke's thoughts correct. "There's no castle like home though." Nodding, Luke realised how much he missed Dragonstone. He was about to think more on the Valyrian castle when Robb continued talking. "I believe you're the first Targaryen to sit in these springs since your namesake's brother during the Dance." He smirked then. "The first silver haired Targaryen since Jaehaerys and Alysanne."
"Relations between our houses have often been strained." Luke admitted.
"Because you keep taking from us." Robb said quickly, before closing his eyes in annoyance. "Forgive me, Your Grace, I am still learning I'm not a King any longer."
Luke nodded. "I was brought up a sellsword where decorum was questionable at best, despite Jon raising me as a Prince. It is not me you offend with blunt words, Lord Stark, though there will be some that would want me to have your tongue. I am not one of them, though more talk of potential rebellions and I might be less forgiving."
Robb nodded back, his eyes amused. "Words are wind, but my stance on my distant kinsmen needed to be clear. The North has its pride and the war only heightened that pride, many think we do not need you. Father always pressed on me the importance of cooperation during winter in my lessons with him however, and winter is coming."
"That it is." Luke nodded, starting to relax more in the warm waters, though he wanted to steer the conversation away from the Karstark girl. "What can I expect from the Wall? Most in the South consider it a joke, though I do not get the same impression this side of the Neck."
"You won't." Robb shook his head. "The Night's Watch is an honourable calling in the North and many Starks have served on the Wall in its time, my Uncle and Brother are two among many."
Luke had heard the rumours of Benjen Stark going missing, presumed dead, and again didn't fancy going down that avenue. "Your brother?" He asked.
Robb nodded. "Jon." Luke's confusion must have been clear on his face even through the steam, as Robb explained, albeit distastefully. "My bastard brother."
"Ah, of course." Luke said, though he wouldn't admit that he had no knowledge of Ned Stark having a bastard. "I look forward to meeting him."
A silence fell over them then as the pair relaxed into the warmth of the water for a few minutes. Luke went to close his eyes, comforted by the warmth, when Robb spoke again. "You're not what I expected, Your Grace, if you don't mind me saying."
"Oh?" Luke asked, not opening his eyes.
"I grew up on stories… not nice ones… about your Father and Brother." The Stark explained. "Then we hear of the Beggar King across the water, and the savagery of the Golden Company. I half expected another Maegor." Luke's eyes shot open as he glared. "I mean no offence, but your reputation was bloody."
"We all have to do things to survive." Luke explained, his voice cold. "In Essos we lived from one contract to the next, and Essos is a bloody place filled with city rivalries."
"Whereas we have familial rivalries." Robb shrugged. "A lesser scale, I gather?"
Luke shook his head. "Not particularly. The people of Essos don't muster men like we do here. Perhaps they're more prosperous for that as the valuable members of society don't get killed off in some Lord's war, but they rely on their gold, not their strength."
"A strange place." Robb commented, knowing no more than his small corner of the world. "But instead I find you in person to be more like the stories of your more peaceful ancestors."
"Don't mistake my wish for peace for weakness." Luke stated. "I've been a sellsword for most of my life and that doesn't go away easily. I was fully prepared to bring you to the sword as I did with House Baratheon and Lannister, like I still might need to with House Arryn. But what will that get me? My House is not well liked, the sins of my predecessors still burn brightly, I see it in peoples eyes as I meet them. Like you, everybody is expecting me to be like my Father, or like Maegor as you thought. But what happens if I bring the continent to its knees that way? At best I rule a while and whispers of rebellion begin to fester, if not in my lifetime then my sons. At worst? I get a dagger in the back before I have a chance to change perspective. I do not see peace as weak, I've lived more war in my life than many hardened generals and I am not even a quarter of a century old. I want rest, and I want prosperity for my lands."
Robb looked like he was absorbing that information for a moment. "You have the backing of House Stark." He said slowly. "Once I've razed Pyke to the ground I'd like nothing more than rest. To build my House back from the ashes. That is something on which we can agree."
"I'm glad." Luke said softly. "We have prospered together, despite our somewhat frosty relationship over the years." He added with a knowing smirk for the pun.
"I will write to the Eyrie." Robb offered. "Though Aunt Lysa was silent during my pleas for the Vale to join the war on my side so I can't promise anything."
"It can't hurt." Luke admitted. "Though I'm not sure Lysa Arryn will be in command for much longer." And he began to explain the intricate details of the Vale situation to the Stark, talking about Petyr Baelish, Jon Arryn's murder and his own actions in pushing the Lords of the Vale into action.
Robb wasn't overly happy at the things he was hearing, but he also didn't look angry. "Mother will be furious." He whispered. "You are sure? That Lysa murdered Lord Arryn?"
Luke nodded. "Positive."
Taking a deep breath and exhaling loudly through his nose, Robb nodded the once. "I should be the one to tell Mother. She trusted Littlefinger and persuaded my Father to trust him too. This knowledge after what ended up happening to Father… she will not take it well."
Luke knew that that was for the best, and he was glad that he wasn't staying at Winterfell for an extended period to see the former Lady Stark's reaction. "Of course." He agreed.
Robb moved towards the steps then and rose out of the water, hastily putting his clothes back on. "The feast will commence at sundown, Your Grace." He explained. "I shall send Ser Benfrey to fetch you beforehand."
"Thank you Lord Stark." Luke responded, before he watched Robb bow his head and depart the bathhouse, leaving the Targaryen King alone in the waters, his thoughts turning to marvel at the hot springs that flowed through the Northern fortress.
After Ser Janos Slynt left the Capital with as many men as the dungeons could spare and a promise of more from the Reach and the Westerlands, ruling of the Seven Kingdom's fell into a bit of a lull. As Prince Oberyn continued to tease information out of Littlefinger, the rest of the Small Council as well as the Queen found themselves dealing with the more mundane issues of governance.
"Lord Walder Frey has finally agreed to wed his daughter to Ser John Mudd now that peace has been struck in the North." Margaery's Great Uncle, the Grand Maester Gormon explained as he handed Jon Connington a raven. "Lady Amerei's mother was a Darry and has recently lost her own husband. She will arrive at Darry within the fortnight."
Jon nodded curtly. "Very good. Having Darry back in crown loyal hands is important. Lord Edmure hasn't made an issue of this?"
Varys shook his head. "Not Lord Edmure, no. But there are some in the Riverlands that resent the King's meddling."
"They should be grateful that His Grace doesn't execute them all for treason." Margaery's father exclaimed.
Jon felt as the Queen did at that moment and voiced his disagreement. "The King has made his views on the houses that formerly claimed independence and we shall follow his commands, whether we agree with them or not, Lord Tyrell."
Mace began protesting. "I never meant to suggest…" He trailed off.
"We understand, Father." Margaery smiled to placate him. "But past Targaryen King's have suffered after acting cruelly to every perceived slight. We do not want that to happen to His Grace, do we?" Mace simply nodded his agreement, and so Margaery turned to Jon. "With the North and Riverlands back in the fold, perhaps we should start planning the Westerlands procession? We need not confirm dates, but organising the route and length of the visits can be done, can they not?"
Jon thought for a moment. "Yes, and the number of men that you should take." He murmured. "My Queen, why don't you and the Grand Maester begin arranging this with Lord Tyrion? They are now his lands, after all."
Margaery got a strong sense of dismissal from the Hand of the King's tone, but diligently she nodded her head, not wanting to argue as a slight queasiness fell over her. She let the Small Council go about their business without further interruptions as Lord Velaryon began detailing the progress on the new royal fleet and Prince Oberyn updated the Small Council on his newly legitimised daughter Nymeria having met with Lord Perwyn, the eldest of Walder Frey's sons with Rosby blood, in the past week.
The meeting didn't last too much longer after that, and once Jon Connington dismissed everyone Margaery was quick to hurry to her rooms where she had a long drink of lemon water and made to lie down, dizziness overcoming her. She wasn't left alone however, as her handmaiden Mira was allowed in holding a letter. "Your Grace, this arrived from Winterfell in the last hour." The Northerner explained.
"Place it on the side, Mira." Margaery muttered. The Northerner did as she was asked before moving to sit on the side of Margaery's bed.
"Are you feeling alright, Your Grace?" Mira asked. "Shall I fetch the Maester?"
Margaery shook her head. "No, I just need a rest." She pushed herself upright so she was sat with her back leant on the pillows. "Pass me the letter, I best read what the King has to say." A moment later and Margaery had broken the wax seal and was combing through her husbands words. "He is enamoured with the workings of Winterfell's hot springs." She explained. "And wishes he could stay longer but must travel up to Castle Black."
"The raven will be days old." Mira explained. "The King is likely closer to Ironrath than Winterfell now."
Margaery smiled. "Your home. Tell me about it?" She really just wanted to close her eyes and think of anything but her nausea, so enjoyed hearing Mira talk about the Ironwood Grove and how her siblings would play there as children. Her speech faltered as she mentioned her parents, and Margaery was about to lean over to comfort the girl about the loss of her father when she felt something more than queasiness overcome her, and she leant over to the nearest plant pot and retched, before following that up with vomit.
"Your Grace!" Mira was shocked out of her sadness as she jumped to her feet to grab an empty bowl, handing it to the Queen. "I should really get the Maester!"
Margaery nodded. "Yes." She grimaced, the taste of vomit in her throat as worry overtook her. "I believe that may be best."
Bran Stark was still annoyed about his telling off from that morning when he and his travelling group found the Weirwood Tree. Usually he would have just told them to move on and get to a better spot before nightfall, but the way Summer was looking at him whilst standing next to the sacred tree was giving the young Stark pause. "Hodor." He stated, as the gentle giant lowered the sledge to the snowy ground. "Take me to the tree." A moment later and Hodor had lay Bran down an arm's length away from the Weirwood, and the Stark stared up at the placid face carving, before reaching up with his arm and placing his hand on the white bark.
His eyes rolled back into his skull and Bran immediately saw the largest Weirwood tree he had ever seen atop a picturesque hill, until the scene before him changed to clustered roots. Then the Three Eyed Crow he had been dreaming about for years looked at him pointedly before it launched into the air and flew through the Winterfell Crypts.
Bran then saw his father twice, oiling Ice in the Winterfell Godswood and in the Black Cells of the Red Keep, illuminated only by fire before all Bran saw was snow, as the sun rose in the west and set in the east, illuminating the large Weirwood once more.
"Look for me!" An old voice called, as a raven perched atop a tree in the Wolfswood, looking out towards a snowier forest as a young girl stood lifeless between the trees, only turning round when a flock of hundreds of ravens flew at Bran.
The tree quickly returned as the voice sounded once more. "Beneath the tree." Before it faded just as quickly to an image of a rotting horse chewing.
Then he saw a courtyard with the Red Keep standing proudly in the background, red cloaks and green cloaks piled up with pools of blood flowing from their bodies. Winterfell came next, standing proudly in the snow until it exploded in bright orange fire…
Then the tree was back, and the voice sounded again. "North!"
Gasping, Bran was thrown back into his own body unceremoniously and the hand that was supporting his weight on the Weirwood tree dropped into the snow, leaving Bran panting as he thought on what all that meant. The image of the tree was the main thing that came to mind as he slowly relaxed, and without even looking at the Reed's, he stated. "I know where we have to go."
The Grand Maester being family was beneficial, and the Queen was only waiting for ten minutes before the elderly Tyrell burst through the doors and began performing all kinds of checks for different illnesses. When all of those came back negative, Gormon began to grin slyly.
"Your Grace… how long has it been since your last moonblood?" The Grand Maester asked.
The question took the Queen by surprise. "My last… what?" She stammered. "Oh…" She had honestly forgotten.
Thankfully, Mira was there to help her out. "It started on the ship back from Dragonstone, Your Grace."
"Yes that's right." Margaery remembered it being a particularly painful period. "So nine… no ten weeks ago?" That just made the Grand Maester smile even more, and Margaery was finally beginning to see what their implications were. "Oh…" Her hands slowly made to cup her belly. "You think?"
Gormon nodded. "I want to keep a closer eye on you for the next couple of weeks, but my suspicion is that you are with child, Your Grace." He began scratching out notes on some parchment. "I will need to send to Oldtown for a Maester more suited to childbirth of course, my expertise lies elsewhere." He mumbled some more as he wrote, until he folded that up and placed the notes in his robe. "I will return in the morning, Your Grace. Try and get some rest, I shall see to it that your dinner is sent up to you."
The Queen felt queasy at the thought of eating, but she nodded. "Thank you, Grand Maester." She said politely, watching him as he turned his back and left through the doors. "Seven Hells…" She whispered once they had shut. "A baby?"
"Congratulations, Your Grace." Mira grinned.
That knocked Margaery out of her shock. Of course this was good news, this was what she was there to do, to birth and raise an heir to the Iron Throne, a little Prince with Tyrell blood. Her hands returned to her belly, and her imagination led her to see a young boy with long silver hair running around in green clothes. The thought made her smile wider than she thought she could.
After two days inside Winterfell Luke was quick to get on the move once more, eager to get to Castle Black to meet his two times great uncle as well as assess the dangers that this King Beyond the Wall posed. The couple of hundred mounted Targaryen men rode steadily along the Kingsroad, and the Targaryen King was cursing the size of the North when they finally crossed the border from the North to the New Gift… three weeks after having left Winterfell.
The ride was dull, but it served to give Luke a greater understanding of the North, and by an extension the rest of his people. Things were much more different in the North to anywhere he had ever experienced, and when Luke compared his population's biggest extremes, the southern Dornish to the people that surrounded him in the North, the scale of his rule truly hit him.
It was during one of these silent reflections as they passed the next border to Brandon's Gift when his hackles were raised. Looking around frantically he couldn't see anything worth the feeling of dread, with the only thing noticeably in the distance being the Queenscrown tower to the west, but still the feeling of alertness wouldn't leave the King.
"Hold here." He ordered, calling his men to a halt. He looked over at Ser Barristan. "Something is wrong."
"I hear nothing, Your Grace." The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard responded, but it didn't dissuade Luke from feeling panicked.
The reason became clear not ten minutes later, as the screeching of Valaxes sounded in the air. Luke turned westwards once more to see his dragon racing towards him, with his wings flapping more frantically than usual. "He's hurt." Luke stated angrily, dismounting his horse and moving to a clear part of the Kingsroad, where the black scaled dragon dropped unceremoniously to the ground, painful screeching filling their ears. A pair of white fletching arrows poked out of Valaxes' shoulder, and his teeth were dripping with blood. Luke dropped to his knees and stroked the dragons mouth. "What's happened to you?" He said quietly in his native Valyrian to the dragon. "Who did this?" Drogon simply purred, nuzzling Luke with his snout.
"Over there." Ser Rolly stated from behind him, and Luke looked at where the Kingsguard knight was pointing to see a plume of black smoke a few hours ride away.
"Take Ned, scout the area." Luke ordered not taking his eyes off Valaxes, and not two seconds later he heard the gallop of a pair of horses. Luke ran his hand across the dragon's neck to soothe the beast before he gripped one of the arrow shafts and yanked it out. Valaxes roared and hissed in Luke's direction, but the Targaryen remained firm, knowing that he wasn't going to be harmed. "One more." Luke stated clearly, throwing the first arrow down before reaching for the second one. Valaxes hissed again, but Luke simply glared at the beast unflinchingly, causing Valaxes to back down and settle in. Luke pulled the second arrow out to less of a fuss, before he tore some of his cloak to put pressure on the wound.
Eventually one of the camp Maester's joined him at the head of the party with some better equipment meant to stop the bleeding, and by the time Ned and Rolly returned Valaxes was less grumpy, and simply more tired.
"We saw Wildlings, Your Grace." Ned Dayne explained as an owl hooted overhead. "They're recovering. Valaxes must have taken out half a dozen before his injuries.
"No more than three dozen." Rolly explained. "No horses, but they're moving quickly, I think they know where we are."
Luke's mind shifted completely to battle mode. "Form up!" He called, mounting his horse again and pulling Blackfyre from his horse's scabbard as well as a shield. "Into formation!"
The red cloaked men behind him moved from two abreast to line the Kingsroad in a defensive formation, surrounding Valaxes who was looking around alert, though staying on the ground. Luke tried to listen out for any movement, but the wind was starting to pick up and the rustling of the nearby trees was getting louder, along with the hooting of the local owl.
Suddenly an arrow whizzed out from the tree line and stuck itself into a man three horses down from him. "SHIELDS UP!" He cried, and the call followed down the lines.
"What are your orders, Your Grace?" Ser Barristan asked.
His anger was still there at the audacity of some savage attacking his dragon and the temptation to call for a bloodbath was high. Tactically however, he knew that the King Beyond the Wall would only send someone he trusted to lead a flanking assault and so there might be some useful men in the group. "Capture if you can, but only if you can." Luke stated, and again the call went out.
Another arrow fizzed in his direction this time, but Luke caught it in his shield, noticing the same fletching as the ones that stuck in his dragon. Growling, Luke pointed Blackfyre in the direction of the archer and waited.
First out of the treeline was a huge bald man with an even larger axe, closely followed by more bald men in tattered furs. Luke let his horse rear as he called. "CHARGE!" And he spurred his horse on, closing the distance quickly before he swung Blackfyre, connecting with one of the Wildlings and splitting open his skull.
He wheeled around after the initial charge, there not being enough Wildling attackers to fill rows, and he hacked out at a hairy wildling this time, before spotting the largest of the bald Wildlings rush at him. Luke charged and swung once more, but the man ducked and swung back, causing Luke's horse to scream out in pain before it fell. Jumping from his saddle, Luke was quick to roll into a better position and jump to his feet, angling Blackfyre at his assailant.
"You're the kneeler king?" The man sneered. "When I kill you, I'm going to feast on your flesh. I bet King tastes good."
Scowling, Luke flicked Blackfyre around in his wrist before jabbing out and getting parried with ease. He swung again, before having to duck under the battle axe and blocking the next swing with his shield, a jolt running through his arm at the impact. Caught in the dance of attacking and parrying, the two traded blows quickly and it took all of Luke's training to stay away from the dripping red edge of the axe. A couple of minutes into the fight and Blackfyre was batted out the way forcefully, with Luke barely clinging onto the blade and becoming unbalanced, and he was forced to roll out the way of the next assault, bringing his sword up through the next nearest bald Wildling before facing the leader once more. With a roar he pushed into the attack, swinging Blackfyre at all angles to try and push the man back towards the Kingsroad. It took more effort than Luke would have wanted to, but finally he was in position and he started to grin. That seemed to anger the axe wielder, but behind him lay Valaxes, who perked up and let out a roar, getting the attention of the Wildling and allowing Luke to ram Blackfyre through his torso.
"You're the one that will be feasted on." He snarled. "Devour him." He added in Valyrian, and Valaxes took one moment to register the command and chomped his razor like teeth over the Wildling's head, reaching down to his collar bone before Luke heard the crunch of flesh and bone among screams.
Turning around he saw the battle was basically over. Some Wildlings had dropped their weapons and were being manhandled away, but dozens lay dead from both sides. Letting his guard down, Luke went to catch his breath for a second, when barrelling towards him came the owl that had been distracting him from earlier, claws first. Luke brought his shield up to bat it away, but the second time his arm was too late and he felt a sharp pain above his left eye. Snarling in pain he punched out with his shield hand before slashing with Blackfyre, and the owl dropped to the ground.
"What the fuck was that." He snarled, grimacing as blood began to run down over his eye. Holding a gloved hand to his wound he looked around again and saw the battle was done, and his ten or so prisoners were being tied up. Walking the few yards to his Kingsguard and squire, he let Ned call for a Maester as he decided what to do. "We make for Queenscrown." He stated, wincing as he brought his hand away from his wound. "Those that aren't injured start gathering wood for pyres, we burn the bodies before we move on."
"Your Grace." Rolly bowed, seeing that the orders were followed. Luke then turned back, grinning as he saw his dragon happily chomping on the largest of the Wildlings before he was almost assaulted by the camp Maester looking at his eye.
Some horrible looking paste smeared onto his brow and a short walk later, the Targaryen party were setting up camp inside the village that surrounded the Queenscrown lake. Luke was relieved to be able to settle into his tent as soon as it had been erected, and the Targaryen King drifted off to sleep almost as soon as his head hit his pillow.
I wrote the first scene whilst listening to 'Arrival at Winterfell' on repeat which probably won't surprise anyone given the parallels to Dany's arrival in Season 8. I've rebuilt the Winterfell household completely too, and Robb has given two roles to his wife's family…
The Bran scene, like the first one, has strong, if not stronger parallels to a show scene. This time Bran's vision in 4x02. Unlike there though, I've changed the 'future' segment (Bran's visions showed hints as to what would happen in Season 8) to fit this story more accurately. Good luck with your future guesses, but I'm not spoiling it despite Season 8 being 33 chapters away!
Kudos if you recognised some of the Wildling characters! For those that didn't, the main two people killed by Luke were Styr and the warg, the latter of whom was in the owl that will give Luke a nasty scar above his eye. This will also leave Luke worrying more about Valaxes roaming off here there and everywhere.
And back in King's Landing… Margaery is with child! What will this mean for the rest of the Targaryen's in the capital? Well wait and find out…
Thank you all for reading, I hope you enjoyed the chapter.
Next Time: Luke arrives at the Wall to meet his Great-Great Uncle, while Jon Snow pays one of the Wildling prisoners a visit…
Reviews:
Makanie: If men could simply refuse the vow after being sent there purposefully then the Night's Watch would have depleted hundreds of years earlier. Luke didn't offer the choice of death or the Wall. Jaime will go and he will serve, because more than anything else and although he pretends he isn't, when it comes to matters away from his sister he's pretty honourable.
SashaAlexi: My pet hates when it comes to fics about Jaime are the stupid reasons for him to leave the Kingsguard to marry, and him serving on the Kingsguard after Cersei has gone. No the scene I had trouble with was cut! It was originally a feast scene instead of in the baths, but I thought a bit of a one-on-one chat in such vulnerable conditions between Robb and Luke could clear the air a bit better.
DanielHimura: Shireen was 12 when she married and Luke thinks of House Baratheon as less than scum so he really doesn't care about her feelings. Jon has basically ignored her ever since and two years have passed since then.
Tony McNucklz: Please just stop reading if how I'm writing the Starks pisses you off, I really don't care. Robb doesn't know Luke and has been a King himself, so he's effectively learning to be a bannerman again after being the head of the food chain for a while.