All trademarked items in this fanfiction is owned by their respective copyright holders (A Song of Ice and Fire by George R.R. Martin, Aoki Hagane no Arpeggio by Ark Performance, etc). The ones owned by me are past and future OCs, plot, and author's thoughts. This fanfiction is made solely for entertainment purposes and not intended for any material gain.
A March of The Meek and Landless
Act 1: A Place to Belong
Chapter 5
"Ser Clegane," Jon said as he entered the tent where Sandor is recuperating. "I have your food."
"Snow," Sandor grumbled, sitting up from his cot. His arm is in a brace. "That better not be porridge."
"No Ser," Jon replied. "Thick beef stew with carrots, cabbage, cauliflower, with a side of steamed imo ."
"Fuck yeah, taste of home," Sandor said, grinning. "You brought your own?"
"No, I… I ate at the galley tent," Jon answered the question. Sandor raised his brow on the noticeable pause, before he decided to drop his line of questioning.
There was a quiet few minutes as Sandor ate his food with the typical difficulties of a man recovering from a broken arm bone. Jon stood beside the tent entrance, ready to assist.
"Didja kill someone in the storming, Snow?" Sandor asked after he swallowed a mouthful of stew.
"A couple, Ser," Jon answered, his tone a little non-committal.
"But it bugged you," Sandor said before shoving a spoonful of steamed tuber into his mouth.
"I… no, not really," Jon replied as he poured a mug of lemon water for his knight. His hand rubbed a section of his doublet near his left side, his mind absent from the innocuous action.
"Lies. You've been my squire for… how long was it, three years now?" Sandor threw a question, his tone sharp. "I know your tells, Snow."
"I… well…" Jon sighed. "Aight, it bothered me."
"Good, then you're still sane," Sandor said after washing down food with a gulp of lemon water. "My brother wouldn't have thought twice about anybody he killed. Maddest man I've known. Now tell me, who did you kill."
"A… a woman," Jon reluctantly uttered after a long, heavy sigh.
"Didja rape her?" Sandor said, leaning back.
"No! Of course not!" Jon bursted out hotly. "The Lady Kirino told us not to pillage…"
"Good. Because if you did I'd geld you myself," Sandor interrupted Jon's indignant rant. "Why did you kill her?"
"She… she was crazed," Jon said in a quiet tone. "My squad was bringing up the rear in an alleyway. She was wailing over a dead young man… I saw the glint of her long dagger too late. Sliced Jaremy on the neck, nicked my side, then rushed Morgon down. I… acted before she could do any more harm."
"Did Jaremy survive?" Sandor said, his eyes grim.
"No. we tried bringing him to the nearest medic but it was useless," Jon answered the question, his eyes dark with sorrow.
"Then you had acted to prevent the loss of more lives," Sandor said after a heavy sigh. "The conduct of war is heavy in times like those. Sometimes you ditch one to do the other, it happened. Have you talked about this to another?"
"Only to Ser Gerion," Jon replied. "Morgon pestered me and we met him in the galley tent. I reported Jaremy's death."
"What did he say?" Sandor asked.
"To go report to the clerks, then grab a drink or two and fuck a whore," Jon answered, distaste in his words.
"I'd say his suggestion is fair, though I know you are not that sort of man," Sandor replied after a sigh. "So I'd say you should train. Swing a sword three hundred times while keeping the form, then do twice the laps you usually do. If you still think about the crazed woman, do all that again. If you feel too tired to go on, drink some ale then sleep."
"Will… that do me any good?" Jon said, a glimmer of hope in his words.
"It will keep you from thinking overmuch, at least," Sandor replied.
…
"Lord Baratheon," Yamato said as Stannis entered the room. Robert laid beyond a glass barrier, laying supine on a bed and breathing softly despite various tubes sticking out from his body. "I know what you are thinking, but please bear with Hyuuga's… unorthodox measures. The condition was dire and I authorized dire measures."
"No matter. How is he?" Stannis asked in a gruff tone.
"About as well as we can bring him to be. His injuries are treated and his condition stabilized, but his consciousness has not returned even after Hyuuga stopped the sedatives," Yamato replied, "She suspected poison or head trauma of some sort."
"How about the assassins who did this?" Stannis continued to question.
"Robert mentioned a… goldenheart? A bow of some sort certainly, as he pushed me down," Yamato said, rubbing her chin.
"A goldenheart bow… masterwork weaponry from the Summer Isles equal to the much rarer dragonbone bow. Reputed to be the finest kind of bow there is," Stannis replied. "They are also quite rare. They say an arrow loosed from such a bow can penetrate plate armor outright from under a hundred paces."
"That narrows it down a lot," Yamato said, with conviction in her voice. "I'll have Shioni search for owners of such bows in the city. I'm sure the liberated citizenry would be eager to help her."
A silence settled between them for a minute.
"Lady Kirino, what do you think about His Grace's heirs?" Stannis asked, his tone quiet and deliberate.
"Takes after their mother a lot," Yamato replied, "A whole lot, in fact. Almost like a lion's share of traits, if you can forgive my pun."
"Exactly," Stannis said, his tone not breaking despite the jape. "I have been investigating them, alongside other… concerned parties."
"Lord Arryn, I presume," Yamato replied as she casted a sidelong glance to Robert. "Because he was the one who gave Shioni two names."
"Gowen and Tessa Baratheon," Stannis answered the implied question. "Davos had conveyed what the maester of Storm's End found."
"I think I can guess what his findings are," Yamato threw a question back to Stannis. "Black of hair, blue of eyes?"
"Black of hair, blue of eyes," Stannis confirmed the answer. "How did you get to that conclusion?"
"You, our king, and Lord Renly are almost like three peas from a pod. It would be most queer if not a single one of our king's children looks at least partially like him," Yamato started an explanation. "Look at me and Amaha, twins who are simultaneously similar and different from each other. I inherited the deep black hair of my father where my twin sister got her earthy brown from my mother, but you can see similarities between us in our eyes and height."
"I see. Your wisdom does you credit my lady," Stannis said.
"What do you intend to do with this information, Lord Baratheon?" Yamato asked. "This can make or break an empire."
"I… am unsure," Stannis confided. "Of course the Lannisters must pay for this treachery, but after that…"
"You wish to be a king yourself?" Yamato replied. The air around the two thickened.
"It is my duty as Robert's heir, after the invalidation of his current brood," Stannis answered the question, his tone low.
"Our king draws his breath still," Yamato replied.
"And you are allied to the Lannisters, through your sister's marriage to Tyrion," Stannis countered.
"True enough," Yamato conceded, "Yet consider this. Tywin Lannister is a man concerned about legacy, first and foremost. Between the stain of impure and inadequate royal heirs of his blood, and his own noble and trueborn heirs from the so-called imperfect branch, who will he choose?"
"He could push for both," Stannis replied. "A throne is powerful enough to erase such stains."
"Ah, but will he suffer another insane monarch? One who would heap indignities upon his person all over again?" Yamato posited a question, a tiny uptick on the tips of her lips. "Surely you have heard of… gruesome whispers in the Red Keep."
"What do you mean?" Stannis countered with his own question, his tone curious.
"Prince Joffrey had been utterly fascinated by the… inner workings of cats," Yamato said in a low and quiet tone, almost a whisper. "So much so that he does not wait for an autopsy."
"By the Seven," Stannis cursed. "And what did the queen do to address this… worrying behavior?"
"Too little," Yamato said. "If anything, she sheltered him by way of inaction... or worse, tacit acknowledgement."
"I… I am speechless with indignation, Lady Kirino," Stannis groused. "I know that Robert is an absent father, but for Cersei to fan the flames instead of extinguishing them… this could lead into a disastrous reign."
"I agree," Yamato said, nodding gravely. "Shall we do something about it, then?"
…
When Samwell first heard of his impending assignment to the Royal Expeditionary Forces, he trembled in fear. That would be the frontlines of the fight, against criminals, pirates, and whatever else lurking around in The Stepstones. A small chance of success amidst a million and one ways to failure and death.
Never had he thought that it would use a surprising amount of thought and calculation abilities.
"Do you have today's report, Squire Tarly?" Amaha Kirino asked as her finger danced across the glowing glass panel she used to record information.
"Yes my lady," Samwell said as she handed a slate inscribed with his gentle, small handwriting. "The… consumption rate is within acceptable boundaries you have told me."
"Good, good…" Amaha hummed as she scanned the day's records. "I trust the men have been allotted today's daily rations?"
"Procurers from all divisions have come and been given their daily allotment of staples, and the amounts have been logged," Samwell replied. "Not many divisions had requested… luxuries, as the troops on the ground had been prepared for a siege."
"Lord Baratheon is probably tightening up our collective belts anticipating a considerable length of siege. It's a Black-walled fortress after all," Amaha ventured a guess. "I suppose that's what an experienced siege commander would do in this situation."
"Would you… not have an alternative solution, my lady?" Samwell asked in a timid tone. "Seeing that House Kirino has… magic…"
"Magic is useful, Squire Tarly, make no mistake," Amaha said after a chuckle. "But a scalpel in one occasion might be a hammer in another. There are occasions where the destructive force of our magic would be a hindrance rather than a boon, and this is one of them. The blackstone compound of Tyrosh, while rather small compared to ones in the Greater Volantis area, is still a strategic position better captured intact than destroyed. In this matter, it is better to follow Lord Baratheon's judgment."
"I see…" Samwell said, rubbing his sparsely bearded chin. "May I ask something, Lady Kirino?"
"As long as it is not the secrets of magic, ask away," Amaha replied before sipping a glass of tea.
"If your house insists upon capturing Tyrosh intact, then is there any designs for it?" Samwell said his question.
"We have. With its size and defensible position, Tyrosh will be very useful to keep Myr in check," Amaha replied to Sam's question. "And if Braavos agrees, that city will be another rich prize."
"It will be… hard for a young noble house such as yours to administer such vast territory, my lady," Samwell opined.
"We don't even have to," Amaha responded to the implied question. "Braavos would definitely like to project their strength and anti-slavery stances to Southwestern Essos, and Myr would be the perfect beacon for that. Surely a city the size of Braavos could outfit a cadre of administrators for their own outpost."
"I… see, my lady," Samwell said, his tone a touch unsure.
"A greater mind could intimidate a lesser one, Squire Tarly. Are you?" Amaha asked as she leaned forward towards the table.
"I cannot profess to know, my lady," Samwell conceded. "But the maesters do say the first knowledge is the knowledge of one's ignorance."
"A good tenet to have. Well, would your father do the same in our position, hypothetically speaking?" Amaha asked as she stretched her arms.
"I… think he would take a more direct approach," Samwell replied to the question. "My father is… a war commander first before a lord. If King Robert bade him to take Tyrosh, he will take it or die trying. He will not try subterfuge… or at least his subterfuge would not extend as far and deep as Lady Yamato's."
"That's my sister for you, Samwell," Amaha replied as she leaned back into her chair's back. "Even I, who shared our mother's womb and breast with her, did not have the ambition she has. Hers is our house's tenka fubu , where mine is the fukoku kyouhei ."
…
Robert stirred awake, his vision was met with a queer sight. Apparently he had awoken on a seashore, where the blue-green ocean met the black sands of the shore. The sky was locked in a perpetual twilight, red gold and purple a riot upon the horizon.
"Ah, you are awake, blood of my blood," a man greeted him. Robert turned to find a white-haired, purple-eyed man walking towards him from behind.
"Am… am I dead yet?" Robert asked in confusion. "And why is a filthy Targ accepting me to the afterlife…"
"Oh Robert, so easily you cast aside the fourth of your inheritance?" the Targaryen-looking man countered, a wan smile on his lips.
"Bugger that! Rhaegar Targaryen shat on any goodwill I have remaining for any Targaryen left in this world!" Robert replied, his tone angered and harsh. "So just tell me to go to hell already! I'll even walk over there myself if I have to…"
"Well too bad, you are alive still," the man said, his hands making a non-threatening gesture. "I must say I am very impressed indeed! You did get shot in the neck after all… not many physicians can keep a man alive through that kind of grave injury, even in the glory days of Valyria."
"Heh, I'm there," Robert grumbled as he sat down on a large dark-colored rock. "I'm damn sure the arrows tore through my neck like a knife through damn paper… wait, did you just say Valyria?"
"Aye, I did," the Valyrian replied, a mischievous smile on his face. "Would you like to know more?"
"Is this... the part where you urge me to worship the One True God of all Valyrians or something?" Robert groaned. "Thoros did that to me many times, you know."
"No, not really," the Valyrian answered. "Balerion thinks that he won't be investing for a mortal acolyte for some time. His last investment was a total loss after all."
"Rhaegar?" Robert made a guess.
"No, Aerys," the Valyrian replied, sighing. "Balerion was ready to pull out when Aerys went insane, but Vhagar and Meraxes convinced him to double down. You know how that one ended."
"Aye…" Robert grunted his assent. "So, how do this all tie to me then? I don't want to go nutter like that damned wretch…"
"Oh don't worry Robert, you'd probably forget a huge majority of what we talked about here when you awake. You didn't have much innate power to begin with, and furthermore you are untrained in the ways of a seer," the Valyrian explained. "Aerys did try to train himself, but barely trained is often worse than untrained."
"And Rhaegar? What happened to him?" Robert threw another question in the air.
"Trying to emulate his father to get a few steps further," the Valyrian replied after a sigh. "Not that it helped him much, but at least the fog cleared up for his mind in the end."
"Bet it cleared when I smashed his chest in," Robert sneered.
"Indeed," the Valyrian replied airily. "At that second, he connected to the realm of the gods."
"Like I just did…?" Robert said in an unsure tone.
"Pretty much," the Valyrian answered the question, his tone having a songlike quality to it.
"Then… did you meet him like this too?" Robert continued his line of questioning.
"I did," the Valyrian replied. "I believe he even puzzled out my identity before he died. No mean feat, he had like a couple of minutes at most."
"Then… maybe I can too…" Robert said, rubbing his chin.
"Perhaps," the Valyrian responded. "Do you perhaps prefer a hint?"
"I'll take it," Robert grumbled. "Never was good with riddles, but it'll pass the time."
"That's the spirit. Then here's your hint," the Valyrian said, his tone amused. "You and I are the same, but you are not I and I am not you."
…
Daenerys Targaryen liked to consider herself a brave woman. She had survived the alleyways of many Free Cities, surviving sometimes on empty stomach and half a prayer. Her brother has gone before her, killed for breaking the taboo of Vaes Dothrak in front of her unflinching eyes. From his pyre rose three dragons, a portent greater than ever.
That was a few moonturns ago.
The gorge Daenerys was now in had somehow unnerved her. Perhaps it's the remote location, known only to Drogo and his father Bharbo before him. Perhaps it's the rather unsure footing, a problem she had fought since entering this remote place. Perhaps it's the thick fog. Perhaps it was the fact that none of her husband's kos and khas dared to accompany them here. Not even the dragons had dared to venture with her, choosing to turn back not half a mile into the fog.
"Is it far yet?" she asked.
"We get there when we arrive, my Moon-and-Stars," Drogo replied, uncharacteristically solemn. "Sometimes we find her, and sometimes she finds us."
"The Witch-in-Mist?" Daenerys asked.
"Aye," Drogo answered. "Many chieftains sought her favor, asked for visions the dosh khaleen would not provide… but as many of them incurred her terrible wrath. Warriors innumerable had assaulted this valley, and none returned. Many khalasar entered, yet my father is the only khal who left with his life."
They rode in relative silence, until a black structure finally came to view in the featureless mist.
"The Hill Unbowed," Daenerys said in awe.
"Aye. Oltaki Lei, the domain of the Black Witch," Drogo said as they approached the hill.
The final stretch of the journey was perhaps as trying as the beginning, despite the more level terrain. The structure in the middle of the bowl-shaped gorge is so alien, that Daenerys wondered if anything would ever unnerve her like the smoothly-lined steely-gray structure.
"Hark, Witch-in-Mist! It is I, Drogo son of Bharbo, who stands before you! I invoke the covenant of my father for a favor!" Drogo shouted.
There was a short stillness in the air as Daenerys held her breath. From a ledge on the black structure, a form stirred. Daenerys could have sworn that the ledge contained nothing, just a few heartbeats ago. Now, a blond woman in a vaguely Westerosi black dress sat there.
"Speak," the witch replied.
"We wish to cross the sea-" Daenerys managed to blurt out before a flash of red darted from the witch and sliced the ear of her mare off. The mare spooked and was ready to buck, but Daenerys managed to calm the frightened animal before it threw her off its back.
"Only they of the pact may speak," the witch said. Daenerys thought she saw the tip of her finger smoking. "Not you."
"I wish to cross the Great Salt Water," Drogo said, his horse a step forward. "To the home of my Sun-and-Stars. To claim her birthright with the might of forty thousand Dothraki and three dragons."
"Intriguing," The Witch said, stirring to a stand before walking. "What shall you offer to me, Drogo son of Bharbo?"
"My Sun-and-Moon shall honor you with a place in her council," Drogo said, his tone elated. "And one in a hundred part of the riches of Westeros shall be yours."
"A tall prize for a tall order, but none worthier," The Witch said as she stepped upon thin air as if there was a staircase. "We shall depart for Astapor, so we might peruse the service of an ally of mine."
…
By his reckoning, the Hour of Wolf has come and gone. Pycelle sighed as he threw another gaze to the supine form of Jon Arryn. The Lord Hand has been incapacitated by an illness, sudden stroke just as he sat to partake in dinner according to the household staff and Lady Arryn. Pycelle had his own opinions, but did not deign to inform others of it.
"The seed…" Jon muttered, his voice loud enough to turn the heads in the room to him.
"My Lord Hand, I implore you to rest," Pycelle said in a gentle tone as he approached the bed. "Your condition is improving, but…"
"The seed… is strong…" Jon cut Pycelle's words with a louder utterance. With such ominous tone to his words, Jon of the House Arryn breathed his last and passed from this world into the next.
In the resulting flurry of activity, nobody noticed a small gray lump of what seemed to be mortar in the corner of the room.
A/N: There are two Japanese expressions here that readers might not be familiar with and thus will be explained here.
Fukoku Kyouhei (富国強兵) means 'a rich nation has a strong army'. It is a Chinese concept of pursuing strength of arms through national prosperity, later adopted by the Meiji Restoration as one of their principles. The Reach is the ASoIaF faction most closely associated to this principle.
Tenka Fubu (天下布武) means 'all under heaven by force of arms'. This is a militaristic principal most famously adhered by Nobunaga Oda. Basically, crush anything that stands in your way until all is united under your banner.
Some dialogue still felt a bit disjointed, but I hope not too distracting. Enjoy!