Much like the first wedding, Edric's second marriage was celebrated by a tourney that lasted four days. Gwyneth Yronwood, Edric's new wife and the Realm's new Queen was a clever girl, with brown hair and dark eyes that set her apart from the rest of her blonde hair and blue-eyed family. She was quick with her words and quick with her hands, something Edric learned firsthand on the night they consummated their marriage. He enjoyed her company and her presence on the council was considered a boon rather than the other members being respectfully silent about her presence since she was Queen. But the biggest relief for Edric was that Gwyneth and Joanna got along well. The princess was only two and the first time she had seen met her stepmother, she had been shy and stuck to her father. But the Queen embraced the role of mother readily and slowly worked on her relationship with the Princess. In a few weeks, the Princess had warmed up to the woman. A year after their union, Queen Gwyneth announced that she was pregnant. Sadly the time for celebration was not on them just yet.
But that had not been the only good news to reach the King's ears. From across the narrow seas came another one. Daenerys Targaryen, mother of slaves, Queen of the former Slave Cities, and Mother of Dragons had received a devastating blow. Her three dragons had contracted a sort of sickness and one after the other they had died. It was not just some sickness though. Almost three years ago Edric had tasked Qyburn with writing to the Citadel about ways to deal with Dragons. The Citadel had sent Archmaester Perestan, the historian of the Citadel. And with the Archmaester came a very valuable secret. Perestan was installed as the Grandmaester and immediately was tasked with preparing this 'weapon' to deal with Daenerys' Children. Qyburn was tasked with assisting the man, having experience with substances already. The new Grandmaester did not take to Qyburn well, but with assurances from the King worked with the man.
This 'weapon' was a concoction of the strongest poisons known to the Citadel, brewed at precise temperatures and with precise stirs and precise amounts added. The Dance of The Dragons had killed out major dragons, but those that survived were killed with this concoction. But those dragons were considerably smaller than Daenerys' ones to the dosage needed to be higher, and the concoction needed to be prepared in bulk. They called it Dragonsbane, a pretentious name in Edric's opinion. Once the poison was made it was shipped away to Meereen. Months it had taken until a report was received. The poison had been administered. And then a few months later words came that the dragons had perished.
The death of the dragons had a domino effect on Daenerys. First, the Sons of Harpy, a resistance group of Ghiscari noblemen from Meereen had opened rebellion against the woman, their numbers bolstered when the hired sellsword companies added to them. The Masters had won, killed all the men loyal to Daenerys and then enslaved the Queen for themselves. Last Edric heard she was a whore for the masters, who had re-established the slavery system in the Slave Cities.
Edric felt bad for the woman. In an ideal world, he would have welcomed her back if she had bent the knee, given her Dragonstone since it was her ancestral land and let her live out the remainder of her life in peace here. But she was not someone that would bend the knee to him and peacefully return to Westeros, and her Dragons were a threat. He had to take them all out and he did, for his Kingdom and for his family.
But when good news was abundant, there was always bad news to follow. A dark cloud on an otherwise clear sky. It came in the form of a Northern entourage and a former brother of the Night's Watch.
The King awaited the entry of Lord Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. The man had sent him a raven in advance, informing him of their arrival. He also mentioned something that Edric did not believe in the slightest, but they claimed they had proof. So Now the King waited.
The doors to the Throne Room opened and in walked Lord Stark first, followed by men that Edric did not see before. They were all Lords of the North, that much he was certain of. The last to enter was another familiar face.
"Your grace" Lord Stark knelt, and so did the rest following his example. Edric bid them to stand.
"You said you had some proof of what you wrote about," Lord Tywin said, eyes narrowed and untrusting. The Lord of Casterly Rock was not a man known for believing in such things. He was a little ticked off even that the King even entertained such a notion, to begin with.
"I do," Lord Stark said icily, the familiar dislike for the House of Lions plain for all to see. He motioned to Jon Snow and the man walked out, coming back with a few other men of the Night's Watch and a basket.
"We have lost a lot of good men trying to get this proof, your Grace" Jon said, "good men on both sides."
On both sides, Edric knew he meant the Wildlings. Word had come to him that the Lord Commander was allowing Wildlings to pass through the gates of the Wall. Edric had delegated the responsibility of dealing with this to Lord Stark, his Northern Warden. This was a result of that from the looks of it.
One of the Night's Watch brothers kicked the basket over and its lid flung open when it fell to its side. For a moment nothing happened, Edric leaning forward to see what was inside. Then he heard it, the sound of clicking. A blur burst from the basket and charged the king, stopping barely away from the steps of the Throne. A chain around its neck was the only thing that stopped it from mounting the steps and attacking the King.
"Seven Hells" Edric heard his grandfather whisper, the emotion in his voice foreign to him. Edric himself felt an emotion he hadn't felt in a while. Fear, it was fear.
"These are the things that have been lurking beyond the walls, killing the Freefolk. These things are why the freefolk have been adamant about journeying over to our side" Jon spoke. "They are controlled by a force far more dangerous than them. They can't be killed by normal weapons" he took the sword of one of the Black Brothers and swung it at the groaning skeleton. The thing was cut in half, but to all their horror both halves of it were moving.
"Do you know what can kill it?" Edric questioned.
"Fire, Dragonglass and Valyrian Steel" Jon answered.
A Dragon would have come in real handy, Edric thought wistfully. "Very well. Kill it now" Edric sat straighter. "After, I want you, men, to rest. The journey could not have been easy for any of you, especially with a creature like that so close. Drink, eat and rest while the Council decides on how best to approach this war."
The Northern men all left once the dead had been killed and burned. Edric left the Throne Room, followed by his Council. The Queen would not be joining them this time. She was close to giving birth and by the orders of the Maester was told to be in bed and rest.
"There's no use delaying this" Edric muttered before taking his seat at the head. "How would you advice me to deal with this issue?"
"The issue is beyond the wall. If we can deal with them there, we have a good chance of not incurring any property losses" Stannis suggested. "Send men to join with the Northern host and deal a mortal blow against them. We know how to kill them, we can deal with them."
"The Wall is up in the North" Tyrion commented, "why not let the Northerners deal with it? We can conserve our numbers and if they do break through, we can deal with them then. For now, they are the headache of the North."
"I'm inclined to agree with Lord Tyrion" Lord Paxter commented. "Let the Northerners deal the first blow and then we can deal our own if they manage to cross the Riverlands."
"So abandon a section of our loyal men, is that it? Abandon the men that bent the knee to me, swore their loyalties to me, and let them all die out? Is that is?" Edric's words seemed to make the two Lords uncomfortable. "Lord Hand, what do you suggest?"
"I'm inclined to agree with Lord Stannis on this one" Lord Tywin muttered. He had been shaken to his core, his very belief system seemed to have been attacked by the revelation that The White Walkers were a reality.
"The White Walkers are said to be able to bring back the dead and make them fight on their side" Grandmaester Perestan the Historian said. "So any death on the North's side is more men to them. It is best we deal with them beyond the Wall, your Grace."
"Then that's what we do" Edric leaned back into his chair, "Lord Hand you will inform Lord Stark that he will have the Crown's backing in this war. Lord Stannis, send a raven and call the banners to move for the Wall. Qyburn, get into talks with the Pyromancer Guild. Flames can kill these things, we'll make use of wildfire. Lord Paxter ready the royal fleet to carry men up North. Lord Tyrion, move to Dragonstone and begin the task of mining the Dragonglass and shipping them up North."
The King stood and his council followed his example. "Dismissed, get to your duties" the men all nodded and one after the other left the room. Edric was the last to leave. He went to his chambers, where his wife Gwyneth was in bed. Princess Joanna was curled up into her stepmother's side, gently snoring.
"She wanted to listen to the baby. Fell asleep trying" the woman informed her husband with a smile and laugh. Edric smiled, walking over to his family. He sat on the bed and ruffled his daughter's hair. "You seem worried, your Grace. Is everything alright? Did the Northern host bring bad news?"
"Very bad news" Edric's confession made the woman furrow her brows. "There's a war coming, Gwyneth. One I'm not sure whether I come back from or not."
"Of course, you'll make it back" the Queen half snapped, pinning a glare on her husband. "You smashed the Ironborn and wiped them from the map of Westeros. You took down the Martells and its allies and brought down the Blackfyre claimant before he could do something on this side of the world. You'll survive this, and you'll come back to me, to your daughter and your son."
"A son?" the King questioned.
"I'm having a boy," the woman said proudly, puffing her chest out. "A little princeling."
"And heir to the Throne" Edric mused.
"Joanna could sit on the Throne as well" Gwyneth frowned. "I never understood the need for a male monarch by all of you. A woman can do the duties just as well as a man can."
"I have no doubt Joanna would make a fine Queen" Edric smiled. "But it has been pointed out to me that not everyone agrees with me, with us. So if you do have a son, he will be my heir. And it's not like I'm leaving my daughter out to dry. She's the heir to the Arbor! She'll be a Princess who sports the largest naval army. Weak by no means."
"Like Nimeria" Gwyneth smiled, playing with her daughter's hair. She had always called her daughter and treated her as if she had been the one to birth her. Something Edric adored her for. "When do you leave?"
"As earliest as possible. The Northern host will return first and prepare the men. Then I will follow suit with the Crownlands army and the royal fleet. The rest will join us, led by their liege Lords."
"Be careful my love" Gwyneth took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
"My love, huh? Already falling for me?" the King teased. The first time they had met, Gwyneth had told him blankly that their marriage would be one for duty, for the betterment of her family. She was in love with another, a soon-to-be-dead man who never really left her heart.
"I suppose you did pry your way into my heart eventually," Gwyneth said sheepishly, a merry blush on her face. The couple shared a kiss before Edric rose to his feet. "Rest, I must go now and see to the Northern men."
It had been a month since the Northern host had left the capital, in which time the banners for the Crownlands had been called. A large shipment of wildfire had been sent North, most coming from the ones that the Mad King had placed everywhere under the capital. Qyburn had been successful in finding them all and helped the guild retrieve them.
"The Riverlands move into the North as we speak, led by Ser Edmure Tully. The Westerlands move by the sea at the command of Ser Kevan. The Reach moves by sea as well, led by Ser Baelor Hightower, the eldest son of Lord Leyton Hightower. The Dornish will march on the Kingsroad, led by Lord Anders Yronwood" Lord Tywin reported, sporting his battle armour.
"And how is the moral amongst the men, Qyburn?" Edric questioned while Mycah helped him into his armour."
"confused afraid and still disbelieving" Qyburn reported. "Those that believe are prepared to not return, while those that don't believe are finding this gathering a waste of manpower. None of them holds you in ill faith, your Grace."
"That's good" Edric muttered, flexing his fingers once his gauntlet was on.
"Your Grace" Grandmaester Perestan spoke, "you should remain here and let the men fight for you. It won't do if the King dies in battle and leave a vacuum in power."
"What kind of a leader would I be if I hide behind my men" Edric smiled. "And there isn't a power vacuum. My son was just born yesterday, and Jon Baratheon will sit on the throne when he is of age. Until then Gwyneth, you, Qyburn and any of the Council Members that return will rule. There are capable men on my council, Grandmaester. Trust in them all."
"I do your Grace, but an old man like me worries" the Grandmaester bowed his head and stepped back.
Edric mounted the ship that would take them to Eastwatch by the Sea, from where they would leave a number of their men to fortify the place while the rest move for Castle Black. As the ship left the harbour, all Edric could think about was what he would face out there, the dangers of the dead. He prayed that he returned home to his family. And if not, at least be reunited with the family that awaits him on the other side.
Okay so! News update! I'm leaving this story here. I have found myself at a block with how to write about the White Walker. I refuse to follow the show's canon for them because they made the threat look like a bad day and nothing more. The Great Other is the main enemy and I'll be damned if I do a bad job at writing it. So I leave it to anyone else to pick up the final arc of my story if you want to. Carry on from where the writer has left it.
I'd like to thank each and every last one of you for the support you've shown me, my story and my ideas. This won't be the last story I write. I'm going to work on another one soon. Till then, bye-bye!