Chapter 12
Wind and rain whipped against Link's face like shards of myrish glass as he fell, screaming from the heavens.
"Fly or die Time Walker! Fly or die!" The three eyed crow croaked as it followed him through dark jagged clouds and bright flashes of lightning. Link continued plummeting to the ground despite whatever nonsense the crow was saying. Even in his past life he was never adept enough with magic to fly, the only person he had known to be capable of that was Ganondorf. "Believe! Believe, boy and you will fly." The crow cawed as the ground came closer and closer. Link shut his eyes and prayed to Farore for courage. Believe, Believe, believe, Link repeated to himself, like a mantra until, suddenly the wind and rain stopped lashing against his face.
He opened his eyes and found himself no longer in the air but standing in a ruined city with tall towers that reminded Link of fingers reaching up to touch the sky and crumbling roads made from fused black stone. Rivers of liquid fire flowed through the abandoned city, not unlike the pools once found in Death Mountain in his previous life. Above all loomed fourteen mountains with great plummets of ash and fire coming from their peaks, each as tall as the Rock. The fourteen flames! I'm in Valyria.
A foul smog hung in the air, dark like ash and foul to breathe, making him sputter and cough. Hanging on the crumbling towers and littering the ground were the skeletal remains of great creatures, with bones as black as pitch. Dragons. Each dragon was as big if not bigger than the remains of Balerion in the Red Keep, their dark empty eye sockets seemed to follow him as he walked along the graveyard of the Dragonlords. Gerion is here, somewhere. Link steeled his nerves and delved deeper into the dead citadel, hoping to find any sign of life, any sign of his uncle.
In the centre of the once magnificent place was a great big domed structure, reminiscent of the ruined dragon pit in King's Landing, though much bigger. Doors, thrice the size of the entrance to the Great Hall in the Red Keep stood before him. Made of oak that should have long since rotted and banded with a smoky rippled metal inscribed with runes. Valyrian steel. Link approached the door and summoned all of his strength to push the door open.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Link. It is not wise to disturb the dead." An old and wizened voice spoke. Link whipped around to face the threat to see nothing but the desolate street behind him. Strange, my mind must be playing tricks on me. Valyria has been said to drive men mad long before they reach it. Like the rustle of the dead weirwood in Casterly Rock on a windy day the voice whispered in his ear once more. "I assure you, Hero of Time, I am not merely a figment of your imagination. I advise you not to dwell here, it is a cursed foul place able to corrupt even the greatest of men." Link ignored the voice and pushed the doors open as if they weighed no more than a feather. It seemed that some magic still remained in Valyria. As Link stepped over the threshold of the once majestic structure his vision closed into an inky darkness, like a veil of night being placed over his eyes. I probably should have listened to the voice.
A jolly lion appeared before Link, young and proud, treading through shallow water. A huge slimy tentacle shot out of the water with a loud splash, covered in slime and dark suckers. Before the jolly lion could even react, the huge tentacle wrapped around the lion and squeezed, causing the creature's bones to break with a loud crack. The lion screamed in pain as the tentacle pulled the gravely injured lion beneath the inky depths.
The image changed to a lion, dire wolf, crowned stag and a pale, young stag with a lion's mane brawling with each other. The stag was wrapped up in vines that shot out of the ground as the young foal bites into its flesh. The young wolf battles the old grizzly lion, swiping its claws at the lion, injuring it before being stabbed in the throat by the young stag's antlers.
Before Link could even blink his vision swam and he found himself no longer in the dead city of the freehold but a place bustling with life. As fresh, clean air filled his lungs and he looked around at the cobbled streets and rows of houses, Link thought himself in King's Landing, but the putrid combination of shit and fish did not assault his nose. Link looked around him once more, hoping for a sign to see where he was. A chill hung in the air and the people who passed him wore heavy fur cloaks with panic and worry writ all over their faces. I must be in White Harbour, but why would the people be so worried?
Link looked up to see snow falling from the sky and out of the corner of his eye a colossal structure rested. It must have been the tallest man made structure he had ever seen, not as tall as the Rock but still impressive nevertheless. The tower was huge, likely on par with the Wall in terms of height with a huge flame burning at its peak. That's the Hightower. I'm in Oldtown. That's impossible, winter seems to be nearly upon this place. The only way for snow to be falling would be if he was in the past. A thought pierced his brain like a needle, if he were in the past why would the people be so worried?
No war had threatened the people of Oldtown directly in recent memory, the last being the Dance of the Dragons and he saw no golden dragon banners, or any Targaryen banners at all. He must be in the future. Link blinked again and his vision swam once more as a great bell tolled. He found himself watching over Oldtown from the top of the Hightower itself. In an instant the world went dark as the sun plunged down below the waters of the Sunset Sea, like a candle being snuffed out. A fleet of ships were out on the water, all of them having the Hightower sigil on their sails. The city was silent, as if it were holding its breath waiting for something. A man's laughter ruptured the silence like the shattering of glass. It was a high, inhuman laugh that made cold sweat run down his back and goosebumps prickle over his skin. Oldtown was plunged into an unnatural silence once more as the man finished laughing. A horn blew a long and terrible sound, it chilled his heart and made his hand burn. He looked to see the Triforce burning on his right hand once more. Impossible, how is this happening?
The Hightower shook with the blowing of the horn and Link clutched his head in his hands and fell to his knees in the cold snow as a bright light assaulted his eyes. Wait, snow? He thought as he clutched the ground and found to his bewilderment icy wet snow in his hand.
Link opened his eyes and found himself peering into two blue stars. Not stars, eyes. He realised as he scrambled back in the snow, face to face with an army of monsters. Pale unearthly beings with blades of pure ice rode giant ice spiders, the size of hounds. He saw thousands of corpses, all of them with bright blue stars for eyes, all of them staring at him. They were led by, to his surprise, an ordinary looking man, if handsome. He was tall and slender, with dark hair, a long face and blue stars for eyes, wearing a bronze crown of swords and a long black cloak hung around his shoulders like a cloak of night. The man was the leader of this army of death, a king of all the dark, the Night's King.
The Night's King spoke in a language that Link did not know; his voice was like the cracking of ice on Lake Hylia and his words were brimming with anger and a righteous fury. They spoke a promise of vengeance and a warning of what's to come.
"Winter is coming, Link Lannister." The Night's King spoke, "and you can not stop us. I am the hammer that shatters the shield of men, the darkness that snuffs out the dawn and all shall be under my sway, from this day till the end of days!" The Night's King, quicker than Link though possible, grabbed Link and wrapped his pale hands around Link's throat and squeezed. Link felt his blood freeze in his veins and the breath in his lungs be replaced by the cold of winter. Link struggled against the man, if he could even be called a man, to no avail as his vision darkened. He screamed before all went dark.
Link gasped as he awoke, his sheets soaked in a cold sweat. He shivered, remembering the cold he had felt, like he would never be warm again.
Dawn was breaking over Blackwater Bay as he looked from his balcony, a warm breeze blowing over his face and warming his bones. That dream was different. There was only one dream he had that had felt as real as this dream. The nightmare he had before his quest in Hyrule, a prophetic dream that foretold what would happen if he followed Zelda and her plan. God's how naive I was back then. If only I could do it all again. He stared out over the bay, imagining a better Hyrule, where the people were safe and Ganondorf defeated. There's no use torturing myself over impossibilities, I have people to save here.
It had been almost 3 years since Gerion had left Lannisport on the Laughing Lion, and while everyone else had accepted that Gerion had died a watery death or worse in Old Valyria, Link refused to accept it. Tyrion may call him naive and his father could call him a weak willed fool, Link cared naught.
Link splashed some water over his face from the basin by the side of his bed and looked into his myrish looking glass. Now, at three and ten name days he had lost most of his baby fat but still looked more like a child than his mature adult body had in his past life. Nevertheless, his stomach was flat and hard as an oaken shield. His arms and legs were sculpted with muscle and he looked more and more the hero he had been in his past life. He could picture himself in his mind's eye, tall and strong with a cocky grin and the impression of being immortal. Even with the body of an adult, I was more a child then in my innocence than I am now.
In Hyrule, Link slew any beast that he came across, from the great dragon Volvagia, to the demon of Kakariko, Bongo Bongo, he had been unstoppable. Until Gannondorf. Link rubbed his eyes wearily and sat down at his desk, gathering his quill and parchment once he sat in his oak chair. It was a simple desk all things considered, carved from the oak trees found in the Kingswood. He dipped his gilded gold quill, a gift from Lord Crakehall for his three and tenth nameday, into the ink pot and began to write.
Some parts of the dream were easier to decipher than others. The lion, stag and dire wolf battling could mean a war between the great houses but then what would the stag with a lion's mane represent? Link did not know. Link only knew of one creature that would be strong enough to kill a lion as if it were nothing with long tentacles, a kraken. Creatures of the deep, many scoffed at the tales of the sailors who were said to have escaped them but Link was not so cynical. What house has a kraken for a sigil? The Greyjoys!
Link twirled the quill in his hands with worry. There would be a war between the great houses of Westeros. Stark, Lannister, Baratheon, Greyjoy and Tyrell. What of the Arryns and Martells? The Tully's would presumably side with House Stark and possibly so would the Vale. All three share blood alliances through the Tully sisters. The possible war became clearer in his head as he laid out the battle lines. Stark, Tully, Baratheon and Arryn against Lannister and Tyrell. But what of the others? The Martells would likely stay neutral due to the deaths of Princess Elia and her children but the Greyjoys, what would they do? The dream showed me a kraken killing a lion, the Greyjoys defeating my family maybe? Again he did not know.
Oldtown could be threatened. That meant that Dorne could play a part in the war if they invaded from the south, through the Red Mountains. But why? Link asked himself, a pain blooming behind his eyes as questions swam in his head. How could a war of this magnitude break out, the realm is at peace with a stable alliance in place. "There's too many bloody questions that I don't know the answer to!" Link shouted as he slammed the quill on the desk, causing it to creak slightly.
Link shivered as he thought of the King with the blue eyes that shone like stars. There was only one thing that the man could have been, an Other. Not just any White Walker, but the Night's King. Link remembered the story that his uncle Gerion had told him as a child, of the Lord Commander who had declared himself King of the Wall and took an Other as his bride. "Some say that the Lord Commander was a Stark." Gerion had whispered to him in a low mischievous voice, "that when Brandon the Breaker came to kill the Night's King he found his brother instead." Link shook his head, there was no time to be losing himself in the haze of memories.
"This is just brilliant, there could be a war in the future with everyone at their own throats for no apparent reason and on top of that the White Walkers could invade as well. Fantastic." Link said to himself sarcastically. We are doomed.
Link's dark musings were interrupted with a knock on his door. "My Lord, are you alright?" A maid, who was called Barbara if he could recall correctly, called out. Link shot out of his chair and registered that yes dawn had broken and that he needed to get ready to serve King Robert.
"I'm quite alright thank you Lady Barbara." Link said as he hurriedly threw on his clothes and only heard a faint giggle in response. It would be a long day.
Link sighed in relief as King Robert relieved him of his duties to practise in the training grounds. Robert had been in no mood to discuss the affairs of the realm with him or any other that day, his only concern being the whores and wine that he would drown his sorrows in. His discomfort must have been apparent on his face as he polished the King's warhammer, which he hadn't used in years, and served the King his wine. Robert had laughed and dismissed him to the yard to practice.
He walked through the Red Keep to the training grounds at a slow pace, with his Qohorik forged bastard sword at his hip and Lann his ever present red shadow. The other squires, like the new Master of Laws, Renly Baratheon's squire Lords Tyrell, tried to tease Link about having a sworn shield, calling him names like 'Link the craven' for having a guard but his skill at arms had quickly silenced them.
The training grounds were as crowded as ever, with knights and noble sons from all over the Seven Kingdoms training. In the centre of the grounds, a crowd had formed with many a noble Lady looking on with desire and longing. Link grabbed a practice sword from the rack before pushing through the bystanders to the front of the crowd as they passed bets and discussed gossip. In the centre of the ring of spectators, Loras Tyrell and Link's cousin, Tyrek sparred. Tyrek had arrived at King's Landing just after Link's second and tenth nameday where he too began squiring for the King. Tyrek and Link had fallen into a companionship of sorts in King's Landing, they were, dare he say it, friends. Tyrek was a kind and charming boy who was good with a sword in hand and better on horseback. Tyrek is skilled, but against Loras he will fail. Link thought with no little guilt and remorse.
He winced as the Tyrell squire feinted and disarmed his cousin before kicking him down and forcing him to yield. Loras was older than Tyrek and laughed at his cousin as he struggled to rise from the dirt. Link clenched his jaw and glared. Just a green boy hungry for glory who thinks himself untouchable. Just as I did. The rowdy group of squires fell into a sullen silence as he stepped forwards from the crowd. "Care for a bout Loras?" Link asked with a friendly grin. Loras faltered, unsure before puffing out his chest as a cocky certainty leaked into his golden brown eyes.
"Wishing to join your cousin in defeat, are you Lannister?" Loras asked him with a raised brow, his practice sword leaning against his shoulder. He is only a boy, but one one who is yet to learn humility. I will correct this. Link only smiled and readied himself into a defensive stance. "As you wish then, Link Lannister," the Tyrell boy said with a laugh as he launched himself at Link with a swing to his head. He blocked Loras' blade with his own, pushing the other boy backwards with a shove.
They circled each other once more and Link focused, he would not lose. The loud cheers and chatter of the crowd washed away like sandcastles on Blackwater Bay. All that mattered was Loras and him. Loras swung his blade at Link's side, but he was too slow. Every swing and slash that Loras tried, Link would bob and weave around them. At that point Loras was red in the face and gripping the pommel of his practice blade so tight that his knuckles whitened in frustration, he wanted to end the fight. Perfect.
Link lowered his blade and hastened his breathing, making it more laboured as if he had just run laps around the entire city rather than avoiding Loras Tyrell's blade. Loras grinned and ran forward and it was then that Link knew he had caught him, the trap had been sprung and Loras had run headlong into it. Loras feinted right and stabbed his blade towards Link's throat. Quick as a whip, Link snapped his blade up and slapped Loras' out of the way before kicking him in the chest, making Loras stumble to the floor with a startled cry. Link brought his practice blade to his fallen opponent's throat. "Yield." Link said, Loras glared at him but nodded in resignation all the same, accepting Link's hand up for help. "It was a good match, Loras, you show great skill with the blade. Just don't let your emotions cloud your judgement." Link said with a friendly smile. Loras nodded with a sigh.
"You sound like my brother Garlan, always chiding me after a mistake. It was a good match Lannister, but how about another? I know I'll get you this time!" Loras said with a good natured laugh, his brown curls bouncing around his shoulders as he did. Link only grinned as he readied himself into a fighting stance again. Ominous dreams of doom forgotten, even if only for a moment.
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