Fireside Talks

A Song of Ice and Fire, and all associated media, are the property of George R. R. Martin.

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"So, a talking crow?" Thoros tried to speak casually as he poked at the fire he made once the sun set. The first words any of them had said since Randy…started his healing process. "Is that a common thing here in Westeros?"

"I assure you, Thoros, is it not," Lyanna replied staring at the crow in question. Who in turn was glaring at Randy. She'd heard of skinchangers—or wargs—all her life. But all the tales told of them said they only controlled beasts. Nothing about speaking through them.

Of course, there were not tales about men like Randy either, so what did she know?

Bloodraven hummed. "She's right, Thoros of Myr. Wargs cannot speak through the animals they inhabit. It is considered impossible"

Thoros arched a brow and gestured to the bird. "And yet…?"

Bloodraven huffed. "Yes, well, this man here"—he gestured to Randy—"has done nothing but the impossible since I've become aware of his existence, so why not try the same?"

"That's it?" Thoros arched a brow. "It was that simple?"

The bird looked away—bashful, of all things. "…I'd always been told it was impossible to speak through an animal, so I'd never bothered to try after my initial, stubborn failures. Magic has as much to do with mentality as anything else."

"Randy is certainly mental," Lyanna said with a snort.

"Hijole," Randy said, voice a weak rasp. "I can only hear that so many times before my feelings get hurt."

Lyanna whipped around, and crawled over. "Randy? You're awake?" His body was still covered with burns, but his face had regained its lips and eyelids—but the latter were sunken in over his eyes.

"Just fading in-and-out of conciousness," he replied. "Same as the last few times I've 'woken up'."

Lyanna sniffed. "This is the first time you've spoken since."—she gestured to his melted arms and the pile of corpses beneath them—"all this."

"Really?" Randy's face pinched. "Man, I'm more out of it than I thought. Haven't been this delirious since I got my teeth pulled."

Lyanna leaned back in shock. "You had your teeth pulled out? Who did you piss off to warrant that?!"

"Wha—no, it was a medical procedure. In my previous life."

"Previous life?" Thoros and Bloodraven parroted.

"Long story short: I lived and died in another world, but in the process of reincarnating—or whatever the fuck was happening to my soul—I skipped a step and remembered not only my past life, by my time as a soul before being shoved into my current mother's womb." His face scrunched up in disgust. "And yes, I remember growing within her womb and being born—well, not actively, but that's another conversation."

Thoros made a disgusted noise, and Bloodraven shivered. "I viewed my own birth once out of curiosity," the latter said. Why one would be curious of such a thing, Lyanna could not hope to understand "A dreadful thing. Can't imagine what it must have been like from the inside."

"It was hell," Randy bluntly replied.

"And you're what?" Bloodraven hopped close to Randy, peering at him. "Twenty?"

"Nineteen—well, technically I'm older than that, but I do not want to get into that right now."

"Where were you born?"

"Is there a point to this?" Randy said with a yawn. "Because I'm still very, very tired."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Bloodraven fell into a bow—a weird thing to see in a bird. "I'm just trying to figure out when everything got fucked sideways. But by all means, please, rest."

"Oh, piss off, you pale bastard," Randy said with a huff. Bloodraven bristled at the term, Lyanna noticed. "You won't be able manipulate the life of a crippled little boy to do your bidding, how terrible."

"It's not that!" Bloodraven hissed. "For the past twenty years, at least, the Reach in its entirety is blocked from my vision. I could no longer travel through the roots burrowing deep into earth of th region. But I could work around that—I still had the rest of Westeros to play with, heartrees to see through, and animals to warg into besides. But then, three days past, Westeros in its entirety has been closed to me! My third eye has been sewn shut!" Bloodraven's voice cracked, and fell to a mournful whisper. "I…I lost Bran."

Lyanna felt a pang in her chest—there were dozens, hundreds of 'Brans' out in the world, but she could only think of her brother. And the sheer grief in Bloodraven's voice…whoever Bran was, they must have been close.

Randy frowned sympathetically. "I'm sorry for whatever pain you're going through, but I'm not apologizing for my actions." He turned his sightless gaze towards Lyanna. "I'll stand by my choices."

Lyanna blushed at the pure conviction in his voice—a knightly declaration if she'd ever heard one.

Bloodraven peered emotionlessly at Randy. "…Well said. I like it not, but I can respect it." He and Randy shared a nod, before turning on Thoros. "And now onto you."

The red priest—or perhaps ex-priest—blinked. "Me?"

"Of course." Bloodraven flapped up into the air, and landed on Thoros's shoulder—the man stiffened, but didn't try to shake the bird off. "I sensed you and your fellows land in the Crownlands, observed as you moved westward, but could not gather why you'd done so. No one ever said aloud what your mission was. And then well…" he trailed off into a bitter huff, and bobbed his head towards Randy. "I had to decide between observing you all, or this fucker."

"Aw, and you chose me?" Randy gushed in a falsetto. "I'm flattered."

"Shut up."

"I didn't know our mission either," Thoros cut off the burgeoning argument. "No one said anything until three days ago." He shifted a guilty frown towards Lyanna. "But all they'd said was that we needed to steer history back on its proper course. That you, Lady Stark, needed to be…returned to your proper place and that the interloper"—he pointed to Randy—"needed to die."

Lyanna scowled. "My only place is the North." Would that she never leave her homeland again.

"I'm aware," Thoros bowed his head. "And let take this time to say that I am sorry that I was party to such a…terrible thing."

"It's no matter. You did the right thing, in the end." She smiled at Thoros, who sheepishly returned the gesture.

"Back up a second," Randy cut in. "Did you say 'three days ago'?"

"I did," Thoros replied.

"And you," Randy nodded at Bloodraven. "When did you lose your precognition?"

"My pre-what?"

"Your ability to see the future."

"Three days ago." Bloodraven sucked in a breath. "Ah, I see." Bloodraven dropped from Thoros's shoulder onto the ground, and stared into the campfire. "But was it a lucky coincidence, or a calculated risk?" He huffed. "My vision never extended so far east, so I know little of R'hllor beyond books, and what the odd follower of his has said on Westeros's soil." He turned his beady-eyed stare onto Thoros. "Is your Red God truly as powerful as the tales say?"

"Very much so," Thoros replied. His body sagged. "He wields life and death in equal measure. His presence can warm your soul, or burn it to ash. And I…" he sighed, and dropped his head. "I have betrayed him."

"Don't say that." Lyanna leaned over and put a hand on his shoulder. "What about that nice speech you gave? About serving your god, and not his men?"

Thoros chuckled, a bashful blush blooming on his face. "Honestly, I just wanted to say something clever. Buy some time while I figured out how to fight a sorceress. Thankfully our friend over here"—he jerked his thumb over to Randy—"solved that problem for me."

"You're welcome."

Thoros smiled, but it lasted only a second, his features creasing into a deep frown. "I am little more than a brute within my faith. To be told what to do and where to do it, in the name of the Lord of Light. I don't regret what I did," he quickly said. "In my heart, I know I made the right choice, in helping you, Lady Lyanna." His eyed were wet with unshed tears. "But all the same, I have turned against my god."

Lyanna didn't know what to say to that. Her own religion—the Old Gods of earth and the sky—was much less organized and demanding than the other religions in the world.

"Eh, maybe not." Thoros turned, teary-eyed, towards Randy. "I mean, you don't fully believe what any old red priest tells you they saw in the flame, do you?"

"Not usually," Thoros said guiltily. "It's a privilege among our ranks, but more often than not what one sees aligns in very fortunate ways with something they desire." He shook his head. "But this was different. Multiple different priests and priestesses spoke of the same vision, at the same time."

Randy grimaced. "Well…if it becomes a problem, I'll have your back."

Thoros sniffed. "You would stand against the might of the Lord of Light?"

"I mean, I think I'll be fine so long as I get a big enough bucket."

Lyanna snorted, and Thoros let loose a loud, full-belly laugh. He wiped tears from his eyes. "A bucket? Most people that disparage my lord say they're going to piss him out."

"Ugh, do you have any idea how long that would take? I've got better things to do with my time."

"I'd imagine you could just use your strange magics," Lyanna said. Immediately, there was a shift in the air. Thoros shifted uncomfortably, and Bloodraven stared unblinkingly at Randy.

The man himself just shrugged. "Maybe. Never tussled with a god before. Hell, three days ago marked the first time I used my abilities against another human being."

"Truly?" Lyanna asked.

"Oh yeah." Randy rolled his neck. "Not the first time I've killed a man, mind you—that dubious honor belongs to an angry drunk that ran at me with a knife for winning a game of cards—but I'd only every used my abilities on straw dummies and the odd animal I was hunting." Lyanna's eyes darted to the piles of bodies—smaller than they had been in the morning, but sizable still—under Randy's melted skin. She resisted the urge to ask if he'd…consumed those animals in a similar manner.

"But why do you even have these abilities?" Bloodraven asked. "Why did the gods—whichever ones watch over you—grant you these abilities."

"Fuck if I know," Randy replied. "Soon as I realized what I could do, I just wanted to have some fun."

"Fun," Bloodraven parroted. "You've abilities that would make the Valyrian's of old weep with envy, and you would use them for 'fun'?"

"What, should I tie myself to a tree and watch over the world like it were a che—er, cyvasse board?"

Bloodraven squawked, feathers puffin up as he flapped his wings. "All I have done; I do with one goal in mind!"

"The Iron Throne?" Randy spat.

"The very fate of mankind!" Bloodraven seethed. "And now you, you insufferable bastard, have broken decades of planning!" It was barely an instant, but she could feel Bloodraven's gaze shift onto her.

A cold feeling swept over Lyanna, thoughts she'd done her best to push aside bursting to the front of her mind. She gulped. "Ah, Thoros?"

"Yes, my lady?"

"Did you and your…previous companions walk all the way here?"

"Of course not!" Thoros laughed. "That'd be crazy. We got ourselves some horses and a couple carts to travel."

"I thought so." Lyanna nodded. "Are they nearby?"

"We tied them up a fair bit away." He blinked at the stare she sent him. "Ah…I suppose I should see about that."

"Good call," Randy said from the ground. "Here, Thoros." He opened his mouth, an unlit torch rising up from his gaping maw, falling to the side when it cleared his jaw. It was dry as bone, and Lyanna wasn't sure it that was better or worse than it being slick with saliva. "Keep hold of that—you won't be able to find your way back otherwise. You might feel a little tingly when you pass the barrier I set up, but that's fine."

"…Right." Thoros hesitantly picked up the torch. "Let's be off then, my lady. Leave these two to their…discussion."

"No, I'll stay." He looked at her askance, and a bit imploringly. She was grateful for his care, but this was something she needed to do. "Just bring back two horses and as many supplies as you can."

Thoros was silent for a moment, before he sighed, and lit the torch in their campfire. He secured his sword on his waist, and went on his way.

He did pause briefly at the shimmering wall of air Randy had set up, but walked through with his head held high.

"Ooh! That is tingly."

Lyanna smiled after him until his form disappeared, the light of the torch the only hint of his existence. She turned to Bloodraven and Randy with a glare. "What would have happened if Randy hadn't saved me from Rahegar?"

Bloodraven and Randy shifted uncomfortably.

"He wanted to get me with child," Lyanna continued. "And with his three brutes, I'm sure it would only be a matter of time before it was done." Just thinking about it made her want to scrub her skin raw. "But what else would have happened?" She focused on Randy, eyes boring into him. Her voice cracked as she asked, "What's going to happen to Brandon?"

Bloodraven sighed. "Brandon goes to Kings Landing because of multiple accounts from Smallfolk of four men in dark cloaks camping around Riverrun. Those smallfolk reported that three of the men wore bright white armor under their clothing, and the fourth had silver hair hidden beneath his hood. He, correctly, assumed that Rhaegar and his group absconded with you."

Lyanna nodded. That made sense.

Bloodraven continued. "Him, Ethan Glover, Kyle Royce, Elbert Arryn, and Jeffory Mallister ride to King's Landing to save you—unaware that Rhaegar would not have taken you east, but south, into Dorne."

"Dorne?" Lyanna parroted, incredulous. He would take her to Dorne? The lands of his wife?

"It's actually quite devious," Randy spoke up. "There's this lone tower in the mountains that he would have, well, kept you." His voice dropped to a whisper. "No one would find you until it was too late."

"I don't want to hear about that!" Lyanna shouted "What about Brandon?!"

"Bradon calls for Rhaegar's head," Bloodraven said. "Something which King Aerys—regardless of his own dislike towards his heir—takes great offense to."

Lyanna's blood froze. "T-Then…the King…He kills Bran?"

Randy turned up to her. For the first time that night, he opened his eyes—they were impossibly smooth, as if freshly molded from clay—and stared sadly at her. "Do you really want to know?" All Lyanna could do was nod.

Bloodraven spoke next. Spoke of a terrible tale of death and destruction. Her family torn apart—father burned alive, one brother who strangled himself to save him, another thrust into a position he should never have been in, the third left scared and alone in the wake of it all. And her? Locked up in a tower far from the North, forced to bear her rapist's child.

Come the end of the tale, herself dead of a birthing fever, and dear Ned claiming her son—a small victory against Rhaegar, the Old and the New damn him for eternity—as his own bastard, forever staining his honor, she voided her stomach. Voided it until all that came out were raw, ugly sobs.

Was she damned? Had she wronged the gods somehow? Wronged them so terribly that her family was caught up in their retribution?

"Easy, easy!" Lyanna jerked at the strong grasp on her shoulders. Randy had moved to sit in front of her, and gripped her shoulders. His body was still connected to the dwindling piles of corpses by two chutes of flesh jutting out of his back. Save for that, and the fact that he was bald and his skin was paler than a newborn's, he looked like the picture of health.

He frowned at her. "It's terrible, I know. What you and your family would have gone through, no one deserves that. But I swear, that's not going to happen."

"Well, strictly speaking there's still another few mon—"

"Quiet, you," Randy scolded Bloodraven. The bird crowed, but said nothing else. Randy turned back to Lyanna. He tilted her head up to stare into her eyes. "Hey, one-eight of a plan, remember?"

Lyanna blinked. Then giggled. "I thought it was one-sixth?"

"Yeah well, this whole situation"—he gestured to his body—"set things back a bit." He held his right hand palm up. His flesh bubbled; the corner of a white cloth rose from his skin. He tugged on it, freeing a small cloth from his body. "C'mon, clean yourself up by the water."

Lyanna nodded gingerly accepting the sheet. But before she stood up, she asked. "Is this…made from…?" she trailed off, staring at the corpse piles.

"…Are you going to throw up again?"

Lyanna chuckled—a touch hysteric—and held her stomach. "I think I'm all out."

Randy smirked. "Technically, yes. But in the same way the food you eat is turned into muscle or fat within your body." Or piss and shit, Lyanna thought. "In any case, it's its own object now that it's left my body—though I can eat it to get some mass back, if I want."

Lyanna nodded, and pushed past her reservations as he walked over to the stream and cleaned the pile from her face. When she returned, Randy had returned to a lying position, but kept his arms free and clasped atop his belly, those strange fleshy chutes now sticking out from his sides.

Lyanna settled down next to him, and out of the corner of her eye, saw Thoros finally return with two horses. At least, he tried to. The animals refused to move past the magic screen Randy had set up.

"You need to physically touch them with the torch in hand," Randy called out. Thoros did so, eyes wide as the horses easily moved under his touch.

After tying the horses up by the stream, Thoros sat down next to them, and stabbed the torch into the dirt. "I must say, your magic is far more impressive than anything I've witnessed, read, or heard of."

"Hear, hear," Bloodraven cawed.
"Oh, I don't know," Randy replied. "That fire your red priests can blast out of your hands was pretty impressive."

Lyanna sniffed. "If I fill my mouth with alcohol and spit in front of a flame, I could do the same."

"Yeah, but it won't anything to me aside from torch my clothes." He huffed. "Aw, dammit! I have to remake my clothes. It'll take weeks to break in a new pair of boots." It was at that moment that Lyanna realized that Randy was both nearly-fully healed, and completely naked. Thankfully, she did not have to struggle with any sort of temptation when Thoros took off draped a blanket over Randy's genitals. "Thanks, Thoros. It was getting a bit drafty."

"No problem." Thoros pursed his lips. "Um…Randy, might I ask something of you?"

"Sure."

"May I…have some strips of clothing, from my fallen brothers and sisters? I know they've wronged you and Lady Lyanna terribly but…" he trailed off, before shaking his head. When next he spoke, his voice was flooded with conviction. "But I would honor them as mine, all the same."

Lyanna scowled—she would have preferred all traces of those Targaryen-helping bastards be erased. Snuffed out like an errant flame. But Randy was made of kinder stuff than her. He nodded, and the flesh covering the bodies churned like liquid in a pot. Bits of red clothing floated upward. Thoros grimaced, but managed not to gag when he pulled the clothing out of the mass of flesh, followed by several moist squelches.

He wordlessly thanked Randy, picked the torch back up, and shuffled away from them, his back to them. He stabbed the torch into the ground, dropped onto his knees, and starting praying in some Essosi language Lyanna couldn't hope to recognize.

Bloodraven broke the silence by quietly asking Randy, "What is your plan—miniscule as it is?"

"I'm still figuring that out—it honestly depends on if we manage to intercept Brandon Stark before he can reach King's Landing." He huffed. "And for that, we need to ride at dawn, so its best we all sleep."

At his words, an aching tiredness seeped into Lyanna's bones. She stifled a yawn. "Yes, I'd best sleep." She blanched. "Though I imagine I'll have my fair share of nightmares of that horrible future."

"You were the one that asked," Bloodraven replied. "But I shall do my part to ensure that you are not besieged by nightmares."

"You can do that?" Lyanna asked.

The bird preened. "I may not be able to make the very elements bend to my will—or whatever the hell else our friend has hidden up his sleeves—but rest assured I possess my own fantastical abilities." Lyanna nodded gratefully at the bird—she wondered where in the word he was, and how powerful he was to warg into an animal for so long—and turned to Randy. He'd already shut his eyes, and settled into a deep rhythmic breathing. The piles of corpses steadily shrank—it'd be gone by morning.

She thanked the gods for sending this strange, horrifying man to her, before retiring to her tent. They had a rough day ahead of them.

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A/N: And thus the party expands, a druid and paladin joining our sorcerer and…barbarian, I guess. A young, vastly inexperienced and sheltered barbarian.