Chapter 39: Hardhome
Qarth…
The inside of the Palace of Dust, know to the world as the House of Undying, that to everyone would seem like a maze, was a dark place, and how Red Priestess love to say, full of terrors. But her daughter seemed like if she was in a hypnotized state, walking forward and following the warlock instructions to where the dragon should be, after the dwarf gave them shade of the evening, even though to her, he gives it hesitantly. She still couldn't believe that Pyat Pye had told them where the dragon was, and part of her didn't want to believe him.
And now they were walking through a long torch-lit hallway with seemingly endless doors on the left, but she never took off the hand from the dagger that Quaithe gave her.
As they keep walking, Rhaella could notice that some doors were open and she could see what seemed to be visions, and she was wondering if Daenerys was seeing the same things.
The first thing to see was clearly from her past, even if it wasn't a clear vision, but the shadow sitting upon the Iron throne laughing and screaming was her late husband-brother. Aerys. She coursed the mere shapes of him, beside the remembering of him, before seeing another vision, same unclear, but this time she was sure it wasn't from her past.
They continued to walk in the same direction as per the warlock's instruction, once the long torch-lit hallway ended, they descended the staircase which leading downwards
After this, Daenerys suddenly stopped, and they found themselves in front of wide doors of ebony and Weirwood decorated in interwoven patterns.
"Can you feel it, mother?"
"Yes," she replied, feeling a powerful presence on the other side. A bond. Blood of their Blood.
"Are you ready?" her daughter asked, placing one hand on one of the door, and Rhaella nodded, placing her hand and pushing it open revealing a great hall behind it. It was full of wizards, male and female, wearing elaborate dresses. Some wore sumptuous robes of ermine, ruby velvet, and cloth of gold. Others fancied elaborate armor studded with gemstones, or tall pointed hats speckled with stars. There were women among them, dressed in gowns of surpassing loveliness. Shafts of sunlight slanted through windows of stained glass, and the air was alive with the most beautiful music she had ever heard.
A kingly man in rich robes rose when he saw her and smiled. "Daenerys of House Targaryen be welcome. Come and share the food of forever. We are the Undying of Qarth."
"Long have we awaited you," said a woman beside him, clad in rose and silver. "But I fear we do not know who your friend is."
Rhaella didn't trust their welcoming words and looked around for a door that will give them the chance to continue this journey, and escape from them. Her eyes settled to the right feeling the same draw, and pulling Daenerys by the hand, rushed in that direction, "I can feel it. They are this way."
And after they passed a hidden door of old grey wood, they found themselves in a gloomy chamber, where in the middle, there was a Stoney table, above which there was a human heart, with an unusual colour. Purple, like the lips of the warlocks, and with Indigo light pulses out with each deep, throbbing beat.
Around it, there were dead warlocks, and even if they weren't talking, she could hear whispers of words that she can't understand.
Deep in the back of the chamber, Rhaella noticed a tied hooded figure, with light locks coming down on her covered chest, and she wondered if that person was the sorceress that they were searching. That they came to save.
Suddenly visions of events from the past and the present, just like before started to appear, clouding her mind, but this time, Rhaella felt as if her strength, her will, her own life was drawing away. But a breath of fire interrupted everything, and when she opened her eyes, Rhaella saw Syrax burning all the Undying ones who were around them.
"Quick mother! We need to free her," said Daenerys rushing towards the hooded figure, and Rhaella followed her right behind the moment the strange feeling she had disappeared.
"You finally came," the woman, whispered, smiling, as the chains that were on her, disappeared, making her fall to the ground, and they helped her up.
"This place is falling, Dany. We need to leave. Now!" Rhaella said as Syrax was continuing to destroy everything.
After Syrax destroyed the Undying ones and the House of the Undying, the dragon started to burn all the surroundings and attacking the city, while she saw Qartheen soldiers rush up the stairs to attack them. In that moment she saw Pyat Pye run towards them with a dagger in hand, and pushing her daughter aside, Rhaella pulled out hers and stabbed the warlock in the heart, who backed away screaming in a sibilant sound, before taking fire, as Syrax tore it apart.
"Thank you, mother," Daenerys, said, coming to her. "But I doubt we will be able to escape the soldier of Qarth that are approaching."
Suddenly a rain of arrows came on the army, making them fall to the ground like flies and Rhaella saw Ser Barristan and Capitan Balaq come with a small force of the Golden Company, made mainly of archers.
"Well, I see that you managed to destroy that cursed place, princess, and found the dragon," the Capitan of the archers said, cleaning his sword. "The Brotherhood had been seized and is waiting for you at their headquarter."
"Thank you, Capitan. Please and give orders for your men to escort the lady Shiera here to the main ship, and Ser Arthur with Aurane too. I want your best men to accompany us to the pirates."
The Capitan nodded, starting to give orders, while Rhaella was watching the woman, who was walking away smirking.
Moments later they found themselves in front of the angry pirates, and one of their old leaders said, "This wasn't part of our agreement. I asked that Qarth was left unharmed in exchange of the rulership and fleet of the Brotherhood. You destroyed the House of the Undying, the walls, the houses, the palace with your dragon, and sacked us of our goods, of our gold of everything we had precious!"
"Neither tacking my dragon was part of the agreement, and yet you did," Daenerys replied with calmly, but with a firm tone, a cold gaze, and an unimpressed look at the older pirate. And this attitude of hers made Rhaella very proud. A true Targaryen. "Now. Tell me if the covenant agreed upon is still valid or if I must take the ships with fire and blood."
And Rhaella could see the other younger pirates tense at the mention of those words, placing their hands on their weapon, and so did she, as she saw their soldiers did too, with Ser Barristan right next to Daenerys ready to protect should the enemy try to attack.
What she found strange was the fact that Izmahr wasn't her despite claiming to be Daenerys sworn shield since Tyrosh. But now she needs to be focused on the present, on this moment.
"So? What do you choose?"
"The agreement is still one. Eight hundred ships will leave for Myr, but I want your word that you will stay out and away from Qarth's business for the rest of your life."
"You have," Daenerys replied, nodding her head, before turning on her heels, however, after a few steps, she stepped, and only glancing say, "But remember do not try to play me with this or I will come back and rain fire on you."
With those words, they left the place, heading with the soldiers and everyone else back to the ship, but not before asking for someone to stay here.
"I suppose now we are sailing for Astapor," Rhaella said, and her daughter nodded, while the dragon flow above them, releasing some roars in the meantime.
Moments later…Open Sea…
She was standing in front of the woman's door, raising and lowering her fist, pondering if to knock or not, but in the end, she decides to do it and taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door, waiting for it to open, as she was resting her hand on her belly.
Moments later, the door opened, and she saw the woman standing there. Her very long hairs gathered to one side and wearing a very light silk robe, that was falling tightly over her body. On her face, she was showing a smug, that was high lightening her mismatched eyes.
"So, are you going to stand there all night, Princess, or are you going to step in?" the woman said, breaking her moment of distraction and admiration, and looking down, Daenerys entered in.
When the door closed, and she stopped in the middle of the cabin, Daenerys didn't rose her head, but wetting her lips said, "Ahem…I came here to see how you were, and if…"
But she was stopped by the woman's lips on her, who a few moments before grabbed her chin, "You taste sweetly, princess. The dragon's fire burns within you and you have been kissed by the winter rose."
Daenerys was stunned, speechless, and didn't know how to react after this, as the woman moved away to fill herself a cup of wine, sitting on the chair, crossing her legs.
"I am well. But after decades of being imprisoned by the Warlocks, I want to have fun and pleasure."
"Pleasure and fun are not in our near future, my lady," Daenerys blurted out. "Only war."
"Do you think so?" she asked with a raised eyebrow, drinking the whole content before standing up, and walking over to her. Daenerys felt her breathing increase as the woman started to round her, she said, "Yet judging by your conditions fun and pleasure is more than guaranteed, Mother of Dragons."
"I don't know what you are speaking of," replied Daenerys turning to the side, blushing.
The woman, stopping behind her, immediately wrapped her arm around her middle, and resting the hand on her belly that was starting to show said, "Inside you, I can feel the son of light. The magic of Old Valyria flows through him."
"Just like through me and through my mother and my husband," she replied, but the woman said nothing, moving away towards the bed.
"So, your husband is at the wall now, surrounded by enemies, and with the death marching on him."
"Do you know how he is?" she immediately asked, but the woman shook her head, pulling down her dress, and once she was on the bed, Shiera said, smirking and running her hands up her naked side, "Are you joining me?"
But Daenerys turning on her heels said, "We are sailing for Astapor," Leaving the cabin and heading back to hers, where she was staying with her mother.
In Westeros…
Riverlands…
They were miles away south from Riverrun, where the armies of the trout withdraw, and on which the Lion was marching at the moment, according to Thoros, but the place where he was supposed to face his enemy was called the Mummer's Ford. Here will be where the Lord of Light wanted him to be, despite him not knowing why.
Once the ambush for the hundreds men that were approaching was settled, he went in the search of the Red Priestess which was ay for far too long, and he also needs to speak with her. A battlefield wasn't a place for her, and now that these men were under his command, he had all the intention to keep them alive, despite their claim in saying they don't fear death because they are doing the Red God's will.
When he reached the place where she was, he saw her naked near the river. He looked at her for a moment, running his eyes up and down, but when she glanced at him, smirking, he immediately turned his back, beating his fist.
"Don't be embarrassed. You can have me if you want," the woman said, and he glanced over his shoulder, seeing her smirking, putting on her red robe and ting it, before approaching him.
"I'm not embarrassed, and I don't want you," he replied, sitting on a rock. "Aren't you afraid, my lady? To wash all naked when just a few steps away there are hundreds of men who may die soon, and you are the only woman her."
"They may try if they wish, but they will have to face the wrath of the Lord of Light as well."
"And you give yourself to me knowing that he will bring his wrath upon me if I touch you?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, settling his hand on the handle of the sword.
"No. No wrath, for you are blood of kings. They are not," the woman replied seriously this time, stopping in front of him and placing her hand on his face. "There is power in a King's blood. Power to make life and death. Power to raise armies and destroy them." "But You do not believe me, so I would say that it is time to reveal who you really are."
"I don't want that."
"No?" she asked, confusion clear on her face. "Yet for the past few years, it was what you were lamenting not having. What has changed?"
"Nothing," he replied, walking a few steps away before releasing a sigh. "I don't know. I am afraid of the truth and the meaning it may hold."
"But I will tell you anyway, because you need to be ready for what will come, and I must say that this will also give you a reason to destroy this enemy," Melisandre said, and h took a long breath, feeling that heartbeat in an unusual manner, and tingles all over his body.
"You are Prince Rhaegar of house Targaryen, son of King Aerys and Queen Rhaella. You are the last dragon that fell on the trident before the mad stag fourteen years ago," the Red priestess said, leaving him shocked and speechless for a moment, as he backed away, to sit on a rock. "I know what you are thinking, and Thoros of Myr advised me to reveal it to you in time while we make the way for the coming of the dragons in this land, but there is no time for that."
He still didn't know what to say, how to react, but remembering the reason why he was brought here, he asked, swallowing, "What did Thoros mean when he said that this battle was mine?"
"The man who lads this small force that you are going to face is the same man that butchered your children and raped and killed your first wife."
"What?!" he shouted, getting up, and approaching him.
"Elia Martell, Princess of Dorne, your first wife, and her children, your children, had been killed by the Lannister men, the one that they called the Mountain when the Red City fell-"
"Aegon and Rhaenys," he breathed out the names, as something in his mind started to show up. Old memories that had been buried for years, started to bloom again, and giggles of a little girl can be heard inside his head.
Suddenly the clearing of a throat, broke his thoughts, drawing their both attention, and he saw that it was Thoros, "What is it?"
"They are coming, and they are many," the old red Priestess said, smirking, with hands intertwined in front of his lower armour part.
"Good. Then tell everyone to get in their position," he said to the one that he considered a friend, who nodded, taking a long sip from his flask full of rum, and leaving, while he turning to the Red Priestess, said, "Stay hidden till the end of the battle, my lady. If we lose ride away. If we win, we will have a lot to discuss."
"I do not fear them, dragonlord. The Lord of Light is with me and as long as I am with you, you will win," Melisandre said, pulling up her hood, and approaching him, before saying, "rise your sword so I can give you the power of the Lord of Light and with you to the others."
"I do not need his power only the rage I am feeling towards those who harmed my family," he replied, storming away, with squeezed fists.
Everyone was in their positions ready for the ambush, and he himself was hiding behind a rock, glancing towards the enemy who was riding fast towards the ford and trying not to be discovered. The sun was high in the sky at this moment, covering the traps they have set on the ground to receive the enemy.
When he heard the screams of the first riders who fell to the ground after their horses fell to the ground too, he waved to Angus to start the attack, he saw the archer shooting an arrow with barbed wire, following by many mores, that stopped the enemy, and therefore, he, coming from behind the rock, shouted, rising his flaming sword, "Now!"
And a rain of arrows started to fall on the enemy, who tried in vain to hide under their shields, as their arrows manage to reach their destination. The enemy started to charge at them, under the rain of arrows, and the one under his command did the same, as he went straight at the big one. The one that was wearing the emblem of three hounds on a yellow field.
The man roared, swinging his swords and trying to strike him, but he easily avoided the blows, by pairing or dogging them. The opponent was also heavily armoured as he could see, and there weren't many openings that he could see.
Suddenly a powerful attack came at him and he managed to parry it in time with his sword, but not quickly enough to take a steady position to resist. As a result, he flew a few steps backward and was stunned for a moment.
Rhaegar recovered in time to avoid the next attack from the giant man who charged at him with force and speed. Trying to remember his moves, Rhaegar started to use his advantage and strike his opponent in week points that he may have, and once he brought that beast of a man to his knee and without hands as he managed to cut them before.
Without wasting time, and without giving the chance to that beast of a man to try something, Rhaegar cut off the Mountain's head, with the swing of a sword.
"For my family," he said, feeling his whole body shake in rage, as he fell a hand on his shoulders, and glancing, saw it was Thoros of Myr.
"They are retreating with the tail between their legs." the red Priest said, laughing. "And I see that you took your revenge."
"No. Not yet. Sent someone with his head to every village that he attacked. I want word to be spread across Westeros about his death."
With those last words, he left the battlefield after throwing to the ground the sword.
King's Landing…
The antics of the marriage between Renly Baratheon and the Royce girl was finally over, while the king was already deep in his mugs of wine and groping servants girl left and right.
His daughter left the wedding feast hours ago, while he, as the King's Hand, was forced to witness this ongoing antics. A waste of time.
"Lord Tywin," a young knight came before him when Tywin was ready to retire, and judging by his colours, features, and coat of arms, he was from the Vale. "May I have a word with you?"
He nodded, and as they moved away, he heard the knight say, "I apologize for the bluntness with which I will speak to you, but since my arrival in King's Landing, certain...rumours have reached my ears."
"Rumours? About what?"
"You know that I am here not only to accompany Lady Ysilla for her wedding on behalf of Lord Royce, but also to take custody of Princess Myrcella, and accompany her to the Valle, where she will be fostered by Lady Waynwood, who will teach the Princess the customs of those lands, as per the King's suggestions.."
"Get to the point, Ser."
"There are rumours that question the Princess's legitimacy."
"I assure you that whatever rumours you hear, they are untrue," Tywin replied, not liking her implication at all, despite knowing Joffrey's origins, but he did not want to believe that Myrcella and Tommen were children born of incest. Especially considering that the little girl was kind of heart, and the boy shy and good, not like that…abomination.
"Lord Tywin?"
"As I told you, Ser, they are untrue. Princess Myrcella is the king's daughter and his most precious jewel. He would not like to hear about the insinuations made about his daughter. The light of his eyes," Tywin replied, laying of course, and looking at the man, who lost all his colour become white as a ghost, but before he could say anything, Tywin rose his hand now if you will excuse me," heading to his chambers. He needs to rest and wake at first lights tomorrow.
Next morning…
The next morning, when he awoke, Tywin called a meeting of the Small Council, although the King did not intend to be present, and on his way to the Council Chamber, he met the Tyrell girl, "Lady Margery," he greeted her.
"Lord Tywin."
"May I have a word with you."
"Of course, my lord," she replied, smiling, as they started walking. "I heard your brother Willas is prisoner of the Targaryens in Myr, and I'm sorry for that."
"Thank you, Lord Hand. I live in hope that they will release him as soon as possible, and unharmed of course."
"We all hope so, my lady," Tywin replied, even though he hopes that the boy will die there. "But I would like to talk with you about the future of the crown. War is coming, the king will soon leave for the Vale with the army of the Stormlands that is coming. The Prince already is in a land of war."
"And you want to know if I am pregnant or not. My answer is that I don't know, Lord Tywin, but I hope so. After all, it's only been a month since he left."
"Of course," he said, bowing, and leaving her there. The girl is quite smart. Trying every cards, she had to buy her position. Just like his daughter did and as he did before with the Raynes.
Once he reached the chamber, Tywin saw that the members were already waiting for him, or some of them.
"We don't have much time for the affairs of state, only for the urgent ones, as the King has the intention to sail today, and is expecting our report," he said sitting. "Lord Varys. What news from the east?"
"The Targaryen are consolidating the power on the Dispute Land and the Stepstone, wiped the lairs of pirates, but my little birds also informed me that they are not in the city. They left more or less a moon ago."
"To where?"
"I fear I don't know, Lord Hand, though a few days ago I heard whispers regarding a dragon defeating a wildling army at the wall."
"Mance Rayder?" he asked, remembering the raven he got from Maester Aemon of Castle Black.
"Yes."
"Is he still there?" asked Tywin, shifting in his seat, and starting to think what to do with this opportunity if he was really there, even though he still didn't believe the rumours.
"Yes. Though, I heard that a northern fleet sailed beyond the wall."
"Is Bolton with them too or did he remain back at the Dreadfort?"
"I fear I don't know yet. But last time I heard he was still stuck at the Dreadfort."
"Then there is nothing else to do for now. Let's turn our attention to Westeros," he stopped to take a breath and wet his throat with some arbore wine. Clearing it, he continued. "How are the situation in Dorne and Reach? As far as I can see the representatives of these two regions are not present."
"Lord Yronwood received the oaths of fealty from some of the Houses of Dorne after his House was raised to Great one and with the title of Prince of Dorne, but others like
"And my grandson? How is Prince Tommen?"
"He is well, and my little birds inform me that he is making great progress with the sword and the lance, thanks to the teachings of Lord Yronwood's brother, Ser Julien, and Ser Aerys Oakheart."
"It is not his fighting qualities that matter to me, but his political qualities. How is the master of that castle instructed?"
"Well instructed, Lord Hand, but I doubt he is up to the task...But perhaps the little Lady will help Prince Tommen in that regard."
"And how are things progressing between them?"
"Very well, I should say. The little girl grows very fond of him, while the Prince, is still too shy with her."
"There is still time for that. However, there is no time left for the Maester of Ships who is stuck at Dragonstone and refuses the king's summon."
"He is still holding a grudge against the king for giving him Dragonstone, Lord Hand."
"Perhaps. But these are not times for grudges, Lord Renly. House Baratheon must stand together in the coming wars," he replied, looking at the youngest of the Baratheons, before taking another sip, and continuing. "But since his behavior is unacceptable, I have decided, in agreement with the king, to revoke his title as Master of Ships and assign it to Lord Redwyn, who is on his way to the Capital."
The Baratheon said nothing, and after looking at the other members, said, "Now you are dismissed, my lords. I have many things to do and decide."
The members immediately got up, leaving one after the other, however, before the spider could leave, he stopped him, "A moment, Lord Varys." And getting up, he took two folded parchments from his bag, returning back to the Maester of whispers.
"I want you to deliver this to whoever rules Tyrosh in this moment, and to who is in charge of the Golden Company."
"Of course, Lord hand," the man said, taking them, and leaving.
He was sure that the man will read them, but he doesn't care as it has nothing valuable that he didn't want for others to find. And now that he was alone, he can continue his work for the future of his grandson's rule.
In the North….
It had been a few days since they left East Watch in the direction of Hardhome, and the winds blowing from the North were against them. The journey was quite dangerous too, and stormy. The sea was unrested, and they lost five ships, and only the Gods know where they are now. Scattered or on the bottom of the Sea.
He didn't get much sleep in those days of sailing. Too many worries on his mind. Daenerys and Rhaella. Ghost, Ashara and Arthur. And now Caraxes who he was forced to leave behind at East Watch under Robb's watchful eye, because the Dragon can't cross the Wall for some strange trick of fate.
And now he was heading to Hardhome. Another looming danger that may be even worse than the Old Valyria. He knows very well the stories that are said about that unholy place.
According to the stories he heard through the Free Cities, Hardhome had been halfway to become a great city, and the only true city North of the Wall, until one night, six hundred years ago, when hell had engulfed it.
Its inhabitants had been carried off as slaves or slaughtered for meat, depending on which version of history was believed; their homes and halls had been consumed in a conflagration that burned so hot that observers on the Wall far to the south had thought the sun was rising in the north.
The ashes rained down on the haunted forest and the Shivering Sea for almost half a year, while the merchants reported of finding only nightmarish devastation where Hardhome stood, a landscape of charred trees and burnt bones, waters choked with bloated corpses, chilling screams echoing from the mouths of the caverns that pierced the great cliff that loomed over the settlement.
Six centuries had passed since that night, but Hardhome was still shunned. The wilderness had reclaimed the site, the wayfarers had been told, but the Night's Watch rangers claimed that the overgrown ruins were haunted by demons and flaming ghosts with an unhealthy taste for blood. Well, if the visions were true, that was exactly what awaited him beyond the Wall. Death, blood, and coldness.
Shaking his head from those shivering thoughts, Aenar got up. He needs to leave this cabin and get some fresh air from above. So, putting on the cloak, he went up the docks.
Outside the sky was dark greyish, sight that it won't be a sunny day. But fortunately, the winds turned in their favour now and were making their journey beyond the wall faster.
"Again bad dreams, your grace?" he heard his uncle say, and Aenar chuckled.
"No. I only needed some fresh air to clear my mind. You know, Daenerys, Rhaella, my mother Ashara and Ghost Arthur. And now Caraxes. And don't call me 'your grace'."
"Nothing will happen to your dragon. Do not worry."
"I know," he sighed, looking down in the water at his reflection.
"You have your father's brooding face," Eddard Stark said, approaching him and leaning against the side of the ship. "The weight of the crown on his shoulder. And the worries. We may not have been friends, but everyone who looked at him could say that."
"And my mother Lyanna?"
"Lyanna," he chuckled the name, before signing with sorrow, "Eh, Lyanna. She was a wild girl since childhood. Defying our father's way of imposing the woman's duty. And of course, when he understood that there was no way on suppressing that wildness in her, he decided to let her be the way she wanted. And so she started to train with the sword. Wiping Benjen's ass so many times on the ground, and almost mine."
"Arya is like her, isn't she?"
"Yes, she is. At first, I wanted to name her Lyanna, to honour my dead sister, but the pain I felt was too much to do that," his uncle replied, stopping, to clean some tears that fell down, as he looked at him, not knowing what to say. "How is she? Arya."
"Well. And she is becoming a formidable warrior, I must say."
"I don't doubt it," his uncle chuckled, glancing at him. "She is trained by the Sword of the Morning."
They suddenly got interrupted by the ginger man who goes by the name of Tormund, and who approaching them, said, "We are here, boy. Hardhome." Pointing the finger towards a settlement that looked pretty abandoned at first sight, only to reveal people come out and run towards the shore.
"Well, then it's better if we get ready," he said, nodding to his uncle and the old Bear Lord Commander, who in the meantime came up on the docks too, approaching them. Before he went down below the docks Aenar heard Mormont say, "I hope you know what you are doing, your grace, otherwise it will be our end."
Hardhome…
Moments later, they were rowing with three boats full of soldiers, towards the shores of this peninsula, where the settlement was placed, as he could see. More of them will come if the meeting will go as they planned.
Climbing down from the boat, Aenar could see the fearless wildlings, with weapons in hand, glaring at him, and ready to attack, while his uncle, placing a hand on his shoulder and looking at the crowd, whispered to him, "I hope you know what you are doing, nephew, otherwise Westeros will lose a future King, the North his lords and the Night's Watch their Lord Commander."
"Don't worry. I know what I'm doing," he replied, patting his uncle's arm, before taking a long breath, and start to follow Mance Rayder, Tormund and the Wildling Princess Val, towards the main hut which was the biggest of them all, but on their way, their path was blocked by a tall man wearing what seemed to be an armour of bones.
"Lord of the bones," Mance Rayder greeted him with a nod.
"Well, well, well…The King-beyond the Wall…broke by a southern army…Or must I say a boy barely grown."
"We don't have time to waste in squabbling. Gather the elders. I need to speak with them," Mance Rayder replied, while the wilding Princes approached the other man whispering something to his ear before he stepped aside as did the other making their way clear. Mance Rayder glanced at him, nodding, as they all started to walk.
Moments later….
All the elder clans' chiefs were gathered around the hearth, roaring and screaming at Mance Rayder and those who returned with him, calling them traitors, while Mance was looking at them with pride and defiance.
"We won't bend the knee to this southern King who doesn't even have the age to be called a man," said a tall young man, "If we do, our ancestor will spit on us if we broke bread with a southron."
Now, after hearing this, he had enough, deciding to truly deal with them, as a King not an equal, so stepping forward, he said, "Until now you have insulted us, mocked us, criticized us, and labeled us as enemies when it is you who have gathered an army to march on my kingdoms. To cross a Wall-"
"A wall built by you," a beautiful woman with dark hair, and who went by the name of Karsi said.
"Built by us to defend ourselves from the true enemy. Yet you stayed in their lands Beyond the Wall, not in the South. You chose to live here not with us, thousands of years ago."
"Then Why have you come here?" an old chief clan, with reddish hair and grey beard, asked.
"To bring you all south," he said, looking at him, and glancing at his uncle. "There are good lands south of the Wall. I have ships waiting offshore, ready to take you down, and I will allow your people to farm these lands in the south."
"And what is the price of these lands and our rescue?" Karsi asked, while the others behind started to murmur behind.
"If you swear to join us when the real war begins," he replied, looking at all of them, before settling his eyes on one of the giants that were inside the hut.
"Fight beside our sworn enemy you say?" the young man said, approaching him, as Aenar was looking at him without fear. "Never! I would rather stay here and face the enemy on our on than ally myself with a kneeler who killed our brothers, sons, and fathers."
"And you killed ours with all your raids, and invasions. But now I am here, asking you to forget the dead, as we did and think about the future of your children as I saw there were many of them," he said, drifting his attention away from the young man and speaking to all the others who were there. "If we don't band together. They will have no future. Isn't that more important than your own pride?"
But no one of them said anything, and he feared that he went too forward, but nevertheless, sighing and glancing down for a moment he breath out the words that he hope may stir their curiosity to trust him, "When I was in Old Valyria, the Gods showed me a vision. A vision of the future and of the true enemy The Long Night is coming, and the dead come with it just like eight thousand years ago. No clan can stop them. The free folk can't stop them. The Night's Watch can't stop them. And all the southern armies can't stop them. Only together, all of us, and even then, it might not be enough, but at least then we'll give the fuckers a fight."
"A beautiful speech you made," came the voice of an old woman as she made her way through the clans. "Are you the man of whom the winds are singing of? The man with a dragon? The man with the ships that will carry us across the Narrow Sea?"
"Yes. I have dragons and three cities in the Narrow Sea."
The old woman said nothing else to him, but turned her attention to the elders, saying, "He is the one that I saw in my vision. He will take us to safety across the Narrow Sea."
The cliffs started to confer among themselves for a moment, but Mance Rayder, approaching him, said, "It is done. They are yours now."
And Aenar nodded, as the red-haired old chief said, "We accept your condition, kneeler. Bring the boats."
Hours later…
The sky was getting dark with every hour that passed and he did not like it. The boats were moving too slow and still, too many FreeFolkes were left on the ground instead of on the ships. Valuable warriors to be more precise.
"You have a rather unhappy expression, nephew, for someone who achieved in bringing peace between Westeros and the Wildlings. What is troubling you?"
"Too slow, uncle. I can feel the enemy getting closer and closer, and at least half of them are still on the ground," Aenar replied, looking up at the darkened sky in the distance and then at the mountains.
"Yes, I can feel it too. And most of the warriors are still on the ground," his uncle replied, crossing his arms, looking around in the distance, with furrowed eyebrows and a stern expression. "Let me see if anything can be done to speed it up."
And Aenar nodded, seeing his uncle move away, while he helped some children that were still on the ground get on the boat, while at the same time keeping an eye on the inland.
We must speed their ascent to the ships," said Ned, approaching the ginger man who was helping some of them make their way to the boats with the Princess of the Wildlings.
"What do you think we're doing? Scratching our asses? Of course, we're trying to do it as fast as we can."
Ned shook his head, at the wildlings vulgar words as he walked away, and heard the girl say, "So he really is your nephew?"
"I beg your pardon, my lady?"
"The dragonrider. Is he truly your nephew?"
"Yes. But I don't see what that has to do with the reason for my approach."
"Nothing. I was just curious," the girl said, smiling, and he nodde, continuing to walk, but sensing she was following him.
"There are many things that still need to be done, my lady, so if you have to ask me something do it quickly."
"That I can see. But I also can see that the FreeFolcks don't listen to you. So I will stick with you and help you on this task of yours."
"My lady. You should be on a ship and not down here."
"You think I can't defend myself, Lord Stark? I'm a spearwife and you saw me holding a dagger when you came to the tent."
he said nothing, shaking his head and keeping going. If she wants to stick with him, so be it. After all, her help may be useful in convincing the Wildlings to quicken their getting on the ships and leave every useless thing behind.
"I hope that your southern people won't cut out our throats," came Tormund's voice, but before he could reply, the dogs that were in the settlement, started to bark, and in the distance, Aenar could see a snowstorm approaching them at great speed, and the wildings chief that was at the gates immediately close them, before it could wipe them all as it stopped at the wooden walls.
"Fuck!" cursed the ginger man, running away, towards the crowd, as everyone's attention turned to that direction, and Aenar himself started to slowly walk through the crowd towards the wooden gates and suddenly screams and scratch from the those who were on the other side could be heard, and one of the chief near the gates screamed, "THE DEADE!"
Chaos erupted at hearing those words, and those who were on this side of the wall started to rush towards the waters, knocking many on the way, and even starting fights between themselves, as they tried to push some from his way.
The doors were shut and locked as the storm hit it full force before a silence fell on the other side. The Magnar of Thenns approached the gates, peering through a crack to the other side, and suddenly scream and screech came from the other side, as the Magnar started to destroy the undead who were trying to make their way under the gates.
"Fuck!" Aenar cursed, looking for his uncle or Mance Rayder, but could see no one of them, only that the dead were trying to breach the walls. If only Caraxes was here.
"Southern king!" he heard a woman call him, grabbing his elbow. "What are we going to do?!"
He looked at her for a moment, then towards the gates, then again at her, then around them in the hope to see his uncle, but since there was no one, and still feeling tucking at his arm, Aenar said, "Defend the breaches. They must not pass the walls."
And pulling out the sword, made his way through the frightened crowd, heading straight to the wall, where the wildings were trying to kill what looked like undead people?
He shakes his head from this moment of distraction, before, twirling the sword and charging towards the opening, slashing and punching, looking back for help.
Their weapons were useless against this enemy. They were fighting walking dead men, cutting them to pieces, but it seemed to not be enough to stop them because even crawling, they kept attacking. He tried to keep an eye on his nephew, who was fighting near the opening in the wall, but it was too difficult to be focused on him as those who passed the wall were many. Fortunately, that the girl left otherwise he would have had another problem on his mind.
"Jon!" he shouted to Lord Umber, who was a few steps away from him, slicing right and left, and punching some skeletons, roaring in the meantime.
When the Great Lord looked towards him, Ned pointed the hand towards his nephew, and Umber nodded, taking some men, and heading in that direction, while he turned his attention back to the undeads that were coming from other breaches and protecting the retreat.
The wildlings brought a sled to block the breach that he was defending, but he wasn't sure it will hold. His Valyrian steel was good enough to keep the enemy dead, and not rise again, but it was fire that they need, and he knew it.
In that moment, as the Great Northern Lord, came in his aid too, Aenar hear a loud scream from the left side, and looking at the cliff, he saw riders atop some undead horse. Immediately a wave of undead came down, following right behind by what looked like spiders? Spiders big as hounds.
"What in the bloody hell is that?" the northern Lord said, stopping from the fight, and shocked, but Aenar didn't wait to find out, seeing his uncle in trouble with the enemy, and immediately charged. In that direction.
Jumping on the enemy, he quickly cleared the surroundings, and after helping his uncle up, said, "We need to leave, Lord Stark."
"Yes, but-" he couldn't finish as a spider jumped on him, and Aenar killed the beast immediately before he could pull out the ice stinger. However, another one came at them, before he could help his uncle up, but this one had someone on top of him, and Aenar started to fight the beast and the one that was on him. The thing that was on top looked a lot like those creatures from his vision that conquered the south and were under the control of the crowned Ice King.
He still couldn't believe his eyes that all this was true and that the one that he was fighting now on top of that spider, was White Walker.
"Aenar!" he hears his uncle shout as he came to help him fight the spider, sticking his sword in the beast and making the White Walker fall from the top.
"Go uncle!" he said, cutting some more undeads, as the White Walker rose up, but his uncle charged at the creature. "Wait!"
The moment the sword of his uncle made contact with the enemy's ice spear, the blade of his sword shattered, and the enemy knocked his uncle to the ground, ready to stab him with the spear.
Without wasting time, Aenar charged at the White Walker, hoping that his sword won't shatter at the contact, and the moment the clash happened, Blackfire stopped the ice blade, and he saw the same surprise that was on his face, on the enemy's face.
Without hesitation, he dodged the attack, and stroke the enemy, who blow up in a dust of ice. Another one charged at him, screaming like the cracking of ice on a winter lake, but he managed to destroy this one too, and help his uncle up.
"We need to go," he Sid, as another wave of wights came down from the cliff and he saw him. The crowned Wight Walker. The one he saw in the vision. They were screwed now.
"Come on!" he heard as he was dragged away by his uncle.
Moments later…
From the last boat that was heading towards the ships, he was looking at the shores, where the slaughtering of the Wildlings, who could not save themselves, was happening.
Thousands of undeads were on the shores and thousands of wildlings' dead bodies were lying there too, while the white walkers were screaming in his direction. Some on land and others on top of the ice spiders.
Suddenly, a group of them started to step aside, making the way to the king, giving Aenar the chance to take a better look at him. He was bald and with spikes that came out his head, making him look royalty. His eyes were the colour of light ice that were piercing his mind and gazing deep into his soul.
"By the old gods. What is that thing?" his uncle asked in fear.
"Their king, Lord Stark. At least that is what I think," he replied, starting to regain his normal breathing, which he lost during their run.
The Ice King, keeping his gaze on him, rose up his arms, and suddenly, all those who were dead on land rose up, again alive, and with eyes the same couloir of the King.
"By the old Gods! We are fucked," he heard Umber say, and Aenar agreed with him. Indeed, they were fucked.