Valyria

298 AC

They got back to the Waking Serpent as the red sky began to turn maroon.

The demon hadn't been waiting for them outside the gate. Nothing else had disturbed them either as they'd quietly made their way through the city and back onto the black stone highway of the dragonroad.

Then, once they'd reached the end of the long bridge, they climbed down the rocky slope and onto the pearly white sand of the beach. Minutes had gone by the time they'd gotten the rowboat back out onto the water and were paddling over to the Serpent.

Mormont let his men climb up first. Gods know they'd needed it more than he did. They were all quite shaken up, even if he'd been the one who'd nearly been torn apart by the blasted demon.

He climbed up the ladder last. His men were hauling up the rowboat when he'd nearly been slammed overboard in a bone-crushing hug.

Mormont glanced down at his waist and saw a head of charcoal black curls. For only the briefest of moments, he'd wondered if it was Duncan's face he'd see in a few moments.

Then he realized that Duncan was far away. Back on Bear Island. Likely being lectured by Maege on having proper table manners or some such.

Jon had parted, embarrassed for almost throwing his uncle into the water. "Sorry uncle."

"Not at all." Mormont waved it aside. He was also relieved to see the young man once again. "It's been a long day. Not surprised you missed me so much. Suppose the same goes for everyone else?"

"Why of course, Starag!" Wendel had seemingly come out of nowhere. He clapped Mormont on the shoulder. "I found myself unable to live without you!" He laughed cheerily. "And without your gold!"

Mormont had smiled at his friend. He felt much better now that he was back in familiar territory, with men he could trust. Much better than when his heart had almost been torn from his chest merely hours ago. "Yes, well… I assure you that you'll have many more chances to rob me of my fortune, Wendel."

Thankfully, it seemed that their warm laughs and smiles had soon infected the rest of the crew, who had begun cracking grins and sharing light conversation. Though they were still aware of their location, they'd manage to be more laid back. Even if it only lasted a few more minutes, Mormont was thankful for the reprieve.

If they survived and made it back to Westeros, Mormont didn't particularly care which man belonged to his household guard, or if they were a Manderly or wildling. He'd set them all up for life. Enough gold to grow fat and old. He'd even knight them if they so asked.

Knights of House Mormont… He snickered to himself. That would certainly earn him the ire of the Faith of the Seven. And it was something he was already itching to do if he ever got out of this alive.

He'd soon retired to his cabin, ordering the others to come along with him. It was time to put together a plan.

In short order, Arthur, Wendel, Sigmund, Marwyn, and Jon had entered the room. Mormont had sat at the small table, though he only leaned back in his chair. The others had taken various positions around the room. Marwyn and Wendel filled the other chairs, while Jon had sat by the lone cot. Arthur and Sigmund had elected to stand.

"No doubt, you're wondering what we found." Mormont began as he took his pipe from his coat pocket. "Well…" He told them everything. From the moment they'd entered the dead city, all the way to the fortress-estate that rested in the southern quarter. He told them about the monsters, and about what they found in the spire.

"So…" Marwyn started. He awkwardly looked at the blotchy red marks on Mormont's chest. "I can assume those came from this… demon?"

"Yes," Mormont said. He'd struck a match and lit up his pipe. Then he'd shaken out the match and left it smoking on the table. "Bloody abomination nearly got me. Thankfully, Arthur was faster."

The Sword of the Morning gave him a firm nod.

"And what about this book that you found? And this dagger? The one with the strange glyphs as you said." Marwyn asked.

Sigmund had slung his pack from his shoulders. He opened it and took out the large tome and the knife wrapped in thick cloth. It had already cut through the material, though.

The wildling lay both items in front of the Archmaester, whose curiosity had suddenly become that of a child's. He stared at the book with such reverence that even a holy man would be disturbed by it. "Extraordinary…" He muttered, astounded.

"We thought you'd be able to make sense of it," Mormont said. He pointed the end of his pipe at the book. "It's all in High Valyrian."

If Marwyn had heard him, he didn't show it. The Mage soon locked eyes with the dagger and picked it up gently by the handle. He inspected the smoky black blade and the carved glyphs and runes along it. "There are materials speaking of another variant of High Valyrian. One used primarily to put enchantments on items or even people. I suppose… This might be it."

He put the knife down just as gently as he'd picked it up. With the same care as a collector upon picking up a prized piece of art. Marwyn then cracked open the book, his hand sliding along the cover. He began reading. "It's… A biography."

Seriously? Mormont had let out a billowing fume of smoke from his mouth.

"About who?" Arthur had asked.

Marwyn narrowed his eyes at the page. He flipped through more of the tome before he finally had an answer. "Not a who, but them." He said. "It's the total history of a family line of ancient Dragonlords. The… Solaerys family. According to this, they were one of the oldest and most powerful Houses in Valyria." Marwyn said. He was frowning now as he inspected the outside dimensions of the book. "This book is deceptively long… Like…" He widened his eyebrows in contemplation. "Like it's longer once one opens it."

Mormont couldn't afford to dish out more surprise on the account of a book. He'd seen too much of the impossible in one day. If the book was magically enchanted, then so be it. "Does it say anything about the knife?"

The Archmaester gave him a grateful nod and continued flipping through the pages. Eventually, after a few minutes, he'd gotten all the way to the end. "Ah, yes. Right here is the final entry written by Lord Vhakaron Solaerys." Marwyn inched closer as he traced his finger along the lines of foreign words. Then, the Mage had instantly become utterly fascinated. "He says; 'We have heard nothing since the Flames erupted. There had been screams, but they soon ceased. Vekara believes that the people have been turned to stone by the ash. I believe her. I pray that Vhagon and Valera are safe, but I also feel that they have perished.'"

Everyone else in the room had inched slightly closer as Marwyn read the journal entry aloud. So a Dragonlord had survived the Doom… He was stuck in his own house while the world came to an end…

Marwyn continued. "The fates of our children are unknown, and it has taken its toll on Vekara. She retreats further into her studies. She believes she can find out the truth about the eruptions, and potentially find a way for us to leave this place. I do not know if that is possible, however…" He paused briefly as he turned the next page. "It is almost comedic in a way. Aenar had warned me that this very omen was to pass… I called him a fool then, and yet, here I am… A simpleton who would not listen to his closest friend. It was stupid of me to not see what he was trying to save us from. But now it does not matter. I have more than paid the price for it."

"Regardless, I have decided that I will mount a search for Vhagon and Valera. They are smart ones; just like their mother, and probably more stubborn that their halfwit of a father. I will take Wyrkris and we will find them. The old boy can still fly after all." Marwyn flipped to the last page. "Valera, Vhagon. If you two are reading this, then you have made it home. Our entrance may look a little different this time around. It was your mother's creation. She said that all you need to do is to "activate the seal" on the dragonglass hand and you may be let inside. Though it may require a small blood sacrifice on your part, it is for the protection of the family. Now. It is time I ride." He'd finished, sitting back in his chair.

It was safe to assume that Lord Vhakaron had not found his children. More likely that his son and daughter were one of the many hundreds of thousands of ash statues dotted throughout the city streets.

"Did he…" Jon had spoken up then. Everyone glanced at him. "Did he say Aenar?"

Aenar… Mormont had racked his mind at the mention of the name. Wasn't that the name of some Targaryen lordling who lived some odd hundred years or so ago? Mormont didn't care much for history when it wasn't really all that relevant to him. At least, the name hadn't been important to him before, but now? Perhaps he'd reconsider his stance on Targaryen lineages.

"He did." Marwyn saw what Jon was getting at. The older man flipped back through the final few pages. "Aenar Targaryen was the only Dragonlord in Valyria to leave before the Doom had struck." He recounted stray facts from a history book. "And according to this…" He trailed off, almost stuffing his nose into the damn bindings. "He was also a close friend and confidant of Vhakaron Solaerys. Even married the man's youngest sister, Vhakyra- Keep in mind that's a pretty serious boon. To be married into a family of much higher standing, especially for the Dragonlords."

"And does it say how to activate this seal? How to get inside?" Arthur had asked. "I assume it's got something to do with family blood."

The Archmaester shrugged. "It's possible." He looked to Starag. "You said you tried it yourself, but you aren't descended from the Solaerys line. It makes sense why the door wouldn't open for you."

"What about me?" Jon asked. "You said that Aenar Targaryen had married the younger sister of Lord Vhakaron. Is it possible that…"

Arthur nodded along. "That you might be able to activate the seal." He began pacing the room. "Supposing that Vhakyra Solaerys was the mother of Gaemon Targaryen and Daenys the Dreamer…" He shot his eyes directly at Starag. "It might just work. We'd be able to breach the spire."

Mormont sucked on his pipe, letting out some more smoke from his mouth and nostrils. It was inevitable bringing Jon along with them. Mormont supposed they'd just have to keep a close eye on him.

It was another gamble altogether. They hadn't brought along any history books, and none of them knew who exactly was the wife of some lord who had lived hundreds of years ago.

Then again, there wasn't really much of a risk. If they did reach the spire, then they'd either receive entry, or they wouldn't.

He soon realized that all eyes were on him. Each pair expecting him to make the final decision. Whether or not they'd choose to breach this lonely spire, or to take the risk of going after another one. They'd likely be exposed to more monsters, more demons that wanted to tear them apart.

Starag Mormont had reached up with a dead steady hand and withdrew the pipe from his mouth.

"We make for the spire in two days."

They spent the next day recovering and planning for their raid on the fortress.

This time, Mormont would take a team of twenty-five men. Along with Arthur, Jon, Marwyn, and Wendel. Sigmund was to stay in command of the Waking Serpent, though he had expressed his interest in coming, he was more than happy to stay on the ship. Besides, in the absolute worst-case scenario, they'd need a quick escape, and having someone standing ready on the ship would be more than useful.

For the most part, if they did find anything within the spire, they'd have to bring back what they could carry. After all, they hadn't brought horses along for obvious reasons.

On their fourth day in Valyria, Mormont's crew had set out around dawn. It would be a few hours before they reached the spire, and since there were more men coming along, they'd be moving much slower. That, and there was still the ever-present threat of the monsters that roamed the city.

Keeping it simple, Mormont had taken the same route that they'd used last time. Despite their slower pace, they managed to avoid any distasteful creatures in the dead city. Soon enough, they'd passed by the titanic dragon skeleton and were at the doorstep of the great tower fortress.

The demon wasn't there to greet them. Something which Mormont was thankful for. He'd wasted no time getting the gate open while the rest of his men shuffled inside.

"How is it powered?" Marwyn seemed to ask nobody in particular as he stared up at the Valyrian Steel gate. "Has to be magic. There's no way they could open the gate simply by flicking a switch, especially without some kind of pulley or mechanism nearby."

Nobody else had commented. They simply made their way inside the estate. Mormont had picked up the iron torch where he'd left it, relighting it this time with some driftwood he'd found on the beach near the Serpent.

He ordered Wendel to stay with a small contingent of men to keep watch of the gate. They were to retreat inside if any monsters had gotten curious about the smell, and were somehow able to climb over the dragonstone walls.

Once they were inside, Mormont had shown Jon and Marwyn the dragonglass hand. The latter had almost begun drooling over the strange mechanism. "It must be some kind of magical device. An enchantment of some sorts." The Archmaester had looked at Jon. "Here, place your hand in this mold. See if it does anything."

Reluctantly, Jon stepped forward and leaned down as he fitted his left hand into the glass palm.

Almost immediately, the ten crimson brimstone pillars had begun glowing vibrantly. The dragonglass hand had lit up into a starry eclipse of red, orange, and yellow. So they were right. With dragonsblood, the blood of the Solaerys family, they could enter the spire.

Marwyn had given Jon the knife with the strange glyphs, and the young man had let out a sharp breath before he made a quick cut across his open left palm. He then winced as he placed his hand back on the pedestal.

In response to the blood sacrifice, the pillars of brimstone glowed brightly, each of them shimmering with a deep orange aura that lit up the entire room. With a rhythmic shake, they began to descend to the floor. Meanwhile, the cylindrical stone wall had begun to slide open to the left in a sort of semi-circle, soon revealing the inky darkness that awaited them on the other side.

And yet, once the wall was halfway open, lights had suddenly flickered on from within the citadel of black stone. Braziers had lit with flame almost in an instant, illuminating the grand hall before them with a hard orange glare.

It seemed as if the spire had more or less come to life upon the arrival of Jon. Like how a dog would get excited once its owner had finally come home.

Before them lay the grand hall that once belonged to the Solaerys family. It was a long and wide corridor of black stone and obsidian. With a blood-red carpet lining the floor, leading up to a few more steps of black stone and finally, a large throne made of dragonglass.

There were pillars on either side of the hall, and there also seemed to be a branching passage on either side of the hall itself. The one on the left side was filled with rubble. It had collapsed long ago.

But it was the passage on the right side which was clear. It was a short little hallway, about ten feet into the stone. There was a faint glow coming from a small portion of the floor.

"Spread out. Check for any creatures." He ordered the rest of the men. They obeyed and began to fan out across the rest of the hall.

Mormont approached the right passageway, having drawn Longclaw for extra measure. But he soon found that his anticipation wasn't needed. It was an empty crevice, save for the glowing tile on the floor.

It was a large square platform about thirty inches long on all sides. It was a dark maroon red, save for the gleaming white sun that looked almost like a crystal in the darkness of the grand hall.

"Marwyn." He waved over the Archmaester. The older man had come forward, along with Jon. "What's this?"

Marwyn had stepped forward, and after a few moments, he shrugged. "I know about as much as you do." He nearly gripped his goatee in contemplation. Then, the man's brown eyes looked at Jon. "Try walking onto it. Doesn't seem like it's meant to be touched by hand."

Jon had looked from Marwyn to Mormont, his eyes were asking him for permission. Mormont nodded to the pad. If the spire had warmed to the young man, he doubted some tile on the floor would do him any harm.

His reservations had immediately spiked when he saw Jon reluctantly walk onto the glowing platform and instantly disappear right before their eyes. Fuck! Where had he gone?

Just as Mormont went to step closer to the plate, Jon had reappeared just as soon as he'd vanished. He smiled broadly now, his grey eyes had flashed violet in the dim light. "There's another floor!" Before Mormont could say anything, Jon had walked backward and disappeared once again.

So what was this platform? Some kind of device that transported them across distances in the blink of an eye? There was only one way to find out.

Mormont had taken along ten other men with him just in case. He'd left Arthur in charge of the others while they secured the grand hall. Leaving no further delays, he stepped forward onto the glowing platform.

Almost immediately, his perception of the world around him had bent and folded upon itself many times over. The next thing Mormont knew, he was rolling along the black stone floor, feeling rather queasy in his gut.

He glanced up and soon noticed the change in his immediate surroundings. He was no longer inside the grand hall anymore. Now he was inside a much smaller room which forked into two different hallways to the left and the right. Jon was standing just a few feet away and had made to help him stand up.

Once on his feet, Mormont noticed the glowing yellow crystal lights that had shone from the high ceiling. They were much less fancy-looking than typical chandeliers, but quite probably far more advanced.

"Full of tricks, weren't they?" He'd asked nobody in particular. Though he hadn't failed to notice Jon's grin. He was enjoying himself far more now, especially as it seemed he was in control of this hallowed spire.

Soon enough, Marwyn and the ten men-at-arms had soon come behind him. They all had various reactions to the glowing pad on the floor, and the instant transportation it had caused. The Archmaester had nearly hurled up his guts once he came through, though he'd said he'd be fine after a few moments. Even if his grizzled face had turned milk-white.

Once everyone had recovered, they were now faced with the current dilemma on their hands. Left or right.

"Flip a coin?" Mormont had asked Jon. The boy laughed and nodded his head.

He picked out a gold dragon from his pocket. "Heads for left. Tails for right."

The golden coin had dinged off the sharp nail on his thumb. It sailed upwards into the air and spun like a spinning dart of shining yellow. Finally, he caught it and planted it firmly on the back of his hand.

The minted golden head of Jaehaerys I had stared back at him. They'd take the left hallway.

"Be on guard," Mormont told them all. He drew Longclaw and stepped towards the dark hallways to the left side of the entry room.

He was not as surprised when the hall had lit up the moment he'd set foot in it. Empty torch sconces had blazed to life, and there was a shimmering yellow line that emitted a bright glow into the long stretch of the hall.

It was about twenty feet long, and there looked to be another left turn about halfway through. At the end of the narrow corridor was a large door comprised of Valyrian Steel.

He made it to the Valyrian Steel door. Thankfully, it was unlocked. He pushed it open slowly, allowing the room to light up inside.

The moment it did, Mormont had grinned. He knew precisely what was being kept in here, even underneath all the dust and cobwebs. It was an armory, more specifically, the personal armory of Lord Vhakaron Solaerys.

Inside, there were plenty of weapon racks that held gleaming longswords and falchions. Stone statues stood holding spears and massive shields. There were three different armor stands in the wide room, though one of them was empty. But the other two…

"By the powers that be…" Marwyn had muttered in exasperation as he looked at the armor stands. "Are those…"

"Valyrian Steel." Mormont knew instantly. Two sets of Valyrian Steel plate armor. One of them was clearly meant for a woman, as the sizes of the links and plates were much smaller and more slender. The other set was designed for a man.

Valyrian Steel, even before the Doom, was still, by and large, a very rare and quite valuable resource. With the end of Valyria, however, it had become much more scarce. Its value tripled instantly. It was not surprising to find out that a prominent and well-established nobleman like Vhakaron Solaerys had more than enough resources to craft himself not one, but two sets of Valyrian Steel armor. It would've cost a kingdom to acquire even just one of them.

Mormont turned to one of the men standing by the door. "Run back to Arthur. Tell him we found an armory." He glanced over at the rest of the men. "Take as much as you can carry. I want the armor disassembled and packed first. As for the weapons… Feel free to take your own share."

They all grinned at him with knowing eyes. Now it was time to reap the rewards of their travels. Without a doubt, the North would soon be the richest of the Seven Kingdoms, and not just in gold…

There were probably enough weapons in that room for just over fifty men. Not exactly a winning edge over the Others, but it was definitely a massive improvement from before. It only made Mormont wonder what other secrets and treasures they could find in this place.

From the first moment he'd stepped foot inside the spire, Jon Stark had struggled to speak.

He'd mostly kept silent as they continued exploring the dragonstone hallways and corridors. It felt to him like the spire itself was alive, that it was its own entity, one bound to serve him and him alone.

Even stranger, Jon knew that the spire wanted to serve him. He couldn't describe the feeling of excitement that had invaded his senses the moment he'd put his bleeding palm against the dragonglass hand. This place was alive in one way or another, and it hadn't even put Jon off, for whatever reason.

So, he'd mostly resolved to keep his mouth shut about the whole matter. Somehow, he knew that his uncle wouldn't understand it. Neither would Marwyn or any of the soldiers. He'd just sound mad if he spoke of it.

He'd begun to hear voices calling to him the moment he stepped onto that strange platform, too. And as they continued walking down the black and red hallways, the voices grew louder. It was difficult to make out what exactly they were saying, or what they were leading him to.

Jon did not feel fear. The spire told him that there had been no intruders, and it was beckoning him to take what he needed from it. Almost like an aunt who you might occasionally visit, both to see her and to stock up on supplies for the next journey on the road.

It was a warm feeling he'd felt in his gut. He was home.

They'd found their way to the Lord's Chambers. The voices had gotten the loudest here. The source of them was only just… twenty-three feet away.

There was a large bed of silken sheets, covered in a light layer of dust. On the other side of the rectangular room, there was a large door made of ebony. Jon knew that the source of the voices was just on the other side.

While his uncle had been inspecting the massive ebony desk with Marwyn, Jon felt the pull intensify within him. He stepped closer to the blue-black door. The Spire was telling him to open it.

We are here. The voices had suddenly become vivid. He could hear them clearly. We have always been here. Waiting for you. Free us, Father. Free us.

Jon pulled open the door. The dark room on the other side had shuddered to life.

It was a nursery. Or at least the skeletal remains of one. There were multiple cribs made of ebony wood that still stood even now. By the other side of the room, there was a rocking chair. And on it was…

A corpse. A skeleton. It used to belong to a woman.

Wisps of ash-white hair still flowed from the near skinless scalp. Her body still slowly rocked back and forth in the chair as if she were still living. In her bony arms was another corpse, that of an infant.

Half of Jon was mesmerized at the sight. Horrified at the implications of what it meant. The other half of him was staring at the two large, scaly oval stones laying by the woman's feet.

Dragon eggs. He knew what they were right away. One of them was snow-white with sapphire blue markings, patterns that were reminiscent of the crashing waves that came from with stormy ocean. The other egg was a metallic bronze, with golden-green spirals across it. Almost like elder summer leaves brushing against the wind.

The voices cried out to him. Take us away, Father! They cried simultaneously. A boy and a girl. Two trapped dragons. Almost like himself and Rhaenys…

"Jon."

He swiveled his head to face his uncle, who was staring curiously at him from the doorway. Jon nearly did a once-over as he realized that he'd been walking steadily towards the eggs that lay on the floor not five feet away from him.

He finally noticed a leather-bound book waiting on the dead woman's lap as well. Though before he could pick it up, Marwyn had appeared at his side and taken it gently off the lifeless body.

Jon didn't look at the Archmaester as he began flipping through the pages of the diary. He only crouched down and touched the white egg with his left hand. It hummed upon feeling his touch. It was warm.

He stroked it with a calm hand as if he were petting Ghost. He had not realized that he was rubbing it with the still fresh blood from the cut he'd made on his palm. The egg had vibrated excitedly at that. Wordlessly, he did the same with the bronze egg, carefully patting it with his open red palm. The bronze sheen had been stained with crimson, and it seemed to love it.

He'd come back to the present when he heard Marwyn's voice behind him. "-Some kind of personal journal of Vekara Solaerys." He said with a frown, though his voice betrayed his fascination. "There's a tremendous amount of research in here…" He trailed off, flipping the book towards the final few pages. He stopped as he stared more closely at the words on the page. "This is the final entry..." He inhaled sharply as he began to speak. "Vhakaron has left. He went to find our children, but I do not know when he will return. Or if he will return at all. I want to believe that he will, but… I have a feeling that he too is now dead."

The Archmaester continued. "It would be lesser-minded to think that we have been punished for our sins, for all of the things we have done to our fellow humans… But I know better. We were punished for the greatest sin of all…" The room had suddenly grown cold as Marwyn echoed the dead woman's words. "This Doom cast upon us was not the result of the many gods we gave praise to, it was handed to us by the one who we had long forgotten to fear. We did not keep our end of the bargain, and for that, we were cast down. How else would a simple group of sheepherders one day become the most powerful Empire known to man? How else if not for divine intervention? We were children who had become too accustomed to the toys we were given. We forgot the generous hand of our parents, the moment we became brash and ungrateful… He came to take everything away from us.

"I do not know what exactly He is, but I do know that He likely resides someplace beneath the earth. Or perhaps someplace beyond it, in the stars above the ash-filled sky. The eruption was His work. The price exacted on us for not paying our dues." Marwyn read solemnly. Even Jon could feel the fear creeping into the Archmaester's voice. "I will die in these halls. As my little Vhagar already has. He would never live a life beyond these stone walls, he would never see the sun blaze in the sky, or live to ride the back of a dragon. I had to put him to sleep just one last time. Soon enough, I will follow."

The last few words of the journal would forever be burned into Jon's mind.

"What have we done?"

They had packed up the dragon eggs rather quickly. The sooner they had left the accursed nursery, the better.

Vekara Solaerys had apparently been the magician of the household. She'd been a consummate practitioner of blood magic. And she'd also spoken of several exceedingly rare books that taught one how exactly to use it.

Books that rested inside the library of the stone fortress.

After a quick raid, Marwyn had been incredibly torn that they wouldn't be able to take the whole library with them. It was doubtful that any of these rare books and scrolls had any spare copies laying around. Still, Mormont knew the Archmaester was a happy man as he stuffed his large backpack full of dusty old tomes.

Mormont, however, didn't want to waste any more time than necessary. It was likely getting darker outside, and he didn't want to be roaming the city at nighttime, not with all those dangerous monsters lurking about.

Therefore, he'd decided to send Arthur and Wendel on ahead with fifteen of the men. They would be able to move faster in a much smaller force, and their packs were already loaded with the loot they'd taken from the armory. They'd probably make it back to the Serpent in an hour or two if all went well.

Mormont's own party; consisting of Jon, Marwyn, and the other ten men-at-arms would likely take a little bit under an hour if nothing came into their path.

It had probably been two hours by the time Mormont's party was getting finished up. Marwyn had dressed Jon's cut on his palm now that the young man was satisfied with the blood smears on the dragon eggs. That, Mormont couldn't really explain, and neither could he fathom it.

There was some kind of… connection between Jon and those eggs. It was strange, but it could also be chalked up to the dragonblood in his veins.

Could it… He wondered almost madly. Those eggs had been sitting there since before the Doom had struck. Was it possible that whatever lay inside those scaly oval shells was still alive?

No. It was a preposterous thought. It had been too bloody long. At best, the damn stones would be ornaments that they could show off once they got back home. Nothing more.

And yet… There was the slightest bit of doubt hiding in the back of his mind. Jon was one of the last living heirs of the Solaerys family, a branch that the Targaryens had married into. Perhaps… perhaps there was something to it…

"You go on ahead," Marwyn said as he combed through the rest of the books piled in front of him. "I'll catch up with you."

Mormont only raised an eyebrow. He didn't doubt the older man's fighting ability. He'd dealt with the pirates at the Stepstones well enough. Demons and monsters were something else entirely. "Fine. You've got ten minutes. We'll be waiting outside."

"That's more than enough time!" Marwyn had a greedy look in his eyes as he continued rummaging through his stack of books. Mormont left him there and made for the teleportation pad.

Damn Maesters and their books. He shook his head with a reluctant grin. Mormont had only taken a few books from the library, though they were more so for Rhaenys than for him. She was a total bookworm, a nerd through and through. Her prudence when it came to reading was a trait that he rather loved. He simply knew he'd have to bring back a few souvenirs for her specifically.

How had his family been holding up in his absence? What were they getting up to? Mormont had found himself truly feeling warm inside at the thought of his wife and children. I'll have to spoil them all once we get back…

Mormont had pushed aside those rumbling thoughts as he, Jon, and the men had made their way outside. The sky was a bright red, with brown-grey clouds rolling above them. A storm was coming. A bad one.

Did it ever rain in Valyria? Or was it ash that would fall from the sky? Would it be like a light snowfall? Or would it be akin to an avalanche? Mormont knew nothing in regards to the weather. He'd only been there for four days.

As they approached the Valyrian Steel gate, Mormont was slightly surprised to already find it open. Perhaps Arthur ordered it to be left like that, but then again, the gate had come in incredibly handy the last time they were here.

Mormont shrugged it aside. He'd be sleeping soon enough. Back in a comfortable bed. Eating a good portion of-

There was a sharp wind that hissed past his ears. Just behind him, he heard the thud of steel entering flesh. He turned around and saw one of his men groping at an arrow that protruded from his chest.

Longclaw was immediately in his hand, but he couldn't stop the next volley of arrows from hissing by his head and shoulders, knocking down the men-at-arms who had followed him only seconds before.

Soon enough, Mormont realized that the only two members of his group left standing were himself and Jon. The young man seemed just as paralyzed, if not more.

But even as they both stood with swords drawn, the arrows had ceased. Coming out of the passage that led deeper into the wall, as well as behind it, were men of all shapes and sizes carrying massive longbows. They were aimed dead steady at Mormont.

As they were soon surrounded by the swarm of archers, Mormont soon realized that none of them had spoken a single word. One man- a tall and bulky Summer Islander- had pointed his bow at Mormont's sword, and then down at the ground.

Mormont got the message. He let Longclaw drop to the ground. They were being spared. Though for what reason, he didn't know why.

He kept his eye on the Summer Islander, but he spoke to Jon. "Drop the sword, lad. They aren't going to kill us." Yet.

"But-"

Mormont had cut the young man off with a sharp glare. Enough men had already died moments earlier. He wasn't about to lose Jon, too. Thankfully, Jon had followed his order and dropped his bastard sword onto the ground.

Two of the archers had quickly slung up their bows on their shoulders and picked up both Longclaw and Wolf Queen. The Summer Islander gestured to the others to search for the dead. It had taken them minutes to scavenge the loot that Mormont's men had found in the spire. He knew instantly that these men were professionals. Not at all like the blundering pirates they'd fought only weeks ago.

"What do you want with us?" Mormont asked the Summer Islander.

The tall man with smoky skin had only acknowledged him with a thin smile. He didn't answer.

"Who are you working for?" Mormont tried again, more forcefully this time.

Again, no answer came from the Summer Islander. This time, he looked away from Mormont. As if he were dealing with a small-time pest not worthy of his full attention.

Mormont said nothing as he scanned the dead men who had once been in his employ. A surge of anger had swelled within him. More men had died needlessly. Because of him. More blood on his hands that he would be unable to wash away.

Wait… Marwyn wasn't among the dead. Mormont kept his expression ice-cold as he briefly glanced back towards the front entrance of the keep that led towards the reception room. Just barely, he saw the older man's grizzled face peek out from around the corner and then duck back behind the dragonstone walls.

A wellspring of hope had surged. If the old man was still alive, then there was still the hope that he could get to Arthur and warn him about what had happened. In that case, wherever they would be taken, Mormont would just have to play for time.

The silent men had taken the rest of their weapons, and finally, had ushered both Mormont and Jon outside of the gate.

"Uncle," Jon had asked warily. He also kept his face an icy mask, reminiscent of Ned's stern glare as Lord of Winterfell. He was keeping his wits about him. That was good. "Where are they taking us?"

"I don't know," Mormont whispered back. He inched himself closer to the young man. "Wherever it is, let me do the talking. We don't know if they found Arthur or the others."

Jon hadn't looked at him, but he nodded with a determined look. They hadn't come all this way just to be stopped by some mute fools.

Mutes… Mormont had thought to himself. Oh no… He remembered the so-called rumors he'd heard back in Braavos. An Ironborn ship crewed by mutes. With a captain as mad as the Targaryen Kings of old.

Mormont felt the pit in his stomach drop to an all-time low as they marched throughout the ruined streets of the city, heading towards the center of Valyria itself; The Flaming River.

It was a narrow inlet that had carved its way through to the middle of the peninsula all the way down from the southern coastline. Marwyn had told him that orange firewyrms could be spotted between the cracks in the black rock back before the Doom.

The silent crew of men, led by the Summer Islander, soon took them to the rocky shore of the Flaming River. The whole time, Mormont could feel the steel-tipped arrows of the archers trained precisely on his back. Only one step out of line, and that would be that.

Mormont could feel the heat growing in the air. It had grown progressively hotter and hotter as they neared the largest volcano in the chain of the Fourteen Flames. It wasn't much longer before he saw the answer to everything. He knew that they were in the worst possible scenario.

Docked towards the base of the volcano was a large galley. With a blood-red painted hull, and a single mast. On the wide black square sail was the shimmering golden Kraken of House Greyjoy.

Shit. This was bad. Everything had quickly turned to ashes in his hands. Every plan was expected to go wrong at some point, but this took the cake. His prior concerns at this expedition being too easy had suddenly been confirmed with a fiery righteousness that would make even the most devout Septa blush.

The Summer Islander led them closer to the ship. Mormont analyzed his options. There was little he and Jon could do. Not with those arrows trained at his back. Could he force a confrontation and give Jon time to get away? No. These men were too well trained to let something like that happen. Besides, it seemed they also wanted Jon alive for some reason.

Though for what that reason was, the mere uncertainty of it had made Mormont's skin crawl.

Mormont got a better look at the prow of the galley. A maiden made of pure black iron was stretching upwards, lifting her arms into the air. She had long legs, a slender waist, and high breasts. Were she a real woman, her figure alone would've made most men decide to give up their wives.

It was the iron maiden's head that was rather off-putting. She had no mouth. Neither lips nor tongue to speak of. As if it had been carved violently out. The sight of it had not eased the tension in his gut.

They arrived at the long wooden board that bridged the gap between the glassy sharp edge of dragonglass and the wooden deck of the galley. The Summer Islander had wordlessly nodded for both Mormont and Jon to cross it. They did, just as silent as the men who had captured them.

Quickly, they were taken towards the middle of the deck, facing away from the single mast of pinewood and facing directly at the twin staircases and the large cabin that lay between them.

"Uncle," Jon asked in a whisper. "What are the Greyjoys doing in Valyria?"

Mormont was about to open his mouth to give his best answer when another voice had spoken up.

"Good afternoon, Lord Mormont!" The deep, rich voice had greeted him warmly. Mormont slowly turned his head in the direction of its owner. Up by the helm of the ship, Mormont had seen a tall, handsome-looking man. His right eye was summer blue, while the other was covered with an inky black eyepatch.

As Mormont inspected the man more closely, he realized that there was hard cruelty in that summer blue eye. He had a fine, trimmed beard and a hard jawline. That, and his lips were blue, as if he'd been swimming in the water too long, or he'd been out in the cold too much.

He wore a long black leather coat. And underneath it was a shimmering smoky breastplate of Valyrian Steel. The implication of the exceedingly rare armor was not lost on Mormont. They'd been here much longer than we have…

Euron Greyjoy walked around the wooden railing of his upper deck and slowly began to walk down the stairs towards them. In his hand was a glass goblet. There was a thick, viscous blue liquid inside it that sloshed back and forth with each step he took. "The fly has been a long time coming to the spider." He said as he took his final step onto the main deck. Mormont felt a chill run up his spine as he saw a smile slowly spread across the other man's face.

"Or should I say; the Bear to the Kraken."