Back on a four-week schedule for this release…let's hope I can keep this momentum going! I'm hopeful that everyone gets the message that this story had been updated…personally I haven't been getting any notifications from FFnet for over a week now.
Shout out to my beta reader and brainstorm partner Tellemicus Sundace. The help has been invaluable so far. And another huge thank you to everyone who has favorited, alerted or reviewed this story so far. Your support is what keeps me going If you have any direct questions you want to ask me, please PM me as I am not the greatest in responding directly to reviews, but please still review lol. I like hearing from all of you!
Lastly, I do not own Disney, nor am I Lucas or Martin; so I have no ownership of A Song of Fire and Ice, Game of Thrones or Star Wars. This is purely for fun with no profit being made. And with that out of the way, let's get to the chapter! Stay safe out there everyone!
Chapter 24
The roar of the crowd in the training yard of Winterfell was almost deafening as Nox and seemingly all of Winterfell watched the spectacle unfolding before them. "Come on, southern boy," Osha laughed, her spear resting on her shoulder and a small trickle of blood running down from the corner of her mouth. "If this is the best you can do, then I'll be tempted to put ya in a dress and take ya to one of these dances you southern boys are all up about. But don't worry, I won't let your precious virtue be tarnished, even though I think ya'd look quite fetching all dolled up."
Directly across from her was her opponent, Garlen Tyrell, who was currently down on one knee gasping for breath while trying to recover from the vicious blow he'd just taken to his balls, courtesy of Osha's spear. Burying the tip of his tourney blade into the ground, the knight from House Tyrell used his sword as a crutch to help him rise to unsteady feet before taking his stance once more. "I – can…do this all day…woman."
"Alim," Nyra whispered to him from where she was standing beside him just on the outskirts of the sparring ring. "Should we not put a stop to this? They both look like they're about to fall over. Or kill one another."
"No need to fret, my dear sweet Northern rose," Prince Oberyn commented, drawing a slight blush from Nyra as the Prince glanced her way while his paramour gave a wink towards Nyra as well. True to his word, the Prince of Dorne and his paramour, despite only having been in the Winterfell for a few days, had been relentless in their pursuit of not only Nox, but of Nyra as well. And while his wife had adjusted to the life of a noble reasonably well, the fact that the Prince of Dorne was pursuing her was something that she had clearly never expected to experience in her life. He could sense from Nyra that while the advances from the Prince were not necessarily unwelcome, she wasn't all that comfortable with them. Especially not with the trauma that she'd endured barely a year past. "This is merely just a friendly little competition between two very skilled individuals. I wouldn't mind testing my own spear against either of these two…after they've recovered of course."
This 'friendly little competition' as Oberyn had put it, had been going on for the better part of two hours. It'd all started when Osha had stormed into the yard with a blushing Sansa right behind her and marched right up to Willas Tyrell and demanded a fight against him. Willas, obviously completely caught unaware by the sudden demand, asked to know what he'd done to garner such hostility from her. Osha's answer had been…blunt, to say the least. She said, loudly enough for everyone to hear, that if Willas intended to steal Sansa Stark, her charge, then she was going to make sure that Willas was a man worthy of her.
Garlan had quickly come to his brother's side, even if he didn't understand what was going on, he could clearly see that Osha intended harm upon his brother. Garlan pointed out that his brother was still freshly healed and was not ready to fully spar in the ring just yet. He then added that, while he didn't know what was going on, if Osha really wanted to fight then he was willing to face her in his brother's place. Osha wasn't pleased, but she accepted Garlan fighting for his brother.
The yard had been quickly cleared as Osha picked up a tourney spear and Garlan was handed a tourney blade by one of the men from House Tyrell. After placing his helm on his head and securing a shield to his arm, Garlan approached Osha with his guard mostly lowered. It was a mistake that nearly cost the man his head as Osha had capitalized on his lack of guard by striking him with the blunted end of her spear against the side of his head with enough force to break the shaft of the spear and uproot Garlan, sending him into a heap on the ground. "We fight to ten kills." Osha called out, tossing aside her broken spear and collecting another as Garlan struggled to right himself. "That is already one for me, southern boy. Do at least try and keep this entertaining for me."
It took Osha earning another four 'kills' before Garlan started to take the fight seriously. And by then the two had drawn a significant crowd which included all the members of the visiting Houses and their entourages, plus Ned and the rest of the Stark children as well. Once Garlan started to finally take the fight seriously, he was able to garner four kills of his own, but in that time, Osha managed to acquire another two, leaving her with a six to four lead over the knight. The next two kills went to Garlan, tying the two at six a piece. And by then, seemingly all of Winterfell had descended upon the sparring ring to watch the spectacle as shouts of encouragement, taunts and more than a few coins started being tossed about.
By the time the two were tied at eight kills each, Garlan finally managed to get his first lead as Osha's exhaustion made her slip and lower her guard. A mistake Garlan capitalized on slashing across her leather padded chest and shoulder and knocking her to the ground in a killing blow. Unfortunately for Garlan, his blow had dislodged the shoulder strap that was holding Osha's chest armor in place, and the former wildling had taken advantage of the situation by grabbing her armor and exposing herself to Garlan. It was only for a split second, but the sight of her naked tit hanging out in the air caused Garlan to freeze, which gave Osha more than enough time to jab the butt of her spear right into Garlan's balls before jerking the spear up and catching him under the chin, earning her own kill and tying them once again at nine kills each.
"That," Garlan coughed while finally managing to right himself through the pain. "…was a cheap shot."
"That's…the difference between fighting…and sparring," Osha panted as elation from a good fight poured off her through the Force. "You're…sparring. I'm…fighting. When you fight…there are…no rules. You win…or die. That is…the way of the true North. The way…of…winter."
Readying themselves, the two began hacking at one another, exhaustion having taken its toll to the point where neither was moving with any real skill and were instead just putting whatever strength they had behind each of their attacks as they tried to overpower one another. Osha made the first mistake as she overextended a lunge, giving Garlan the opportunity to sidestep and bring his sword down on the shaft of the spear, knocking it out of her hands. But Osha did not give up. Instead of trying to reclaim her spear, the former wildling woman charged at Garlan with nothing more than her fists. Her action gave her the element of surprise and allowed her to disarm Garlan after placing two well aimed punches; one to his shoulder and the other to the wrist of his sword hand. With the two now disarmed, the two started in on one another with nothing more than their fists as the two went past the point of a spar and started all out brawling with one another. Garlan had the edge with his strength as each punch he managed to land staggered Osha. But while Osha did not have her opponent's strength, she was far quicker than him. And for each punch Garlan managed to land on her person, she reciprocated with two or three of her own.
"Well," Oberyn sighed, seemingly amazed at what he was about to say. "I never thought I would tire of watching a good fight…but this is actually starting to get boring."
In the center of the sparring ring, Osha and Garlan were both using the other for support with one hand while the other continued trying to rain blows down on their opponent. "Fucking…southern…shit…" Osha gasped, blood running down from her mouth as bruises started forming on her face. "Why…won't…you go…the fu – fuck…down?!"
Gasping, Garlan spat out a wad of blood. "Same…to you…bitch…"
With one last yell, both Garland and Osha pulled their fists back and put everything they had into one last attack. Osha's fist connected squarely on Garlan's temple, just as Garlan's fist connected with Osha's jaw. And like trees in the forest, both went down at the same time.
"There," Nox chuckled, stepping away from his wife and friend as he made his way over to the two downed combatants, both of whom were out cold. Doing a quick check to make sure that both of their hearts were still beating, Nox declared an end to the match. "The match is a draw."
Groans of disappointment met Nox's announcement as coins started changing hands and the crowd began to disperse. Sansa immediately rushed to Osha's side while the Tyrells, led by Margaery as she was the first to move, went to Garlan's. Sensing amusement coming from behind him, Nox turned his attention to his wife and Oberyn. His wife's embarrassment had risen significantly while Oberyn had an air of a man who'd just gotten exactly what he wanted, a feeling that was mirrored by Ellaria. And given what he knew of Oberyn and his paramour, he had a feeling he knew what this was all about.
"So," Nox said good naturedly as he made his way back over to his now blushing wife and smirking friend. "I take it that Oberyn made a quick wager with my wife in the few seconds that it took me to check on those two? And by her expression, I'm guessing she lost. Dare I ask what the stakes were? Or do I even need to bother to ask given what I know of you, my friend?"
Oberyn's smirk grew as Nyra's blush and embarrassment intensified. "Nothing at the moment, dear Nox," Oberyn smirked, wrapping an arm around Ellaria and pulling his paramour in close. "Just an open invitation for an audience in the near future with either one pair or the other being the active while the other observers."
His wife's embarrassment increased tenfold as Nox turned his attention to her. "Well…that could be interesting. But only if or when Nyra wishes it."
"Of course," Oberyn smirked. "I have never forced any of my lovers into a situation they were not ready for. I'm not about to start now. And certainly not with the wife of my friend…who can conveniently turn me into a well-cooked meal for the beasts of the forests with but a wave of his hand."
"And don't forget it," Nox smirked, wrapping his arm around Nyra and pulling her in close.
Oberyn's smirk fell as Nox felt his gaze pass over him. "Hmm, seems that our time for enjoyment might have to be placed on hold, my friend."
Following his gaze through the Force, Nox found one of the messenger boys of Winterfell slowly making his way towards them. "Um…excuse me, milord…miladay and…um, my Prince."
"What is it?" Nox asked, turning to the boy.
"Lord Stark asks for you to attend to him and his sons, milord sorcerer. Immediately."
Scanning the yard, Nox quickly found Ned and the boys hurriedly making their way towards one of the gathering halls. There was a sense of urgency in their steps and emanating through the Force from them that made Nox frown. Something had happened. "Nyra dear," Nox said, letting his arm drop from around her shoulders. "Will you be—?"
"I'll be fine, husband," Nyra cut him off. "I can…handle the Prince and Lady Sand…though not in the way either would probably prefer. Go."
Nodding, Nox bid goodbye to Oberyn and Ellaria before kissing his wife and making his way after Ned and the boys. 'What the hell has gone wrong this time?'
Staring down at the large map that dominated most of one of the tables within the great hall, Ned was doing everything he could in his power to keep himself calm and collected as Maester Luwin pointed to where the King-Beyond-the-Wall had set for their meeting.
"Hardhome, my lord," Luwin said, pointing to a small peninsula well north of the Wall. "The only known wildling settlement, though it has been long since abandoned and thought to be haunted by many of the Night's Watch and a few of the wildlings that have spoken on the matter. It lies at the tip of Storrold's Point on the Shivering Sea. It would take many days to reach the city by land, my lord."
"Then we won't go by land," Nox cut in, leaning over the table while Robb and Jon, the only other two other occupants of the room save for Ser Rodrik. "The journey to the Wall and then through the lands beyond, it would be doable in the timetable Rayder set for the meeting, but it would be a close thing. No. We send word to White Harbor and have the Sea Wolf sail north immediately. We ride to Castle Black and then cut across to East Watch. By the time we arrive the Sea Wolf and whatever accompanying ships Lord Manderly can send should be at the docks. This will also give the Lords and Ladies of the North who wish to join us a chance to catch up. And this way we also won't be exhausted by the time we reach Hardhome, just in case Rayder's offer is in bad faith or if one of his chieftains decide to do something stupid."
"A sound plan," Ned nodded, liking the idea. Riding all the way to Hardhome would exhaust he and those who came with him. Making nearly half the trek by sea had the downside of cutting back on the number of men he could bring with him, but on the other hand he and his would be well rested just in case Rayder's offer of temporary truce to talk was in bad faith. "Luwin, send a raven to White Harbor immediately telling Lord Manderly that I want the Sea Wolf ready to sail and docked at Eastwatch within the next fortnight."
"Of course, my Lord," Maester Luwin nodded as he took a step back from the table.
"Father," Robb called out to him, rising to his feet. "Jon, Theon, and I are all coming with you and Lord Nox to speak with the King-Beyond-the-Wall."
Sighing, Ned merely nodded. "Aye, I thought you would be pressing that point. But just as when we went south, you three will heed my orders to the letter."
"Yes, father," both of his sons agreed quickly.
"Lord Stark," Ser Rodrik said, stepping forward. "I assume then that you will be making Sansa the Stark in Winterfell once more."
Nodding, Ned scratched at his beard. "Aye. She performed admirably when we were in the south. I have faith in her that she will do just as well once more."
"As you say, Lord Stark," Rodrik nodded. "But if I may, what shall we do with our…guests?"
Ned didn't bother stifling the growl that escaped him. 'I cannot just let this opportunity to talk with the King-Beyond-the-Wall pass me by. And I cannot just demand that the Lords and Ladies from three prominent houses leave the North. Yet do I dare leave Sansa alone with them? The Tyrells have more than made their intentions towards Sansa clear. What kind of advantage could they seek to press upon her without me here to block them?'
"I believe that we will be solving that issue soon enough."
Turning, Ned saw that Nox's eyeless face was turned towards the doors to the great hall. It took Ned a fair bit of effort on his part, but he was able to reach out with what power he could. And when he did, he could sense a mass of people approaching the hall. The only one of which he recognized however was Lady Olenna, and that was only because he'd had the time to get a read on her during their little chat on her first night in Winterfell when she made House Tyrell's intentions towards his daughter known. 'And if she is coming, then it is a fair bet that all of our other guests will be as well.'
"Ser Rodrik, open the door," Ned sighed, figuring that it was for the best to get this out of the way now rather than later. Ser Rodrik didn't even question as to how he and Nox knew that there were people approaching as he quickly went over and opened the door that led towards the guest quarters.
"Well," Lady Olenna said, her hand that had been raised in preparation to knock falling back down to her side as she strode past Ser Rodrik with hardly a second glance. "Your man has a good sense of timing, Lord Stark."
"I do believe that it was more that Lord Nox sensed our approach, my dear Olenna," Oberyn commented smoothly as he, along with Willas, Arianne, Tyrion and Gerion made their way past Ser Rodrik and into the hall. Garlan was notably absent from the Tyrells but given that he was more than likely still passed out alongside Osha, Ned wasn't surprised.
"I take it that word has spread fast then?" Ned questioned, not even bothering to ask about why they had all decided to call upon them at once.
"Indeed it has Stark," Oberyn smirked, his eyes flickering down to the map on the table as he walked around the room so that he could stand beside Ned. "A raven with a black seal arrives in Winterfell, the contents of which demanded the immediate attention of the Warden of the North, his sons, and the Sorcerer. Can you blame us for being curious?"
"Even in the Reach, Lord Stark, we know what a black seal on a raven's scroll means," Willas stated as he helped his grandmother to sit down beside the map. "The raven came from the Night's Watch."
Glancing towards Nox, Ned ground his teeth as the sorcerer made a shrugging motion as if to tell him that it was his choice whether to tell them the whole truth of the matter at hand. 'I doubt they will believe me fully,' Ned thought, dreading the reaction to what he was about to say. 'But at least if I can plant the notion into their minds now, when we provide physical proof to back our claims they won't be as shocked and will be quicker to take action.'
"We've recently learned that the Wildlings have mostly united themselves together behind a King-Beyond-the-Wall," Ned told them, drawing a few sharp looks from those present.
"Last I heard, the wildings are little more than barbarians that still use stone arrows and clubs, are they not?" Olenna scoffed, seemingly not too concerned about the threat of the wildlings.
"Aye, that is true." Ned conceded. "Though in recent years they have started using more and more steel weaponry. No doubt those that they collect from their raids south of the Wall. While individually the wildlings are little more than raiders, in a large group they can be extremely dangerous. And the Watch's best estimate of those who follow the King-Beyond-the-Wall number over a hundred thousand who have spent their entire lives fighting everyday just to survive."
The number brought a look of concern to the Tyrells and one of interest to Prince Oberyn.
"A hundred thousand?" Willas asked as the young man visibly tried to wrap his mind around the fact that there was a force that could rival the numbers the Reach could muster in times of war.
"Aye, each of whom will pick up a weapon and fight to the death with a ferocity that is rarely seen outside of experienced soldiers." Ned said seriously, pressing his knuckles down onto the surface of the table and leaning forward. "And while the numbers are indeed concerning, the man who leads them is equally concerning if not more so. Because unlike other Kings-Beyond-the-Wall, Mance Rayder is a former Black Brother who defected over the Wall and made a life for himself amongst the Wildlings. And from what I've learned from my brother who serves at the Watch, Mance is well educated and has a good head for battle."
"Then the solution is obvious, though no doubt difficult to achieve." Oberyn shrugged. "Instead of fighting his entire force, you find a way to slip a brave man with a sharp dagger or a potent poison into the Wildlings camp and end this King-Beyond-the-Wall. If I understand the wildings, his death will cause a power struggle and fracture the gathered army beyond repair, no?"
The idea was not without merit, as loath as Ned was to admit as such to a plan involving assassination. But if it came to it…it was something he needed to consider. One life and chaos amongst the wildlings versrus open warfare at the Wall or perhaps even south of it, bleeding into the Northern lands and her people. "It is possible. But I fear the wildlings gathering behind a King is only part of the problem north of the Wall." This is where Ned knew that he had to tread carefully. The resurgence of magic that had come with Nox's arrival may make some more open to the idea of the White Walkers and their Undead army being real, but they still had no actual proof to back their claim. "But we have been receiving reports of late that are…concerning. Entire clans of wildlings the size of small villages have gone missing seemingly overnight, leaving behind all their possessions and no clue as to where they went. Then there are the raids that are being conducted by the wildlings that manage to get south of the Wall. Their methods and tactics are unusual. They're not raiding and going back north. They're raiding and continuing south. And recently the number of desertions from the Night's Watch has increased as well, particularly amongst the rangers that have managed to return to the Watch and speak of some type of horror north of the Wall before fleeing. And that's if they even manage to return at all in the first place."
"You believe that there is something further north of the Wall. Something that is hunting down both the wildlings and the men of the Nights Watch," Prince Oberyn stated, a thoughtful expression on his face as he idly rubbed at his well-trimmed beard and mustache. "You believe that the wildings are not gathering in mass to launch a war against your lands, but rather to try and flee across the Wall to get away from whatever it is that is hunting them. So, you wish to treat with this King-Beyond-the-Wall to try and discover what it is that is driving their actions."
Ned was mildly amazed at how quickly the Prince of Dorne had managed to put everything together. "Aye, you are right in your assumptions, Prince Oberyn."
"But…what could it be?" Lord Willas asked, genuinely confused. "What else is north of the Wall besides the wildlings and the cold?"
"The White Walkers."
All eyes in the hall turned to the smallest individual in the hall, Tyrion Lannister, who was standing just off to the side of the gathering with a thoughtful expression on his face. "Outside of the wildlings, the only other thing that could be north of the Wall is the White Walkers, even if they are myth."
'No use in denying it now that it is out in the open.' Ned frowned. "They are a possibility that we are considering."
"Absurd," Lady Olenna scoffed, shaking her head. "The Sorcerer's power is real, my Willas can attest to that. But you are talking about legends that have long since been dismissed as mere myth, Lord Stark. They are no more real than grumpkins and snarks."
"I would not be so quick as to deny their existence, Lady Tyrell," Gerion Lannister cut in quickly before Ned could. "If you were to step even a foot onto the land that was once Valyria, you would quickly come to realize that that which you believe to be utter superstitious nonsense is in fact quite real."
Frowning, the dowager of House Tyrell turned her attention to Prince Oberyn, no doubt in the hopes of trying to find some ally to back her assumptions. But to Ned's surprise, neither the Prince nor the Princess of Dorne were rejecting the idea. Instead, both were looking quite worried and interested.
"Bran the Builder created the Wall to keep something out of the lands of men," Princess Arianne stated plainly. "And while my knowledge of siege warfare might not be the greatest in the land, you don't build something the size and scope of the Wall just to keep out the likes of men. You build it because you are trying to keep out something far worse."
"Don't be so quick to underestimate the power of the Force, Lady Tyrell," Nox stated, turning his sightless gaze towards the Lady of the Reach. "The Force is capable of feats that you cannot fathom. A task such as animating corpses, while inefficient in my opinion, is not outside the realm of possibilities for one who has the necessary will and power."
Ned could easily see that those present were quickly separating into two groups. The first, mostly the Tyrells, were seemingly completely dismissive of even the possibility of the White Walkers being real. And the second were at least open to the possibility that the ancient foes of men were real. 'But even if they are open to the idea, they do not fully believe that such an enemy exists. Gods, I don't even want such an enemy to exist. But having seen what I've seen and based on what I've learned from Nox, animating the dead is not necessarily an uncommon phenomenon.'
"Regardless of what we believe the cause of their actions to be, the fact remains that the wildlings are moving." Ned stated, trying to edge the conversation around the Walkers and back to a threat that they could all understand. "And we need to know what their intentions are. The Night's Watch has managed to get word to the King-Beyond-the-Wall. He has agreed to treat with us at a location of his choosing north of the Wall. And my sons and I have decided to hear him out. We'll be leaving in two days."
The announcement silenced everyone in the hall and for good reason. Even in the far south, it was well known that a venture north of the Wall was not something that was to be taken lightly. "So, you intend to march past the Wall into a frozen wasteland where your piss freezes before it can hit the ground. Then through an army of savages that wish you dead to speak with the man who leads them. Who, to the best of your knowledge, is fully intent on doing anything he can to get his people south of the Wall?" Oberyn spoke up at last, ending the stunned silence in the room. "Sounds fun. I'm in."
The proclamation drew several sharp looks, mostly from the Princess and the Tyrells. The only one in the room who didn't look even the slightest bit surprised by the offer was Nox, who was just standing off to the side with a smile on his face.
"Your offer is appreciated, Prince Oberyn," Ned said, leveling his gaze at the prince. "However, I am not asking for any to—"
"Then it is a good thing that I am not asking, isn't it?" The prince countered him with a smirk. "Face it, Stark, I'm coming with you. My own brother cannot keep me from doing that which I wish, what chance do you think you have of doing so? Plus, my spear will be more than handy to you when this all goes to shit."
"I'm going as well," Gerion Lannister stated, drawing a sharp look from Tyrion and Ned. "I owe Lord Nox, your son, and the North a debt of life. And a Lannister always pays his debts."
Sighing, Ned knew that there would be no talking the men out of joining them. And from the look that Lady Tyrell was directing towards her grandson, he knew that they would not be the only ones joining them. "A matter of the Watch is a matter that concerns all of Westeros, not just the North," Willas said diplomatically, though Ned wanted to scoff at that. The Watch was little more than a dumping ground for those who wanted to avoid the block for anyone outside the North. "And House Tyrell will not shy away from our duties to the realm. My brother and I, along with some of our men, will accompany you, Lord Stark. Provided we can manage to get Garlan on a horse before we leave for the Wall."
'And now things have gotten even more complicated,' Ned wanted to sigh. 'Demanding that they leave would be much more preferable than having them come north and potentially risk their lives on what could be a fool's errand.' "You all will all follow my commands as if you were my own bannermen once we are north of the Wall. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Lord Stark."
"As you say, Stark."
"Aye."
"Very well," Ned sighed. "The courtesy of Winterfell shall be extended to your families until your return. Do what you must to prepare yourselves, but we leave in two days at first light. If you are not with us when we ride out, then we will leave you behind. Maester Luwin, send out the ravens to the Lords of the North. Any who wish to take part in these talks must gather at Eastwatch before we depart for Hardhome."
Darkness swirled like a thick fog around Jon as he knelt in the middle of his master's private meditation room. The Force flowed freely through him, guiding his thoughts as he let himself be pulled by it's current. 'Where are you?' he wondered within the vortex of the Force, searching through the endless void for what he sought. 'It's never been this difficult before…but then again I've never tried to purposefully make the connection. But still…it shouldn't be – wait. There!'
Sensing his target like a lighthouse at night, Jon focused his will to divert the flow of the Force to reach that which he sought. The young blond girl jolted upright, her eyes blinking rapidly as she stared around wildly trying to find what woke her from her slumber. As her eyes fell upon him, her gaze softened, and her body relaxed. "Jon," she said, her breath coming in and out in soft pants.
"Dany," Jon smiled, elation flowing through him at being able to make the connection. "I didn't actually think I would get this to work so fast."
Dany's head tilted to the side as she blinked at him. "Get…what to work?"
"This…" Jon started, motioning between them. "This connection between us. My Master said it's a Force bond and that allows us to talk and see one another. Though he didn't really know why it'd formed between us, though he called us a dyad in the Force. Whatever that means."
Dany's just continued to stare at him, confusion still written clearly across her face. "The…Force? A – A bond between us? What are you talking about?"
Rubbing the back of his head, Jon thought about the best way to explain this to her. 'How many times have I run this conversation through my head? And now that it's here, I can't remember a single word I meant to say to her.' "Well, the Force is basically magic. Though that term is an oversimplification and if you call the Force 'magic' to my Master, he'd just laugh at your ignorance."
Dany's confusion started to wane, being replaced by awe. "So…So, you have this magic? This…Force?"
"Aye," Jon nodded. "And so do you, Dany. Otherwise, we wouldn't be able to talk like this."
Dany's eyes widened once more. "I – I have this power as well?"
Jon nodded. "Aye, you do. And I can even show you the basics on how to use it if you'd like. I'm afraid I'm not nearly as good as a teacher as my Master is, but then again I doubt anyone is."
"Your Master?" Dany questioned, her face becoming somewhat guarded suddenly. "You–You keep mentioning him. But…But who is he? And–And, if you don't mind me asking, who are you?"
'She's…concerned? Why?' "My…My name is Jon Stark, baseborn son of Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell. And my Master is Lord Alim Nox, the Northern Sorcerer."
The moment the names left his lips, Dany immediately jolted away from him as she started scrambling at what he could only assume to be her bedroll. Confused by her actions, Jon reached out to try and reassure her, but he immediately had to pull his hand back as Dany slashed at him with a small dagger she'd pulled out from beneath her bedroll. "Stay back! Son of the Usurper's dog! I won't let you kill me so easily!"
"What?!" Jon gasped, keeping his hands raised and making sure to have one eye on the dagger. "Dany–?"
"Don't call me that!" Dany hissed, slashing at him again even though they were nowhere close to one another. "I am Daenerys Targaryen, sister to King Viserys Targaryen, the true King of Westeros!"
'She – She's a Targaryen?!' Jon gasped. 'No. This – This isn't possible. Well, I suppose it is possilbe be cause it's happening and – shit. She's frightened, but she's telling the truth. I can sense it. Do I tell her who I really am? No, that won't do any good right now.' "Dany." The knife twitched towards him again. "Daenerys. I – You might not believe this but – but I mean you no harm. And neither does my father."
"Lies!" Dany hissed as she suddenly stopped backing away from him as she clearly backed up against something. "I will not believe the words coming from the mouth of the Usurper dog's son's mouth!"
"Then look past the words," Jon said, doing everything he could to keep himself calm. "Look to me. Look with more than just your eyes, feel the connection between us…It's like a stream. Don't fight it, just…feel. And you will know that I speak the truth, Daenerys, when I say that neither I, nor my father, nor anyone in House Stark wishes to see you come to harm."
He could feel something touching at the outside of his senses. It was tentative and clearly ill-practiced, but he could feel the probe. So, he willingly left himself bare to its fumbling touches. "No," Dany kept muttering. "It's a trick. It's all a trick. The Usurper has been sending assassins after my brother and I since he overthrew my family in his own selfish bid for power. My brother told me so…and I've seen them with my own eyes."
'I know that my father wouldn't send assassins after the remaining Targaryens… But I guess that I can't really say the same about King Robert. But wait, what did she say? 'His own selfish bid for power'? Does she…Does she not know what happened to start the Rebellion?'
"Dan – Daenerys." He quickly corrected himself, keeping himself open and trying to impart the truth of his words through the Force so that she could sense it. "Do you know what started the Rebellion against your family?"
Dany's hold on the knife faltered as the tip lowered slightly. "Brother…He doesn't like to talk about it. He only says that the Usurper, his dog, and those who supported him revolted against father, their rightful king, and brutally murdered our brother, Rhaegar."
"That's only part of the story." It was true, from a twisted point of view, but it was not everything. "The truth is that the Rebellion was a long time coming. But the tipping point was when your brother, Rhaegar, disappeared with Lyanna Stark. My uncle Brandon, the heir to Winterfell, marched to King's Landing and demanded of your father that Rhaegar present himself to explain his actions. Your father had him imprisoned and then called my grandfather, Rickard Stark, down to King's Landing to explain what he considered to be 'the treasonous actions' of his son. When my grandfather arrived, King Aerys immediately had him arrested for treason before he could even utter a word in his own defense. Knowing that he had no hope in a fair trial, my grandfather demanded a Trial by Combat. King Aerys agreed and named fire as the champion of the crown."
He could see Dany's eyes go wider and she began to shake her head in denial, but Jon pressed on. "He had my grandfather suspended from the rafters and slowly burned alive in his own armor. At the same time, he had my uncle brought out, put a noose around his neck, and had a sword placed just out of his reach. He told my uncle that he could save his father if he could reach the sword. My uncle strangled himself to death trying to reach the sword while watching my grandfather be burned al—"
"It's a lie!" Dany screamed, and Jon had to take a step back as he felt the Force react to her shout and force him back a step.
"It's not," Jon replied sadly, shaking his head. "You know my words are true, even if you don't want to believe them, even if you don't know how you know. You know that every word I am speaking is the truth."
The knife clattered to the ground as Dany grabbed her head in both hands and sank down to her knees. "I – I don't know. I don't know. It can't be…It just can't be…"
Sighing, Jon knelt before Dany. He wanted to comfort the girl. But, honestly, he had no idea what he could say or do that would bring her any sort of comfort right now. Especially seeing as how he was the source of her anguish. He needed something to try and convince her. Or someone. But who was in Essos that could talk to her? That she would even believe? 'Wait…the Martells. Arianne's mother is still in Essos. And Dany and her brother are supposedly on the run. It…it might be possible.' "Tell me, Daenerys, are you and your brother by chance traveling towards Norvos?"
Dany's eyes shot up and went wide with fear. "Wh– How…?"
"Don't worry. I have no intention of telling anyone where you are heading," Jon tried to reassure her. "I only want to help."
Despite the tears still staining her cheeks, Dany eyed him wearily. "Why? You all serve the Usurper. Why aren't you trying to kill me?"
"Because life is not so simple, Daenerys," Jon replied. "My father and the North did indeed hate your father, King Aerys, and your brother Rhaegar for what they did. But that hatred started and ended with them. In fact, the fates of Elia Martell and her children combined with King Robert's demands for you and your brother's death damn near started another war. In the North, we believe that the sins of the parent should not fall upon the shoulders of their children."
Sniffing, Dany sat up straighter. "What help can you offer us? You're…I don't even know where you are. And I…My brother and I are alone and constantly on the run."
Wincing, Jon sat down so that the two were eye level with one another. "I can't offer help directly, but I can point you in the direction of someone who might be willing to at least give you and your brother shelter for a time. When you reach Norvos, if that is indeed where you are heading, seek out the manor of Lady Mellario. She might be willing to give you and your brother at least some aid."
Dany blinked. "Why?"
"Because she is the wife of Prince Doran Martell of Dorne," Jon answered, drawing a look of surprise from Dany. "I cannot guarantee that she will be welcoming of you and your brother, but at the very least she might be willing to meet and speak with you about what happened in Westeros that led to the downfall of your family."
Rising to his feet, Jon stared down at the still kneeling form of Daenerys Targaryen. "I – I won't contact you this way again, Lady Daenerys, until you try and reach out. I don't want to cause you any more anguish than I already have. But when you want to talk once more, I will be here for you. And…one last thing. You and your brother…You're not as alone as you might think."
And with that, Jon severed the connection, ending his time in the black void of the Force and snapping back into his body with such force that he nearly knocked himself over from his kneeling position. Taking a moment to regain his bearings, Jon rose on unsteady feet and made his way out of his master's meditation rooms. The moment he stepped out of the room, he was nearly run over by a mass of silk and wavy black hair.
"Gods, Jon," Arianne gasped. "I thought you would still be in meditation and – What's wrong?"
Giving himself a shake, Jon did all that he could to put what had just happened to the back of his mind. "Nothing of importance," he said, forcing himself to look at Arianne, which in truth was not a difficult task in the slightest. "Are you alright? Did something happen?"
Arianne didn't look convinced, but she seemed willing to let the matter slide for now in favor of whatever it was that'd brought her to him. "I've deciphered the last of the runes and – and I think we can finally finish your copy of the Rhyonish artifact."
His ill-mood brought on from his encounter with Dany – no, Daenerys – quickly left him as the prospect of finally finishing the task his Master had assigned to him nearly a year past. "Finally," he breathed as he met Arianne's smirk with one of his own. "Let's get this done, shall we?"
The two didn't say another word to one another as Arianne grabbed hold of Jon's arm as they made their way back to the Sorcerer's library and to their own little section that they'd been using ever since the day of Arianne's arrival in Winterfell. The little table that'd been there originally had been replaced with a much larger table that was nearly as long as Jon. Skewed across its surface were dozens of books, sketches, and pieces of jewelry, most of which had been donated by Arianne herself and sitting amid all the chaos was the armlet that Jon had found in Valyria alongside the duplicate that was now nearly complete.
Setting to work immediately, Arianne pulled out a small sketch book that she seemingly took everywhere with her and opened it while Jon grabbed a small chisel to etch the runes into the new armlet. The work was almost excruciatingly slow, mostly since Jon had next to no experience working on metal in this manner, and neither did Arianne. So, the two were learning as they were going. But while the chiseling and organization of the runes was indeed difficult, it paled in comparison to the fact that Jon had to constantly channel the Force into his every etch to imbue the armlet with the Force. Or at least he hoped that he did. If not…well…best not for him to dwell on the matter.
"And the last rune, the one for 'water', should go right here," Arianne stated, pointing to what was quite possibly the last piece of unetched metal on the armlet. "Then you'll need to connect the rune to the others using this arrangement…or at least that was what was done on the original."
Following her instructions exactly, Jon made the last few additions that were necessary to complete the runic design. Thanks to how deeply and continuously he was channeling the Force, the moment his chisel made the last connecting line, Jon felt something. It was like a startling spark. A strong shift in the Force the likes of which that he'd never felt before. The armlet beneath his hands glowed red like a hot ember for the briefest of moments before returning to its normal silver coloring.
"Jon," Arianne breathed, her face so close to his he could swear he felt her breath on his face. "Did that…? Did it just…glow? And—And what was that…feeling? I swear I just got a chill but there was no wind."
Picking up the armlet, Jon stared down at the simple thing. It wasn't that beautiful or impressive looking, all things considered. A silver forearm bracer with a leather pad to protect the skin with a slim golden chain Arianne had provided him that was connected to a ring that was meant to be worn on the user's finger to further their connection and provide better control. Or at least that was his hope. In truth, he didn't know why he'd added the chain and ring. It'd just felt right to do so in the moment, so he did. But now that he was holding the completed armlet in his hands, and with Arianne sitting so close to him, he could feel something else. Something between the beautiful woman at his side and the armlet in his hands.
"So," Arianne said, clearly putting the strange phenomenon out of her mind. "Does it work?"
"Let's see," Jon said, before turning and holding the armlet out for her. "Put it on."
For the first time since he'd met her, Jon finally had the pleasure of pulling a surprise out on the Princess of Dorne. "What?" she gaped, looking from him to the armlet and then back again. "But I thought – Lord Nox said I don't have magic."
"No," Jon replied, shaking his head, "he said that you do not have the same type of Force affinity as my siblings and I. That doesn't mean that you are incapable of manipulating the Force at some level. And plus, this is Rhyonish, your people. If anyone has a right to wear this Arianne, it's you. Here, hold out your hand."
Jon didn't really understand why, but as Arianne held out her right-hand Jon felt something shift within him. And it shifted again as he carefully placed the armlet on her exposed skin and slipped the ring onto her finger on her right hand. The moment the ring was fully on, Arianne shivered and let out a slight gasp. "Jon…? What was…? What's happening?"
Keeping hold of her arm, Jon pulled the two of them up to their feet. Without even realizing what he was doing or why, he arranged them so that his front was flush against her back and her right hand was being held in his right with her palm pointed towards the cup of water. "You're feeling the flow of the Force," he said, her hair tickling his face and her scent filling his nose nearly to the point of distraction. "Let it guide you. Feel the room around us. Then find the cup of water through what you feel."
Arianne's hand was still slightly shaking in his own as her breath started coming in short pants. "I – I can feel it. It's so…gods… Is this what you feel all the time?"
"Focus," Jon gently chided her, tightening his grip on her arm not to cause pain but to make sure she focused at the task at hand. "Find the water."
Nodding, Arianne closed her eyes and her breathing leveled out. "I – I see it. How–?"
"Now command it," Jon told her firmly. "Don't ask it. Don't will it. Command it. Bend the water to your will and form it into a ball and lift it from the cup."
He could feel Arianne almost vibrate against him as a surge of the Force flowed through her. The cup on the table shifted and rocked back and forth as she squeezed her eyes closed. Slowly, the water within the cup began to ripple, then the rippling stopped as the water began to form a ball and slowly rise out of the cup. "Arianne," he said lowly, his lips near her ear. "Open your eyes."
Arianne's eyes snapped open, and she let out a gasp as she saw the ball of water floating before her. "I – I did it!" she all but yelled joyously.
Unfortunately, her elation was short lived as her concentration broke and the small ball of water fell back down into the cup, over half of which splashed back out and onto the table. "That's alright," Jon smiled, trying to be reassuring despite her loss of concentration. "You just need to practice a bit more an—"
That was about as far as Jon got as Arianne turned in his arms, wrapped her surprisingly strong arms around his neck, and firmly sealed her lips to his.
Jon's mind went blank as Arianne pressed herself harder against him to the point where he could feel every sensuous curve she possessed pressed against him. But when he finally began to reciprocate and she let out the slightest of moans of pleasure, whatever control he had snapped as the slumbering wolf and dragon within him both awoken simultaneously. Before he could even comprehend what it was that he was doing, he'd backed Arianne up to the wall and pressed her against it just hard enough to make her gasp. But he didn't stop, he couldn't stop. The wolf and the dragon within him that he always kept on a leash were now unleashed and demanding that he take what'd always been on his mind ever since he'd met her. And for her part, Arianne seemed more than willing to take everything he was giving her and return it tenfold.
But as pleasurable as the sensation coursing through him was, all too soon the needs of the body took hold and Jon had to separate from Arianne to breathe. As he pulled back, Arianne's eyes opened, dark and filled with a heat that made Jon shake.
"You know… That doesn't look all that comfortable doing that against the wall like that."
Jon sprung away from Arianne, his hand reaching out on instinct and calling his lightsaber to him. "Gods…Arya." Jon growled, seeing his youngest sister standing just a short distance away from them. "What are you doing here?"
Arya, for her part, was just staring at the two of them with a blank expression. Well, mostly blank. There was no hiding that slight smirk on her face. "From the stories that I've heard Theon and the other guards tell, this sort of thing works a lot better on a bed. And with less clothes. Though just why you'd want to do something like…well…that is just weird. You two looked like you were trying to suck each other's faces off."
Clearing her throat, Arianne stepped up past him and towards his sister. While Jon was sure that he was completely red by this point out of embarrassment, Arianne looked utterly at ease despite having just been caught doing…well, what they were doing. 'Hopefully Arianne can calm this situation down. Or at least convince Arya not to tell everyone…The last thing I need is for the Red Viper of Dorne to think I've dishonored his niece!'
"A bed and less clothes are the end game of such activities, little wolf, but not necessary to have fun." Any hope that Jon had of Arianne calming things over went right out the window as she glanced towards him and gave him a wink before turning back to his sister. "As for whether it is fun or not, of course it is! It's quite an enjoyable experience for both parties, otherwise you and your brothers and sister wouldn't be here. Give it a few years, and once you find the right man or woman you will understand just how enjoyable such activities can be, little wolf."
"Man…or woman?" Arya asked, which only served to add to Jon's mortification. "How can two women do…that?"
"Quite easily," Arianne answered as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Such activities are not limited to just between a man and woman. A woman and woman can enjoy one another, as can a man and man. You can even just enjoy yourself should the need arise."
"Gods, Arianne," Jon breathed, his mortification reaching levels he never thought possible. He was not about to have…this conversation with his little sister. "She's just ten! She doesn't need you to corrupt her."
Arianne turned on him with an arched brow, and Jon immediately knew that he'd said something wrong. "Oh? A corrupting influence am I, Jon Stark?"
Jon had next to no warning before something cold struck the back of his neck and quickly ran down his shirt. "Come, little wolf," Arianne said, a smile on her face as she purposefully turned her back on Jon and looked to his sister. "I have some 'corrupting' to teach you. Away from your brother's sensitive ears."
Shivering from the cold water running down his back, Jon could do little more than just stare as Arianne took his sister by the arm and quickly led her out of library. 'I wonder who will actually be doing the corrupting?' Jon sighed, knowing his sister and her…fondness for pulling jokes on people.
"I see that you finally managed to complete the task that I set upon you."
"Shit!" Jon nearly screamed, jumping in place, and turning so that he was facing his very amused looking Master. "Master…"
"Though I do admit that I agree with your sister. If you truly wish to engage in such activities, I would highly recommend a bed. At least for the first time, much more comfortable. After that, well, a little bit of exhibitionism never hurt anyone and can provide quite the thrill when done right."
"By the gods, Master!" Jon swore, trying to shake the water out of his shirt, which of course only spread it out further. "I'm not talking about this with you! Or anyone!"
His Master, seeming to take joy in his suffering, didn't let the matter drop. "Why not? It's not healthy to keep this sort of thing bottled in. Humans, and most sentient beings, are creates of needs and passion. Denying or bottling those up can cause a lot of harm to both oneself and those around them."
"Aye, I know," Jon nodded. "You've lectured on this topic to all of us many a time before."
His Master nodded. "Aye, I have. But you still seem intent on not understanding it. Though it does seem that the young Princess is quite good at getting you out of your shell, so to speak. But let's leave this for now and let's focus on the fact that you finally managed to replicate the Rhyonish armlet you found in Valyria. An armlet that you immediately gifted to Arianne."
Jon's chest puffed out slightly in pride. "Aye, I—wait…You said a Rhyonish armlet…not Valyrian. Which means – oh gods. You knew it was Rhyonish and not Valyrian."
"I did."
Huffing, Jon brought a hand through his hair in frustration. "Then why didn't you tell me? I've been spending months pouring over every Valyrian book I could find trying to make sense of the damn thing. If I had known that it wasn't even Valyrian, then…oh. That…That was part of the lesson…wasn't it?"
"Aye, it was," his Master nodded. "You did good in using the Force to guide you in the recreation of the armlet, take pride in that because I do not know of many Apprentices your age that would've even come close to manipulating the Force in such a precise way as you just did. But you missed one of the larger points of the lesson for a long time. Never make assumptions based on what you think you know. We found the armlet in Valyria, so you simply assumed that it was Valyrian. And you became so blinded by this view that you forgot the fact that we learned one of the key factors in the Valyrians becoming such a dominating force was because they took what made their enemies strong and incorporated it into themselves."
"Aye, Master," Jon nodded. "I won't make the same mistake again."
"See that you don't. Tunnel vision serves no one well." Pausing, his Master held out a hand and summoned a seemingly random book from the depths of the library. "This is a book on how the Rhyonish used the Force to manipulate the elements like water, fire, earth and air to their needs. I would suggest that you gift this book to Arianne as an apology."
"An apology?" Jon asked, taking the book from his Master. "But – But I haven't done anything wrong."
The look his Master gave him was one of amusement. "You know nothing, Jon Stark. But at least you're capable of learning so you're not completely hopeless."
Walking through the darkened alleyways of King's Landing, a man wearing a dark cloak with his hood raised over his head easily avoided the prying eyes of the people of the city as he made his way towards the harbor and one of the more prestigious inns known to house usually only the captains of vessels or visiting nobles from across the Narrow Sea. Pausing near the back entrance, the man took one last look around to make sure he wasn't followed before quietly making his way into the building and up a narrow flight of stairs to the uppermost level of the building. Ignoring the sounds of whores applying their trade, the man made his way towards the last room at the end of the hall and knocked on the door twice, then once, then thrice more.
The door immediately opened, revealing an obese man who could rival King Robert and Lord Mace Tyrell in girth. The man's oily golden forked beard twisted as the man smiled and pulled the dark cloaked man into the room. "It's been too long, Varys," the man said after shutting the door and making sure that they were alone.
Lowering his hood, Varys nodded as he watched his long-time friend make his way back across the room towards a large pitcher of wine and a platter of bread and cheese. "That it has, Illyrio. I take it that you managed to take advantage of the information that I sent you?"
"Yes, for all of a few days that is." Illyrio grumbled as he sat down, the chair beneath him groaning as he did. "There are plenty of wealthy in Essos who will pay good coin for Northern glass, especially those decorative pieces that they've been exporting as of late. Unfortunately, it seems that the North prefers to do direct business with only one of their own in Pentos. Even if he is an exiled kid from a disgraced House."
"Domeric Bolton," Varys said, identifying the young man. "I had heard songs that he was doing well in his exile."
"Doing well is an understatement, Varys," Illyrio laughed. "The boy arrived in Pentos with nothing more than the clothes on his back and few loyal men who were willing to follow him. I thought he'd end up as nothing more than a sellsword that I could perhaps employ and slowly turn to work with us in the endgame. But he proved me wrong. Within a few days of arriving, he managed to get the edge on the glass market. By the end of his first week, he managed to set up a stall and secure a few high paying customers. And within a moon's turn, he managed to grow his trade to the point where he can afford one of the largest manors in Pentos near equal to my own. He has a small army of Unsullied guards and sellswords. The kid either has the greatest mind for trade I have ever seen. Or…"
"Someone is helping him," Varys finished for his friend.
"Yes, and I'm willing to bet coin it's the second. No one establishes a network as fast as he did without help. Then there is the fact that some of his more…aggressive competitors just up and disappear. But not until they try something nefarious against him first, of course. But still, just to be safe I've pulled out almost completely of the Northern glass market and I'm staying clear of the Myrish market as well. This is one trade war that I guarantee will get bloody soon if it hasn't already."
Humming, Varys nodded and kept the information in the back of his mind. "Let us talk on other matters. I've heard an unfortunate rumor regarding one close to us."
Sighing, Illyrio rubbed at his golden beard. "You heard correctly, my friend. Damn cutpurses. The Septa didn't stand a chance. They hardly even left anything behind that could identify her. This will hurt our long-term goals. Her voice would've gone a long way."
"Yes, it would have," Varys nodded. He knew very well how much her voice was needed. That was why he'd done what he did in the first place to secure her loyalty. Or rather service to the cause. "But we still have other options. What of the two that are running? I have not heard many songs of either since they wore out their welcome in Volantis."
Illyrio merely shrugged. "Not much to say. Viserys continues saying that he is the true King of Westeros to anyone who will listen. There are still a few amongst the wealthy who are willing to entertain him with the promise of a return for their generosity, but the boy often wears out their welcome within a few weeks at best. The girl, not much to say on her outside of the fact that she is apparently turning into a true Valyrian beauty. Last I heard, they were heading north towards Norvos."
"I see," Varys nodded. "So, despite a mild setback, our plans in Essos are continuing as predicted."
"Yes," Illyrio nodded. "What of here in Westeros? I've been hearing more than a few tales of late that are cause for concern with our long-term goals. Most of which pertain to a certain sorcerer who has found a home in the North."
Varys felt his stomach turn as the topic of conversation changed. "Yes. Lord Alim Nox of Winterfell, the Northern Sorcerer. Unfortunately, after now having met the man and even played against him slightly, I can say that whatever stories you have heard of him have been…understating his abilities."
"Really?" Illyrio questioned. "I've heard some pretty outlandish tales. The least of which is him venturing into Valyria and returning with enough wealth to buy his own kingdom."
"That is true," Varys stated, drawing a sharp look from his friend. "I am uncertain as to the full extent of what the sorcerer managed to acquire from Valyria, but it was enough for him to offer a tithe to the crown in the sum of eight Valyrian steel longswords. One for each member of the Kingsguard and one for the King himself."
Leaning forward, Illyrio stroked his golden beard with a bit more force. "And what of the tales of those he is training? The children of House Stark? Will they be a threat?"
Varys lowered his eyes as the memories of Pycelle's trial came to mind. "The sorcerer's primary student, his apprentice, is the baseborn of Ned Stark and Ashara Dayne, or at least that is what the rumors say. Though my own investigation into the boy's mother has led me to know that is not the case. Unfortunately, the mother eludes me…but I have a suspicion. And if my suspicion proves true, then we will have yet another obstacle to overcome. But regardless of who Ned Stark sired the boy upon, his skill is without question. At barely the age of becoming a man, Jon Stark managed to fight and kill a member of the Kingsguard in a Trial by Combat. And he did so almost effortlessly. I can only assume that his skill is a result from his training under the sorcerer. And word from the North says that each of Lord Stark's children, even the girls, are being trained in a similar manner. And now Stannis Baratheon has sent his daughter and heir to train alongside them. Even Tywin Lannister's niece has also gone north to train as well."
Leaning back, Illyrio stopped stroking his beard as a worried expression came over him. "That is…concerning. Very concerning for our long-term goals. But they are still children. Young and inexperienced. They follow Nox, do they not? If we managed to turn the sorcerer towards our ideals, it is likely that the children will follow as well. Which will make things much easier for us."
Varys's own experience with magic in his youth, which resulted in him becoming what he is, had left a sour opinion of anyone who practiced the arcane. If it were up to him, he would simply leave the sorcerer be. But as it was, that was not an option. "I do not know if such a thing will be possible," Varys answered honestly. "I tried to get a read on the man while he was in King's Landing after the failed coup attempt by the Maesters. But the man might as well have been a blank piece of canvas for all that I was able to infer about him. But one thing that I know is this: Nox is loyal only to himself. Many in the land, the King included, are deluded enough to believe that the sorcerer owes his allegiance to the wolves, especially now with his wife being named the Stewardess of Winterfell. But I know better. A man like Nox only serves those that he is also using. And once the Starks no longer have any value to him, he will leave them behind and move on. And we need to take extreme care not to underestimate the man. He has proven to be very adapt at playing the game."
"Speaking from experience, my friend?" Illyrio jibbed and laughed, though Varys did not amusing. "Fine. If he can't be brought to our way of thinking, then we simply need to remove him from the board. From what I've heard, this sorcerer's power is like a maul, big and destroying everything in its path. So, let us instead go for a power that is akin to a dagger in the dark."
Varys knew immediately as to whom Illyrio was referring to. "Nox and the Starks just survived an assassination attempt by their own vassal lords. Their guard will be raised for some time yet. I doubt that even the famed Faceless Men would be able to succeed."
"Valar morghulis, my friend. All men die." Illyrio responded with a slight smile. "But I can concede your point in that the sorcerer will be on guard. And our plans are still years away from fruition anyway, so eliminating the sorcerer and those who follow him will be our last resort. For now, I will strive to find a way to level the playing field. And I believe I might just have an opportunity to do so. It'll cost a fair amount of coin, but the payouts will be more than worth the cost should we be successful."
Varys did not like the road his friend was turning towards. "And pray tell, how exactly are you thinking of leveling the playing field against a man like the sorcerer, my friend?"
Illyrio's smirk behind his beard did not diminish. "I know of your history, my friend. While I can sympathize with your plight, now is not a time to let our personal grudges get in the way of plans that have been in place for so long. Not when we are finally so close to seeing them come to fruition. Sometimes, you must fight fire with fire. And that is exactly what I intend to do with this sorcerer and his ilk."
He was right of course. Varys's own history had made him distrustful of anything even remotely related to the arcane. And if it were up to him, there would be no practitioners of the arcane left. But he knew that that was a dream that would never come to fruition. At least not in his lifetime. "Very well, my friend. I will leave this particular matter in your capable hands," Varys conceded. "While you work from the angle of countering him, I will see about trying to entice the sorcerer over to our way of thinking. Just know that the price for such an act will be…quite high. And will more than likely require more than a few concessions in the future."
"As long as he does not stand in our way, we can deal with any fallout," Illyrio nodded. "Now, let us move on to other topics while we still have the chance to do so. There is much that we still need to discuss regarding the plans in motion. Both here in Westeros and those in Essos."
Nodding, Varys finally took the only other chair in the room and made himself comfortable as he and his friend began exchanging what they knew and how certain facts and actions would require changes to their long-term goals.
It'd taken Nox years, but he was finally getting use to the almost agonizingly slow pace of travel that Westeros was limited to. This was a journey that would only take a few minutes to maybe an hour back in the Empire. But here, it could take days or even weeks to complete, and you were stuck either riding in a saddle, in a carriage, or walking. While Nox had become a proficient rider during his time on this world, he was far from what could pass as a 'good' rider. Hells, even his wife Nyra was a better rider than he. A fact that she like to remind him of as it was one of the few areas where she could endlessly tease him good naturedly. So, as their group finally crested the last of the seemingly endless hills that made up the landscape of the Gift, Nox only just barely managed to keep his sigh of relief to himself that they would be given a short reprieve as the Wall came into view.
"Well, well," Oberyn whistled as he pulled his horse up alongside Nox. "Hearing about the Wall is one thing. Now having laid eyes on the thing…no description can do it justice. One can only wonder as to just how the people of old manage to build this thing."
Nox was certainly in agreement with his friend. Well, to him almost every structure of note he'd come across on this world had been nothing short of amazing, especially considering the people of this world managed to build them without access to the tools or techniques that were used daily in the Empire and the Republic. But the Wall…the Wall was something else entirely. He'd been able to sense the Wall ever since he'd first arrived on this world nearly a decade past. Yet with everything he'd been trying to accomplish over the years he'd never had the opportunity to venture to the legendary structure. But now that he was within eyesight of the Wall, so to speak, he was very well inclined to agree with Oberyn. Just reading and hearing about the Wall did it little justice.
The Wall was massive, on the level where even the vainest of Sith would almost consider it over the top. But what truly demanded Nox's attention was not the size or the scope of the Wall, but rather its presence in the Force. Even though it'd been thousands of years, he could tell that the Wall itself was built with the aid of the Force. He could sense the Force, both the light and the dark, incorporated seamlessly into the structure. 'They say that Bran the Builder designed and built the Wall with the aid of men, the Children of the Forest, and giants.' Nox reminded himself as their large party led by himself and Ned began their descent from the hilltop towards a lone castle nestled at the base of the Wall. 'He was the architect for all intents and purposes. Which means that he was able to figure out how to incorporate the light and the dark side so seamlessly. Either that, or history has stolen credit away from where it was due and given it to him. A possibility. But still, if Bran Stark was truly the mastermind behind this behemoth, then I seriously need to look over the architecture of Winterfell again. Force only knows what the man built into his home if he was this capable.'
Urging his horse forward slightly, Nox pulled alongside Ned who, Nox noted, was staring at the Wall with the same awe as he. Though Ned's awe was from not seeing the Wall for the first time, but rather from seeing it differently now that he'd been opened to the Force.
"Quite a bit different, isn't it?" Nox asked as the two trotted along the Kingsroad. "Seeing a structure made by the Force through the eyes of the Force."
"Aye, it is," Ned nodded. "Before my fostering in the Vale, my father brought my brothers and I to the Wall so that we might see it for ourselves and come to understand the value and history that it holds. I remember being awed at the sight when I was but a boy. And now…now that I see it differently, it is far grander than I ever thought as a boy."
Focusing his sight further, Nox tried to get a read on the infamous Castle Black that was nestled at the base of the Wall. 'Strange,' he thought as he felt his sight almost get…repelled by the Wall. Out of curiosity he tried to reach beyond the Wall, but the repulsion from whatever Force rituals were performed on the Wall were still so powerful he was nearly physically rocked in his saddle. 'Interesting. Very, very interesting. The Wall is not just a physical block, it repels Force abilities directly as well. It'll be interesting to see if it repels Force sensitive individuals…and if so to what degree must their Force sensitivity be in order to be registered by whatever runes lie within the Wall?'
"Most of the Lords of the North will be housed in Mole's Town, as Castle Black does not have the space or resources to hold so many," Ned spoke up, breaking Nox out of his musings. "We'll meet up with them first before heading on to Castle Black to speak with Lord Commander Mormont."
"As you say, Stark," Oberyn nodded good naturedly as he turned and looked behind him at the train they were leading. "Let's hope that the Watch has the resources to deal with such a large influx of southern volunteers."
While the comment was made in jest, Nox knew from talking with Ned that it was a valid concern. Usually volunteers for the watch, or prisoners who choose the Black over whatever other punishment awaited them, numbered in the handful at most. The few dozen that'd been sent to take the Black after the attempted coup had been the largest single influx of men heading to the watch since the end of the Rebellion. And now they were arriving with somewhere between fifty and one hundred new men to join the Watch. Most of whom had far too many years under their belt to be of any real use. But there were a couple mixed in there that were still young and strong enough to be of use to an Order like the Night's Watch. But as Ned had stated, the state of the Watch had declined severely over the years as only really the Lords of the North bothered to keep the Wall funded and fed. To everyone else, it was just a dumping ground to send their unwanted, and that was the full extent to which they viewed the Wall.
"The Lord Commander will find a place for them," Ned stated, urging his horse towards a small settlement perhaps a mile or so from the Wall.
As they drew closer to the village, Nox began picking out different presences through the Force that he'd made sure to memorize throughout the years as people of importance. 'The Umbers, both the GreatJon and the SmallJon. Maege Mormont as well. One of the Karstark boys…though I never did get a good enough read on any of them to tell them apart from this distance. And there is also Gregor Forrester, not surprising as Asher and his gladiator friend have decided to join us to speak with the wildlings before he settles down to wed. Which means that other familiar presence near to them is Galbart Glover. There are others, quite a few others it seems. But none that I have taken any note of. Still, this is quite the gathering. Not that I expected any less when we are about to discuss the possible alliance with those that've been considered enemies of the North for hundreds, if not thousands, of years.'
As they drew closer to the village, those that'd accompanied their lords quickly began clearing the roadway as they saw the Stark banners coming towards them. And hastily arranging themselves at the onset of the village were all of the Lords Nox had sensed during their approach. The GreatJon and his son were holding the center of the line, pushing the others off to the side. He could see Glover try and edge close to the center, but all it took was a single look from Maege Mormont while the She-bear was fingering her mace to get the man to move down the line.
"Ned, sorcerer!" The GreatJon bellowed as they drew closer. "See you lot finally got here. We've been sittin on our asses for days waiting for you. And – ah. I see why it took you so long. Bunch of southern pretty boys freezing their balls of holding you down huh? Hope these southern boys learn to thicken their blood before winter comes for us, and not just these light summer snows. The Watch doesn't need a bunch of frozen corpses to deal with."
The men of the North laughed as they all took note of layers of fur and leather that each of their southern guest that choose to follow them were wearing. The men from House Tyrell were all wearing a heavy fur coat over their normal clothes, the same of which could be said for all of those from the Reach. And those from Dorne were fairing even worse. They'd lost one guardsman from House Martell already due to the elements. Obara, who'd been the only one of Oberyn's daughters to follow them, was wearing a thick wool coat underneath a set of furs. And even the famed Red Viper himself was wearing a heavy fur coat over his traditional red leather armor. None of whom seemed particularly pleased at being reminded of their unease with the cold.
"Enough, GreatJon," Ned ordered with a sharp look, bringing a sharp end to the amusement of the Northmen. "We would be faring no better in the Reach and even worse in Dorne during the height of the summer years. And these members from House Martell and House Tyrell are more than just our guests. They have volunteered to come north and face the wildlings with us despite knowing the risks. And they will be shown the proper respect."
The GreatJon scoffed. "Respect is earned in the North, Ned. Ya know that better than any. But I suppose the fact that they're actually here means something."
"Of course, it does," Oberyn stated, sliding off his horse with ease and landing soundlessly. "And if you need further convincing, I will be happy to have a go at you in the yard. Though I do fear I will need to comfort your widow after we are through."
The Umber Lord did not look amused. "I've been making corpses of men since you were still at your mother's teat, Dornishman."
Oberyn merely smirked. "And I've made corpses out of men in just about every kingdom in Westeros, plus every Free City in Essos, Valyria, and even during my brief stay in the Summer Isles. Now, shall we continue with this pointless debate? Or do you wish for us to simply whip our dicks out and get this over with? If so, you best do it now. For I fear that if we wait for a larger audience then you will only find yourself emasculated even more by being outmatched by a mere southern boy."
The GreatJon's face started turning red. Though to the surprise of everyone not from the North, the Lord of Last Hearth did not draw his sword. Instead, he threw his head back and laughed. "Haha! You must be the famed Red Viper of Dorne! My son has told me about you. Good to see he wasn't just blowing smoke up my ass!"
With the tension broken, the men those that'd followed them since Winterfell began dispersing into Mole's Town as Ned went about greeting the Lords with Prince Oberyn and Willas Tyrell by his side. But as they were greeting one another, Nox couldn't help but feel a great surge of…not quite hatred but displeasure coming from some of those that'd lined up to greet them. Focusing in, he found the source of the anger as the only woman, Lady Maege Mormont, was staring with unabashed anger at those from the South. 'Because of Jorah? No. She didn't hold this sort of anger while we were in the south. This is something else. Something…personal.'
"And you must be the famed She-Bear, Lady Mormont," Prince Oberyn greeted the Lady of Bear Island, either not noticing or not caring about the look of pure fury that was etched onto her face. "I had the pleasure of fighting alongside your daughter in Valyria, a woman of the North if there ever was one. And my squire Daemon had the pleasure of dancing with her several times during her brief stay in Dorne."
"Oh, I know all about what kind of pleasurable dances this boy performed with my daughter," Maege all but growled, her eyes alight with fury and directed at Prince Oberyn's squire.
Oberyn's brow raised as Maege pushed past him and marched up towards the young Daemon Sand, who, to his credit, managed to hold his ground if only barely in the face of the scowling She-Bear. "My lady," Daemon said, swallowing hard and bowing, "I – um. Your daughter and I – We, umm…I would ask how she is doing? We grew quite close during her time in Dorne."
"Oh, I know," Maege seethed, her hand now firmly gripping her mace, though she did leave it hooked onto her belt at her side. "My daughter is in good health, boy. As is my granddaughter."
All conversations that were being had ceased at the proclamation. Asher Forrester, who'd been amid reuniting with his father, turned and stared opened mouthed at the scene while the gladiator beside him merely raised her brow. Even the usual carefree Oberyn was struck silent as his gaze bounced between his squire and the formidable Lady of Bear Island. And as for Daemon Sand, he was just standing completely still as if his brain had decided to short circuit on him and leave him high and dry.
"Your – Your granddaughter?" the bastard from Dorne finally managed to croak out.
"Aye, my granddaughter," Maege reiterated, the feelings of fury escalating from her. "A result of those 'pleasurable dances' you and my daughter shared."
One could've heard a pin drop in the mud for all the noise that was happening around them as everyone from both the North and the South turned their full attention towards Maege Mormont and Daemon Sand. The former of whom stood a full head over the bastard from Dorne.
"My lady, I…" Daemon started to say before stopping, clearly not sure just what to say. "I – I don't know what to say a—"
"Heh, typical southern boy," Maege spat. "Fuck the North over and leave them to deal with the consequences. I don't know why I was expecting any different from you, boy. Even after all the good my daughter spoke of you."
Something seemed to snap in Oberyn's squire as the young man suddenly stood up straight. But instead of addressing Maege, he turned to Prince Oberyn and went down on a knee. "My prince," he began, his eyes never leaving Oberyn's. "Serving you has been the honor of my life. But now I must beg to leave your service, my Prince."
"Oh?" Oberyn asked, his eyes darting towards the still fuming Maege. "Why?"
Daemon hesitated, but when he spoke, he spoke with conviction. "Because I can no longer be in your service, nor in Dorne's service while I am here in the North. With permission, I would seek to stay here in the North and serve at whatever capacity House Mormont would have of me."
"And who said that I will allow you to even step foot on my lands, boy?" Maege asked, her eyes narrowing in on the young man.
Rising to his feet, Daemon turned back to Maege Mormont and didn't back down from her gaze. "Then I will stay on the shores near to Bear Island and form a homestead of my own and do what I can to serve the people of the North. And even if you try and drive me away, my lady, I will not go unless you end my life. For I will not allow my daughter to be raised without knowing her father. And while Dacey is strong, perhaps the strongest woman I have ever met, I will not force her to shoulder the burden of raising a child alone. I will be with her and our daughter in whatever capacity I can."
Nox could sense the fury slowly leaving Maege as she took note of the young man's conviction. "Bear Island is not the South, boy. We have no sandy beaches, only ice, snow, and mud."
Daemon just shrugged. "Sand is overrated, my lady. It gets everywhere if you're not careful and you have to spend days cleaning it out."
"We don't have no fancy feasts or tourneys or wines for you to sit back and relax with," Maege pressed further, clearly trying to find a fault with the boy and pressure him into not coming near Bear Island.
But unfortunately for her, Daemon didn't seem bothered in the slightest. "Never really been one for fancy feasts, just ask Prince Oberyn and Princess Arianne. Plus, I haven't fought in any tourneys of note, so can't really miss something I haven't experienced. And as for wine, well, I've always actually preferred mead or ale over it. Too sweet, in my opinion. If your next statement is to say that there is no warm weather in the North, I am already aware of that, my lady. And, in truth, I'm actually starting to enjoy the cold of the North."
Maege's fury was almost completely gone by this point. No doubt she was expecting the young Daemon to shirk away from his responsibilities or hesitate to stay in the North, but so far, the lad was proving her wrong about him. "And what is the future you see between my daughter and yourself, boy?"
Daemon hesitated once more, but again spoke with conviction when he finally answered her. "I cannot say that I love your daughter, my lady, for we have only known each other for a short time. But I can say that I am fond of Dacey, fond of her enough that I am willing to leave the life I had behind to be near to her and our daughter. And, even though I am a bastard and make no apologies for what I am, once I gain your approval, my lady, I would gladly take your daughter as my wife and live out the rest of my days serving her and House Mormont on Bear Island."
Maege didn't say anything in return, she just stared at Daemon with a hard look. A look that Daemon returned in kind. "You've got stones, boy," Maege said at last, her demeanor cracking just slightly as amusement and something close to respect came off her. "Show your metal north of the Wall, boy…and I might even say that you've earned my respect enough to court my daughter. And the rest of you: show's over. Now bug the fuck off before I shove my mace up your asses!"
Everyone who wasn't a noble scattered back into Mole's Town as none wanted to test whether Lady Mormont was serious in her threat or not. "Well then, that was certainly entertaining," Oberyn chuckled, slapping his former squire on the shoulder, and giving him a nod of approval for his actions. "Now then, gentlemen, seeing as how we have been on the road for some time and are likely to begin again soon, I do believe I will be taking this opportunity to relax and see what kind of pleasures this quaint little village can provide."
No one needed to question what the Prince of Dorne meant, especially as the man began wandering towards one of the buildings in the village that had a red lantern hanging outside its front door. "By the gods old and new, I'm starting to suspect that my grandmother is not entirely wrong in her assessment of my friend," Willas sighed good naturedly as Oberyn disappeared into the building before turning to Ned. "Lord Stark. Would it not be prudent to continue escorting those bound for the Watch the rest of the way to Castle Black?"
"No need," Nox replied before Ned could. "It seems we have a welcoming party from the Night's Watch heading our way."
True to his word, a dozen men in black cloaks riding horses marched into the north end of the small town and made their way down the road towards them. The one in the lead was one that was instantly recognized by everyone from Winterfell.
"Benjen," Ned called out in greeting to his brother as he and his fellow brothers from the Night's Watch drew close to them.
"Ned, boys. Lord Nox." Benjen Stark greeted each of them in turn before turning his attention to the others with them. "You must be Lord Willas Tyrell then?"
"I am, Lord Stark," Willas replied.
"I'm no longer a lord," Benjen replied not unkindly. "I gave up my title when I took my vows. I am now merely the First Ranger of the Night's Watch."
Willas took everything in stride and nodded his acceptance. "As you say, First Ranger. We've brought a number of volunteers for the Watch from all over the Reach and we were just about to discuss what is to be done with them now that we are so close to the Wall."
Benjen turned his attention from his family and Willas towards the line of men, some of whom were obviously prisoners as they were forced to ride in barred wagons. "We can handle them from here, my Lord," Benjen stated before turning around in his saddle, "Yoren. Get this lot to Castle Black and start sorting them out."
"Aye, First Ranger," one of the men in black, Yoren Nox guessed, nudged his horse forward. "Alright, you lot! We're not done yet! So, get up off yer asses and let's get walking. Your new home and your new brothers at the Wall await ya."
Moving off to the side, Nox watched dispassionately as the soon-to-be brothers of the Night's Watch and those guarding them detached themselves from the rest of the convoy and began following Yoren and most of the other Black brothers towards the Wall and Castle Black. Once they were well on their way, Ned turned around and faced the rest of them. "All of you get some rest," he said loudly. "We wait two days. And then we head to Eastwatch and board the Sea Wolf to head North to Hardhome."
Those that'd traveled with them quickly dispersed into Mole's Town looking for a place to lay their heads for the next few nights. 'Shouldn't be a difficult task,' Nox thought as he watched the residents of the town quickly move to offer their homesteads in exchange for coin or anything else of value. 'This is probably the largest influx of people this town has seen in a long time. I would've been surprised if they didn't try to milk everything of value out of us during our stay.'
As Ned and the boys started heading into the town with Benjen, Nox felt the lightest of touches from the Force on his mind. Stopping in his tracks, Nox turned towards the massive structure as he pushed back, causing the light touch to flee instantly. 'Interesting,' he thought as he noticed Jon's and Robb's steps falter for a moment as his young apprentice and acolyte turned their attention towards the Wall. 'That was a controlled probe. But with the Wall muddling just about any sensory capabilities from the Force…I cannot tell who it came from…But it definitely came from Castle Black.' Smiling, Nox followed the Starks to try and find a place to lay his head for the night. 'Well, this little stop certainly became much more interesting, hasn't it?'
When Jon had been a boy before Master Nox had arrived, he had thought on more than one occasion that the Black would be his future. After all, what other future could one such as he have besides a guardsman or a Black Brother? And the fact that the North was full of tales saying that there was much honor in joining the Night's Watch, of being part of something bigger than yourself, had indeed been tempting. But now that he was standing in the famed Castle Black and now that he was watching those who called themselves the 'Black Brothers' mill around the yard? Well, he found himself more than a little underwhelmed.
For one, calling Castle Black a 'castle' was a bit of a misconception. A castle or keep implied a well-fortified series of buildings. The only defense Castle Black truly had was the Wall itself to the north as there were no actual Walls surrounding it to the east, west or south. Instead, Castle Black consisted of multiple stone towers and timber keeps that had paths both above and below ground joining them together. There was the Lord Commander's Tower, the King's Tower where most of the lords of the North and South were being put up for the night. Another tall tower that was nearly as tall as the Sorcerer's Tower in Winterfell, though even then the tallest tower in Castle Black only managed to reach a third of the way up the Wall at best. Then there was another tower that had a very poor excuse for a battlement that looked over the training yard, and two other towers that looked sturdy, but were starting to show signs of age. And nestled against the Wall was a strange contraption that was like a carriage attached to a winch that could carry people to the top of the Wall.
'And to think…for a very brief time I was certain that this was my future,' Jon thought, looking around Castle Black with a critical eye. It wasn't that he now suddenly held the Watch with disdain. No, he was still a man of the North, and he knew the importance of the Night's Watch, even if almost all of those in the South had forgotten. But rather it was now that he had been out into the world, he knew that there was far more out there for one such as he.
'Enough sightseeing, Jon,' he chided himself as he forced himself to keep moving slowly through Castle Black. 'You have a job to do.'
Shortly after they'd arrived in Mole's Town the day prior, Jon had felt something strange brush up against him. And it hadn't been just him, Robb had sensed it as well. It was something Force related, like one of the probes that he had begun feeling his Master send his way from time to time to test his defenses. But unlike his master's probes, this was incredibly…amateurish. And as soon as Jon had reacted to the probe by trying to find its source, it all but disappeared, leaving him in the dark. He'd tried to send out his own probe through the Force, but as soon as he did, he discovered something else incredibly strange. The Wall it…muddled the Force. He didn't know why, but whenever he tried to use the Force to survey his surroundings, the closer he got to the Wall the harder it was to be successful. His other Force abilities were still just as they were, he could levitate objects as easily as he could back in Winterfell. But for some reason his ability to sense his surroundings was lessened the closer he got to the Wall. Out of curiosity, he'd tried to sense beyond the Wall…and immediately regretted that decision. It was like physically running headfirst into the Wall. He'd learned his lesson quickly. So, without really being able to use the Force to sense anything more than a few feet around him, he was stuck walking through the entirety of Castle Black, trying to find just who it was that he'd felt the day before.
Making his way along what passed for a wooden pathway, Jon felt a quick spike from the Force, like the one he felt the day before. And just like last time, the moment he reacted to the presence, it quickly retreated. But unlike the day prior, this time Jon was ready for it, and much closer to the source so that the Wall, while still hindering his ability to sense anything beyond the immediate space around him, couldn't hide whoever it was completely from him. 'Got you,' he thought victoriously as he turned towards a small squat tower that was situated near the outskirts of Castle Black. 'A rockery,' Jon realized as he saw a raven fly into the upper part of the squat tower. 'A Maester? This should prove to be interesting.'
Glancing around to make sure that there were no prying eyes, Jon palmed his lightsaber that was hanging on his belt and reached out to open the door – only to have the door seemingly open on its own. "Egg…Is that you, Egg?"
Blinking, Jon slowly walked through the opened door, his eyes searching for the source of the raspy voice. What he found both surprised and confused Jon. The source of the Force presence he'd been feeling was coming from an old man, the oldest Jon had ever seen in his life. The man was bald save for a few wisps of snow-white hair still clinging to his head. And he wore a thick black cloak that he had tightly clutched in his fist, no doubt trying to stave off the cold. And around his neck he wore the chains of a Maester, but unlike any other Maester he'd seen, this man had more chain links than Jon ever thought possible.
"Egg?" The old man called out again, and only then did Jon realize the man was blind as his snow-white eyes passed right over Jon several times. "Egg…I–Is that you?"
Letting go of his lightsaber, Jon entered the room fully and shut the door behind him to keep the cold out. "I'm sorry, ser," he said, drawing a sharp look from the man. "My name is not 'Egg'. My name is Jon Stark."
"Stark?" the old man questioned, his head tilting to the side. "But that – Your voice sounds just – oh. That's right. So much time has passed. Forgive an old man. My mind is…not what it once was. And your voice and your…well, you just reminded me so much of my long-lost brother Egg that my mind wandered without thought. But a Stark you say? But that could – oh, I see. So, your father was indeed as foolish as I feared."
Jon felt his anger flare and the Force responded to his anger. "My father is Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell. And he is no fool, old man."
The old man seemed completely nonplussed as he calmly withstood the wave that was Jon's anger through the Force. "I see," the old man sighed, shaking his head. "I didn't want to believe that your sire was as foolish as the tales say. But it appears that he succumbed to his own madness. But despite how you may have come to be, it warms my soul to know that our line has not ended."
Jon was thrown completely on the back foot. 'He…He can't know. He's…He's just a Maester at the Wall. There is no way that…Wait…Just who is this man?' "Who are you, maester?"
The old man smiled and waved his hand in a quick cut across his chest. In response, the lock on the door slid shut and the lone shutter that was open closed and locked. "I am merely a Maester and a member of the Night's Watch to those who would seek our family harm," the old man answered cryptically before rising to his feet and walking towards Jon with the sure steps of a man half his age. "But to you, to a member of family which I will not hold secrets from, I am Aemon Targaryen. Your great-uncle on your sire's side."
"A Targaryen?" Jon breathed. His thoughts so jumbled in his mind that he was having difficulty telling up from down.
"Aye," his great-uncle nodded before reaching out with a hand and patting him on his shoulder. "I'm sure that this is not easy for you, son. Please, sit. Let us talk. But first, throw a log on the fire. These old bones of mine are not quite as sure as they once were."
Jon hadn't even realized he'd moved to do as the old man asked until he could feel the heat of the fire against his knuckles as he placed a log onto the low burning fire in the room. Taking a seat across from the old maester, Jon found he still had no idea where to begin. "I – don't know what to say."
"Then let us start with something easy," Maester Aemon smiled toothlessly as he held out a hand and with a twitch of his finger, brought a thick blanket over to wrap around his legs.
"You can use the Force," Jon stated, his mind finally starting to right itself.
"The Force? Yes, I do believe that is the term that I have heard from those who've come to join the Watch in recent years." Aemon nodded. "A term your Master Nox brought to this land. For me, it has always just been magic. Granted, it has only really shown itself in the past ten years or so. But magic was the best term I could use to define what I can do."
Jon felt himself smirking. "'Magic' is an oversimplification of the Force and it's capabilities. I doubt that mere magic like we once knew would allow you to see even though your eyes no longer see. Nor move as well as you do despite your age, Maester Aemon."
The old Maester smiled and gave a sharp laugh. "Ha, you're the first to truly notice in years. Yes. I have been scrounging for every scrap of information I can get about your Master Nox ever since word reached the Watch of his arrival and the gifts he's brought to the North. Perhaps…you could entertain an old man and tell me? Is he a descendent from the Dragon Lords? Just as we are?"
Jon's mind immediately went to what he knew of his master's past and the fact that there was life beyond their own amongst the stars. "I'm sorry, Maester Aemon. My Master's past is his own to tell. Not mine."
Aemon stared sightlessly at him. It was the same stare Jon was used to getting from his Master. "Your loyalty to him is indeed great. But now that we have asked the easy questions, perhaps it is time for you to ask that which you truly wish to know? While it might seem unlikely, I can perhaps provide you the answer that you've been seeking."
There was only one question Jon truly wanted an answer to, now that he knew just who his mother and sire were. "Why?" Jon asked simply, feeling his stomach rise into his throat. "Why did he…? Why did he do that to my mother? Why did everything go wrong?"
Frowning, Aemon rearranged his blanket, so it was better covering his legs. "Have you heard the old saying about whenever a Targaryen is born? They say that every time a new Targaryen is born, the gods will toss a coin in the air; one side madness and the other greatness. And the world holds its breath to see how it will land. Your sire, there were many that thought that his coin landed on the side of greatness. I too thought thusly. Over the years he would write to me, the first in many, many years to do so. At first, I saw what everyone else saw. The next great King of Westeros. But as time went on, and especially after the fragility of his wife became known, I started to see that which others were denying was there. Madness, born of obsession. Your sire became obsessed with the tale of the 'Prince Who was Promised' and the return of the great enemy of man. At first, he believed himself to be the Promised Prince. But as time wore on and there was no sign of the great enemy the Prince was said to be destined to face, his obsession changed. He no longer believed himself to be the Prince-Who-was-Promised. But rather he believed that the Prince would come from him. And that the Prince would need to be Aegon the Conqueror Reborn, with his sister-wives fighting by his side. Sister-wives that he feared his current wife would never be able to provide him with."
"So, he sought another wife," Jon added, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees.
"Aye, he did," Aemon nodded sadly. "And quickly enough, he decided on one, your mother."
His statement took Jon aback. "But he never even met my mother until Harrenhal."
"True. And it was after meeting her at Harrenhal that he decided that she was indeed the one that he needed." Aemon sighed. "But he knew of your mother well before either stepped foot into that keep. The only daughter of House Stark, descendants from the Kings of Winter, the last known line to face against the great enemy of man. And he also reasoned in his mind that by marrying your mother, he would be satisfying the Pact of Ice and Fire and appease the gods both old and new."
Furrowing his brow, Jon thought back on his history around the Dance of Dragons. "But the Pact of Ice and Fire was for a Targaryen Princess to marry into the line of Starks, not the other way around."
"Your sire's obsession made him blind to that point, even after I pointed the same to him," Aemon sighed. "But last word I had from him said that your mother agreed with stipulations. I do not know what happened to alter what was between them though. But whatever it was brought about the downfall of House Targaryen. And I hope that you will humor an old blind man in helping him understand just what went wrong, and why his family was brought to the edge of extinction, and why the last remaining relative he has refuses half of his heritage."
Jon wasn't sure what to tell the old man. Jon had learned the hard way that the truth only brought pain. He could lie and spare the old man some sorrow. But he knew that any lie he told him would immediately be recognized. So, he told the truth. Or as much as he knew of it. "My mother tried to send word explaining her actions before she left with…my sire." Jon said, still refusing to consider Prince Rhaegar his father. "But that word either never reached her family or was misunderstood. Either way, my uncle and grandfather went before King Aerys and demanded Rhaegar show himself and explain his actions, and both were executed for treason against the crown. When word reached my mother about what happened, she wanted to return to her family and correct the wrong that her actions had brought. But Rhaegar…He refused to let her go. And he…he took her again and again by force until I was conceived. And then he rode off to put down the Rebellion. Leaving my mother alone with little to no aid in the middle of the desert with only the Kingsguard as company. My mother…She died bringing me into this world. And with her last breath, she begged my father, Eddard Stark, to raise me as one of his own and protect me from all those who would seek to either use me or bring harm to me."
Aemon seemed to sag and age before his very eyes as his worst fears were confirmed. "I see…So, the coin did indeed land on the side of madness. I had held out hope for so long that it was not so… But now..."
"I'm sorry," Jon said, lowering his eyes.
"You have nothing to apologize for, Jon. You were but a babe, not even born yet when all these troubles came to pass." Maester Aemon replied. "And while we might wish things differently, we cannot change the past. We can only learn from the mistakes of the past and strive not to make them once more."
Aemon's old frame began shuttering as the old man started coughing uncontrollably. Rising immediately to his feet, Jon placed a hand on the old man's shoulder to support him while using is off hand to wordlessly summon a cup of water through the Force to himself.
"Thank you, Jon." Aemon coughed, taking the offered cup and taking a few sips before breathing deep. "This cold air…It can and has killed even the heartiest of men. And I am far from my prime."
"You still have many a year left in you…uncle," Jon said, testing the word on his lips and finding that calling the old man by the title did not bring him anger like he thought it might. "And with the aid of the Force, you might have more than you think."
The old Maester gave him a toothless smile. "I am not your master, Jon Stark. But…mayhap I could still have a few years left in me. At least enough to see one more winter come to these lands." Aemon quieted as Jon felt his old hand on his own. "I wonder, my boy…Might you grant an old man one more request? I can see you through the Force but…but it is not the same. Might I…know your face?"
Jon saw Aemon's hand twitch towards his face to emphasize his words. "Aye, Uncle Aemon," Jon nodded while kneeling moving to guide the old man's hand to his jaw. "You have our family's jaw and eyes," Aemon said, his fingers gently wandering around Jon's face. "I can see through this power you have, but I cannot tell much. Tell me, what is your coloring?"
"My mother's," Jon answered without hesitation.
"Then it has served you well to hide you against those who seek our family harm," Aemon sighed, letting his hands fall. "I sense…so much anger in you. So much anger, buried deep beneath the surface. Anger at your sire. Anger at your grandfather for the madness that consumed him. And anger at the world for the station you found yourself in. Time may have dulled your anger, but it is still there. Festering beneath the surface like an infected wound. I wonder, might you humor an old man and listen to my advice?"
"Of course, Maester," Jon nodded. Was it any wonder as to why he harbored such anger towards the one who sired him and the one who killed his grandfather and uncle in such a brutal and unjust way?
Smiling, Aemon patted his cheek. "This is the same counsel that I gave my brother Egg before we parted for the last time. The Great Council had just named him King and he was set to ascend the Iron Throne. He was a man grown with children, yet in many ways still just a boy. 'Kill the boy within you', I told him. 'It takes a man to rule. An Aegon, not an Egg. Kill the boy and let the man be born'. You may not rule from the Iron Throne, but I see that one day you will indeed rule in your own way. You are more than half the age that Egg was, but I can see that your life will not be an easy one. And it is not a life that a boy will be able to traverse. So, kill the boy, Jon Stark. End this boyish hatred you hold in your heart at your sire and his father. The past is the past and the ink is dry. We cannot change what happened. So do not let your anger at their actions hinder your future. Remember what they did so that you do not make the same mistake. But do not paint all your ancestors with the same brush. Remember not only the bad times of our family but remember the good as well."
Jon was struck by the weight of the Maester's words. His Master and father had both told him something similar in the past, but for some reason hearing the words from his oldest living relative just seemed to give the words far more weight than they once held. "Thank you…Uncle Aemon." Jon said lowly, rising to his feet. "If there is anything I can do…?"
"Live," Aemon smiled, turning his sightless eyes towards Jon. "Live for our family, Jon Stark."
Pausing near the exit, Jon debated on whether to tell the old Maester his true name. In the end, he decided that there wasn't any harm in a lone brother of the Night's Watch knowing his secret. Especially seeing as how the man was, as he said, family. "My name… The name my mother gave me. Is Jaehaerys Stark. And after we are done with the Wildlings…I would like to call upon you once more, uncle."
Aemon grinned toothlessly as he leaned his head back and stared upwards. "A good name, Jaehaerys Stark. I look forward to talking to you again when you and your father finish with what needs to be done north of the Wall."
Nodding, Jon quietly opened the door to the Maester's quarters and stepped out – and almost ran head long into Master Nox who was standing just slightly beyond the doorway, leaning on what passed for a banister. "Find what you need, Apprentice?"
Doing what he could to calm his racing heart and not show that his Master once again managed to surprise him, Jon nodded. "Aye, my Master."
Nox nodded as Jon felt his master's eyes through the Force pass over him. "You're lighter than you were before you stepped foot in this place."
"I feel lighter than I did before, Master," Jon nodded, his head turning to look back at Maester Aemon's quarters once more. "It's time for me to kill the boy, Master. Move past what held me back before. And accept who I am."
"And who are you?"
Swallowing, Jon cast a look around to make sure there were no unwanted ears nearby. "I am Jaehaerys Stark, Apprentice to Darth Nox of the North. And while it might not be safe for me to go by that name yet. It is who I am. And I will no longer hide from myself."
"About time, apprentice," his Master nodded, a smirk upon his face. "Though I do trust that you will take caution when trying to hatch the egg you procured from our little expedition. You might be able to hide your name until you are ready. But the creature you brought back will wait for no man once it is hatched."
Ever since she and her brother had been forced to flee Braavos after the death of Ser Willem Darry, Dany had been to nearly every Free City in Essos with her brother Viserys as the two did their best to stay ahead of the assassins her brother said were being sent after them by the Usurper Robert Baratheon and his mad dogs. They'd been to Myr, Tyrosh, Qohor, Volantis and Lys. And now she could add Norvos to the list. 'Though I fear that our stay here will not be long.' Dany thought with a tired sigh as she walked along the path that lined the small garden in the estate that her and her brother were currently residing at. 'Lady Mellario made it quite clear to us that while she will house us for a time, it will not be for long. If word were to reach the Usurper that she gave aid to my brother and I, then she fears that the Usurper would take it out on her children still living in Dorne. And now with our time here possibly running short…I have yet to ask the one question of her that is burning in my soul. The question that was raised by my only friend…Jon. Jon Stark…son of the Usurper's Dog.'
She wanted to hate him for who he was, for the deception he laid upon her by not telling her his name. But she just…couldn't. She couldn't hate him. No matter how hard she'd tried, no matter how many times she told herself that he was her enemy, she couldn't hate him. Every time she tried to force herself to hate him, she remembered the shy boy her age she ran into in Volantis. Of the care that shown in his eyes when he tried to help her before Viserys pulled her away from him. She remembered all the times that came after that when she would see him in her dreams, or sometimes when she was awake when she would spot him in the corner of her eye only to have him disappear the moment she tried to find him. Then she remembered when they started talking to one another. Of how he tried to explain what was happening to them and how he was trying to help her. Him. A Stark. The first person to try and help her outside of her brother since they were forced to flee the house with the red door.
'Was it all a lie?' She thought, only to immediately dismiss it. 'No. There was no lie in him. I don't know how I know…but I know that Jon wasn't lying to me when he told me his name and what he knew of the Usurper's rise to the Iron Throne. My family's throne. But what he said…It goes against everything Viserys has said. Could my brother have…Could he have lied to me? Is that…Is that why I'm so afraid of asking Lady Mellario such a simple question? Is it that…I don't want to know the truth?'
"Is there something you need of me, Daenerys Targaryen?"
Daenerys had been so focused on her own inner turmoil that the path she'd been walking had faded from her sight and she'd ended up mindlessly wandering into Lady Mellario's private gazebo in the middle of her estate. Lady Mellario was sitting in the shade, a cup of tea in her hand while her lone guard stood behind her. Dany had been stunned, to say the least, when she and her brother arrived in Norvos only for him to immediately bring them to the exact person Jon had told her to try and find. She wasn't sure just what type of reception her brother was hoping to have received when they arrived at the manor, but the frosty and almost hostile reaction from Lady Mellario to their presence was clearly not it. At first Dany was afraid that the Lady Mellario would turn them away immediately, but after exchanging a few words with her brother, Lady Mellario stated that she would give them shelter for a sennight before sending them on their way.
Viserys was not happy about the decision, and she was afraid Lady Mellario had 'awoken the dragon' within her brother. But, surprisingly to her, Viserys accepted the offer. Though he did so with the parting words that he would remember her actions when he claims what was promised to him. Dany wasn't sure just what he'd meant by that. But by the look on Lady Mellario's face, she clearly did. And Dany knew then and there that, just like many times before, her brother's temper had cost them a place to stay.
"Are you going to stand there with your head in the clouds all day, Daenerys? Or are you going to join me for tea?"
"I apologize, Lady Mellario," Dany said, bowing her head. Honestly, she wanted to do nothing more than flee from the frosty glare of the woman. But as a guest she knew that she had no recourse to deny the request to join her. "I would…enjoy a cup of tea."
Being careful to remember the proper etiquette that was expected of her, Dany gracefully took the seat across the table from Lady Mellario. Wordlessly, Lady Mellario picked up a porcelain tea kettle and poured her a cup of steaming tea. Having never really had much tea in her life, Dany was taken slightly aback by the rich smell coming from the kettle. "I take it by your expression that you have not had the pleasure of indulging in tea from Yi Ti?"
"No, Lady Mellario," Dany answered, staring at the green colored tea in her cup as her host moved a few other dishes towards her that contained various herbs.
"Traditionally, one would not add anything to the tea. But if the taste is too bitter for you, feel free to add honey. Or, if you wish to add to the flavor, I have some mint, lemon, and basil if you desire."
"Thank you," Dany said, carefully picking up the offered cup and taking a sip. The tea wasn't nearly as hot as she'd expected it to be. But the taste, by the gods, she had to fight back the urge to down the entire cup immediately! She'd never tasted anything so wonderful in her entire life!
"Drink it slowly, girl," Lady Mellario chided her. "That tea is not cheap."
Swallowing what was in her mouth, Dany tried to drink the tea at a much slower pace. "Apologies, Lady Mallerio."
Lady Mellario waved off her concern as she leaned back and sipped her own tea in silence. Holding her cup in her hand, Dany glanced around the garden, wondering if by chance her brother was anywhere nearby. 'He's…He's not around. Should…? No. I need to ask her now. Before Viserys comes back. If he finds out I'm asking about what happened during the Rebellion…I will awaken the dragon once more.'
"If you are looking for your brother, he is not here," Lady Mellario said, answering Dany's unasked question. "He's taken some of the gold that I gifted you two and is currently entertaining himself with whatever whores he can find."
Dany tried her best to hide her wince at what her brother was currently up to. "My brother…He is under a lot of pressure and needs to do what he can to relieve the tension." Dany said, trying to explain her brother's actions using the same reason Viserys had given her the only time she'd ever brought up his whoring. She'd awakened the dragon that day and had garnered a blackened eye and no food in her belly for a full day because of it. And since then, she had not sought to stand in the way of her brothers…stress relief.
Lady Mellerio just scoffed. "Your brother wouldn't know pressure or stress or responsibility if it came up and bit him in the ass. That coin I gifted you two, if used correctly, will last you for years even after you leave my home. But with your brother's atrocious decision-making abilities and spending habits, you will be lucky if it lasts beyond a single moon's turn."
Dany wanted to argue back that her brother was the true King of Westeros and that he indeed knew his responsibilities…but the words died on her tongue before she could give them voice. As much as she wanted to protest what Lady Mellario was saying about her brother, a part of Dany agreed with her. Not that she would ever say it out loud. So instead, she just held her tongue on the topic.
Sighing, Lady Mellario set her cup down and looked Dany right in the eye. "Tell me, girl. Do you know why your brother brought you here to me?"
"Because…you are married to Prince Doran Martell of Dorne."
"That is correct," Lady Mellario nodded. "Your brother hoped to leverage something that might happen in the future into forcing me to give you two aid. But 'might' is not 'definite.' Honestly, given what I've seen, it's something I do not wish to see come to fruition. And it is also because I am the wife of Prince Doran and the mother to his children that I was tempted to throw you both out on your ear. Should word reach back to Westeros and King Robert that I am giving you two aid, then he will take it out on my children."
"I understand, Lady Mellario," Dany nodded sadly. "And I, appreciate the aid you are giving my brother and I, despite the risks to you and your family."
Lady Mellario just kept staring at her with a hard look. "The only reason I didn't throw both of you out is because of you girl."
"Me?" Dany gaped, no one had ever really put her before her brother before.
"Yes, you," Lady Mellario nodded. "I only met your mother once, but she was a wonderful woman. She deserved a far better fate than the one given to her. And you, girl, you remind me so much of your mother. And I could not in good conscience send you on your way without at least giving you some help. But…now that you've been a guest of mine for a few days I've started to notice something about you. Each time we cross paths, you look as if you're about to say something but then you back down. Sometimes because your brother is within the room. Or other times because you lose your nerve. Well, no more. Your brother is not here, and I will not let you go till you say what is on your mind, girl."
Setting her tea down, as she feared she would no longer be able to hold it with how much her hand was shaking. Dany breathed in deeply as she tried to get the words out. "I… IwanttoknowwhathappenedduringtheUsurper'sRebellionagainstmyfamily." She said in a rush of words that even she could barely comprehend.
Even though the words were mostly clumped together, Lady Mellario clearly heard her as her frown increased tenfold. "Surely, you already know everything that happened."
Trying to calm her breath, Dany forced herself to press on. "Viserys…He told me what happened. How Lyanna Stark seduced my brother and how the other Lords of the Realm rose up in an unlawful rebellion against the crown. That the Usurper and his dogs slaughtered the Royal Family. How a Kingsguard stabbed our father in the back. And how we must continue running to stay ahead of the Usurper's knives lest we join our family in death. But lately I have…heard a different version of what happened. And you, Lady Mellario, you were in Westeros during the Uprising. I just…I just want to know what happened."
Lady Mellario seemed to debate on whether to speak or not. "I can tell you what I know of the Rebellion. Of what is now recorded as history. But I must warn you, while the rebels did indeed commit some heinous acts during the war, so too did your family. Are you sure you wish to know this?"
"I am," Dany replied, her voice sounding far surer than she felt. "I want—no, I need—to know what happened. Please it's…It's important to me."
Lady Mellario nodded and picked up her teacup once more. "Very well, Daenerys Targaryen. I will tell you what I know of the Rebellion and the cause of the downfall of your family."
The sun had just begun to set by the time Lady Mellario finished her tale of the Rebellion. And as impossible as it seemed, her version of what happened matched up almost perfectly with Jon's, rather than her brother's. 'It was all a lie,' Dany wanted to scream as tears of betrayal began falling down her face. 'All my life…Everyone has been telling me that the fall of our family was because of others' greed and betrayal. But that…that wasn't the case at all. My father…My brother. They caused the downfall of our family with their actions. My father went mad and started butchering and burning anyone and everyone who gave him even the slightest of reasons to suspect they slighted him. And my brother…He either ran off or kidnapped Lyanna Stark and didn't ever try to reason with the Starks about what happened to her. Which only makes him sound guilty of the crimes they accused him of. Gods…I don't…I…The people hate us…We won't…We can't ever return…I'll never see my ho – home again.'
Unable to hold it in any longer, tears burst forth from Dany's eyes as she buried her face in her hands and cried. Dany nearly jumped as she felt a soft touch upon her head. Picking her head up from her hands, she saw Lady Mellario standing before her. The hard look that'd been a constant in her eyes ever since they'd arrived was gone, replaced by one of sympathy. "I am sorry, my dear. But I told you that it would not be an easy tale for you to hear."
Nodding, Dany did her best to fight back against the tears. "My brother, he – he said that the people of Westeros raise secret toasts to our safe return to the Throne. Another lie?"
"Some may," Lady Mellario shrugged, retaking her seat. "But they are far outnumbered by those who curse your family or those who are indifferent unless you can give them something they do not already have. Be it coin or power. But those three categories only describe those in power. Let me tell you a secret that many a highborn refuses to believe about those beneath us. They do not care who sits in power, nor do they care for the games nobles play. To them, it only means their blood and the blood of their loved ones. As long as a family is safe, has coin, and can put food and drink on the table, they care not for who sits in some gaudy chair or who wears what crown."
Part of her wanted to protest that what she said wasn't true, but in her heart she knew it was. While her and her brother had been on the run, she never really cared about who was in control of which city they were staying in. All she cared about was that she had a roof over her head and food in her belly. "What do I do now?" she asked, broken and lost.
"That is completely up to you, Daenerys," Lady Mellario answered. "You can crawl into a hole of pity and let yourself fade into the nothingness of time. Or you can do as your Dragon Lord ancestors of old did. You can take what power you have, and create a new life for yourself."
'But I don't have any power,' she thought despondently. Only to sharply draw herself up short. 'No. I do have a power. And…And I have someone who can help me. I only pray to the gods above that Jon will be able to help me.'
