Winterfell – Westeros
Catelyn Stark, trained and studied for years to prepare herself to become the Lady of a Warden's Keep. Though her original match fell at the hands of the Mad King, she cannot say that she is disappointed with Ned. She shivered when a rather chilling wind blew across the lord's balcony, nearly two years in the north, she was only now experiencing what her husband calls, the last howling winds of winter. That summer was coming, but winter was going to drag as many souls as it could into The Stranger's embrace. She pulled her thick cloak tighter around her to fend off the early morning chill. It was not pleasant, but she would endure for her family.
Her sleep was disturbed when her husband left the bed. Unable to fall back to slumber, she watched the late sun rise over Winterfell. The sound of fighting in one of the nearest courtyards made her frown. Both the Flints and the so-called "Tiger Lords" have been staying in Winterfell for almost a week now. She strained her eyes to see the gathering crowd below. The Flints were enamoured with them, and Catelyn could even see the servants of their House had dropped by the courtyard in the middle of their morning duties to see the outsiders spar with both Starkmen and the Flints.
While she mentioned her counsel to Ned in private, even he seemed to believe their talk of a passageway to another land within the Northern Mountains. Catelyn's face twisted in distaste when the onlookers cried out in both delight and surprise at the sight of first blood between a Tiger Lord woman and a brawny Flint.
It certainly did not help that some of the Flints have already travelled through it and explored the land around it. Tales of a windsheared land and creatures made of fire and ice, and of men only two feet taller than her Robb. Even a half-man that is the lord of the land, men and women into battle against hordes of brutes from land-locked slaver nation.
A hushed silence fell over the courtyard when one of the Tiger Lords' hands glows with white light. He placed it upon the wounded Flint and injury healed before the eyes of the crowd. Catelyn muttered a prayer to the Seven at the sight of it.
Magic.
According to the Flints, it was a combination of magic and steel that gave both them and the Tiger Lords an edge against the dozens of trolls that stole from the goat herders up in the mountains. To the Tiger Lords, the magic that man was using was a gift from his faith in his god, Gorum.
Heathen gods that give out magic to their followers.
May the Seven watch over her family and her husband so they do not get swept up in the idea of following such a heathen practice. The Flints, though stubborn in their belief of the Old Gods, wanted to hear tales surrounding this "Lord in Iron".
Her husband entered their shared bedchambers, taking away her thoughts of the heresy in the North's future. "Ned?" Catelyn asked.
He jumped at the sound of her voice. "I had hoped that you would still be in bed."
Catelyn huffed. "You have always been the first thing I notice when I open my eyes." The size difference between them, makes it very hard to not notice the shifting in the weight of their bed. "What news did they bring that woke you?" She asked.
Ned did not speak immediately, but Catelyn knew to wait. He needed to find the right words to say, though this made her slightly apprehensive about what he would say.
"The scouts returned from the trail the Flints showed on the map. There is a-a doorway of sorts." The hope in her heart that all this talk was falsehood died. "From what the scouts could see from around the cavern, the land is bare-faced hills and rocks leading into the mountains. They were hesitant to get closer, but they all reported a feeling while in the area." He sighed. "It hasn't stopped the Tiger Lords from describing the land beyond it."
All though the talk of the doorway to a land that bears no feature of The North had been confirmed, Catelyn was worried.
"Apparently, a third of the kingdom is fertile farmland. The seasons even last only four months at the most." Ned mentioned.
Besides the ever-growing fear in her heart that a magical portal lies only two days ride from her home, Ned is looking as if-No. "Please do not tell me that you wish to parley with the foreign land yourself. You were almost wounded in the fight with those creatures. Your son is barely more than a babe-he needs his father."
"I need to see this land for myself, wife." At Ned's words, Catelyn practically reached out to grab him by the collar, but stopped short. Before she could pull her hands back to her side, Ned reaches out and grasps them with his own. The rough callouses of his fingers soothingly rubbed the soft skin of her hands. His hand gently glides down the length of her forearm to her waist as he gently guides her to the bed as they both sit down.
"I would not be the Warden of the North, if I did not investigate these matters myself." Ned started, but stopped when he looked at her. What Catelyn wanted to say was that it was dangerous to travel to an unknown region filled with unknown danger, something equal to or greater hazard than the trolls her husband and men struggled with in the Wolfswood. That their son needed their father in these times of peace after the Rebellion. But it was not her place to say, she was his wife not his advisor.
Yet seeing him all but ready to leave his seat when one of his vassals could do it in his stead, brought forth the words that Catelyn had heard from many Northerners with Winterfell. Softly, she said, "There must always be-" she paused, pulling herself together to stand firm in front of her Lord. "-A Stark at Winterfell." Ned looks into her eyes, and the firm lines in his face soften.
"You are right." He sighs. "Let me call upon my brother Benjen from the Wall. Together, I can trust you both-" Catelyn kept her surprise off her face, -"to look after Winterfell in my stead. I will only leave to speak with this ruler face to face, until then, I will trust the men sworn to me."
It was not what she would like, but it was far better than what Ned would have done. With softness in his voice he then added, "Thank you for your counsel my Lady." Catelyn gave him a small smile. She was proud to offer her husband sound advice. She leaned her head upwards and kissed Ned. It was nothing more than a peck on the lips, and it was not the first or even their most passionate. However, Ned kissed her back and in that small meeting of their lips, a small spark fluttered between them.
After their brief kiss ended Ned said, "I will request that House Glover send an envoy through the portal to meet the lord the governs the-Glenebon," Ned rolls the word on his tongue, a foreign thing that he has not seen or heard. He continues, "If Lord Glover has his brother lead the party, they should be able to meet with a vassal of this Sorrowlands King."
At the mention of the foreign king, Catelyn asks, "Did the Tiger Lords tell you anything about this king?"
"Only that he was fiendish devil that throws lighting from his hands while the Great Amiri cut down any that tried to get close to him." Ned sighed. "Despite their tales of this Amiri, there is many mentions of the man fighting at her side along with others."
From what Catelyn knows in the history of men, any man glorified on the battlefield is a concern. From Daemon Blackfyre to Robert Baratheon, prowess in battle can mean everything and nothing. She could only hope that he was not skilled in The Game as well as war.
"At least with the rather short distance between us and the portal, we should receive news in a week or less." He remarked.
Catelyn's mind runs rampant at the thought of invaders lead but giant-like brutes assailing Winterfell itself. Catelyn pushed down her anxiousness. "That is not a lot of time."
Ned nodded sullenly. "It is not."
With those words, Catelyn leaned closer to her husband, taking what comfort she could from her thoughts in his embrace.
Broine – Sorrowlands – Golarion
Waking up, Pelliaos felt an absence of warmth between his arms. He opened his eyes to see the morning light filtering through the curtains. He rises up from the bed as he stretches his arms above his head. Feeling the satisfying pull on his arms and back, he leaves the bed as a refreshing coolness rolls across his body. With a skip in his step as he made his way over to the window and took a deep breathe of morning air. High above the gardens, far from the flowers, grass and bushes, the scent of mildew and spring tickle him as if in was in the middle of the courtyard.
"I can hear the gossip of the coming days among the castle staff." A melodic drawl rang out behind him, "the king's scepter lording above the castle grounds, waving upon the masses."
Pelliaos turned around to face the woman behind him, his cheeks warming. He had forgotten that he was still naked. "They can surely be other things for them to talk about."
"Gossip is a constant, especially about those in power. A ruler must maintain their dignity even upon the first light of day." The woman gently chided him, though amusement coloured her tone.
"I will dress when leave our quarters." His arms snaked around her body. "Besides they've been busy swooning over-"caressing the small growing bump on the woman's stomach, "-this? As far as many people are concerned, it is far more important than my magic staff."
The woman laughed, a tinkling tither in his ears. "That it is." She stated, her green hands resting upon his over their growing child. The tiefling pulled nymph closer, his chin resting between the soft thistles on her shoulder. "Especially in these times of peace." Nyrissa sighs. Pelliaos breathes in, his nose buried against his wife's shoulder, the morning sunlight warming her body as he took in the scent of wildflowers and dew.
Peace. A strange thought, in the Age of Lost Omens. From the sealing of Worldwound, the century love storm of the Eye of Abendgo, and the Whispering Tyrant was halted from its path of divinity by a group of adventurers. The world remains the same, but how did he change?
Or was he still a wandering sellsword from the coast of the Steaming Sea, where rooms quiet the moment he steps through the doors. The topic of hushed conversations, or a sign of a pending cultist attack. Only needed to fight or guard, but pushed out the moment the job was done.
His wife leans her head back, Nyrissa's cheek rubbing against his own. His focus shifted from thoughts of the past to the woman in his arms. Her deep blue eyes peering directly into his own. The nymph's mouth formed a thin, firm line. She spoke, "You are not needed my Spring. You are wanted. By the people of this land, by your allies and friends, and by me and our child."
Her words were unyielding, and Pelliaos could not find fault in them. So instead, he whispered "Thank you."
Her face melts, her smile small but wide with reassurance. "I will say them everyday till the day I pass from this world."
Pelliaos brow rose in confusion. Did she misspeak? "You meant when I pass from this world?" He questioned.
"No." Nyrissa states matter of fact.
No, there was no reason to think back to what he was before. Here was a king, a husband, and soon to be father. All gained through a mixture of blood, sweat and a bit of luck. Pelliaos was happy with his life.
Walking through the Castle Saddard, the servants bowed their heads towards the King and his consort.
Head Maid Euriel, who oversaw the maids and butlers for all cleaning for the castle and the surrounding grounds. Chef Corrin Elderberry, who was finishing up the preparations for the evening dinner. The normality of their morning walk from their quarters to the throne room, always gave Pelliaos time to center himself for sitting in a chair for long period of time.
The Stolen Guards open the doors for the royalty and standing at the foot of the pedestal to the throne was the Steward of the castle, Bastion Taillor. An extremely human name for a half-orc. His straw brown hair was combed back, clean shaven and finely dressed as he held his head up with pride. He kneeled when the king approached the throne. His board filled with dozens of papers, letters and scrolls tucked underneath his arm as he waited for the king to take his seat before standing. Pelliaos greeting was accepted with aplomb, and the tiefling knew that today would be one of the longer days.
"With the return of Lady Del Fiorni and Lord Regongar months prior," Bastion stated. "The kingdom has been facing an alarming influx of immigrants of former slaves from Numeria, which is still occupied with dozens of uprisings across the country."
"However," Bastion drawled, "that leads us to a bit of an conundrum. While most use the Sorrowlands as a quick stop before heading further into the River Kingdoms, a vast majority have been settling in villages across Glenebon." Bastion's brow furrowed, his chiselled-down tusks disappearing behind his upper lip. "This is now becoming a problem." His eyes scan the report in his hand as he hands it to the king. "Nearly every province is reporting a rise in crime, most notably by the freed slaves as some of them seem to take far too much fun with their newfound freedom. A few Lords have even reported some attempts at banditry in the more isolated areas."
Nyrissa leaned back on her throne. "And we have been so good at keeping the peace since rebuilding the capital." She sighed.
"Most the lords favour kicking the immigrants out of the kingdom, there is also a standing bounty on captured slaves returned to Numeria." The half-orc stated, though he continued when his highness and Queen-Consort simply waited in flat silence. "Though, the rest of the River Kingdoms won't be thrilled with such action."
An older man scratches his whitening beard in thought. "We could entice the rowdier members to try their hand with their new skills in banditry in Galt or Tymon's arena." His voice took on a velvety tone. "If they are that pent-up with violence, they may as well go someplace where they could put it to good use."
Valerie, regent to the kingdom, spoke her own piece. "I talked with Lady Del Fiorni and Lord Regongar prior to today's meeting, and we may have another solution. They could reach out to the local leaders of free men and women of Numeria. With their help and a little guidance from either the Counsellor and Warden we can help these people adjust to their freedom without causing such widespread unrest."
"I like it but," Pellioas grimaced. "I don't think treasury can afford it. We still haven't recovered after the fallen crusaders tried to raise banners."
Nyrissa pursed her lips. "I've talked with Kanerah, and though she has concerns, the treasury should be able to cover it. As long as we keep quiet about the actually costs of the immigration, we could cover up the strain on the treasury as long as we limit our expenses for the next year to emergencies only."
Pelliaos found that agreeable. They have not had any major issues with taxes in the last few years, Pitax excluded, so it was just a matter of time to refill the country treasury. He declared that they would have their rebellion heroes and the councillor help the former slaves find a place as free people in the country.
Bastion quickly jots down the decision, allowing both Valerie and the Minister to take their leave. He shuffles the papers in his hand, bringing forth the next bit of business for the land. "We actually received something of a letter from the Tiger Lord Chieftain." The half-orc furrowed his brow as he struggled to read the beaten scrap of paper. "Chiefess Hilla sent a report about the disappearing monsters on western borders. She had bands of hunters track them down into the mountains."
The king nods. "Good, trolls have kept their distance since we first wiped them out a few years back. Some villages still bear scars from their last attacks. Best to take care of them before they start causing problems. Make sure to have a good-sized bounty prepared as thanks."
The half-orc continues, "Her trackers will be due back in the next few days and will know more." Bastion shuffles the paper yet again, to the next report. "Now the larger farms of Dunsward have been having issues with food storage-"
Pelliaos kept his face attentive, but fought against the urge to fall back on the throne. It appears that all the interesting reports have passed. It was now time for the boring ones. Maybe he could get lucky and someone could crash into the throne room with dire news?
Of course, this thought did not pass through his mind when he got a letter from the Lord of Glenebon about a portal to another world in the mountains.
A/N
Took a while but here is part two. Due to issues with , I have no idea when people submit comments or reviews, though I would appreciate it if someone could recommend a fix on the user side of things to get the notifications working again. Those of you on Ao3, feel free to leave your comments. Got plans for an A-Plot and B-Plot, though I would be lying if I said the B-Plot was boring.
Don't want to spoil anything, but Westeros is going to break a few rules.
"There has been no sign that the summer is coming. The glass gardens can only provide so much food and with how long it takes for supplies to come from the Riverlands, now with Mallister feuding with Blackwood and Whent, the food will spoil before it is even loaded onto the boats." His shoulders were stiff while he stared Cat in the eye, before folding into himself. "We need to get food soon and we cannot wait for the shipments from the Reach or the Vale. We could lose hundreds of people including Wintertown."
As if someone turned the mountains of the Vale and turned them into hills as if to mock a man's endurance. The wind blows across empty hills and shears their face without the sting of winter.
and the Tiger Lords that guided them have gone ahead for an audience with the local lord. They are seeing if we can stay under his roof.
Apparently, Old Flint was already visiting the local lord. Ned wanted to curse, his mind already seeing the foreigners being insulted by what the southerners call the North's "lack of tack".
Both Bastion and Nyrissa sighed. The war lasted only a few months, but it left many scars across Pitax and Glenebon. Exiled crusaders, with no demons left to fight, tried to raise a banner on Sorrowland's soil. Fighting them was a difficult battle, while the Sorrowlands had numbers, they were almost completely outclassed by skills. Even a former companion of the Knight Commander himself held the banner high as she planted it in the heart of Thousand Breathes mountains.
Nyrissa's fears of family and future, perhaps falling to a degree back to the Guardian of The Bloom
"In the years that I have…minded over the Stolen Lands-" She flinched at mentioning her past, pulling herself free from Pelliaos arms. "Times of peace rarely last in this land, though that was mostly own doing. Unbound from my fate, I feel wary of the future before us wh-where" She stuttered, only to whisper, "I am not in control." She turned to Pelliaos. "Are you sure you wish to have me here?"
Now Pelliaos felt rather confused, and it must have shown on his face, for the nymph found a reason to speak her mind.
If anything the Sorrowlands has been in the midst of a "civilized" peace. Their neighbors are allied or wary of their might, militaristic or politically, depleted as it is.
He will take it if it means people can live their lives without worrying about wannabe bandit lords opportunistic expansions.
"When you live as long as I, patience is not a virtue, but a fact of life." Nyrissa stated slowly, as if warming up to something, though there was a small pause. "Centuries I have caused harm and death, past years I have only begaun to atone for my crimes. But I will continue.
Pelliaos wondered what she was getting at, they already had the whole lifespan conversation years ago. "Despite the near unmeasurable time under my curse, and my time bound to this land, I welcome what the future may bring. I shall not flee nor will I break. I have tied my fate to this
happiness floods my soul with this kingdom and you by my side." She stops, her back leaned into his chest.
"But what about you, my Spring?" Nyrissa asked, though her head was locked towards the horizon.
"Years as an adventurer, only for a kingdom to sprout up around you. A wandering youth from the Steaming Sea that blew across the land only to become entrapped by the brambles of the Stolen Lands. Do you not wish to continue to go with the wind once more?"
Pelliaos never really cared for all the over-the-top talk in the nobility, and most bards being extra flowery with their words. It was just ways for people to talk without actually talking. To flatter without actually paying a compliment. Whenever it was his wife's words, she had his complete attention. For all the bluster of court visitors, their voices did not share the sincerity, or even the way her voice wavers when even she becomes stressed or anxious. Everyone gives up when caught in this little made-up game, but for Nyrissa it was all a part of her. It made it real hard not to listen to her.
The mercenary-turned king mulled over the question. "And give up a land with my name on-" he started but stopped. Nyrissa's face had twisted into a small frown at his words. That was the first thing that popped into his head, not the real answer. Pelliaos ponders his words before he speaks again, "I don't see the point of travelling anymore." He paused. "When I first got the barony, all I thought was a nice plot of land to hoard any neat trinkets that I'd pick up. Now-"He let go of Nyrissa as he leaned onto the windowsill with folded arms overlooking the bustling city just beyond outside of the castle walls. "I'm a tiefling king, respected and loved by the people. Even when I step in to settle a minor dispute, people listen instead of giving me the dirty look," Pelliaos smiled. "Why would I even dream of leaving a land where I am powerful, respected-" He turns back to Nyrissa. "Loved." Pelliaos said softly, slim, green arms embrace his back as he feels Nyrissa's bare skin against his own.
"Why in all of Golarion would I want to leave?"
*Updated on August 26, 2022
Changed the timeline of the story to match the one set in stone.