(House of the Dragon spoiler alert)
.
Chapter Four: Manifest Destiny
.
Bay of Pentos, 300 AC
Jon
.
Arya's fever had broken that morning, to the relief of everyone concerned. She remained too weak to talk or move, but at the very least she was out of harm's way. Jon's questions could wait a few more days. For now, he was occupied with thoughts of their mission, spending most of his time in his cabin planning how to get it done.
They had reached Pentos the day before, sending a few ships to the city under a white flag to gather anything necessary for the voyage. From there, they would make their way back to the Seven Kingdoms to carry out their plan. They could not visit all kingdoms, except the ones on the eastern coasts. The Stormlands were the closest, and men of the Baratheon fleet were eager to get their families out while they still could. Mayhaps the Baratheon fleet would not face much trouble there. One more question in mind was the whereabouts of the Others. They had not the slightest idea of how long it would take for the army of the dead to lay waste to an entire kingdom. Whether they were still in the Gift, or on their way towards the southern kingdoms, no one knew.
"Lord Commander, there is someone who wants to meet you." Brienne said as she entered his cabin. The Night's Watch had been disbanded, but that did not stop people from using his former title. "The men found him in the city. He is a Westerosi."
"Send him in, my lady."
A tall man entered the room after her. His skin was burnt from the sun, and his hair was almost white, showing his age. Yet, he still had the look of a warrior. He stared at Jon for a while, as if he remembered something, or someone.
"So you are Ned Stark's son." the man said. He did not call Jon a bastard, as many others had in the past.
"That is correct. And you are?" Jon asked.
"I am an exile from the North, forced to escape the king's justice after dishonouring my house. Do I have your assurance, Lord Commander, that I will not be arrested if I reveal myself?"
An exiled Northman? Could he be?
"You will remain unharmed and free." Jon said plainly.
"I am Jorah Mormont." the stranger revealed. The son of Jeor Mormont, Jon thought, and one who had been sentenced to death by Lord Stark years ago. He knew that the man was in Essos, but he never expected to meet him.
"If we were in the Seven Kingdoms, I would have given you the choice to take the black or face execution. Fortunately for you, we are not. Why did you approach us ser?" he asked.
"The reasons were many, but first I wish to know what happened to my lord father." Mormont said.
"There was a mutiny beyond the Wall, and he was betrayed by his own brothers." Jon told him. "Your father was an honourable soul, one who's like we will never see again. He taught me how to lead, and care for those who follow you."
"That he was, though I did nothing but disappoint him in life." Ser Jorah said, deep in thought. "Were the mutineers brought to justice?"
"I personally led the assault against them. Your father was avenged."
"For that you have my gratitude." he said. "Though one cannot help but wonder what the Night's Watch is doing in Pentos, along with smallfolk from the North."
What followed was a very long conversation about the Others and the Wall. Jon told the man of how his father was attacked by the undead, the Great Ranging, the battle at Hardhome and the cracks in the Wall. He expected the old knight to scoff at the tale and declare him mad, but it never happened.
"My father was no fool, and I think you are not one as well. We live in strange times. I was a witness when the dragons came back, and I knew then that the world is changing, but even this…"
"Dragons?" Jon asked.
"I serve Queen Daenerys Targaryen." Ser Jorah answered.
"How did a man of the North find himself in service of a Targaryen?" his people had no love of southrons, much less of the Targaryens, and the Mormonts had fought against them in the rebellion. The man seemed pained when Jon asked him that question, but he answered nevertheless.
"Essos is no place for a Northman, even with all its freedom and charm. Every moment I spent here, I yearned for my homeland, for Bear Island. What I would not give just for a moment spent in the mountains and forests of my youth, but I dared not return. I was not afraid of your father's sword, but of the disdain from my kin- my lord father, who had bestowed on me the sword of our house, my aunt who had raised me, and my nieces who had looked up to me. I had traded them for a woman who never loved me, who drove me to commit that terrible crime. But in the end, the fault was entirely mine." he stopped, but continued. "I was in Pentos three years ago when I heard of the last scions of House Targaryen, and saw it as an opportunity to regain my honor- sell them to the Stag King and earn my way home. But as fate would have it, I fell in love again, this time to the innocent princess who I was supposed to betray. There came a time when I had to make a choice between her and my homeland, and I chose her."
Jon listened to the knight's tale, and though the man had committed the gravest of sins, he could still feel some sympathy for his position. "Has Queen Daenerys sent you?"
"No. I came here of my own accord. My queen discovered my treachery, and banished me from her realm, only to return on one condition."
"What?"
"She sent me to kill those who meant her harm and bring their heads to her. I was determined to see it done, even if it meant my life, but from what you have told me, it seems that I will fail yet again." Jorah sighed. "I had come to you seeking passage to Westeros, but little did I know that you seek to flee from it."
"We do not." Jon stated.
"But you said that the Others have breached the Wall."
"They have, but it does not mean that we flee like cravens. On the morrow, we intend to set sail to the Seven Kingdoms and bring whoever we can with us in our ships. The Night's Watch has sent ravens to all great lords, and we can only hope that they help us."
"In that instance, let me come with you." Mormont said. "I wish to redeem myself, if not for my queen, then for my people."
"We need every man we can get." Jon smiled at him. "Though our skills with the blade are of no use anymore, we can still reach out to the people and persuade them to come with us."
"Did you not kill a white walker?"
"They can only be killed by fire, dragonglass and Valyrian steel." Jon unsheathed his sword and put in on his table.
"Longclaw!" Mormont was surprised.
"Your father gave it to me when I saved his life, though I have struggled to accept it even after his death. This sword belongs to your family, and it is only right that you have it."
Jorah Mormont held the sword for a while, examining the rippling pattern with a childlike awe, and then handed it back to Jon. "It is tempting, but I cannot. I brought shame to my family and forfeit my right to this blade. If my father considered you worthy of Longclaw, then you are worthy. May it serve you well." he said.
Jon was confused, but took the sword back. Mormont went to his leather bag and pulled out something.
"There is another weapon that might help. When I was in service of the queen, she received certain visitors of a queer nature."
"Were they wizards?" Jon asked. He had heard of the dragon queen's exploits and her use of witchcraft, but in his vision he had seen something else. Perhaps the old knight would tell the truth of it.
"They were no wizards, but rather men from a realm that does not exist. I had taken them for mummers until they showed us the things they were capable of." Mormont uncovered the thing to reveal a small contraption. "I knew I had taken a fool's errand when I agreed to my queens demands, but the leader of those men gave me this weapon to make my task easier."
Jon held the 'weapon'. It had a trigger, like a crossbow, but it was too small to be one. It looked more like a decorating piece, with its silver metal and fine engravings. On the wooden part were inscribed a few words.
C. O'Driscoll.
.
The Neck, 300 AC
Jaime
.
"Found this lot crossing the border." Bronn said as he pointed towards the group of men and women gathered near the village. "Scared out of their wits, they are. Would not say a word."
The ragtag group of smallfolk seemed that way, yes. They carried no provisions, no animals and no wares, just the clothes on their back. More northmen and crannogmen had been seen crossing into the southern kingdoms, which was a cause for concern. No lord would allow such large groups to leave his lands at once.
"I tell you, those fuckers up north are up to something." Bronn continued as they made their way closer to them. There had been no ravens from any castle or keep beyond the Twins for weeks, for reasons no one knew.
Jaime had made sure that the Frey bannermen were nowhere near the people. The whole realm knew of the hatred they had with those north of their lands. In the camp, every man and woman seemed very queer. One could almost be forgiven for presuming them dead, if not for the fact that they could still move. They would not talk, nor make a sound. Their eyes would never make contact with yours, but look towards the sky. Try prodding them with a stick, but not a word would come.
"Same as the last group?" he asked a maester.
"Yes, Ser Jaime. I think they are suffering from some unknown ailment." The maester replied. "For now I will advise maintaining distance from the people."
In the last few moons, Jaime had been sent away from King's Landing to help put an end to the last remnants of the war- the War of Five Kings, as the bards and the maesters called it. None of them lived to see it end, and it was up to young Tommen to hold the realm together. The boy deserved better, but was now stuck in the schemes of his family as well as the Tyrells.
Taking Riverrun was easy once brought Edmure Tully to heel, though the Blackfish had escaped, sure to cause trouble again. Word had come that he was last seen heading towards the Neck with his men, and the combined forces of Lannisters and Freys were out to round them up. They might have been done with it earlier, if not for the refugee problem that had arose in the Riverlands. Every group showed the same signs of that unknown ailment. If that was true, then the North must have been hit with a plague.
"It would be best to finish this business quickly and head back. I do not want the same to happen to me." Jaime told his knights as they moved on towards the road.
The Neck was a treacherous terrain, filled with swamps, bogs and lizard lions prowling under the water, waiting for their prey. It was natural that the Blackfish would flee for this place, for the terrain itself would do half his work for him. The Kingsroad was in a state of decay, though sturdy enough to let the host pass.
"Stop right there!" a knight yelled as he saw a small bunch of people in front of them. They had swords in their hands, and were wearing nothing. "I said stop you bastards!"
They kept walking towards the host despite the warning. Jaime dismounted along with Bronn and a few soldiers. The archers fired their arrows and the men dropped.
"Bandits?" someone asked. They moved closer to the naked bodies, and noticed something unnerving.
"This wound should have killed him." said Bronn. One man's throat was cut to the bone. Another man had a deep cut in the stomach, others were wounded in the chest. How were they still alive?
The more I see this, the more I wish to return.
"What the…" said a knight, with a frightened voice. "Here, Ser Jaime."
He looked that way and found that a bandit was already on his feet. The arrow had pierced his skull, yet he was still standing. On instinct, Jaime went for his sword but used the wrong hand. The golden arm could pick nothing up, and he was immediately shoved to the ground by the bandit. Bronn came to his rescue, plunging his sword into the man's chest, but nothing happened. The other knights joined in, hacking and slashing his limbs away, but the bandit refused to die or even cry in pain. His companions got up as well, defying all sense and attacked them.
.
The Lands of Always Winter, 300 AC
Bran
.
Hodor carried Bran and put him on the boat. They had travelled a few leagues away from the cave until they reached the Milkwater River. The Children had built a boat that would lead them straight to the Bay of Ice, from where they would make their way towards the nearest safe place- Bear Island. They were eight companions when they started their journey, now reduced to four. Jojen and Rickon had perished, one in a way worse than death. They never knew what happened to Osha and Shaggydog, but there would be time for that later.
Before their departure, the three-eyed raven had given him a Valyrian Steel sword. With it came a word of advice- "Seek out the new arrivals." Bran knew what it meant.
"Take this." he said to Meera as he handed her the sword. "There is something I need to do."
"The raven said that you need to recover your strength first." Meera argued.
"I know, but it cannot wait." he said. "Protect us, Meera."
"I will."
With that, Bran lied down on his makeshift bed as the boat sailed down the river. He closed his eyes and his mind guided him to his destination.
.
Yunkai, 300 AC
Dutch
.
"Why have we not made any progress regarding those bastards?" Dutch asked the council members. Today marked the fifth consecutive day when a corpse had shown up with a golden mask. The Sons of the Harpy, as they liked to call themselves, were getting bolder. They had made themselves known the day Daenerys left for Meereen, to put the last nail in the coffin of slavery. At first, it had started with slanderous messages on the walls of buildings, then attacks on the Unsullied from the shadows. Soon enough, they had resorted to murder.
"The Unsullied patrol the city, but the rebels know every corner." Council Member Edar said in his thick accent.
Arthur would've found them. He wouldn't have failed me.
Without his people, he was forced to put his trust on unproven men. Arthur, Charles and John were off in some backwater where they would be of no use to anyone, while Hosea had to manage Qarth on his own. He was the more rational one of the two, willing to compromise. Dutch on the other hand, wanted everything to go as he planned.
"Which is why we need those little birds." Lady Tyene said from her sisters' side. Ever since the topic of spies had been brought up, he had had conflicts with Daenerys and the foreign prince.
"That's children we're talking about. It isn't right."
"It might not be, but your methods are not bearing fruit." The girl retorted.
"We just need more time." Until my men reach us, he thought. "This meeting is at an end." he declared, frustrated with the lack of progress. Everyone departed for their quarters, and so did he.
In the privacy of his room, he read his Bible as he did every day since coming to this world. It was one of the few possessions that he had brought with him. Dutch had always been a religious man, but his faith had increased tenfold when faced with this miracle.
"That is an interesting book." came a voice. Dutch jumped out of his bed, his revolver in hand.
"Who is it? Speak now!"
From the shadows, a boy emerged. He must've been no older than thirteen. Dutch lowered his gun, but did not leave it entirely.
"You can call me Brandon." the boy said.
"Alright, Brandon. You mind telling me what you're doing here?" he asked. He swore he locked the door, so how did the boy get in?
Brandon walked around the room absent mindedly for a minute before speaking. "You are very far from home, Daniel van der Linde."
Dutch's blood ran cold. His gun dropped from his hand, and his mind went blank.
"How…?"
"I know much about you, Daniel." Brandon said without any emotion, stressing that name. "We have much to discuss, so I need you to come with me."
"Where?"
Brandon stepped forward and grabbed his arm. It burnt.
.
He was inside a large castle, made of red bricks. It resembled European architecture, yet still looked different.
"This is the Red Keep, where the royal family of the Seven Kingdoms lives." Brandon appeared.
"How am I here?" Dutch asked. "What are you?"
"I am the memory of the world, trained to see everything that has happened." the boy answered in a monotone voice, as if reading the words from a page. "Let us see what this memory shows us."
Dutch walked with the boy, who led him outside the castle. What they saw was a city of red and white buildings, surrounded by a wall and the sea.
"Is this King's Landing?" he asked.
"Yes. The capital of the Seven Kingdoms."
So this was that famous city, Dutch thought. He didn't know how or why he was here. He wasn't even sure if he was dreaming or if this was real. Not wanting to find out, he instead took in the sight. And then, he heard familiar screeches. Looking up at the sky, there were five dragons flying above the city, much larger than the queen's three beasts. They looked different as well, with different coloring and shapes.
"This is King's Landing, or what it looked like nearly one hundred and eighty years ago." Brandon said.
"We're in the past?"
"Yes. There is something we need to see."
They went back inside the castle and strolled through its corridors. On the walls were pornographic images and murals of dragons. It didn't take long for Dutch to deduce that this was the castle of the Targaryen royal family. Everyone talked of how Daenerys' family used to rule the continent.
"Are you God?" Dutch asked the boy. "Did you bring us here?" There was no other explanation for that, which he could think of.
"It was indeed the work of the gods, or just your God." Brandon said. "But I am not him."
"Then how can you do all this?"
"Your questions will be answered, in time."
I guess I just need to have some faith, he thought.
They kept walking until they saw a young man. He was tall and lean, yet still looked intimidating. He had the violet eyes and silver hair of Targaryen. An ancestor of the queen?
"I do not know who this man is." the boy said. "But I think he is important."
"You don't know for sure?"
"My skills are still being honed."
They followed the man to a large hall, where they saw a huge throne made of swords. It was a monstrous and ugly sight. On it sat a king with the same silver hair and a golden crown, though he was older. He wielded a sword and had three guards in front of him. The two men started speaking, but Dutch could not hear anything.
"I-I have not went this far back before." Brandon tried to maintain his composure. The vision was beginning to fade, but soon went back to normal. The two men argued about something personal, though Dutch did not understand what. Apparently they were brothers, and the king sent his brother away to a place called the Vale. He never got the name of the younger one, but the king was mentioned as Viserys.
The scene changed, and now the king was with a girl. She resembled Daenerys, though much younger and her hair had a touch of blonde. Behind them was a large skull of a dragon, and hundreds of candles on its mantle.
"The idea that we control the dragons is an illusion…" Viserys said to the girl. Their conversation faded away at places, making it harder to understand what they were saying. "…it was not ambition alone that drove his conquest. Aegon foresaw the end of the world of men. It begins with a terrible winter from the north, and whatever dwells within will destroy our world…"
"What's he talking about?" Dutch asked Brandon.
"The Long Night…" he got the answer, but the walls of the vision began to collapse. "I do not have much time. We will meet again." The boy disappeared before his eyes and Dutch woke up.
.
It was morning, and he woke up well rested. He would've dismissed what he witnessed as a mere dream, if not for the burnt mark on his arm. On his bed, the Bible was still open, at the same page he was on when he spoke to that boy.
It shall be when these signs come to you, do for yourself what the occasion requires, for God is with you.
Was it another one of God's miracles? In his mind, he remembered his words. The Long Night. What was it? An apocalypse, like the Doom of Valyria he had read of? He needed answers, and he needed them now.
.
