Arya cut into her steak with a carefulness and precision that was always expected of her. Smiling as she bit into the piece of meat, Arya looked out over the long table of the dining hall as her various family members chatted and enjoyed their food.
Little Jon was already getting droopy eyed, and Myrinda seemed to be in a similar state as him; though she was certainly better at hiding it.
Arya looked at her brothers and sister, and sighed as she thought of her parents; wishing that they could be there to see all their children all grown up and living their lives as normal people. She knew that while they had never said it, all of them had feared that the rest of their children would end up like her.
A person who barely felt, much less understood emotions; and yet still had the wolf's blood flowing through her veins.
"I intend to leave within the next week or so for Mindoir." The voice of Domera, her baby sister, startled Arya out of her ruminations; and she looked over at the youngest Stark sibling since Sansa's death.
Domera was one of the most intelligent women on the planet, and was fascinated with history and with the Protheans in particular. So the fact that she was going to Mindoir, a small agricultural colony of the Dornish, the Midlands, and the United Kingdom was a little mystifying.
"Might I ask why, baby sister?" Arya whispered, her question drawing the attention of the rest of the table.
Domera just smiled, "Well, there are rumors of a Prothean artifact on the planet, and I want to look into it." She explained easily.
Benjen, wearing his Marine uniform as he quietly ate a small salad, just snorted. "And does this have anything to do with that Dornish woman that I saw hanging around your lab a couple of weeks ago?" He jested, not even looking up as he speared some lettuce with his fork; though Arya could see him hiding a smirk.
Domera blushed red, and she hissed something unintelligible as she smacked her brother on the shoulder; the third youngest Stark chuckling as his various medals and decorations jingled on his chest.
Rickard chuckled as well as he kept reading and grading some essays submitted to him by his students; while his wife, Wylla Stark nee Manderly, continued rocking their newborn son Eddard in her arms.
Arya glanced over at the second youngest sibling, and tilted her head. "How are your classes Rickard?" She asked.
"They are going well." He replied, glancing up at her from above his reading glasses. "Most of the students are adjusting to the increasing workload, though I expect their stress to increase once the midterms begin." He stated, before setting aside one essay and grabbing his son; as the babe had been whining and reaching for him.
Arya gave him a tiny, genuine smile, before it fell as she sighed; thinking about the other members of the family that weren't present.
Sansa had been dead for six years now, but her absence was still felt by all of them. Little Jon did help fill the hole in Arya's heart; but she still missed her baby sister, the little girl her mother had died birthing. Her mothers death triggered her fathers own death from grief, leaving Arya to raise her baby sister and take the Throne of Winter at ten and four.
Brandon, her younger brother and the first son of the family, was on the way to Elysium with the Royal Fleet on an inspection tour; and to build diplomatic ties with the other nations that were colonizing the area, such as with the Braavosi and the Midlanders.
Her own husband, Yohn Royce, was already at Elysium; though since Yohn was Admiral of the Third Fleet, it was expected of him.
Arya's own children were also out for the most part, as they were all adults living their own lives; either in academia, business, or the military. Only Robb was still in Winter City, as his new status as the Prince of Winter had practically confined him to the North out of fear of assassination.
I hope he's at least searching for an acceptable wife. She thought to herself with a frown, as she noted Robbs' empty chair.
Arya was accepting that love, even if she didn't understand it most of the time, could mean attraction for anyone; and had he been a sword swallower, she would have made accommodations and helped him for the good of the realm.
The only problem was that Robb wasn't a sword swallower; he wasn't interested in love at all.
In fact, Arya was privately sure that he was celibate because he was just like Arya herself; and he had yet to find someone that could trigger emotions or stirrings of any kind in him, which would be a monumental process in and off itself given how long it took before she had met Yohn.
"Sister?" Arya blinked and turned her apathetic gaze towards Domera, tilting her head in question. Domera just shrugged, "Sorry, you seemed lost in thought."
"I was." Arya admitted before standing, "I was waiting to bring this up later, but I suppose now is as good a time as any."
Rickard set down his pencil and took off his glasses, while Domera raised a brow. Only Benjen seemed uninterested, as he continued stabbing his food with his fork and munching it down.
"You all know about the assassination attempt 6 months ago, correct?" She asked.
"Impossible not to." Benjen grumbled, and Arya shot him a glare that he ignored.
Taking a breath, she continued, "As it stands, the Batarians have been quiet as of late; which concerns both myself and the Minister of War and the Master of Whispers. As such, we'll be having a temporary increase in security for the time being. Not for long, but for the next month or so."
Benjen just grunted, having been told beforehand since it might potentially interfere with his duties as a Marine; but neither Rickard or Domera seemed to like that much, though Wylla seemed to be a little relieved.
Little Jon and Myrinda, bless their souls, had both fallen asleep at their chairs.
"Must we?" Domera asked, sounding slightly bitter.
Arya narrowed her eyes, her whispering lilt gaining an urgent tone to it; brokering no argument as she hissed, "I do not care if your additional guards accidentally stop you from laying with this Dornish woman you are pining after."
She gripped the edge of the table and shrugged her shoulders, her wolf's pelt cape shifting with it. "In case you forgot, they ambushed me while I was bathing; with the intent of either kidnapping, raping, and tourturing me. Or conversely, simply putting a slug into my head. I will not have the guilt of that happening to any of you, should the Batarians rediscover their spine."
Domera winced and looked away, while Rickard sighed and nodded.
Satisfied, Arya walked over to Myrinda and Little Jon; and with a smile, picked them both up and carried them to bed.
Ocoy Prafpogar, Director of the Hegemony Security Ministry, resisted the urge to swallow as he took his seat at the table. He was an old school spy chief, and remembered the days when he had been out in the field; spying on Asari, Turians, Salarians, and Quarians, trying to plot out raids to see if they could take any slaves.
He was no stranger to failed missions and failed raids; and he had been on both ends of the failed mission debrief.
Fortunately for him, every single one of his failures had been due to circumstances outside of his control; so he was allowed to live, and even thrived enough to become Director of the Security Ministry. It was a tough balancing act of appearing just competent enough to be useful to the Hegemony; but not too competent as to be a threat to the Consul.
If only he hadn't been so impatient, I could have set this up better and gotten a better assessment of her abilities. He thought with a mental grimace, even as he kept his face even and stoic.
Granted, he had thought that ambushing the barbarian while she was bathing would have been a sure fire way to kill or kidnap her; but she'd proven to be as brutal and dangerous as a Krogan.
"Report." the Consul of the Hegemony ordered in a silky smooth voice, betraying no emotion beyond some remote interest in how things had gone for their little operation.
Ocoy gave a light bow, and plugged in a data-slate to the main display. "I regret to inform you, Consul, that the mission was a failure." He started, before inputting several commands. "SIU Commander Balak attempted the assassination while the Barbarian Queen was bathing in her private chambers. Regrettably, the Private contractors he hired were… distracted by the female anatomy."
The Consul snorted, "That's the problem with mercenaries. They think with their cocks rather than their brains." He grumbled.
Ocoy just nodded in agreement, then played the video of the failed assassination attempt; watching the Consul with his upper left eye while keeping the rest fixed on the screen. He noted the man seemed interested in the Queen as she rose from her bath, and how she distracted the pirates with her body; while her pet wolf got into position to ambush them.
He was not repulsed when she had ambushed the assassins, nor when she started hacking off limbs with that sword of hers; in fact, that only seemed to interest him further.
But the real kicker was when he saw how she used a form of mind-meld on the SIU operative; teasing him sexually to extort information from the agent, before she brutally smashed his face to pieces.
Ocoy knew that the Consul liked alien slaves for sexual relief, and he liked his alien bed warmers to be fighters. Oh pillars… he's going to want to kidnap her again, and use her as his own. Ocoy thought, fighting down a grimace as he immediately began thinking of how to go about it.
"How much did the SIU agent learn about this Queen and her family before his capture and release?" The Consul asked, still staring at the frozen image of the queen standing in front of Agent Balak; naked, holding a sword, and covered in blood and water.
Ocoy blinked, "He learned quite a lot about them, including their various habits and-"
"I want this barbarian to pay, I want her to kneel before me; and show who is the superior species." The consul interrupted. "We can't go after her directly, and I don't care anyway. We go after her family, and her colonies. Plan an operation that will hit both at the same time; but take it slow… this needs to be perfect."
Ocoy just bowed his head, "It will be done Consul."
Ka'hairal Balak sat behind the witness' desk, his side still throbbing.
I can't believe they castrated me… He grumbled to himself.
A stab wound just below his ribs, one eye lost, two others damaged, a moderate concussion, a broken wrist, and a bruised shaft was the damage report; not counting the fact that he'd been subjected to some kind of human imitation of an Asari-meld.
He hated that whispering bitch, he wanted her to hurt, he wanted her dead; and he wanted her entire race wiped off the galaxy.
"Agent Balak, please relay to us your time in their captivity." One of the officers behind the adjudicators bench stated.
Balak nodded and started his tale.
Balak just glared with his one good eye at the exit to the dungeon he was chained up in.
He shivered slightly as a cold breeze blew past. They had stripped him bare, and left him chained up and naked for the past few days; only coming in to feed him and make sure that the chamber pot was cleaned out.
He knew that they were simply trying to demean him, make him seem like he was just a rabid varran as opposed to a sentient.
He had dealt with far worse in his training for the SIU… though the fact that they had deprived him of a flush toilet really bothered him, mainly because of how petty it seemed to be; since he knew they had modern things like working toilets.
He heard a set of footsteps, and he immediately straightened up; going from slumping and hanging loose in his chains, to standing straight and tall.
A few moments passed, and then the door opened; and Balak froze as it revealed the Whispering Bitch standing at it, holding a simple dagger, her eyes boring into his. She wore a simple sleeveless shirt, loose pair of pants, and a pair of shoes; while her hair hung loose around her chin, making her look more like a peasant as opposed to a Queen.
She stepped inside, and the pet Varren; The Direwolf, as he learned it was called, slunk inside with her.
None of the guards entered, though he knew better than to try anything. Even assuming he managed to get loose of his chains, and take her hostage; she would probably just do that meld thing again and get him to let her go, or conversely her pet direwolf would eat him alive.
The Death Goddess simply stared at him with an apathetic expression, then she pulled up a small wooden chair and a simple wood end table in front of her, sitting down and driving the dagger into the table.
She stared at him for a moment longer, then she glanced downwards and smirked, "It seems I was right, you're too small to fit properly." She whispered.
Balak snorted, "Is that all you have? Childish jokes more appropriate for teenage males?" He asked, still on guard since he knew that she was capable of far more.
The apathetic expression affixed itself to her face as she tilted her head, "I would think that you would be glad that I am only engaging you in this way… for now." The threat that she could and probably would do more was something that sent chills down his spine.
Balak just cracked his neck and glanced at her clothes. "Awfully cheap clothing for one of such high birth." He pointed out.
The bitch just blinked at him, "Hm… I do not imagine you would be as kind to me as I have been to you; were our places reversed." She mused, her direwolf laying behind her and staring at Balak with bored eyes.
Balak swallowed, "If it were, my men would be fucking you every which way while I watched." He bluntly admitted, "And if you were lucky, you would be a concubine for the Consul."
She just nodded at him and stood, gripping the dagger so hard that her knuckles were turning white; the only indication of her current mood, with how little emotion she was showing on her face. "I shall be blunt with you, as you have been with me." She started, the musical whispering voice that came from her mouth turning cold and hissing.
Balak swallowed and raised his chin, determined to show no fear to this little pyjak.
"You and your Hegemony will have this act of mercy; I shall spare your life, and I shall send you back to your space with a simple message. You will never attack colonies or peoples of the United Kingdom of the North, the Trident, and the Mountain again; nor shall you ever take slaves from my kingdoms. If you do so, your lives are forfeit; and you shall meet Blizzard's blade on the chopping block."
She spoke plainly, but a small measure of glee creeped into the monotonic whisper that tingled his ear.
Balak just sneered at her, "If you think you can stand against the might of the Hegemony, you are wrong; you're just a whispering bitch, one that is better off as a bed warmer than anything else."
In hindsight, insulting her was a stupid thing to do, but the damage was done.
She blinked slowly, then she drove the dagger into the table, slowly stepping back from Balak. "I don't suppose you remember my family history?" She asked, raising a brow at him, but otherwise showing no emotion on that pretty face.
Balak snorted, "Why should I care? You're just a stuck up royal who thinks she can play with the big children." He stated.
Slowly, the Death goddess began to smile, and Balak swallowed and began to strain against his chains. He knew that smile, it was the smile that the goddess of death would give you; before she would extract your soul through your eyes, steal your breath through a kiss, and take your legacy through your manhood and seed.
"I am a Stark; known for their honor, mercy, and justness." She stated simply, still smiling at him. "But I am also a Bolton; known for their cruelty, pragmatism, and above all their intelligence." Her smile grew wider still as she sat down on her chair and removed her shoes. "The Boltons would flay their prisoners alive; and wear their skins as cloaks."
Balak didn't react outwardly, though inwardly he cringed and started preparing himself for pain that he could not imagine.
Still, the whispering bitch continued to smile. "I still have those pangs of cruelty, but I simply direct it at those that deserve it." She said, standing and removing her shirt; exposing her chest and her massive tits to him.
Balak's eyes widened, and he felt his exposed manhood twitch against his will as blood rushed downwards.
"And I read your Batarian legends, how your death goddess takes your soul." She continued, removing her pants and walking forwards; grabbing the dagger from off the table, before pressing her naked body against his.
She got right in his face, and Balak squirmed as she reached downwards with her free hand and began to stroke his member. "And I know… this will hurt a lot." She said, still smiling as she guided him in slightly.
Balak groaned, and his hips bucked against his will while she kissed him.
Then he screamed, and all he knew was pain.
She had committed the greatest sin to a Batarian.
She had teased his manhood, and brought him to the edge of spilling; and then removed said manhood without taking his seed. She had taken an eye, and damaged others, but not taken his soul. And she had taken his breath, but not stolen it entirely.
In olden times, when a Batarian was to be executed, the rights would always be observed; only the most heinous of criminals would have their last rights denied to them. A maiden would always look into a man's eyes, take his seed into her, and then plunge the Blade of Death into his heart with a kiss.
To do what she had done, it was the greatest dishonor that could be done; and the greatest cruelty done to a man of rank in Batarian society.
The horrified expressions on the Adjudicator's faces told Balak all he needed to know; that the whispering bitch and her family would die. Even if he hadn't been entirely truthful in how his castration had been done… it was of no concern to him. Did it really matter how she took his manhood? She had taken it regardless, and that was all Balak cared about.
"Her family must die." The Adjudicator to the right said.
"Yes…" The middle one agreed.
"But how to go about it?" The left one mused.
Balak cleared his throat, and the board and the ministers in attendance all looked at him as one. "If I may… Comrades." Balak started, "I may have an idea, you see, I heard some things while I was kept down there."
He paused, and the Director of the Security Ministry waved a hand, gesturing for him to continue.
"Are you familiar, Comrades, with the colonies of Elysium and Mindoir?"
Yohn Royce, Prince Consort, loved Dornish Coffee.
He could never get enough of the bitter tasting stuff, though he had always preferred bitter foods; like having his apples be green and sour as opposed to being red and sweet. Perhaps that was why he had been attracted to his wife; since she was a bitter pill to swallow for most people in general.
She was a massive beauty, there was no denying that.
Large breasts, wide hips, straight black hair, pale milky eyes, full lips, a heart shaped face, and pale skin; just looking at her was enough to bring most men to their knees. But it was her cold, calculating, and emotionless personality that turned off most men.
Had Yohn not been an exceedingly patient person, he might have been one of the many people that respectfully declined to court the woman. He still might have… had he not caught her in a moment of weakness.
He sighed and closed his eyes as he remembered the day.
At Seven and Ten, Yohn looked more like a man than a boy; even if he was a legal adult.
As it stood, he really was not looking forward to meeting their new Queen. She had just turned Six and Ten this week, and she had been crowned with much celebration and fanfare. She had yet to find a husband, which was why Yohn and many sons were there.
Political Marriages were pretty rare these days, with the Nobility slowly fading into irrelevance with every passing decade; and only the Starks remained as powerful as ever, and yet even their power was checked by the Parliament and the Constitution.
But it was still commonplace and Yohn knew that marrying for love, while his chances were much better than a few hundred years ago, was still unlikely to someone of his standing.
He could see the other boys making passes and talking with the new Queen as she interacted with her new subjects; her apathetic expression making her look almost bored with the proceedings. And that whispering voice only seemed to reinforce it, as she spoke in no more than a monotone.
Shivering, Yohn decided to go and get some fresh air; and so he left the hall and walked into the yard.
Glancing around, he decided to enter the Sept; his footsteps echoing through the building as he walked past the empty pews. The Faith of the Seven, while massively reduced, was still a popular religion; though compared to the Faith of the Old Gods…
He sighed and sat in one of the pews, closing his eyes and sighing; already imagining his fathers disappointed frown.
"You didn't even try to court her!" He heard him yelling, and Yohn fought down a chuckle.
Shaking his head, he continued to sit there for a number of minutes to clear his head; before he finally stood to leave, when he heard a sound.
Frowning, Yohn started to follow it, as he recognized the sound of someone crying. He soon entered the area of the sept where one prayed to the Mother; and he saw a young woman kneeling in front of the statue, crying softly.
Swallowing awkwardly, Yohn quickly made to leave, but stopped when he heard the young womans whispering voice; and he froze when he realized that it was the Queen.
"Why!" She hissed furiously at the statue. "Why can't I be normal?! Why do you have to curse me in this way?! Why must I be a monster that feels nothing except sadness, pain, and anger!?" She sniffled. "Why can't I feel happiness like a normal person…?"
Yohn swallowed, and quickly left; but he was never able to get the image out of his head.
The image of a scared, lonely girl who needed some kind of companionship. And gods dammit, did he ever provide it.
Yohn was shaken out of his musings when one of his comms officers stood and walked up to him.
"Admiral." she said, handing him a data slate, "We've just received word, Prince Brandon will be arriving in the next few hours on an inspection tour."
"Prince Brandon?" He asked, a little surprised, but pleased nonetheless. "I suppose it's a surprise inspection then?" He added, already standing and straightening his tie.
"Aye sir." The officer stated, taking the dataslate back. "Shall I alert the rest of the fleet?" She asked.
Yohn nodded, "Yes, alert the rest of the fleet; enter into defensive formations and prepare for attack drills." He ordered, crossing his arms behind his back. "I want this fleet ready to impress the Prince when he gets here." He announced to the bridge, pausing for a moment before adding, "And if my good brother finds even one thing wrong with this fleet; my wife will never let me hear the end of it, and have me sleeping on the couch."
The chuckles that answered him told him that his joke was received… as was the subtle threat of, "If my wife makes me miserable, I make you miserable." Which was mostly just a joke… mostly.
Yohn stood and walked over to the sensory station, watching the readouts as the fleet began to move into the positions that had been laid out for them. For some reason, he couldn't help but feel a sudden onset of dread for a moment; not helped by the fact that one of his crewmen walked past while whistling 'The Rains of Castamere.'
Yohn shook his head, I'm just being paranoid. He decided.
But as it stood, he ordered the K-Barriers to full power… just in case.
Benjen Stark wore his standard issue Marine armor, the only thing denoting him as an officer and his status was the gold accents on the gray and black coloration.
It was always amusing to him how aliens reacted to human armor; with body armor looking more like plate armor from the time of the Second Long Night, as opposed to the curvy and form fitting armor that the Asari, Salarians, and Turians seemed to prefer. He had little doubts that if he were to go back 1000 years, he wouldn't look all that out of place.
"Having a good day, your Grace?"
Benjen turned to look at his Dornish counterpart, Major Oberyn Yronwood. The man had the typical Dornish features and accent; and Bejen would be lying if he said that he didn't enjoy the man's company. Both of them scorned pomp and ceremony, in spite of their noble blood; and both men were more down to earth compared to many noble born officers.
Benjen snorted, "I was having a good day, until you hit me with the 'your Grace' crap."
Yronwood chuckled and shook his head, turning his attention to the group of scientists as they examined the uncovered Prothean artifact.
The Dornish, the Braavosi, the Midland Confederation, and the United Kingdom had all sent scientists to this little expedition; one of the international treaties that they had agreed to upon the discovery of the Mass Effect and the Prothean archives.
It was why Domera was here, and Benjen fought back a smirk when he saw his sister mutter something to that Dornish scientist; and the woman immediately blushed red before whispering something back.
"I've heard the Batarians have been getting uppity." Yronwood said suddenly, and Benjen glanced at him; to which the man only shrugged. "I'm friends with the Lady of Starfell, and she in turn is friends with the Prince. Tell me, Benjen, are we on the verge of war?"
He could lie.
His older sister was far better at it than he was, though Brandon couldn't lie for shit; mainly because his older brother was far too boisterous to even attempt it.
But Benjen felt like he owed it to the Dornish Officer, and he gave the other man a sad look. "There's kind of a reason I'm here with a company of the Queensguard; and another regiment of Marines."
The Queensguard was six regiments of elite Special Forces soldiers; trained for both ceremonial roles, and for special operations. They were expected to handle the security of the royal family, which meant being able to do next to anything; from infiltration, to undercover work, to parades, to standing guard, to being shock troops.
They were to, and gave, everything in service to the Starks.
Yronwood gave Benjen a look, and shook his head. "The United Kingdom cannot stand against them alone."
The middle Stark just grimaced, "I know…" He murmured, "But we'll go down swinging if we have to."
Yronwood just shrugged, "Who knows, perhaps the Westerosi Union will become reality."
Benjen scoffed and shook his head.
The Westerosi Union had been a proposal that had been floated numerous times throughout the centuries. There were many variations of it, but the main idea was that all of the nations of Westeros would have one Head of State to handle foriegn policy; have their militaries unified under one command, and have their laws universalized into one code. But beyond that, each of the four nations of Westeros would mostly remain autonomous; with the chosen Head of State mostly being a figurehead.
It had been quite popular, the only problem being that no one was really able to agree on who would be the Head of State.
None of the Sea King of the Iron Islands ever wanted the job everytime it was proposed. Being an Elective Monarchy, and mainly a sea trading nation; the Iron Islands King saw no real benefit in becoming the Head of State. Mainly because that sounded expensive; and while they had a large navy both on Planetos and in space, they had a tiny land army and a small population.
All of the Presidents of the Confederation of the Midlands always wanted the job; and every time the Union was proposed, they were the one person none of the other three nations wouldn't budge on becoming the Head of State.
Mainly because the Confederation of the Midlands (which was made up of the Crownlands, the Stormlands, the Reach, and the Westerlands) always seemed to go through a round robin of different governments every century or so. One century they were a socialist dictatorship, and another they were a constitutional monarchy; and in another they were a oligarchic dictatorship, and in another they were a military Junta, and with the most recent government being a constitutional democracy.
Pretty much everyone agreed that having the Confederation of the Midlands (which was dominated by the Westerlands) take the lead in the Union would be a bad idea.
The Princes and Princesses of the Princedom of Dorne had similar problems to the Sea King of the Iron Islands anytime the idea of the Union was brought up. It sounded expensive, the Dornish were mostly isolated and weren't that hot on the idea of the Union; and they had a small military that wouldn't really be able to lead.
The United Kingdom of the North, the Riverlands, and the Vale was pretty much the only other practical choice; but like all the rest, they always turned it down.
Not for the same reasons though, as the North had a large military in both space and on the ground; and its economy could support the Union, provided the other nations chipped in with money and military spending. The problem was that the Starks were leery about any ties to the south beyond the Vale and Riverlands.
Historically, things never ended well for Starks that left the North; and they were not eager to see if the jinx on the family had finally worn off.
Benjen turned his gaze skywards, grimacing slightly as he felt a wave of unease strike him.
Yronwood noticed this and glanced at him, "Something wrong?"
Benjen shook his head, "Just remembered an old warning; Starks don't fare well outside of the North." He said, looking skyward again, "And I can't shake the feeling that the Stark family jinx has yet to run its course."
Yronwood scoffed, "Come now Ben, don't let superstitions get you down. C'mon, I think that Braavosi Captain was interested in you. Maybe she can cheer you up."
Benjen blinked, and shrugged; following the Major and trying his best to shake off the pall of dread that had ensnared him.
It's just a superstition. He told himself.
He heard something hit the ground next to him, and he glanced over and saw a horrifying sight. "GRENADE!" He screamed.
Then there was a flash, and he knew no more.
Domera bumped her hip with the scientist, and the woman blushed heavily.
The Princess of Winter couldn't keep the smirk off her face. "I thought the Dornish were supposed to be open to this sort of thing?" She asked cheerfully, even as she scribbled down some notes.
Hm, I'll need to compare these runes to the ones we have recorded in Winterfell's library; they seem similar to the dig on the moon. She thought to herself as she compared the Prothean inscriptions to ones that she had memorized. Yes… that word, 'Key', I've seen it before; but not with this kind of tone.
"We may be more open to other kinds of relationships, but we don't flaunt it." The woman, (Nymeria! That was her name), retorted. "We aren't all like Oberyn Martell."
"Could have fooled me with last night." Domera said, seeing the woman flush red out of the corner of her eye.
"I… Look, that was Drunk Nymeria; I don't speak for Drunk Nymeria." She said, her lips jumping upwards ever so slightly.
Domera laughed and went back to transcribing the Prothean inscriptions, frowning as she noted one word that seemed out of place. Memory? What the hell does memory have to do with this? She wondered.
She was jostled from her thoughts as a loud, warbling, wail began to echo throughout the city and the building.
"What's that?!" Nymeria shrieked.
Domera felt her gut fall, even as she remembered her sisters warnings from last month. "The air raid siren." She whispered, before she pulled out her pistol. "C'mon, we have to-!"
KABOOOOOM!
One moment, Domera was standing next to Nymeria; the next, she was struggling to her feet, her ears ringing and her K-Barrier shattered.
Where Nymeria had been standing, a puddle of blood and rubble were all that remained. Domera wanted to vomit, but she had no chance to do so as she felt a sharp pain in the back of her head; and she fell to the ground, darkness slowly enveloping her vision.
She heard a voice growl, "Alright, we got the Whispering Bitchs sister; and we offed her brother. Call the fleet in, and let's get this over with."
No! She thought, trying to force herself to move; try to grab her pistol, scream for help. Anything…
Benjen! Arya! Brandon! Rickon! HELP!
And then darkness took her.
Balak grinned as his Dreadnaught exited the relay leading towards the human colony of Elysium.
His source had told him that the whispering bitch's younger sister and younger brother were on the surface. He would put a slug into the brothers brain, and he would make sure his crew had their way with the sister.
Their pitifully small fleet scrambled into defensive formations.
It would not matter one whit, and all of them knew it. "Is the second fleet in position over Mindoir?" He asked one of the comm's officers.
"Aye sir." The man replied.
Balak turned to his SIU liaison and tilted his head, "And the unit in Winter City?" He asked.
"They report green, and are ready to kill the Prince and kidnap his son." The operative dutifully replied.
Balak's grin resembled a Varren's in that moment, and he knew it, "Good." He hissed, before turning back to the Weapons officer. "Send the message to both fleets. You may fire when ready… Take as many slaves as possible, and kill the rest."
Alright Whispering Bitch. He thought, even as he glanced over at the feed from the second fleet; their Dreadnaughts firing a combined salvo at the Human Prince's own Dreadnaught, vaporizing it in an instant.
Let's see how you respond to this.
Castis Vakarian was loving Winter City, and his wife and kids were loving it too.
Of course, nearly getting killed by a bus was not something that he enjoyed. They drove on the wrong side of the road, so he'd looked the wrong way before he made to cross; and was only saved when a Wintercloak pulled him back.
"You might want to look the other way before you cross." The human policeman advised the former Army soldier.
Castis blinked at the man.
It always caused him a small migraine whenever he looked at how they dressed. Civilians wore clothing that were more up with the times, while their soldiers and police wore something that looked more fitting for a medieval army. Then again, their effectiveness on Shanxi had proven that appearances weren't everything.
"Thanks for the save." Castis managed to get out, "But how did you know I was looking the wrong way?"
The man had the decency to look a little sheepish. "Well, I never saw a Turian before; and… well you aren't looked too favorably upon after the First Contact War. I was keeping an eye on you, both for the crowd's sake and your own." He explained, "Why are ya here anyway?"
Castis blinked, surprised but thankful for the man's blunt honesty, and he said; "I'm writing a book about your history, to try and explain it in a way that my own people can comprehend. I actually got done interviewing one of your Historians that was in the city, and I was on my way to meet my wife and children for some lunch."
"Ah." The Wintercloak said, nodding in understanding, "Well, don't let me keep you then. Have a good day." He said, before walking off and whistling an oddly mournful tune.
Shaking his head with a small smile, Castis crossed the street; properly this time, and walked towards the meeting point that he'd set up with his wife.
A former field surgeon, she knew how to be punctual; and more importantly, knew what to look for when it came to restaurants on a Levo based planet. Mainly on how to find something that tasted good, was edible and nutritious, and wouldn't give them indigestion.
He walked into a park, and he noted that Winterfell University was directly across from it. He felt a desire to go inside and interview some of the professors, as the University was pretty prestigious; and he knew he could get some pretty good lessons and opinions from them. Shaking his head, he looked around for his wife; and quickly found her sitting on a bench.
Six year old Solana was pretending a stick was a sword, and swinging it around; while three year old Garrus toddled after her. Salus was watching with an amused smile, though Castis could tell that his wife was ready to spring up and stop the kids if they went too far, or wandered into an area they weren't supposed to.
She glanced over, and her smile grew wider, before she stood and walked over to him; pressing her forehead against his, and buzzing her mandibles.
"Good day today?" She asked.
"Better now that I'm with you and the kids." He replied, stepping back and looking over at them.
Solana noticed him first, and she dropped the stick and shouted, "Daddy!" She sprinted over, with Garrus toddling behind her; and the both of them latched onto one of his legs each.
Castis chuckled loudly, "Well now, it seems that I have some unexpected weights attached to my legs." He remarked.
Salus buzzed in amusement, "Oh, and the big, good, and handsome CSEC Officer can't move with a couple of handicaps?" She asked.
Castis laughed, "I like a challenge." He said, already starting to try and move.
BOOM!
Castis had seen combat on Shanxi, and he'd seen action in CSEC in the brief amount of time he'd been a part of it before he'd been granted some leave. So he knew the sound of an anti-vehicle weapon being set off.
So he knew what to do.
He grabbed Garrus and Solana and dropped to the ground, covering them with his body, while Salus dropped to the ground next to them; and he quickly reached over and put his arm over her. Both of his kids were screaming, and it was like someone was taking a knife to his chest; but he shoved down the fear, and began to focus on the tactical aspects of what was happening.
He looked up and towards the origin of the explosion, and he saw what looked to be a fancy looking car with its front half all twisted and mangled.
He could see a man standing on another car, spraying an assault rifle into the destroyed car; while another seemed to be trying to force the door open, and a third seemed to be laying in wait behind a parked car for an unknown reason.
Where the hell is the City Watch or the Queensguard? He thought frantically, knowing that the city was crawling with them.
Swearing furiously, Castis knew that he had to do something.
He couldn't stand idly by while some terrorists killed an innocent person, it was against his code as a soldier and as a CSEC officer. He gave his wife a quick look, and he could tell that she knew what he was thinking.
"Don't get killed." She ordered.
"I won't." He assured her, before standing and taking off running towards the gunfire; ignoring Solana's cries for him to come back, and ignoring Garrus' wails of terror.
The third terrorist, the one that had set himself up behind the parked car, had made the mistake of losing his situational awareness; so as a result, he never saw the 140 pounds of Turian as Castis tackled him into the car.
The man smashed his head into the car, and his eyes rolled up into his head.
Castis huffed, rolling his shoulders as the adrenaline coursed through his veins; before he reached down and grabbed the humans pistol out of his hands. He checked it over for a moment to make sure it was still functional, then he looked down on the unconscious man.
He quickly manufactured a pair of omnicuffs, and bound the mans wrists behind his back; before he moved on.
Like their comrade, the other two terrorists had gotten target fixation; and they didn't see Castis coming up on them from behind. The one guarding the door saw Castis at the last second, and spun around while bringing his gun to bear. Castis would later admit that the human was a fast draw.
He had to admit that, since even though Castis had the drop on the terrorist, the human still shot first.
Castis' left shoulder jerked backwards as the slug tore through bone, plate, and muscle; but his own aim was straight and true, as the humans brain splattered the pavement behind him.
Castis hissed in pain as his arm hung limply at his side, but he ignored it in favor of focusing on the last shooter; and he noted with some satisfaction that the mans assault rifle had over heated. The terrorist never saw his death coming, as Castis took careful aim, and fired; with two shots hitting the man in the chest, and the last taking a chunk of his head off.
And just like that, it was over.
Castis breathed outwards, and slumped against the car; before the policeman in him started to act on its own accord. He stumbled forwards and checked the front half, and winced.
The engine was a tangled mess of metal, and the driver and passenger were clearly dead. He couldn't tell what had killed them, the explosion or the gunfire; but either way, he hoped that they had died quickly, because the number of shrapnel wounds and bullet holes would have put them in immense agony.
He tried to look into the back area, but the windows were tinted too heavily.
He swallowed, knowing full well that the people he tried to save were probably dead. Hearing footsteps behind him, he turned to see a Queensguard soldier rushing towards him; his gray overcoat flapping, while his black and gold accented tricorn hat was long gone.
Castis dropped the pistol and raised his right hand, but his left stubbornly refused to move.
The soldier stopped, and Castis was suddenly very aware that the foot-long bayonet on the end of the soldier's rifle was still sharp; and the Queensguard in front of him, in spite of his young age and his archaic uniform, knew how to use it.
Swallowing again, Castis said, "It's all good soldier, the area is secured."
The man tensed slightly, and Castis genuinely thought the young soldier was going to spear him; when he heard, "Daddy! Daddy!"
Both Castis and the Queensguard turned to see little Solana running towards them; and she froze upon seeing the soldier holding Castis at gunpoint. She squeaked out, "D-d-don't hurt my daddy!"
Just then another human, a policeman this time, came up behind the soldier and set a hand on his shoulder; "Easy there corporal, he's friendly."
The soldier blinked, then slung his rifle; and Castis felt all the tension and adrenaline fall out of his body. Suddenly he was very acutely aware of the pain in his shoulder, and he groaned loudly; sliding down the side of the car, trying to put some pressure on the wound as blue blood spurted from it.
"Solana! Castis!"
Castis blinked as Salus knelt next to him, and he recognized her going into 'doctor' mode as she examined his injuries.
She turned to the policeman, "I need an ambulance. GSW to the shoulder. Contact the Turian embassy for blood donors and medical equipment." She ordered in that voice that all doctors had when they were going to work.
"Copy that." The policeman replied without hesitation, even as he began directing the growing number of Queensguard and City Watch soldiers.
Garrus toddled up then, with Solana behind him; both staring at him with wide eyes.
"Da hurt." Garrus whimpered.
Castis sucked in a breath, "I'm okay kids, I was just an idiot."
Salus growled, "Yes, yes you are." She turned to the Queensguard soldier that had almost bayoneted him, and she barked out. "Soldier, you and one of your comrades, please take my children to safety."
"Of course ma'am." The soldier replied dutifully, even as he bent down and picked up Solana, while another walked up and grabbed Garrus.
"Daddy!" Solana wailed, even as the soldiers hurried off, and Castis leaned against the car chassis.
"Ma'am." A policeman suddenly said, breaking through the haze of pain and blood loss that Castis was falling into. "We need to open this door."
"Use the other side, I got a bleeder here." Salus barked back.
"Sorry ma'am, the other side's jammed." The Policeman replied.
Salus growled, then she and a soldier shuffled Castis to the side, "Make it quick then."
Unfortunately, they didn't move Castis over quite enough; so when the door swung open, it smashed into his wounded arm and shoulder. Castis' vision turned blue, and he screamed in pain; before he finally blacked out.
Arya was in the godswood when she felt it. She heard the explosions in the city, but more importantly, she felt the danger her siblings were in.
She stumbled as she heard Brandon shouting at his sailors to evacuate.
She heard Benjen screaming there was a grenade, and screaming for Domera.
She heard Domera's screams of terror, her begging for help; begging for mercy.
She heard Rickard shouting in surprise and fury, telling his wife to get onto the floor of their car.
Arya held her chest, her head throbbing and her heart pounding; feeling as if it might explode out of her chest at any moment. She also had a massive headache, and she felt tears running down her face. She pressed one hand to her chest, and the other to her temple; bracing herself against the ancient Weirwood tree.
My family is in danger. She thought frantically.
She wanted to run to find them, but she couldn't bring herself to move; she could barely even think, even as images and sounds were drilled into her eyes and ears.
"My Queen!"
Arya blinked rapidly, and glanced over as a Queensguard Corporal rushed over to her; his greycoat and black tricorn somewhat rumpled. "Wha-" She wheezed, still holding her chest.
"My gods!" The man exclaimed, his face draining of color. "Your Grace, you're crying blood!"
Arya blinked rapidly and wiped her cheeks, feeling slightly faint upon seeing the red blood staining her fingers; the color standing out heavily against her pale skin. Then the world began to spin, and Arya suddenly found herself lying on the ground; barely able to breath, and with immense pain in her chest and head.
The Corporal and four other Queensguard stood over her, and she knew she saw the Maester and the Medic as well.
"She's having a godsdamned heart attack!" She heard the medic exclaim, and she blinked rapidly. "And the Weirwood is shoving visions into her brain. We need to get her out of here!"
Ah… that would explain it. She thought, wanting to lift her head up and say she was alright; but couldn't find the strength to do so.
Instead, she rasped out, "Brothers. Sisters. In trouble."
All of the men paled at that, and she knew then; that the flashes, and voices that she had been hearing from the Weirwood had indeed been real. Summoning the last of her strength, she wheezed, "Robb, in charge."
Then she slumped her head back and knew no more.
A/N: Alrighty… looks like the Stark luck has finally struck, and now the Starks are hurtin'. I suppose it's time I answer some questions that people have been throwing at me through PM's.
-First things first, this story will not cover the main Mass Effect games except through Omakes and maybe a few bonus chapters; because except for personality changes, and some crew making early appearances, I'm not seeing much change.
-Now, If there is some confusion as to what Arya did to Balak; that's kinda the point. The only people who know what happened when Arya castrated Balak are the two of them, Frost, and myself; and I'm not telling what happened.
It's honestly up to you guys, did Arya simply give Balak a message before cutting his dick off? Or did she do what Balak said she did? Or is it somewhere in the middle? It's a riddle for the ages.
-Next, I got some questions regarding Jon Snow, Arya Stark (from GOT, not ours), and Bran 'The Broken' (God… that is just… painful to say. If anyone besides Tyrion had suggested an elective Monarchy, I would have been fine with it).
I'll start with Bran: for all intents and purposes, after the Second Long Night was over, he ruled for the rest of his life. The Princedom of Dorne, and the Iron Islands broke away to form their own kingdoms; and the Riverlands and the Vale split off and joined the North to form the United Kingdom, because Edmure Tully and Robert Arryn were just… idiots that no one liked and the people felt safer under the North and Sansa.
Bran pretty much just let this happen, because he didn't really care about the kingdom; and he also saw the writing on the wall, and knew that trying to stop them from breaking away would only break the kingdom further.
Plus, what could he do, realistically?
Next is Arya: Uh… I'll be honest, what she did after is kind of a spoiler for the next chapter; so I won't say much beyond the fact that she married Gendry and had kids with him. She got a happy ending.
Finally, Jon Snow/Stark/Targaryen: I mentioned in an earlier author's note that the truth of his parentage was something that was taken to the grave; and I stand by that decision, because realistically that was the only way he and his descendants wouldn't get killed.
Jon essentially became "Warden-Protector of the Free Folk", which for all intents and purposes meant that he was King of the Free Folk in all but name; and his house, the Snowstarks, are pretty much the same as the Karstarks, a cadet branch of the main family.
Now, theoretically, someone could connect the dots in the modern day (in universe); or simply take a blood test, and his most current descendant would be traced back to the Targaryens.
But what difference would it make?
Think of Charlemagne, he ruled over the Frankish Empire which includes all of France, west and south Germany, most of Italy, parts of northern Spain, Switzerland, the Netherlands, Belgium, Luxembourg, and parts of Austria.
Now the most direct linear descendant of Charlemagne that I know of was Sir Christopher Lee (may he Rest in Peace), and his daughter Christina Erika Lee; and then her two children whom I was unable to find any info about.
In theory? Christina Erika Lee is the current heir to the thrones of all the country's I listed above; and technically has more of a claim to be Empress of the Holy Roman Empire than any of the Hapsburgs since she has more of a direct lineage and bloodline to the original Holy Roman Emperor.
Realistically? She's heir to nothing, because it's been over 1000 years since a member of the house of Charlemagne has ruled anything directly. Of the country's I listed, most of them don't even have Kings or Queens anymore; and those that do already have pretty well established ruling families.
Westeros is the same way in regards to any of Jon Snow/Stark/Targaryen's descendants.
Technically, yes they do have a claim to be rulers of Westeros. Practically, they have no claims to anything because it's been 2000 years since any Targaryen has ruled anything; and at least half of the seven kingdoms they used to rule over don't even have Kings or Queens anymore.
-Let's see… what else… The Confederation of the Midlands (which is just the Westerlands ruling over the Stormlands, Reach, and Crownlands as puppets) is pretty much just Planetos' France. They go through governments like clockwork, and were once the terror of the continant; and now, while they aren't weak, they are a shadow of their former power and glory.
This was something of an unintentional parallel, but one I'm sticking to.
Tywin Lannister was pretty much the Napoleon of Westeros; pretty much all their modern borders and peoples can be traced back to him and his actions. The Dornish, while always a bit distant from the other kingdoms, was still tied to the Iron Throne. The sack of Kings Landing, and The Mountain and Lorch's murder of Elia Martell and her children pretty much guaranteed that Dorne would at some point break away to form their own country.
Tywin's inability to raise his own children led to them becoming what they are, and Cersei and Jamie's incest led to Joffrey; who in turn led to killing Ned Stark, and starting a war in the process. Robbs rebellion with the North and Riverlands nearly caused House Stark to go extinct, since Tywin decided to reenact The Rains of Castamere; and in turn led to the Boltons and Freys going extinct (and the Lannisters nearly joining them) when the Starks bounced back and retook their Kingdoms.
-In keeping with Westerosi-Earth parallels, the Westerosi Union is pretty much like a combination of NATO and the Proposed Franco-British Union. Each of the countries that make it up are mostly autonomos; but they all share the same law and the same Head of State.
I'll give you three guesses as to who the Head of State will be.
Now before people start coming at me an pointing out how unrealistic it is, I again point to the IRL counterparts of the Franco-British Union and NATO. The F-B Union almost certainly would have fallen apart once World War II had ended, at least not without major modifications to what they had planned once France was liberated.
Like the French and the British, the nations of Westeros are facing a threat none of them can stand against alone. Unlike the French and the British, the nations of Westeros do have shared history; they have shared languages, their nobility have often married making political and economic ties to each other, and above all else the people that live in these nations feel a connection with each other.
-Next chapter is going to get a little dark… not A Song of Ice and Fire dark, but dark; just thought I'd warn you guys. I'm not changing this stories rating to M, but there will be a few sections that skirt the line; and to avoid the story getting nuked, I plan on marking those sections with an (M+) so you can skip if you want.
Like I said before, they won't be hard torture or anything like that; but there will be some lewd stuff and some psychological torture. I'll also give the same message at the beginning of the next chapter as well so people really get the message.
-Small rant about GOT's ending: I'm kind of sick of people saying, "The ending only sucked because they didn't have a book to go off of." Yeah, I don't buy that; because GRRM was in close contact and constantly advising Benioff and Weiss on what to do; because Martin is pretty old, and he's not the healthiest of individuals, so he probably told them how the books would end and how things would get there in case he died before he or W&B finished their respective series.
If that is the case, then it makes sense why GRRM has not released his latest book and is constantly rewriting it.
How GOT ended was probably how GRRM wanted it to end; for all the build up around Jon Snow to mean nothing and to have his "destiny" stolen out from under him.
But then he saw how everyone reacted to the ending (everyone, even many of the actors themselves, hated it. Kit Harrington even remarked that he was pissed when he learned that Jon Snow doesn't kill the Night King); and he realized that he needed to rewrite pretty much everything... only now he doesn't want to because it means going against his own ideology regarding story telling.
So GRRM has written himself into a corner. Either he acknowledges that the Tolkien method is the way to do storytelling; and rewrites the story with a better ending... Or he doubles down, and publishes an ending he knows everyone hates.
Sorry, needed to get that off my chest.
-Right then, please leave a review and tell me what you guys think; the feedback really helps me and it also gives me the motivation to keep going.
A TV Tropes page and recommendation would be loved and appreciated.
And I will see ya when I see ya.