Wardship 290-291 AC, 8-7 years before the events of Game of Thrones begin. Brief history for Ramsay lasting from 292 AC to present events.
Winterfell
While Roose's trueborn son and heir Domeric was sent to the Vale as a squire for House Redfort with the intention of becoming a knight, the lord of the Dreadfort knew that he could not afford to put all of his eggs in one basket. He was certain that Domeric could serve as a good heir to their house, but there was such a thing as pure bad luck. All it would take is for his horse to take a bad fall with him on it to end his life, and he saw no need to take the risk of leaving his house unprepared when he didn't have to.
In the spirit of keeping House Bolton ready, Roose had sent his liege lord a request in the hopes of sending his bastard son Ramsay Snow as a ward. He knew that it would likely be best to simply leave the bastard with his wretch of a mother instead of putting any actual effort into him, but at the same time he knew to simply leave him be rather than acknowledging him was asking for trouble in the future. If he did, there was every possibility that Ramsay would cause trouble for Domeric in the future.
He knew it was unlikely that Lord Stark would accept the request, but he knew there was a chance if only due to him having brought his own bastard home to raise among his family. To his great satisfaction, Eddard had indeed accepted the request allowing his eight year old bastard to ward at Winterfell. A suitable chance to gain influence, and likely the Starks way of trying to build a bridge between their two houses without marriage, though all Roose cared for was how this could improve the standing of House Bolton and ensure he was prepared to lose Domeric should such an event ever occur.
And so the young Ramsay was sent with a small armed guard to ward at Winterfell, being greeted by the Stark family in its entirety. A small Sansa gripped her mother's hand in curiosity while she looked on at the approaching banners baring the flayed man, half a dozen men-at-arms riding along with the young Ramsay Snow. Catelyn Stark looked at the boy coldly and with slight disdain as she held a young Arya, rocking the newest of the Starks gently. Robb stood next to his father, attempting to stand tall and imitate his lord father while Jon stood on his other side, not being hidden away due to the nature of their visitor.
When Ramsay dismounted from his horse, the young boy bowed to the Starks as they did the same, with the exception of Lady Stark. "Welcome to Winterfell, young Ramsay. I'm Eddard Stark, lord of Winterfell. I would like to introduce you to the rest of my family. My wife, Catelyn Stark." The daughter of Hoster Tully only nodded her head at the boy, not seeing much reason to do anything else, "My sons, Robb Stark and Jon Snow." Though both boys bowed respectfully, Ramsay took an interest with Jon as he stared at him in curiosity. "And my daughters, Sansa and Arya Stark, with Sansa being my oldest daughter." It was clear to Ramsay that the babe in Lady Starks arms was meant to be Arya, with Sansa shyly hiding behind her mother's skirts and giving the bastard of House Bolton a small wave.
"A pleasure to meet you all." Ramsay once more bowed to the members of House Stark, being a bit more well spoken than Eddard and Catelyn had expected. Though it made sense that Roose ensured his son, even if he was base-born, knew how to speak. He doubted the man would tolerate the embarrassment of a boy representing his house speaking the same as any of the small folk, "Thank you for allowing me into your home, I'm grateful for the chance you have given me Lord Stark."
"Think nothing of it. Jon here will take you to your quarters. I hope you enjoy your time here." And so Eddard left the courtyard along with Robb and the rest of his family, with Catelyn not bothering to give either of the northern bastards a second glance as she left. Sansa waved one last time at her brother and their new ward before she left with the rest of her family, while Robb offered them both a smile before rushing to catch up with his father.
Jon was left alone with Ramsay, while the Bolton men-at-arms departed from the castle due to no longer being needed to safeguard Roose's bastard, the two Snows simply standing in an awkward silence. Ramsay looked around at the courtyard, little wonder lighting up his eyes when Jon finally spoke up, "I'll take you where you're supposed to stay Ramsay." The young bolton followed the other Snow to the Great Keep, being brought to the guest quarters for the castle and to a room close to the end of the hall. "This will be your room."
Ramsay opened the door and was satisfied with the quarters provided, turning to Jon with a small smile, "Thank you for showing me my room. Where are you staying? I'd like to know in case I ever need help finding my way around." Jon frowned at the other boy, wondering why he would want him specifically before shrugging off such thoughts and leading him to the servants quarters. It was at the end of that hall where his own room lay, a small room with the necessities needed for a young boy.
Ramsay, though the rooms were still more than livable, couldn't help but be surprised. He had expected that, seeing as Lord Stark had felt the need to raise the boy at Winterfell in the first place, that perhaps he would be kept with the rest of the family if not in another room in the guest quarters at the very least. The fact that he was being kept in the servants quarters wasn't at all what he had been expecting, especially not when even his own father kept him in the family quarters. "This is my room. Lady Stark assigned them to me a while ago."
The Snow ward couldn't help but frown at that little tidbit. He had noticed the way Catelyn had eyed him with disdain, so he supposed it must have been due to his baseborn status. He hadn't expected Lord Stark to allow his flesh and blood to be treated in such a way, even if it was by his lady-wife, "Seems a bit unfair. You're just as much a Stark as her children, except unlike them you actually look the part, something Lady Stark can't say about her own children. Perhaps its an act to cover the fact her own children aren't really Lord Stark's."
Jon couldn't help but gape at his fellow Snow. For not a moment had he ever assumed such a thing, and knowing Lady Stark he knew it was not at all close to the truth. He knew Robb and Sansa and Arya were trueborn, though to have someone so brazenly throw doubt onto the Lady of House Stark... Well, he wished he had the ability to say such a thing about the woman. "Be careful! If Lady or Lord Stark heard you say that they would have your hide tanned!" An exaggeration. He knew his father wasn't one to give extreme punishment, and Lady Stark could do no such thing if it were against her husbands wishes.
It didn't still mean she couldn't put Ramsay through a living hell if she so felt like it.
"And? Perhaps Lady Stark has more northern blood than she lets on with how frigid and cold she is. Not at all proper for a sophisticated southerner, is it?" Ramsay grinned at his fellow snow, and despite himself Jon couldn't help but let out an only slightly unwilling smile. Jon's own fear of her had gotten to a point where he suspected she would always be at the ready to punish him should he show the slightest sign of disrespect, as irrational as such a fear may be. He appreciated the fact that there was someone else who was seemingly on his side, besides his own siblings.
"Let's head out to the yard and spar a bit Ramsay. I wanna see what a Bolton is made out of!" Jon exclaimed, deciding that perhaps with this boy at the least, they could address each other as something more than mere bastards. And so the two boys went to the yard to spar with wooden swords under the ever so watchful eye of Ser Rodrik and some of the Stark men-at-arms, Jon having been put in a good mood by the words of his fellow bastard. Though neither were very skilled with a weapon yet due to their age, it was clear that Jon held the edge in pure talent and skill. He hammered away at Ramsay's defenses, the bastard of House Bolton hardly being able to keep up with the other boys skill.
Yet rather than fighting fair, he went and changed tactics. When he was being pushed back by Jon, he put some space between him and the other bastard and acted as if he had tripped. He grabbed a handful of dirt as he fell back, and as Jon advanced to make him yield, he instead threw dirt in the eyes of the other boy. When he yelled out and stepped back to clear the dirt from his eyes, Ramsay quickly got up and put his own sword to his opponents neck. "Yield, Jon!"
"That wasn't fair!" Jon complained as he worked to get the dirt out of his eyes, looking at the other boy from the corner of his eye, "You cheated and threw dirt into my eyes!" Though as he spoke, some of the guards around them as well as Ser Rodrik chuckled as they watched the two boys begin to squabble. Yet he stayed silent, having a feeling that young Jon was about to learn a valuable lesson when it came to fighting.
"What's meant to be fair about killing? Either way no matter how you do it, someone dies." Jon frowned at Ramsay as he cleared the rest of the dirt from his eyes, listening as Ramsay spoke, "So what does it matter how it gets done, as long as you're the one who returns home? Should you die and fail to protect those you care about, just because your opponent fought honorably? Would it be fair for those you care about to never see you again because you restrained yourself in the name of honor?" Jon stayed silent as Ramsay went on, looking away as he found himself agreeing with the other boy on some level.
Ramsay lowered the sword from his neck, and as he looked at the other boys downcast expression he felt his resolve harden. Even if he would never bear the name Bolton, he would always find kinship with another Snow. And so he tapped Jon's shoulder, getting his attention as he stepped back and readied his wooden sword, "Lets go again, Stark. See if you've learned anything." Ser Rodrik nodded in agreement with the lesson Ramsay had taught Jon as the two began to spar once more, happy to have Jon learn this lesson sooner rather than later.
Ramsay stayed as a ward at Winterfell for a year, a year where he grew very close with the Snow of House Stark. Jon helped him develop a bit of a filter as well as curb some of his worse impulses and anger so as to not anger Lady Stark or to get in trouble, though it didn't stop him from voicing his complaints to Jon about the southern trout whenever the two spoke in private. Though Ramsay developed a friendship with Robb and Sansa, it was with Jon who he became as close as a brother with, as well as becoming each others greatest rivals. The two bonded over their shared status as bastards of great northern houses.
Both learned much from one another. Ramsay was made to be a better swordsman sparring with Jon and Robb as well as a rider, while Jon let go of some of his inhibitions in a fight. Though Robb was more stubborn about fighting honorably, Jon had taken Ramsay's words to heart. Though he wanted to be seen as more than just the stain on his father's honor, dying in a fight because he wanted to fight fairly would get him nowhere. He thought more outside of the box when it came to fighting, fighting more dirty to win. He had already been a better swordsman than Robb, now the few times where he was close to losing he pulled out a trick to change the tides. Dirt in the eyes, tripping him up, as long as it won him the fight.
Even if Jon felt he was destined for the Watch, at least there was one person who believed in his abilities to be something more than just a bastard, someone else who didn't allow his status to hold him back. Ramsay helped Jon have more confidence, whereas Jon helped Ramsay be a bit more careful and less reckless. The two worked well together, and found that when they worked together were near unstoppable against others. The two Snows had teamed up against Robb and the Greyjoy hostage, Theon having been there for only a year longer than the Bolton bastard. Where Jon grew close with Ramsay, Theon had grown close to Robb. Yet despite the age difference and Robbs own ability with a blade, they found they couldn't compete with the two bastards together.
It was when Catelyn witnessed Jon defeating Robb in another sparring session that her temper finally snapped. She had noticed how his confidence and boldness had grown ever so slightly ever since Ramsay had arrived at Winterfell, and seeing the way he threw dirt in her first borns eyes and tossed him into the dirt once ore was the final straw. She marched up to the boy from behind, grabbing him by the back of his tunic with a sneer, "I have watched this go on for far too long, bastard! You should know your place, and it is not to treat the heir of Winterfell in such a manner! You have no right or worth, bastard!"
Ramsay didn't allow Lady Stark to berate his close friend for long, walking up to the two and grabbing a hold of her, forcing her to release Jon. "I don't know who you think you are, southern trout, but I don't believe it's your place to lay a hand on the son of your Lord husband. Unlike you, he has Stark blood running through his veins, and unlike the rest of your children, he actually looks the part! Or is there something you haven't been telling Lord Stark, you cruel old witch?" All in the courtyard gaped at Ramsay after what he said to Catelyn, though Jon couldn't help but be glad for both his intervention and the fact that he had helped curb his worst tendencies. He had a feeling Ramsay would have harmed Catelyn somehow if he hadn't managed to help him with his worse tendencies.
Catelyn soon dropped the shock in favor of cool anger, letting Jon go and immediately latching onto Ramsay. "We are going to go have a talk with Lord Stark and finally get your taint out of our home, you wicked, wretched little monster." And so she brought him to Winterfell's solar. Eddard knew punishment was necessary for the way Ramsay had spoken to his wife, yet he also knew to inflict any form of physical punishment would only create problems and more bad blood between his own house and that of House Bolton. Rather than physically punish him, he went the only route left available to him.
A moon after the incident, Ramsay was preparing to leave Winterfell, the banners of House Bolton having been sighted on the horizon by scouts. None were in the courtyard to see the bastard off beyond his closest companion, Jon being downtrodden as he held back any tears he felt at knowing his friend was leaving. At knowing he would be alone again, even if he was surrounded by family and those who shared his blood.
They both knew it was unlikely they would ever see each other again. Ramsay didn't want to go to the watch, even if Jon was there, and Jon saw no future for himself outside of the Night's Watch, especially not one that had him interacting with Ramsay anymore on a more regular basis. Jon took in a shaky breath and gazed at his friend sadly, with Ramsay too seeming upset, and knowing the reception he would receive when he returned to the Dreadfort. They reached out their hands and brought each other in for a final hug, pulling back to look at each other in determination.
"Stark, Bolton, we don't need those names. We're Snow's, and it's all we'll ever need. We will always be friends, and should you need it I will always be ready to help you." Jon nodded at Ramsay, determination shining in his own eyes to hold on to this for as long as they could. It wasn't much longer before Bolton men-at-arms arrived to take Ramsay back to the Dreadfort, the young boy going with the half a dozen guards in silence. He looked back in regret at Jon as he rode off, staring at Winterfell even when he could no longer make out the figure of his closest friend.
Over the years at the Dreadfort, Ramsay continued to curb some of his more cruel tendencies, not bothering with the likes of whores to focus on more important matters. Though he ensured a powerful litter of hounds was raised for hunting, he kept them more as guard animals than anything else, as well as occasionally hunting the rogue criminal that dared to roam the lands ruled by House Bolton. In the years following him leaving Winterfell, Ramsay began to ensure he had people loyal and indebted to him. In return? All he wanted was for them to give him information. Eventually, most of the North had either household spies or whores that fed him information.
A year before his brother returned to him, he began to expand his network even further by sending more of his informants to the southern kingdoms. None expected the lowly bastard of House Bolton to be capable of preparing such a network, with Varys and Littlefinger being more focused on playing their games of cat and mouse with one another. Ramsay was free to grow his information network uninhibited, time being the only thing to get in his way. It was six years after he had left Winterfell in two ninety seven AC that he met his older, trueborn brother.
He and Domeric both went on a hunt together, his elder brother thinking it would be a good way for him to bond with his younger baseborn brother, taking some of his hunting hounds with them. While they were on the hunt however, his hounds began to panic, alerting the two to something being wrong. A large bear came at the pair with a loud snarl, Ramsay just barely managing to keep a hold on his horse. The massive predator had charged the heir to the dreadfort, and though Domeric proved to be an excellent rider, his panicked mount ensured they were caught in the path of the animal.
The bear brought down the horse and Domeric along with it, Ramsay managing to put an arrow into the bears head too late. When he looked down at Domeric, he knew his elder brother had little chance of recovery. Despite that, as he got down to try and help him, a thought occurred to him. 'If my father has no other sons to inherit the Dreadfort... it will be that much more difficult for him to get rid of me. I'd be able to do more and be able to help Jon.' Looking down at his brother, he did feel a slight bit of remorse, though he didn't stop to truly reflect on what he was doing. It was difficult to pick up the large animals arm, but he was able to move it in a way to drop the claws in his brothers throat.
Domeric Bolton died in an unfortunate hunting incident, leaving Ramsay to be the only one capable of inheriting the Dreadfort in the event that Roose Bolton passed away. Roose always suspected foul play of some sort, even when his men found the body of the bear Ramsay had described. Ramsay, for all intents and purposes, was the heir to the Dreadfort for the time being. He used the kennel master's daughter, intentionally cultivating her feelings for him and her own brand of madness to suit his own needs. She proved most capable in physically satisfying him, as well as a good handler for his hounds.
As the years passed by and more of his informants made it South, he received news from his lord father. Theon Greyjoy had betrayed Robb Stark and taken Winterfell. The Snows blood boiled at the blatant betrayal, remembering how the hostage had begun to get close with Robb during his time as a ward there. He remembered the disdain that he had treated both himself and Jon with before he had left, but more than anything, he was enraged at Jons home being taken by a damned squid. He ensured that Theon paid a thousand times over for his treason, and that he got anything useful out of the idiot that he could. Information about the Stark boys that he ensured was never repeated to his father.
When Sansa was brought back to Winterfell, Ramsay had a new objective, one that he knew Reek would be most useful for. He helped keep the young Stark safe, with his father helping him even further by ensuring she had guards around her at all times to keep her safe, likely from him. Truth be told, he didn't care all that much. He knew his father suspected him of murdering Domeric, and if he had the assumption he would perform some unbearable cruelty with Sansa then all the better. It would keep her safer from any other undesirables that may wish her harm.
It was when he read the letter that had arrived at Winterfell from Locke that he knew what his father wanted them to do, and he knew he had to leave with haste. He would not allow his close friend to be put in danger, and he knew that Sansa would be kept safe by Reek and the men-at-arms of House Bolton, as well as the few remaining men that were loyal to House Stark that were in the ancient castle. Ramsay rode hard and he rode fast on his exit from the Dreadfort, going alone with supplies as he made his way to the Wall. Locke was at the gate waiting for his arrival, letting the bastard of House Bolton into the crumbling castle and leading him to the Kings Tower.
They remained silent as they made their way in, slowly opening the door to Jons quarters, Ramsay making the slightest bit of noise to alert Jon if he wasn't already awake from the door. He knew his friend was awake when he saw him shift, and was happy to see him prepared for a fight. He was even more happy as he quickly slid the blade of his dagger across Locke's throat, ensuring that he wouldn't have to fight anyway. At seeing Jons dumbfounded face, he spread his arms open wide with the bloodied dagger still held in his grip, a mad grin coming alive on his face, "It's good to see you again, your grace! I hope I'm not intruding though, I have a feeling you don't mind. After all, I did just save your life. What else are friends for, after all?"
Jon still couldn't help but feel some disbelief as he sat with his old friend in the Lord Commanders solar in silence, the two simply enjoying a comfortable silence for the first time in many years. It had been roughly ten years since he had seen him, and he certainly hadn't expected to see him again at his beside cutting the throat of an attempted assassin. After Ramsay had finished telling his tale, the now Bolton leaned back and sighed, shaking his head as he reminisced, "When I heard about what my father had done at the Red Wedding, I had been oh so tempted to slit his throat for killing Robb Stark, for putting a dagger in his heart. Not just because he was a friend of mine, oh no, but because he killed your brother. I knew what you were going to feel after Robb's death, and it made it that much more difficult to not end my father's life. I almost regret not killing him sooner."
Jon stayed silent while Ramsay spoke, contemplating his words and clenching his fists at the confirmation of Roose's part in the event that had been responsible for the deaths of many loyal northern men and women. He compartmentalized for now, knowing now was not the time to let his emotions run free while Ramsay enjoyed the mug of ale that had been given to him, "I will say, this is not much better than pigs piss, but it's still a step up from what my father forced me to drink for a year after Lady Stark so graciously sent me packing back to the Dreadfort. Even if I was itching to kill my father for what he did to Robb, I was glad when I heard she died in the South."
"Don't speak ill of the dead Ramsay." Was his automatic response, despite his own bitter distaste for his uncles wife. He saw no reason to put her down now, not when she had already been slaughtered like a pig by the Frey's, "She's not our concern now. Sansa is. How many guards are kept around her?" He was not previously aware of the fact that Sansa had been brought back to Winterfell, and by that worm Littlefinger at that. Originally he wanted to instill some good will with the rest of the northern lords and to gain their support, though if Sansa was at risk now all those plans had just gone out the window. He would make sure Roose's head sat on a pike first.
"Usually there is only four to keep her company, though there were occasions where I get a bit too interested in her well being for my fathers liking, and my father ensured her guard was doubled at those times as a result. Reek, mm haha, sorry, Theon is always watching over her as I instructed him." It was a small comfort, but at least Jon knew his little sister was well protected. Though they hadn't gotten along well after Catelyn had sunk her claws into her, he hoped that perhaps they could begin to rebuild their relationship. First though, he would have to take her away from Roose.
"Ramsay, can I ask you a favor?" At his companions immediate nod he continued, "I need you to return to Winterfell. I'll mobilize my army and begin our march south and meet with House Umber along the way. I need you to try and get her out. If you have anyone loyal to you besides Theon, then take them with you and get her away from your father. Kill whoever you have to, just make sure she gets out safely. Wait to get her out a week after you get there so you can meet up with my army and we can offer her protection. Can you do this for me?"
Ramsay's face became serious as he nodded at his friend, turning and clasping his arm firmly, "You can count on me. If anyone tries to stop me, they will most certainly come to regret it. With any luck and if all goes well, I'll also be able to bring you the Greyjoy to pass judgement on for the way he committed treason against House Stark. I'm sure you're eager to have words with him and to let him know exactly what you think of him, hm?" Ramsay had already punished Theon plenty for the crimes he had committed in his treason against the North, though it didn't change the fact that Jon himself felt his own blood boiling at the mere thought of the traitor. Of the hostage who had the gaul to belittle him in the open, despite his being there due to his fathers poor attempt at rebellion.
Perhaps with any luck, they could find out more about where his two younger brothers had ended up going after Winterfell had been taken. If they had truly managed to flee and Theon had instead killed two orphan boys in their stead, then they could be anywhere in the North, especially considering the fact that neither of them had bothered to try and come to Castle Black to seek shelter with him. For all he knew, the two could've boarded a ship to Essos to wait things out until it was safe for them to finally come home, and if that was the case it would be near impossible for him to find them. He'd need to wait for them to pop up from somewhere.
Jon sighed to himself as he shook his head, standing from his seat and helping Ramsay to rise as well, "There are still things you've done that I can't let completely go unanswered Ramsay, you know that?" His old friend nodded, with not a hint of shame on his face or in his eyes at some of the things he had done in the past few years, "We'll discuss what we're going to do about that some other time. Right now, I need you to leave to go and rescue my sister and to bring her back to me, with Theon preferably alive. I wish we had more time to catch up."
The former Snow only shrugged at his comment, a confident smirk on his face as he tightly gripped Jon's arm, "I don't. We'll both have plenty of time to talk and make fools of ourselves after we have ensured the North is secured in your grasp. Just one small request?" At Jons nod, he went on to give his one request, "Quite honestly, I could care less about what punishment you end up giving me. I'm sure I'll still be able to serve ensure you get your throne afterwards. Just make sure to properly legitimize me, rather than me having earned the name Bolton from a Waters. It would do you no good for me to be a Snow on your council, after all."
It was an easy enough request to grant.
Meereen
Daenerys sat on one end of a round table while her supposed nephew sat opposite her. Jon Connington sat to the right of her nephew while the current commander of the Golden Company, Harry Strickland, sat to his left. She couldn't help but clench her jaw still at the sight of both him and the infamous imp of House Lannister, though she held back rather than throwing barbs at the two. There was no point in trying to incite conflict between her and "Aegon's" compatriots, this would be a matter that could be brought up at a later date. What was more interesting to her was whether or not Aegon was exactly who he claimed to be.
"I'll make things rather simple. If we each stand opposed to one another, neither of us is going to have a chance to sit on the Iron Throne. Even if Westeros has been ravaged by war for the past few years, we won't have the men to take back our home and our throne if we end up slaughtering each other first." A point she agreed with. It was one of the only reasons why she hadn't sought his head for claiming to be her nephew and having the audacity to come to her city with so little warning, "And I do understand that it is difficult to believe I am who I say I am. I can promise you that my uncle Doran has already sworn Dorne to my cause and all her spears."
Dany tilted her head at the new tidbit of information, bringing a hand up to her chin in thought as she looked at him. The unsullied guards around the room silently watching the meeting unmoving, while her two kingsguard stood close behind her and ready to leap to her defense should anyone in the room make a wrong move. "You claim that Prince Doran has already sworn himself to you? Would you happen to have the proof to support this claim, unlike your other?" She had her doubts that he did. She wanted to simply believe he was her nephew, he certainly had the classic valyrian looks after all. Yet she knew such a thing meant nothing, and he could just as easily be the child of some lysene pillow slave.
To her slight surprise, he calmly nodded and pulled out a folded up piece of paper, one she opened up and began to read silently. 'My dearest nephew. I appreciate you being honest with me, as well as Lord Varys' assurances to your survival. I can't apologize enough for not being able to raise you myself these past few years, that I wasn't able to better safeguard your mother and sister. Perhaps if I had tried harder, insisted more, you wouldn't have had to grow up without either of your parents being there to guide you. If it were not for Oberyn speaking to me about the features you share with my sweet sister, perhaps I would still have my doubts. Perhaps not. Yet I know you are the real thing. Know that when the time comes, Dorne will offer you her spears to take back your crown.'
The signature was indeed from Prince Doran of House Martell though she had Ser Barristan come to confirm it was indeed his signature, having a feeling he would be able to recognize it from when he had served her brother and father. He nodded at the letter and looked at Aegon with shock now properly blooming in his eyes, "Though the letter itself seems to have been written by someone else, likely Oberyn, the signature is indeed Doran's. I had dared to think that you looked much like Rhaegar, to hope, yet I had been disappointed far too often in my life. I am so, so glad to see you alive, Your Grace."
It annoyed Dany just a bit to hear Ser Barristan address another as a monarch, though she knew she couldn't begrudge him for it. If this truly was her brothers son, then he was the rightful heir to the throne, and beyond that he was a king in his own right. That didn't mean she would submit to his claim. Not with how hard she fought to get where she is, "So you may actually be who you claim you are. I hope you understand that changes little?" At seeing the way his head tilted in confusion and his compatriots frowned at her, Jon Connington seemingly close to outright glaring at her, she continued, "For years, I had to suffer Viserys. His manipulations, his degradation, his abuse and depravity and insanity, his greed and hunger for power."
She stood from where she sat and began to circle her guests, the unsullied tightening their grips on their spears while Ser Jorah laid a hand down on the hilt of his sword, "Yet it didn't end with him and his weakness. Next it was Drogo, where I was raped, defiled, and further degraded, and yet I began to learn strength and self-respect. When my husband died and the khalasar abandoned us, I could not afford to wait for another to rescue me. I had to get myself and those loyal to me to safety. Then in Qarth once more I found myself betrayed, deceived by some of those closest to me. In Astapor I was disrespected further, and yet I had to be deceitful myself. I earned my army. I brought dragons back into the world. I conquered cities and freed those forced into bondage for no other reason than the personal gain of others. Like I once was.
"If you think I will step aside for your claim, you are a fool, you and your... advisors." She sneered at Connington and the rest, the three now openly glaring at her while Aegon simply continued to keep his eyes on his aunts, "I know what you're here for. Marriage to combine our claims and our forces. If you thought for even a moment I would work so hard and get to where I'm at just to step aside and be a meek and submissive wife, you couldn't be more wrong." It didn't exactly take a genius to figure out what they were after when they arrived in Meereen. When Aegon began to talk about how they would only destroy each other and ruin their chances to claim the throne, she knew what he was trying to build up to. And she would not let him and his compatriots control the flow of this conversation.
Connington seemed ready to burst at the seams and say something, yet a hand on his shoulder from Aegon seemed to be enough to keep him silent for the time being. Dany couldn't help but be thankful she would be spared from hearing her nephews dogs barking, her nephew standing from his seat at the table while she circled back around to take her seat once more. He licked his lips as he kept his eyes on his aunt, Dany's own frown focused on him. "I will admit, marriage was my first offer to try and combine our claims and prevent any potential infighting between the two of us. It was the preferred choice to make sure we would present a united front when we made our way to Westeros."
She couldn't help but clench her jaw just a little at the confirmation of her suspicions. "Yet I wasn't prepared to let that be the end all for our deal. I had an idea of some of the things you went through at the hands of your brother and Drogo, so I have another offer. I will help you secure Meereen and get the rest of Slaver's Bay back under your control with the help of the Golden Company. If you have enough gold stored in the pyramid, we can hire more respectable companies of sell swords to bolster our forces further. We'll crush the masters, ensure that the bay can always be a fallback in case our campaign does go poorly in Westeros, and ensuring we have further support beyond that of just Dorne. In return, you combine your forces with mine and we set sail to Westeros together to retake our home. If any of your dragons return to you, it would be preferable if they are committed to retaking our kingdoms as well. Agreed?"
All in all, it had been a short audience. As far as Dany could tell, it was a good offer where she had very little to lose. It only ensured her forces would be less likely to be crushed now that all of her dragons had vanished for the time being. She had faith that her Drogon at the least would return to her, he had never failed to exceed her expectations and knew she could rely on him. She wasn't sure about Rhaegal and Viserion, not after the terms they had left her on. Yet she didn't want to accept it outright. She was still slightly annoyed by their initial presumption to try and offer a marriage alliance, as well as having some annoyance due to the presence of Tyrion Lannister and the commander of the Golden Company in her great pyramid. She still hadn't forgotten how the Golden Company had mocked her and her brother when they had come to them for help, how they had driven her elder brother further down a path of madness and desperation.
She would discuss her options as well as the proposal itself with her advisors, in the meantime Aegon and his company could wait for her response to their proposition in the guest quarters. Perhaps it could be considered ever so slightly petty, but at the moment she didn't care. It would help reinforce the image that none of them were the ones in control here. They were in her city and surrounded by her soldiers, and if they wished to deal with her, they would need to play by her rules for the duration of their stay. She would make sure her forces were given their own ships and kept away from the rest of Aegon's forces, wanting to keep her people together and Aegon's away from hers, in the event they planned to slit her men's throats in their sleep to remove her as a threat rather than having her assistance in the wars to come.
Though if there was one thing that she was certain of, she was happy to a certain extent. She was glad that she was no longer the last Targaryen. It was only a shame she didn't know of the third head of the dragon that was already preparing to retake their home.
King's Landing
As Olenna had suspected, it wasn't exactly difficult for Margaery to convince Tommen to allow her to return to High Garden to visit her other brothers. To convince him of just how much she missed Willas and Garlan, something she was quite grateful for. Loras was arranged as their guard, once more going to plan, while Mace arranged many of the Tyrell men-at-arms that had accompanied them to go with them as an escort. The Queen of Thorns had quite enjoyed the side glances Cersei threw her and her family's way, knowing that the queen-mother was most likely frustrated with how Margaery was able to woo her young son just like her first.
She couldn't help but stifle cackles when she realized Cersei was drinking even more after it was made clear the Tyrells, with the exception of Mace, were leaving the capital. There were times where the rage was so blatantly obvious that she had to excuse herself if only to ensure she didn't openly mock Cersei. The way her face reddened and her jaw clenched as she laid eyes upon her or her granddaughter, it was delightful. Cersei was no true player in the game, though she certainly considered herself to be a more dangerous player than she really was. Her arrogance only made it that much easier to outplay her, especially now with Tywin out of the way and incapable of serving as a rival, both politically and militarily.
It wasn't long before the Tyrell party found themselves leaving the city, well over a hundred Tyrell men-at-arms surrounding them while Loras rode at the head of the group. She rode in a carriage with her granddaughter, noticing that she seemed more relaxed now that they were out of the city and away from the Red Keep. She couldn't blame her, even if they had men loyal to them around the castle and city it didn't change the fact that, at times, Cersei could be unpredictable. They had heard of the attempt on Tyrion's life in the middle of the battle when Stannis attacked King's Landing, and there was little doubt it was Cersei's doing. Though she had her doubts, she wouldn't put it past Cersei to have some hired thugs try and put an end to any of the Tyrell's lives.
Yet as they rode further and further away from the capital, they were able to hear some sort of commotion starting outside of their carriage. The carriage halted, and after a few moments she heard the tale tell signs of swords being drawn as their men-at-arms seemed to get ready for combat. Despite her age, Olenna refused to sit still and wait for a report on what was going on, opening the door and leaning out of her carriage to gain the attention of one of the men guarding them, "You! What in the seven hells is going on? Why have we stopped and why are you all getting ready for a fight?"
She assumed perhaps it would be a group of bandits trying to hold them up or something of that nature, knowing that the recent wars had encouraged many to try and make their living off of the suffering of others. She raised an eyebrow as he looked ahead nervously and licked his lips, palming the hilt of his sword atop his horse, "It's the Faith Militant. It's hard to guess how many of them there are, but if I was to make a rough estimate I would say there are well over a hundred of them. They're here to try and take Ser Loras into custody... as well as Lady Margaery."
It couldn't be more clear to her what exactly had happened, and she knew she would make sure Cersei paid for what she tried to pull. She knew Loras wouldn't willingly go along with them, and she would never allow them to take her granddaughter. The way she saw things, there was only one sensible solution to this problem, though it was the kind of solution she rather would avoid normally. "I want all these religious thugs killed. Give the word to Loras then begin and make sure to keep my grandchildren safe. Keep their leader alive so I can make sure that we send Cersei and the High Sparrow back his head."
She sat back down in the carriage and closed the door, and but a few minutes later the sounds of battle began. Her granddaughter looked quite worried as the sounds of battle surrounded them, weapons clashing and the screams of dying and injured men as they clashed. Olenna reached a hand across and put it across one of her golden roses, clenching it softly as she gave her a soft smile while men died around them, "Don't worry my dear, just a bit of trouble Cersei tried to send our way. Your brother and our loyal men-at-arms will take care of it, and she'll learn her lesson." Margaery stayed silent and simply smiled back at her grandmother, the cries of dying men continuing on around them.
The battle didn't last long, the members of the Faith Militant though outnumbering the men-at-arms, their numbers advantage was all they had and it was not by much. The men of the Reach were well trained and well equipped, and proved themselves more than capable of taking care of a couple of religious up-jumped thugs. A few minutes after the cries of dying men went out, there was a knock on the door to her carriage, Olenna opening it to see Loras standing there. His breathing was hardly labored, likely having had little difficulty dealing with the opponents he was given, fresh blood still dripping from his blade. "We have their leader grandmother. It's Lancel, the queens cousin. Seems he's risen quite high in the circles of the sparrows."
If there was any doubt that this was Cersei's handiwork, it died with knowing that her cousin was involved. Perhaps it was a coincidence, yet either way she was still fairly certain that this had Cersei written all over it. At first she thought of simply having his head removed from his shoulders and sent back to King's Landing as a message, yet as she thought about it she knew that wouldn't keep her occupied or stop her from sending more thugs after them. Olenna smirked as she looked at Loras and put one of her weathered hands on his armored shoulder, "Release him, send him back to his High Sparrow. Tell him it's the only mercy that will be afforded for daring to accost our family on the road. While you're at it, ensure that Lancel spills every sinful secret we know about Cersei. Incest, cuckolding her husband and king, attempted murder. I have a feeling the High Sparrow will put more focus on the queen-mother then us when he hears about this."
Loras left her in the carriage, and another few minutes went by as Lancel was sent on his way to report back to his order of zealots. She was certain that the High Sparrow already knew of some of Cersei's misdeeds, or had at least heard the rumors, but to have information coming from a high born lady from the Reach? That would certainly be something he could more easily put to use, and she was looking forward to the chaos that would ensue to the foolish lion of Lannister.
Yes, hello, been a while, though I'm sure y'all are used to it. I did say I would never have a consistent schedule, though I'm amazed I was able to just suddenly write this out. I don't think I have all that much to say honestly, as much as I just want to get this out there. Yes, I do plan to actually make Faegon Aegon instead, as I feel that would be a nice little piece of drama when word reaches Jon at the wall and when they do eventually sail to Westeros. The more I've thought about it, the more I've decided to come upon Jon marrying a northern woman for love, rather than politics, and then having a second wife to cover the political aspect of things. If I remember right, Rhaenys was the wife Aegon loved more, while his elder sister Visenya was the one he married as dictated by Valyrian tradition. Hope y'all enjoyed the chapter and are doing well.
OH! And I got two other stories in the works, which is part of why this is taking a while as well. One is another game of thrones fic, one based more on a very powerful North backing Jon and, more importantly, Vhagar! The other is actually a Jurassic World fanfiction that I have a few chapters ready for already, one that will incorporate certain elements from the Telltale games and pretty much immediately sidetrack from canon. If anyone is interested in assisting with either story, or will want to read them, DM me or let me know in the reviews!
