"Winter is coming." - Eddard Stark
Chapter 4: Prophecies
Varys
The days following her visit to Nanna Margot had been tedious and bland. What they had spoken about however, seemed to be an ever present whisper in the back of her mind. The Targaryen dynasty had to rise to power again, the Martells with them. It was that way that Varys found her, brow furrowed in contemplation as she sat on the desk.
The inn where he requested the meet -Golden Crown- was situated in King's Landing itself, near the Old Gate where it would be less suspicious for him to be found. The girl had grown a lot in the two summers he had last seen her he noted, her figure had become more womanly and the lingering childlikeness had given way to maturity.
"Princess Marylean. It has been a long time," he greeted her formally as he would address any royal.
Marylean had heard the door open and close, yet refused to look up before the Lord of Whispers spoke. "Lord Varys, still the only person here who would dare call me that. I see the Gods had yet to bless you with hair."
The Master of Whispers stood before her in all his robed glory, arms folded, covered by sleeves. "And the Gods had yet to bless you with a guard for your mouth, Princess."
She arched an eyebrow, a slight smirk playing about her rose coloured lips."I learned from the best, my Lord."
He walked up to her and took one of her slender hands in his, placing a kiss upon it. "We have a myriad of matters that needs to be discussed, Princess."
"Indeed we do, my Lord. Wine?"
Varys shook his head as he sat in a chair, facing Marylean as she was still perched on the desk."There has been rumours regarding the King's children," Varys began, gauging her reaction.
"Usurper, my Lord, and we both know those are not rumours." Although her face remained impassive, her biting tone betrayed her true feelings; anger and hate held by a thin thread. They continued their discussion as such, Marylean delivering snide remarks wherever the Baratheons and more importantly Robert was mentioned, while Varys asked about her travels. Birds didn't always return after all.
"The Targaryens in Essos have caused quite the stir recently, I find it rather peculiar that you have not joined them, Princess." Marylean watched the man intently, trying to read his true intent. Surely he knew about their impromptu detour before their return to King's Landing.
"Yes, well, I didn't agree to Visereys' terms in ridding the realm of half blooded Targaryens." Varys didn't prod further. He knew after all, about the marriage proposal. The boy was thinking with his dick and now that he saw her, he could clearly see why. "A shame I'm sure, they would be welcomed allies."
"I have Dorne backing me, my Lord. They have kept me secret all these years." With those words Marylean stood and made for the door, only to stop and glance at the robed man once more.
"I would advise you to pick a side, my Lord. The separation of the pack has begun, the war is upon us."
The cold crept upon Varys the moment the Princess had departed. He stood and glanced at the spot she had occupied but moments before. Stories of a hazel eyed child from a few summers prior seemed to be turning into a prophecy.
Marylean
The sun hung low in the sky as Marylean departed, an orange tinge cast upon the lands. She had ventured out alone this time as Darion had left them temporarily after her return from Flea Bottom. In truth, speaking to the higher lord's that knew who she was, affirmed that she had at least control over some things; what she let them see being the most prominent.
The visit left her irritable and the drunken carriage driver's singing certainly did not help her mood. With a sigh, she sat back against the hay bales and mentally started ticking off all the preparations that had to be made: send a letter to Dorne, informing them of the course of action that needed to be taken. Rhayna would see to that, her older friend had insisted on delivering it and returning to the arms of her lover.
Lady Mayor had spoken about other Targaryen loyalists to be rallied, but most of all, Marylean wanted the night to end with a hot bath in scented oils, talking about nonsensical things.
Shouts and screams filled the air, thickened by smoke as they arrived in Rosby. "Ya damn well sure to be stayin' ere miss?" The man said, voice muffled by his cloth covered hand, as they came to an abrupt halt. "I ain't goin' no further. Those are the royal guards, be roamin' about. Best get leavin', oi, miss, payment, oi!".
Marylean didn't look back at the disgruntled man, shouting after her as she made for the square where the commoners gathered. Curiosity and fear fueling her fire.
Serves him right for causing her ears to nearly bleed from his atrocious singing. She pulled her now clean red cloak further against her as she pushed to get to the front, her hood already drawn up, obscuring most of her face. Her stomach dropped and blood ran cold at the sight that awaited her.
Lannister guards were in the center of the chaotic square, swords drawn and helms removed. Jagged pieces of furniture created a circle around a woman, broken and beaten, tied to a pole of a two story dwelling. At once Marylean recognized the bronze skin and raven hair. Daena. A man stood next to her, knife at her throat, as he spoke for all to hear.
"This woman is harboring a criminal, a long lost Targaryen cunt. Witness, people of Rosby, her punishment for crimes against the crown and know that any accomplices will be met with the same fate!" His voice boomed as he spoke, silencing all spectators. A man, baring a flaming torch had sidled up to him at this point, mouth pulled into a cruel sneer as he violated the woman with his free hands.
Marylean wanted to scream, shout out, but found that all thoughts of help had suddenly fled her. Fear rooted her on the spot and memories suddenly flashed before her eyes: her and Rhayna as young children, Daena telling them to keep quiet under the small bed as three men came into their small establishment in Pentos. She had been seven name days old, when they had fallen on harsher times. Coin was little and Daena had borrowed from the wrong person.
He, coupled with two of his men, had broken into their cottage early that morning. Daena had barely had enough time to shove Rhayna and herself underneath the straw bed and tell them to be quiet in a shaky voice before they had came in.
Even though she had been young, she could still remember as clear as day, how those men had leered at Daena. Crying, she and Rhayna had silenced one another. The bed had sunken in at some stage and they'd had to flatten themselves on the floor. Tearing of clothes could be heard as the men laughed harshly and asked where the children were. Daena did not answer them. Although she had not known at that stage the gravity of the situation, she did remember that it had been the first time she could remember what true fear was.
Darion, at that time still just a scary bear, had suddenly appeared at the doorway. That was also the first time Marylean had witnessed a real sword fight. The three men had not stand a chance against him and were slain quickly. Shaking and smelling foul, Rhayna and Marylean had crawled out from under the bed when Darion had left with the three bodies, only to find Daena naked upon the sheets. Rhayna had covered her mother and that night, after Darion had returned, they all slept on the floor, huddled close to each other.
"Daena Sand, answer this question and we shall end your suffering. Where is Marylean Targaryen?" The man leered as he punched the defenseless woman once more.
A gurgled laugh escaped Daena's mouth as she spat up blood. She was weak, were it not for the ropes holding her fast, she would've surely been a crumpled heap.
"Go fuck yourself!" Even from the distance, Marylean could hear her raspy voice heave as she stood, shell shocked and baring witness to the Lannister's roar. A cruel laugh escaped the booming man's mouth as he harshly grabbed Daena by her right ear and cut it off.
The anguished scream that followed propelled Marylean to take action and push through. But before she could even take the first a step, a bear of a man appeared at her side, gripping her right wrist in a vice as he stared on, face impassive. The violator lowered the flames towards the circle of broken furniture.
"Step forward Marylean Targaryen, or watch as we burn this whore," he screamed as he scanned over the spectators intently.
Darion's grip on her arm became harsher, bruising. At this point Marylean wasn't sure whether it was to keep her back or himself. She did not care. Daena's eyes seemed to find hers then and with a softness that could only pass between mother and child, they held her in her spot as she bared witness to her guardian's bloody smile.
"Run!" Those last words were screamed as the woman was engulfed in flames, Lannister's tearing down the bystanders, and propelled the heartbroken princess and her companion into action as they made haste back to Rostine Inn.
...
The streets of Rosby had been a massacre. Lannister guards had pillaged and raided homes and markets in search for the fugitive, and a lot of commoners fell victim to their lashing swords and hateful fists. Atop the hill, a few leagues away, a man wrought with sadness and a beauty distorted by grief was standing, the flames of the burned town reflecting in his eyes.
"Dorne would be too obvious for a party of three and the Lannister and Baratheon forces are too strong to fend off presently. Rhayna will have no problem delivering the news and what the best course of action would be. We'll march to the winter wastelands."
The voice that spoke was eerily quiet, yet haunting. Darion did not deliver a verbal response, only turned the horse around, the princess following.
Robb
The grey light of the Northern sun illuminated the clearing with its murky glow. The harsh sound of steel against steel and the sickening sweet melody of steel placing a harsh kiss upon flesh filled the space as the Northern army continued with its unrelenting attack.
The metallic scent of spilled blood filled the air as yet another Lannister fell victim to the Young Wolf's fury. His eyes quickly skimmed the battlefield around him, noting that the numbers of the foe were dwindling. His hand tightened around the hilt of his sword as he met his attacker, almost completely severing his head and clashed against another instantly.
What happened next in this war depended on this moment. That was the thought Robb had carried onto the field with him and that was the thought in his head as he brought low another Lannister. Robb lifted his arms, drawing his sword back before he swung, meeting his next opponents blow with precision.
His father had always told him that a large part of how successful you were in combat was decided by your awareness of what was happening around you, but this wasn't just combat; this battle could change the tides and that kept Robb ever aware of where the Kingslayer was. As he parried the next blow his opponent threw at him, he knew victory was theirs.
Hardly a Lannister man was still standing, their slain bodies soiling the ground in a scarlet red. Robb wasn't surprised to see that all the stories he'd been told of Jaime Lannister's prowess on the battlefield were true. The man fought without fear as if he had nothing to lose and everything to gain.
Alas, the Lion's relentlessness proved futile as he was bound and taken prisoner. Robb looked at Grey Wind at his side, looking proud and undefeated before mounting his alabaster horse and taking his ride of victory back to camp. A sliver of hope had gripped his heart. With the capture of the Queen's brother he was one step closer to reuniting the pack.
