The cold winds over Castle Black howled mightily. The Wall had been engulfed by the darkness of a moonless night. Inside the fortress, the brothers of the Night's Watch slept soundly. However, slumber eluded the Lord Commander, Jon Snow. He looked up at the wooden ceiling above him as he allowed intrusive thoughts to consume his mind.
Could he have saved Robb if he had left that night? That question came more often than he'd like to allow. If he was there he and Robb most likely would've found a way out of the Twins. Once he received word of what happened at the Twins he wanted nothing more than to ride down the Riverlands and carve out Walder Frey and Roose Bolton's heart out.
Could he have protected Bran and Rickon if he had stayed? He hasn't heard about his brothers since the Greyjoys took Winterfell. Sam had told him that he had met Bran at the one of the many abandoned castles that belonged to the Watch. He was accompanied by Hodor and two other children when he went north of the Wall.
His worry over Bran was only eclipsed over his worry of Rickon. Rickon was too young to fend for himself so why wouldn't he be with Bran? Maybe the Greyjoys killed him.
What's happened to Sansa? Jon wasn't ashamed to admit the satisfaction he felt when he heard of the Purple Wedding. He didn't feel any guilt when he fondly thought of Joffrey's face turning a deadly shade of purple as he gagged on blood and bile before eventually checking to death. The only thing that worried him was that Sansa was declared a fugitive and had gone missing. Where is she, is she safe?
Is Arya truly dead? He hasn't heard anything about her for so long he had to assume that she perished long ago. Anger rumbled just beneath his skin. He knew that if he ever got the chance he'd cut any of the Lannisters down with Longclaw just for the slim chance of murdering his sister's killer.
He knows he'll never have answers to any of those questions. He is the Lord Commander now and needs to prepare the fight against the Others. It seems impossible to truly prepare for the fight even with Stannis Baratheon's army. Could Stannis really be the hero the red witch spoke of in her religious rants or could she only be speaking out of her ass?
Ghost's whining pulled him out of his mind. He looked over at the wolf to see it looking at the door of his room. He assumed the wolf only needed to relieve himself and stood up. Jon scratched Ghost's furred neck with his ungloved hand before he opened the door of the wolf. Ghost rushed off too fast for him just to seek a wooden post to relieve himself.
What's gotten Ghost so riled up?
Throwing on his cloak, boots and gloves he quickly trailed after the wolf who ran down the hallways. Jon was forced to pick up his pace when the wolf began to leave him behind. Ghost seemed to be chasing after something. The wolf eventually stopped at the door to Maester Aemon's room.
"Ghost." Jon sighed, "Maester Aemon isn't here anymore."
A passing shadow in the light beneath the door causes Jon to freeze. He glared at the door before he silently drew Longclaw. The wolf looked up at Jon as he reached for the doorknob. In one swift motion Jon swung the door open and pointed his sword into the dark room.
Jon looked around the room to find it completely empty. He cautiously inspected the room before he saw the open trunk at the foot of Aemon's bed. He looked inside to find it empty save for a black cloth. He reached down and picked it up.
It was the Targaryen sigil.
Jon allowed himself a moment to look over the blood-red three-headed dragon. He thought back to his siblings, the fall of his house and home. Is this what Maester Aemon felt when Robert Baratheon and his father deposed the Targaryen rule? Did the blind old man feel this bitter rage, desperation and sorrow?
Of course he did, he told him so but he was too old to do anything about it and honorbound to the Night's Watch and the Citadel. Jon, however, is still young and skilled with the blade but he spoke his vows and had to honor them. It's too late now, they're all dead already.
A chill went down his spine causing him to whip around to see a cloud of black smoke looming in the corner of the room. Two pale hands stuck out from the cloud, holding a sheathed blade and a white bow. The hands and the weapons sunk back inside of the black fog. Jon, seeing this, he reached out and grabbed one of the wrists of the shadow.
Jon was sucked into the fog where he was met with the sight of the intruder. He was young, perhaps the same age as Jon, his skin as pale as alabaster, his hair like the white of a frozen waterfall and his eyes were what pictured amethysts to look like. Those deep purple eyes looked at him in shock before he looked down at Jon's hand in terror.
"Let go!" He exclaimed as the black fog around them began to churn, "Let go of me or we'll be torn apart!" A bone rattling screech could be heard, echoing through the black clouds, "Viserion." He muttered before he hooked the boy on his shoulder, "The candle is beginning to burn out. The connection is beginning to sever, let go now or we'll be ripped in two!"
"Who are you!?" Jon demanded as the world around them began to shake, "Why did you break into Maester Aemon's room?!"
"That's none of your concern." The man sneered, "This is a family matter."
Jon gave him a dumbfounded look before his grip loosened just enough for the man to escape. The two men began to be pulled away from one another. Jon kept his gaze locked to the man as he was being pulled away into the darkness of the shadows.
"You're Daemon Targaryen, aren't you?" He asked, eerily calm.
Purple eyes looked at Jon with confusion before he glared in suspicion, "Forget what you saw here. It'll be better for you, Night's Watchmen." He declared before they were both pulled back into the darkness.
Daemon fell back onto the hard stone floor. His skin glistened with sweat as he panted for air. Looking down at his hands he found the sword and bow he had been searching for. Quaithe took his arm and helped back on his feet.
"I did it." He panted, laying the weapons on the circular table next to the glass candle.
"You're progressing quickly." The masked woman said, resting her hand on the Weirwood bow, "Projecting yourself through the candle is difficult enough but interacting with the physical world is a feat not many are capable of."
Daemon looked down at his wrist, "Someone saw me, he grabbed me."
Quaithe steadily looked back at him, "Did you recognize this man?" Daemon shook his head, "The only people who should be able to interact with you are the ones you have a connection to."
"But I didn't know him." He replied, thinking back to the man who grabbed him, "I've never met that man before."
"What else did you see?" She asked, gliding across the room towards a pitcher of water.
"I saw the Wall, the stories Viserys told me didn't do it justice." He said as he thought back to the Wall and how it reached into the starlit night, "And I saw that. . .thing they have in the cage."
Those creatures, the wights, will haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life. The body had been pale from the cold and lack of flowing blood in his veins.
He left Meereen two months ago and has been training with Quaithe for a little over a month. She taught him the ways of Old Valyrian magic. That magic allowed him to conjure and manipulate fire into any shape he wanted and coat his sword in flames that never burned out. He even learned to harness the flame within to keep himself warm in the cold of Asshai. It also helped him form an even stronger bond with Viserion. His child became an extension of himself as he was for the dragon. Even when Viserion flies away to hunt he still feels his presence as though he never left.
This isn't all he intends to learn. He's going to learn all manner of warfare from the far east. Travelers from all over the known and unknown world make port in Asshai. The Shadowlands are barren wastelands with rich mines that would put Casterly Rock to shame. The locals of the city trade jewels, gold, and all manner of precious things in exchange for food and clean water. Surely passing travelers would pass along war stories from unknown lands that the people of Westeros never heard off.
He's been practicing with the Glass Candle ever since the day he arrived. Quaithe expressed that the subtle art of using the glass candle will be of utmost importance in the wars to come. They can be used to travers vast distances, reach into the minds of others, send messages, and even instantly deliver items from one corner of the world to another as he just did with the bow and sword.
Daemon looked down at the blade for a moment before picking it up, "Dark Sister, Visenya's sword." He drew the sword and admired its design and the blade of Valyrian Steel.
"Now you have two of the three." The shadowbinder said as she offered him a goblet of water and he took it, "Dark Sister and Windrider."
"One for me and one for Dany." He said before he drank the water, "All's left is Blackfyre, wherever it could be."
"Are you ready for another round?" The masked woman said and the king only nodded, his eyes looking down at the pale flame.
"Where should I go next?"
"Come now, not even a little?" Dany said softly but Rhaegal turned his nose up at the offered lamb.
For days the green dragon has refused any meal that had been offered to it. Ever since Daemon departed with Viserion he had been melancholy and standoffish but now that Drogon's fled he had been absolutely depressed. He refused food, hardly took flight and even snapped at her a few times. Dany sympathizes with him, she missed them all too but she had her duties to distract her. What did Rhaegal have?
Rhaegal's turn in attitude is only the latest of many problems she faces. Yunkai and Astapor went to war with Yunkai victorious thanks to the aid of New Ghis. She sent the Dothraki and one thousand Unsullied to the Kyzai Pass to intercept a sellsword company the masters of Yunkai had hired to pacify the pass to isolate them from their allies in Lhazar. Daario tried to worm his way into her bed but that ended with the tip of her dagger resting on his cock. She sent him, the Second Sons and Hizdahr zo Lorak to subdue Yunkai and to relieve herself of the headaches the two men have often given her.
Now her most current problem has been the Sons of the Harpy. Many solutions were offered to put down the insurgents but the one that didn't involve bloodshed was the Green Grace's idea. The old woman had suggested she marry a noble of Meereenese blood. Dany protested given the fact that she's already married and loyal to her husband. She shrugged it off and pointed out that none of the nobles recognize their marriage as they were wed through Dothraki traditions.
"Your grace?"
The queen turned to face her old knight, "Yes, Ser Barristan?"
"One of our scouting ships has returned." He stated somberly, "They've spotted a fleet of ships from New Ghis entering the bay and others have spotted ships from Talos preparing to join them."
"How long do we have before they arrive?" She asks, her eyes remaining on her dragon.
"They'll need to gather their strength first." Barristan muttered, "A week, maybe two if they're waiting for more allies."
"Prepare the fleet for a siege and send a rider with word that I wish for the Dothraki and Unsullied to return." She orders turning to face the old knight, "Have Ser Jorah and Grey Worm station any able man on the walls and have the people evacuated to the pyramids." She noticed a grim look on Barristan's face, "What is it?"
She hardly reacted when Barristan showed her the pardon that had Robert Baratheon's signature. The pardon was meant for Ser Jorah Mormont of Bear Island. It went into great detail about his services for the Iron Throne and that he may return to Westeros as a recompense. Daenerys felt as though the floor beneath her feet was going to swallow her hole. He had been spying on them from the very beginning.
Daenerys had Barristan inform her council as she gathered her thoughts and composure. She blinked away the tears she felt welling up in her eyes. She rested a hand on Rhaegal's horn and took a deep breath. The dragon nuzzled her hand with a comforting purr.
With one last deep breath she composed herself and made her way inside. She ordered Ser Barristan to send men to detain Jorah. Much to her surprise he informed that the Old Bear had handed himself over willingly. She had them all gathered in the throne where she was finally faced with her betrayer.
Barristan and Robert flanked her sides and Missandei and Willas stood slightly ahead of her. Grey Worm and a small squad of Unsullied formed a line between her and Jorah, should he do anything rash.
"Why did the Usurper pardon you?" She asked, her voice soft but had the coldness of ice within it.
"Khaleesi if we could speak alone - " He tried but the queen immediately said.
"No, we will speak here and now, explain it to me." She ordered.
"Who do you think sent this letter to Meereen?" Jorah asked instead, "Who profits from our divide? This is the work of Tywin Lannister."
"The pardon was signed the year we met." Daenerys replied, "Why were you pardoned? Unless you're saying this document was forged."
She wanted so much for that to be the case, for this to be a trick by the Lannisters. Deep down she knew she couldn't deny even the slightest possibility that this is true.
Jorah stood in silence for a moment, looking up at his queen before he relented, "It wasn't forged."
"Why then?"
"I send letters to Varys." He answered, "The spymaster of King's Landing."
Daenerys knew of him well. Viserys always warned them of the spies the man had all around Essos. That's how Robert Baratheon knew of their movements and how the assassins always seemed to find them no matter where they go.
"What were the contents of these letters?" The queen asked.
"Information."
Daenerys' grip on her interlaced fingers tighted, "What kind of information?"
"When you and Viserys arrived in Pentos, his plan to marry you to Khal Drogo, Daemon's return, when you three married, and when Viserys died." Jorah explained.
"And when I was carrying my son?" The queen asked, an enraged edge to her voice.
"Khaleesi - "
Daenerys snapped, "Don't call me that. Yes or no?"
Jorah hesitated, his eyes seemed to be unable to meet the queen's, "Yes."
Daenerys slowly rose from her bench and descended the steps towards the knight, "That wine merchant tried to poison me because of that information."
Jorah then replied "I stopped you from drinking that wine."
"Because you knew it was poisoned." Daenerys shot back, "You betrayed us from the start."
Jorah suddenly fell to his knees. Daenerys used all of her will to keep her eyes from looking down at him, "I never mean. . . please Khalessi forgive me."
"You sold our secrets to the man that murdered my father and stole my brother's throne and you want me to forgive you?" She held back a sob before Jorah spoke.
"I have loved you."
Those words made Daenerys wish she had her dagger on hand, "Love?" She spat out, "How could you say that to me?" She finally looked down at him, as a person would if they saw a mouse, "You're lucky Daemon isn't here, he would've executed you. But I don't want you here, dead or alive, I want you gone. Go back to King's Landing and collect your pardon if you can."
"Daenerys please." Jorah rose to his feet and attempted to approach her but the Unsullied quickly slammed their spears on the floor in warning.
"You have until dusk to collect your belongings and leave this city." She looked down at him with a cold stare no one knew she was capable of, "If you are found in Meereen by dawn I will have you drowned in the bay. Go now." She ordered before she turned and left.
Rhaegal's enraged roar echoed throughout the city, feeling his mother's pain and sadness. The roars were carried over the land and waters to his siblings. Drogon, soared over the Smoking Sea of Old Valyria let out an enraged roar in reply, causing all manner of curious creatures to shrink away from the dragon. Viserion, perched atop a black mountain in the Shadowlands, unleashed a stream of fire into the dark sky above, cutting through the darkness.
They all felt their mother's pain.
The sudden wave of grief, anger and sadness woke Daemon from his sleep. It felt like a punch to the heart. He sat up and looked over to the window and the smokey sky above. What had happened?
"Dany." He muttered.
