I met a red priest who looked in the fires and said:
Two tall and trunkless legs of stone stand in a cobbler's square
Nearby in the broken ground, half sunken in frozen mire, a shattered visage lies
Whose frown and wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell its scuptor well his passions read which yet survive
stamped on the lifeless things
A hand that mocked and a heart made of stone
And on the pedestal these words stand alone
I am Aegon the Conqueror, king of kings
look upon my work you mighty and despair
But only ruin remains
To surround the decay of that colossal wreck
Boundless and bare
And the long and level snows stretch far away
Daenerys
The skies were clear this night. She wasn't quite sure what to call night and what to call day. The sun did not come out until what should have been mid day, and only stayed up for a few hours before disappearing.
They were camped at the Inn of the Kneeling Man. It was no more than three days march from Riverrun as the scouts reported. The fortress was well supplied with food stores from the Reach and the West in preparation of her campaign against the North, Edmure Tully had informed her.
He had marched ahead to his home, with several hundred of his best troops. She would wait here until the northmen across the frozen Red Fork of the Trident made their move.
From her room at the second floor of the inn, she looked out across the rivers at the northern camp. The fires that went up were too numerous for her to count.
For the moment, Dany could only stare at the vast northern host across the river.
She had decided to wait for their people to come to parley, just as Aegon the Conquerer had nearly three centuries from today.
But the northern lords did not come when the sun rose, and it set without seeing a single soul near the riverbank, yet the fires seemed to grow bigger. The camp seemed to pulse with activity as hundreds of torches were placed near the perimeter. Looking through her Myrish Eye, she could see the sentries standing past the fires. Dany spied a large force suddenly leaving the camp presumably for a patrol.
"They are inviting you to make your move," the Imp was rife with impatience, and so were many of her suppporters she did not doubt. They were eager to camp in Lord Tully's river stronghold, which was well supplied for waiting out the harsh weather.
The dark clouds that she had seen in the distance well beyond the northern camp, were slowly getting closer. Soon a storm would come.
It was the hour of the wolf when Dany lost her patience and decided to make her move. Before leaving, she ordered lord Smallwood to prepare to cross the river if the need arose.
As Dany climbed Rhaegal and lifted off, she could see a few men over the frozen river prodding the ice ahead of them before moving foward.
Rhaegal soared over the camp and made motioned the dragon to make a low pass over the camp before descending to remind the northmen who they were dealing with. The fires that had burned bright earlier had died down with the fall of the sun, but she did not see many tents though, They are not as big as they appear.
Dany landed on a bare patch of ground and leapt off Rhaegal landing on the hard, frozen ground.
The sentries nearby for some reason stood erect and gave no indication that they had just seen a dragon fly over their tent.
Who ignores the dragon? Some hated her others loved her, but in the land of the Andals nobody ignored her.
She approached a sentry stationed at the nearest fire walking down a beaten path, the river to her back.
Dany felt something light, most likely the protruding roots of a tree cut down to a tiny stump give way under her feet...
And saw a flash of movement when the sentry must have spotted her. He leveled something at her and instinctively she ducked in time hear the quiet scream of rusted metal and miss the thrum of a crossbow bolt fly over her head.
Dany drew the Qohorik longsword that once belonged to the dreaded older brother of Victarion Greyjoy. The blade which was easily the finest weapon in her armory had been given as gratitude from maester Samwell of the Night's Watch. Though such men were supposed to forget their families, he had begged for her to forgive his younger brother Dickon who had been taken prisoner after the death of Randyll Tarly who had spearheaded the enemy vanguard at Tumbleton.
Though she had also recovered Blackfyre that day from the false dragon, the ancestral sword of House Targaryen, the bastard blade once carried by Aegon the Conqueror, was to big for her to wield effectively, especially on dragonback.
He was not at all bothered by his father's death she remembered. It was even rumored that lord Tarly hated the citadel so much that he tried to kill his first son to erase the shame brought to the house of Tarly.
Dany understood the mistrust of maesters well enough, but his son was different. He was not one of the Grey Sheep who had poisoned Drogon.
She charged the sentry sword drawn and easily decapitated the sentry with a single blow.
And heard the splinter of wood, she had been played by the Northmen. The sentry it turned out was not a sentry at all, but a board of Sentinel Pine.
The crossbow that had shot at her, was only an old hunting crossbow attached to a pole that lowered with the help of an rusted iron hinge. It's a trap, Dany realized. She sheathed her sword and carefully retraced her path as quickly as possible. Dany ascended Rhaegal to call off anyone that decided to cross the river.
"Dracarys," Dany called out as Rhaegal lifted off. She felt a surge of heat as smoke seemed to escaped from the green scales, and a stream of fire on the empty camp, destroying any other traps in this place.
The night was steadily getting colder, but it didn't matter, she rode fire and death made flesh.
Sansa
She had never seen her mother's birthplace, but now she was resting with her son in the room that was once her mother's. Sansa had arrived here last night with Jon as part of uncle Edmure's party.
A horn from outside blew, and interrupted the morning tranquility. She knew it was morning, because the sky was beginning to lighten up outside the window. The days were much shorter now and she could now see why those who followed the Lord of Light viewed each day as a gift.
She dressed simply, and left her chambers to visit Jon. She felt a strange kind of guilt at the thought of his name. She had wanted sons named Robb, Eddard, and Brandon, but Littlefinger had reminded her that her son would need a name that put aside accusations of illegitimacy. The name Jon could easily have been named after Jon Arryn, but she had been thinking of the solemn boy she called half-brother and even more about how he came to be a bastard. She had later realized that reminders of the Stark name still hung over him until his execution.
She remembered the strange mix of feeling that she had when he fell to his death at the end of a rope. Although she was outwardly calm, she felt a queer sense of freedom, a false one. She also felt a strange sense of loss. This was the man who had destroyed her childhood, and had been her greatest mentor all the same.
The Targaryen queen had offered her a chance to leave for Duskendale a make fresh start with her life. She was proven fertile, and many powerful lords would have begged for her hand in marriage.
Sansa no longer had a claim, that anybody would wed her for. Rickon Stark, had emerged from hiding on the island of Skagos. She had never seen Rickon Stark since leaving Winterfell for King's Landing nearly five years ago, but he had a direwolf at his side that only Starks had.
At least until they are taken from a Stark. It had been a long time since she had seen Arya or her direwolf, but Sansa had no doubt that Daenerys Targaryen was wearing the cloak of the direwolf that she had named Nymeria.
The thought of it still made her tummy flutter nervously. Still, she had made the descision to stay with her dwarf husband, and more importantly her son. It was fitting that Jon was his name because the thought Jon Snow was what convinced her to stay. None of her children would grow up without a mother.
Not a day passed when she did not think of her son's true namesake. We all become the things we despise, Tyrion had once commented. The thought made her more bitter still. He had become his father, the man who ruled the seven kingdoms with blood, iron and gold, and she had become the mother to a bastard.
Sansa gently stroked the hair of her baby boy and remembered why she had made the choices that she did in the last year.
When she was done, she looked out the nursery window and saw the drawbridge down, and an army marching in. It took a second look to realize that many of the banners being carried into the stronghold were northern banners.
Her heart leapt at the sight, and without thinking put on her heavy furs.
At the entrance to the triangular keep of Riverrun, she saw a boy at the head of the party who reminded her so much of Bran the last time she had seen him. At his side was indeed a direwolf. Behind him was a vast host, not just soldiers, but many half starved smallfolk.
The boy looked dazed when he dismounted and saw her.
"Mother?" The lord of Winterfell looked like a lost child, but she did not know what to tell him.
"She is your sister," an older man with a crude doublet of a black ship and an Onion gently spoke to the boy. And the man over there is your uncle Edmure.
Her uncle wore a bittersweet smile at the sight of his nephew.
"You have my thanks Davos Seaworth for bringing my nephew here to safety, the house of Tully owes you a debt of honor."
The expression on Lord Seaworth's face was polite but clearly grave.
Edmure Tully took the hint and ordered a pair of retainers to escort Rickon to his quarters.
"My lord, I know this is asking much of you, but the men need shelter."
Uncle Edmure, took a moment to contemplate the request. "The men you bring here Lord Davos, are not just my nephew's people, but also some of my bannermen, my people."
As her uncle promised, many were put in the feasting hall of the castle. And she saw many familiar faces that had visited Winterfell when she was a child.
The young man who sat next to her was a very handsome man hair the color of honey and beautiful violet eyes they were of the same age give or take two years. He introduced herself as Edrick Dayne, the lord of Starfall and the new sword of the morning.
"It is not often that I meet a child of Ned Stark these days." Her heart almost skipped a beat at his mention of her father almost as much as the solemn tone of his voice. "It seems that when I least expect it, I meet one, I was a milk brother to Jon Snow when I was as little as your own Jon."
"Do you know who his mother was?"
Lord Dayne looked around and showed slights signs of discomfort.
"She was, a common girl by the name of Wylla, or so my aunt Allyria says. The same woman would later be my own wet nurse."
"My lord of Dayne," a thin voice interjected. "It has been so long since I have seen a Sword of the Morning, do you carry it with you?"
The stranger had a cavernous face and a body so thin, that for a moment she mistook him for a starving peasant. A trident was slung across his back. She had seen these kind of people only once. He was a crannogman.
"Who am I speaking too?" Ned Dayne recogized the man's lordly speech but did not know who he was speaking too.
"I am Howland Reed, the lord of Greywater Watch, I was there in the rebellion when your uncle fell."
"So you were the other man who came back with Lord Stark to Starfall?" Ned Dayne asked.
"That's right, we came back with your uncle's body and the sword you now carry. Your Aunt Ashara gave lord Stark, a wet nurse for his … son Jon, before she jumped from Starfall."
Howland Reed covered mouth with a hand, Sansa had long since learned that subtle movements made by speaker said just as much as their words, and his movement told her that Lord Reed was trying to control his expression.
He turned towards Sansa, "and you must be the lady Sansa."
"I am," her response was polite.
"I am told that you have a son of your own named Jon."
"I do."
Howland looked at her thoughtfully, "You named him well, my lady."
Later after the feast, she asked him about the story of Jon.
"The story of how he came into the world, is a truly painfull tale. It is one your boy's namesake may never hear and that is a good thing."
"But how is it good for a child to grow up a bastard with only one parent to be raised with?"
"Because he grew up believing one great lie, one that if he learned the truth would destroy him. Men fought and died for him before he was born yet he spent his life treated as a nobody. If Jon Snow knew the truth, it would tear him apart. He would become bitter and angry towards everything he ever knew."
"And what is the truth?" Sansa had already realized that there was more to the story than what the young man from Starfall knew.
"You shall hear of it soon, when more of his kin are present."
Daenerys
She flew hard to reach Riverrun, the Northern army was somewhere west of that was easy to find, she only had to follow the last she arrived at the fork in the river, where the fortress of river sandstone stood.
Tyrion Lannister led the main force west, but they would arrive within a day. Her cavalry, led by Ser Addam Marbrand, would be less than half a day's ride in this weather, so long as they outpaced the storm to the north that threatened to cross the river.
Dany had been duped into believing that the enemy wanted to cross the river at the Inn of the kneeling man.
That they were desperate to cross the river was obvious. Whispers had been heard of strange creatures of ice taking residence in the ruins of the North.
The North, last she had heard was ruled by Stannis Baratheon, and later Jon Snow, the bastard son of Eddard Stark. The bastard even had the nerve to request that she help his people fight these strange creatures, while she warred in the Reach.
She had many problems, but the pleas of a usurper's son was not one of them. She had a throne to win and a people to free.
Dany reigned in Rhaegal, and descended on the castle landing on the roof of its keep. She leapt off her last dragon, and saw a haggard watchman trying to hold in his fear.
She quickly forgot about his presence, for a knight approached, for only a knight would brave the cold in a coat of heavy mail. His helm which contrasted greatly with the rest of his armor was a well made basinet wrought into the shape of a bull.
The knight gave a casual bow that suggested he had earned his knighthood, before removing his helm. Much to her surprise, the man behind the helm appeared to be at an age with her. His eyes were blue, his hair black and curled and on his chin were the beginnings of a coarse dark beard.
"Your grace," His voice suggested that he had grown up in a poorer section of King's Landing. "I am Gendry of Hollow Hill."
"We didn't think you'd be here so early, how far out is your army?"
"less than a days march." Dany spoke with only a small feeling of overconfidence. "I need an audience with Lord Tully."
She motioned for Rhaegal to stay, and the knight escorted her to the stairwell.
Half an hour later she got the audience she requested, except that it was in the great hall of Riverrun rather than it's lordly solar.
"We did not yet expect your arrival, your grace. You came as I was holding court for the day." His voice was slightly irratated.
Around her were the people of the Riverlands, and some Westermen too. Much to her surprise though was the presence of Northmen.
Their target had been Riverrun after all, and Edmure Tully was clearly sheltering them, sheltering an enemy.
She had already taken the bread and salt offered to her before she saw the Northmen though and remembered its meaning.
The sight of the hagard men of the North, was a surprisingly frightening sight. Their old grey eyes were as hard as flint and seemed determined to remind her of her sins.
"Your grace, I must ask to come to terms with my nephew's people. They have done you no wrong, and for the good of the realm, I beg you to make your peace with them, before Lord Lannister's host returns."
Dany pondered that statement, ever since she was a child, she had held a strong dislike of the house of Stark, one that still endured. When the dragons returned every house in the either bent the knee or was reduced to ash. Even fake dragons got support in the war.
But the northerners had stubbornly clung to Baratheon rule through it all.
"You have the chance to bend the knee to me now. I only require that your armies return to your homes, and that all noble houses offer their heirs to me as hostages."
Dany could feel the mood in the halls grow cold, at the sound of her demands.
"I will also take your lord of Winterfell, whoever he may be as a hostage for the support of false usurpers, and the bastard of Eddard Stark as well for lies you have spoken about my brother Rhaegar."
An eerie silence pregnant with hostility prevaded the halls, until a single man walked towards her.
He was a thin man with unremarkable features, but there was something about this man that had every eye on him.
"Are you as mad as Rhaegar, are you as mad as your own father." His voice though scornful was quiet and one that those in the hall stayed quiet to hear. "Do you not know what the Starks suffered at the blood of the Dragon. And for what purpose, the blind obsession of a madman to produce another heir on a woman who was not his."
He spit on the sandstone floor. "Even during your wars you ignored, you ignored our pleas to help because of your foolish hatred of the Starks."
Dany made her voice heard, "I refused to deal with the bastard son of usurper's dog. If he is here I will have him delivered in chains for this defiance."
Suddenly the hall shook with laughter at the remark. "Find him if you can!" A young girl sporting a Merman on her courtly clothes called out. "He's not here."
They would regret laughing at the dragon, Dany decided.
"I should not be surprised at how you speak of Jon Snow, Even in Greywater Watch, I have heard about how you treat your blood relations."
" The mummer's dragon was no real dragon, even with a young dragon! No more than this Jon Snow you speak of!" Dany responded with the fury a rudely awoken dragon.
"That is where you ere, you fool. I was there when he was born.
The speaker in the tattered coat turned around slowly and raised his voice ever so slightly.
"Myself and six others fought three knights of the Kingsguard, to rescue Lyanna Stark. Only myself and Lord Stark survived that day, but we only found her dying of a birthing fever."
The lord of Greywater watch, turned back to face her.
"The boy whose desperately needed help you refused to give, was your own nephew!"
She heard a series of muffled gasps in the hall at this announcement. Personally Dany was did yet know how to respond to the news.
"He was the prized child of Rhaegar that so many died for not even knowing of his existence. How many more must die before you overcome your hatred?"
She was speechless, and had she not heard the distant shriek of a dragon she would have been at a loss for words.
Edmure Tully who sat at the head of the dais had tried his best to keep his expressions neutral. "You grace, is your dragon in need of food?"
A weak reply left her mouth as a sudden chill passed her by, "That was not my dragon."
Note: Man, that chapter was a monster to write, so much insanity. I just want to say that i'm pleasantly surprised at the support i've already gotten for this story. considering that it only has five chapters so far. Only one more before I end act one.
the poem at the beginning is a tribute to the poem Ozymandias (the Percy Shelly Version, I have planned a separate tribute for the Horace Smith version in "The Game Ends")