Author's Note: A look at Dragonstone for you guys. Some of you have wondered about Farring's actions in regards to the last chapter, so you'll get an answer to that just now. Then it's off to get Dany's first POV section, which will be her only POV for the time being (if she reappears it'll be much later on in the story). Then back to Riverrun for a different character's POV. Enjoy.
Quick Update: A reader spotted an error in this chapter so I have quickly edited the paragraph were said error was. It was something that I had somehow overlooked from the previous chapter in regards to when Maege Mormont last saw Jon Snow, so I hope that I've cleared up any confusion. Thanks guys, and enjoy.
Chapter 6
Here We Stand
Stannis
He was angry. He had been angry for quite some time. Ever since he had broken his fast this morning he had been angry. He wanted to go straight to King's Landing and tear that incest-born bastard from the Iron Throne; he wanted to kill the woman who has passed the bastard off as his brother's son for the years that he has drawn breath; he wanted to kill the corrupt commander of the Goldcloaks and the fools on the small council; but right now he wanted to throw his foolish wife into the Blackwater Bay and watch her drown for her stupidity. Stannis was stood in the Chamber of the Painted Table at the top of the Stone Drum, the central keep of Dragonstone, where Aegon the Conqueror had planned his conquest of Westeros three-hundred years ago. He was stood looking down at the table, grinding his teeth, as his most trusted man entered the chamber. Looking up at him Stannis saw the older man approach; Ser Davos Seaworth, also called the Onion Knight, had just returned from visiting his wife and youngest sons in Cape Wrath.
"You asked to see me your grace?" he asked. Stannis nodded his head and gestured for him to sit down. Once Davos was sat on a chair across from him Stannis let out a deep breath.
"Of all the people on this island you are probably the only one who does not go behind my back," he told him. Davos just sat patiently and waited for him to continue. "About ten days ago word reached me about the defeat of Tywin Lannister. Defeated by Robb Stark, the heir of Ned Stark of Winterfell." He looked back at Davos who was wide eyed.
"How did he manage that?" he asked.
"By listening to his lords I reckon," Stannis spoke. "He's surrounded by men who love his father, who fought for him during both my brother's war and the Greyjoys attempt at rebellion. He would've listened to them before making any moves. It was from him that I learned of this battle." Stannis leaned over the table and picked up a letter that had been delivered to him ten days ago. "This letter explains that Robb Stark has taken Tywin Lannister prisoner along with his son Tyrion and the boys Willem and Martyn, Tywin's nephews by his brother Ser Kevan." Stannis looked at the letter in his hands before looking back at Davos. "He also writes about wanting me to travel to Riverrun and discuss bringing Joffrey and his mother down." Davos blinked at that.
"Then, begging your pardons your grace, but why are we still here?" he asked. "This is a chance to take your brother's throne with little to no bloodshed. With her father prisoner Cersei Lannister would not do anything to endanger him." Stannis put the letter in his hands down and picked up another one. Davos looked at him with a worried expression.
"This letter comes from Cersei's abomination," he said slowly, "commanding me to send the ships to King's Landing and to aid in recapturing Ned Stark and his daughters who have escaped from under his nose." Stannis snorted, still wondering how the bastard and his mother managed to let that happen. Davos had a smile on his face.
"That is good news as well," he said. Stannis ground his teeth, and crumpled the letter in his hands before hurling it into the nearby hearth.
"And that red woman had seen in her flames that Ned Stark had escaped and what does my wife do when that letter confirms Mellisandre's vision?" he asked staring at Davos, his voice rising. "She sends Godry Farring, GODRY FARRING, to track down Ned Stark and capture, CAPTURE, him and his daughters." Stannis began pacing up the length of the table. "My own wife sends a man who has a habit of goading people into fighting him, to capture a man whose son had just succeeded in bringing about Tywin Lannister's downfall. And if that fool of a knight should actually manage to find Ned Stark and his daughters, it would put a strain on any alliance that I could make with Robb Stark, all because my wife wanted to make sure, and I quote, that the heathen Northman is quickly brought to heel before he can think of supporting Renly." Stannis turned to face Davos then. "Tell me Ser Davos, why would a man like Ned Stark, who is known for his sense of honour, choose to support my younger fool of a brother instead of me when his own honour demands him to support the next in line to the throne, which under the laws of gods and men happens to be me, and not Renly?" Davos cleared his throat then before standing up and walking closer to him.
"He wouldn't support Renly," he said certainly. "As you said, his own honour tells him to support you. And if Ser Godry should manage to catch him you can just explain that he acted without your knowledge or consent." Stannis laughed bitterly at that.
"Without my knowledge or consent Ser Davos?" he repeated. "Why would anyone support a king who doesn't know what his own bannermen are doing, especially if those bannermen act without permission?"
"Even kings need to learn from time to time your grace," Davos answered simply. Stannis ground his teeth in answer to that statement.
"Ser Godry rides with my personal banner Davos," he said. "You've seen it as you came in today I trust?" Davos nodded; he may not be able to read his letters without help, but he knew sigils at least.
"The crowned stag of Baratheon within a fiery heart," he said. "I admit it looks regal. Fearsome even." The former smuggler stepped closer to him. "And it shows your support of her faith." Stannis turned from Davos and walked back to the table.
"We've been over this Davos," he said warningly.
"Aye, we have your grace," he answered, his tone of voice saying that he heard his warning and did not care for it. "You agreed that we would not fight for her religion. The people throughout the land will not take to the red woman's faith if you try to make them convert." Stannis turned to face Davos with a glare. "They will not support you in this. All it will do is make this war a lot worse than it already is."
"My brother has taken command of the forces of the Reach and the Stormlands," Stannis ground out. "He has named himself king, usurping what is rightfully mine by the laws of this land. Robert had given Storm's End to Renly to spite me, and he has always favoured Renly over me, and now Renly has it in his head that he can usurp me without consequence." Stannis looked back to the hearth where he threw the letter. He closed his eyes and thought back to a few days ago, when Mellisandre and Selyse managed to convince him to burn the sept, along with the septon and those foolish enough to try and defend it. Ever since his parents died when their ship was broken apart during a storm on Shipbreaker Bay he has not said a word of any kind to the Seven; he has never prayed to them, so why should he keep the sept? And Mellisandre had promised that R'hllor would aid him in his battle for the Iron Throne. "And now Selyse has sent a man who has fully given himself to the Lord of Light to track down Ned Stark. A man who will insult and goad the Lord of Winterfell into fighting him. Something tells me that he will fail in that task if he hasn't already." Stannis sighed loudly as he sat down on a chair. "That will cost me an ally that I could've used. So I'll need all the help I can get." Davos approached him slowly.
"Your grace, I must protest against embracing the use of the red woman's magic," he said.
"Who built this table Ser Davos?" Stannis asked as he put a hand on the table, interrupting him. Davos looked at him blankly for a moment before he answered.
"Aegon Targaryen," he replied in a confused tone.
"And what did he make this table for again?" Stannis asked.
"To plan his conquest of Westeros," Davos answered.
"And what did Aegon Targaryen have to conquer with?" Davos looked at him with his eyes narrowed slightly.
"Three dragons," he answered slowly.
"Beasts that are magical by their very nature," Stannis said as he leaned closer in his seat. "Aegon Targaryen had only a few thousand men to start with, so he used his dragons to subdue those who refused to bend to him. If Mellisandre's magic helps me to take the Iron Throne then who am I to turn her away?" Davos could not answer him, and Stannis did something that was rare for him to do; he smiled. "I'll take all of the help that I can get, no matter the source." Stannis stood up from the seat and walked over to the other side of the chamber to look out over the Blackwater Bay. "That'll be all Ser Davos," he said when he heard Davos begin to speak again. After a few moments he heard the sound of footsteps behind him until they became too quiet to hear.
He stood there for some time, thinking about how he was going to take what was his. With his younger brother calling himself a king Stannis had a hard enough task ahead of him, and if Farring were to catch up with Ned Stark then it would not be a pleasant situation. He liked Farring as a warrior, but not as a negotiator. Stannis was certain that Selyse had just turned the Starks against them. Damn my wife, he thought. Must I be cursed with fools and imbeciles who work behind my back? No more, I'll not accept it. As he stood and thought over what he could do he heard the sound of footsteps again, only these were softer. Stannis knew who it was before he turned to face her.
"Do you wish to give me further advice?" Stannis growled.
"I seek only to help you gain what is rightfully your my king," came the sonorous voice of Mellisandre. "The Onion Knight tried to give you advice I noticed." Stannis turned to face her and nodded his head.
"I am still of the belief that Ser Godry will not succeed," he said as calmly as possible. "It was a mistake for Selyse to send him, and more than a mistake to go behind my back."
"I suggested to Queen Selyse to send one of the more level headed knights to find Lord Stark and bring him to you," she said. Stannis looked at her with narrowed eyes. "I had no idea that she would send that brute to find him, or I would not have suggested it in the first place." Stannis huffed in annoyance.
"You knew and never spoke a word?" he asked bitterly. "It seems that I can't trust you either if you will not speak with me first." Mellisandre just walked closer to him, smiling that seductive smile of hers.
"You don't need Lord Stark to take the Iron Throne," she said as she stopped right in front of him. She placed a hand on his shoulder and brushed her fingers down his doublet. "I have seen what would happen if you turned to him for aid. The fires showed me a great grey wolf guiding a young stag whose antlers had not yet grown fully, guiding him through the snow. And then they approached an older stag, much larger than the younger, and they cornered a lioness and her cubs. The older stag killed the lioness and the first of the cubs, but that cub wounded the stag. As the stag killed the cub, the grey wolf attacked and killed the older stag, and then left the younger stag to prance through the woods and the fields." Stannis found himself shuddering at her words. The stag was the sigil of House Baratheon, and the older stag was him, which meant that the younger stag must have been Renly. The Lannisters wore a lion as their sigil, so the lioness was Cersei and the cubs her bastards by her twin brother. The great grey wolf could only be the Starks, as they bore a grey direwolf upon their white banners. Stannis looked at Mellisandre, who had leaned closer to him, her full breasts in his line of sight. She brought her free hand to her silk dress and curled her fingers around the edge of the dress. "You must go to Storm's End my king," she said in a whisper as her other hand travelled down to his breeches. "Go to Storm's End and lure Renly out. He will come, and he will die there. I have seen it. And when he dies his men will flock to you, and they will fight for their true king." Stannis felt her hand unlacing his breeches while he watched her other hand pull her dress away to reveal her breasts. He wanted to stop her from doing... whatever she was doing, but he felt compelled to let her do what she was doing. He closed his eyes though, and he breathed out slowly to calm himself.
"I swore a vow," he told her as he heard the soft swishing sound of her dress falling from her frame.
"To false gods that you have not believed in for many years my king," she said softly as she pressed her body against his. "You must give yourself to me, and then you will have given yourself to the Lord of Light fully. And when you go to Storm's End, he will let his will be done." Stannis felt her lips pressing against his hollow cheek then, and before he knew what he was doing he had pulled his breeches down just enough and pushed Mellisandre against the painted table. Soon he was in her and thrusting further into her. He was not a man with a passion for women like Robert was, but he knew what to do with women at least. Mellisandre moaned as he pushed himself into her, and while he wished she would not make that sound he felt himself harden as he pushed into her with greater fervour than he had ever had with Selyse.
Daenerys
Tears ran down her face as she sat down on the ground beneath, her body trembling after being on the run for the last two days. This isn't happening, this isn't happening, she kept repeating in her head. She closed her eyes and tried to will her tears to stop. This isn't happening. Her companions had gathered around her, talking to her in Dothraki, worried for her. This isn't happening, Daenerys thought to herself. But it was happening.
After the attempt on her life by the wine merchant, her husband Khal Drogo led his khalasar to pillage the towns of the Lhazareen, a people who make their living as shepherds. Ser Jorah had told her that the Dothraki were attacking the Lhazareen to take them captive as they make good slaves, and selling them as slaves would get them the gold that they need to buy ships to cross the Narrow Sea. The khalasar had pillaged an entire town and were going to attack another when they were attacked by a company of sellswords. The sellswords did not look like they were from Essos, but their accents were strangely familiar to her. She watched as a group of the sellswords fell upon a dozen Dothraki horsemen who had only just got their arakhs drawn, but they were brutally cut down with little effort. It was unreal to her; she had been told of the strength of the Dothraki, and she believed that they would help her retake her father's throne for her son. Now that hope lay in tatters.
The sellswords slaughtered their way through the khalasar, hacking men down with practised ease. Daenerys was frightened by these men, and the few women that she noticed among their numbers. She saw one warrior woman wielding a two-headed axe, slashing at Dothraki with seemingly wild abandon. Daenerys rode with her companions and tried to find her husband. She found him, but it was too late. Drogo was fighting a powerfully built man who held perhaps the largest sword she had ever seen in her life. Drogo swung his arakh at the man, but he was wearing full plate armour; arakhs were not much good against full plate. Drogo's blade struck the side of the sellsword's armour, but the man slammed his armoured arm down to trap his blade, and then he thrust his sword into Drogo's belly. Everything after that was a blur to Daenerys.
Daenerys cried quietly as her companions tried to coax her up to her feet. Irri and Jhiqui were crouching down next to her, one on either side, while Doreah was sat in front of her. The three of them were talking to her, but Daenerys did not hear them. She noticed that Rakharo and Aggo were among her companions, but Jhogo was no longer with them. There were some other Dothraki, but not many. As she sat there Jorah approached her and bent down beside her, gently ushering the other women away.
"Khaleesi," he said softly. Daenerys looked up at him, her eyes red from crying. "I'm sorry." She nodded her head and began to stand up. Jorah helped her to her feet, with Irri and Jhiqui helping as well. Once back on her feet Daenerys put her hands on her swollen belly.
"He'll never know his father," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "He is the last hope of my House." She sniffled loudly, wiping her eyes and looking around at the people who were with her. As she looked at everyone a thought came to her mind. "Where are my eggs?" she asked as she looked back to Jorah. "Where are they?" She looked to her handmaidens, who were looking away from her.
"During our escape," Jorah began, "a group of the sellswords had caught up with us. They nearly caught you, but only managed to take the saddle bag that held your eggs." Daenerys breathed in sharply at that news, her eyes stinging. "Jhogo went back for them, but he was killed by the sellswords. I only realised they had your eggs when I saw one of the sellswords pull one of the eggs out. By that time we were too far away and there were more of them." Daenerys felt her knees buckle beneath her and swayed slightly on her feet. Jorah and Rakharo caught her before she could fall though.
"I need them back," she said. "We have to get them back." No one moved to do anything. Daenerys glared at the men. "They were a gift to me! They are mine, not some sellsword's! I WANT THEM BACK!" Her handmaidens jumped with fright at her tone while Jorah sighed.
"Khaleesi, they are gone," he said, his voice full of sorrow. "The sellswords have them and they will be leaving the area soon if they haven't already." Daenerys leaned against her horse, closing her eyes as the tears fells again.
"Who are they?" she asked. "Who are these men who killed my husband?" She looked up at Jorah, who looked very uncomfortable then. "Ser Jorah?" she urged after a few seconds passed without an answer. Jorah gulped loudly before he looked at her, and then he hung his head in defeat.
"The Company of the Rose," he said. "A company of sellswords descended from exiles."
"Exiles from where?" she asked the man. Jorah stepped closer to her and looked into her eyes.
"The North," he said, and Daenerys felt a clenching feeling in her throat then; the North had been one of the kingdoms to rebel against her father so many years ago. She looked at the Northern knight and took a deep shuddering breath.
"Why were they exiled?" she asked him, and he gave a humourless laugh.
"Theirs is a voluntary exile," he explained. "What I can tell you about them is that they are descended from those who left the North in disgust after Torrhen Stark bent the knee to your ancestor, Aegon the Conqueror. These men and women had been loyal to the Starks when they ruled as Kings in the North, but after the King Who Knelt as Torrhen Stark came to be called had bent his knee these Northmen felt betrayed, and so they left the North and travelled east to Essos, where they have lived as sellswords ever since." Daenerys looked away from Jorah for a moment before turning back to face him.
"They left their homes because they were unhappy that Torrhen Stark gave up his crown?" Jorah nodded. Daenerys snorted as she ran her hands over her belly. "Why do they call themselves the Company of the Rose?"
"Upon their banners they bear a blue winter rose," Jorah answered. "It is a form of rose that can only grow in cold climates, such as in the North. The glass gardens of Winterfell always have blue winter roses all year round. I do not know if this is true or not, but it is said that the exiles were led by Torrhen's second son, the former Prince Edrik Stark, who could not look at his father after he bent the knee. He left, but not before taking a cloth which had a winter rose sewn upon it by his sister. The Company of the Rose has the image of a blue winter rose upon their banners and their clothes so that they have a reminder of where they come from." Daenerys looked away from Jorah after he finished speaking and walked down the road a short distance. She felt cold all of a sudden, and rubbed her arms subconsciously to try and warm them up.
"Khaleesi?" Irri spoke then, her voice full of worry. Daenerys looked back at the Dothraki girl and sighed.
"We are not safe here Irri," she told her in Dothraki. "We need to leave, find somewhere we can be safe." Irri nodded her head as Daenerys stepped closer to her. As she did they heard a faint sound in the distance. She looked back in the direction where they came from and saw in the distance a group of riders far back.
"Khaleesi, we must hide," Jorah said.
"Jorah the Andal?" Rakharo said in broken common tongue. "There is place nearby. We can hide for a time if we quick."
Daenerys and the others followed Rakharo as he led them across the road and eventually into the hills to the north of them. They used well travelled paths before coming upon a stream, where Rakharo led them up to the stream's source. Daenerys found herself looking upon a cave, and was grateful for Rakharo's quick thinking.
"Thank you Rakharo," she said to him as Jorah led her directly into the cave. The small group entered the cave which was thankfully large enough for all of them to fit into comfortably. "Everyone, we must keep quiet while we are in here, or the sellswords will kill us all," she told them.
"We should fight them, not hide like lamb men," one of the men told her. Daenerys was about to speak when Jorah stepped in.
"Those sellswords outnumber us," he told them. "We fight them we will die for nothing." The Dothraki who spoke seemed offended by Jorah's words, but otherwise he kept quiet. They all huddled at the back of the cave except for Jorah and Rakharo, who were kneeling behind rocks at the mouth of the cave to hide themselves as they kept watch outside. It was quiet for half an hour when the sound of horses galloping outside drew Daenerys's attention. The galloping continued for ten minutes or so, until it began to abate. Daenerys walked over to the mouth of the cave and stood beside Jorah.
"Are there many?" she asked softly.
"Khaleesi, you should be back there with the others," he told her. Daenerys gave him a sharp look.
"Are there many?" she asked him again. Jorah sighed before nodding his head.
"About four dozen, just over there," he replied, pointing to where the stream forked off into two different streams about fifty feet away. The sellswords were quite close, and it unnerved Daenerys. The sellswords were all on horseback, and were talking quite loudly.
"I tell you, there's no sign of the Horse Lords," one man barked. "They're long gone."
"Then who were those riders we saw a while ago Harald?" the voice of a woman asked. Daenerys looked at the sellswords that were closest to the cave's mouth; they were maybe twenty feet away from where Daenerys stood, and quite big. The man, Harald, wore mail of some kind and leather armour, and had a longsword on his hip and a quiver of arrows and a longbow as well. The woman however was bigger, with short dark hair coming down to her shoulders and a pair of war axes, one on each hip, as well as a two-headed axe secured on her back. Daenerys realised that this was the same woman that she saw when the sellswords attacked them.
"Travellers who had stopped to rest and then rode hard, probably thinking we were Dothraki," Harald answered. "What does it matter Bera? They're gone." The woman, Bera, spat in response before looking at Harald.
"You saw that man who was with the Dothraki shits, didn't you?" she asked, her voice laced with fury.
"Aye, I saw him," Harald answered. Daenerys leaned closer as the two of them began to ride back to the others.
"Then you know I will not suffer that living insult to the honour of the North," Bera said. Daenerys glanced at Jorah to see him go paler than she had ever seen him before. "The fucker sold poachers to slavers. Fucking slavers!" Daenerys flinched at the woman's tone, and then realised who Bera was talking about.
"Ser Jorah?" she asked the man beside her. "Are they talking about you?" Jorah looked back at her, and the look in his eyes made her shiver.
"Yes Khaleesi," he answered. "They are talking about me." Daenerys remembered talking with Jorah months ago and hearing how he had sold men he caught poaching on his lands instead of taking them to the Wall as he should have done. It was because of that action that he fled Westeros, after receiving word that Lord Stark was coming to execute him.
"I don't care if he is distant kin Harald!" Bera's voice carried back to the cave, startling Daenerys. "He may have the name Mormont, but he's a fucking disgrace to my ancestors! He's a disgrace to all who are descended from the First Men!"
"I understand Bera," Harald spoke, just loud enough for Daenerys to hear. "But he is kin, and old gods or new no man is so accursed as the kinslayer." Bera cackled loudly at her friend's words.
"It isn't kinslaying considering that our shared ancestor goes back three-hundred years ago Harald!" Bera boomed, her voice an angry roar. "And I'll kill that piece of shit myself should I come across him!" The two sellswords rode off so that they were too far for Daenerys to hear them.
"Khaleesi," Jorah spoke up then, almost startling her. "I have to go." Daenerys looked at him, her eyes wide. "They are looking for me. They will not stop until they have my head. I must..."
"No Ser Jorah," Daenerys said, her voice wavering. "I need you here. You're one of the best swordsmen. If you go..."
"HO THERE!" a voice bellowed out, and for a moment Daenerys thought that they had been found. It was not until they looked that they realised that they were still safe for now; another band of sellswords had joined the others. "Why are you lot milling about?" Daenerys had to strain her ears to listen to what was being said.
"Hunting a man who is an insult to my House!" Bera shouted back. Daenerys looked at the man at the head of the new group; he was bald, with a well built figure, and a massive greatsword on his back. He wore full plate armour and had a scowl on his face. "What's it to you Hornwood?"
"Careful Mormont!" Hornwood yelled back. "You're as stupid as the animal that is on your family's banners." Some of the men laughed, while Bera was angered by the remark Daenerys noticed.
"No need for petty insults Ronnel," Harald said with a hand on Bera's arm. "Why are you disturbing Bera's hunt?" Daenerys watched on as Ronnel Hornwood urged his horse closer.
"All hunts are called off," he stated.
"WHAT!?" Bera roared, her face full of frustration.
"This comes from the Lady Marshal herself," Hornwood cut in before Bera could continue. "Firstly, we can tell you that our current contract is at an end. The Khal that Osric Umber killed was indeed Khal Drogo." The gathered sellswords cheered, apart from Bera who Daenerys noticed was still glaring at Hornwood. Daenerys herself felt her chest tightening at the mention of her husband's death.
"Well that's very good and all," Bera began, "but what can be more important than hunting down an honour-less cretin who is a traitor to all who claim descent from the First Men?" Hornwood looked at her, and Daenerys could have sworn that she saw him smile wickedly.
"News from the North," he stated simply, and Daenerys watched as the sellswords all looked at him more intently than before, even Bera. "A messenger arrived a couple of hours ago. It seems that the North has marched off to war once again, only this time the Heir to Winterfell marches to free his father the Lord of Winterfell from captivity." Daenerys heard some mumbling coming from the sellswords then.
"Hang on Ronnel, why has this happened?" someone yelled. "I thought the current Lord Stark was a friend of this Stag King?"
"It seems that the Stag King is dead," Hornwood answered. Daenerys's eyes widened at that revelation. The Usurper is dead? So there is some justice in this world after all, she thought to herself with a slight smile. "Killed during a hunt, and the Stag King's son doesn't seem to want to continue with the friendship between Houses Stark and Baratheon. So war is coming." One of the other sellsword's laughed darkly.
"By the time we get to Braavos to collect our reward for Drogo the war might well be over and done with," the sellsword said.
"Aye Cerwyn," Hornwood said. "But regardless, the Targaryens are no more." Those words made Daenerys angry; she wanted to step out and tell those sellswords otherwise, she wanted them to die in agony for their arrogance, but she knew that it was pointless to even try. There were over fifty sellswords out there, and Daenerys's group numbered less than twenty. "With them gone it may well be time to return home." The sellswords all started to murmur amongst each other.
"But our oath Hornwood," Bera said, her voice not as loud and furious as before. "Our ancestors vowed to never return to Westeros until the main branch of House Stark no longer bows to the Iron Throne. Only then does our exile end."
"True Bera," Hornwood said as he urged his horse closer to her. "But Marshal Erika has decided that it is time to be ready to sail across the Narrow Sea." Hornwood turned his horse around and rode off to the right. "We return to our camp, and once we are all gathered we ride west! To Braavos, and then hopefully to our ancestral homeland!"
The sellswords rode on, following Hornwood as he led the group to wherever they were camped. Daenerys watched them as they disappeared from view, becoming small dots on the landscape. A few minutes after the last sellsword was beyond her line of sight she let out a deep breath that she had not realised that she was holding. Daenerys took a step back and looked over her shoulder at the others. They were still huddled at the back of the cave, mostly quiet apart from one or two of the women who were weeping.
"They have gone," Daenerys told them. "We shall sleep here tonight, and leave tomorrow." One of the men grunted in anger.
"Who put you in charge woman?" he snapped. Daenerys looked sharply at the man, who she noticed had put his hand on the hilt of his arakh. "Khal Drogo is dead, and you are nothing," he said with a sneer, stepping closer to her. Daenerys stepped back, her heart thumping wildly. "You are just another widowed Khaleesi, and your babe is not born yet." The Dothraki drew his arakh and pointed it tip first at her. Daenerys looked back to the mouth of the cave to find Jorah approaching with his longsword drawn, a scowl on his face.
"That's enough Horse Lord," he said, his Dothraki sounding off in his Northern accent. "Put your weapon away, or be ready to die." Daenerys stepped back from the two men, looking at Rakharo who had stepped closer ready to offer help to Jorah. The Dothraki spat in Jorah's direction.
"You did not fight those sellswords," the man replied venomously. "You may as well be one of them. You look similar to them."
"And here I stand. Now put your weapon away," Jorah said again. "Last chance." The Dothraki responded by swinging his arakh at Jorah, who raised his sword and blocked the blow. Daenerys watched as the two men fought each other, with everyone else staying out of the way. Jorah thrust at the man who stepped to the side and swung his arakh above his head and down towards Jorah's armoured back; the blade glanced off of Jorah, who grunted in pain before slashing his sword at his foe, who parried the strike away and punched out at Jorah, striking him on the jaw. From the back of the cave another two Dothraki men ran in to take part in the fight with their arakhs in hand. One went straight for Jorah, swinging wildly at him in a bid to take his head off. The other ran for Daenerys.
"Ser Jorah!" she called out as the man approached with his arakh raised over his shoulder. As he swung another blade intercepted the strike, and Daenerys saw that it was Rakharo who had come to her aid. Rakharo fought the man, pushing him back and slashing at him. Daenerys looked back at Jorah to find him being aided by Aggo who was fighting the second man while Jorah fought the first. As they fought Daenerys felt pain in her belly; it was a slight discomfort that soon became agony. She looked down at the ground and saw that the dirt floor of the cave right beneath her was damp, and she felt a wetness on her thighs. No, she thought. Not now. It's too early, it must be.
Daenerys collapsed to the floor as she realised that she was in labour. Her baby was coming, and right now no one could help her. She looked up to see that the six men were still fighting each other, all determined to slay one another. The women were at the back of the cave still, all too frightened by the fighting in front of them. Each time one of the men struck their opponent's weapon Daenerys felt a twinge of pain in her belly. Jorah parried a blow aimed at his thigh, and pain shot out through her belly. Aggo slashed at his opponent's neck only for the man to block with his arakh, and pain shot out through her belly. Rakharo pushed his blade against his opponent's as they locked blades in a struggle to overcome the other, and pain shot out through her belly.
"Irri, Jhiqui!" Daenerys called out, hoping her handmaidens would hear over the sound of steel clashing steel. "Help me! Please!" They did not hear her though. Jorah did, and he renewed his attacks, striking out with more strength and forcing his foe back against the wall of the cave. The Dothraki man was pushed up against the wall and he nearly fell over, and Jorah struck out, slicing the man's right arm off at the elbow before slashing at his neck, severing his head quickly before he could scream out in pain. Jorah rushed over to her then, and knelt down beside her.
"Khaleesi?" he asked, his voice one of worry.
"I need-" a sharp pain interrupted Daenerys as she spoke, and she wailed as it felt like her body was being torn apart. She vaguely heard Jorah shout out to her handmaidens before he stood up. A moment later Irri, Jhiqui and Doreah were all gathering around her, trying to comfort her. Daenerys looked up to where Jorah was, and saw him walking over to Aggo and his opponent. Jorah swung his sword at him, distracting him long enough for Aggo to slam his arakh into his side, carving him nearly in half as the strike sent blood spraying over the ground. A shout of agony drew Daenerys's attention and she turned to look to her left to see Rakharo kicking his foe to the ground, the man's chest slashed open from bottom of ribcage to collarbone.
"Khaleesi?" Irri said worriedly as Daenerys shouted out in pain as a contraction hit her. Oh gods no, please let my child live, please don't take my son from me. Another contraction hit her and Daenerys was doubled over, her handmaidens helping her to lay down. I've lost my sun-and-stars, don't take my son from me too, she begged silently, hoping the gods would spare her from more misery.
"We need a midwife, now!" Daenerys heard Jorah snap, even though it sounded like he was so far away.
"Just hold on Khaleesi," Doreah said soothingly. "Everything will be fine." Daenerys hoped that she was right, but a small part of her did wonder if this was to be her end.
Please spare my son...
Dacey
Dacey sighed as she lay on the bed in the room given to her by the steward at Riverrun. She has had a long day out in the courtyard with some of her men, and it was frustrating not being able to do much with her wounded shoulder. The Maester had been insistent when he told her to take it easy for a couple of weeks to allow the wound to heal properly, but she really did not understand why; Dacey has taken worse injuries in the past, and she did not take it easy then, so why should she start now? Bloody soft hearted Southrons, she thought with a snigger. However much Dacey wanted to train properly with her men, Robb had backed the Maester up and told her to rest the shoulder for at least a week before training again.
"You're no good to us if you can't swing your mace without screeching in pain Dacey," he had told her, much to the amusement of his friend Theon. As much as she liked Robb she could barely stand his friend; the Greyjoy heir was always speaking to her as if she were some tavern wench or brothel slut desperate for a man's member being shoved between her thighs. Dacey agreed to step back from training for a week, but no more than that. She was bored to tears as a result of not being able to train with her men. To Dacey there was nothing better than practising her combat skills. And a decent fuck too, she thought as she let her mind wander off to a few years ago.
Back when her cousin Jorah was still the Lord of Bear Island, Dacey had given her virtue to a strong looking fellow who had travelled on a ship that had sailed up from Oldtown in the Reach. The man was from one of the Free Cities and was a guard under the employ of the merchant who owned the ship. At the time Dacey had been wanting to travel as she was still just the firstborn daughter of the aunt of the Lord of Bear Island. The man who was simply called Boar, who stood six foot tall (the same height as Dacey) and had broad shoulders and a muscular build, had taken an interest in her on the second day that the merchant was at Bear Island. The ship stayed there for ten days, and for most of those ten days Dacey had trained alongside this man. He was nice, polite, but did not hold back just because she was a woman. Dacey liked him a lot, and on the eighth day that the merchant was there Dacey and Boar rode through the woods, were they stumbled across four wildlings. That was the first time that Dacey had ever killed someone, and she killed three of the wildlings while Boar had only killed one, but had been wounded in return.
After the skirmish she led him to a nearby cave where she dressed the cut on his arm, and the two of them spoke about their childhoods. Before she even realised what she was doing Dacey had kissed Boar, and then he pinned her to the floor of the cave and peppered her face and lips with soft kisses. That had surprised her, given how hard he fought even while only sparring. A minute later they were both frantically taking their clothes off and then Boar was deep inside her, rocking his hips hard into her, driving her wild with lust. It was painful to start with, but Dacey had enjoyed it. An hour later they were pulling their clothes back on before riding back to the keep, where they explained that they had killed wildlings and decided to patrol the woods just in case there were anymore of them. After that Dacey slept peacefully, and dreamed of Boar that night. The next morning she walked over to him in the courtyard of Mormont Keep where he was standing about doing nothing, and they snuck off for the rest of the day, where they rode around the island that was her home and made fierce love whenever they stopped. That was the ninth day.
The tenth and last day was the day that her life changed. The merchant was not meant to leave for another three days, but as Dacey woke up she looked up to see her mother at the door. Maege Mormont had told her to get dressed into her mail and leather and get her mace. Ten minutes later she and her mother were mounting their horses, and Maege told her that her cousin was wanted by Lord Stark for selling men into slavery. Dacey was shocked by this, and did not believe it to begin with. The two of them rode on after Jorah and his dolt of a wife, Lynesse Hightower, who were last seen riding for the merchant's ship. Dacey and her mother got there with time to spare, and one look at her cousin told Dacey all she needed to know; he was fleeing from justice, he had sold free men into slavery. Dacey was distraught, and rode headlong towards her foolish cousin, who she had looked up to fondly as a child, and drew her mace. It was then that Boar stepped into her path, and the two fought for a few minutes, neither giving ground until Dacey smashed her mace into Boar's left thigh before following up with a hard swing into the top of his head. When Boar dropped dead Dacey looked to the side to see that her mother had just killed the men sent to stop her, and when they both looked at the ship it was already sailing away, with Jorah onboard.
Dacey was utterly heartbroken that day; her cousin, who she had loved as a sister loves a big brother, had brought shame upon House Mormont in an unforgivable manner, and the man she had given her virtue to had died by her hand. Dacey returned to her rooms in Mormont Keep and locked herself away, where she wept like a little girl. She stayed there for a night and a day, until her mother threatened to knock the door off of its hinges. Dacey let her mother in and for the first time since she was a young child she wept into her mother's arms; she let her feelings out and revealed her tryst with Boar to her. Instead of getting angry as Dacey had expected Maege had just held her close to her and soothed her as she did when she was very young. That evening Maege had returned to her rooms with a cup filled with moon tea.
"You can drink it or not Dacey," Maege Mormont told her in a gentle motherly tone, which was very unusual for her to do with her older daughters. "It's up to you my girl. I won't tell you what to do now, but remember this; with Jorah gone and no men of our House left, I am now the ruling Lady of Bear Island, and you are now the heir. Any sons you have will inherit after you, the question is, do you want a son now or later?" Swallowing her tears Dacey drank the moon tea, deciding that she would rather have a son from a man who was worthy of her.
That was five years or so ago now, and since then Dacey has not shed a tear for any reason. She took to her duties as heir quickly, and trained regularly with her mother and sisters as well as the Mormont guards. A week after Jorah's flight Lord Stark arrived with his oldest son, his heir Robb, who was a lad of ten then. It was the first time she had seen Lord Stark's son since he and his half-brother Jon Snow were infants settling in to Winterfell a few months after Robert's Rebellion ended. Dacey and her mother and sisters greeted Lord Stark who had arrived with his sword Ice, ready to carry out the King's Justice. Lord Stark was angry that Jorah had escaped, but he did not lay any blame on Dacey or the rest of her family. He stayed at Bear Island for three days, and Dacey had spent some time with young Robb, who she remembered looked up to her with awe back then. After they left Dacey fell into the routine that has been her life for the last five years.
Over the last five years she has only had one other man; a fisherman named Kenet, who served as a soldier during the Greyjoy Rebellion. Kenet had trained alongside Dacey one afternoon three years ago when he came to train at Mormont Keep's training yard, which was something he did quite regularly; he said it was to make sure he knew how to swing a sword if he ever got the call to arms again. For a month Dacey got to know him, and she felt a slight attraction to Kenet, which ended with her sharing his bed one night. They met up frequently for nearly a year until a band of wildlings raided Bear Island, and the guards marched out to meet them with Dacey among them. The day after the fighting Dacey found Kenet lying face down in the water with his throat slit from ear to ear. Dacey was upset, but did not cry over his death; he was old and by his own admittance past his prime. Dacey knew from their conversations over the months they had been together that he had been married but had never had children, so she knew that she would never bear the man's children, but despite that Dacey had cared for him.
After Kenet she decided to not lay with another man until she met someone who would accept her and sire children with her, which was easier said than done as most men she met who would be suitable for marriage did not accept her martial lifestyle. She decided long ago that she would marry before bearing children, unlike her sister Alysane who had first gotten pregnant outside of wedlock nearly ten years ago. Alysane was pregnant with Bera at the same time that their mother was pregnant with Lyanna, Dacey's youngest sister. Dacey remembered hearing her mother raging not because her daughter was pregnant and unmarried but because she was pregnant at the same time as her. Dacey and Lyra had laughed while Jorelle was too confused to understand what was going on. While Dacey and her youngest sisters would fall quiet whenever their mother raged, Alysane did not, for she was more like their mother than the others. That day Mormont Keep shook with the sounds of two pregnant ladies screaming angrily at each other. It was quite a funny scene looking back on it, but at the time it was anything but funny.
After laying down lazily on the bed Dacey huffed in annoyance and sat up, looking around the room to try and figure out what to do. Dacey hated not doing anything, and she had not brought any books with her. The only thing she brought from Bear Island was the blanket that she had been working on for Beron, her nephew by Alysane. He would be two soon, and Dacey thought that it would be nice to do something for him. He was too young for a sword or mace, and far too little for his first shirt of chainmail. Reaching over to her travel bag Dacey decided to inspect the blanket; she took it out and unfolded the blanket, looking at the bear that she had sewed on. It was almost complete, she just needed to sew on the left leg of the black bear sigil of her House and it would be finished. As Dacey looked into her bag to find the box with her sewing kit there was a loud banging on the door.
"Enter!" she called out in a huff. Of all the people in the North there was only one person who knocked on a door like that. The door swung open and Smalljon Umber stood there with a small smile.
"Not interrupting I hope?" he said in a jesting tone. Dacey gave him a quick frown.
"If you had waited another minute then I'd be throwing the nearest object within reach into your ugly mug Umber," she retorted. Smalljon just laughed at her.
"I'll get you eventually," he said with a grin. Smalljon has been trying to disturb her at what would be an inconvenient moment for her ever since Dacey walked in on him to drag him to council while he had been enjoying himself with a camp follower. That had been weeks ago just before Robb decided to march past the Twins. "Anyway, a few of us are gathering for drinks in the hall. Robb though you might want to join us." Dacey looked at her friend and sighed in annoyance; she really wanted to finish the blanket, but the idea of having a few drinks was more appealing.
"Damn you Umber," she said as she put the blanket away, rolling it up before putting it into her bag. "Well, I'd rather have mead than prick my fingers again," she said as she stood up from her bed and walked up to the door. Of all the things that Dacey was good at, sewing was not one of them. As she closed and locked the door behind her she looked back at Smalljon. "Why is Robb not here if he wanted me to join?" she asked. Smalljon looked at her with a raised brow.
"What, are we missing our wee wolf, are we?" he teased. Dacey swatted her good arm at him, but he stepped out of the way just in time.
"Oh yes, I'm terribly offended that he would not ask me himself if I fancied a drink," she said in a mocking tone, making both of them laugh.
"Well Robb was on his way, but Maester Vyman told him that there was a raven from Harrenhal not that long ago requiring his attention," Smalljon answered. Dacey nodded her head then.
Fifteen minutes later the two of them were sitting down at a table in the great hall with a cup each of mead. At the same table as them were Ser Wylis Manderly and his brother Ser Wendel (who were tucking into their dinner), Harrion Karstark and his surviving brother Torrhen (whose father was busy praying in the godswood of Riverrun), Galbart Glover and his younger brother and heir Robett, and Robin Flint of one of the three branches of House Flint (Dacey cannot remember which branch he is from). The nine of them raised their cups for a quick toast and then they got lost in their conversations. After a short while Robin and Smalljon began to sing 'The Winter Maid', with Torrhen and Robett joining in after the first verse; then they sang 'Wolves in the Hills' and then 'Black Pines' before looking to Dacey to join in.
"I'm only good at singing the tavern songs lads," she said to Harrion and Torrhen, who just laughed.
"There must be a song you can do some justice to?" Harrion asked. Before she could answer Robin interrupted.
"How about 'The Bear and the Maiden Fair'?" he suggested. A couple of the others cheered in agreement. Dacey glared at the Flint lordling before looking back at the rest of the table.
"You really don't want me to sing that," she said. "I only sing that when I'm royally drunk, and then again only if I've no intention of being seen in the place where I sing that song for at least a year." The Manderly brothers both laughed at that while Smalljon had a look of disappointment.
"There must be something you can sing?" one of the Riverlords from a nearby table shouted over. Dacey glared at the table, but the offending lord kept their head low. At that moment the bard who had arrived at Riverrun a few days ago shouted at the top of his lungs to draw everyone's attention.
"My good lords and sers and ladies!" he called out. "While the good Warrior Lady of Bear Island thinks of a song that she could sing without butchering, which I gather she is concerned about doing, how about I sing a good song that anyone can enjoy?" The hall fell silent as the bard strummed his lute and cleared his throat. "Does anyone have any objections to 'The Dornishman's Wife'? I know I certainly wouldn't object to such an exotic lady." The men in the hall laughed loudly at the bard's jape before falling silent again. After a few moments the bard began to play his lute, building up to the song before he finally started to sing.
"The Dornishman's wife was as fair as the sun, and her kisses were warmer than spring.
But the Dornishman's blade was made of black steel, and its kiss was a terrible thing.
The Dornishman's wife would sing as she bathed, in a voice that was sweet as a peach,
But the Dornishman's blade had a song of its own, and a bite sharp and cold as a leech.
As he lay on the ground with the darkness around, and the taste of his blood on his tongue,
His brothers knelt by him and prayed him a prayer, and he smiled and he laughed and he sung,
'Brothers, oh brothers, my days here are done, the Dornishman's taken my life,
But what does it matter, for all men must die, and I've tasted the Dornishman's wife!'"
The bard sang the song slowly from beginning to end, and many within the hall began to sing along with him at the end, even Dacey who sung quietly. Once he was done everyone cheered and started to request songs from him, and Dacey was quite glad for that. After he had finished singing his second song Dacey stood up and left the hall, walking outside to get some fresh air. She walked out to the courtyard where it was quieter but also a little bit chilly, not that Dacey minded that. As she walked she saw Lord Dondarrion sat down on a bench not far from her drinking from a wine skin. Deciding to keep the man company Dacey walked over to the Stormlord, who looked deep in thought.
"Lord Dondarrion," she called out to him. The man turned his head to look at her and gave her a kind smile.
"My Lady Mormont," he began, rising to give her a bow. "Are you well?" he asked her.
"Better now I've had a couple cups of mead," she said. "Why are you out here? I'd have thought that you would be with your squire Edric?" The lord gave her a sad smile in answer.
"After my last two battles I don't think I am worthy of sharing drinks with your fellow Northmen," he answered. "Twice I swore to a Northern lord, a Stark no less, to bring an enemy down, and twice I have failed. Lord Robb probably detests me for my failure." Dacey snorted in response to that.
"Lord Robb detests the Lannisters for invading his grandfather's lands," she said. "He detests the Boy King for imprisoning his father under false charges. He despises the boy's mother for trying to intimidate him with threats." She stepped closer to Dondarrion and sat down on the bench next to where he had sat. "But he does not detest you my lord. If anything he was impressed with you." Now it was Dondarrion's turn to snort.
"Was he?" he asked as he sat back down, his voice uncertain. "'Tis hard to tell with the way he looks at people." Dacey sniggered at that remark.
"My mother says that is a Stark trait," she told him. "Starks often give that look when dealing with an unfamiliar lord. That goes doubly so for Southrons." After saying that Dacey grimaced. You're always saying something stupid in front of those of the south woman. Well done, she chastised herself. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that," she said, only to receive a laugh from Dondarrion.
"It's quite alright my lady," he said as he turned to look at her. Dacey rolled her eyes in annoyance at the use of her title. "Is something wrong my lady?" Dacey scoffed at the question before facing him, trying not to look annoyed.
"My mother is the lady, I'm just her heir," she stated. "I'd prefer you to either use my House name or my given name my lord." Dondarrion just looked at her, bringing his wine skin up to his mouth.
"Why is that my lady?" he asked. Dacey huffed in annoyance.
"Because I..." she began until she saw the smirk from the Stormlord. "Oh very funny Dondarrion," she snapped. The man laughed, a deep rumbling laugh that was infectious. They laughed for a minute before calming down. After a moment Dondarrion sighed and looked up to the evening sky.
"Do you have much in the way of family?" he asked her. Dacey looked at the man, who just looked up at the sky.
"Four younger sisters and my mother," she answered. "My uncle, who serves at the Wall as the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. And my idiot cousin Jorah, who fled after disgracing our House." She kept quiet for a moment to give Dondarrion a chance to respond.
"No brothers?" he asked next. Dacey chuckled.
"I wouldn't be the heir if I had brothers," she said.
"Ah, of course," he said with a chuckle. "I've no siblings, but I have two cousins from my uncle. Both have coveted Blackhaven for years, hoping that I would die in tourneys or while dealing with bandits or troublesome Dornish criminals. Just yesterday I got a message from a rider from the Stormlands." Dondarrion paused before taking a deep breath. "'Get your arse back home and pledge us to King Renly, or one of us will take your position as Lord of Blackhaven' they said." Dacey looked at him and shook her head.
"That's a foul thing to do to kin," she said.
"Aye it is," he replied. "But that is the way of things in the south. The elder of my cousins is already married with a son of his own, while the younger seeks fame and glory, hoping that will get him recognised. Plus they both see me as unfit due to my choice of betrothed." Dacey looked at him in confusion then.
"What does that have anything to do with it?" she asked. Dondarrion looked at her then with a sombre look.
"Blackhaven is situated in the Dornish Marches, along the Stormlands' southern border with Dorne," he said. "My betrothed is Allyria of House Dayne of Starfall." Dacey understood him after that; a lord of the southern Stormlands marrying a Dornish lady would be like a Bear Islander marrying an Iron Islander. There would be too much resentment on either side. "My squire is my betrothed's nephew, and Edric is the future Lord of Starfall, assuming his father still lives. Lord Dayne has been ill as of late, and not expected to make a recovery." Dacey sighed when Dondarrion finished speaking then.
"I can see why your cousins would resent you," she said. "But I can see the benefits to marrying a Dornish lady, it should lead to better relations with Dorne, in theory. But to make a demand like that? That is not honourable, not in the slightest." Dondarrion snorted in agreement.
"Do you ever compete with your sisters?" he asked her.
"Aye, frequently," she said honestly. "But our competing is always friendly, we never try to hurt each other. And on the very rare occasions that we do, our mother sorts us out. Severely." Dondarrion gave her a small smile at that.
"I wish I had such a good relationship with my kin like that," he said. Dacey smiled back at him.
"Maybe when you and Lady Allyria marry you can raise your sons and daughters to have a better relationship than what you've had with your cousins?" she suggested. Dondarrion smiled at her, taking a swig from his wine skin.
"Maybe," he said. Before Dacey could speak she heard someone walking over to them. She turned her head to see Smalljon's father, the Greatjon, stomping over.
"Lord Robb wants everyone inside now," he said with the widest smile Dacey has seen from him in a long time. "We've got some good bloody news for a change."
Dacey and Dondarrion followed the Lord of Last Hearth as he led them back inside the hall in Riverrun. Dondarrion walked off to the right to join his squire and the men of his warband while Dacey walked to the left to join Smalljon and the others at their table. Dacey took her seat and looked across at Harrion, who now had his father sat beside him.
"Harrion, what's going on?" she asked. He looked back at her and shook his head.
"I've asked my father, but he's staying tight lipped," he responded. Lord Rickard looked over his shoulder at his eldest son before looking at Dacey. He looked a little bit better than he had done after learning about the death of his son Eddard, but his beard still looked untidy.
"Good news from Ser Helman," was all he said before looking back to the front. Dacey looked up to see Robb was stood beside his uncle and mother, with the Blackfish and the Greatjon stood on either side of him. After a moment the Greatjon bellowed out to the hall.
"ALRIGHT YOU SHITS, QUIETEN DOWN!" His voice echoed around the hall for quite a while before it became quiet enough that Dacey could hear a pin drop on the opposite side of the hall from her. Once the hall was quiet Robb stepped closer to the table and leaned his hands down on it.
"My lords and ladies!" Robb called out. "We have had some good news reach us today. Word from the Vale is that some of the lords have declared their intent to march out against the orders of my lady aunt, who had denied her lords from marching to join us. Lord Royce of Runestone has said that with the news of Tywin Lannister's defeat and capture those lords who had supported Lady Arryn in her stance of staying neutral have begun to side with the Houses who wish to join our campaign and aid us." There was murmuring around the hall then, as some of the older lords who fought beside the knights from the Vale voiced their support of this decision. "But that is not the best news," Robb continued with a slight smile. Dacey leaned in closer upon hearing that, wondering what could be better than that. "Ser Helman Tallhart and Lady Maege Mormont have both added their signatures to this letter to verify the authenticity of the letter, which was written with my lord father's writing and signature." There was a stunned silence then, and it seemed that everyone was beyond surprised at this news. "My father and sisters have managed to escape from King's Landing," Robb's voice boomed, and Dacey could tell that her friend and future liege lord was very happy with this news. "They are on their way to Riverrun as we speak."
With those final words spoken, every person within the great hall began to cheer at the news. Dacey felt elation upon hearing that Lord Stark was riding for Riverrun with his daughters. Dacey knew that Lady Stark would be thrilled to be reunited her husband and daughters, and the direwolf named Nymeria would be overjoyed to be returned to her mistress. As the lords of the North and the Riverlands cheered and shouted out with glee, Dacey heard the familiar sound of Grey Wind howling loudly over the crowd. Soon both of the direwolves were howling, and the hall was filled with the sounds of delight and joy as the song of wolves echoed throughout Riverrun.
Soon there was space cleared out on the floor and everyone proceeded to drink and dance as their hearts were lifted after the cost of the last few days. Many of the wounded men from the battle of the camps had died from their injuries, including Lord Bolton who had lost far too much blood after being wounded by the Kingslayer (although in truth few mourned his passing). But the sorrow of their losses had been replaced with the joy of the news that their liege lord was free from false imprisonment, and Dacey would go to bed that night drunk, with her legs sore from dancing and a wide smile on her face; the Lannisters were now pretty much finished, and while the coming war may well be far from over, victory for the North was pretty much assured. As she flung herself on her bed, Dacey could not help but giggle as she thought about the words of both her House, and her liege lord's House.
Winter is coming for the Lannisters, she thought, and here we stand ready to destroy them.
Author's Note: I took a few liberties with this chapter as you may have gathered.
We really have no idea about the background of the Company of the Rose other than they are descended from men and women from the North who chose exile after Torrhen Stark bent the knee. So this is my own personal take on them for this story, and I can see a disgruntled son or other relative of Torrhen leading the exiles. They will return to this story later on.
Also I fleshed out the backstory of Dacey Mormont in this chapter. We really don't know anything about Dacey's past or what she has or has not done before the start of A Song of Ice and Fire. Some folk might not like the fact that she has had a couple of lovers in the past in my fic, but I find it plausible for her to have been with a man at least once in her life before the start of canon events. Her mother and younger sister have had men so why not? We'll have more from Dacey's POV in this story, and possibly a romance which I have yet to decide upon (and no I'm not gonna ask you guys to sway me with this decision).
Next chapter will have the reunion at Riverrun with Ned and family as well as the truth about Jon being revealed. The chapter after that (chapter 8) will be I can tell you entirely from Robb's perspective. See ya next time guys.