Winterfell
Jon Connington
"Damn bastard."
Jon hissed under his breath, cursing the damned dragon as he inspected the wound that Rhaegar had inflicted upon him during their duelling. A small cough brought his attention towards his chamber door where the timid Lady Ashford stood, her eyes downcast as her face reddened when she took note of his chest. In the silence, he grimaced when his blunt nail caught the dried blood of his wound letting the blood flow from it once more. Jon stared at the woman, his brow raised as he took in her frightened features.
"You look troubled, Lady Ashford," Jon commented, pressing a damp cloth to his bleeding wound. "What is it?"
"It is Princess Elia," The blonde haired woman began. "She wishes to speak with you, My Lord."
"Can't it wait?" He grunted, his brows furrowing in concern.
"It is a matter of importance," Lady Ashford insists.
For a fleeting moment, the woman looks panicked and pained but the frightful emotion is gone from her and is filled with a quiet determination that he cannot help but admire. Women, he thinks to himself as the woman garbed in pink silk takes a step forward. The most daring and admirable creatures in this world. The fiercest ones. It is times like this that he thinks of his own mother and he could not help but let a small smile appear on his stoic face.
"Please," The woman begs. "We must make haste, my Lord."
Jon let out a silent curse, dropping the cloth and slips his tunic over his head, shuddering at the uncomfortable feeling of the clothing clinging to the dampness of his skin. He followed after the shaking woman through the red bricked halls of the keep. Jon winced with each stride he took, his side stinging as he walked behind the woman. He struggled up the steps towards the tower, stiffening at the sound of weeping before he opened the door to her chambers. Although Jon was never on the best of terms with Elia, he could not help but give the bedridden woman a pitiful glance before a small smile appeared on his face when he noticed the silver haired babe in her arms. Aegon, he recalled the joyous moment the Prince came into the world.
After the birth of Prince Aegon, Princess Elia had been bedridden ever since. When it came to childbirth, the woman's fragile and lithe figure could barely handle it. Jon could still remember before and after the birth of the beautiful Princess Rhaenys, the woman had been bedridden for most of her pregnancy and birthing the Prince was no exception. The same terrible things happened to Elia. He looked from the babe in Elia's arms to the mischievous Lady in Waiting, Ashara Dayne but his frown returned when he saw fear present in the purple eyes of the woman. Seeing the tired face of Elia Martell reminded him of how young she was and it caused him to wince.
"My Lord," Princess Elia greeted, her voice soft and hushed. "I am sorry to call upon you but it is of importance. How is Rhaegar? I have not seen him since the birth of Aegon. It has been days. And what of the ship for Dorne? Is it prepared? Once I have grown stronger, I wish to leave for Dorne to see Doran and Oberyn. There has been talk that Rhaegar has disappeared this morn and his whereabouts are uncertain, is there truth to this?"
"Rhaegar...Rhaegar is-" Jon paused, looking for a word to use. Deluded? Mad? Insane? His thought offered but he shook his head. "Prince Rhaegar is well. I am sure he will come to see his son and daughter son soon, Princess. The last I heard, he was travelling to Dragonstone to oversee some business for King Aerys. He will be back soon, I swear. "
Lies, the better part of him hissed. Ever since the she wolf made her presence known, he knew from the moment that the Dragon Prince locked eyes with Lady Lyanna Stark that it would cause nothing but trouble and it has. He has managed to keep the rumours of Lady Lyanna and Prince Rhaegar quiet but so far he has been unsuccessful and it led to a bloody fight between himself and the Prince. All the hope he had for the Princess of Dorne had turned to ash when Rhaegar rode passed his own wife and mother of his children at the tourney and crowned Lady Lyanna, his Queen of Love and Beauty. You damned fool, Jon cursed Rhaegar. He knew that if the relationship continued between the wolf and the dragon, the whole of Westeros would burn.
"Dear Jon," Princess Elia murmured, tears gathering in her eyes as she looked at him hopelessly while he stiffened at the term she used for him. The woman barely called him by his name and only used proper titles. "Amongst the court of King's Landing, you are one of the most kindest I have ever known but do not spare my feelings. He is with her, is he not? Has he lain with her? Married her? Taken her as a second wife and left me to rot and wither? Tell me, Jon."
"Do not cry, Princess," He sighed. "I have tried to knock some sense into him but-"
"You got hurt," The brown haired woman interrupted with a breathless sob which unsettled Aegon in her arms. "I'm sorry. I am sorry, Jon. So-"
"No. I do not want to hear another apology pass from your lips," Jon retorted, his brows furrowing as he lightly scolded the woman. "You have nothing to be sorry for. It is his foolishness. You are dutiful, Princess. Unlike him. Seven Hells! I don't know which God is jesting but I'm not laughing. When I get my hands on that bloody dragon, I'll wring his neck."
"Not if I get to him first," Ashara laughed, though her bout of laughter held no humour but instead held anger and bitterness. "You men...All the same!"
"Excuse me? There are no other men like me," Jon growled, taking offence as he turned to face the glaring woman but a sigh brought his attention back to Elia.
"I must be strong," Elia breathed, hushing Aegon. "I must prepare for what is to come. For the sake of Rhaenys and Aegon. I must..."
"Prepare for what, Princess?" He questioned hesitantly, his eyes looking to the stone floor as he braced himself for the answer he did not want.
"War," The brown eyed woman said, causing him and Ashara to stiffen at her words. "You and I both know, Jon. You are no fool. Rhaegar has made his choice. As have I. He can do as he wishes. I do not care for him now. I care for my children, Rhaenys and Aegon. I am now a mother protecting her daughter and son. And I will. Yet as of late, I have grown weaker. The Maester told me that I should have died but I lived on and I know why I lived on. I still have a purpose. It is to protect my dragons. I need your help, Ser Jon Connington...Come closer."
"Princess," Jon began in disbelief, striding over to her bedside until he was kneeling beside her and took her shaking hand and nodded respectfully towards the young woman. "You do not need to ask anything of me, for I would already do it. I love Rhaenys and Aegon...Your children will be safe as long as I still have some fight left within me. Your children will live until their skin wrinkles and their hair grows white and withered. I will protect you and your children until my dying breath."
"Listen to me, Jon Connington..." Elia Martell croaked, tears falling sliding down her face and he wiped them away, unable to look at the crying woman as his heart ached. He has seen a lot of horrors and cruelty in his years that he has grown used to most things but a weeping woman was something that he could not bear to witness. Damn you, he cursed once more as he stared on at the sobbing Elia. Rhaegar. Come back, fool. Do not take Lady Lyanna to bed. Do not start a damned war over some girl. It is bad enough we have a Mad King but a Mad Prince? The woman sat further up, despite the objections of Lady Ashara and her tight grip on his hand made his fingers grow white as she showed him the small babe. "You must protect him. He is the heir to the Iron Throne. A Prince of Westeros."
"Of course I will bloody protect you," Jon whispered fiercely, returning the tight grip. "I promise that I will protect you and your children to the end of my days."
"My children," Elia mumbled. "Varys has sworn that Rhaenys and Aegon would live. I have made arrangements for my daughter to go to Dorne. I am grateful that Lord Varys will take her there...However, I have very little people I can trust in court and you are the last person I can trust. I entrust in you, my son, Aegon. I am dying...Each day I grow weaker and if I am to die, I will die knowing that my children will outlive me and their father. When the war breaks out...Take Aegon...Protect him...Promise me, Jon."
"I promise, Elia. I will not fail you."
"Ah, hello!" Ramsay greets, his voice hoarse and filled with mocking malice as he stares at him with wide and feral eyes. "I trust that little prick is going to fight my father? Good. You have raised some pathetic whelp...He can't even kill me! Let's me rot in a cell. Tell me, where is my Reek? I thought he would have helped me by now. I'm his Master. I'm part of him. I always will be there. No matter if I am dead or alive. I have planted that seed of doubt into the boy's mind and the moment he finds out...He will turn on you. He might even kill you. Aegon and I...We are quite alike, are we not? When my father retakes Winterfell, I will kill the boy in front of you and-"
"If you don't shut yourself up...I will shut you up!" Jon growls, his voice low as he hoists Ramsay up and shoves him roughly up the stone steps, uncaring if the bastard that looked more like a corpse rather than a man trips or not. "You have already lost some limbs, bastard. Care to lose another fucking one? You hear that. Take a listen. We're preparing to fight against a siege. Your father's siege, to be exact. In comparison to what I've seen...I will have this battle finished within in minutes."
"Oh, really?" Ramsay mused, gifting him a snarling grin. "And how do you plan to do that?"
Jon ignored him, giving him a rough shove so that he fell to his knees beside Mors Umber and Smalljon. Jon marches along Winterfell's castle wall until he comes to a stop beside Aegon who was staring down at the army marching for the gates. Red Jon, for a mere moment he does not see a young man at his side, he sees a young boy desperate to sail the seas and discover new found lands with him and his crew. As a lad, Aegon had called him Red Jon before his red hair had started to grow white and all he could do was frown, taking in the boy's ever hardening features. A boy playing at war, he thought. A war we started.
"You want war," Jon muttered. "You have been given a war. You must defend Winterfell. If Winterfell falls to House Bolton...We will lose."
"I have been arrogant as of late..." Aegon responds. "What have I done, Jon? Have I condemned innocent men to their deaths?"
"You have brought us to dance with the Stranger," He informed him. "Now face it, Aegon. You are no longer a child. You are a man now. A man who must face the consequences of his actions. Men will die on this night but the men fighting for Winterfell. The men fighting for you...You make them proud to face death. A death in battle is the greatest death a man can have-"
"No," Aegon denies, causing him to frown. "The greatest death a man can have is dying for those he loves. Is that not the best way to go? If I had to die...I will die knowing that I rid our world from some of the evils and saved you. You are all I have ever known, Jon Connington. The Shy Maid was and always will be my home along with the crew. We are family. You. Me. Haldon. Rolly. Lemore. Yandry and Ysilla. Even that damned bird of Rolly's that kept pecking me before the sun even rose. We may not share blood but we share a bond that can never be broken. You are my father. I have seen our promised future! I've seen it since I could dream. I am the change Westeros needs. We are the change."
"How so, lad?" Haldon asks, approaching them with a raised brow.
"Is it like the heroes?" Rolly chimed in, lips curling into a smile.
"I taught you to read, boy!" Jon interrupts, a gruffness to his voice. "The Age of Heroes. Those heroes suffered fates worse than death."
"Aegon Targaryen," A cold voice hissed, causing him to stiffen as he looked down to the gates. "I want my son."
Ugly bastard, Jon remarks to himself as he stares at Roose Bolton and then to a smirking Ramsay. I can see the fucking resemblance now. The pale, beardless man stared up at them with cold, calculating eyes that were paler than the ice surrounding Winterfell. The man's dressed in dark armour with leather resembling the colour of blood adorning him. He noticed some of his men shift in discomfort while others let out snarls or growls when they noticed the pink woollen cloaks that the armed men were wearing and noticed the shields had human heads painted on them with their faces flayed and mouths open in what looked to be utter agony. He watches as Mors Umber forces Ramsay to stand, he and various other men hoisting the weakened man over the wall so that his father could examine him. Roose raised a brow, staring at them impassively before a soft sneer made its way onto his features.
"No," Aegon retorts. "You have nothing to bargain with."
"Is that all, boy?" Roose demanded. "I will give you a choice hand over Winterfell or I will strike you down."
"Boy? Is that supposed to be some sort of insult?" Aegon retaliated with a fierceness that could rival any dragon, letting out a small chuckle. "How many times must I say that I will not hand over Winterfell before you understand? You can live in my new world, Roose Bolton or you and your son can die in your old one? I am Aegon of the House Targaryen, I am the son of the Dragon. I am unbowed, unbent and unbroken."
Jon raised his brows, taken aback by the unusual fierce tone to Aegon's voice. It was a strange feeling, looking at the man that was once his boy defending a castle. A boy that has grown knowing nothing but sea and sand. Living impoverished on a ship, living on their dreams of retaking Westeros and avenging House Targaryen. I don't believe in many things, Jon thought as he stared at the silver haired lad in wonder. But I do believe in you.
"Jon..." Aegon murmured, his eyes never leaving the angered Roose Bolton as he began to shout commands to his men. "It's time."
Young Griff
The castle shakes when rocks of flame are launched over the castle walls and the Bolton army begins to ram against the gates. Aegon stares down, examining the soldiers that were large in number. In the dark of night, it sounded as if it were animals fighting as men snarled, growled and roared their battle cries. Above them, he could hear Ramsay laugh hysterically but he paid him no mind as he loaded his bow and turned to face Ser Jon, watching the man's face harden as he looked out towards the men.
"Indeed it is," Jon replies. "It is time for war but what is our plan? Do you even have one?"
"I will end the lives of House Bolton. I will flay Roose and Ramsay Bolton. I will kill every last one of their soldiers," Stated Aegon, his grip tightening on his bow as another explosion rumbled the castle. He watched over his men as they attempted to douse out the flames but all he could do was stare at them in a trance, watching them dance within the wind that was picking up. "I will march for the Wall and while doing so, I will set Dreadfort aflame and I will watch as it turns to ash."
"Your mother nor father would approve," Jon grunted, grimacing as another boulder set aflame is thrown over the castle walls. "Did you know what the Mad King's plans were when there were armies at his gates? The Mad King was aroused with fire. It brought him great pleasure to see people burn. Men...Women...Children...He did not care. King Aerys burned whoever he pleased simply because he was King. He could do whatever he wished to whoever. As much as I hate Lannister's...Jaime Lannister did Westeros a service. He saved King's Landing. Your grandfather is remembered as a tyrannical, mad bastard and everyone curses his name. You will not be the same."
"It isn't the same-"
"It is," Jon interrupts. "You talk about setting things on fire. He talked about setting things on fire. I do not believe in many things but I believe in you. Do what is right."
Aegon gave a small nod, staring at the fire that was dying out before he turned to face his men who were staring at him, waiting for a command. The words of Jon urged him forward as he gripped his bow and twirled an arrow in his hand. The thought of keeping Winterfell and crushing House Bolton filled him with eagerness and he could not help but take pleasure in the thought of killing the Bolton's. This siege was not his first and it would not be his last. At the signal of his hand, he had his archers line up around the walls, taking their stance and aimed for the soldiers below them.
"For the Starks!" Aegon shouted. "Fire!"
I will show them the true meaning of fire and blood when I'm done with them, Aegon thought as he watched as the arrows were let loose and sent flying through the air towards the men below them. He watched in satisfaction as some men fell but called orders for them to fire once more. Nock, draw and loose. The arrows were sent raining down upon the Bolton soldiers causing some of the soldiers to fall but he knew no amount of arrows could stop them from getting passed the gates. The archers in line with him set another series of arrows loose. Aegon handed his bow over to Haldon as he unsheathes his longsword and raised it in the air. The sword glinted underneath the pale light of the moon.
"For the North!" The riled up men roared.
"Let them in!" Young Griff commanded, looking to the guards. "Let's show them what we're worth!"
The Lords of House Umber were the first to charge into the battle, thundering down the steps of the tower that Aegon was certain that they were shaking with their roars. Just as the gates were lowered, Mors Umber threw himself into the battle as he collided with several men and knocked heads off with a swing of his axe. The fighting started at the gate and spread quickly like wildfire. All the while, Roose sat upon his horse staring up at him with hatred in his cold eyes. A small smirk appeared on Young Griff's face but as he turned to face his archers, Ramsay lunged at him causing him to fall over the wall but he managed to grasp Ramsay's tunic and pulled him over.
This is what it must feel like to fly, Aegon thought for a mere moment before he landed on the men below them and let out a pained yell when he heard a sickening crack. At first, he thought it came from the men he fell on but then came the utter agony he felt afterwards. The pain spread through his chest, knocking the air from him as he tried to breathe but all he could do was gasp, his mouth opening and closing like a fish desperate to breathe. All he could hear was chiming bells in his ears above the noise of steel clashing against steel and feet on the ground.
With each slow movement, it pained him but he scrambled over the dead men and rose to his knees, thankful that he wasn't dead. Although he still struggled to breathe and his right foot was no doubt twisted, he limped to his feet and took in his surroundings, peering through the fog that had developed for Ramsay and Roose. If I live, Young Griff thinks. He still lives.
"Dragon spawn!" A voice mocked, causing him to stiffen before he turned to face the bastard of Bolton who now sat upon a horse with a sword in hand. "I think I'm up for that trial by combat now! You and me."
Aegon bent down and gripped an axe, inhaling slowly as he stood up despite the burning pain. Aegon was better with a bow and sword than an axe or spear. It has always been this way ever since his youth. Even with his limp, Aegon let instinct take over and ran forward, concentrating on the brown horse that the bastard Bolton was sat upon. His grip tightened around the axe and in that moment, he threw it causing the axe to hurtle towards the man.
A sinister smirk appeared on Ramsay's face as he raised the shield but his smile faded when the axe struck the horse in the neck and before the bastard could realise it, the dark haired man was thrown from his horse. At first, Young Griff thought that the land would kill the already injured man but Ramsay used his shield to take the brunt of the hit and let out a frustrated hiss as he hit the ground.
Aegon yanked a nearby sword free from a slain man and took a stance, waiting for Ramsay as he struggled towards him. He watched the man's face as it broke into a sadistic smile and all he could do was stare impassively and wait for the fight to come. The moment Ramsay was near him, he swung his sword and their swords clashed. The ring that came from the steel sang a deadly song of battle. He and the bastard of Bolton circled each other and with each step taken, he did not know when the feral man would pounce at him. Nothing else mattered to Aegon now as he focused on the fight between himself and Ramsay.
"You little bastard!" Ramsay snarled.
"Speak for yourself," Young Griff retorted with a scoff.
Ramsay swung the weapon at him with a ferocity which made Aegon lunge back, his twisted ankle screaming as he stepped far back from the bastard's attack. The brutish attacks from Ramsay were growing harder to deflect with the more pain that he felt. As the dark haired man advanced towards him once again and swung his sword. Aegon's heart sped up as he brought his sword up, blocking Ramsay's powerful blow. A smirk spread across the man's bloody face and he brought his knee into his stomach causing Young Griff to drop his sword and Ramsay's head collided with his own.
Aegon closed his eyes, the world around him had gone white as he stumbled back until he found his back against the stone wall of Winterfell. He let himself rest against before looking up to see a burning torch as Ramsay lunged to end his life, he reached into the flame and grasped a handful of ash and chucked it towards Ramsay's face. The man let out a guttural sound as the ash blinded him. He dropped his sword, stumbling back as he clutched his face allowing Aegon to jump him, tackling the man to the ground.
"Come on, lads!" Roared Jon, which made Young Griff's lips twist into a smile. "Look at them! They're falling back!"
"That..." Ramsay trailed off, opening his bloodshot eyes and looked at him with a maddened gleam. "Wasn't playing by the rules, boy."
"You made the first move, bastard," Aegon said with shrug, grimacing when he felt the pain crawl up his arm. "I was taking my turn."
Aegon straddles him, a sudden fierceness overtaking him as he grabs a large rock nearby and bashes it against his face. He continues to do so, letting out the aggression he had until the man's face become beaten and unrecognisable. The sharp rock was covered in crimson blood and pieces of flesh and bone was stuck to it. Aegon's wiped his blood covered face with the back of his hand and looked up from the bastard of Bolton and met the eyes of Roose Bolton. The man stared at the rock in his hand with widening eyes before trailing down to his son with a cold stare. All around him Bolton soldiers were running from Winterfell and passed Roose Bolton.
"Retreat!" Came voices.
"Stay and fight!" Roose growled, prowling towards the gates of Winterfell but many of his men dragged him back. "Stay and fight!"
Aegon hears laughter and looks down at Ramsay with a cold glare, the man cracks open an eye and gifts him a bloody smile. Young Griff raises the rock and brings it harder down on the man's face. Again and again, he brings the rock down on the man's head until he stops moving. The laughter remains in his ears as he stiffens, letting the rock drop from his vice-like grip and he remains atop of Ramsay, staring down at the face he caved in. Before letting his eyes trail towards the victorious men, watching as they celebrated the failed siege. This is their first taste of victory since the death of Robb Stark, he thought. Their hope.
The sound of Ramsay Bolton's death was announced by the caw of the crows that were flocking towards the corpses that had not yet gone cold. Fire, the crow's seemed to sing. Fire. Fire. The Bolton soldiers lost heart on seeing the death of the bastard. The footmen turned and fled from Winterfell and those that were trapped in the yard, dropped to their knees and surrendered themselves. Aegon raised his head, letting out a long, harrowing scream to let out all the pain he felt before he slumped to the ground, exhaustion claiming him as did the pull of sleep.
I must be dead, Aegon thought as he took in his strange surroundings with confusion. No longer did his bones ache and he could breathe much better than he did. Or am I dreaming? He was no stranger to the dreams of the beautiful she wolf or the dragon dreams that sometimes plagued him. This felt different. All around him was snow and a fog that rolled towards him like it did the sea during the earliest hours of the morning before the sun rose. He took a step forward, taking in ice covered forest around him. The fog rippled before calming once again when he stilled. Young Griff's eyes narrowed, seeing shadows move far ahead of him.
"Aegon Targaryen," A husky yet feminine said causing him to stiffen as the figure emerged from the fog. "I have been longing to meet you."
"Are you death?" Aegon inquired, raising a brow at the laughter that came after his question.
"No," The woman responded. "I am known as Quaithe."
His breath hitched when he heard her voice at the side of his ear, causing him to turn around and when he did, he sucked in a sharp breath. The woman was strange to look at if she was even a woman at all behind that red mask that appeared to be made of wood. All he could see was her wet brown eyes that seemed all too familiar and purple lips. She wore a black dress with a hood that covered her hair but that was not the strangest thing about the woman.
It was the bird. In all his years, he had not seen such a beautiful bird. The bird was redder than what Jon Connington's hair once was. At first glance, he would have guessed that the bird was a peacock but when he noticed the sharpness of its beak and the grey of its eyes, he could not help but grow suspicious. The bird curled around the woman as if she was its master.
"It's a beautiful bird, is it not?" The woman hummed, taking notice of his staring as she stroked the bird's beak causing it to make a small coo. "I am sure that you find the she wolf far more beautiful, do you not?"
"How do you know her?" Aegon demanded, taking in the bird's feathers that appeared to be glowing in the darkness.
"I know of many things," Quaithe mused. "Yet...You know nothing."
"And what things would that be?" He drawled. "Why did you bring me here?"
Unknowingly, he had stepped closer to her and the bird. The bird that reminded him of fire had pulled him far closer than he wanted. The hidden woman did not respond and instead motioned for him to come closer which he did with reluctance. The fog parted before them as they made their way through the woods. It was as if she could control the fog and shadows. The red masked woman led him to the entrance of cave made of ice and rock and then turned to him, watching him with care.
"The battle for dawn draws near," The woman murmured. "And we must win this war, Aegon Targaryen. If we do not, all will be lost. We will die. I pity you, summer child. All you have ever known is fire. I pity you and all the children born of summer. You have found the children born of winter. The Northerners. You must now find the child born of fire and ice. You must find them. I have seen the world end in fire and ice. You are but a grain in the sands of time. A fleeting moment. But nevertheless an important moment. You must become the three headed dragon. The horn of winter must be sounded."
"Who is the child of fire and ice?" Aegon asked, his brows furrowing as he stared at the bird that took off from the woman's shoulder. "Where can I find them then?"
"We have inherited the world," Quaithe told him, clasping her hands together beneath her robes as she turned to look at him. "Aegon Targaryen."
His mouth became agape when he noticed a woman emerge from the cave. Lysara, he thought as his purple met her grey. The darkened cave had lightened with fire as she emerged from it and he watched as smoke rolled out of it like the sea washes against the sand. In this light, he has never seen something more beautiful. He could have sworn that the necklace around her long pale neck was glowing with power like the grey eyes that laid his soul bare. Lysara's curved figure clung to the dress of crimson and in her hands she held a white horn with intricate patterns. A hint of a smirk was given to him before she raised it to her lips and when she blew the horn, it brought a chill down his spine and he was certain the sound of shrieking and ice cracking made his ears bleed.
"Lysara..." He trailed off, staring at her in wonder.
"Nēdenka dāez run," The woman informs him. "The fierce, free thing. The fire bird. The phoenix. You are to awaken soon. I can sense it. The hold I have is slipping."
"Will I ever meet her?" Aegon murmured. "Will I ever meet Lysara?"
"Yes. You will meet her soon. There is a war coming, Aegon, the war will come when the three headed dragon is in Westeros. You must bring the Stark girl back to Winterfell," Quaithe commands. "There must be a Stark in Winterfell for the war to come. For the war against winter. Lysara Stark must sound the horn of winter. If she does not, we will perish. The girl knows...I can sense it. She knows of her future. She will want to run with wolves but she must fly with dragons. He knows too. He knows that she is after the horn. It is a race for the Horn of Winter, a battle for dawn and a war against the darkness. You must make haste to winter."
Author's Note: Hi, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you have any questions, feel free to ask and I will happily answer them. I would like to thank all of you for making this story one of your favourites, following and for reading this story. I would like to give massive thanks to everyone that has left a review, I always enjoy reading them and the next update should be up soon!
Reviews-
RHatch89: Thanks, I hope you liked this chapter!
12345678910: Thank you!
ZabuzasGirl: Thank you, hopefully, you liked this chapter! I can't reveal what he said yet but it will come to light in the next few chapters.
EMILCE CULLEN-VULTURI: Gracias!
CrystalVixen93: Thank you, I'm glad you like this story and I hope you like this chapter!
Saint River: There will be a lot more lore about what lies beyond the Wall in the next couple of chapters. Lysara is a character that will make a lot of good points and a lot of bad points but she does test everyone. As she tested Stannis, she will test Aegon as well when they do meet. I wanted to go more into Jon Connington and I hope you liked his pov in this chapter although it was a small one but there will be more of him soon.
Arianna Le Fay: Thank you, I can say that in the next couple of chapters, Lysara and Aegon will meet soon but for now they just know each other from their shared dreams.
celticank: Thank you, I hope you like this chapter!
Guest: It's alright, I think it's a good thing that Lysara will be a character who will do things that the readers won't necessarily like. Lysara is a character that likes to have her own opinions and has a sort of fierce protection about her opinions and views even if they aren't the right or good ones. I can't tell you the fate of Stannis yet but I can say that he and Aegon will not meet on good terms.