The Dragon and the Hawke 62
- Inn at the Crossroads -
It was strange to concieve of a world without Marian Hawke, she's forced her way into reality and helped Daenerys Targeryen take over half the known world. It was honestly a surprise when some people had never heard of her.
"So you're saying that there's a god, a real god, making a ruckus across the sea?" Hot Pie asks, very confused.
"Aye," The one eyed Berric Dondarion nods, it had been several years since last they'd seen each other, since the Hound's trial, really. And that the Hound was sitting next to the one eyed revenant was proof enough that the times had changed.
Hot Pie whistles, then takes an offered mug and refills it before handing it back, "Blimey, that must throw you lot for a tizzy."
"What makes you say that?" Berris asks.
"Well, ain't he a follower of Roller?" Hot Pie asks, pointing cautiously at Thoros of Myr on the other side of the Hound.
"R'hllor," Thoros corrects, "And I admit, it is a strange test of faith, to know that a woman hold the power of the gods."
"How do you… keep faith?" Hot Pie asks.
"I remember that my lord has a path, a plan, for me," Thoros takes a swig of mead, "Who's to say that Marian Hawke isn't just another part of her plan?"
"I do," The Hound grunts, "Some cunt across the sea isn't going to waste her time with us. She's got what, half a continent now?"
Hot Pie shrugs, he'd only heard about this god today. Thoros, on the other hand, nods, "We picked up some Lannister boys a few days ago, they said she and Daenerys Targaryen have taken most of the Free Cities in Essos."
"Seven, that's two continents Dragons have won for the Targaryens," Sandor grunts, irritated, "Fuck my luck, I'm drinking with fire worshipers and fucking dragons are across the sea."
"Fire is light, Sandor," Berris drawls, "Life, it is all that stands against the growing dark."
"Winter is coming," Hot Pie agrees, and then he pulls back when the three men turn to look at him in unison, "S'what Arry used to say. Winter is coming, and in the winter the pack survives."
"The fuck has that got to do with fire?"
"Well it has to do with standing up against the dark," Hot Pie defends himself, "Arry said it, and when she passed through he a few weeks ago, she said it again when I tol'er that the Starks have Winterfell."
"The Starks have Winterfell?" Sandor blinks, "the girl's alive?"
Berric and Thoros looks curious as well, the Lannisters they'd picked up for information the week before hadn't mentioned anything of the sort. They'd been more concerned with keeping the peace in the Riverlands and the destruction of House Frey.
"Aye, Stannis Baratheon took it back when he ousted the Boltons, gave it back to them when he marched south."
"And where is Stannis Baratheon now?" Sandor asks, cautious.
"Word from the Frey women that fled down the road is that he took over the Twins," Hot Pie tells him, "Wintering there so his army stays -"
"Hot Pie!" An older man calls, "You got other tables to tend, you can talk after you earn your keep!"
Hot Pie looks to the innkeeper and nods, he gives the three Brothers a cautious nod and moves away.
"So," Berris scratches his beard, "Stannis holds the Twins."
"Fuck me," Sandor growls.
- The Twins -
Stannis watched through a window as his daughter played in the snow. She was so innocent, and now that he looked back upon this last year, he realized how close he'd come to destroying her.
Mellisandre had told him that her god needed kingly blood, and he'd nearly given it to her. Had the weather not turned, had the Boltons not been dissaray, had a dozen things not gone right, he would have done something monstrous in his quest.
Now he needed to think.
Selyse was still as devoted to his cause, his divine right for the Iron Throne. Dorne was willing to swear, if not allegiance, then treaty. Olenna Tyrell and the Lords of the Reach were willing to join him as well. He was the most directly in line for the Iron Throne now.
Tommen and Myrcella were dead. As much as he despised them for being the children of incest, not true heirs true heirs to the throne, they did not deserve their deaths. He was hesitant to make ties with Dorne because of it. Ellaria Sand had murdered her lord, the rightful Prince of Dorne, and before that she had poisoned Myrcella.
The woman was dangerous, and he was hesitant to even send an envoy, and if he did it would certainly not be Davos. Davos would go to the Lady Tyrell, he was her sort. The seaman, who even now watched over Stannis's own daughter, had lost four sons to this war. He had lost them to the Lannisters, though it seems he bore little ill will towards Tyrion for the dwarf's part in the plan.
He would be able to sympathize with the the Queen of Thorns, at least on an emotional level. The woman didn't have much in the way of patience, especially not with her son and two grandchildren dead. Davos was a direct man, and he very rarely tried to dance around a subject.
"Devan," Stannis calls, and Davos's eldest remaining son, and last within his army's ranks, steps into the room, "Collect your father for me, I have a task for him."
"Yes m'lord," the boy bows and exits.
- Meereen -
Children, and the loss of them, seemed to be on many minds. Dany frowned at the ledger sent by Jorah from Yunkai; in it was described the conditions of a plague sweeping through the city. The illness, a variation of the Pale Mare by the description, was most aggressively killing children and elders.
"The situation grows worse by the day," Tyrion tells her, looking to Varys.
The Spider steps forward and notes, "I had heard some whispers from my little birds, but Ser Jorah's note arrived before I could give you the details, I've already sent word that they are to avoid the illness and move to the countryside until it subsides."
"Your little birds are children?" Yara asks, surprised.
"Who but? None notice a child wandering through the street, begging for coin, or a scullery maid who had always tended to the pots and done little else. Servants and children are rarely seen, your Grace."
Yara thinks for a moment, then nods hesitantly, "True enough, the little buggers are always getting underfoot. Can't say I ever paid them much mind, though."
"And I suppose that is now going to change?"
"You bet your fat ass it is."
"Charming, your Grace."
"Yara, Varys, please," Dany sighs, setting the letter down, "It doesn't say much, can we do anything to help?"
"We can try to get in contact with healers across the Empire and see who is willing to help," Tyrion offers as an idea, "Essos may not have as grand a tradition of learned men as Westeros, but there are several institutions that were once supported by the priesthoods."
"Who supports them now?" Daario asks, concerned. He'd been in more than a few healer's homes, and they were truly a lifesaver for master and slave alike.
"We do," Marian tells him, then frowns and admits, "Apparently I get donations, so I have to send that gold somewhere."
"I thought you loved looting?" Daario asks, he was sure that he'd been forced to sit through about twenty lectures on the perks of loot economics.
"Eh," Marian shimmies her hand, "I can't really count this as looting, I mean, yeah, it's mine, but they're just giving it to me. That's not looting, so I can't just keep it!"
"Of course," Darrio raises an eyebrow, but he can somewhat understand, there is a difference between gaining from hard work and gaining from the charity of others.
Dany clears her throat, "Can we return to the illness that is taking Yunkai?"
"Right, sorry," Marian nods, "Well I can send word through the healing houses that anyone that risks Yunkai will get a prize, or something."
"They will be rewarded with a set position within the city and a year's supply of pay so they may set their practice up and keep it running," Dany tells her, and after Marian nods, she asks, "Can your magic heal them?"
"Ah, no," Marian shakes her head, "If Anders were here, he could, but my skills with healing magic has always been weak. It'd be more likely whoever I tried healing would pop like an overfilled kidney, and that's a sign nobody wants to see."
- Sunspear -
Euron laughs as his latest victim's head explodes like an overfilled kidney. The bastard had spotted him, and that just couldn't be allowed. This was a stealth mission, after all. He couldn't spirit Ellaria Sand out of her fortress if he was being loud, now could he?
He'd have to be more careful, stick more closely to the shadows. His spell cloaked him from men's sight, but it didn't do the same to his shadow, and that had been the source of this current conundrum.
Speaking of, it took him a moment to grab the body and drag it off the path, into some bushes, and hide it very carefully behind a statue. Looking at the corpse, then down to himself, a truly grand idea springs into his head. It's clear that invisibility wouldn't be very effective in the Dornish sun, but a clever disguise had never failed him.
Why use magic when experience was just as useful?