"I want them ALL Renly, do you HEAR me?".
"Of course Brother but-"
"I DON'T WANT EXCUSES, every SINGLE Storm Lord is to sally forth or I'll rout them out of their damn castles my BLOODY SELF".
The king turned towards Stannis, the master of ships had as always a dour expression fixed upon his face.
"And you Stannis. I NEED every single treacherous lord of the narrow sea here as soon as they are able". Spittle flew from Robert Baratheon's mouth as he ranted, but if Stannis noticed he didn't say. "ALSO find whatever ballista's we have to spare and begin constructing new ones, I doubt the sister fuckers dare face us on the ground so better just shoot them out of the sky".
"Of course your grace". Earlier Robert might have tried to needle his brother at the formality, but now was most certainly not the time. Dragons had returned to Westeros, now more than ever he saw knives in the shadows wherever he went.
The people through this great gateway he had yet to see must be either cowed and if not, then destroyed before the quiet murmurs of "usurper" could be fanned into a raging bonfire. A sort of mass hysteria had descended upon king's landing and no doubt the Crownlands by extension. Everyone from the lowest of smallfolk, to the greatest of high lords knew that only one family rode on the backs of dragons. If the situation wasn't defused, the whole continent would be in an uproar as fast as the raven flies.
And yet he was very uncertain as to the true identity of these potential enemies, if only due to the strange report that Yohn Royce delivered personally, as he had actually spoken directly to this 'Murtagh'.
"What news from beyond this bridge between worlds?" He barked at the elder of his two younger brothers
"There hasn't been any news". Stannis responded, grinding his teeth menacingly as they walked towards the outer courtyard of the red keep. "The scouts are continuously reporting the sightings of no armies. The only thing everyone agrees on is that a single dragon and rider went through this 'gate between worlds'".
And hadn't that been a nasty awakening? The great gateway was located somewhere between Duskendale and Stokeworth, perhaps a half days ride out from king's landing. Yet even before the news had been brought to him by a terrified Tyrek Lannister, the red monstrosity had already flown over the red keep.
From news they received, it seemed as though the dragon had flown for a few hours around the Crownlands with unnatural speed, before once again retreating to the gateway and flying to only the gods knew where.
"That's not necessarily good; they must be waiting for something". He mused silently for a few seconds, seeing only one possible outcome. "There nothing for it, call the banners. The lords of the crownlands are to meet their king at Hayford. We'll form a vanguard whilst Renly whips up the Stormlands". It irked him that he couldn't go and rally the Storm lords himself, but he knew that the Crownlands in theory should be able to muster a force of ten to fifteen thousand strong, with good heavy horse amongst them.
They would have to do until reinforcement arrived.
"And get a raven to Winterfell and Casterly Rock, it might take a goddamn age but-" He was then rudely interrupted by none other than Jon Arryn's Squire, Hugh of the vale.
"Your grace!" the squire called, stopping respectfully before Robert as Ser Barristan moved to intercept, a steadfast wall of white gleaming plate.
For a moment the boy simply stood before the king, as though humbled by the mighty company of the trio of Baratheon's and the Kingsguard.
"Well?" Robert questioned impatiently. "What is it?"
The young squire's lips started moving, every word falling with the weight of a hammer blow.
"It's the Hand your grace he… he's dead".
"..."
"WHAT!" He roared, making the poor squire damn near piss himself
Voices started speaking, all around him everyone was yelling, clamoring for his attention.
"GET THOSE RAVENS FLYING NOW".
"Fifteen thousand you say?"
"That's an optimistic number your majesty, but regardless of the true number it is not an insignificant force".
"They are fielding an unusual amount of heavy cavalry as well. One could almost be forgiven for thinking king Orrin had declared war".
"What of their magical capabilities?"
Too many questions yet also too few answers.
Nasuada, daughter of Ajihad, queen of the Broddring kingdom looked up from the figurines depicting numbers and forces spread around the great map of western Alagaësia. They were but ten miles west from Ilirea and another ten miles east of this gate as reported by Murtagh.
Apart from herself there were five others in the great pavilion they now inhabited, located as they were in the open country between Illera and Dras'Leona.
Old but steadfast Jörmundur stood at the ready, instantly coming to her side when the news had reached him of a potential conflict.
The elven Ambassador Vanir had followed her into the field, young by his people's standards perhaps, yet not younger than Arya herself had been when she started counseling the Varden.
Godfrey too was here. The commander of her now significantly bolstered ranks of loyal nighthawks, since having replaced the first captain Garven five years hence. He might be a middle aged man, yet remained as spry and strong as in his prime, with both steel and arcane at the ready.
Then there was young Richard and of course his amethyst partner Avenass flying above. Richard who was but twenty three years of age, but had been trained personally by Eragon and his elven companions since the age of five when he was chosen by his dragon. His parents had uprooted themselves from the war torn lands surrounding Illera and had instead sought out the blooming rider city of Aiedail to the east. Divine intervention must have shone upon them, for not many weeks had passed until their young son had been blessed with a partner for life.
He was a handsome young man, dark hair with sharp defined features with piercing emerald eyes and if what knowledge Nasuada knew of rider lore was correct then he would only continue to grow into his looks as the decades passed.
Then last but not least there was of course Murtagh, ever faithful Murtagh. Routing out dissent and perceived danger wherever he found it. Nasuada knew her way well around the bow and could handle a sword decently, but everyone knew that when Nasuada truly drew steel, then her red rider was not far behind. It truly said something about the goodwill she had with the people of Alagaësia and the support of the nobles, that few comments were made about what exactly their queen and the son of Morzan did behind closed doors.
She figured that as long as no illegitimate heir was produced people would turn a blind eye.
"They possess few spell casters from what I've observed". She was roughly cast out of her musings from Murtagh entering the conversation, having answered Vanir's earlier question.
"The men I spoke with at the gate didn't even appear to have much of a mental barrier if anything at all".
"It is dangerous to assume that they have no magical might even if we take these observations into account" Jörmundur spoke softly, fingers scratching thoughtfully at his grey yet well-groomed beard.
"That I cannot argue with" Murtagh assented, but not before a small smile crept upon his human features, having magically stopped the inevitably elf like features from appearing outwardly. He gave a nod at Richard standing opposite him. "But we do have two riders with dragons at hand".
"I doubt that we could slay that many even between the two of us Murtagh". The junior of the two rider's answered skeptically. "Diplomacy should be our first option".
Jörmundur interjected. "I doubt you'd need to kill everyone Richard, rarely do men keep fighting against overwhelming death and terror". He paused for a moment, nodding his acceptance at Murtagh's unsaid assessment. "A shock and awe approach could potentially save many lives from both sides, if we were able to route this opposing army early". his calm voice filtered across the pavilion, words full of experience.
"Our good rider speaks sense though". Nasuada interjected, giving Richard an appreciative nod. "We have barely mustered five thousand men, with a little over a hundred magicians specialized in warfare". A headache was slowly forming behind her eyes. "And though I do not doubt their skill, battling an unknown enemy is not preferable". She looked over the map once again, noting the distance between their own position and the gateway.
"We do not have the time to wait for further reinforcements and if our reports are to be trusted, then these strangers are still beyond this strange gate. I do believe an envoy should be send, it is possible that they are just as confused as us, and uncertainty can only breed fear and suspicion".
"You mean to go yourself?" One might have thought Murtagh sounded disapproving or worried, but Nasuada knew that he was simply stating a fact. He understood that nothing could stop her from doing what was needed, even at the expense of her own safety. Besides, she knew that her lover was all too sure of his own ability to protect her should the need arise, perhaps to an arrogant extent even.
She smiled lightly at that, his arrogance did have some truth to support it. In the whole of Alagaësia and beyond, only Arya Dröttning, Eragon Shadeslayer and perhaps an exceptional Eldar or two could challenge him directly.
"Indeed, I will go and meet these people. You mentioned that they have some sort of aristocracy themselves, surely then, a queen of a foreign realm should carry some legitimacy". She gave Murtagh an expectant smile. "And being accompanied by two dragon riders should constitute as shock and awe no?"
Murtagh chuckled.
"Thorn did frighten them terribly"
Light humor filled smiles were exchanged within the pavilion at that, considering that they all most likely had at some point experienced the fear a dragon could produce.
"Then it is decided" She announced, giving a short glance at Jörmundur. "Have someone bring the message that I want to meet to whoever commands these people". The old general bowed his assent before leaving the pavilion to no doubt find their fastest and most diplomatic riders. "And you Godfrey, I trust a suitable escort will be arranged, the nighthawks are to be at their sharpest".
"Of course my queen, I'll whip up the lads in a heartbeat." She nodded satisfied.
"Though it's probably best to leave our proud Urgalgra behind, we have no idea how these people will react to them".
"I will see it done".
She turned to Vanir at last. "And what of you Vanir, you and your companions have followed us into the field despite not having to". It was the absolute truth. His only job was fostering a good relationship between the humans of the Broddring kingdom and the elves of Du Weldenvarden, instead he and three of his elven friends had accompanied them into this conflict.
Though one could argue that bleeding together with the humans you sought good relations with was a rather effective method of attaining said goodwill.
"It would gladden us, if we were allowed to follow you to the end of this journey Nasuada". His informal and familiar words were greatly appreciated. Vanir had not always been like this according to Eragon, but it seemed as though being an ambassador had changed something within the elven man.
"I would be honored to have you and your friends join my escort Vanir".
They all exchanged a few more pleasantries for a couple more minutes before excusing themselves and leaving the pavilion one by one, until only Murtagh remained.
Silence reigned for a minute.
"You are distressed". It shouldn't be a surprise that he could read her so well despite the long years they'd known each other, but it still annoyed her.
She massaged her temples. "We might be facing an invasion Murtagh, combine this with the dwarven clans being restless plus the Urgals are still yet to have a rider and I am bound to be… agitated".
She felt his arms encircle her, comforting her with his unspoken assurances that everything was going to work out in the end. She leaned into his embrace without complaint, marveling at how he was able to ease her frustrations with minimal effort. It was an injustice really. He was scarred from both before the war and of what he had done during it, and she could not ease his pain as he did hers.
"You really have no idea what has caused this" She was of course talking about the great anomaly of a gateway that she had yet to see.
"It is certainly not Alagaësian in origin, and when i gazed across the land beyond it was easy to feel that it was not of our world". She could feel him shift in their embrace, as he began drawing reassuring patterns across her back. "I am not as attuned to the land as the elves or Eragon's students, but even as I flew across manmade structures and nature both, pained whispers of conflicts untold, both past, present and future came to me".
"That is not exactly a comforting thought Murtagh". She chastised him slightly, yet no heat could be found in her voice.
"It is the truth and i know you'd rather understand what you are to face, even if it is dangerous, instead of hearing placating lies". And wasnt that refreshing. If she had a coin for every time some advisor had lied, due to some agenda or trying to ease her mind she'd be rich beyond imagination. Not so with Murtagh at least, he was brutally honest when it was needed.
"I suppose you got me there". She murmured into his chest, wanting nothing more than to stay like this for the rest of the day. Governance was tiresome, and she had been ruling for twenty years now, if it wasn't for Murtagh's magic keeping her natural aging process at bay for now, she'd no doubt have silver in her hair from stress alone.
She idly noticed that evening would soon be upon them, the sun's light now dimmer in the pavilion.
"I doubt we'll have any correspondence set up before tomorrow, we'd best get some sleep Murtagh". She knew he needed far less sleep than her, some sideeffect of his bond with Thorn from what he'd explained combined with his frequent magic use, but nevertheless he agreed. Her dragon rider escorted Nasuada through the camp like a sworn protector, ever at her side. His eyes looking around searchingly, as though the foreigners had already planted hidden assassins within their ranks.
After a short walk they found her personal tent, not far from the command pavilion with Murtagh following her inside. She had dinner brought for them, a calm washing over her as she conversed with both Murtagh and Thorn, laughing at the dragon's everlasting dry humor.
Sleep found her as she curled into her red rider's side, all thoughts of war and conflict far from her mind.
Riding through the great gateway was no less strange than the three times he had ridden around it Robert Baratheon thought. It was a monstrosity of a creation, no mortal man could ever hope to create this, and certainly not overnight as it had reportedly appeared. It had then come as no surprise that the religious lot within his crownlander host had aptly named it The Gods Gate. But even he didn't fail to realize that no one was quite sure which god was responsible, and he did not doubt that people were waiting to see whether this phenomenon was an omen for good or ill.
Nevertheless, the great construction had kept baffling him. When peering at the lands beyond one did not see the familiar fields and forrest that encompassed the lands leading to Duskendale, instead wholly unfamiliar terrain greeted him. Riding around the ring to look at it from behind had yielded no results either, as he was met with nothing but a wall of black stone. He was no genius at the laws of the world, but he knew that such was impossible, only magic could cause this, something that hadn't touched Westeros proper since dragon's roamed the skies.
But now answers might be arriving, his scouts had intercepted an envoy from a foreign power, this Queen Nasuada that Yohn Royce had mentioned in passing. He had sent his own trusted men to go treat with this woman and come to some arrangement of where to meet. Apparently from what was reported back to him, this Queen had no dragons of her own, yet had two Dragonlord's at her side. It was strange and against everything he knew about the Valyrians, and he knew more than he ever let on. He was afterall their descendant aswell, his grandmother Rhaelle Baratheon Née Targaryen came to mind.
But he knew the way of the dragons, a dragon dominated, it controlled and ruled, so why were these dragon riders ruled over by a queen with no mount of her own? Was she a mighty sorceress? Able to enchant any under her spell. Had she created this gate, intent on expanding her realm? Or perhaps she simply used her womanly gifts to seduce them. It wouldn't be the first time such had happened in Westeros.
Dismissing all these thoughts from his mind was rather easy, as he finally rode through the gods gate, a strange sensation crept over his skin as he did so, but was quickly dispelled as he looked upon the lands of this supposedly new and uncharted land.
For new it must have been, maester's and wisemen had flocked through when it had been declared safe. Almost a month had passed since its discovery and those with bronze links of astronomy were baffled beyond belief.
The stars and constellation were completely unknown to them. There were those that had begun whispering that this was a realm beyond Planetos, but surely they must be mistaken, the world was after-all unbelievably vast.
Or perhaps they truly had entered the realm of the gods.
He came to a stop, taking in the land before him. Forests and fields where smallfolk might have earned their bread spread before them, though no smallfolk could be found, as they had no doubt quickly fled either the strange sight of the gods gate or his host.
Probably both.
There was also a large hill some couple of miles away, quite lonely in an otherwise flat landscape, perfect for cavalry charges as his knights and lords kept pointing out, as though he hadn't realized this himself. But what really caught his eye was not just the hill, nor the vague shapes of people upon it.
It was the two dragon's flying over it, no doubt ready to aid their fell master's.
Signaling his intent to move forward and meet with these strangers was met with some quiet grumblings. Most had Argued that he should have stayed in the capital and ruled, no doubt also thinking him to fat for combat.
Bah, what did they know? Jon Arryn was dead, Stannis had to rally the narrow sea and Gods knows he'd never want Renly to lead an army. It had to be him.
He knew his body was a mockery of what he once was, more akin to an angry blob when riled up than the Demon of The Trident, but he had not been idle in these days. He had shed some weight, not enough for a drastic difference in appearance perhaps, but now muscles, having not seen proper use in years bulged dangerously underneath large layers of fat. He was far slower than before, but his strength was still prodigious, forcing whomever was his sparring partner to dodge his attacks rather than meet them head on.
Most days he sparred with Ser Barristan, the old Kingsguard was a menace though, easily capitulating on his poor stamina. Rarer were the days he fought the kingslayer, but he did enjoy the fear in the eyes of the blonde ponce whenever one of his mighty swings came too close. When both were busy, or he felt like having some fun he'd drag out lumpy for a match, not that there was much if any challenge in beating the young fool into submission.
'At least he comes whenever called for, no matter how many times he is beat'. He thought darkly. His oldest son was more likely to run and hide behind Cersei if he asked the boy to join him in the training yard.
He was too much a spoiled Lannister that one, perhaps it was time to take a different approach. He hadn't even joined his father for a proper march to war.
These thought were dispelled from his mind though as he, his loyal Baratheon knights from king's landing and the Crownlander lords made their way up the hill towards these foreigners.
As they neared the end of their ascend, the features of his potential enemies became easier to ascertain. He was no doubt not the only one searching the people in front of them for silver hair and Purple eyes, but there were no immediate Valyrian features to be found. Although there was one inhumanly handsome man with slanted eyebrows and silver hair to the side. Could this be one of the dragon riders?
Apart from that, the one he identified as queen Nasuada in fact looked like a summer islander, much the same as Jalabhar Xho back at king's landing. His eyes scanned the crowd ahead of him, their suspicious gazes upon him. Apart from two other men that shared the queen's complexion the rest of their procession could have easily passed off as people of Westeros.
Well, except for the missing banners and massive heraldry that he and his countrymen loved showing off.
There were also some shorter people amongst them, though to call them dwarves like say Tyrion Lannister would be a disservice. They were armed to the teeth and looked stout and strong, more akin to the men from ibbenese perhaps?
Regardless, as he looked upon this opposing monarch he began seeing things that no message could have ever delivered. She was armored and mounted on a great white horse fit for royalty. A gilded crown that managed to look comfortable yet also intimidating and able to impress sat on her brow, and there even hung a sword at her hip.
All this meant nothing on its own to a man like Robert Baratheon. Plenty of lordlings dressed to impress, yet had little skill to show for it, but this Queen Nasuada was different. She had the aura and bearing of someone who had not only killed, but also seen war, both the great and the terrible.
For a moment he wondered whether the old legends of Nymeria or Visenya had found their equal.
As the herald began reading aloud his titles, he couldn't help but feel that the world was moving far too rapidly, and that even he would be swept aside by the tides of change.
A/N
I will address some questions quickly
-Feriyen. I too am not a great fan of that, and this will most likely not be where the story is going.
-Zekariah C.L. Shron. I guess you are talking about Jon Snow? It's hard to say honestly, but it is certainly possible. Though I don't think his Targaryen ancestry would help him with an egg from Alagaësia.
-Dragonlord001. I interpret the people from Westeros as being the same race of humans as the ones from Alagaësia, so an egg from Alagaësia should theoretically be able to hatch for the people of Planetos, since the dragon pact would include them aswell.
-SupergodzillaSailorcosmos. Haha. I'm sure Arya is going to demand poor old Ned for the chance to touch an egg when she learns about the dragon order.