A/N: EDIT: By popular demand! I went back and tweaked Oberyn's fate in the first chapter. That's right. HE LIVES!
Also went back and expanded on things.
Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later; I finally got sick this week from overworking myself. Had to rest for two solid days, to the point where I couldn't even function. Sorry for vanishing like that. I wish I could say it won't happen again, but with my jobs pushing me the way they are...
Now that we've gotten that out of the way...lets get back to it.
This may well be bumped up to M in the future.
Still here? Great! If this makes it to 200 by some miracle, I'll update it early as with Demon of Ashford and the like. Time will tell if this remains a proper story.
With my fifteen year anniversary on this site finally here, I find myself reflecting on the little things in life. What was once a lazy pastime meant for me and a few friends really grew and evolved over time. There are days when I look back on the last fifteen years here and I wonder if anyone will remember me; if I made an impact, despite never making a single cent on any of these stories. Some days were happier than others, and some stories I enjoyed writing WAY too much; to the point where I'd stay up all night working on them.
And of course, there are times when I look to the future and wonder what will become of things when I'm gone.
Of course, I try not to dwell on the latter overmuch; I'm older, but I'm still alive and still writing. In an ideal world, I'd like to keep doing so for as long as I can. But old age is catching up to me and these days, the world is filled with so much madness and death. Even before that, so many friends and fellow writers I once knew are gone, now. Will I still be here in twenty years? Ten? Five? Its a chilling thought. But for now, I'm still here, still writing. No questions this time, can't fill the space with clutter.
Now for your questions, comments and concerns. We'll keep it brief. And yes, the update schedule is varied this month. We're switching things up.
Q: Will you fix Dorne as well?
A: I suppose we have a chance to, don't I? Shouldn't be too hard, considering how much of a disaster it was in the show. The book version of Dorne was far better.
The Sand Snakes though...no. Just no. Not giving those three -the show versions!- anymore screentime than necessary.
Q: DANY WHEN!
A: DANY NOW! This is a long chapter, covering lots of ground.
Q: Well, that does it. The Lannisters are boned.
A: ...*zips lips*
Alight, I've kept you long enough.
As ever, I own no quotes, references, quotes, themes or memes!
They're simply tributes to legends far greater than I; an old man who writes as a pastime.
Now, then...Shall we Begin?
"Ah, the proud lion. So strong. So powerful. Always looking to the horizon. To the future.
He never once thinks to look up, to see the Dragon flying overhead.
Nor below...for the Viper lurking in the grass."
~A Prince of Dorne.
Vipers and Dragons
Oberyn awoke with a start.
He almost wished he hadn't; if only because of his head.
Such a headache he had. It felt like a mountain was trying to crush his skull...
.
..
...The Trial By Combat! He'd died. Hadn't he?
He jolted upright with a gasp, swearing like a sailor. Mistakes were made. Many mistakes. And they were his. The very instant he rose his head protested violently; the pain in his skull such that he couldn't think, let alone speak. It was too much movement far too soon. His body buckled, his feet failed him and he crashed down to the floor with a groan. Through bleary eyes he beheld a door on the far side of the room. It swung open on old creaky hinges, allowing him to glimpse a pair of dark boots.
He must've blacked out at at some point; because he awoke to find himself in a bed.
...bed?
He remembered no such bed. This room was drab and dreary and so very dull, not at all what he had grown accustomed to. Everything seemed carved from dark stone, with few comforts beyond the bed in which he found himself. As he lay there, reeling from the pain he began to hear things. Smell things. The crashing of the waves. The salt of the sea. The fading light of day spilled in through the slit of the window, yet he heard no shouts of sailor or anyone outside, which in turn implied an island.
Dragonstone, he realized.
This place could only be Dragonstone.
Why in the seven hells was he on Dragonstone?!
This time he rose more warily, carefully, unwilling to test himself. His forehead ached still but the pain proved bearable provided he didn't move quickly.
"Ach," he muttered under his breath. "It feels like a woman crushed my head between her thighs...
"She must've been quite the woman, then."
The Prince of Dorne rounded on the voice as best he could, given his current condition.
A boy with distinct Targaryen features sat in a chair opposite him on the far side of the room, book in hand. He had the distinctive look of their kind to be sure-yet also that of a Dornishman, for his skin was not quite that ghastly ghostly pallor of those who came before. One eye lay covered by a heavy black eyepatch; while it concealed that which he had he'd lost, it did nothing to hide the scars on his skull. The other eye gleamed a bright violet-blue, the truest of dragons, and it was focused solely upon him.
There was something haunting about that gaze. Almost familiar.
His host smiled at him as he set the book down. "Hello, uncle. So nice to finally meet you. How are you feeling?"
Uncle. Very few people in this world could call Oberyn Martell such, even less of them men.
His throat went dry and his tongue felt heavy in his mouth. "Am I dead?"
"No." the young man shook his head. "But not for lack of trying."
"Who are you?"
"You know who I am." the young man rose from his chair, walked to his bedside, and sat beside him. "I just told you."
Yes, he'd hinted at much. It was also impossible; for it couldn't be. It could not possibly be.
Aegon. The only son of his dear sister Elia. Here. Alive...?
"Prove yourself." he fumbled at the words. "Prove you are who you claim to be."
It sounded foolish even as he said it.
Evidently the boy agreed.
"How can I?" he fixed him with a stern look. "I was just a baby when last we met. I barely remember you. Although," A wistful expression tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I recall mother wouldn't give me to the wet nurse. She shouted and raged when they tried to feed me themselves. You found that funny; she wouldn't let anyone else touch me.
"Yes," Oberyn swallowed thickly. "She had to feed you herself". His eyes stung. "How did you survive?...
He'd never seen the bodies, not even the remains. The Lannisters had not allowed it. Ohhh, the rage he'd felt. The fury.
He wanted to believe that this boy might be his nephew, but how could he be certain? It was the uncertainty that gnawed at him, filling him with doubt.
"I didn't survive. I died." a hand traced his scarred skull and Oberyn found himself wincing at the old wound. A lesser man would've died from such. "They bashed my head against a wall and threw me into a pile of corpses to rot with the rest. I dragged myself back, but there was a price." An unseen weight seemed to settle around his slim shoulders as he palmed his face. "I'm not whole. I spent a lifetime getting here and sometimes...I still hear their voices, their screams in my dreams...
He sounded so broken in that instant that any hesitation Oberyn might've felt melted away.
"There, there, my dear boy." he drew him into his arms and held him tight as family should; held him close, this last living piece of his dear, sweet sister. "It is alright now. None will harm you. Any fool who raises a hand against you will have it cut off at the wrist."
That drew a rusty laugh from Ellia's son. "I can defend myself, you know. Just ask the Mountain."
Oberyn's world narrowed to a single point. "You killed him?"
"He's currently missing both his legs, one arm, and an eye." Aegon leaned back and counted off on one hand, smiling softly. "Death is a mercy. He isn't going to die for a very long time. If you listen closely enough, you can hear him screaming down in the dungeons."
"And you did all this to him by yourself?"
Aegon's grin grew. It was Oberyn's only warning.
A low rumble rattled the room -no, the very keep!- from top to bottom.
Oberyn stilled, baffled by the sudden noise. "What was that?"
His nephew grinned." Would you like to see?"
(.0.0.0.)
See he did.
Oberyn saw the tail first as Aegon guided him down the steps to the beach; a massive jagged thing flecked by sea and salt bearing a great many spikes. His gaze followed that tail, watching it widen until it finally rejoined the great black behemoth of a beast sprawled on the beach. It was sunning itself, rumbling softly as it slumbered.
An honest-to-goodness dragon lay before them, resting on the beaches of Dragonstone. It felt like he'd stepped out of reality and into the age of heroes.
Large did not even begin to describe this gorgeous beast. Nor was it the same as most wyrms. Its possessed four limbs like any proper dragon, yet they were separate from its wingspan; he could see those tucked against broad shoulders, dragging in the sand. This beast could both rend with its mighty claws and fly at the time, breathing fire all the while. This was Balerion reborn. A beast like this could conquer the seven kingdoms. Bathe the world in fire and blood. It would bring darkness and death and despair wherever it went. Such a thought made him shiver.
"He's still growing."
Oberyn made a choked noise and rounded on his nephew for the casual remark. "And how do you know this?"
"I hatched him myself." Aegon chided. "Trust me. I know."
...he did, didn't he? The boy spoke with such surety that he couldn't help but believe him.
Aegon led him closer still, until the beast absolutely dwarfed them. The boy felt no fear; for he ran a hand across the beast's flank. He heard his nephew mutter something in High Valyrian, then with it, a name.
"Ancalagon! Time to wake up, sleepyhead."
And the darkness stirred.
Oberyn was a brave man. He had stared death in the face many a time and each time told it "not today" more than once. But today? Today he felt a bleak touch of fear as the first dragon to return to Westeros shifted with a ponderous rumble, sand sloughing from his body. The beast shook itself and turned, glaring down at them. A hot rush of warm air burst from his nostrils, briefly blasting their hair back.
Such a beast! It could swallow the both of them in a single gulp!
Aegon grinned up at his partner and caught his snout, running one hand under his chin. "Don't worry. He won't hurt you."
Not him, perhaps, but others most certainly. Another, uglier thought occurred to Oberyn, then.
If this beast burned the world, it would burn Dorne as well.
...I must go home." He said. "Will you come with me?"
"I'd rather not." His nephew didn't look too keen on the idea as he stroked his mount. "I'd rather stay here until my aunt crosses the narrow sea."
Daenerys? A pang of confusion ran through Oberyn. "You are certain she will?"
"I've seen it." his nephew nodded. "The dream was clearer than a memory. No one knows I'm here. No one cares about Dragonstone. I'd prefer to keep the secrecy."
"That could change."
The lad caught his hidden meaning. "I don't want the throne. I only want-
"Vengeance, I know." he clasped his shoulder. "For your mother and sister. The iron throne would help you achieve that."
"Ancalagon will help." he bit back. "A chair won't."
"An army will." came the counter. "Or do you intend to raze the entire seven kingdoms alone?"
"Not all the kingdoms." Aegon let Ancalagon go, allowing the dragon to settle back to the sands with a sleepy sigh. "Just the Lannisters."
No, no, no. This would not do. His nephew had a purpose. A destiny. Surely he had not walked through fire and death to just cast his rights aside...? He had a dragon for crying out loud!
"You are the rightful heir." he circled round him, the better to face him fully. "A bastard boy born of incest rules in King's Landing. Without Tywin Lannister he is nothing. And we have a Lannister of our own in the water gardens."
That got his attention. "You do?"
"Cersei's only daughter, Myrcella." he was loathe to give up such information, but he had his eye now. "She is a sweet young thing, engaged to my brother's son."
Confusion warred with disgust on his face. Eventually the latter won out. "Wedding a Lannister to a Martell? What were you thinking?
Oberyn raised a hand to forestall his ire. "It was not my arrangement. Blame the imp...if he lives."
"He does. He escaped across the Narrow Sea before his execution."
Ah. That was good. It would have been a shame had he died.
Aegon blew out an angry breath. "This Myrcella...does she love Trystanne?"
It occurred to him that he might lie, here. His nephew might even thank him for it. But no, they did not hurt little girls in Dorne. "When last I was there."
Aegon made an irritated noise and stormed away down the beach. Oberyn limped after him. The current weakness of his body disgusted him; but he acknowledged how close he'd come to death. It would take the better part of several months before he was fit enough to fight again. Time enough for the coming rebellion, hopefully.
His nephew was wavering. He could sense it.
"No." Aegon shook his head at last, dashing that beautiful hope for the time being. "Daenerys can have her chair. She's earned it. I haven't. I'd be a terrible ruler." he touched one hand to his face, concealing his good eye. "I'm only good for breaking things now."
"So was Maegor and he brought the Faith Militant to heel."
A bark of bitter laughter burst out of the boy. "I very much doubt we'll have to deal with their like anytime soon...
"Even so, my point remains. You need an army, nephew, or all of your vengeance will be for naught."
He could hear Aegon grinding his teeth.
"Meet with my brother." And so he gave him a gentle nudge. "Doran will rally Dorne to your cause. I assure you, he has been waiting for a moment like this for a very long time."
"One day." the boy held up a finger. "I'll go to Dorne for one day. Then I'm coming back."
Success!
He sketched a bow. "As you command, Your Grace."
Aegon thumped him on the back. "And stop calling me that!"
(.0.0.0.)
Doran received few visitors these days.
It was something of a shame, but he understood why, even if he didn't much appreciate. Life was cruel. As were the gods. No one in Dorne wished to look upon a Prince, much less a Prince of Dorne, who could barely leave his chair. The beauty of the water gardens, once something he reveled in as a boy, could only ever be experienced from afar now. Seen but never experienced, heard, yet never truly touched. The gout had nigh but taken his legs already; it was a struggle to walk even with assistance and a cane.
Soon it would become impossible to stand altogether.
One day, he would likely be unable to leave his bed entirely.
Was this his fate? To simply stand -sit!- by and watch Dorne tear itself in two?
For you see, Doran had a plan, a grand scheme, but it all seemed so pointless now. There was no word on the Mother of Dragons. His spies had told him she fled from Meereen in the midst of an ambush, and his hopes of rebellion went with her. His plan required a Targaryen. And she was the last.
Without her, without a symbol to rally behind, Dorne's plans were destined to die a stillbirh.
Ellaria was not helping matters on that front; in part because she was torn as well. Torn between the loss of her lover and her duty to Dorne. He no longer knew what she she wanted, and that worried him. She had not said a word to him -to anyone- since Oberyn's disappearance. She often stood beside him these days, yet said nothing. Where his dear brother, where he had been taken, no one knew. He had been bested in a trial by combat and his wounds were great, but his body had never been recovered. Nor had that of the Mountain, if word was to be believed.
The Lannisters were likely to blame for that -another sin they would pay for in the fullness of time- but he needed a way to move forward and soon, or all was lost.
.
..
...wait.
What was that noise?
He heard something just now; a steady whump-whump-whump like the pounding of distant drums out for blood. Doran sat straighter in his chair, squinting up into the cloud-stricken sky. He saw nothing. And yet the noise only grew louder and louder! Where was it coming from? Below his feet? No, that wouldn't make any sense. His spies had reported no army massing at the gates. So then where-
A roar rattled the world as a winged shadow punched through the clouds to darken the water gardens.
Someone screamed. Doran never knew who.
"DRAGON!"
Nevertheless his old heart nearly stopped at the sight as much as the sound; because in an instant he saw. A great black beast swooped out of the skies. Men and women screamed. The wise ones fled. A great many more stopped and stared as their doom drew near. As he looked on aghast the beast -this dragon!- circled the courtyard once with dark grace then swooped low to land. It did so at speed, uncaring of the hedges it tramped, the people it frightened, nor the walls that crumbled under its talons.
The beast lumbered forward at them with a snarl, baring its fangs at the three of them. The roar that followed proved even louder than the last; nearly deafening all present.
Doran steeled himself. Dorne had never bowed to dragonfire before, but times had changed. And those jaws were large indeed.
Areo Hotah raised his mighty axe, ready to fight to the end even in the face of impossible odds. Doran waved him down.
"Go," he hissed. "Hide Myrcella. Quickly!"
If that was a Targaryen atop that dragon -and he could only assume it was- they would not react kindly to seeing a Lannister here.
But there was no need.
Ellaria shrieked suddenly, a sound equal parts joy and disbelief. At first, Doran didn't understand, but then he did.
Because there, sliding off the dragon's back with liquid ease, as if he' been born there...!
"Ellaria, my dear!" A familiar voice rang out. "Whyever did you cut your hair...?"
"Oberyn!"
It was him; his brother looked tired and pale, haggard in a way he hadn't been before, but this was undoubtedly his kin.
Ellaria evidently agreed; because she launched herself at Oberyn like an arrow loosed from a bow. His brother caught her by the hips, but that sent him stumbling back against the dragon's wing, and there was nowhere left for him to go. Then she was on him, welding her lips to his, kissing him fiercely. The laughter that followed was every bit his brother.
"I told you I wouldn't leave you alone~!"
And there behind him, just now disembarking the dragon -an actual dragon!- who was that?
Doran saw the pale hair and sucked in a sharp breath. Had the Mother of Dragons flown to Westeros already? But no, this was no woman; here stood a young man clad in dark leathers wearing an eyepatch, and no other dragons had yet to materializ. He landed nimbly beside Oberyn, turned just long enough to touch a hand to the dragon's jaws, and whispered something to the beast.
Rusty though his High Valyrian was, the Prince caught one word. "Fly."
It spurred the dragon to move; he shrugged his shoulders as his wings beat down, once, twice, thrice, each kicking up a great shockwave in its wake. With a bounding leap and a pleased cry the terror was airborne once, hurtling away into the clouds. Doran spared a moment of pity for the whales on the coast. He suspected the pods would be running thin after today.
But there were far more important questions afoot. "And who are you...?"
"Beloved brother." Oberyn's smirk was nothing short of smug, his bow even moreso as he somehow managed to do both without releasing a stricken Ellaria. "May I present his grace, Aegon Targaryen, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, Prince of Dragonstone...and Dragonlord.
"Hey!" The boy ruined it by thumping him on the back. "I told you not to call me that!"
"Forgive me, nephew." His brother's smile said otherwise. "I could not resist."
Ellaria perked up. "What did you just say?"
Doran's mind fizzled. "Nephew...?"
Aegon looked to Ellaria, suddenly curious. "Which would make you my...aunt?"
Ellaria's face was a study of contrasts. "You saved my Oberyn?
"Well, it took some doing, but yes-
"You sweet boy!"
His brother's paramour needed no further prodding; she dove on the Targaryen boy in a swirl of silk, kissed his forehead, and hauled him into her arms, babbling happily all the while. For his part, Aegon didn't fight it-he seemed more amused than anything else. He watched the young man close his eye for a moment and lean into her with a content sigh. It was the look of one who had far too few embraces in his lifetime.
Doran tried to speak. He failed.
Aegon did it for him, leaning past Ellaria with a small sad smile. "Nice to finally meet you face to face. You must be Doran."
"I am." He loathed himself for how weak he sounded in this crucial, pivotal moment. "It is...a pleasure to finally meet you in person."
Could this truly be his nephew? He exchanged a long, lingering look with Oberyn and received nod from him. Gods be good, but he wanted to believe. Miracles were in short supply these days. Especially for Dorne.
"And you as well." His good eye flicked down to regard Dorna's useless limbs. "Hmm." he hummed. "Oberyn was right about your legs."
Before Doran could think to ask what he meant this "Aegon" laid a hand on of them; said palm pulsed gold, accompanied by a faint tingling in his limbs. The sensation spread, slowly at first, then with vigor, until he felt his toes begin to twitch. It...was not an unpleasant sensation. As if his feet had simply been asleep all this time, not in pain. As a matter of fact, he didn't feel any pain at all, presently. Would wonders never cease...?
"There." his nephew withdrew just as quickly, wearing a small smile. "That should help ease the gout. You'll be better in a few days."
"What manner of magic is this...?!"
"Sure," Aegon smiled. "Magic. Lets call it that."
A cascade of emotions hit Doran. To have his family reunited and his legs restored in the span of only a few minutes...it was too much. Too sudden. Too fast. He couldn't bring himself to answer beyond a humbled thanks.
"Come," For once Oberyn played the good host and took Aegon by the arm. "There is much to discuss. I will take you to see your cousins in the meantime."
That got Aegon's attention. "I have cousins?"
Oberyn's smile proved wan by comparison. "Indeed you do. Though I will warn you, they are willful girls, you may not like them at first...
Oberyn was right.
He did not.
(.0.0.0.)
It ended with those "cousins" sprawled in the sand like their namesake.
Oberyn had been right. Naruto didn't like them.
He'd tried. He really had. But he couldn't.
Perhaps as "Aegon" he ought to, or should have at least made the effort, but these sand snakes rubbed him the wrong way the moment they met. These young girls. Foolish girls. Arrogant girls. They didn't think much of him. He rectified that. Now they lay sprawled at his feet, licking their wounds after a thorough beating.
He looked away from them and to the sky.
Ancalagon wheeled overhead, never far from him. He could feel the dragon's impatience; it was one he shared. They'd spent too much time here already. Whatever his heritage, he-they!-didn't belong here. This was not his home. Oberyn would speak to Doran about rallying an army, politics, and all of that pish. He would be glad to be rid of this place and go back to Dragonstone.
Rid of this place, and that odd, innocent Lannister girl who kept watching him from the shadows.
He'd been avoiding Myrcella Lannister; if only because he didn't want to vent his wrath on her. Yet still she watched.
No, don't think about that. The youngest of the sand snakes glowered his way from where she lay, earning his attention once more, if only just. "What the hell are you...?"
"Better than you three." he dusted his trousers off with a sigh. "Far better."
They hadn't been able to touch him. Not a once. Not Nymeria with her whip, Obara her spear, nor Tyene with her daggers. And really those names. They Even now they whined and complained, acting as if it weren't fair. Wasn't it? They'd picked this fight.. They could be so much more, so much better than they were, yet they reduced themselves to...this.
Almost sad, really.
"Listen to yourselves; you speak of vengeance, yet you have no idea of what it is. But you will." He flipped Tyene's dagger over in his gloved hand and offered it to her, hilt first. "Stay in Dorne. You are not ready." Tyene tried to attack him of course; anyone would after an insult like that, truth or not. He caught her by the wrist and flung her down, disgusted by her weakness. "Stop that! You are proud daughters of Dorne. Act like it or I swear I'll kill you where you stand."
Nymeria snarled. "This from a coward who refuses to be king!"
A single punch made her eat those arrogant words. Quite literally, in fact.
This again? "I could claim the throne...if I wanted it." Naruto rolled one shoulder in a shrug as she pitched back, clutching her blody nose. "But I won't."
Tyene hissed at him. "It is your birthright."
"So everyone keeps telling me." he looked to the skies and whistled. "I still won't claim it."
Ancalagon heard him and wheeled down towards them.
Obara spat at his feet. "Coward."
A sweep of the legs made her eat that wet sand. The other two didn't dare to get up after that. Were they trying to rile him up? How pathetic. He felt nothing more for these girls, these so-called "cousins" of his. Neither anger nor hate, nor-wait, he told a lie. Pity. Naruto felt pity. He pitied them and their small views, their small world, their inability to see beyond it all. Just pity.
"A wise man knows what he is suited for, and what he is not." he raised a hand when Tyene made to protest. "It doesn't matter. I'm headed back to Dragonstone soon, and you'll never see me again."
"Why go back there?"
Ancalagon crashed down beside him and roared her into silence.
Always with the questions, this one. "To wait for the Queen." he said, climbing onto his back. "Why else would I return?"
She scoffed. "The seven kingdoms have no queen."
He grinned at them. "Not yet. But they will."
(.0.0.0.)
Daenerys heard the dragon before she saw it.
A massive shadow passed over the fleet. A roar rattled the world.
She found herself balked at the extraordinary shape, eyes wide, lips parting. "What...is that?"
Whatever it was, it was flying back to Dragonstone. No, she knew what it was, even as her dragons -her children!- called out greetings of their own.
Dragons had returned to Westeros.
(.0.0.0.)
Something else was waiting for them at Dragonstone.
Someone she did not expect.
She'd seen the dragon outside, the same beast that was even now roosting atop the castle with Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion. She hadn't known what to make of that. The beast hadn't made an aggressive moves towards them and she was likewise loathe to attack something so large in the first place.
It didn't make a lick of sense; Varys and the rest seemed just as surprised to see it. That was her sole solace in the matter.
But what she found within was another matter.
Sprawled in its throne, a young man clad in dark blue leathers and an eyepatch awaited her. He was scribbling in a book of some kind -a journal perhaps?- paying them absolutely no heed. She took in his Valyrian features at a glance and felt her throat close.
No. No, that wasn't possible.
Tyrion coughed. The young man looked up...and smiled.
"Hello, aunt." He snapped the book and looked up at her. "You're late. Still, its so nice to finally meet you. Welcome to my home~!"
She wasn't prepared for him to vault off the throne, walk up to her and...give her a hug? His arms tightened around with such a desperate need that she couldn't help but pity him. His chin came down on her shoulder and she heard him exhale in a long, relieved sigh.
He drew back, holding her shoulders with a smile. "Did you bring your dragons? I hope you brought your dragons...
"And you are...?"
She didn't miss his wince. "You don't know who I am?" Then he recovered. "Well, of course you don't, we never met. Its me! Aegon! Your nephew!"
Daenerys reared back. Mad. That was her first thought of him.
He was absolutely mad...
...or was he?
A/N: Family bonding time next chapter.
Aaaaaand here we go!
Naruto's broken alright, but he realizes he's broken.
You don't want a madman on the throne; and he knows he's become that.
As ever, the Embers rule remains. If people don't like this story? If they don't enjoy it? Well...I'll not continue it. That's no joke, folks. I'm so busy these days with two jobs; basically, I don't have time off. Not anymore. My free time is limited and as such, I can't afford to focus on something folks don't like. Reviews keep me writing in these times, and keep the daily updates flowing. Silence...silence only hurts. I hate having to beg for feedback, but without it...well, it feels like I'm not making an impact.
Hell, it might even be ending soon. That depends on you, the reader.
By all means, speak up! Make yourselves heard!
So in the Immortal Words of Atlas...
...Review...Would You Kindly?
And enjoy the Previews!
As ever:
SPOILERS! SPOILERS! SPOILERS!
PLOT DETAILS AHOY!
YE BE WARNED!
Read at your own risk!
As ever, these are from the far flung future...or are they~?!
(Previews!) AKA Season Seven...
It all made sense.
Dorne had been awfully quick to work with her, though they'd not said why.
She had to think. She had to think fast to make this work, or risk losing all she'd ever achieved. He's older than me, she realized. He was born before I was, by at least a year. Yet he looked so small now. Tired. Downright exhausted, even. She didn't want to use him. He might well be the only kin she had left in this rotten world. And yet she couldn't leave him alone, either.
Daenerys sighed. "...what do you want, exactly?"
The man who may-or-may-not be her nephew granted her a small, sad smile as he watched the dragons dance in the sky. "Is a family so much to ask? Both of us should be dead, yet here we are, alive. Against all odds. If that's not a miracle, I don't know what is. There must be a reason we met here."
...it was a tempting prospect. Having another dragonrider would only strengthen her cause...
Her brow furrowed. "And you don't want the throne?"
He scoffed aloud. "Stupid iron chair, so that's a no."
"Then you wouldn't object to marrying me?"
Bind her claim to his, and him to her.
Aegon blinked. He blinked hard.
...pardon?"
"I wanted to thank you, Tyrion."
"Whatever for?"
Aegon hummed happily. "For not killing your father or your sister. Now I can put both their heads on a spike~!"
Oh, dear. This boded poorly. Daenerys he could counsel restraint towards, but this young man loathed the Lannisters, and he wouldn't be happy until well...heads, walls, spikes. Tyrion wasn't so cavalier. He didn't want to see his family destroyed, any more than they already were. "I can't help but notice you failed to mention Jamie...
"Why should I kill him? He killed Dany's father, not mine. Aerys was mad. Your kingslayer brother hasn't done anything to me...yet.
Tyrion prayed he wouldn't.
Jon winced. "You're insane, aren't you?"
"I am." Aegon-Naruto!-granted him a small a little. "But I'm sane enough to admit it."
"That doesn't make any sense.
"Trying having your skull smashed in as a babe, dying, and coming back. See if things make sense then."
"I have!"
"Someone smashed in your skull as a baby?"
No...but I suffered something similar not long ago."
...you're telling the truth, aren't you?"
"We can hold them off-
The world shattered with a roar.
Two black dragons swooped low behind a horde of screaming Dothraki.
Jamie had an instant to feel confusion. Two black dragons? Why were there two?
They were being ridden, each of them. For a moment, he could've sworn he heard a word shouted on the wind.
"Dracarys!"
The world erupted into fire. Men died in droves.
A shadow fell over them.
Seven hells.
Not hells. Bronn muttered. Hell. There's a special place for a beast like that and it ain't wth any of the bloody seven.
A man dropped from the beast's back. There was something about him; something different. Something worse. If Daenerys was the mother of dragons then this was the father of death and despair. And yet he looked just like Rhaegar, sans the eyepatch. And in a moment he knew. The forgotten son.
"Hello, Kingslayer." A hand clasped his shoulder.
I wish you good fortune in the war to come. You'll need it.
You want a wight, send a dragon over the bloody wall and grab one. None of this stupid horse piss.
Someone knocked on the door.
It was her.
R&R~!