Castle Black/Beyond the Wall 1 AC.
Martyn Rivers.
His first flight on a dragon's back was both terrifying and exhilarating. Although Prince Aemon took it easy on him and didn't have Rhaegal fly too high or too fast. The prince made sure he was well protected from the cold too, both while in the air and especially when they landed. Yet still Martyn shivered and almost slept atop the fire when they took their rest. Though of a morn, he'd find himself next to Rhaegal's green scales and with Prince Aemon's cloak covering him.
Seeing the North for the first time was an experience he relished. Yet compared to actually seeing the Wall, it may as well have been just another stroll in the park. The giant structure loomed so very large over everything else even when they were still many miles away from it. Once they eventually reached it, Martyn was both surprised and happy to find they'd be staying the night at Castle Black. The prince was apparently eager to speak to the Lord Commander and to find out what supplies the Night's Watch was most in need of. While Aemon took the chance to get warmer clothing for Martyn from the black brothers while they were there too.
They sat and ate their evening meal with the men of the Night's Watch, Prince Aemon joining in with their songs and drinking their ale as if he was one of them and not a prince of the realm. Martyn spoke to as many of them as he could and asked them about what it was he might see once they traveled to the other side of the Wall. He even found himself almost doubled over in laughter on the day they departed. The Lord Commander once again taking the opportunity to warn the prince off and speak much on the dangers Beyond the Wall. For his part, the prince finally took the opportunity to allow the Night's Watch their first true look at Rhaegal.
"I feel we're well covered for any danger that may come our way, Lord Commander." Prince Aemon said and the look on the Lord Commander's face, as well as the faces of the black brothers, was enough to bring about Martyn's mirth.
Then, almost as quickly as they had landed, they took to the sky once more. The Wall and Castle Black were soon far behind them and Martyn now found himself in lands filled with Wildlings. Had he been atop a horse traveling with Prince Aemon, then he'd have been terrified of where they were traveling to. Even were it at the head of the army that the Prince, Princess, King, and Queen had commanded, Martyn would have been incredibly fearful. Atop Rhaegal's back, his only nerves were because of the flight itself and even they had lessened over time. As, thanks to the furs he now wore, had any chill he may feel in these lands.
When they first landed it was just before night fell and Martyn finally stepped foot in the lands Beyond the Wall. He listened keenly as Prince Aemon told him to not travel any distance from where he set up the fire. Much welcomed the warm rabbit broth that Aemon made for their dinner and found himself enraptured once again by the tales Aemon told of the Wildlings and their customs. However, he did wonder just how and where the prince had learned so much about a people that few truly knew much of.
"They are just people like you and me, Martyn. Their wants, needs, what they seek from life, all of it is much the same as our own."
"But they're Wildlings, my prince."
"A name that means nothing." Prince Aemon shrugged. "No different than Riverlanders or Northmen, Valemen or Dornishmen. You'll find no more truth in naming them Wildlings as you would in naming a Dornishman untrustworthy or a Reachman grasping."
"But they are, my prince," he said, laughing a little when the prince chuckled at his jape.
"Aye, they are. But not all or even most of them. Just enough so we name them so. Here in these lands, you at times need to be savage to survive. To be hard and ruthless just as the lands themselves are. Yet, it makes you no less a father, a mother, sister, brother, daughter, or son, does it?"
Martyn listened to the words and nodded his head, he'd not heard them put in such a way before and they made some sense to him.
"My Goodbrother and Goodsister rule over seven disparate kingdoms, Martyn. Lands that are as different from each other as they are the same. People with, on the face of it at least, little in common. Or would you say your people and those of the North were the same?"
He shook his head as he pictured the Northmen he'd met and how different he'd found them compared to the men of the Riverlands that he'd grown up with. Yet, he'd found them honest and true too, and as he looked at his prince, who was watching him intently, Martyn began to see what lesson it was that Aemon was trying to impart.
"Here we'll meet good and true men and women, Martyn. We'll meet those you think savage and strange. Women who are as fierce on the battlefield as any man you know and with luck, we'll even meet giants too." Aemon chuckled.
"There are no such things as giants, my prince." Martyn laughed shaking his head only for Aemon to get a more serious look on his face.
"Speak those words to me again once we leave, Martyn. Though I'll name you a liar if you do. Now go get some rest, We've got a long flight ahead of us on the morrow and we'll both need to be alert while on it and when we land."
Once again he fell asleep next to the fire and once again he woke up next to Rhaegal's scales. This time their breaking of their fast was joined by Ghost who had been let run free the day before. The white wolf seemed to have adapted to the lands Beyond the Wall as if he'd known them all his life. Which in a way the prince seemed to do as well.
After eating and then sparring so as to loosen themselves up, which Martyn found almost impossible to do given the furs he now wore, they prayed at a nearby Weirwood and continued their journey further north. At one point during the day, they flew over what seemed to be a large settlement of people. Though it was hard to judge given how high they were flying. Martyn even managed to doze off for a few moments, so accustomed was he becoming to traveling atop a dragon.
When they landed it was in the middle of a large encampment the likes of which he'd never imagined, let alone seen. There were beasts that dwarfed every animal he'd ever know of, barring Rhaegal. Dwellings and tents that seemed massive and must have been homes to hundreds of people and yet there was not one man or woman in sight. It was creepy, eyrie and Martyn only managed to climb down off Rhaegal's back because his prince and Ghost did so first.
"My prince I….we shouldn't be here."
"Be at peace, Martyn." Prince Aemon replied, his sword still sheathed and his face impassive and unworried.
What language Prince Aemon called out in, Martyn knew not. Nor did he expect a loud guttural voice to answer Aemon back. Martyn simply stood and held his hand on his sword's hilt while his prince seemed to have a conversation with the very wind itself. Sentence after sentence was spoken. Words were exchanged between Aemon and some unseen presence before the very ground itself began to shake and tremble.
"Be at peace, Martyn," Aemon said once again when Martyn went to unsheathe his sword.
He saw them then. Thrice as tall as any man and twice as broad. Covered in fur and with faces that seemed battered and bruised, Martyn stared up at them with both wonder and fear in his eyes. Turning his head to look at his prince, he saw a small smile on Aemon's face, while Ghost simply lay in the snow unbothered. Around them, hundreds of living breathing giants came out from wherever they'd been hiding. All of them looking to the prince with curious and yet fearful looks. None however seemed angered or ready to attack and as Aemon began to speak again, Martyn finally relaxed. One lone thought went through his head as the conversations took place around him.
'Where did Aemon learn how to speak Giant'
Hardhome 1 AC.
Brandon Snow.
Traveling with the Thenns was much different from doing so with only the Children of the Forest, or Myrny and her people for company. For one thing, Brandon had quickly found himself engaging in conversations only in the Old Tongue with warriors, Spearwives, and the Magnar himself. His men had even begun learning how to speak it themselves, thanks both to the Children and to Valrine. While Brandon's own conversations with the Magnar's daughter were ones he much looked forward to of an evening.
He'd learned more from his talks with her than he had with the Three-Eyed-Raven, Myrny, or with any of the Children. Had come to see her and her people as no different than his own, other than in how tough their lives were that was. Something that if things worked out as Aemon planned, he'd play a part in making easier. Brandon had even come to admire those he traveled with, a little at least. To understand them somewhat. Which was more than could be said for those they met during those travels.
Aemon had told him that he'd need to fight to prove himself and so far on this journey he'd fought more times than he cared to remember. At each settlement they reached he'd be challenged, provoked. and finally, be made to face off against the leader of that settlement or chieftain of that clan. Fights that thus far he'd won without the need to take a life. Though only the Old Gods knew how that was.
The strangest thing of all, however, was that according to Valrine, there shouldn't have been so many people on their path. Certainly not some of them at least. The Men of the Frozen Shore and the Nightrunners having traveled so far from their usual grounds according to both Valrine and her father. While the Children of the Forest had just looked at them knowingly without speaking as to why they were there.
"I understand these lands not, but you say we should not have seen these clans at all? Not sight nor sound of them?" he asked as he and Valrine sat and talked at their evening meal.
"The Men of the Frozen Shore live far to the north. Rarely do they leave their fishing grounds."
"And the others?"
"The Nightrunners travel 'tis true, yet never this far south."
"What could make them leave their lands?"
"Lack of food, supplies…..you."
Brandon shook those thoughts from his mind as they finally reached Hardhome. The settlement seeming to be as abandoned as both Myrny and Valrine had said it would be. He'd heard them name it a cursed place and yet as he took his first steps in what had once been a large village, Brandon could understand not why they named it so. For even a token glance at the place was enough to show its potential.
There was a large bay that could easily be turned into a dock for ships to sail to and from. Good clean waters that he'd wager were full of fish. A decent stream that led to a large enough lake, iced over though it was, which would provide fresh drinking water. Yet it was the wood and stone that most interested Brandon and his men. For rarely if ever had he seen such a ready supply of the materials needed to build a keep and dwellings. All of that before he even looked at the caves that surrounded the village itself.
"How good is that stone?" he asked, holding a piece as large as his head in his hands.
"As good as any from the mountains." Rickard Flint answered.
"And the wood?"
"Almost as good as Ironwood." both Cregan and Martyn replied.
"And thrice as plentiful," Morgan added, a large smile on his face as he did so.
"We need to scout those caves, and the village itself. See if there are any dwellings still habitable."
Just as he was about to go and explore the caves, the Children moved to join him. Brandon nodding as they made it clear that he'd not be going alone. To his surprise, and much to his delight, Valrine then took a step forward and moved to his side. Myrny then joining her but a moment later.
His scouting party had grown to almost twenty by the time Brandon reached the first of the caves. Morgan, Gareth, and Rickard were all now carrying makeshift torches as one or the other of them stepped in front of him and Brandon unsheathed his sword just in case. Not a single one of the Children seemed worried or concerned by what they may find lurking in the caves, however. In this, they were proved far more right than Joralaf and some of the other clan leaders. Brandon had by now heard Valrine's father naming him a fool and saying that the caves were even more cursed than the lands themselves were as he'd made his way toward them.
Cursed they may be, but there was naught inside them to inflict that curse upon them. Each of them was as empty as the other. Apart from three of them having large warm pools and springs. Brandon caught Valrine moving her hand in the warm water of one, her eyes focussed on his own as she did so and it sent a thrill right through him to see her look at him that way. He wondered if she like he now was, was picturing them together bathing in those warm springs. Or was she imagining them doing something other than washing themselves in one.
"We could stay here should the weather turn." Rickard Flint said to a shake of Valrine's head.
"If the Old Gods are truly with us, we won't need to," Brandon answered, welcoming the smile that Valrine then aimed his way.
With the caves explored, Brandon then looked to how defensible Hardhome could be made to be. Happy to see that other than from the mountains above, there were only two ways in and out of the settlement. Or three if you included the sea. Large gates, wooden walls, with some watchtowers atop the mountains, and Hardhome would be safer than most keeps in the North. Given just how much stone was readily available, safer still. It would take time, great effort, and much dedication, but he could see the beginnings of a good future here.
Be it good fortune or more evidence that the gods favored them in their endeavors, they soon found some dwellings that offered good cover from the elements. Within a week, his men along with the Thenns had begun to gather stone and wood and were well on their way to repairing the others. The fishing they'd found was even better than Brandon had hoped it would be. There seemed too to be an abundance of game which made the hunting most successful. More and more Brandon had become certain that here, and only here, was where the Free Folk would thrive. In time, he believed that a city that rivaled White Harbor could actually rise up from the ruins around him.
Images of a large keep, stone houses, thriving docks, and even a standing army would come to mind when he took to his bed at night. Very quickly those images would be forced away by one of a woman with golden blonde hair and eyes that looked only his way. During the day, Brandon would find himself almost seeking Valrine out. His eyes would often find hers looking his way almost each and every time he did so. So when she made her way to his room and past his guards. When he woke up to find her undressing and moving to his bed. He was unsurprised.
"I've come to steal you, Brandon Snow," she said huskily. Her clothing long since abandoned and her body now revealed to him in all its naked glory.
"Aye, I reckon I'll let you too," he replied, welcoming the warm smile and even more so the knowledge of what being stolen meant.
He put up no fight, even though it was the Free Folk way. Instead, Brandon simply accepted his fate and the warmth that Valrine's touch brought to him.
Hardhome 1 AC.
Myrny.
The changes that had been made to Hardhome since their arrival less than a week earlier, were nothing short of incredible. Homes had been repaired, enough so that few of their number still slept in tents. Walls had been rebuilt to offer security and protection from both the elements and from any who'd wish them harm. A makeshift dock had been built which allowed for small boats to row out to sea and catch more than enough fish to keep their bellies full.
Yet it was not the practical changes that Myrny felt the most. Instead, it was those that she and others seemed to be experiencing. Her dreams had become a regular occurrence. Dreams of the White Wolf, the Old God's own guardian sent to watch over them all. Of the Green Dragon, a symbol of another god's powers and magic, yet one that too would help keep them safe. Finally, those of the man who both seemed to answer to, the Wolf who was a Dragon too. A prince who was promised and who Myrny somehow knew was fulfilling that promise far earlier than he was ever meant to do.
As for the other gifts that her people and some of those from the Thenns, Nightrunners, Men of the Frozen Shore, and even the Cave Dwellers who'd arrived but a day or so earlier, they were far more practical. Warging was well known and well spoken of in the lands Beyond the Wall, yet few it seemed had ever truly mastered it. Now they very much were as those who had a familiar already had found their connection to be far stronger than it had ever been before. While those who'd not yet realized they were Wargs, very much did now. Children especially.
"Their third eye?" Brandon Snow asked when Myrny explained to him what seemed to be occurring.
"We all have one," she replied. "Some never see theirs opened, while others only barely manage to do so."
"Wargs, Greenseers, Why?"
"To help us build for the future."
Myrny believed her words to be true and she was most grateful for the help of the Children of the Forest in seeing that future realized. Each of them took the chance to not only help guide the youngest of those whose third eye had opened but in spending time with others to show them how best to use their gifts as well. Her own gift she tried and failed to control, however, and not even the Children were able to help her do so. At least not in deed.
"Ní miste dúinn tú a mhúineadh." (It is not for us to teach you)
"Nach bhfuil sé?" (It is not?)
"Osclóidh an Prionsa do shúil go hiomlán, ní féidir leis ach é sin a dhéanamh." (The Prince will open your eye fully, only he can do so).
"Cathain?" (When?)
"Nuair a ardaíonn an Ghealach agus tá sé solas ar a iomláine." (When the moon rises and its light is at its fullest.)
It both excited her and terrified her at the same time. The idea that what she saw in her dreams was both real and yet not the complete picture of things. Or that the shadows that she sensed there would soon be revealed to her in all their glory or their horror. Just the thought of it was enough to rob her of her tongue and to allow her to miss certain things. Which was why she knew not that Brandon Snow had been stolen until days after Valrine had done so.
Not that Myrny was unhappy to find out that it had been done. A match between the brother of the Stark in Winterfell and the daughter of the Magnar of the Thenns could only serve them all well. Especially one where the two people involved seemed so well suited to each other. Still, it showed just how out of sorts she was and made her resolve to at least try to pay attention to the things around her. Something that became much harder as her dreams grew strange.
Armies marched as in the sky large beasts fought against each other. Brother against brother, sister against sister. Kin slain and not even the children were saved from the knife's cruel kiss. A woman bathed in fire as she cried out for her children. A man with one eye laughed cruelly as he flew atop a beast and waited for his prey.
Arrows covered the sky as beneath them two young boys met their end. A father's tears soon being replaced by his lifeblood as he joined his sons in death. A woman with mismatched eyes weeping as she watched her brothers fight. While a man with red ones plotted against those he named as kin.
A mistaken token of affection setting into motion the events which brought the realm to war once more. Love true as it was not enough to stave off death when it came ready to call. Two men fighting in the shallows of a river. One fell as he called out a woman's name before breathing his last.
Children were murdered in the most cruel of ways, while their mother was violated by a monster of a man. A babe cried out as his mother breathed her last. Born amongst blood and smoke, while a star bled red.
Creatures of death and destruction swarming over lands near and far. Ice and blood their only gift to those they met as they continued their march.
A light that shined as bright as the sun wielded in the hands of a prince who had known far too much pain and sadness. His sacrifice never ending as he fought for the living and sought to bring the dawn.
Myrny woke from her dream and had she tears to shed, she would have. Yet they refused to come and so instead she simply rose from her bed and moved to the cool water she kept in her jug. She felt it as she drank it down, a vision far different from the dreams she had just had and one she was unprepared for. Dropping the mug on the ground, Myrny fell to her knees and let the images wash over her.
A city stood where before there had been naught but ruins. A people united and far better armed and armored than they had any right to be. On the mountaintop above them, the white wolf stood and watched over them all. While in the bay ships readied to carry them far from the lands they named as their home.
Wolves who'd been separated from their pack were now reunited. Lands that had once been denied were now opened freely. Islands welcomed them, housed them, and fed them. Men armed them, and a massive green beast flew ever watchfully overhead.
He stood unafraid and inviolate. Surrounded by men from every land in the realm. His armor was black and the sword he unsheathed bore a wolf's head as its pommel. Kneeling down and taking some snow in his hands which he brushed against his tired and weathered face. Rising to his feet, he held the sword aloft and the light that shone from it was blinding. Pointing it forward he bid those with him to march and not a single one of them faltered in doing so.
Men, beasts, giants, Myrny saw them all before she found herself standing face-to-face with the man who led them. His dark hair was tied back behind his head and the scar he bore on his face could only have come from the claws of an eagle, or so she believed. Grey eyes so dark that they could almost be named indigo looked back at her. A smile that warmed her heart and chased away any fear and doubt soon appeared on his face.
"I am finally who I was always meant to be. My mother and father's son, the prince that was promised to them both." the man said and his voice was like the sweetest melody that Myrny had ever heard.
Opening her eyes, Myrny rose to her feet, and had she a looking glass or even known what such a thing was, she'd have caught sight of the smile she wore on her face as she did so. It was a smile she wore for much that day. One made only truer when the morning came and she found herself looking to the sky above.
She was not alone in doing so. The Children of the Forest had joined her the moment she took up her vigil. Each of the Wargs had then made their way to stand next to them before too long. All in all more than fifty of them stood silently and looked to the sky. While in lands far to the North, East, and West of them, others did so too. The Sleepers had been awakened and were soon to be put to their task. A prince was coming to save them all.
The Lands Beyond the Wall 1 AC.
Aemon.
They had been the first to be killed according to Mance. The Giants were all but extinct by the time Aemon had reached his accord with the Free Folk. He'd simply not known about the true war until it had already begun and they, amongst others, had paid the cost of that. Less than fifty had made it south of the Wall and of those, only Mag the Mighty and Wun Wun were accomplished warriors.
Looking at them now, he could see that they were once a mighty clan before the Night King had looked their way. More than a thousand of them now lived and in time those numbers would only increase. His offer was not just accepted but welcomed, and their march to Hardhome was ready to begin before he had climbed upon Rhaegal's back once more. The words he shared with the Clan Leader were ones that Aemon would live or die by.
"Cuirim síocháin ar bhur muintir. An seans a bheith rathúil. Síocháin go dtí go dtiocfaidh an t-am le haghaidh cogaidh. Lig sé a bheith ach ansin tá a fhios againn aon rud eile." (I offer your people peace. The chance to thrive. Peace until the time comes for war. Let it be only then we know naught else.) he said, hoping his words would be listened to.
"Do dhaoine bréag. Briseann siad a bhfocal. Cén fáth ar chóir dom a chreideann tú difriúil?" (You people lie. Break your word. Why should I believe you different?) Murag Mur Dar asked, his eyes showing that he trusted Aemon not. Though he did fear Rhaegal which for now was enough.
"Tá a fhios agam cad a dhéanann fanacht sa dorchadas. An namhaid fíor a thiocfaidh lá amháin dúinn go léir. Ní féidir liom féin a stopadh. Ná ag mo mhuintir. Ach amháin ag gach duine." (I know what lays in wait in the darkness. The true enemy that will one day come for us all. He cannot be stopped by me alone. Nor by my people. Only by all people.)
"Agus do mhuintir? Beidh siad a shealbhú le do focal?" (And your people? They will hold to your word?)
"Síocháin nó bás, ní thugaim aon rogha eile dóibh. Tairgim an rud céanna duit. Cé gur lámha oighir agus ní mo chuid féin a thabharfaidh bás duit féin agus do do mhuintir. Síocháin nó Bás, ní bhaineann aon tairiscint eile níos mó." (Peace or death, I give them no other choice. I offer the same to you. Though it'll be hands of ice and not mine own that will bring death to you and your people. Peace or Death, no other offer matters more.)
"Bíodh Síocháin ann." (Let there be peace.) Murag declared.
Leaving them behind, Aemon bid Rhaegal to fly further north before then heading for Hardhome. He was sorely tempted to travel right into the heart of where he believed the Night King made his home. Yet something told him that to do so would be to undo whatever good he'd done since arriving on Dragonstone. The Night King slumbered, or so the voice inside him suggested. It was for the best that he was left that way, for now at least. So instead, Aemon looked for and found more and more of the Free Folk clans. Finding much to his surprise that the vast majority of them seemed to be on the move. Their destination the same as his own.
Some were not and only that he'd learned much from Tormund, Mance, Val, and so many others, or he'd have bid Rhaegal land and done his best to encourage them to do so. The Ice River Clans, however, were not people he could truly treat with. Their customs and practices would not be accepted south of the Wall and would only lead to more problems than their numbers were worth. So they'd be left to whatever fate the gods had in store for them. A harsh decision to be sure, but if Aemon had learned one thing from his many failures, then it was that sometimes such decisions needed to be made.
In times of war, you had to look at your forces as pieces on the board. Just like in cyvasse, at times you needed to sacrifice a piece here or there. To lose a battle in order to win the war. Aemon had learned that lesson far too late and it was not one he'd truly had time to put into practice. While he hoped that he'd never need to. Or that those who followed him would be left in such a strong position that it would never need to be even considered. He'd make sure that the board he set up this time was one that made a victory all but assured. Even if it cost some their lives before then to see it was so.
"My Prince," Martyn called out from behind him and Aemon nodded. He bid Rhaegal land and then watched as the green dragon flew off to feed his hunger.
He'd been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he'd not noticed that night had fallen and had Martyn not reminded him, then Rhaegal would have flown through the night. It was not the first time that they'd done such a thing. Aemon remembering the many nights after he'd lost his family where he and Rhaegal would keep to the air. Lost in his memories of Margaery, Rhaenys, and Rhaegar, and happy to be so.
Shaking his head clear of that and other thoughts, Aemon moved to set up the fire and nodded to Ghost to see to their food. The White Wolf soon returning from his hunt with three small hares, one for each of them. With no water source nearby, they melted ice over the fire and drank it down while it was still warm. Then while Martyn took to his bed, Aemon sat and took watch until Rhaegal returned. He moved Martyn to where the green dragon rested and covered him with his cloak before moving to sit alone by the fire once more.
This time his thoughts were much more pleasant. A small smile quickly came to his face as he pictured his wife and what he hoped would be a swift return to her side. When he did finally drift off to sleep it was to dreams of Visenya and their babe that he found his slumber. Martyn woke him the next morning and Aemon found himself in a far better mood than he'd been the night before. They broke their fast together. Sparred with each other. Then, once again, it was onto Rhaegal's back and the continuation of their flight south. Hardhome finally came into sight by mid-afternoon and Aemon bid Rhaegal to let everyone there know of their arrival. The loud roar rang out not in warning but in what Aemon would name as hopeful optimism.
Volantis 1 AC.
Melisandre.
She'd been in Meereen when she'd felt the call. A deep need bidding her return to the Temple of the Lord of Light. The task she'd been given had suddenly felt so unimportant that Melisandre was forced to seek answers in the flames. Then she'd acted without hesitation on what she'd found when she looked deep into the fires. Her god's will be done and R'hllor willed her to return to Volantis. For what or why, Melisandre cared not.
'No that's a lie, I care much' she thought to herself as the ship cut through the calm sea.
Try as best as she could, Melisandre could not convert any of the Great Masters. Her words had fallen on deaf ears which was just as she'd predicted. She'd told Margaus that men who cared only for the pleasures that life afforded them would care not for a god's favor. That those men believed themselves to be gods almost as it was and there was little in truth that you could offer such a man that he couldn't take for himself. Yet, her words had not been listened to.
Instead, she'd been sent and had found Meereen to be nothing but a city of those who have and those who have not. A city of great wealth and true poverty. Where men dined on elaborate feasts and children fed on scraps from their tables. So little did her presence affect those she'd been sent to convert, that Melisandre had started to become somewhat despondent. She felt not her god's favor in her endeavor and welcomed not the darkness that the lack of his light would bring to her heart.
Now, she very much felt that light. It burned inside her and allowed her to see that Volantis would not be her last stop on her new journey. Far-off lands called for her and Melisandre felt a shiver run down her spine because she knew that she was always destined to set foot in those lands. Although it was supposed to be many years in the future that she did so.
"And death awaits me there," she whispered as she took to her bed.
The journey to Volantis passed much more quickly than it should have. They'd found calm seas and fair winds and yet it was the excitement that Melisandre felt that truly made it so. Guards awaited her at the docks and she noticed how they, and others, looked at her as she disembarked. Melisandre once again feeling her god's favor as she walked through the streets and made her way to the temple.
Laren and her sister, Laros, both stood on the steps and welcomed her back to the fold. The two women then accompanied her as she was led to the High Priest's chambers. Melisandre answered their questions as best she could and was stunned to find that they'd soon be setting sail for Meereen to continue her work there. Both women's eagerness belying the fact that they'd find their time there to be just as wasteful as Melisandre's had been.
"He awaits you inside," Laren said, and then both women were gone before Melisandre could answer.
Not bothering to knock on the large wooden doors, Melisandre pushed one open and entered. The chambers themselves were brightly lit. Each of the sconces was alight and all the torches burned. While in the middle of the room, standing over the large bowl and looking directly at her was Margaus himself. Taller than her by a head and a half, the man's age was a mystery to any but himself and their god. The High Priest had dark black hair that fell down past his shoulders and bright blue eyes that could stare into your very soul and yet neither was his most distinctive feature. Standing there bathed in the light, he cut an imposing figure, while his burned and scarred face which was now illuminated by the light of the nearby candles, made it at times a terrifying one.
"Our god has work for you, Melisandre of Asshai. Truer work than that which I tasked you with." Margaus said, his voice was scratchy and throaty and his words took much effort to speak.
"I am R'hllor's servant in all I do, High Priest."
"Indeed," Margaus said, those blue eyes staring at her with a look she knew not how to name. "Come, the flames await," he added a moment later, his eyes now even far more alight.
With a wave of his hands, the flame now burned in the bowl. Both his and her own attention now firmly on whatever it was their god wished them to see. Melisandre later found out that she saw far more than Margaus did. Once the vision had dissipated, the flames then burned themselves out. Around the room, each of the candles and torches then doing likewise. A sense of foreboding came over her as she stood there in the darkness and heard the voice in her head.
"The night is dark and full of terrors."
Three days later she was a passenger on yet another ship. This one heading to Westeros and leading her to carry out her god's will. What she'd find there, she knew not. Or to be more accurate, knew little of. A prince, a princess, and a path to an uncertain future. The truth of her god's divinity and her part in R'hllor's plan. Mayhap the truth about her place in the world and a chance to see his light shining down on those who knew not how much they needed it.
Melisandre knew she'd see dragons in the flesh. Both those that flew through the sky and were R'hllor's greatest gift to the world and those that lived and breathed, and who too would play a part in what was to come. She knew too that she'd see a white wolf. That she'd meet a man who'd change her reason for being. A man with answers to questions she'd long wished to ask and others that she'd just begun to.
Was the babe the prince that was promised? The man?
Was his chosen really amongst them already? And if so did that mean that the Great Other was among them too?
Would she find a home far from her own? A place to name her own and a comfort that thus far only being in R'hllor's light had afforded her.
Was her death to now happen sooner than she'd believed it to be?
Was time really a river? And if so could anyone ever sail it or were they all just driftwood being left in its wake?
There were so many questions and the answers to some, if not all of them, lay in Westeros. Maidenpool and then Harrenhal. A babe to see birthed and a prince to question. As she lay her head down to sleep, Melisandre for once heard no other voice but R'hllor's. She heard no other name but her own. The name given to her by a god and not the one given to her by men who peddled flesh. Closing her eyes, Melisandre spoke softly, her words going unheard by anyone other than herself and her god.
"I am Melisandre of Asshai, Melony 'Lot Seven' is no more."
Hardhome 1 AC.
Valrine.
He was everything she'd ever wanted in a man. Brave, strong, and passionate. She believed him to be loyal and true too. Given what he'd done since she'd met him, Valrine believed there was no man whose destiny was bigger than Brandon Snow's. Right up until she saw the incredible beast soaring in the sky above them, she believed that. Then when that beast landed and a boy, a wolf, and then a man climbed off its back, Valrine began to doubt she had the right of things.
Still, while around them her people cowered and readied their arms, Brandon stood unworried. As people hid, he strode forward unafraid. Valrine tried calling out to him not to do so, yet her words refused to come. So when he and the man who'd climbed down off the mighty beast's back shook hands and embraced as if they were brothers, Valrine was not the only one who was greatly relieved.
As the Children moved to the enormous white wolf, Valrine rushed to where Brandon and the stranger stood. Noticing just how young the boy with him was and how similar in looks the man and Brandon were. She was almost certain they were kin by the time she reached them. Happy to see that her initial impressions were right and that Brandon and the stranger were as friendly with each other as it seemed. Behind her, the Children of the Forest stood and spoke to the white wolf. While in front of her, the young boy held his hand on his sword, his eyes darting from side to side as he looked for threats that she knew would not present themselves.
"Valrine. My Kinsman, Prince Aemon Targaryen." Brandon said when he noticed her there. "Aemon, this is Valrine of the Thenns."
For some reason, her name seemed to mean something to the man Brandon had named as his kin. The prince taking a moment to offer her even a smile let alone a greeting. When he did offer her both, Valrine was only ever more convinced that he was who Brandon had named him. That he, along with the Three-Eyed-Raven was the reason why they now resided at Hardhome and her people faced a much better future than they may have once done.
"'Tis an honor to meet you, Valrine," Aemon said. His smile was so much like Brandon's that it brought her own to her face.
"You too, Aemon," she replied. Not naming him as a prince which for some reason it appeared he enjoyed.
Movement from behind him soon caught her eye and Valrine got her first true look at the beast that Aemon had flown here on. Its massive body dwarfed everything around it and the teeth in its mouth were as large as Brandon's sword. Aemon noticed where she was looking and turned his head to speak in some language she knew not. The mighty beast then took to the sky far too quickly and easily for something that large.
"Rhaegal will seek his food, mayhap 'tis for the best if I seek mine own," Aemon said and Valrine called out for bread and salt to be brought forward and guest right to be extended.
A nod of Aemon's head was enough to get the young lad, Martyn she'd heard the prince name him, to take a piece of both the offered gifts. Aemon then took his own before giving some to that white wolf of his. With his other beast no longer in sight, it allowed Valrine to truly take in the magnificence of the white wolf. As large as a horse and she'd wager thrice as deadly as any man, its red eyes and white fur marked it out as having the Old God's favor.
"Ghost to me," Aemon ordered and then Valrine, Brandon, Aemon, Martyn, and the white wolf moved to walk to the largest of the buildings in Hardhome. The prince looking around at each of the other buildings and at her people as he did so.
Valrine listened as he asked Brandon what clans were here. Aemon seeming to be surprised and yet not that there were so many. She heard him speak of the Ice River Clans and was stunned that he seemed to know so much about them and her people. Though compared to hearing him speak about the giants she was very much not.
"The dragon, Aemon?" Brandon asked as they entered the large hall that served as their meeting place.
"Rhaegal will eat and then return before nightfall. Hopefully, by then I'll have spoken enough so that people fear him not."
"I doubt there are enough words in the world to speak," she muttered, Aemon chuckling as he nodded his head.
"Aye, you may have the right of it, Valrine," Aemon said, looking at the large hall and those already assembled there before continuing. "Though mayhap I'll settle for them to know that both Rhaegal and I are not here to pose a threat to the Free Folk. Far more the opposite if anything."
Just as with Brandon, when Aemon spoke he did so in a way that made her wish to believe the words were true. Unlike Brandon, however, right from the start, Aemon seemed far more comfortable around her people. He seemed to know them. To understand them. Almost as if he'd spent time amongst them and as they moved through the large hall and made their way to where Brandon had his solar, Valrine wondered if that was true.
Once they reached the solar, they were joined by her father, Myrny, and some of the Children. With a nod from Brandon, all of them including the white wolf entered the far too small room, and after a quick look around the prince began to speak.
"Martyn, take Ghost outside to the Children. Stay and watch over him, I'll join you presently."
"At once, my prince." the young lad answered, a small bow of his head before he, the white wolf, and two of the Children left, leaving only Nut to stand as their representative.
Other than her father who looked at Aemon with suspicion, it was Myrny who seemed to be paying the prince the most attention. The woman stood with a look on her face that it took Valrine some time to name. A look of almost recognition that was tinged with eagerness to hear whatever Aemon said. It allowed for that to be all that Valrine cared about too. To hear whatever it was that Aemon spoke on. Little knowing just how much that would truly change her people's fate.
"I've spoken to the giants, they make for Hardhome as we speak," Aemon said, Valrine translating his words for her father once he'd done so. "They are not alone in doing so."
"Giants, Aemon?" Brandon asked disbelievingly. He'd not thus far believed her when she told him that they existed and made their homes somewhere far in the north.
"Aye. Their entire clan, Brandon. They seek naught but peace and safety and you can offer it to them. As you can to the others who wish for it to be all they know."
"They'll accept my word?"
"And name you their king," Aemon said and even Valrine gasped upon hearing him say that.
"I've no wish to be a king, Aemon. Nor to usurp my brother's rule." Brandon said angrily.
"The King Beyond the Wall, Brandon," Aemon said, Valrine smiling as did her father and Myrny. "He's the only man the Free Folk will follow and even then they'll not kneel."
Valrine looked at Aemon as he spoke. His words proved that he did indeed know much about her people. While Brandon may think that he could simply be a chieftain. That her people and the other clans Beyond the Wall may name him so and accept his brother's rule as he did. She knew they very much would not. They'd need a king to speak for them. Something which Aemon seemed to understand and more importantly, was offering them.
"When you treat with your brother. With my Goodbrother, Goodsister, wife, or myself. As you speak to the men of Skagos and those of Skane. To the Lord of White Harbor and whomever else needs to be treated with. You must do so with the authority that leading the Free Folk deserves. Your voice must be their voice, Brandon. And the only way their voice will be a single one is when it's spoken by a king." Aemon said, Valrine hurriedly translating the words for her father as he did so.
"I seek no crown, Aemon." Brandon sighed.
"The best men often don't," Aemon replied. "When you sign your accord with me, with your brother, it must be as a king, Brandon. In the years to come, your line must rule and that starts here and it starts now."
"Why?" Myrny asked, shocking Valrine that she would question the prince given how she looked at him.
"One day a great war will be fought. With luck, it won't be for many years to come, but come it will." Aemon said as he rubbed his hand through his dark hair. "It will take all of us to win that war. Men and women from Beyond the Wall, those of the North and South. Every single one of the dragons."
'More, there were more of those mighty beasts.' her thought going somewhat unrealized for now as Aemon continued to speak.
"What we do in life, echoes in eternity. Or at least that is the hope I find myself waking with each and every day." Aemon looked at each of them and when Valrine spoke his words, her father nodded as did Myrny and Valrine herself. "Eternity starts for you all, today."
Later that day, Valrine looked on as Aemon spoke privately with her father. Once again proving he knew much about their people as when she spoke to her father about it, he simply said that Aemon knew the Old Tongue and had been touched by the Old Gods themselves.
That night they ate, made merry, and Aemon spoke with each man or woman who sought to do so. He sang songs that even Brandon knew not the words to. Drank their drink as if it was nectar from the gods and other than refusing to allow himself to be stolen when he made his way to his bed, he earned true favor with her people by the time the dragon returned.
He earned a little more with her when, at her behest, he allowed her to see the dragon up close for true. Its sheer size and the danger it would pose to any who dared to pull on its tail finally revealed to her. Valrine listened as Aemon spoke to the dragon as if it were a babe or true friend. The love and respect in those words were only matched by those he then spoke to the white wolf a few moments later.
"They are mighty beasts you have, Aemon," she said when she spied Brandon moving to join them.
"They are far more than that, Valrine. Ghost, and Rhaegal, are my truest friends. My lealest protectors. Without them and my wife, I'm but a man lost to time."
He was married. It explained why he'd been so reluctant to even entertain the prospect of being stolen. Why he'd shut down any who'd even dared to suggest such a thing. Looking at Brandon as he neared them, Valrine almost missed how Aemon looked at her. However, she noticed the small smile on his face when he turned to welcome Brandon to their side.
Some few words were shared between Brandon and his kinsman. Aemon simply telling him that he'd leave by week's end and that there was much to do before then. Leaving them standing there alone, Aemon and Ghost walked and took their places beside Rhaegal. The three of them were planning to sleep out in the open it seemed. Valrine turned to Brandon and though she wished to ask questions about Aemon and wanted to try and understand the man more, the look on his face was enough to change her mind on both.
"Come, we should make for our beds, Brandon."
"Aye, you have the right of it as always." Brandon smiled.
Sisterton 1 AC.
Marla Sunderland.
Marla had named what Steffon suggested as the folly it truly was. She had no desire to be queen and certainly no wish to name herself as one. By now, not even Sharra Arryn could dream of wearing such a crown. So while she held no love for the House of the Falcon, she knew to go against them or the dragons would lead to their and her own doom. Not that Steffon would listen to sense on the matter. Which was why she was presently sitting at the High Table while men feasted and readied to name her their queen.
It was why almost sixty ships were docked and ready to be filled with the men who'd take Gulltown. Why, her brother had decided that they needed to gather every piece of gold and precious metal they had in their treasury so that a crown could be made to sit atop her head. More than any of this, however, it was why at night when she took to her bed, Marla dreamed of fire and blood.
Looking out at the men in the Great Hall, Marla could only think what a waste of food and drink it was to have them all here. The Borrels had been happy to have this feast in House Sunderland's keep rather than their own. Lord Godric was far too keen to keep his winter's supplies to himself rather than waste them on such a foolish endeavor. As for the Lords Longthorpe and Torrent, Rolf and Boros welcomed any excuse to drink and make merry. Both men no doubt thinking of the plunder they'd take once Gulltown fell.
Picking up her glass, Marla was happy to taste the sweetness of the wine inside. She tried to allow it to dull her senses. To make her not ponder on the stupidity that she was soon to be a party to. Drinking it down, she cursed the Targaryens and their dragons for destroying the Arryn fleet. Marla knowing full well that without it, the Arryn's and the Vale itself were in a precarious position. Though, unlike her fool of a brother, she understood that precariousness related only to an attack by sea.
"My Lords, My Lords," Steffon shouted over the noise in the Great Hall. Marla felt her chest begin to thump as her heart raced.
She knew what was coming next. That a crown would soon be forced upon her regardless of her own wishes. A war would soon be fought that she believed they had little to no chance of winning. While the portents in her dreams promised her naught but suffering and pain to come. Be that as it may, she sat silently and readied for her brother to do his worst. All the while cursing Steffon that he didn't have the courage to name himself king if that was his desire.
Her brother never got to utter his words, however. The sound of what at first she believed to be thunder stopped him from doing so. Hearing the sound once again, Marla felt a shiver run down her spine. For she was sure now it was the green monster from her dreams that she'd just heard and not the thunder god's fury.
Loud cries of "To arms" rang out and then there was naught but stunned silence as the dragon was finally spotted. Cries of "He's heading for the ships" followed by "Is the keep safe" then resounded around the great hall. Her brother looked to her with fear and worry in his eyes and Marla wished so very much to say that she'd told him so. To grab him by his shoulders and shake the sense into him that thus far she'd failed to do. Instead, she simply rose to her feet and awaited whatever fate the gods had in store for her.
No attack came. Not to them nor to their ships. The dragon simply flew over the docks, roared, loosed flames into the sky, and then came back to their keep. It then landed somewhere outside Sisterton itself. While inside the town and her family's keep, people prepared for the worst. When the raven came, it was Marla rather than Steffon that the Maester handed it to. Her brother had earlier made the mistake of telling Larris that by the end of the feast, Marla would be their queen.
"From the Dragon, your grace," Larris said as he handed her the raven's scroll, the Targaryen sigil as clear as day as its seal.
Marla opened it without correcting the Maester about his presumptions. She found that she wished to read it before handing it off to her brother and was glad for the opportunity to do so.
Lady Marla,
My name is Prince Aemon Targaryen and I demand the presence of you, your brother, and those who name you as their lieges at a parley. You have but one hour to comply. Failure to do so will reap naught but a dragon's flames and I promise that I will leave Sisterton and the Three Sisters in ruins before the night is done.
Prince Aemon Targaryen,
Master of Whisperers to their Graces,
King Aegon and Queen Rhaenys Targaryen.
It wasn't a shiver that ran down her spine then. Marla was not alone in having heard much of Prince Aemon Targaryen. He'd been most responsible for the burning of the Arryn Fleet. Had seen House Gardener were now naught but names consigned to history. There had even been talk that he'd single-handedly brought Dorne to its knees. Yet despite all of that, it was the fact that the dragon he rode upon had green scales and had plagued her dreams for weeks that Marla concentrated on.
When she handed Steffon the raven's scroll, he at first wished to refuse to attend the parley. Within a moment, Marla had dissuaded him of that foolish idea. So less than an hour later, Marla, Steffon, Godric, Rolf, and Boros, all the heads of the Three Sisters, rode out under guard to treat with a dragon-riding prince. By then, Marla had heard some of the plans that had been made and discarded.
An archer hiding amongst them who'd take down the prince. Guards to ride and ride hard and cut Prince Aemon don't where he stood. All of them were plans of fools, not men, and ones that would only lead to their doom. The only one that would not, was the one that placed her at the center of everything. That one named her as the architect of her brother's folly. A woman who desired a crown and cared not what she had to do to fulfill that goal. A scapegoat to be sacrificed by overly ambitious men.
'Yet it would save our people. It would see my nephews live to see another day. My life for theirs. A price I'm willing to pay twice over.'
Resigned to her fate, Marla caught her first sight of Prince Aemon Targaryen. He stood next to a wolf that was almost the size of a horse. A wolf that was dwarfed by the monstrous green dragon that reared its head behind the prince as they neared him. To the left of the prince stood a young lad. One of no more than six and ten Namedays, Marla would wager.
'A squire mayhaps'
Dismounting from their horses, Marla heard the prince tell the guards to keep to their mounts lest the green dragon saw them as threats. Not a single man among them arguing with him over this point. She, Steffon, and the other lords moved closer, while the young lad stepped back as the prince and the white wolf moved to greet them.
"Prince Aemon," Marla said as warmly as she could. Her fate was all but decided and all she could hope was that her death would be quick and with as little pain as could be managed. To antagonize the man in front of her would be to see that was very much not the end she'd know.
"My Lady." Prince Aemon said, just as warmly. "My Lords," he added a moment later, far less so.
"I understand this not, my prince. What brings you to our fair and peaceful lands?" her brother asked and Marla could have rolled her eyes. Which Prince Aemon actually did.
"I have little time for games, Lord Sunderland. Little patience for such. I wish not to be here and blame you all for the fact I am. So let's not dally or speak untruths here this day. You'll find I'm well aware of all your silly plots."
"Plots, my prince. We would never…"
The green dragon roared loudly and Marla felt the vibration run right through her. Godric's sentence went unfinished and when she looked at Prince Aemon, she felt her end was near.
"I said I have little patience, Lord Borrel. Do not test its limits again." Aemon said. His voice commanding and enough to stop any further questioning, for now at least. "Rhaegal and I are well rested." Aemon began. "Well ready to do whatever it is we must. Be that to simply reach an accord or to turn these islands and their people to dust."
Marla found herself torn between looking into Prince Aemon's dark grey eyes to see the fire that burned there, or to the dragon's bronze ones. In the end, the eyes of the man winning out over those of the dragon. Though later Marla would ponder that they were much the same.
"Your foolish plan to name your sister as queen ends here and now." Aemon declared. Marla was stunned as much as Steffon was that he knew the truth and not the lie that her brother and the other lords wished him and others to believe.
"I…"
"Speak not again until I give you leave to do so, Lord Sunderland," Aemon ordered and her brother shut his mouth and uttered not a single sound. "Know simply that I am well aware of what you plotted and what you now wish to name as true. I know it and I am repulsed by it. Angered by it. A man who refuses to take responsibility for his actions is no man at all. And a brother who would see his sister pay for his crimes is no better than a Kinslayer in mine eyes."
Marla couldn't believe what she was hearing. Forgoing, for now, the questions she had about how the prince knew what he knew, she found herself wondering just what he intended to do with that information. Something she, her brother, and the others were about to find out.
"You will all stand down and cease your fool plans to attack Gulltown. Each of you will kneel and name my Goodbrother and Goodsister as your king and queen and Lord Arryn as your liege lord, am I understood?"
"I….yes, my prince." Steffon stuttered.
"Lord Sunderland, your two youngest sons are to be fostered far from these islands. As is one of your own, Lords Borrel, Longthorpe, and Torrent. As for you Lady Marla…"
Marla shook the worries for her nephews from her mind for a moment. Her own fate trumped theirs for now at least.
"You will join me on my return to Harrenhal. Once there you will serve my good lady wife as one of her ladies in waiting. All other matters relating to your future will be left for Princess Visenya to decide."
"I…Am I to be a hostage, my prince?"
"Some may name it as such. Yet unlike your nephews or the Lords' Borrel, Longthorpe, and Torrent's sons, you won't be held responsible for the future behavior of your kin."
"I thank you, my prince," she said, half speaking truly as she was still unaware of just exactly what her fate was to be.
"We leave within the hour, my lady. I would bid you to travel light and arrangements will then be made for your personal effects to be collected and brought to you. As it will for the hostages to be taken to their new homes."
The prince looked to each of the lords, to her brother, and finally to herself. None of them had a word to say about what had just happened and yet it seemed there was something else on the prince's mind. Marla took a moment to realize what that was and then was the first to drop to a knee and declare herself a loyal and true subject of the crown and her liege lord. Her brother and the others did the same but a moment later and then after Aemon accepted their oaths he bid them to rise.
"Oaths once sworn are sacred to me. Any man or woman who breaks them will find I'm not a forgiving man." Aemon said looking at each of them. "Be loyal and true and when next we meet it may be for a more pleasant reason. Break your oaths and you'll find that my wrath and rage are the last things you wish me to unleash upon you. Ships burn, my lords. Keeps and men too. I may take no pleasure in being the tool of destruction I must be, but in seeing oath breakers get their just desserts, that I very much do."
They rode back to the keep, Marla listening as her brother and the other lords briefly spoke about a chance of rebelling, only for Aemon's words to come back to them and quickly rule that out. Once they arrived, she quickly made for her chambers and gathered up as many dresses and changes of clothing as she could carry in a small trunk. She then took the few items that she truly cared for and before the hour was done, Marla was riding back to where Prince Aemon and the dragon awaited.
To her surprise, he seemed almost a different man. Friendly, and helpful, he even asked whether or not she was sure she had enough of her things before telling her that coin would be provided to her to buy more. Listening to him speak, Marla could only hope that what he said was true and that it wasn't actually a hostage she was to be.
"I seek not to punish those who deserve it not, my lady." Prince Aemon said as he helped her up onto the dragon's back.
"I…."
"Had no wish to be queen and yet would have worn the crown regardless."
Marla nodded and wondered again how he knew what he knew. Was there a spy in their midst? Had her brother spoken too loudly of his plans and the news made its way to Prince Aemon's ears?
"In time we'll find you a good and true match, my lady. Until then, we welcome you to our household and extend you every courtesy that your station demands."
"Why?" she asked, as she sat behind the prince, the young lad, Martyn sitting behind her as she spoke.
"Because far too often brothers decide their sister's fate. Rarely do they do so with her best interests in mind."
"And you wish to do so with me?" she asked in disbelief.
"I was tasked with changing fates, my lady. Your's as much as anyone else's."
It was the last word the prince spoke before the dragon took to the sky. Marla then found herself to be enraptured by the sight of the lands beneath them. Sooner than she could ever imagine possible, they were landing once more. This time at a keep that was almost as big as Sweetsister itself. They were greeted by a silver dragon. Both it and the green one then took to the sky as soon as she, Martyn, the white wolf, and the prince had dismounted.
A few moments later, they were met by a smiling silver-haired woman who could only be Princess Visenya. Both she and Prince Aemon engaged in a most passionate kiss and Marla found herself looking forward to getting to know them both. To the life that she feared had reached its end and to the days that she'd know now because it had not. Her fate was ever-changing and would mayhap be a far better one than the one she had feared it was to be.
A/N: Thanks to all who've read and reviewed. Up Next, Aemon and Visenya spend some quality time together while Marla Sunderland is integrated into their household. Melisandre arrives and Harrenhal to a conversation that completely changes her worldview. The Riverlords are feasted and word is sent to the North regarding Brandon, the Free Folk, and the fosterings that Aemon has arranged. While in the Citadel plotters make a plan to deal with their fiercest enemy unaware that their every move is being watched.
For those following my other fics, Live as a Wolf is up next, two chapters to tie the story up and give it an ending I hope is fitting. After that, It'll be a double chapter of My Honor Goes So High followed by the same for My Name is Daemon.
Rhatch: So very glad you liked it.
MalSer: Hope you liked this one just as much, we'll be seeing a little more of Brandon and the Free Folk in a couple of chapters.
Celexys: Thanks so much for saying so, my friend.
Scarlia: That means a lot to me, thank you so much. I'm feeling much better now and most of the things that were keeping me from writing, now seem to be resolved or are in the process of being so.
Lazymanjones: So glad you enjoyed it.
Orthankg: I sort of started that way, wrote down a few small ideas, a couple of scenes or moments that I thought would be fun to see. From there it wasn't a huge leap to starting a fic and even though I had no clue what I was doing, I got some great advice from people who read it. If that's not for you, maybe you should reach out to someone who is writing and see if you could help them with ideas, and plot points, Simply talking through different aspects of a fic can be so helpful for someone writing one. As for your idea, I think I actually have the fic in mind where it will work and so, hopefully, you'll see it incorporated very soon. I will credit you when I do so.
Irish Hermit: Brandon is almost as big a catalyst for change as Aemon is. His actions will probably have the biggest long-term effect other than dragons. You're right about the Faith, but unlike the Maesters, they'd bide their time and wait for a sign of weakness I believe. There is a reason they didn't start pushing back until Aegon was dead. As f for Hardhome, in time it'll rival White Harbor in terms of trade, and other bigger cities in terms of population if all goes well.
Guest: So the Sleepers are wargs, greenseers, and in time other magic users. People who both know the truth about the war to come and who are able to help greatly in the preparation of that war. Not confined to those Beyond the Wall either. The White Walkers remain unaware, for now. Aemon did consider a pre-emptive attack on them but wisely decided against it. You're spot on about how Kings behave, but the bonds of kinship do play their part too. There is a reason why it has to be Brandon and his line, and over time we'll see more and more why that is. We'll actually be seeing something on the Doctrine in the chapter after next, a reason why it will need to be reinforced and like the Pact, why it will be expanded upon.
So I can't spoil too much about what we'll see regarding those left behind when Aemon jumps, I'm still a little undecided on it, so I may simply do a sort of epilogue chapter where it ties that up. Basically, there would be spoilery things in seeing them after the jump and one of the key things with what comes next is that as Aemon learns so too will we, so it may just be the emotional aspect of his leaving that I'll show, the immediate aftermath rather than any long term effects from it. Simply because I want to show those effects more in the stories to come and reveal them as Aemon finds them out.
Xan Merrick: Thank you, my friend.
Creativo: Es un poco de ambas cosas, pero no puedo decir más que eso por ahora.
King Mern: So happy you liked it.
Amaranthya: Honor so High should be updated with a double chapter in the first week of September, all going well.