A/N: We've hit 600 hundred reviews! 0_0
You all know what that means~! Early update it is, folks!
Looking forward to reading your feedback and chatting with you once I get back from work~!
As promised, we're getting a more focused chapter this time. Can't just bounce from battle to battle now, can we?
Should this chapter get a ton of feedback -here's hoping-by some miracle, I'll update early again. Review threshold doesn't seem possible sometimes; but I'm willing to try. Lack of feedback is a painful thing indeed. On another note, this WILL be bumped up to M in the future. After all, its Game of Thrones. You've been warned~!
Claws of a Lion is still being worked on, already amassed several thousand words for that one. Progress is being made~!
In other news depression's starting to hit real hard these days. Sometimes I wonder why I do anything at all. I can't claim to understand what's going wrong with my head. I don't even know why! One moment I'm fine, then my mood craters for a few hours, then I'm back again for a bit, and the cycle repeats. Its rather annoying; as though I've become a prisoner in my own mind sometimes. Sure, what's one more mental problem on the pile. Not like I don't have enough, what with already being this old. Feels like every day is a battle sometimes. My doctor is of no help at all.
Take a walk he says, go outside more he says, you'll be fine he says. *siiiigh* Don't bloody feel fine. Maybe I should see someone else...
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 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. Feels like everyone's lost their minds, the world over. 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.
Not Q&A for a bit, as someone complained. Ah, well. Can't please everyone I suppose. Trying my best to keep everyone entertained here.
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 Continue? Verbatim for season seven here.
Also a callback here to one of Dany's old outfits.
You all know the one.
"There is...something you should know. I cannot have children."
"Who decided that? Some dusty old witch you burned?"
You decide such things. Not her."
~A future scene.
Kings and Queens
Victory was sweet.
A new Valyrian Steel Sword made that victory all the sweeter.
The spoils of war and the loot that came with it were perhaps the sweetest yet.
Naruto sat on his bed, drew Widow's Wail -ugly name, he'd need another- from its sheathe and laid it across his knees. Good balance, perfect weight. He could expect no less. It almost seemed to shimmer in the light of the late afternoon under his eyes, calling unto him, whispering soft secrets in his ear that only he could hear.
Use me, it seemed to say. Let me drink the blood of your enemies and I shall serve you well.
Maybe that was the madness talking.
...probably was. Better watch that.
He stood and gave the sword a lazy swing, listening to the steel sing as the weapon danced in his hands. It had seen little use under its last two masters. According to Tyrion, Joffrey had hardly swung the damn thing, and Jaime barely more than that. The third time was, as they say, the charm. He wouldn't be letting this blade go, and it would likely be drenched in blood by the time the war was done.
Moving from one stance to the other, he ranged about the room, reveling in his new prize with each swing.
He and Daenerys -alongside the officers- had been given the finest quarters in Highgarden, courtesy of Olenna herself. She certainly had no desire to use them. The rest of the army was billeted outside the castle; giving the troops and poor Drogon some much needed time to recover. He'd thought about healing Dany's dragon himself if only to speed things along, but stopped himself.
It wasn't greed that stayed his hand but rather simple pragmatism.
Things promised to be busy soon. Very busy indeed.
This might be the last chance they had to rest for quite some time. He'd already discreetly dipped into the camp last night and healed those most in danger; if he went about healing everyone in sight it would become expected of him; they would all come to him with the slightest cut and bruise or worse, maybe even missing limbs. He would have no peace.
The army could live with their cuts and bruises.
Was it selfish of him?
Maybe.
He loved the thrill of battle as much as any man, but he enjoyed the peaceful moments, too. And it was peace they had-for the time being. The Lannisters and the traitorous Tarlys had been routed on the Blackwater Rush, utterly crushed. Those who had fled could; they would trickle back to King's Landing piecemeal and eventually the Mad Queen would learn of her failure. It was tempting-oh so tempting-to press the attack, to simply fly to King's Landing with Daenerys and BURN it into submission, but he knew better.
The world would not tolerate a second Aerys. It would be difficult enough convincing them to accept his daughter, let alone if she burned their capital.
That was where he came in. Let him be the frightening one, the enforcer. If it fell to him to be the iron fist and Daenerys the velvet glove...well, he was fine with that. Let her be the carrot and he the stick. He didn't mind being feared. Fear was an old friend. He'd learned to live with it once before, and he would do so again. He'd close his ears to what fools thought of him. He knew what he was. He was mad, yes, but he was not a monster. Dany knew that and so did he.
He would show them. He'd show them all.
Someone knocked softly on the door.
He looked up, sword in hand.
"Enter."
His guest swept it open slowly.
Daenerys stared back at him from the threshold. "...may I come in?"
Naruto blinked for a moment, startled by what she was wearing. She looked lovely...
.
..
...quite lovely indeed.
Gone was the dour dark garment she'd worn during the battle; in its place she'd changed into something altogether brighter, likely due to Highgarden's climate. It was some strange sleeveless blue wrap of a dress made of both cloth and leather, one clung to her body, emphasizing her curves while offering a window of sorts slightly the chest above the chest. With her hair down she looked almost relaxed. Dare he say content? He found his curiosity aroused...among other things.
"Wherever did you get that...?"
"This?" she granted him a coy smile as she stepped into the room slowly, hips swaying. "I once wore this on the road to Meereen. Those were simpler times." Her eyes seemed to stare past him for a moment, doubtlessly reliving some distant memory only she was privy to. "Everything seemed so much easier then. "she performed a little twirl and he glimpsed her exposed shoulders in passing as she spun back to face him. "Do you like it?"
Very much. Very, very much. He wanted to peel her out of that dress, slam her against the nearest wall and-
"Ahem."
He coughed into a fist, sheathed Widow's Wail, took a moment to master himself and nodded slowly, trying to stomp down the desire she'd sparked in him. "Blue suits you. You should wear it more often."
"Is that so?" something sparked in her gaze. "And what of you?" Her gaze raked him up and down, admiring him his new attire. ""You seem rather proud of yourself."
A curious choice of words.
Was he?
Naruto -Aegon!- took a moment to consider himself in the mirror as he considered his black-and-red double with matching trousers, washed hair, and freshly shaven face. When paired with his eyepatch and Widow's Wail, he looked downright roguish. But her words haunted him. Was he proud of their accomplishments?
Yes, he decided. Yes, he was.
Together they had routed an army, won a decisive victory, and increased their forces, all in one feel swoop.
Cersei would never get the resources of Highgarden now. That was sure to make her furious. She would have to look elsewhere for wealth...and food for her precious city. Where would she even find it? He didn't envy her the task. Better yet, the next warden of the south would owe quite a bit to the the Targaryens. Without them, Highgarden would've been sacked, its harvest and riches picked clean. From here, they had a path to both Casterly Rock and King's Landing. Once they fortified Higharden they could make inroads toward both. He would wait to see what their next move was.
Dany's gaze strayed to Widow's Wail, silent in its sheathe, and drew his eye in turn. "You took that off the Kingslayer, didn't you?"
"I did." She didn't ask if he'd left Jaime alive, and so didn't say otherwise.
No point in sowing discord where none was to be had, you know?
"I heard he had a Valyrian Steel Sword." she stepped to him and he caught the faint scent of perfume. "May I?"
He offered her the sheathed sword with both palms and let her have a look at it. The Mother of Dragons struggled with it for only a moment, then drew the blade a bit, exposing an inch of flawless steel. She considered her reflection within the gleaming metal for a long moment, shook her head, then sheathed it with an effort.
"I've decided to take up a sword myself." she handed it back to him. "I was vulnerable there at the end of the battle. I never wish to feel that way again."
His brow furrowed, turning her statement over in his mind. Was she asking what she thought he was asking...?
Alas, his tongue betrayed him as surely as his eagerness. "I could teach you a few things."
"Hmm." her gaze went half-lidded, eyeing him intently. "I believe you could."
Their eyes met. Something sparked between them again.
She stepped a little closer and he found himself reaching for her, drawing her into his arms. One hand settled about her waist, the other still clutching his sword. Then she kissed him and Widow's Wail was forgotten, cast aside upon a nearby table now as her mouth strove against his. His blood burned and his palms settled against her hips as she tilted her head, seeking a better angle. When she bit his lip in passing he laughed and held her closer, fingers dancing about her waist. Her hands weren't idle either; she reached up, cupping his face the better to hold him fast.
Her feet glided backwards to the bed and he followed, letting her tug him along.
She struck the mattress first, then it creaked under his weight as he joined her. Passion had him and he only had eyes for her. Gods, he wanted to take her now. Tear off that blue dress, lift her leg and have his way with her. She was already reaching for his doublet as their lips tangled, threading her hands beneath the dark fabric to caress his ribs. Off it came, exposing his chest to her and-
"Wait." something came over her and she stilled suddenly, planting a hand on his bare chest. "Wait."
A lesser man wouldn't have. He heaved a sigh, but complied. "What's wrong?"
"There's something you should know...
Naruto waited patiently.
Whatever it was, she lost the courage to say it; he saw the courage flee from her eyes.
He had an inkling why, a vague suspicion, something that had been hinted at just before their departure-
"So." Daenerys tumbled off him apropos of nothing, cheeks still flushed with passion as she spoke. "Casterly Rock."
He had the distinct feeling she was both dodging the subject and sounding him out for advice. "What of it?"
"Tyrion wants to take it with the Unsullied. I would have your thoughts on the matter."
Well that certainly cleared up things now, didn't it?
She was after his advice alright.
He rolled his good eye. "Tyrion's an idiot where his family is concerned. Or willfully blind," he amended at her sour expression. Taking and holding it has no real strategic value for us; we'd have to divert some of our army to keep it, and doing so only serves to make the Lannisters look bad."
"But they already do, don't they?" Dany said the words aloud even as she realized them. "We beat them bloody on the Blackwater Rush."
"Indeed we did. Its the dawn of a new age. Speaking of new, I've been thinking of renaming this thing." he considered his sword anew, still on the table. "Widow's Wail is an ugly name. I don't like it; its unworthy of such a beautiful blade."
Dany arched a brow at him. "Should I be jealous?"
"Not at all. You're far prettier." he took her jest for what it was and kissed her cheek. "Any ideas for names?
She wrinkled her nose at him. "Blackfyre would be in poor taste, I'd say."
It did. He wracked his mind for a name, considering.
One came to him out of the blue.
"Wind Weaver."
Danerys made a pleased noise. "A fine name."
It certainly was. Rolled right off the tongue. Wind Weaver it was.
Only then did he noticed her pensive expression, the way she squirmed under his gaze. "Something's bothering you."
"Drogon's been restless." she stood, paced past him and looked to the window. "Its his wound. He's not been able to fly since he took that scorpion bolt to the shoulder. I'm afraid he may need more time to recover."
Pity stirred within him as he tugged his doublet back on. Was it really worth leaving the poor boy to suffer just so they could have some time to themselves?
He already knew the answer. No. No, it was not.
"I can take a look at it, if you like...
She frowned at him. "What can you possibly do that hasn't already been done?
He winked at her, utterly without fear.
"More than you think."
(.0.0.0.)
Daenerys brought him out to the fields in short order.
Ancalagon wheeled overhead as soldiers drilled with their weapons below, soaring through the sky with lazy grace.
But not Drogon.
Her child watched mournfully as his cousin soar through the clouds, making not a sound. He didn't have to. She could feel his pain from here. His sadness. His sorrow. His anger. He was hurt and he did not understand why he couldn't fly. None dared come this close to him when he was in such a mood. That was a bit of a blessing in disguise, she supposed. They need not fear spies or wagging tongues here and could thus speak unimpeded in relative peace.
It also meant few could get near her deary boy without being eaten alive.
He'd even been snappish towards her as of late.
Aegon approached Drogon at a lazy gait, careful not to make any sudden moves, with her only a step behind.
In the end he needn't have bothered; the black dragon knew him by scent now and trilled softly, letting him approach. Her intended muttered something in High Valyrian and Drogon crouched down in response, presenting him with the ugly wound on his shoulder. Daenerys found herself at something of a loss. What did he intend to do? Use a poultice or somesuch? She didn't see any supplies on his personage so-
Aegon laid a marked palm on Drogon's wound and closed his eyes.
The black dragon hissed angrily at him for it, a warbling cry of purest pain.
"I know, I know," he crooned back. "This'll sting a little, but you'll be right as rain in no time."
"How do you intend to help him?"
He didn't look back at her. "Watch and learn.
She felt it then, something in the air, a rising energy she could scarcely understand.
As she looked on aghast, that great gaping hole in her child's shoulder began to knit itself shut; once mangled flesh mending with alarming speed. Sweat beaded down Aegon's brow as he worked. He said not a word. Drogon didn't move, not an inch. He understood what was happening, her clever boy, and made no effort to dislodge her intended. Her fiance began to mutter things under his breath, speaking a language she didn't recognize. Whatever it was, the words had power. Drogon's wound closed quickly, flesh filling as the flow of blood slowed to a trickle, a drop, then not at all.
...there!" Aegon staggered back, looking haggard. "That should do it...
Drogon trilled once, beat his wings to test them, and found them satisfactory. And then:
"Hey!" Her nephew gasped out a startled laugh as he suddenly found himself cradling the delighted dragon's snout against his chest. "Alright, alright! No licking! Off you go, now! Fly!
His thanks gladly given, Drogon threw his head back with a pleased cry. The roar that rattled the world was a joyous one indeed; a few sharp beats of his wings put him to right and he was aloft, soaring upward to join Ancalagon. His cousin cried out a greeting and soon enough they were chasing one another through the air once more.
All this, in the span of a few minutes.
Daenerys watched it all, somewhat thunderstruck by what she'd just seen. What sorcery was this. Had the stars truly aligned for her? Was her foul luck finally beginning to turn for the better? She had only ever loved two men before him. Drogo had died, and Daario she'd left behind. Aegon was neither of them and it showed. Despite his madness he'd shown himself to have a sharp tactical mind, he fought hard, and her children liked him. And now he'd revealed himself to be a healer atop all that?
That settled it. She was keeping him. But first she had to know.
"Are you a sorceror of some sort?"
...not quite." He quirked a bemused pale brow at her, perhaps sensing some unspoken question in her mind. "What I use isn't magic, not as you know it, but it does the trick in a pinch. Was there something you'd like to ask me?" he looked out to the army. "Did you want me to heal the wounded?" Now there was a thought, one that found itself summarily slaughtered as his gaze flitted back to her. "I could heal you too, if you like."
Her eyes widened a little. Did he know-no, he couldn't. It just wasn't possible. "I have no need of such."
"Yes, you do."
She lifted her chin, pride rising within. "I do not."
"Yes, you do." he repeated with all the patience of the ocean. "I can tell when someone's injured. Yours is an old one, badly healed, but it can still be mended."
He didn't say anything more. He didn't have to. Bastard. Shame pooled in her gut, dark and ugly, a wound left too long to fester. Now she must tell him if only to preserve her own honor.
Her anger didn't let her yield so easily. "You don't understand...!"
Aegon tilted his head. "I'd be happy to if you'd let me."
...I can't have children."
He blinked at that, eyes widening a little as he realized what she meant. There, she'd said it and set herself free. She waited for the shock and pity to become anger; waited for the outrage, for the claims that she'd tricked him, that he wanted nothing to do with her.
They never came.
Instead, he granted her a long, grave look. "Who was it that did this to you?"
She bit her lip. "A witch...and my naivete.
His brow furrowed. "I'm sensing a story here.
There is.
He saw the pain her gaze. "You don't have to tell me."
No, she didn't. But she wanted to. She had suffered terribly, but so had he. In that way, they were alike. And so she told him. Told him a tale she'd never dared breathe to another on this side of the Narrow Sea. Jorah alone knew it, having lived it with her, but he was far from here, in search of a cue to his wretched Greyscale. He wasn't here to advise her.
She must make her own judgement.
So she told all and held nothing back. Haltingly at first, recalling bittersweet memories. How naive she had been back then. How pure. How...foolish. How said foolishness had cost her more than she'd ever dared to dream and helped shape her from the foolish girl to whom she was now.
"And there you have it." she finished her tale of woe with a sigh. "I paid the price for my foolishness. Its just not possible."
"May I?"
Aegon remained undaunted and held out a hand just shy of her stomach. He did not touch, not without her permission, despite having returned her kiss prior. She nearly scoffed, but reconsidered at the last. What was the harm? She had nothing to lose and everything to gain. At worse, she would be disappointed. And something in her yearned for success.
"This is an old wound, long since healed. You cannot simply undo what has been done."
He smirked, rising to the challenge. "Never say never."
His palm gently touched her flat stomach.
Nothing happened. A moment passed. Another. Then another. Another still, now.
His hand pulsed and something shot through her. It was pain!
HeatfireBURNINGMAKEITSTOP!
Her body jolted in agony as she doubled over in surprise, ready to cry out-only for the pain to fade as quickly as it came. Something warm spread from her lower stomach, a faint tingling sensation that vanished thrice as fast. She'd felt something just then, like a tightly-wound knot deep within her had come undone. She couldn't be entirely certain but had he really...?
"What did you do?"
"I healed you." He said it as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
That went well beyond healing! She'd felt him reach inside her and twist!
"Just what are you?"
More than a mere Targaryen, that much had become abundantly clear to her. Much more.
"Family." He smiled softly for her, sadly even, and she knew in that moment he saw her awe...and her fear. "That must hasn't changed and it never will. Now lets go home."
He took her hand in his. Had he wished it, she would've taken her then and there.
Instead, he pressed a chaste kiss to her to her forehead, ever the gentleman.
A tear rolled down her cheek.
"Yes," she said softly, little more than a whisper. "Lets."
When they returned to Dragonstone, the King in the North was waiting for them.
A/N: Some things never change. Naruto's still a softy for helping people.
Will we soon hear the pitter-patter of little Tararyens running about, I wonder?
I suppose that depends on you, dear reader. Looking forward to hearing back from you~!
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.
By all means, speak up! Make yourselves heard!
So in the Immortal Words of Atlas...
...Review...Would You Kindly?
And enjoy the Previews!
Well, potential ones.
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~?!
They're most the same, don't want to spoil things...
(Previews!) AKA Season Seven...
"Again." he traced her thigh with the padded sword.
Daenerys drew in an aggravated breath. "You did that deliberately.
He winked. "Did I?"
She tried to thump him with her own practice weapon, only for him to nimbly sidestep her once more.
"So close!'
We will not take Casterly Rock with the unsulied.
A pall fell over the room. Tyrion waited for the other boot to drop. Eventually, it did.
Surely you do not mean to burn it?!
No, it will fall.
It has no value. The matter is not up for discussion. I have heard your counsel and-
The doors bust open.
Daenerys was waiting for him when he returned.
Just...sitting there, on his bed.
"May we speak?"
Jon winced. "You're insane."
"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?"
Jon blanched. "No...but I suffered something similar not long ago."
Aegon's eye fastened upon him. "...you're telling the truth, aren't you?"
...welcome home, Ser Jorah."
"You love her." it was not a question. The words were pained.
Naruto lifted his chin and stared him down. "I do."
Jorah stared back. "And you will be true to her?"
"Of course I will."
"See that you are. If you are not, your neck will meet my blade.
"You want a wight, send a dragon over the bloody wall, grab the first one you find, and come back!" he thumped a fist against the table. "No faffing about, no grand heroics, none of this stupid horse piss."
Make peace? With Cersei? You're joking. Tell me he's joking.
Aegon rose from his chair. Jon stood his ground.
In hindsight, that might've been a mistake.
"I would sooner," he touched one hand to the side of his face,"Gouge out my other eye than make ANY sort of peace with Tywin Lannister and his bitch of a daughter. The only reason I don't count Jamie Lannister among that number is because he frankly did the world a FAVOR when he killed Aerys all those years ago. No. I'll kill every other Lannsiter I cna get my hands on, present company excluded of course." He granted a quick nod to Tyrion.
"Your war won't matter when the dead march south!"
"And how are they going to come South, hmm? Last I looked, there's a Wall in the way. We have time. If your "Night King" can raise the dead, the last thing we want to do is dangle a dragon in front of him. No, we need to be smart about this...
"Its too late now. Don't you see? Look at them.
She loves him. And he loves her.
We can't tell them."
Arya quirked a brow. "You can fight?"
"When I must."
She drew Needle. "Show me."
"You have spirit." he patted Sansa's head then laughed when she scowled and squirmed away. "I like that. Really, I do. But if I catch you trying to undermine my wife again...we'll be having words."
"You're content to be her mad dog, then?"
Dragon, actually." he tapped his eyepatch. "I never said anything about being sane...
EDIT: Hope this chapter put a smile on your face! Have a great day~!
Looking forward to chatting with you later!
Sincerely,
~Nz.