Break The Wheel: a Song of Pain and Fury

by RhaelleStark

Rhaegar experiences an awakening, powers latent in his blood line from Valyria are reborn. Lyanna escapes in the night to follow her destiny with haunting words in her mind. Ned finds the wolf, and with it his own awakening. Dragons and Wolves come together to guard the realms of men, and form an alliance that changes the direction of Westeros forever.

26. Chapter Twenty Six: The Dead Never Die

Chapter Twenty Six: The Dead May Never Die

Renly sat across from his older brother in the old Targaryen castle, the ocean breeze came in gusts from the ocean below and yet nothing could extinguish the smouldering look from Stannis.

Renly had long given up trying to warm the coldness in his brother, who sat stiffly compared to Renly's obvious relaxation. To Stannis' side stood the red priestess looking with a glaring look on her face.

"So, where is he brother?" questioned Renly directly, breaking the silence.

"Who?" growled Stannis

Renly smiled easily, "Well the boy of course. Our nephew. It's most unfortunate but his travelling companion came to me in great distress to report his disappearance. Funny you had left just the day before and then I hear he is here, on Dragonstone"

Stannis glanced to his side at the priestess who did not look amused.

"He was here," replied Stannis gruffly, "I sent him to a secret location. Seems this place isn't safe from traitors and spies"

Renly tapped the table with finger several times.

"Why are you hiding him from me when we want the same thing"

Stannis seethed slightly and leant forward.

"What is it you think we both want?"

Renly mimicked his brother and leaned forward, "To get that woman off the throne. She stole it from our brother, you know she commanded he be killed. And she ordered her true born son murdered too"

"And who would replace her? The boy is too young to rule"

"He has two uncles who can help him. We helped our brother-"

"Did he ever listen to us? On anything?" retorted Stannis.

Renly smiled slightly, "Not really, no. But the boy could be different-"

Stannis waved his hand dismissively and made a sound which made Renly frustrated.

"What are you suggesting then? We have a responsibility to our nephew" spoke Renly with more heat than before, his cheeks began to flush.

"We don't have a responsibility to anyone! This country needs one consistent leader who has the right military-"

Renly snorted in disgust, "Of course you think it should be you. You've always been entitled and just expect to always be the leader. Being the leader of three brothers isn't the same as a whole country. You have to have some charisma-"

Stannis roared and swept his hand across the table sending wine flying across the Targaryen table and splashing against the walls.

"Charisma? So you'll be the one to be so charming all the lads in the Kingdom will fall at your feet! What kind of King would you be with a bed full of men?!"

Colour rose further in Renly's face at the ugly accusations from his older brother, he looked to his feet. He didn't speak for a few moments.

"Whoever it is shouldn't be either of us, that's why it should be the boy. At least we can guide him towards greatness."

Stannis glared at Renly his eyes widened in fury and panting in rage, after several moments he leaned forward and without making eye contact with Renly he spoke, "Well how can we go against the Lannisters? Even with the boy we don't have the numbers they do"

"You don't have any allies?" queried Renly out of genuine interest.

But Stannis stiffened, "Of course I have allies-"

Again Renly scoffed, "I can tell when you're lying Stannis-"

Slightly Stannis shoulders dropped a little and he slumped back into his chair, immediately he began to pick at himself with his fingers.

"Well lucky one of us is charismatic-" said Renly with a hint of sarcasm.

Renly held up two scrolls, Stannis face remained blank causing Renly to roll his eyes and speak with impact.

"Stark," he snapped the scroll down on the table.

"Tyrell", he snapped the second scroll on the table, and waited for Stannis to speak.

Stannis merely glared coldly and said, "So what?"

"Wake up to yourself!" snapped Renly, "this is like having a conversation with a small child! We have allies, they declared for the boy. The true born heir to sit the throne-"

Renly pushed the scrolls impatiently across the table, Stannis merely stared blankly at them.

At this point Melisandre stepped forward and placed a hand smoothly on Stannis shoulder.

"You have great loyalty to your family going to such lengths to secure powerful and rich allies. But we don't-"

"I'm sorry but who are you?" interrogated Renly bluntly.

Looking nonplussed Melisandre opened her mouth to answer, but Renly cut her off again.

"We don't have your religion here so who do you think you are to be speaking in regards to the true born King of Westeros. This is Westerosi only business, this doesn't concern you. You may leave," Renly spoke tightly barely controlling his anger at the foreigners presence let alone her attempt to insert herself into their conversation.

Melisandre looked incensed, she glanced to Stannis but he waved her away, "Leave us"

Before he had managed to finish speaking she had turned and coldly exited the room throwing a cold glance at Renly as she walked through the door opened for her by the House Guards.

Renly looked to his brother, "Brother, we have a true born heir. And a way to get that bitch off the Throne. Our family will be back in power again, he will need us to be there for him. Robert sending his son to us was the best outcome we could have..."

Stannis stared for a second, and barely contained his anger. He felt the Throne slipping away from him. But instead of exploding he smiled unconvincingly, "We must meet our new found allies then"

Renly smiled as falsely in response, "Bring our nephew back, they will be expecting him to be here. And he needs to be trained. If he's grown up in poor conditions he needs to be brought up to speed on our history, our customs, practically everything, there will be expectations. Will this be a problem?"

Renly makes a pointed glance to his brother, awaiting his reply. Stannis shakes his head nonchalantly, "No problem at all, I'll send for him right away"

Renly smiles warmly, "I'm so pleased brother. I'm happy we are finally working together. We are not enemies you know," he looked intently at Stannis trying to read his thoughts.

But Stannis stared back coldly before answering bitterly, "No we are not enemies little brother"

For a moment the brothers glared at each other across the table, the sound of the waves crashing below the only noise that echoed around the room and the wind causing the candles all around them to flicker and gutter. Hesitatingly Renly stood and said softly.

"It is the right thing to do, we must protect him" he stood and looked down to his brother, trying to reach him through his hard exterior.

Stannis didn't reply, he just glared at the space where Renly had been sitting moments before. Getting no reply Renly exited the room feeling very disturbed and knowing his brother had lied. He was anxious about their true born nephew and feared he was already dead. Renly's men waited just outside the chamber and as he walked down the dim, cold hallways of Dragon Stone his men flanked him. Loras Tyrell emerged from the shadows to stand at Renly's right which brought a smirk to Renly which died as quickly as it rose. His anxiety overrode everything else, if they failed with their nephew they would all die. It was no secret their enemy came from one of the richest and most powerful families.

"We must find what happened to my nephew, I fear he may already be dead" he spoke barely above a whisper, knowing he was not in any position to move dangerously. In contrary, he felt danger all around him so much it raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

From the level above in the shadows Melisandre hovered and watched malevolently as Renly and his party depart from the room of the painted table. He spoke barely above a whisper but as she closed her eyes and focused her skills she picked up exactly what was said. Smiling maliciously she whisked herself away into the shadows and with haste made for her quarters. Heaving open the heavy door she pushed ahead and threw herself down in front of the fire and began chanting her ancient words from her fiery God. The flames which had been burning low suddenly burst up and out, Melisandre closed her eyes and felt the wonderful burn of the flames on her face. Sparks began to fly out of the flames, she chanted faster and opened her eyes which glowed an unearthly orange red. The flames burned up the walls and within them the images began to appear.

Guidance, I need guidance she spoke in her tongue using a sing song chant. The images in the flames sharpened from blurry and indistinct to clear discernible people and places. The heat from the flames reflected on her face and her eyes widened as she watched the scenes unfold. At the end when the scenes died away the flames returned to their normal size and Melisandre grinned deviously. A plan was forming in her mind.

Renly had continued down the hallway feeling the ever present sense of danger, and the face of the red priestess stuck firmly in his mind. His men opened the door to his chambers and he slumped down on a low lounge, Loras crawled up the length of his body to lie across Renly. He wrapped an arm over Loras and absent mindedly stroked Lora's' face.

"You are worried," said Loras looking up to his lover.

"That red priestess is too comfortable here," he said in a very quiet whisper, "I need to know who we are dealing with"

Loras sat up, "If she's here maybe there will be something in the castle library, what if she brought some information with her?"

Renly didn't look impressed, he had never been interested really in books but this wasn't the time to be fussy. He stood and put out his hand for Loras.

"Will you join me in the library my fair man?" he said with a comedic tone which made Loras' face break into a handsome smile and a laugh. He reached up and grasped Renly's hand.

"I accept your invitation kind sir," he returned with a similar tone and he allowed Renly to pull him to his feet and be pulled close to Renly in an intimate embrace.

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The coolness of the underground engulfed Ned as he entered underneath the tree roots, it fell around him like a cool veil as he stepped further down the natural stairs created by the roots of the Weirwood tree. Weary after being ambushed, and crestfallen from extinguishing a former ally Ned trudged with slightly drooping shoulders. His mind was heavy with thoughts and worries of what was to come next, a million scenarios playing out in his mind simultaneously. The corridor he walked down was framed by thousands of snaking white roots which seemed to glow in the dim light thrown by rays of light that surprisingly penetrated from the ground above. He followed the slight curve of the corridor noting to himself without happiness that the snaking roots were quite beautiful. Stooping to avoid striking his head Ned stepped through a small opening into a large wide cave and his eyes could hardly believe what he saw in front of him. There was a sea of small beings, what he recognised as being the mythical Children of the Forest and they all seemed to be waiting for him expectantly. Gazing around he looked shocked, but still felt the grimness of his situation hanging heavily over his head when he noted the macabre display of the newly created corpses of the Bolton's suspended by the tree roots around the cave. Their bodies were suspended by the tree roots and as he realised quickly were being devoured slowly by the tree. His gaze rested on the body of Roose, which lay on a raised bed of Weirwood roots at the other end of the cave where a visibly aged Child of the Forest stood and watched him. Soundlessly, the hundreds of small beings parted to provide Ned a pathway up to the Weirwood root altar. Unable to hide his surprise he cautiously made his way forward through the crowd. The only sound that echoed around the cave was the chink of his weapons which still had smears of Bolton blood on the blade.

Ned came to stand in front of the altar and looked to the Elder and to Roose, he didn't know what to say and started to get choked up with the worries and anxiety he tried hard to suppress. The small being stepped forward and Ned saw he had a kind face, lined with marks of ageing and pondered at his age. The Elder reached out and place a small hand on Ned's shoulder looking kindly into his face for several moments.

"Lord Stark," he said finally, "you have entered into a sacred place. Do you follow and honour the Old Gods of your people?"

Ned swallowed and dipped his head, "Aye, I follow and honour the Old Gods, like I always have"

"We have been watching and guiding you for a long time, you have always been faithful, even when tested. Today for the first time I see fear and doubt around you"

Ned looked to the ground momentarily and then back up to the Elder, with a glance at Roose's body.

"You speak the truth, this moment has tested me. I am fearful of what comes next"

The Elder looked intently into Ned's face after he finished speaking and nodded his head slowly.

"This has created a difficult position for you young Stark, yes it has. But when you trust in your Gods there will always be a solution. Do you still trust my son?"

Ned sighed a little but nodded, "I trust the Old Gods"

The Elder smiled and patted his shoulder gently, "Our people came together after much anguish and fighting, we formed a new world together. Then we had to defend that new world against a powerful spread of darkness created from the fear of our cultures coming together. My son that darkness never left our world, it was simply hidden and concealed. It has now risen again, and it is coming to finish what we stopped it from doing before. If we fail, everything you see and everyone you love will be gone"

Ned's face mirrored the seriousness of the Elder's tone, especially as snow seemed to fall from nowhere all around them. Ned looked around and the cave had completely fallen away, he now stood on a snowy slope looking across a valley at a broken and ruined castle with a sea of bodies laying scattered everywhere. He startled and looked to his side and saw the Elder next to him, suddenly there was a screech which sent a shiver down Ned's spine. The bodies which had just been lifeless all stood in unison slowly, he saw they were northerners and in an instant his heart was in his throat they were his people. Their blue shining eyes all stared at him like a sea of glittering lights as far as he could see, their mutilated rotting bodies some with flesh hanging from the bones stood in unison and stared. Without warning they advanced on him in a terrifying scrabbling swarm, some moving like spiders on four broken limbs snarling and scrabbling over each other to get to him. Their bodies piled up in a terrifying wave of snarling death and just at the point of impact the Elder simply waved his hand and they were returned to the cave, Ned's face was white and slick with fearful sweat.

The Elder calmly looked at Ned, "That is one real future possibility, do you wish to see the others?"

Ned shook his head as he fought a wave of nausea and looked to the ground bracing himself by grasping onto the Weirwood altar.

"That was Winterfell?" He panted slightly to which the Elder merely nodded.

"Every House in Westeros will fall" said the Elder softly and grimly.

Ned shook the image from his head and opened his eyes, "When?"

"Within a year"

Ned grimaced, war was breaking out with the Crown, he faced civil war in the North, there was no unity at all amongst the regions. The way he saw it they were doomed. The Elder grasped a heavy yellow stone in the shape of a pointed cone and stepped closer to Ned.

"The future is not certain, the only certainty we have is what we do right now. You will unite with your sister, that is the best hope we have"

The Elder held out the large yellow stone for Ned, he looked at it blankly.

"Take it," instructed the Elder, to which Ned obeyed. He turned the brilliant stone over in his hands. The Elder beckoned him higher on the altar, closer to Roose's lifeless body.

"When our kind came together we bestowed gifts upon a select few of your kind. That is how you and your offspring are able to wield those skills. The darkness which is growing in the North was revived by the magic of my kind, a magic which until now has never been revealed to another. I warn you though, you must not try to use your magic in this way again as the results can be disastrous as my kind have unfortunately discovered"

"What are you saying?" asked Ned in disbelief.

The Elder grimaced a little, "The War was heated, your kind and mine were dying but neither gained an advantage. A small group of us stumbled upon an ancient spell that was older than our civilisation for reincarnation. They claimed to have been guided to the spell, some say they were compelled by a malevolence that had laid in waiting for this moment. It manipulated my kin feeding on their fears to trick them into using this spell to give it life once more. Sadly for us, it got its wish and now that is who we must unite against to destroy once and for all"

Ned held the stone in his hand and stared for a moment blankly, "You created the White Walkers, why?"

The Elder shrugged slightly, "Some believed it was the only way to finally beat your kind. But their creation turned against them and now seeks to devour us all"

The Elder indicated to the stone, "Today we use the same magic to solve one of your problems"

Ned looked at the yellow stone in his hands, The Elder beckoned him forward.

"Do exactly as I say," he warned

He then gave very specific orders, all of which Ned complied with until the very last one.

"Drive the stone into the heart region," he pointed to Roose's chest, "The stone will activate the magic and bring him back"

Ned glanced nervously at the Elder, "Will he remember the enmity between us?"

"Not all of it, some imprints will remain that is unavoidable with such a deep history between the family lines. Overall the situation will be much improved"

Realising he had come this far and didn't really have a choice, Ned stood to the side and connecting with the Old Gods again he drove the stone straight into Roose Bolton's heart. He felt it grinding and tearing into the lifeless flesh before clicking into place and stopping its downward movement from an unseen force.

"Step back," instructed the Elder, "let the magic continue without your intervention"

Ned watched in amazement as the skin began to slowly encase the yellow stone which had taken on a glow and seemed to beat rhythmically like a real heart. Ned noticed the skin seemed to knit itself back together the way the Weirwood roots of the tree moved. After several minutes, the wound was completely closed and the skin appeared to be perfectly restored. Ned breathed out in disbelief when Roose opened his eyes and turned his head slowly to fix his cold stare directly at him. To Ned's side the Elder made a complicated hand gesture and Roose's body disappeared. Ned was unable to hide his shock, he looked to his side with a quizzical look.

The Elder remained calm, "I've sent him to his quarters in the castle, he will wake with a much improved disposition although I can't guarantee he won't challenge you from time to time"

Ned turned to the Elder, "Can you guarantee he won't turn against me like what you warned me about?"

The Elder took a moment to answer, "I have the ability to control this magic, the stone I used is one I nurtured and shaped myself. It is imbued with my energy and magic, which makes it responsive to only me. I will step in if needed."

"How is that different to last time?" challenged Ned in a heated tone.

"The stone they used previously mysteriously appeared already formed and ready to use. A small shard happened to fall off of it and I managed to work with it before it was destroyed. It was formed by a dark, treacherous being full of malice and manipulation. An ancient foreign being who was exiled on these lands and who sought to be alive once more. Touching that small shard almost killed me, but I learned a great deal from that stone-" his voice trailed off slightly and Ned waited for more.

"What did you learn?" pressed Ned.

"It was Valyrian in origin" returned the Elder, "but more ancient than the Valyrians who became the Targaryens we know, this being surpassed even the civilisation that we all know of. It was borne in the volcanoes of the sacred Valyrian gods and the only way to stop it is to combine magic and surpass its strength"

"It's strength?"

The Elder nodded and spoke in an ominous whisper, "If this being can reach full power and we don't have the magic to stop it we will fall"

Ned nodded grimly, "So how can we stop it? What do we do now?"

The Elder leaned forward and placed a tiny hand on Ned's hand looking up at him in earnest, "We will stop him together but for now you must plan for war for it is coming to you as we speak"

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Theon stirred and felt the sting of cold bed sheets against his warm skin, groggily he sat up slightly in his bed and rearranged the covers before dropping his head back onto his pillows. He snuggled his face into the pillow and hugged the blanket close, relishing the warmth of it. His dreams had been cold, and wet every single night for weeks now with the intensity increasing leaving him exhausted and irritable during the day. Closing his eyes again he tried hard not to think about the dreams or to hear the voice calling his name. But the second he heard the female voice it bounced around his mind and drew him immediately back into the dream. The coldness of the water shocked him, all of him was wet, freezing wet. Annoyed, he tried to think of his warm bed and the soft blankets encasing his physical body. But as soon as he started to think of it, he heard the voice again.

Theon...

At first he felt the voice was mocking him, but as he heard it's call night after night he recognised it was enticing him deeper into the water. Floundering on the surface of the icy waters he looked in all directions, but there was no one. Slowly the coldness of the water made his body numb, threatening to stop his slowing heart. Suddenly something brushed against his leg, Theon startled and looked down. But as he looked down something grasped his leg tightly and dragged him under the water. Theon struggled momentarily as he was pulled deeper and deeper, desperately he tried to escape up to the shining light of the surface. He reached out his hand to the light and let out his last gasp of air which resulted in large bubbles coming out from his body and floating up to the surface to break into nothing in the water. Desperation turned to dismay when the blood vessels in his face screamed for air, and his lungs desperately tried to inhale, again he scrabbled for the surface only to move helplessly in the water.

Theon...

The voice was louder now he was underwater, it boomed almost through his head and body sending vibrations all through him. He felt as if he might die at any moment, and his life flashed before his eyes, his heart beat rapidly desperately trying to save him. He weakly spun in the water and came face to face with another being. Her hair floated all around her and her form was translucent, she looked as if she was made out of water. Her facial features were not human but her body seemed similar to a human woman's despite the webbed feet and hands. She floated close to his face, his eyes bulged and the veins in his neck had swollen. He was a moment away from death, his eyes began to close as he surrendered to the water and died.

Good...

The voice boomed all through Theon's body again and his mind as his consciousness slipped into the welcoming embrace of death and the blackness enveloped him. His eyes closed and his body began to drop deeper in the water, the translucent woman followed him in an effortless and graceful manoeuvre of her body. She cupped the side of his face with her webbed hand and pulled his face to hers and kissed him. As she kissed him she blew water and her breath into his pale face, then she flitted backwards and waited.

For a moment, Theon's dead body hung in the water, suspended it seemed and floating. His mouth hung open, his eyes were shut and his body listless and lifeless. Impatient, the woman swam in a circle around him looking for a hint that the magic she had given him had worked. But for several minutes nothing happened, her face changed and appeared disappointed. For a moment longer she watched before turning to swim away, she looked over her shoulder again and saw the slightest movement of Theon's hand. Squinting her eyes, she swam closer trying to see better and without warning Theon's eyes opened and he heaved a great breath looking startled and scared. He brought his hand up to his neck to feel the flutter of gills and looked in amazement at his hands, which now had webbed features.

The woman's face didn't change it remained set in its expression but there was a sense of satisfaction, it had worked. Her people might be saved.

Theon startled awake, and sat up in bed choking and grabbing at his neck. Heaving breaths of air he looked all around him in a panic, he was in his bed not in water and he could breathe. He could definitely breathe. Gulping in several more breaths of air he noticed a startled Stark maid across the room, her eyes were wide and scared.

"Nightmare," he gulped as he beckoned her over. Reluctantly she obeyed, Theon watched her approach. He needed a woman now, the stiffness between his legs was aching and after dying in his dream he needed to feel alive again. And the sensation of the woman under the water touching him stirred something in Theon he couldn't explain. Undeterred by the fact this maid looked nothing like the underwater beauty he indicated she remove her clothes. Obediently she followed his orders and laid in Theon's bed, he rolled her onto her knees and entered her from behind filling her body with his hardness while he fantasised again about the woman under the waves. As he thrusted he felt the heightened beat of his heart and the sound of blood rushing in his ears, the sounds of life and warmth even love. Exploding inside her he let out a loud roar as he felt all his senses screaming and he crumpled to the bed swimming in the ecstasy of feeling alive again. But even though he breathed heavily, his heart pounded and sweat sprung on his brow all he could think in his mind were the words of his house...what is dead may never die

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Jamie stood silently to the side of the throne, Cersei was holding court but he had stopped listening to the words she spoke. He understood by her tone, and the way her bandaged arm gripped the side of the chair what was to come next. He wondered why she still bothered to sit in the throne, it seemed to detest her presence, every time she sat there it slashed her skin drawing blood. The cuts and partially healed wounds on her arm were testament to this internal struggle between Cersei and the Throne. A struggle only Jamie recognised and which Cersei fervently sought to cover with long sleeved gowns and dressings. He knew in several moments there would be bodies, several bodies to discard of and tightening his jaw he realised with irony that this was the same place he stood and witnessed the atrocities enacted by Aerys some years prior. The only difference was that Aerys liked to burn his victims while Cersei liked to watch their blood spill all across the floor. And just like the throne tearing apart Cerseis flesh in protest of her presence on the throne, she tore apart her enemies in front of it.

After the sun went down Jamie sat on the castle walls with a flask of whiskey, and tried to drown the sounds of death and the sight of blood splattered across the throne room from his mind. He sat alone but had several of the Queensguard behind him at a safe enough distance that he could still feel like he was alone. His mind travelled to the moment he drew his sword through Aerys and in the memory from his mind when he turns the King over its his sisters face he's looking into. His heart sinks and he drinks several gulps of liquor to push the memory down as far as he can. He tries replacing it with thoughts of her naked body against his, which was how she liked to end a day of ruling the seven kingdoms. Yet even those memories were tainted, as soon as she started groaning in pleasure her groans changed to the screams of the dying he heard that day. Shaking his head again he made a sound of frustration and tried to just watch the waves and listen to the wind as it blew through the night. Behind him he heard the sound of footsteps, and murmuring voices, after that small echoing footsteps approaching him. Jamie closed his eyes and felt the wind blow across his face and ruffle his hair, he felt a small hand on his back and turned slightly to see his brother Tyrion.

Tyrion looked at Jamie with a look of seriousness and sadness, "My dear brother what has our sister reduced you to?"

Jamie turned and tried to hide that he knew what Tyrion meant, "What do you mean brother?"

"Have you seen the Throne room? And the heads on spikes, some spikes have two or three heads on them! She's killing so many people she doesn't even have enough room to display them! Why haven't you stopped her?"

Jamie breathed out heavily and looked to the ground, he spoke quietly, "The only way is permanent Tyrion"

Tyrion scoffed, "This is exactly why Father sent me, he must have known she was going maniacal here. He doesn't want to be associated in any way with her rule!"

"He must really trust you to send you here," said Jamie drunkenly barely disguising jealousy.

Tyrion laughed ironically, "Or he's hoping she will add my head to those spikes"

Jamie chuckled a little, "Then why did you come?" He looked up with his bloodshot eyes.

Tyrion gave Jamie a charged look, "You know me, always hoping if I do as he asks I'll get something other than a cold glare and angry silences"

"Well what are you going to do now?"

"I'm going to see my sister, and hope to seven hells I don't end up a decoration on the walls"

Jamie stood, his balance shaky from the liquor, "I'll come with you, to soften the blow"

But Tyrion looked him up and down, "Seven Hells man you need a bed. If I take you with me she will put us both on spikes. Go, sleep. I will go and beg the Mother for mercy on the way"

Tyrion signalled to Jamie's men for help before trotting off in search of Cersei. His small silhouette passed through the shadowy halls dimly lit by low torches burning intermittently in spikes along the walls. Approaching the Queens quarters laughter spilled out from the room and two guards stood at guard with their weapons across the door. Tyrion stood in front of them and cleared his throat, but they didn't even look at him.

"I'm here to see Her Highness the Queen," he announced bravely stealing a look to one of the guards.

"Queen Cersei is not seeing visitors tonight" returned the Guard without even a glance down at him.

Tyrions gaze went to the doors where he could clearly hear someone enjoying their time with the Queen.

"She has a visitor right now," he said matter of factly.

"No visitors for the Queen," growled the Guard again.

"Very well, let Her Grace know her brother Tyrion is here under order of Tywin Lannister to set all matters of the Hand to the Queen in order for his arrival. In Tywins place he has instructed me to act as Hand, I expect a meeting with Her Grace tomorrow to go over all affairs outstanding," without waiting for their response Tyrion abruptly turned and trotted off down the hallway as they watched him disappear into the shadows. The guards looked to each other and glanced into the room, the more senior guard indicated to the other with his head and begrudgingly the other followed his orders. Opening the door light burst into the dark corridor followed by laughter and noise, the Guard stepped over the white cloaks and armour to deliver the news of Tyrions arrival to the Queen.

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Tyrion made his way through the castle undeterred by the smell of blood thick in the air, he had expected chaos when he arrived just not to this extent. He came to a hallway where he could turn to enter the Tower of the Hand, but he paused and looked the other way catching a scent of floral perfume. He chose to turn right and follow the heady scent. His nose brought him to a door he knew well, and knocked lightly three times. He heard a scurried movement and smirked a little, then heard shuffling footsteps. The door creaked slightly open and a gust of perfumed air shot out, as well as Varys' cautious gaze. He looked down and caught sight of Tyrion, opening the door wider to allow him passage he smiled pleasantly, almost too pleasantly.

"Master Tyrion, please come in," these words made Tyrion grimace a little but he stepped inside all the same. Being called Master reminded him of being a child and mocked by the other noble children's nasty taunts. The room was warm and lavishly furnished, it looked almost exactly the same as he'd seen it quite a few years before.

"It's always a pleasure to see you but where is your Father? His presence in the Capitol is sorely needed," spoke Varys with his sing song scolding voice. Tyrion gave Varys a charged look before answering.

"Father sent me ahead so he can finalise his affairs in the West, he can't come and help my sister run the Kingdoms if his own has outstanding issues withstanding"

Varys face remained unchanged hiding his true expression.

"Father told me to come and help Cersei until he arrives-"

"He sent you to help the Queen?" retorted Varys mockingly, "What on earth will you be able to do?"

"Well it seems a good deal better than whoever is currently meant to be helping her," returned Tyrion with scorn, "The Small Council has clearly failed-"

"The Small council is exactly that, it's small. There are three living members of the council and Our Queen won't replace the chairs held by the Baratheons or the ones she's already executed"

For several minutes Tyrion and Varys shared a charged look before Varys beckoned Tyrion deeper into the room, and pulled aside a curtain leading to a hidden room beyond. He lit a candle and very quietly replaced the curtain and turned to Tyrion with urgency.

"Lord Tyrion, we don't have much time and I must talk in no more than a whisper. These are dangerous conversations to have and her numbers of loyal spies is quite enviable and if I'm saying that you know it's serious. Something must be done"

Tyrion let the words wash over him for a moment, "Something must be done? If you mean what I think you do that is treason"

"You've not even been here a full day Lord Tyrion, when you've seen what she's capable of come back. But before then-" he ushered Tyrion back into the other room and began talking loudly immediately, "We have Small Council meetings daily in the Tower of the Hand which you will of course be attending. Be sure to have wine and platters of cakes ready as Our Queen doesn't enjoy meetings on an empty stomach. So very nice to see you again Lord Tyrion, good night"

Before Tyrion could mutter another word in response he was ushered out the door and it was closed behind him before he could turn to say a goodbye even. A sound in the corridor made him startle, he thought he heard muffled hurried footsteps but then he couldn't be sure he wasn't being paranoid after Varys' rushed warnings. Cautiously he continued down the hall towards the Tower of the Hand mulling over everything Varys had said, and things that remained unsaid as well.

Varys sat with a hand against his beating heart, and took a moment to compose himself before pulling out the scroll he was composing before Tyrions unexpected visit. Written in small spidery writing he adds at the very end...

Your youngest born has arrived, he has wits about him something we need in this time. We only had a short meeting but I must say he left quite an impression..."

Slowly and carefully he rolled up the scroll and sealed it with a secret stamp he kept in a hidden drawer Varys shuffled to his window and whistled very quietly. Several moments passed before black wings heralded the appearance of a raven, obediently it held out its leg and he attached the scroll discreetly amongst its feathers. He leaned forward and whispered the recipients name to the bird and it hopped away into the darkness, launching itself into flight from another part of the castle to its intended recipient. It's dark wings flapped quietly in the night soaring across the city and into the darkness beyond.

In its wake Varys returned to his desk, and stared straight ahead while he fiddled with his fingers, gently he picked up the scroll he had received and re read the short singular sentence.

Find the Targaryens

At first, he was surprised to hear those words coming from this man but he had to admit to himself since they ceased ruling Westeros had never been the same. Pondering his next actions Varys silently opened a hidden drawer on his desk and drew out a healthy sack of golden dragon coins. Gently he rested it on his desk and stared at it, his gaze rested on it as if he stared at a flame. And he realised that just this small stack of coins alone could trigger momentous and devastating effects depending on what he did with it. A small shuffling sound punctuated the quietness of the room and Varys turned to the side to see a panel of the wall slide to the side and a small, scruffy dirty face poked through the hole it created. Varys placed a finger on his mouth indicating quiet, the boy nodded and quietly tip toed to stand in front of Varys. Smoothly Varys picked up the bulging sack causing the boys eyes to widen, he placed the bag in the boys hands and opened it.

"I know exactly how many coins are in here," he warned in a whisper, "Two of these coins will feed your family for a year, take two coins out and hand this on to your friend who can row"

The boys eyes grew wide, two coins was the most payment he had ever been given, his family would finally all be able to eat. Eagerly he nodded, and Varys closed his hands around the coin pouch.

"Once this pouch leaves your hands, you never speak of it again. I don't want to have to visit your family if I hear otherwise-"

The boy shook his head fearfully, and grasped the coin pouch to his heart trembling slightly. He had seen the aftermath of those who betrayed the Spider and it was enough to scare him immensely. Varys' gaze flicked to the passage, "Go". The boy scurried away replacing the panel quietly as he left leaving an anxious Varys behind pondering how this act will change the fate of them all.

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The little boy scrambled through the darkness gladness in his heart, two golden dragons, that was an unheard of amount for someone his age and ranking in Varys web. He had to get to the docks, that was his only job. Pushing forward he scrambled along a rock wall in the dark tunnel and pushed aside a wet slippery rock, salty air burst through the hole he created and he tasted salt water. Slowly he scrambled to the surface and replaced the stones, and clambered carefully being careful not to slip into the swirling hungry waves below. One wrong foot and he would fall to his death, heart racing he had to brace when a large wave sent a huge spray of sea water all over him drenching him. Clinging tightly he almost slipped off the rock from the force of the spray, and once he caught his breath he scrabbled as fast as he could before the next one could reach him. Gasping heaving breaths from safety he grasped the bag and breathed out in relief when it was still in its place. He turned and dived through a window into the abandoned house, nimbly he jumped over dusty broken furniture being able to clearly see in the dark. Coming to a damaged door the boy stole a glance into the street beyond, people staggered all around singing drunkenly or talking in hushed conversations. All seemed preoccupied with their own business, his small eyes scanned the whole scene waiting for the right moment to open the door and slip into the square. It came when a conversation became heated, and blows were thrown creating noise and a fight. Quickly he heaved open the door and slipped off to the side running away in the opposite direction towards to docks. He still needed to flit along the edges of the alleyway, being out this late was dangerous for a kid. All kinds of unsavoury citizens were out and all of whom had nefarious desires for a young one. Knowing the dangers of the city he calls home he crawls through stinking piles of rubbish, sidles around piles of wooden crates and scrambled over boxes to avoid the people that stand between him and the docks. He can smell the harbour and hear the clink of the boats. Gripping the coin bag in determination, he crawls through a hole created by some crates and boxes on his stomach and watches the docks. Luckily for him he only needs to run across to the boat ahead but unlike the alley way, the docks were alive with people more dangerous than the ones he had just dodged. He spied the boat strung with little lanterns, and fixed his gaze on it from a pile of rubbish that stunk of fish. When he found a gap in the crowd, nimbly he ran as fast he could dodging the crowd and slipping easily between the legs of people as they staggered or danced drunkenly with large pitchers of ale in their hands. More than once a slurp of ale dripped over his head which even though he found the stench disgusting he had to press on. Jumping into a pile of ropes and heart pounding in his chest from the anxiety and the exertion he sat there in the dim evening clutching the coins and breathing heavily. After a period of time he peered out of the ropes to make sure he hadn't been seen before clambering onto the boat in search of his friend. The boat was strewn with all kinds of things, piles of dirty clothes, empty ale glasses so old the ale had dried in the bottom, plates of fish bones and assorted rubbish. They all belonged to the one person he was after, he found him cleaning food from his mouth with a fish bone.

"Ah lad, what are you doing about at this hour? You'll get snatched running around town this late and end up in a pot of brown!" scolded the older man.

"I got summoned-" stammered the young lad to which the older man grimaced, he knew once called you must come.

"Very well what is it this time?" he spoke gruffly holding out his hand impatiently.

Obediently the boy dropped the pouch into his calloused hands causing them to dip a little. The man's eyes widened.

"This be a very heavy pouch," he whispered seemingly to no one, "What be the message?"

He looked down to the boy as he opened the strings of the pouch to expose the pile of gold laying inside.

"Braavosi ship, set sail a time ago"

"And-," spoke the old man gruffly, "Who are they seeking?"

"He told me he wants to find Stormborn"

The man's eyes widened a little, "Stormborn?"

The boy nodded, "Yes that's who he said"

Knowing the boy had no idea who Stormborn is the older man shakily put his hand in the pouch and drew out one golden coin and held it out. The boy hastily grasped it but eyed the pouch nervously and the older man laughed.

"What you waiting for laddie?"

"Master said I could have two-" he spoke in a small nervous voice. The older man looked suspiciously at the boy but knew him well enough to know when he's lying.

"Very well," he grumbled and drew out the other coin. The boy trotted over and grasped the coin happily.

"Now run home to your ma she'll be fretting for ya' and get ye back here tomorrow and fix the nets on the dock! I want them like new when I return!". Without another word the boy obediently disappeared into the night, flitting around the people like a little shadow. The old man watched him go protectively before sighing and gathering his belongings inside the boat and finally he lifted the heavy rope from the dock and coiled it up, tossing it inside the hull. Laboriously he began to row picking up pace enough to fill the sails above and set sail into the starry night. Once he was free of the headlands and sure none could see him the old man stopped rowing and reached a hand up into the air muttering some words under his breath. He barely got the words out before he began to cough and splutter, the years of Kings Landing had not been kind to him. Nonetheless once he finished coughing he started rowing again and a breeze began to pick up all around him, he glanced at the pouch of coins he possessed and focused on the ship headed to Braavos. Suddenly the wind picked up and pushed a small wall of water across the surface of the ocean, the old man held on and rode the wave through the night. He travelled this way for a long time, in complete pitch black only with the dim light of the moon above him and the glittering stars. The scent of the ocean soothed him as he felt more at home on the sea as he did on land. He smiled sadly as he remembered the years of his youth on DragonStone, his silver hair bobbing around the coast and clambering through the mountains. He wiped a tear away as the memories of his youth overtook him, and he remembered his pledge to Varys, the spider. On the horizon a dark shape began to appear and he leaned forward to be sure he was seeing the right thing, it was a ship bobbing along with its sails lowered. He grimaced and hoped the crew weren't already asleep, he detested waking up sailors. Cranky drunks the lot of them, he thought with a chuckle remembering his time as one himself. Coming alongside the ship he threw a rope and tethered his tiny boat to its side and lithely clambered up the side of the boat showing a youthfulness which would be surprising to many.

Arya was shaken awake and startled, groggily her vision steadied and she wiped the drool from the side of her mouth. Groaning in annoyance she tried to turn away, she had been having the best sleep in weeks and wasn't letting anyone ruin it. But the shaking became more urgent, and she nastily snapped.

"What?!"

"A girl must listen," spoke the smooth, unwavering voice of Jaqen. Arya's eyes widened and she froze, still groggy but listening.

"What is it?" She whispered.

Jaqen simply held up the Braavosi coin, "This ship is no longer going to Braavos"

Arya looked confused, "Why? Wait, what happened?"

Jaqen's face remained serious, "This ship is now in service to the Queen"

Aryas face was mortified, "But-" she started, panicking to get up but Jaqen grasped her and looked directly into her eyes.

"We must leave and find another way, there are other ships"

"We can't leave! We are in the middle of the ocean!" lamented Arya. Jaqen merely chuckled and got to his feet, holding out his hand. Arya tightly grasped it and allowed her to be pulled to standing, she turned back to the person sleeping behind her. Gendry lay sleeping still, unaware of what was happening.

"I can't leave him, they'll kill him"

"They will kill us," retorted Jaqen, "and travelling as a group is not a good idea"

"I'm not leaving him," reiterated Arya obstinately.

Jaqen grimaced in annoyance but after a moment his face returned to being calm, "Fine, wake him but we leave now"

Arya nodded and hurriedly woke Gendry explaining in hushed tones, Nymeria yawned and sleepily stood waiting for Arya. Once Gendry was on his feet they stumbled above deck as quietly as they could manage. When they emerged they heard a low whistle and turned to follow it seeing Jaqen across the deck. He made a hurried motion Arya recognised so she ducked and told Gendry to follow, then they flitted across the deck. When they got there Arya looked over the side and saw two small boats, Jaqen sat in one. Without a thought, she clambered over the side and lowered herself into the boat. Gendry followed and held his hands out for Nymeria who was forced to leap into his arms, which she did with a low unimpressed yelp when he caught her. Jaqen held his finger to his lips as he untied the small boat, Arya looked curiously at the other boat as they sailed away into the darkness of night and away from the boat that was meant for Braavos.

Onboard the ship the old man stands in the Captains cabin, and places the bag of golden dragon coins into the captains hand. He whistles in surprise and opens the bag to reveal the golden pile of coins, he looks up greedily.

"What do you want in return?"

"Your guests," says the old man, the Captain nods and waves his hand dismissively.

"What am i looking for?" said the Captain as he greedily glared at the pile of gold.

"Find Daenerys Targaryen" replies the old man simply.

The Captain looked suspiciously at the old man and began to laugh, "Daenerys Targaryen is dead, there are no dragons"

The old man leaned forward and shook his head fixing his mixed colour eyes on the Captain, his silver grey hair shining a little in the dull firelight of the cabin.

"She is alive, and the Queen wants her"

Smiling terribly the Captain trickled the coins through his fingers creating a tinkling sound echoing around the cabin.

"Fine, I'll find her and bring her back to ye. Alive or not?"

"If we sought you out I think you know the answer"

The Captain laughed greedily, he did so love having his way with them when he was done. And a Targaryen, that was a treat.

The old man nodded satisfied and without waiting for more he turned and exited the room in search of the poor souls he needed to drag back to the Capitol. It was a grim task, and he often felt bad when he saw the heads on spikes but he reasoned with himself he needed to eat and someone else would just do it anyway. So it might as well be him.

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Oberyn had excused himself from the war council, he didn't see the sense in staying any longer when the enemy hadn't officially declared war yet and thus all their planning and stressing might be for nothing. They had some genius ideas he couldn't deny it but without an outward declaration from the Capitol it all seemed fruitless. He even thought to himself as he walked, why am I even here? It's bloody cold and the women are boring.

He pondered heading back to Dorne when he took a turn down a hallway and realised he was completely lost.

This castle all looks the same, he thought to himself angrily as he turned and tried to figure out exactly where his quarters were. He realised he was in another wrong corridor and angrily turned around when he saw light spilling out from a door. His curiosity was piqued so he poked his head into the doorway and saw Bran Stark sitting by a fire wrapped in a blanket and furs. His dire wolf Summer lay at his feet and looked up with a whine before placing his head back between his feet. Oberyn gently knocked on the door and Bran glanced up with a smile.

"Come in, sit with me"

Oberyn was a little shocked at his familiarity, they hadn't really spoken since he had arrived and he hadn't seen the boy at all around the castle.

"Are you enjoying Winterfell?" asked Bran curiously.

Oberyn laughed a little as he sat across from Bran, "Of course I am"

Bran smiled a little and fixed a hard stare on Oberyn, "That's a lie, but it's alright you can't be expected to love something so different from what you're used to"

For the first time in a long time Oberyn was shocked, "What makes you think I don't like it here?"

"Well firstly you still dress like you're in Dorne so the cold is getting to you. I'll have my fathers tailor come by and help you with some more appropriate wear. And second you find our women boring"

Oberyn just blinked in response, second time in moments this boy had managed to unnerve him. No one had been able to do that to Oberyn ever. His fingers pressed against his temples and he sat forward very close to Bran, Summer growled very low.

"How can you know what I was thinking"

"I know a lot of things, like how your brother doesn't listen to you when he should and how much joy seeing your niece brought you"

Oberyn sat back to process the words Bran spoke with such ease and calmness, he wiped his hand over his eyes to try and covertly hide some tears. In one moment Bran hit two nerves at once in Oberyn. He looked to Bran.

"You wanted me here didn't you?"

Bran smiled again, "You're quick, and smart. Pretty easy to make you get lost though"

"Why? What do I have that you want?"

"Loyalty" replied Bran without hesitation

"My Father needs you, if you leave his side we lose a bit of hope"

"Hope? What do you mean?" Oberyns face creased in confusion.

"There will be no war declaration, the war will just come"

"Cersei won't declare war? But that's, that's not how war is done!" exclaimed Oberyn hotly.

"Cersei doesn't follow the usual rules, why would she? It's what excluded her from ruling in the first place"

Oberyn raged internally, he desperately wanted to leave because secretly he wanted to find his niece again. He wanted to be there with her and never leave wherever she was.

"Rhaenys will come to you, you don't have to go in search of her"

"Get out of my head!" warned Oberyn pointing a finger accusingly at Bran.

"I'm not trying to get in your head but your thoughts are so loud. And besides before she comes we have work to do, and you'll be needed at the Wall"

"Wait what did you say?"

"I said the Wall, after the North is protected you won't return to the South for a while. So you'll really need some furs and more appropriate clothing"

Oberyn grimaced in anger but Bran was right he was loyal to Ned Stark. He had grown to be quite fond of the icy Northerner and his wry wit, the pair had shared many laughs over private meetings and shared a love of the hunt. He would never forgive himself if he left and the war claimed his friend.

"I will stay, " declared Oberyn, "and I'll wear your furs but you should be telling these things to the war council. You can see or hear what's happening right? It should be you"

Bran laughed and looked poignantly at Oberyn indicating his physical state, "Those men's minds aren't open enough to listen to a cripple in planning a war"

Oberyn didn't say anything in response but he knew Bran was right, "Tell me everything then and I will tell them. I'll stay and help your Father, and if we need your help again you can tell me then as well"

"All I know right now is she won't declare war, she will just order it. If we aren't ready she wins easily and we suffer heavy losses. Her war declaration was actually the day she pushed me and my sister from a cliff, she never considered we would survive. You need to set up whatever you're planning now. And if I receive more specifics I will tell you, but once the fighting starts I won't be here any more"

Oberyn looked confused, "Where are you going?"

"Beyond the Wall"

Oberyn couldn't help it he looked at Bran's broken form with disbelief.

"Why are you going there? And how will you get there?"

"Help will come," said Bran confidently, "and I don't know why I just know I must go. Someone or something is waiting for me there"

Oberyn sat back and was in quiet awe for this young man sat before him, he had never met someone like this. He seemed to be wise well beyond his years and unnerving in his all knowing abilities.

"Summer can you show Lord Oberyn back to his rooms please, it was nice to meet you my Lord. I will speak to you again when I need to" smiled Bran extending his hand. Oberyn took his small hand in his and shook genuinely.

"My pleasure also but I believe I'll go in search of your Father so we might begin to prepare for what's to come"

"That is wise," said Bran seriously as Oberyn exited, he looked back once more to see Bran's haunting eyes which gave him chills down his spine.

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The sight of the sun rising over the horizon through the mists that enveloped Valyria entranced Rhaegar, he leaned forward slightly sliding his hands along Baeron's spine to look. The dragon snorted in response and continued beating his enormous wing span drawing them closer to their ancient home land. Rhaegar squinted trying to see into the mist clearer but all he could make out were the dark shapes of what used to be buildings. He tapped Baeron's back slightly and the dragon turned away in an arc to give Rhaegar a better aerial view. He looked back and surveyed the broken city from above, he had to push down the emotions he felt at the prospect of setting foot on the fabled land. He spotted a clearing where he could land Baeron and dismount, telepathically he communicated this to the dragon and immediately the descent began. Baeron spread out his wings and his enormous claws hit the ground with a deafening crunch, he screeched as he droppped his front legs onto the ground causing Rhaegar to jolt forward slightly. Rhaegar was unfazed though, he just looked around for a moment trying to get a sense of anything living was present. It was quiet though, eerily quiet and the dust their landing had created lingered in the air as there was no wind to settle it. Rhaegar swung his legs off the dragon and lithely climbed down walking along the bulk of Baeron's body to his face. Rhaegar stood by Baeron's side and both man and dragon surveyed the scene. It was utter devastation all around them, broken and melted buildings, debris littered all over the ground. For a moment Rhaegar tried to imagine how it all unfolded and was barraged with flickering images and screams in his ears.

You don't want to know what it was like, boomed Baeron's voice in Rhaegar's mind. Rhaegar grimaced and braced his forehead which felt like spinning.

How do you know? You were born hundreds of years after, joked Rhaegar in return.

All living dragons retain memories of the past, especially when it was so devastating for my ancestors. The past is what we learn from, spoke the dragon wisely.

Do you know the layout of the city? It would certainly help, questioned Rhaegar earnestly.

Baeron paused, I have an understanding but it's limited

Limited?

I know things pertaining to dragons not humans

Rhaegar nodded, Well whatever you can tell me will be of help

What do you want to achieve here?

Rhaegar looked around and placed his hands on a huge stone block, The world is broken while Valyria is broken. We must fix it. Rebuild

That is ambitious even for you, mused the dragon.

I've been drawn to come here and it makes sense. I have to try and fulfill what my heart and dreams are guiding me to do

Where will you start? Baeron looked around at the utter devastation and mess around them. Rhaegar put his hand on his chin thoughtfully

I want to find the surviving relics first, there must be some. Then we will go section by section and clear out anything else before we start building

Before you do anything here you must give something to the sacred fires, you are on the land of the sacred Gods of Valyria. If you don't give an offering you will never succeed, Baeron spoke ominously and smoke came out of his nostrils

Rhaegar leaned on the large stone and closed his eyes cursing himself that he left in such haste without thinking to bring an offering for the sacred fires. He should've known this, he had studied dragon magic intensely in preparation to come to Valyria.

I have nothing to offer, said Rhaegar crestfallen his shoulders dropped.

You have a vision, you want to restore Valyria. Offer yourself, the one with the vision and means to implement it is worth far more value than a pretty trinket with no use, the dragon spoke wisely.

Rhaegar breathed out and nodded in agreement, "I hope I am enough" he chuckled with a nervous edge, "Let's gather what we can and then take me to the sacred fires"

Baeron crouched lower so Rhaegar could climb up from his front leg and confidently positioned himself on dragon back again. With one powerful movement the dragon launched back into the air and the pair began to scour the ruined city. They spent the day collecting what artifacts they could find in the rubble. Rhaegar clambered over large blocks and dug through the ruins if they spotted anything of interest and by the time the sun started to dip below the horizon there was a large haul of precious Valyrian objects, even some old books were pulled out of the rubble. Rhaegar looked over it all turning the objects in his hands, and flicking through the books.

He turned to Baeron, "Imagine how much more we will find once we start rebuilding"

If the sacred gods allow it to be so, thundered the dragons voice in Rhaegar's mind.

"We should go to the sacred fires now, where are they?"

It's under us, it will come when it's ready to talk. They already know we are here

Rhaegar stood from his crouch and looked a bit unnerved, he looked around as if someone was standing behind him.

"What do you mean Baeron?"

They called us here, so they knew when we arrived. They've been watching the whole time. Our Gods are different to the ones you've known young dragon rider, they have names and faces and they speak to you in person. Arrax will come when he's ready you must be prepared for his arrival

Rhaegar's face was serious, and he felt uncertainty and nervousness within his gut. Everything was finally underway, he had been working towards this for years. Now all the pieces were in place where he needed them to be, he just needed a favourable outcome because he didn't know what failing with the Valyrian gods would even mean for him. The thought was terrifying, he could fail everyone. Nervously he gathered up the artifacts into a sack and slung it over his shoulder.

"We should make a camp somewhere and wait until Arrax comes"

That is wise, but we will continue with our exploration. Arrax is watching and wants to see what you plan to do

Rhaegar tried to hide feeling unnerved about every step of his being watched but he reasoned with himself it was the same living in the castle with his increasingly crazed father. He survived that, he can survive it again. Once again on dragon back the pair soared up above the mist to scout for safe shelter.

They discovered a large opening in the side of one of the volcanoes which hadn't completely collapsed on itself during the explosions so long ago. Baeron was satisfied, he could feel the warmth of the volcano and breathe it's sulphurous air when he settled deeper inside. Unable to stand those fumes for long, Rhaegar set up a bed closer to the opening where he got the fresh air. He grasped the sack of relics and emptied them onto the cave floor with a caucophony of sound. He looked over them, they were tarnished, some were warped from the extreme heat, others looked untouched as if someone had made them recently. Several books lay scattered around and this is what Rhaegar examined first to see if he could understand the language. He opened the first book and was surprised he could read every sentence and understand it, then he picked up another and another. Before he knew it he had spent hours absorbed in these texts and learnt things about Valyria no one had known since the Doom. Feeling elated, he stood and stretched his stiff body which ached from sitting down for so long. He walked to the opening of their shelter and looked across the ruined city, the broken lopsided buildings, covered in moss and dust and the melted statues and former decoration which stood proudly throughout the city. He closed his eyes and reimagined the city rebuilt, the blocks of broken buildings rebuilt themselves, the statues were repaired and a grand palace erected itself flying a Valyrian flag in the breeze. He saw the vision for the city, he saw the temples and schools for dragon riders, he became lost in the moment of creativity and saw himself and Lyanna blessing Aegon with his crown making him the leader of New Valyria. His face was smiling when he opened his eyes, but quickly his smile faded when all across the broken city he saw men standing and looking up at him. Thousands of men infected with grey scale, and they all stared in the same direction right up at the spot he found shelter.

The Gods have arrived to test you young dragon, are you ready? boomed Baeron's voice in the confines of Rhaegar's mind.

You know how ready I am, he returned and conjured a powerful fireball in both palms of his hands he brought his hands together to combine their strength and held it poised ready to strike. He breathed steadily as he waited for something, anything to happen. The flames danced in anticipation, reflecting in his eyes as he remained poised in an attack stance.