Chapter 61: The end of dragons
301 AC
Jon
He turned his horse back towards the battlefield and took a few deep breaths. They had destroyed the enemy cavalry on the flank and had just devastated the enemy infantry. Their charge had been one of the most brutal ones he had ever experienced.
The Greatjon had opened his lines and pulled in most of the sellswords and many of the Freedmen into a fierce melee. At the same time the majority of the Freedmen were still pushing forward to join in too. They had slammed into their side and rear at the same time and had created an absolute bloodbath.
In one charge over a thousand Freedmen had been wounded or killed, many times that number scattering in all directions completely breaking the flank. His cavalry rode some of those down. The heavy infantry had followed this up by encircling those fighting in the melee and bringing them down from all sides. Less than a fourth of the flank stayed intact, pulling back to the center and joining in with them. By now the enemy reserve force had arrived there and had stabilized everything.
He led his men forward and charged them anyway. This charge was the complete opposite of the last one. It hadn't connected well from the start and they were soon met by Unsullied spears. He swatted away a spear with his sword and quickly yelled for his men to retreat.
He reformed his troops once again but sent two portions of his force away under Domeric and Harrion to disperse their archers and halt them from firing. He stood tall on his stirrups, as he looked for help from the Vale cavalry. All he could see was disorganized groups of horses running around in the distance. He sent two riders to order them to reform and help charge the enemy force from all sides.
A big roar could be heard from the backlines and he looked towards it. Flames of black fire light up the sky there, but then they stopped. He was curious on what was going on, but he had a job to do himself. Besides, these roars did not have the same effect on him as the shriek from a few minutes before had. Then, the sky had filled with yellow flames instead of black ones. The sound had also been different, almost as if mixed with panic instead of defiance. He had felt a strange desire to go there then, much stronger than he had now. However, he had a duty to Robb and so he had focused on the enemy infantry.
Once more, he prepared his soldiers for a charge. They rode towards the enemy and from the corner of his eye, he could see a group of two to three hundred knights of the Vale doing the same from the other sides. This charge did connect, but the Unsullied had been ready for it. Their spears wreaked havoc on his riders. He had to pull his forces back again, even before he himself made contact with the enemy.
As his forces reformed back on the hill, he was figuring out what to do when he suddenly saw the reserve moving up. The reserve cavalry charged the other flank to devastating effect. His instincts kicked in and he circled around with a good thousand or so horsemen and charged in after them. They quickly finished the job and the whole flank scattered.
Blackfyre slashed the throats of multiple Freedmen, but most of his victims were struck down in the back as they tried to run away. He tried to search for his brother, but he couldn't find him and neither could Ghost. This worried him greatly, as he feared the worst, until he asked an officer wearing Stark colors.
"The king was wounded by the dragons and ordered Lord Smalljon to lead the charge. Lord Torrhen and others of His Grace's friends are caring for him, but he seemed out of any danger. His direwolf is also with him." He thanked the man profusely for the names and would try to remember his name to reward him after the battle. He rode back from the lines until he knew he was out of any danger and warged into Ghost. He reached out to Grey Wind. For some reason they could always know approximately where they were. He felt a slight pull somewhere across the hill where Ghost thought his brother was. This seemed to corroborate the soldier's story. When he was back into his own body, he let out a breath he hadn't known he had been holding.
Both cavalry forces pulled back and he sent a guard to Smalljon to make sure he integrated the Valemen into his force. Before any of them could charge the center again, a message from Robb arrived. It ordered them to pull back and make a wide perimeter around the enemy force. They were ordered to protect the archers and kill any who tried to flee.
However strange the orders were, he knew better to question's Robb commanding capabilities in the heat of battle and did as he was told. After he had done so, he simply looked on from the hill he waited on.
He saw the infantry disengage and for a while both sides halted. He couldn't see why, were they talking to each other? However, soon it all changed. Dozens of horns were blown, and a barrage of arrows filled the air. Thousands of arrows were fired and they took a deadly toll on the enemy's light armored elite force. After the second volley, the enemy advanced. In a mad charge, they ran towards the center of the line.
His eyes were constantly drawn to somewhere above the lines. In the center there, he could see the Stark direwolf flow proudly in the air. It must be Ghost's connection to Grey Wind. He knew Robb was there and they were marching on them, but he could do nothing he had his orders.
Hundreds of enemies fell down before ever reaching their lines and they ran forward like an uncontrollable horde. When they reached their lines, he just gasped. Instead of engaging in combat, they just ran through. He could see enemies fall on all sides by arrows, while the main body seemed to be moving inside their lines at an unimaginable speed. He knew what those fighters on their lines were capable off. To move through at this pace meant the enemy must be being killed by the hundreds. Still, they pushed through towards the direwolf banner.
After a while, they seemed to slow down. He couldn't see what happened next though as by now many of the remaining Freedmen and mercenaries were trying to flee, leaving only the Unsullied behind. He signaled for his cavalry to come into action and they rode forward. They charged them down as if it was nothing more than child's play. The enemies were spread out, exhausted and many had even dropped their weapons. This was no fight it was a clean-up. Yet, it needed to be done. With no way back to Essos, they would just reave and plunder the Stormlands if they weren't put down.
After splitting a man's skull with Blackfyre, he pulled on his reigns and looked up at the battle. There everything seemed to have started to quiet down. The front wasn't moving any longer and the enemy seemed to be thinning. I'll end this, he thought, and he shouted for a few hundred horsemen to reform.
Not much later, they barreled into the back of the remaining Unsullied. Killing hundreds and throwing the last of them in complete disarray. He could see bodies everywhere around him. Many of them not from his own doing, but from the arrow fire that had continuously peppered their opponents. Yet, the former slave soldiers stayed true to their reputation. Even with horrible losses and their formation shattered, they still fought on.
Then their heavy infantry marched forward from all sides, aided by those of the Vale. Before his eyes Unsullied everywhere were overpowered by their more heavily armored Westerosi counterparts. The Essosi's main strength was their discipline and ability to fight in group against oncoming enemy armies. Once all that was scattered all that remained were skilled fighters, who were heavily outclassed in armor, equipment and experience by all Westerosi veterans in these kinds of fights.
Soon, it was all over. He rode on towards his brother's banner and found Robb there. He seemed wounded and was dressed in some weird Riverlander armor. At first, he was concerned but when his brother saw him he smiled to him and a weight lifted from his shoulder. It was clear he was going to recover in time.
Ghost and Grey Wind greeted each other playfully. While Grey Wind was happily yapping at his brother, Ghost just silently jumped around with him. He dismounted and clasped Robb in a hug, however the latter screamed it out in response. "My shoulder, it was burned! Do. Not. Touch. It. Please." He stammered out with tears in his eyes. He apologized profusely, but his brother just waved it away.
He greeted some of their friends and hugged Dacey, who sat by Owen's side. In tears, she explained him what had happened. He looked over the lifeless body of Ser Barristan and had to think of Bran. Once, before all of this had started, his younger brother had idolized the knight. What would he say when they had to tell them they were responsible for his death? What would they say against any of them after all these years? He had fought in the army responsible for his aunt's death … did that make him a kinslayer?
He could shake none of these melancholy thoughts and to his surprise the faint pull in the back of his mind hadn't gone away. He looked upon Ghost and Grey Wind and even closed his eyes to take control of his companion for a second. Nothing changed. His eyes were drawn to the backlines, were the artillery had stood and he felt drawn towards it. He deliberated on what to do. He looked around for a while and realized there was no real need for him here now. Others could take over his duties easily.
He walked over to Robb. "Brother," he whispered in his ear as he clasped his arm again. "I need to go up the hill. I don't know why or how, but something is pulling me towards the area. It feels as … as if it's beckoning me to come. I think I need to do this, alone. Will you and the army manage for a while without me?"
His brother looked to him a frown clear upon his face. He said nothing for the longest time, but finally broke the silence. "Is it like with Ghost?"
"Aye, but also no. It's similar, but still different. It's very weak and at the same time much more demanding. I don't know how to explain it." He honestly replied.
"Do you think it is … ?" Robb asked.
"I don't know, but I intend to find out."
His brother nodded. "Are you sure you don't need a companion? I could send Grey with you, if you want."
He smiled back. "No, this is something that I need to do alone. I'll be safe, I promise." They looked at each other before they lightly hugged again, Robb only using his good shoulder and arm this time. "Good luck, brother. I'll see you in the command building when you give your report on your side of the battle." He simply laughed and walked away.
He rode over the hill, initially intend on make for the center of the carnage. It was there he could see the body of the black dragon and he imagined his aunt's body to be as well. Yet, as he got closer, he realized that he wasn't pulled over there. The closer he got, the less faint it became. He was pulled to the side away from the battlefield and the siege engines. He rode over a small hill, some hundred feet away from where everything had happened.
There he saw marks of an incredible crash. Trees had been thrown down and earth had been uprooted. At the end of a small trail-like scar across the earth, a majestic green scaled dragon lay. He looked at its corpse and felt the pull growing stronger. He rode his horse towards it, yet it seemed skittish and after a while refused to go further. He rode it back a bit and tied it's leash up to a half-destroyed tree and calmed it. Then he went further on foot.
When he finally reached the beast, he admired it's jade-green scales. The deepness and liveliness of the color. Even dead, he could feel the power the beast radiated. Was this how his ancestors had felt when they thought themselves capable of conquering Westeros? Was this how his aunt had felt?
He stretched out his hand, intend on touching the scales but something in him didn't dare to disturb the body. Powerful as it looked, it was also highly mutilated. Broken off arrows were stuck everywhere, mostly in its wings. Its right wing was half torn off and he could see the remnant of a ballista shaft sticking out of the side of its belly. The beast must have suffered greatly at the hands of their artillery. For some reason, the thought alone made him sad, but he didn't understand why.
As he walked across the side of the dragon, starting from its tail, he finally reached its head. He admired the beauty of it and in his mind's eye he compared it to the skulls he had seen in the Red Keep. It was smaller than most, but no less menacing. The flesh and scales gave it a beauty he would have never been able to imagine. He stepped closer, studying every piece of the beast.
Its maw was closed, so he could not see its teeth. How large would they be? He wondered. He was only a foot away from the dragon and looked right at what would have been its right eye. What color would it have been? While he was in the middle of trying to figure out any of the answers, his whole world suddenly changed.
The dragon moved but an inch, but its eye opened. The large bronze slit looked like a portal into another world. The radiation of power that he had felt increased tenfold and he fell back on the ground in shock and admiration. The beast snorted and a little steam came out of his nostril. The bronze eye looked saddened and pained and for some reason he understood what he was asked.
He slowly stood up and walked back over. He stretched out his hand towards its snout, only stopping about an inch from it. He looked towards the dragon in confirmation and it weirdly seemed to nod. He let his hands touch it and for the briefest of seconds it seemed to nuzzle into his hand as it closed its eye. This all changed when he opened it again. Suddenly, he was somewhere else.
It was dark. He smelled smoke and smelled fire and all of a sudden something broke around him. He crawled out of it, opening eyes he didn't knew were closed. Small shrieks from his brothers could be heard and he himself let one out himself. He crawled towards the form of a naked girl, which he in shock realized as a younger version of his aunt. He climbed on her flesh, two others the size of lizards doing the same.
The vision changed. He could see his aunt again. Her hair had been burned off and was only beginning to grow back. She held him and spoke words engrained in his soul. "The green one shall be Rhaegal, for my valiant brother who died on the green banks of the Trident."
More vision changes. Flying through a dessert. People admiring him and his brothers in a strangely ancient city. His aunt receiving the news of Robert's death. He felt her joy and vengefulness in that moment. He saw men on great marble thrones, as he felt proud that he was allowed to sit on Daenerys' shoulder.
He saw men trying to take his black brother and their mother screaming for them to burn them, Dracarys she screamed. Visions of men burning and dying and the smell and the taste of their flesh filled his senses.
Suddenly he was in a dark crypt. He and his cream-colored brother were chained up. They were larger and they were angry. He saw himself snap at their mother's companions. At night they cried for their mother, but she barely ever came. He saw a boy with a red sun on his tunic that smelled like peppers and sand. The boy tried to come closer to him and tried to befriend him. He was not worthy, his dragonfire engulfed the boy.
He saw foreign armies burn under a city and suddenly a sound that seemed to control his mind. He was taken away from his mother and he screamed but couldn't resist to follow a ship with a golden kraken. Then he was in the middle of the sea and suddenly his black brother and mother arrived. They burned the ship with the kraken, freeing him from his mental prison. Together they burned many of the other ships. Another sea battle, an island with a fortress he took control over.
Then he saw a huge army. Its banners were wolves and fish and falcons. His mother spoke to him. She asked them for their help. He and his brothers screeched their support. They flew out. He smelled the burned corpses of men and horses. Suddenly he saw a larger banner with a grey wolf on a white field. Around him were machines that could hurt them and hundreds of four-leggers that shot sticks at him. He could feel their stings on his wings and saw his cream brother get severely hurt. He felt his rage as he burned machines and men alike, while his big black brother went to attack the wolf.
Suddenly, he felt more and more stings and panic engulfed him. He tried to climb higher and screamed for aid. His brothers reacted. He felt their presence and the presence of his mother, but also that of someone else. Someone that was worthy. He screamed again for any of their help as he desperately tried to climb higher. Suddenly a massive pain erupted from his belly and he started to descend. He looked down and saw a much larger stick had struck him. He screeched from pain and despair and tried to wiggle it out, but it wouldn't budge. It had penetrated too deeply.
More and more small pain erupted from all over his body as smaller sticks kept hitting him. Then he received a massive hit to the chest. He fell down from the sky, as everything hurt. He hit the ground and felt himself become weaker and weaker. He heard the screams of his brothers for a while, until suddenly the presence of his mother and big brother disappeared. He heard the sorrowful screams of his other brother but didn't have the strength to respond.
His younger brother felt sorry and ashamed when he flew away, but he didn't blame them. There was nothing for him here and he had seen the wounds of the large sticks that had gone right through his wings. He hoped that his brother managed to escape.
Suddenly all of that went away. His eyes were closed. He felt life slowly slipping away from him. Until he felt a presence nearby. With all of his remaining strength he opened his eyes and there stood a man. He didn't look like mother, but he felt like him. He radiated heat, much more than the other four-leggers did. It was the presence he had felt when he had screamed for help. He wondered who he was and wished to tell him his life's tale.
Suddenly he was back in his own body and he was once again in the dirt in front of the dragon. It looked at him with pain and loss in his eyes, but also with curiosity. He felt connected with the beast. No, not a beast. He was a dragon. He knew he had shown him the most important parts of his life. How, he did not know. He had never heard of Targaryens or dragons doing any of this. Yet, to his knowledge there had never been a Targaryen warg with a dragon before either. Maybe that was the reason?
He looked at the bronze eye and stood up. "I am Jon, … Jaehaerys Targaryen. Do you remember the memory of you mother when she gave you your name? When she named you Rhaegal, after her fallen brother Rhaegar?"
The dragon blinked. "I am Rhaegar's last living son. He married a wolf and I was born and hidden away after his death." The dragon seemed to accept this, but at the mention of the wolf a flash of fear went through his eyes. He remembered the visions and felt sorry for him. He walked back over and stroked his face and the scales of his neck. "I know, I'm sorry. I didn't know back then, but now I know."
Rhaegal seemed to accept this and he simply closed his eyes. He could feel the dragons pain and his loneliness and grief over his lost ones. "Shhh," he told him. "I am here, you are not alone. I will take care of your mother and bury her in the way of our ancestors. I will tell stories of your bravery and that of your brothers to my sons. I will take your body with me and bury it with honor. Your valiance will never be forgotten. You are one of the last dragons that roamed this world. Everybody will fear your memory, I will make sure of that. I promise."
The dragon hissed for the first time. It sounded pained and broken up but, somehow, he knew what it meant. Thank you, Jaehaerys Targaryen.
He held the massive head of the dragon for a long time after. Long after he had felt the power it radiated slowly disappear. He sat there and he wept. He wept for a companion that could have been with him for the rest of his life, if only the cards had been different. He wept for the loss this world now bore, without the majesty of these dragons. He wept for the fate of his father's family and he wept for the stupidity of his aunt and the loss of their dynasty.
He had never felt so connected to his father's side before as he did now, but he would never go back on his promise. The Targaryen line had ended with his aunt. He would take a new name. He would learn his sons and grandsons to be loyal to his mother's memory, a Stark memory, not to that of his father. Yet, they would never forget the latter either. He was a son of both Ice and Fire. He was the song his parents had made, for better or for worse. His children would continue that song, yet the days of the fire were over. They would forever follow their icy forebearers and be true to the North. The fire will remain hidden in their blood for eternity. It will not end, not truly. It will disappear until it is inconsequential, yet something of his father's line would always survive in their blood. That, he owed them all at least.
He stayed there for a long while, looking over the corpse of what could have been his mount in another universe. It was not to be. He could do nothing for the dragon in life, yet he would honor his promises in its death. Finally, he strode over to his horse and road back to their camp. All around him, men were already feasting and drinking to the end of the dragons. He couldn't find it in himself to match their spirits. He was sad and distraught. Whatever the history books would tell, for him today was not a good day.
His melancholy complexion combined with his Targaryen armor earned him more than a few strange looks, especially from the Southerners, but he did not care. He wore it proudly. These were his last days as the last ever member of House Targaryen. A house that had done terrible, but incredible things. He would not hide anymore. It would all end soon as he took a new name, until then they had to suck it up or, if they didn't, they could take their problems up with Blackfyre instead.
He walked into the command building without saying a word. Everyone looked up, but none dared to say a word about where he had been or why he was late. Robb welcoming him with a nod and immediately continuing was enough to shut them all up.
He listened to the losses of the battle and what had happened everywhere. The Vale had lost the most soldiers. Their cavalry had been decimated by the chaos after the dragon attack. The dragons hadn't even killed that many, less than a hundred riders in total. Yet, the chaos of horses trampling and burning had caused a stampede that had killed many hundreds and wounded even more. Many had also deserted the battlefield then, but they were now returning to the camp in shame. The Vale had also taken the brunt of the initial fighting with the Unsullied. They had to endure their spear throws, as well as a long time battling their formation.
The Riverlanders and Stormlanders were much better off, the latter losing parts of their cavalry in the same chaos the Vale had but their infantry remaining largely intact against the Freedmen. The Northern troops had for once gotten the best of it. His quick charge against the Freedmen had disintegrated their line and the melee before that had heavily favored their heavy armor against their opponents.
During the last final attack, the Unsullied has charged without care for their own lives and had been cut down by swords and arrows in droves. Seven thousand had died for less than five hundred casualties on their own part. It shocked him to hear that they had almost succeeded in getting to his brother, but all had turned out well enough. Greatjon heroically recalled the fight against Ser Barristan Selmy, a fitting end for a legend of the sword.
He shut of his mind when the tale of how the dragons went down was told. All he heard was that all in all their casualties were acceptable. Around four hundred archers and artillery crew, together with less than a hundred heavy infantry had been killed or very severely wounded in the back lines. He felt disgusted when everybody cheered they would take that for two dragons and the Dragonqueen any day.
After the battle, they had sacked Daenerys' camp. There they had found over a hundred Freedmen sick in their beds. After a few interrogations it seemed the Essosi couldn't stand the climate or food here. Apparently, it had been far worse on the Stepstones, which finally explained her long delay on the island before her invasion. She had only left after most of her "children" had either healed or perished from their ordeal.
Those Freedmen that had managed to escape had scattered to the south and east. Come morning, they would be hunted to extinction. There was no place for them here or anywhere else. They could not serve in the Night's Watch, as they neither spoke the language nor respected the culture. Every single one of their opponents would die, except for those of Westerosi descent that accepted the black. They were few and many prominent onces had been killed in the fighting, including Lord Sunglass and Ser Jorah Mormont. The latter's body would be brought to Bear Island and laid to rest with his father, out of respect for the latter.
However, when discussing noble casualties his world shattered once more. Not many nobles had died, as most casualties were footmen or archers. Only the Vale had suffered many. The heirs of Houses Redfort and Waynwood, staunch supporters of Lord Harrold, had died. Lords Dutton and Ruthermont had also perished. As had many younger sons, nephews or cousins from many of the Vale houses. Among them Ser Andar Royce's young cousin, showing that nobody had been spared.
The noble casualties from the Riverlands were minimal. A Blackwood brother of the late Lord Tytos had been killed, as well as minor members of lower lordly houses.
The Stormlands' only memorable death was Lord Swann. He had died with the cavalry, but no others had been mortally wounded.
The North's noble losses were small, yet the losses would be heavily felt. Lord Flint, good friend to the Greatjon and one of Robb's loyal supporters had succumbed to his wounds. A few Locke and Flint cousins had also died, but none of them had shattered his world. What had, was the news that his mentor Ser Wendel Manderly had died. The man had saved him from Lady Catelyn in Winterfell by bringing him with him. He had thought him more than he could remember and together they had gone on many adventures all across the Bite and beyond.
He had quickly walked over to Ser Wylis Manderly, who was standing with Harmond Umber and Ser Donnel Locke. He silently grabbed the man in a hug and together they mourned his brother in silence.
During the whole meeting he hadn't said a word. He had gestured to his commanders, Domeric and Harrion, to explain what had happened in his name. The latter had been wounded during a charge against the Unsullied and had broken his arm, but the healers had already looked at it and he would be well again in time.
His silence changed, when they started discussing the spoils of the battle. He didn't care about coin or valuables and who would get what. He never had, but suddenly one of those Southern cunts brought up the dragons. Dragonbone was worth a fortune and he remembered them all they had two full dragons to split open and distribute among them. This angered him beyond belief.
"No," he had simply said. Some had looked weirdly at him, but most hadn't heard or simply ignored him through the commotion. "No, you will not desecrate their bodies even more than has already been done." He lashed out louder to everyone in the room. His tone was cold as ice, coming close to how Lord Eddard had commanded his lords and it allowed no discussion. Yet, his face burned with a heat he had rarely felt. His ferocity clear to all in the room. Was this the famed Wolfsblood? Or was it something else?
Many looked at him in shock, among them Robb. He could see in his brother's eyes that he immediately understood that something had happened, but he couldn't ask him what in front of his lords.
"Why do you care, Snow? You weren't even there when they fell?" Lord Lipps called out. "You will not touch them. That is final." He replied just as cold as before.
"Are you finally starting to care for you own now that they're dead boy? Better late than never, I guess." Lord Peasebury went even further.
His head saw red and it took all of his self-control to stop him from ripping the man's head off. Ghost silently stalked forward towards the lord, yet he bared his fangs in anticipation of his attack. More insults were thrown towards him from Valemen or Stormlanders, while all Northerners and most Riverlanders kept silent. Although many desired the riches the dragonbone would bring them, they knew better to come between a direwolf and his objective.
"ENOUGH!" Robb screamed, accompanied by a loud and low growl from Grey Wind. He looked towards the lords that had insulted him. "The next one that speaks up against MY BROTHER in this manner will lose his tongue."
"Ha, you would incite another war to satisfy the bastard's dragon fetishes? We all knew who he was. He has hid it well until now, but he had to show his true colors sooner or later!" Lord Peasebury spat out again. He realized the man was already drunk from feasting after the battle.
Robb stood up and pushed himself through all nobles present until he was so close to the Stormlord they could probably smell each other's breaths. "I would risk my kingdom for my brother, my lord." He spat out the last two words. "You see, wolves live in packs. You touch one of us, you touch them all. Unless you wish to start a blood feud against me, my house and my entire kingdom I would advise you to apologize to my brother for questioning his loyalties and keep quiet for the remainder of this council. You have said more than enough. I will ask it only once." Robb's voice was as cold as his own, maybe even more so. An icy chill went through the room and all hairs on his body stood up straight
All across the room, men went to their weapons. Northerners preparing to square off against anyone willing to question their monarch's words. Lord Peasebury looked towards his countrymen for help, but Lords Morrigen and Andrew Estermont forced all Stormlanders to keep quiet. Cornered and alone, the Stormlord finally nodded.
He slowly turned towards him. "I'm … I'm sorry Master Snow. It was not my place to question you and I will not do so again." Robb looked at him and lifted an eyebrow to ask if this would do. He silently nodded, not trusting the words that would otherwise come out of his mouth.
"My brother and I accept your apology. Now sit down and shut up, before I have you removed fro this council anyway." His brother said, not even looking at the Stormlord as he walked back to his chair.
"Now, I think we were discussing the possibility of harvesting dragonbone from the fallen corpses. I think it was Jon's turn to speak on the topic." He continued as nothing had ever happened, motioning at him to speak. "However, I think he would like to sheath his sword before doing so. It has come out by accident." Robb looked at him severely. The message in his eyes were clear. I have your back, but you can't do this.
He only now realized he had his hand on Blackfyre. The sword was halfway out of its scabbard and the light shone on its dark Valyrian steel. He exhaled loudly and slowly before putting the sword back and taking his hand off from the hilt.
"These beasts are the last remnants of a majestic and magical world that is now dying. They needed to be destroyed, I always stood by that point. I helped create the plans that managed to take them down. I stood by my king and led the charges that broke my aunt's army. Never was my loyalty in any question. Yet, now that they are dead, I ask respect in their memory. I ask for my aunt to be cremated and her ashes to be scattered on Dragonstone. I ask for the bodies of these incredible and terrifying creatures to be respected and to not tarnish their memories. They were wrongly used by my aunt to wreak havoc and destruction on our peoples and they have paid the price for it. Let them rest now, for they were the last dragons that will have roamed this world."
Many were silent at that. He could see the inner battle on Ser Wylis his face. He respected him wholeheartedly, but the loss of Ser Wendel made it difficult for him to speak up.
"I'm sorry, King Stark, but you can't be serious about entertaining this idea? We would let a fortune get away from us and for what? For the memory of fire-breathing lizards that killed our own? I cannot and will not support this. The coin could help rebuild all that the dragons have destroyed. It would give us the means to rebuild what their fires burned down." The young Lord Penrose addressed his brother.
"I entertain every possible idea, Lord Penrose. As I entertain yours." Robb responded evenly.
"What would happen to the bones anyway? Would or your brother get them all? Just so you can sell them in a few years' time and make a fortune behind our backs?" Lord Donniger spoke up. However, the latter's intervention clearly wasn't well received by either Ser Andar or Lord Harold.
However, many greedy or ambitious lords seemed to agree with the sentiment. "If that's how you feel, I will waive away my and my house's right on any of the spoils of the battle for a portion of the corpses. I do not wish to steal from any of you and recognize the value these bones might possess. Maybe we could simply keep the skulls?" The last question was clearly aimed at him.
The whole discussion disgusted him, but he understood his brother's concerns. They had alliances and appearances to maintain. He had to give something. Yet, he would do all he could.
"Brother," he addressed Robb. "I have fought in all of your battles. I even led your host for a while when you were incapacitated in the Westerlands. I have never asked you for anything and won't do it ever again if you grant me this, but I will ask for something now. I will relinquish my requests concerning the bones of the largest dragon, Drogon my late aunt's mount. I will also relinquish my request for the bones of the last remaining dragon that is still out there, may his victor enjoy his spoils. Yet, I ask that their skulls remain intact and that they are sent to me. So, I can mourn them in the name of my dead family. Never will they roam Westeros again or claim or burn anything, yet their existence must never be forgotten. They were the last remnants of the empire of Valyria. I would also request the third dragon's body to remain unharmed. I will ask this of you and nothing more until my dying breath."
He went to his knees and bowed his head to show the severity of his request. Many among the room looked at him in shock. "Why would you want the green dragon?" Lord Bracken asked perplexed. He simply looked up at the Riverlander. "His name was Rhaegal. He was named after my late father and he succumbed to his wounds in my arms after the battle. Just like Ser Barristan, he fought and died valiantly. He deserves the same respect the white knight got."
Now all started talking to each other. Lord Arstan Selmy, formerly one of the greedy lords, looked towards him with resignation. He seemed to wonder if he could get respect for his dead kinsman without offering the dragon the same. "He wasn't dead after all of that?" Ser Wylis asked him. "No, he wasn't. He was mortally wounded and was hanging on for dear life when I found him. I stayed with him for hours, until long after he had died. I wish to give him the burial a wondrous creature such as him deserves.
"You were with it? You said you even held the monster? How come it didn't kill you?" Smalljon asked.
"I don't think he could have, even if he wanted to. He was far too weak. He was dying. However, I don't think he would have, if he had the chance. He was no monster. He was a powerful creature. He didn't kill for sport, he killed to serve his mistress just like I killed to serve my king. I stayed with him in the end. No one, person or creature, deserves to die alone. He had to die for all of us to be safe, I understand that. Yet, I was thought to honor the valiant dead, even those on the other side. I was raised with the story of how the Sword of the Morning died fighting Lord Eddard. Did he leave his corpse to rot in the dessert sun of Dorne? No, he buried him with respect and brought his sword back to his family so they could mourn him and stay true to their traditions. That is what I plan to do, nothing less and nothing more."
This story seemed to silence all of the Northern lords. When he invoked his father's memory all of them seemed to accept his explanation. So did many others from the Vale or Riverlands. Lord Dondarrion nodded along as well, his bonds to House Dayne well known by now.
"Are you sure this is what you want Jon?"
"Aye!" He replied proudly, as he lifted his head to look into his eyes. He was still on his knees before him.
"So be it. Does anyone challenge this idea? The bones of the black ones will be divided amongst the nobility of the Vale and the Stormlands. My own vassals will be compensated with other rewards. The rest of the spoils will be distributed as stipulated earlier, whilst my share will go to my vassals." Robb spoke, as he looked around the room.
None dared to say a word. Many greedy lords looked amongst themselves, trying to find support to challenge the offer. Suddenly, an unexpected voice spoke up. "Dragonstone accepts the offer and I'm sure my brother and cousin would do the same if they were here. I also accept the ruling for the Dragonqueen. I will scatter her ashes across the courtyard of Dragonstone myself, if you ask it of me. She was also distant kin of me and mine. Just like you are." The new Lord Gendry Hammersmith stepped forward. Their eyes met and he nodded in respect. The blue-eyed lord reciprocated the gesture.
"I think Lord Gendry is right. The Queen would want it so. The Stormlands accept the ruling." Lord Andrew Estermont spoke up to the shock of many of the Stormlords. However, both lords had distinguised themselves during the battle, especially Lord Hammersmith. Already tales were told about him being as great a warrior as his late father. All Stormlords had been made to remember Robert when they saw Lord Gendry swing his hammer with deadly precision.
"House Tully accepts it as well. We have a lot to thank from Jon and his deeds. We will accept it in his name and the memory of the late Lord Eddard." Ser Brynden spoke up, challenging any of his countrymen to speak up against him.
"The Vale will not contest the idea either." Lord Harrold spoke up. Ser Andar looked shocked at the sudden outburst but seemed content with the outcome, as did the older lords that had known his father.
Robb nodded at them all. "The North?" He asked as he looked to his lords. "I accept." Lord Harrion Karstark responded immediately. "House Umber accepts as well." Smalljon spoke up, his father looking at him weirdly. In a weird twist of fate, the giant simply sighed and nodded. Many of the other nobles did the same, Domeric even going as far as to physically come stand by his side in a show of support.
"Then it is settled. Is there any other news?" His brother ruled.
"Aye, a few letters arrived from Storm's End during the battle. I had them put aside and forgot about it until now." Ser Wylis spoke up, as he walked over to give the unopened bundle to his king. Robb accepted it in silence. He opened it and looked at its contents.
"Willas Tyrell has defeated the Florents and their allies under the walls of Highgarden and captured its lord. A few days before, Lord Tarly managed to defeat House Crane and capture Red Lake in the process. It seems the Reach civil war is almost at an end." He sighed.
"Do we need to fear anything?" Lord Morrigen asked.
"No, their armies are scattered, battered and far away. Moreover, they still have the Ironborn to deal with. Their troubles aren't over just yet."
"It is better that way. A good Reachmen is a dead Reachmen." The old lord remarked, many of the Stormlords agreeing with the sentiment.
"Any other news?" Lord Bracken asked.
Robb went through the papers. "It seems the conflict in the Westerlands is worsening. Tywin is becoming bolder and so are his opponents. Many houses that desperately wanted to stay neutral are turning their backs on him now, while his reprisals are becoming extremer by the day."
This brought a grin on all their faces. "Let those fuckers kill each other. By the time we arrive, only the gold will be left for us to grab." The Greatjon boomed out to the joy of many.
"The first batches of prisoners have successfully arrived at the Wall. They have sworn their vows and are being distributed between its garrisons under the watchful eyes of Lord Commander Denys Mallister and my forces."
"It also seems Lord Deddings has been raiding the northeastern part of the Reach to feed his forces and the people. His chevauchées are seemingly decimating the territories around Tumbleton. He reports that by the time we get back a feast will be prepared for us in King's Landing, as the city will once again be filled to the brink with food." Robb grinned and many around them shouted their support. This solved the situation of King's Landing for a while, weakened the Reach in the long term and helped prepare for any upcoming campaigns they would launch in the Westerlands. Spoken of taking the initiative.
"Not a bad idea, if I'm honest. Maybe we could do something similar on our way back?" Robb remarked, as he looked to his surrounding lords. Many of them grinning at the idea of easy loot and food to feed and pay their people and troops.
"Lastly, it seems the fourth batch of food has arrived in Moat Cailin. One hundred tons of grains and oats and the salted carcasses of 500 cattle and 200 sheep. The shipment will be distributed through parts of the lands of Houses Stark, Cerwyn, Dustin, Ryswell and Tallhart with emphasis on Wintertown and Barrowton. The first food shipments from Braavos are also arriving in White Harbor and will soon augment the stocks of Houses Manderly, Locke, Flint, Woolfield and Hornwood." This news was met cheers from many of the Northern lords.
"Future shipments by cart are being planned towards Deepwood Motte, Last Hearth, the Mountain Clans and shipments will continue on the east coast from White Harbor to Skagos. Later on, even more will be distributed all around the North." He finally looked over towards Domeric. "Your lands will be supplied on our way back once Ramsey Snow is dealt with. You will get extra supplies then. We can't risk strengthening his position." The young Lord Bolton simply nodded.
"Where do you get all of that food?" A Valelord asked.
"The first shipments came from the stocks of Houses Frey and their vassals. It seems that Late Lord Walder was as greedy when it came to food as he was about anything else. Their stocks could supply their lands for many more winters. Everything deemed unnecessary for now has been siphoned off by Lord Cley Cerwyn and sent North to help our people from starvation. Other caravans now will come from loot from the Westerlands and others. Stocks in the Riverlands are being replenished with them as we speak. Ships will also come from Braavos for the duration of the winter, as a trade agreement with them has been struck before."
This led to a lot of murmurs between the Vale and Stormlords, as they realized how Robb was making his kingdoms profit from the war and how he was already rebuilding while still in the Stormlands. None of the Northerners or Riverlanders cared for their small outbursts, as they proudly looked upon their monarch. Even the former Crownlords looked happy. With the situation in King's Landing under control, the strains put on their own stocks would probably lessen considerably.
"A new era of prosperity is near, my lords. Soon, we will all get to enjoy the only real benefit of war: the peace that comes after it."
This is all for this chapter!
You have to excuse my delays. It has been a crazy couple of weeks.
This wraps up the Targaryen story arc, as well as Jon's development into who he was meant to become. He does bond with Rhaegal, but not in a heroic twist to change the tide of battle. He bonds in the midst of pain, loss and soon after the dragon dies. Jon will do everything to preserve his body as good as possible and almost creates a rift in the alliance because of it. Robb, together with impulsive actions from Lords Gendry and Harrold, help him get most of what he wanted.
You also get an insight of what is happening elsewhere in the world and how Robb is already trying to strengthen the North even if he can't go home yet. His efforts will slowly bear fruit, as they can save the lives of (tens of) thousands during the present winter.
Thank you for your patience and support.
Fannic.
PS: This is a monumental moment in this story's history. I received my first real hate mail and threats after Chapter 60. It was of course posted as an anonymous review, which I didn't accept due to it being full of profanities. I laughed with it for days though, so thank you for a good laugh. I can say that your wishes haven't come through: my car hasn't blown up yet and neither has my house been set on fire. The negative energy you have send my way also hasn't arrived yet, could you maybe send it again? Now in all seriousness: I accept all constructive criticism/questions, but this was pathetic. Go out and get a life buddy, I wish you the best with it.
Reviews:
- Fyandika: It went somewhere, but Winterfell is a bit farfetched no?
- George Christian810: I answered in PM because the reply got too long.
- Thyrokio: That was exactly how Robb planned it, although she did more initial damage than he expected. In the end, his main infantry frontline came of nearly unscathed and destroyed her army, while she was too busy walking in his trap.
- AJ Granger: Thank you! Jon still managed to bond with the dragon in the end. As I mentioned, it was a two-chapter moment. Exactly, but not only that. Ending the Targaryen dragonlords sadly also means ending dragons. Viserion needs to be dealt with before someone tries to claim him and thinks himself another Aegon the Conqueror. After the Doom of Valyria, there were a handful other dragonlords alive. All were killed (or marched into the ruins, never to be seen again) except for the Targaryens with a reason.
Thank you so much. It has been a lot of work, but it is far from finished. We still have a lot to experience.
- Poly19hum: Thank you!
- Finkarhu: You're welcome!
- LordRhyolith: Thank you so much! No, he certainly wasn't blessed. He nearly died. He still isn't out of the woods yet, more fights will need to be had before he can go home but don't expect major pitched battles anytime soon haha those are mostly over.
- Cliff West: Thank you!
- Greatazuredragon: Especially without real armor … her ancestors had hard boiled leather or armor on when riding their dragons, she never had any.
Exactly, but most 17-year olds aren't really known for patience, neither was she. Thank you!
- Snoperek: Thank you! There was a lot of action, yes. :D He will want to move back to the Riverlands, stabilize the region and go to the Westerlands yes.
- Foxy-Floof: Well life, power and freedom got to her. It might also partially be the madness.
- The1WriterFormerlyKnownAs: Thank you! Night King/White Walkers have been scrapped from the original timeline, because the whole arc would bring nothing to the story by now. Without JonxDany and/or Jon at the Wall there is no character development just death and slaughter and low quality drama.
- Rebfan90: Thanks!
- RoseLockhall: Thank you, but it's not over yet! It hadn't been suggested actually, thank you for the recommendation.
- Force Smuggler: Thank you!
- Farroljgk: Thank you so much for the kind words and it's my pleasure to give the replies. I don't think the kingdom would splinter, as Bran would be seen as both a son of Winterfell and Riverrun (even raised there for a time). Jon could probably hold the Northmen and Riverlanders together as leader of the army (and regent?) in Bran's name. However, the alliances with the Stormlands and Vale, as well as the allegiance of the Crownlanders could maybe be lost with his death.
What did you think of the post battle? More on Euron, the ironborn and the Reach in the next few chapters.
- Phineasn: Thank you so much!
- Andy2800: I replied to your questions in PM.
- Randver: Thank you! Yes, but he would have also needed to keep his emotions in check. Marrying Jeyne was a fatal mistake. Here the causes for such behavior (the idea of Rickon and Brandon dying, coupled with a forced betrothal and loneliness) weren't present and that also makes a big difference.
- Nex Praenuntius: No, it was never abandoned nor will it ever be! Thank you so much for the compliments and I'm so glad you enjoy my work. The Stark girls will come more into the picture again now as the wars in the South start to end. By now, they are older than they were at the end of canon. If Robb and/or Jon get back home, they will not find the same Arya and Sansa they left.
The bond between brothers is one of the most fun and organic things I ever wrote. You can see it again here. Robb would risk everything to help Jon. No one should ever doubt if Robb would risk starting a war for him. Olyvar Frey was kept alive by Robb, as he saved his life. Robb feels indebted to his friend, no matter his familial relations.
- Guest1: Thank you! If that was too packed, I'm afraid what'll think of this. It's quite a lot of information in this chapter.
- Guest2: There was no other way for her to end in this setting. Robb was too prepared, and she was too out of touch with Westeros.
- Guest3: Sorry for the long wait, hope you enjoyed it.
