OUR CHOSEN PATHS
THE FLAME REBORN
16 years before
Victory. We did it, we have endured. We have triumphed.
Edelgard observed from the battlements of Storm's End as in the distance, the great army of the Reach had just dismantled the camp and many began to disappear on the horizon. After almost a year trapped there, the siege had finally ended. The rebel army, led by Lord Eddard Stark with banners of all imaginable colors, had reached the fortress that very morning.
They had won, there was no doubt about it. All of them, the entire class of the Black Eagles, had managed to survive, along with Stannis and most of the garrison. Despite being relieved and grateful, something was missing. Mace Tyrell had lowered his banners and bent the knee, but not to them, but to Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. Eddard Stark, who had been hundreds of miles away from the siege throughout the war. Eddard Stark, who surely hadn't had to go hungry for a single day and wouldn't have had to resort to... that. She realized she had started clenching her fists in anger unconsciously, so she made an effort to try to calm down. It was neither the time nor the place to be angry with someone who had come to rescue them from that situation. If she had to hate someone, it was Mace Tyrell, who apparently was going to get away with everything. She gripped the battlement stone tightly. Instead of jumping for joy, her head hurt, and she felt like vomiting. Lately, it happened to her a lot.
"Lady Edelgard," Hubert's voice came from behind her. "Ser Stannis has sent me to fetch you. He is waiting for you in the courtyard, awaiting the arrival of Lord Stark. Are you well? Should I inform him that you won't come down?"
"Aye, I mean no. I'm coming down now. I was just thinking... Did you say Stannis sends you to fetch me? Are you his messenger now?" she asked, perhaps more irritated than she should have been, but she couldn't help it.
"None of that. You know that my loyalty belongs to you alone, now and always. But after, um, the recent developments in your relationship, I thought it appropriate to extend my loyalty to him. To a certain extent, of course," Hubert replied, somewhat surprised by her recent anger.
"Lately, you extend your friendship to too many people, from what I understand."
"I don't know what you're referring to." There was a certain concern in his voice.
"Do you think I don't know about you and Bernadetta? That you had the audacity to reproach me about Stannis when you do the same. Perhaps I should—" What am I saying? "I'm sorry, Hubert. It wasn't my intention to get angry with you. I don't know what's wrong with me. These last days, I've been very tired."
"You haven't offended me, if that's your concern," Hubert replied. "This situation has taken a toll on everyone. It's fortunate that it's finally over."
"True. I'm happy for you and Bernadetta, by the way. But you shouldn't hide these things from me, not from me, understood? It's important that you keep me informed of things like these. Even Caspar found out before me," she said indignantly.
"I figured you'd find out sooner or later, as you have. But if it interests you so much, you should know that I'm not the only one," Hubert justified himself. He bowed and withdrew, leaving Edelgard with the words on her lips.
Not the only one? Don't think you're off the hook, Hubert. I intend to make you spill all the details, and next time, you won't escape me.
She tried to organize her thoughts as she descended the stairs to the courtyard, following the path Hubert had taken earlier, with one hand constantly leaning against the wall to avoid losing balance. The siege might have ended, and perhaps the war that ravaged this kingdom, but that was by no means the end of that chapter in their lives. Despite their efforts, neither Linhardt nor Constance had made any progress in their investigations. She hoped that exploring other parts of this world could be the key to finding a way back to Fodlan, but she didn't have high hopes.
We're all alive. If we can't leave this world, at least we'll stay together. Or so she hoped. That was the only light she saw on the horizon. That and Stannis and the garrison of Storm's End. Just a few hours ago, Stannis had made all the men, women, and children of the castle to swear to protect their secret, and assured them that they would always have a roof over their heads in that place. She appreciated it, but if someone let slip, they could be in serious trouble. For now, she could only trust them all, as she had done for the past few months.
As you trusted Arundel, a voice reminded her in her head, which she quickly silenced.
Most of the castle garrison was present in the courtyard, arranged in formation to greet their liberators. Almost all the men were emaciated, tired, and ragged, but their gazes revealed a determined will, and many even dared to smile. As she passed by them, most gave her a slight but marked nod, and several, like Simon and Donal Noye, also murmured, "Lady Edelgard."
She headed alongside the rest of the Black Eagles, to a discreet but highly honorable place, just behind Stannis and his personal guard. However, before she could catch up to them, Stannis saw her and gestured for her to approach.
"If it weren't for you and your comrades, it would be a victorious Mace Tyrell, not Eddard Stark, entering through those gates right now. History might tell a different tale, but I wasn't the one leading these men to victory. Take your rightful place, at least now," Stannis said with a certain heaviness.
"Whether we were here or not, I believe you would have resisted just the same," she said, standing beside him. "Don't downplay your role. Without you organizing the men, we wouldn't have won either."
Stannis gave her a tired and expressionless look, although she noticed a subtle hint of gratitude. It was challenging to read that man, but not impossible. After all, he wasn't so different from how she had been since... that day.
The massive wooden gate creaked open, allowing the visitors waiting outside the walls to enter. A dozen riders clad in shining armor passed through the gates and reached the courtyard. Comparing their appearance to the battered defenders of the fortress, they almost seemed like gods, enhancing the image of liberators they seemed to want to convey. Two banners fluttered above them, one of a gray wolf on a white background, and the other was the Baratheon banner. It was identical to the one that waved over the castle walls, with one exception. Over the animal's head, there was now a crown. What the messengers had said that morning seemed to be true; Stannis's brother was now the new king. However, her eyes were fixed on the stout man beside the first rider, dressed in green velvet with embroidered golden roses. Stannis spoke so much about him that it felt like she knew him, and seeing him made Edelgard's blood boil with rage.
"Ser Stannis," said the rider at the front. He was a man with a long face, gray eyes, and a chestnut mane. The shadow of a beard adorned his rather unremarkable face. "I haven't seen you since Harrenhal. I'm glad to find you and your men safe and sound. We haven't heard any news from Storm's End in months. We feared the worst."
"Lord Stark. Safe and sound is an exaggeration given the circumstances. I see the Reach's army has lifted its camp. Am I to understand that Mace Tyrell has been taken prisoner?" Stannis said coldly and straight to the point, as if this man were a stranger and not the commander who had liberated them. Like hers, his gaze was fixed on Lord Tyrell.
"Lord Tyrell has bent the knee and sworn allegiance to your brother. And all his sworn lords too. He has been pardoned for his past crimes, like many others." Stannis's teeth ground, and she found herself doing the same, but neither voiced any objection.
"My brother. Hasn't he come with you?" Stannis asked.
"He is in King's Landing, preparing for his wedding. He deeply regrets not being able to come personally," Stark apologized, although his apologies didn't sound entirely sincere to her ears.
"Sure, he does," Stannis replied with obvious sarcasm. "I would offer you bread and salt, but the bread ran out months ago. Still, you are welcome in Storm's End, and I thank you for breaking the siege."
"I've requested that several wagons with provisions be brought to you as quickly as possible. But I'm afraid this celebration will have to wait a bit. I also negotiated with Lord Tyrell the return of the prisoners you took after the last assault to your walls. They have also been granted royal pardon." Eddard Stark waited for a response, but Stannis remained silent. "Ser..."
"There were no prisoners, Lord Stark," Edelgard said, intervening for the first time.
"My apologies, Lady..."
"Hresvelg."
"Lady Hresvelg. Lord Tyrell led me to believe otherwise, including some family members. If they died during the siege—"
"We executed them after the battle," Edelgard began. "Then we stripped them of their armor and clothes and placed their bodies in the dungeons, covering them with salt from head to toe. As the days went by, we chopped them up, roasted them, and finally ate them. Those who started to rot, we impaled in front of the walls, as you've probably seen." To her surprise, confessing it aloud was easier than she expected. It had been atrocious but necessary. It was a matter of life or death. When she finished the sentence, Eddard Stark's face was as white as his banner. Beside him, Tyrell was red with anger.
"My cousin... That's... You can't be serious," Mace Tyrell managed to say, who had until then kept himself quiet, with considerable effort.
"Very serious," said Stannis with some annoyance. "I gave the order; it was the only option. If Robert had remembered we were here earlier, maybe we wouldn't have reached that point, but that's how things are."
"I should have you executed for such a crime!" roared Mace Tyrell. Without even trying to restrain herself, Edelgard unsheathed the dagger hanging from her belt and pointed it at the arrogant man. Before she could try to attack him and pierce that filthy neck of his, however, hands grabbed her.
What followed was a constant exchange of reproaches and accusations between Eddard Stark, Stannis and Mace Tyrell, escalating as the minutes passed. Threats from one side were met with accusations of treason, or even worse, from the other. Didn't that arrogant lord understand that their sacrifice was what had won them the war? That the true enemy was the man beside him? Soon, she found herself involved in the argument, and the riders who had arrived with Lord Stark, along with some of the soldiers closest to the brawl, were also dragged into it. Ferdinand, who was usually a calm man, argued fervently with one of the Northerners, and Caspar, though weakened after months of malnutrition, knocked several teeth out of a man with a punch to the mouth and attempted to go after Tyrell himself. Fortunately, it didn't escalate further, as Lord Stark and Stannis decided to continue the discussion in the latter's office, and Mace Tyrell went back to his retreating army. However, the tension between the garrison and the Northerners lingered in the air, to the point that when Stannis and Eddard Stark returned, it was decided that the celebrations in honor of the victory would be held separately.
When night fell, and it was time for the banquet, the great hall of Storm's End couldn't hold another soul. Maester Cressen had ordered all available tables in the castle to be brought in, and then makeshift ones were improvised with boards, barrels, and other items. Stannis had decided that the entire garrison would dine inside, except for those assigned the night watch.
Edelgard and the rest of the Black Eagles had been assigned a place on the dais, although Hubert vehemently protested the position he had been given, between Donal Noye and Davos Seaworth, both newly appointed knights. There weren't many members of the nobility among the garrison, as most had joined Robert Baratheon in the war, and most of the knights had been anointed by Stannis that very afternoon when the siege was declared over.
Wherever she looked, the hungry men devoured the food Lord Stark had provided as if it were the last they would ever taste, despite Cressen's pleas for moderation. Edelgard didn't blame them after what they had suffered, but she could only take a few bites before feeling the urge to vomit.
"You've eaten very little, my lady," Ser Donal Noye noticed. The once robust man was now just a shadow of his former self, but he still retained a certain strength. "I admit it's not the best meat I've tasted, but... I'll ask the cooks to serve you another portion. With all this commotion, they might not have cooked it well for you."
"Don't worry. I'm just a little tired, nothing more. Besides, I ate a lot earlier," she replied, although she knew what she had said wasn't entirely true.
It's not remorse, she told herself. It's a bit late for that.
"If I may be so bold, it's something natural in your condition, my lady," said Ser Davos kindly. "My wife experienced it on more than one occasion, although each time had different complications."
"I'm sure," she replied. The newly appointed knight had told her about his wife and children in the outskirts of the capital, and given his former occupation, she was sure it wasn't the first time he had seen someone with nothing to eat. The fact that that good man's family could have gone hungry so many times ate at her from the inside. And surely, there were many more like him.
Even now, she thought, looking at her half-filled plate, I'm luckier than many. It's not fair. In this land without crests, why? Why are there still knights and lords living in opulence while the rest suffer?
"At least now that you're a knight and have lands, your family won't have to go hungry again," Edelgard said to Davos.
"I hope so," he replied. "I still can't believe it, to be honest. I only brought some onions."
"In my opinion, it seems like a small reward," said the blacksmith. "We owe you our lives; we all do. And I heard that Stannis wanted to cut off your fingers. Sometimes that boy has some ideas..."
"I wouldn't have minded, to be honest. It was a fair payment for my life of crime, and besides, it would have been only four fingers. My hand appreciates it, though, I won't deny it. When your friend threatened to cut off Lord Stannis's fingers in response, I must say I felt genuine fear," Seaworth replied, causing laughter from both Edelgard and Donal Noye. Petra wasn't usually very impulsive, but she always expressed her opinion firmly.
"It was the whole hand," Stannis's voice said behind her. "And it's Ser, not Lord."
"Now that he's king, Robert won't take long in naming you Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, ser," Donal Noye said. Their laughter had changed to a serious stiffness.
"That would be normal, aye, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. Lady Edelgard, I'd like to get some fresh air. Will you accompany me?" he said, visibly uncomfortable. Donal Noye and Davos Seaworth exchanged a knowing look that she preferred to ignore.
"In a moment, I have to go to the privy first. I'll wait for you in your study; I think I need to clear my head too," she replied. She left the room, passing unnoticed through the increasingly intoxicated crowd, though not by Hubert, who gave her a glance from his seat but made no move to follow her.
She navigated the labyrinthine corridors of the fortress with a predetermined destination, but not towards the bathrooms as she had loudly claimed in front of Stannis and Hubert. The ancient stone walls drew closer and farther as she moved away from the great hall. When she found what she was looking for, only one person could barely fit in the narrow passage leading to one of the guard posts.
"My lady," Simon greeted her with a bow as he saw her entering the door of the small room. He was alone, with only an unfinished meat turnover as his company on that night. The solitary light of a lantern illuminated the room. Her stomach churned as she noticed that the food was not one of the dishes prepared by Stark's chefs that afternoon but had been prepared for at least a couple of days.
"I didn't expect your visit tonight. From here, I can hear the sounds of the party on the other side of the castle. I'm sure you young ones are enjoying it, but I'm too old for such things," the old soldier croaked. "Are you hungry? Would you like a piece?" His trembling hand slowly reached for the knife to cut another piece of the turnover.
Edelgard didn't give him a second to react. She delivered a strong punch to his stomach and grabbed his neck with the other hand, squeezing it tightly. A little more, and she would have strangled him without the old man knowing what was happening. She moved him away from the knife and slammed him against the wall, with one hand still holding his throat and the other gripping the hilt of her dagger, just in case.
"My lady, what—" Simon looked at her with a face contorted in fear, his eyes wide open and on the verge of tears.
"Enough of nonsense, Simon," Edelgard said, trying not to raise her voice too much. She tightened her grip a bit more, causing the guard to let out a small voice filled with pain. "I know who you are. Don't try to scream, and don't try to deceive me, or I'll finish what Solon started right here and now. I just have to squeeze."
"Ah. Ah. You're suffocating me. Please." Edelgard loosened her grip but didn't let go entirely. She knew how dangerous it could be. The image of Thomas blurred, slowly. His skin became paler, his beard receded, and his gray hair turned coppery. The wrinkles on his skin disappeared as his face became younger and more feminine, transforming into the twisted face with bloody eyes of Kronya.
The woman, or whatever she was, smiled, but Edelgard erased that sinister smile by slamming her head against the stone wall, leaving a small trail of blood and a gash on Kronya's head. However, the blood flowing from the wound wasn't red but a pale bluish color.
"I saw Solon rip your heart from your chest. Why are you even alive? And how do we get back to Fodlan? Answer," Edelgard demanded.
"You tell me. You were the one who brought us to this world, not me. I won't bother you; I'm just trying to survive until you find a way back. Plain and simple."
"As if I would let you live after what you did. Don't forget that we're here because of you. You killed Jeralt, and you also killed Monica, right?" Talking about the redhaired girl brought her back painful memories. She was as responsible for her death as Those Who Slither in the Dark. A sacrifice that had been for nothing.
"It was Solon and Thales, not me. I was just following orders, nothing more. The Fell Star and the Blade Breaker were becoming troublesome; they were going to uncover everything, that's what Solon and Thales told me. And then they betrayed me, like they betrayed you. I am a victim too." Edelgard tightened her grip again.
"So, you're just a victim, huh? Do you deny killing Monica then? Or this man? Do you deny enjoying it when you killed them?" She should have killed her on the spot and then told Hubert to take care of her corpse. This was just a waste of time. So then, why was she letting her talk?
"And what about you? Are your hands clean, Edel? Does your dear lord know what you wanted to do in your world? We're not so different, you and I. Can't we cooperate like we did not so long ago?" Edelgard wanted to squeeze harder and break her neck with her fingers, silence that venomous mouth forever. Instead, she let her go. The pale woman brought her hands to her neck, as if not believing she was still alive.
"Very well, I'll let you live for now. You might still be useful to me, and I hope you remember to whom you owe that miserable life of yours."
"I will remember." She sounded sincere, for better or for worse. "My loyalty is yours, I swear."
"I trust that you know what will happen if you betray us. Hubert is not as merciful as I am. Now tell me, how are you still alive?"
"I have no answer for that. I thought I had died too, but suddenly I woke up in that strange little forest, alive. I saw those soldiers surrounding you, so I hid until I found the opportunity to pass as one of theirs."
"You don't seem to have an answer for many things. I'm expected, so I'll leave you for today, but our conversation isn't over."
"I'll wait here until you need me. My lady." She had regained Simon's appearance, but behind the old face of the soldier, Edelgard couldn't help but see her true and dark image.
She left the room, wondering if she had done the right thing by letting her live. Everything told her no, but someone with her abilities might be useful in the future, especially if they managed to return. Like it or not, Solon and Thales would kill Kronya if she went back with them, so she was her only hope of staying alive. The only thing she had left. How ironic.
"I guess you haven't called me just to take a breath," Edelgard said when she reached Stannis's quarters, several minutes after her conversation with Kronya.
"No. I wanted to inform you firsthand about what I discussed with Eddard Stark this morning. Apparently, my brother has appointed me to his Small Council. In a few days, I will march to the capital, to King's Landing." By the way he frowned and gritted his teeth, it didn't seem to please him. "He has ordered me to build a fleet and take Dragonstone, a small island near the city. It is the last bastion remaining in the hands of the Targaryens."
"And do you want us to go with you?" Edelgard asked, posing the question for him.
"I would lie if I said I wouldn't prefer that, but I understand that you have your own objectives. I just wanted to warn you that while I'm occupied with this, it will be more challenging for me to hide and protect you."
"We'll manage. And since we're talking about this, I also wanted to ask you something." Do it, don't beat around the bush. "If, when the time comes, we can return to our world, would you...?"
"Edie! Congratulations!" Dorothea's sudden shout startled her so much that she brought a hand to her chest, fearing her heart might jump out. The brown-haired young woman, followed not far behind by Linhardt, clung to the door frame as if her life depended on it.
"Dorothea, you're drunk." In her current state, the young woman reminded her a lot of her former mentor, Professor Manuela, after the banquets at Garreg Mach. At least Linhardt seemed sober.
"Let's not talk about me, but about you. When were you planning on telling us?" Dorothea inquired, and even though she was drunk, she seemed mostly upset with Edelgard.
"Tell you what?" If she was angry at her before, this anger had disappeared, replaced by confusion and even a bit of fear. At her side, she could hear Stannis's teeth grinding, a habit he undoubtedly should try to eliminate if he wanted to keep his teeth in a few years.
"That you're pregnant. What else? I had to pry it out of Lin."
"Pry it out? But I'm not..."
"I might be mistaken, Edelgard, but the signs are pretty evident," Linhardt said, totally unaware of the implications. Now that he had started speaking, he retracted her initial impression that he hadn't been drunk too. "Nausea, tiredness, loss of appetite, headaches... I've been discussing it with Cressen, and he shares the same opinion. If it's not too much trouble, how long has it been since-?"
"Oh." Edelgard's mind was assaulted by a thousand different thoughts, all converging on the same point. She glanced at Stannis, who had stopped grinding his teeth and was completely pale, with his eyes wide open. He seemed to be reaching the same conclusion as her.
"Shit".
EDELGARD
"Shit," Edelgard said, unable to contain herself as she watched the comet from one of the balconies of Dragonstone's castle. The tail of the comet tore through the sky like a bleeding wound in the blue heavens.
In the same way that I'm going to tear the fragile peace of this decadent realm, she thought as she clenched the fist encased in a black gauntlet, just like the armor she had specifically chosen for that day. The ornaments and joint pieces were golden, yes, but it was much less flashy than other armors she had seen in that land over the years. She had no doubt that her brothers-in-law would have pieces that would put this one to shame, but it served its purpose without being too ostentatious. That's what she had wanted when she ordered Donal Noye to make it, although the old general had abandoned his former profession many years ago.
"Do I need to bring her before you, my lady?" asked Ser Richard Horpe. His usual pockmarked face looked much more horrible than usual. A horrible bruise covered his left cheek, which kept growing and turning blacker every time he looked at it. Every few seconds, he spat blood and a piece of tooth. Morgan hadn't held back.
"No, I'll go talk to her later. Everything is proceeding as planned. Then you can go have Linhardt look at that wound, ser."
"My lady," called a tired voice before they could continue the conversation. A voice she didn't expect to hear that day. He shouldn't even be awake at this hour. What am I saying, he shouldn't even have been able to come down the stairs.
"Cressen. What are you doing here?" Edelgard asked. The old maester of Dragonstone, who had followed them there from Storm's End, was almost eighty years old. His hip was fragile, and just going down the stairs of the tower should have been torture for him.
"A white raven from the Citadel has arrived. Summer has come to an end. I was going to see Lord Stannis to report it, but the guards prevented me. They said the orders came from you," he said. They should have stopped him and taken him back to his chambers. I don't have time to deal with this, not now. The old man had been good to her all those years, and he was almost like a grandfather to her children, but that wouldn't make her change her mind.
"That's correct. I'll explain everything to you later, Cressen. Now, if you'll excuse me..."
"Pylos sent some ravens this morning. He thought I was asleep, but I managed to grab one of the letters and read it quickly without him noticing. It was addressed to Storm's End, but not to Ser Cortnay Penrose, and it was signed by you," the maester said. His hand kept trembling. "You know what I'm talking about. Edelgard, what are you doing?"
Fulfilling the promise I made to a girl. A girl I killed long ago.
"What needs to be done. I don't have time for this; take him away," she said, and instantly a couple of Ser Richard's men grabbed the maester by the arms. "Gently. He's already very old and I don't want anything to happen to him."
"This is madness! This can only bring the destruction of all of us! Haven't you thought about Stannis? Haven't you thought about Edrik, Morgan, and Shireen?" the maester roared as he was taken away. Of course, I have, old man, but that doesn't change anything. We all have our obligations.
"Have Edrik and Shireen given you any trouble?" she asked Ser Richard when the maester had disappeared from her sight.
"None, although they've asked questions. Soon rumors will start circulating throughout the castle, and they won't take long to spread to the city."
"We must hurry then. Secure the doors. Let no one in or out. Where is my husband?"
"In the Painted Table Chamber, my lady. I changed the guards so that Hal and Will would be his escorts today. They are loyal, as you ordered."
"I don't doubt it. Although you could have assigned more capable fighters. Anyway, it doesn't matter now. You go to the main gate and await further orders. I will go have a chat with my lord husband. Oh, and double the guard for Morgan; I don't want any more incidents."
"I serve and obey, Lady Edelgard." The knight gave a slight bow and went quickly to carry out the assigned orders, with one hand still on his jaw.
Loyal, though too passionate about violence. Maybe I should have assigned someone else for that task, but at least Ser Richard seemed to have stuck to the plan despite the setbacks. She would have to settle for that.
To be honest, she hadn't counted on Morgan causing any trouble either. The unpredictability that arose in these types of operations were inevitable, but she didn't expect them to arise so soon. Intent on cutting off any other whims that the day might hold, she headed promptly to the Stone Drum. The journey through the dark corridors of the fortress was very quiet and uneventful, as at that hour, much of the castle was still asleep. For everything to remain as peaceful as that, everything had to be completed as quickly as possible. If someone raised the alarm... well, all that tranquility could turn into a bloodbath at any moment.
The stout Hal and Will, whom other guards called Hoofface due to the scar one of them had left on his face, stood guard in front of the door of the gloomy chamber. They seemed somewhat uneasy, but she found no sign in their appearance that they might have been involved in a fight.
"My lady," they greeted her upon seeing her. "Lord Stannis is inside. He requested that no one disturb him, except for you. The maester also came, but we didn't let him pass, as you ordered."
"Good. Has my lord husband done anything out of the ordinary?"
"Not that I know of," replied Will. "Is it time, my lady?"
"Yes. But I'll handle it myself," she said, touching the dagger hanging from her belt. "Don't enter unless I tell you, and needless to say, don't let anyone else in either."
Stannis was seated at the Painted Table, contemplating the immense map that Aegon had ordered carved so many centuries ago, sitting in the same chair that the Conqueror had once occupied.
"So, you've come. And armed, I see," Stannis said upon seeing Edelgard. "The red woman said that today would be a day when the foundations of the world would tremble. I didn't want to believe her."
"That woman talks too much," she replied. And sees too much. Maybe I should have kicked her out the moment she set foot on the island, but that woman has power, that is undeniable. How far can she see? Does she already know how all of this will end? These were questions she wasn't sure she wanted the answers to.
"True, but too often she's not entirely wrong. Why have you come?"
"I haven't come to harm you, if that's what you fear," she replied. Please, don't resist. "I've only come to talk."
"Yet you're dressed in armor you haven't worn in almost a decade, when we sailed to the Iron Islands for war. Strange attire for a conversation," Stannis retorted mockingly. "I think we've been together long enough to be honest with each other, don't you think?"
"Yes, I suppose so," she admitted reluctantly. This was going to be as difficult as she had expected it to be, no matter how mentally prepared she was. "If you resist, I'll subdue you and have you locked up; you know I'm capable of that. But first, listen to what I have to say."
"Do you hate me so much?! Have you hated me all these years?! I'm not stupid, Edelgard. I know you've given the order to detain all ships crossing the Gullet in the harbor for days. I know you've sent Davos and Caspar to Essos to recruit mercenaries. And I know the garrison has orders to betray me and take the castle at any moment. I'm not as blind as you think," Stannis complained, slamming his fist on the table, red with anger. "You've always been able to inspire the hearts of men, something I've never been capable to do. Is there anyone in this castle still loyal to me? Or are they all loyal to you?"
You've always inspired me, Stannis. Since you refused to surrender at Storm's End when my will was beginning to falter, I've never stopped admiring you.
"No, I don't hate you. I never have. Now listen to me and let me explain. This has nothing to do with you. At least, it doesn't have to," she replied, somewhat taken aback by her husband's outburst.
"Why, then?"
"Why? And you ask me? Look around you, Stannis! For almost twenty years, I've tried to give your world a chance, I really have, but I can't continue like this. I thought in a world without crests, nobility would disappear, that people would finally be free, but I was wrong. This world is as rotten as mine was, and I can't let it continue like this, not when I have the power to change it."
"The world has been like this for centuries, Edelgard. Millennia even. You can't change it," Stannis said, somewhat calmer, though his anger still showed on his face.
"I can. I can, and I will. I thought that with you by your brother's side, you could change things, but Robert is just as corrupt as the rest of the nobility in this realm, and you don't have enough power. And when Joffrey succeeds him, it will be even worse. The longer I wait, the more people will continue to die oppressed."
"Rebelling against the Iron Throne. What you intend to do will bring war to the kingdom. Thousands will die, you know it well."
"Yes, and I accept it. But it's a price I'm willing to pay. If, with tens of thousands dead in a war, I can prevent the hundreds of thousands who will suffer and die from injustices over the coming decades, I'll be satisfied. Tell me, how many have died during Robert's reign, crushed by the yoke of this rotten system, unseen, forgotten? How many will die under your nephew's tyranny when he succeeds? And believe me, that won't take long. Every day that passes, Cersei becomes more and more ambitious and more fed up with your brother."
"Joffrey won't inherit the throne," Stannis pointed out firmly, furrowing his brow. "He's not Robert's son."
"What?" Edelgard asked confused. That statement had bewildered her.
"He's Cersei and the Kingslayer's son, just like his brothers. Jon Arryn and I were investigating it when they murdered him. I still don't have solid evidence, but I have no doubt."
"But... why didn't you tell me? You know Hubert could have helped." And, more importantly, how was it that this had been right under her nose, and neither she nor Hubert had noticed?
"I didn't want to put you or the children in danger. Although, in light of what's happening, it was clearly a mistake." The harsh laughter that followed seemed anything but joyful.
"It doesn't matter now," she concluded. It's already too late for this to change anything, although it might still help. The mere doubt about the legitimacy of Cersei's children will destabilize the Lannisters. "Even if Robert were still alive long enough for you to inherit, assuming he didn't have more children with a new wife, it would be too late." Suddenly, she realized something Stannis had said before. "Did you say you know that Caspar and Ser Davos are in Essos? How did you find out?" If there was a part of the plan that was more delicate and dangerous, it was that one. Only a very small number of people knew it, and she didn't think they would be capable of betraying her. Please, let it not have been that.
"Davos told me. He wrote a letter for me and gave it to Matthos, who in turn gave it to Devan."
"Who then gave it to you," she finished. Now she regretted that Linhardt had taught the former smuggler to write. No, what she really regretted was not foreseeing that Davos might inform Stannis. The Onion Knight was as loyal as they came, she didn't doubt that, but apparently, his loyalty to Stannis was just as unwavering as his loyalty to her.
"You shouldn't direct your anger at him. The letter only expressed his concern, but as far as I know, he's carrying out the mission you entrusted him with."
I'm not angry with him, but with myself. I thought I could trust him. I thought...
"Wait, if Davos told you, then you've known about this for months, and you did nothing," Edelgard affirmed. "Why?"
"What did you want me to do? Order you all to be imprisoned? I'm not even sure that would have been possible," he said dejectedly. "What would I have told Morgan, Edrik, and Shireen? That their mother is a traitor, and I had to execute her?"
"When I met you, that's what you would have done. You would have done it now, too, if it weren't me behind it all. If I didn't tell you anything, it's because I thought you would."
"I guess that makes me a hypocrite. Tell me, El, is there no other way? Is this the only way to create the world you so desperately want?" Stannis asked, standing up. She hadn't noticed before, but he had tears running down his cheeks. His expression left no room for doubt; he was a defeated man.
"I can't think of another," she replied, looking away. She didn't dare to continue looking him in the eyes.
"Then you'll force me to choose. My wife or my brother. My family or my king," he said with a choked voice.
"I'm sorry. I promise I won't let anyone hurt you. When all this is over, I hope you can understand why I did it," Edelgard said. Her eyes were moist. I just hope you can forgive me, but even if you don't, I must do this. Suddenly, Stannis approached and took her hands in his.
"I hope to have the opportunity to do so in the years to come. I'll walk this path with you, El. Whatever the end."
What? Were her ears deceiving her? Why?
"I didn't think... I didn't believe...," she said, melting into a hug. "I didn't think you would choose me." Even a part of me hoped that you wouldn't. "Thank you."
JON
"Is this not what you expected, Snow?" asked Asha Greyjoy when she caught him staring at the coast. She was clad in armor identical to his, black as coal with the exception of an image of a golden kraken on her chest. In her hand, she held her helmet, which, like his, had a somewhat conical shape and a crest almost sharp. It also had a wide, raised, and curved wing that ended in a point both in front and behind, and like the armor, it was as black as the obsidian that was abundant in Dragonstone. It had been almost a day since they had left the port of Enbarr, and the initial excitement of embarking on a great adventure had soon turned into impatience and then into a monotony similar to the rocking of the ship. With the deck and cabins crowded to the limit, he could barely catch a nap during the night. Besides, General Greyjoy had awakened the entire crew as soon as they had sighted land, and the excitement had taken over Jon again, at least until he saw the castle.
"No, General," Jon admitted. "The castle seems so... small from here. Are we sure they dared to defy the crown?"
The castle of Stokeworth, if it could even be considered as such. Overall, it seemed smaller than Winterfell's Great Hall, although several large villages and many plantations and fields could be seen in the surroundings. Certainly, this land was rich, perhaps that was where its power lay.
"They are enemies of the realm, and they must be dealt with, Jon Snow. Those are our orders. I hope your hand won't shake when the time comes; Brienne has spoken highly of you," said Theon's sister with a mischievous smile.
"It won't, my general. I just thought that the number of troops seems a bit excessive. One battalion would be enough to take the place."
The entire royal fleet had left the port of Nuvelle the day before, although groups of ships had left the port and headed north several days earlier. The small fleet consisted of almost two dozen galleys which had separated from the bulk of the royal fleet at nightfall, while the remaining ships had maintained their course toward the capital. Among the rowers, the crews, and the soldiers, that small army would have more than four thousand men, of which half would be soldiers of the Black Eagle Assault Force like him, while the rest would be the crews of the ships themselves.
"It may be so," the general acknowledged. "But Lady Edelgard doesn't want to take any risks. A thousand men would be enough to avoid any unforeseen events; double that will ensure it. Brienne will do the same with Rosby. One can never be too cautious when dealing with traitors."
Traitors. Jon couldn't stop thinking about it since Thomas had conveyed the orders at the Academy. He couldn't believe that someone dared to openly defy the king, especially given the proximity of the castle to the capital. They have to be Targaryen royalists. The Beggar King's arm is long indeed.
While the Black Wind advanced towards land, Jon strolled across the deck, restless, with Ghost at his heels, scrutinizing the shore. Meanwhile, his general shouted orders right and left as if she had taken over the captain's position on that ship. Come to think of it, she almost seemed more like an admiral than a general. A kraken from head to toe, Jon observed. He thought of Theon, and how the closest he had seen him to a ship had been on a visit with Jon's father to White Harbor.
On the shore, in the small port of that village beneath the castle walls, there was nothing out of the ordinary. No detachment to oppose them or any sign that an upcoming ambush. Workers continued with their tasks, fishermen gathered their nets and touted the day's catch, and children ran and played. He saw no merchant ships unloading or loading goods, but that didn't surprise him too much. While the Black Wind anchored along with the rest of the fleet, a small crowd gathered next to the galley, curious. The gangway descended with a creak and a loud thud, and the crowd parted as the soldiers began to form in front of the huts.
"We come from Dragonstone," Asha Greyjoy shouted at them. "We have precise orders from Lord Stannis and Lady Edelgard to apprehend some criminals, and we must quickly head to Stokeworth Castle. Continue with your work; you have nothing to be afraid of." The crowd quickly dispersed after Asha's words, most returning to what they were doing before their disembarkation. Jon noticed that there were no more children playing or watching them as the column advanced toward the stone castle. Those he could see were quickly dragged inside their huts by their mothers, leaving a bolted door behind them. Nevertheless, there were still a few people who waved or cheered as they passed, and more than one soldier stopped for a few seconds to chat with an acquaintance among the people.
"Post guards at the exit of each village we pass through, and arrest and disarm any soldiers you see," the general ordered firmly. "If they resist, you have permission to act as you see fit. Then send several detachments to secure the more distant villages." The orders were quickly made known throughout the column, and several groups of riders bearing the crowned stag banner of House Baratheon and the Black Eagle on a red background departed in all directions. Most of the soldiers they encountered reluctantly accepted being disarmed and having their hands tied, and their eyes reflected only deep confusion. However, there were those who tried to resist. The few who did were harshly beaten until they ended up breathless on the ground, and then they were loaded with chains and taken to the ships. All but one, whose neck was sliced before he could even draw his sword. Jon recognized the soldier who had executed him. He had trained with him once or twice. The corpse lay there, unnoticed by the soldiers in black armor and under the passive gaze of the peasants.
"Do you think they might have fled?" Jon asked Asha, who was walking a few steps ahead of him. "My general," he remembered to add. Apparently, the general had expressly requested that Jon be part of her personal escort that day, which was a very honorable position for a soldier fresh out of training. Nevertheless, he should not forget the great difference in rank between the two.
"It's possible. Or maybe not. They must have seen the ships, but I don't think they will suspect anything. Anyway, we can't allow the news to spread, lest the rest of the traitors have time to organize. You'll understand, Jon Snow," Asha said. "We're almost there; keep your eyes open, and do exactly what I tell you. Don't hesitate."
The wooden gates of Stokeworth Castle loomed before them, tightly closed. Banners with the emblem of House Stokeworth, a lamb holding a golden cup on a green field, waved sadly over the gray stone walls. On the battlements, the castle guards watched them uneasily. At least they're not aiming their bows at us, Jon thought, calming himself. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword. He couldn't remember how long it had been there.
"I bring an order!" Asha shouted loudly, pulling out a rolled-up paper attached to her belt and waving it before the attentive eyes of the guards. "Signed by His Grace, King Robert. We believe there may be traitors within your walls. I must enter and inspect the castle."
The guards began to whisper among themselves, and Jon adjusted the straps of his shield, anticipating what might come. Behind him, the soldiers of the Black Eagle Strike Force had broken the column and were starting to form in front of the walls. If they resist, they have no chance. He didn't know if there would be more reserves in the courtyard, but on the battlements, he could barely see more than two dozen soldiers, most poorly equipped. We'll have to break down the doors with a ram, but as soon as they fall, we'll enter the castle like a wave breaking against the shore, Jon thought. His gaze was steady, but his hand still clung to the hilt of his sword to prevent any trembling from showing.
After a tense few minutes, the watchman finally gave the order to open the gates and raise the drawbridge, which creaked as it invited them into the courtyard, and Jon let out a sigh of relief that he didn't knew he was holding. The guards on the battlements looked at them with nervous eyes as the Black Eagles' troops poured into Stokeworth Castle.
"Relieve those guards on the wall and send them to the courtyard disarmed and bound, along with any others you find. At my signal, take the rest of the castle. Needless to say, put down any that dare to put any resistance," Asha instructed several of the sergeants.
Behind the wall surrounding the keep, there was a stable, kennels, a granary, and a handful of buildings. Stable boys stared at them with wide eyes, and the servants, among whom was a young red-haired maester who bore no resemblance to the elderly Maester Luwin, formed in a line in front of the main tower. An old woman, with gray hair, plump and unattractive, glared at them with furious eyes as they filled the courtyard. She wore an elegant blue velvet dress, and beside her were two other women, younger but with similar features, except that one was as thin as a stick, and the other as fat as a cow. The thin one was accompanied by a blond man completely clad in armor. His receding hairline and a belly that the armor couldn't hide reminded Jon of a poor and decadent version of Jaime Lannister.
"Lady Tanda Stokeworth, I presume," Asha said when they met face to face. "And these must be your lovely daughters and your son-in-law. I am pleased to find you all here. Very pleased indeed."
"The feeling is not mutual," the old woman said. "You come here, threaten me, and arrest my men. Lord Stannis oversteps himself if he thinks he has any authority in my lands. I will inform King Robert of this offense, rest assured."
"We'll see about that," Asha said without losing her smile. "Now this castle and all its lands are under my authority until further notice. Any title you possess is now worthless, Lady Stokeworth."
"Never!" roared the man. "I recognize the crest you wear on your chest. And I recognize you, wench. I fought against your father's men when he rebelled. If there's any traitor in this castle, it is you."
"Watch your tongue, Ser Balman, or you'll lose it sooner than you think. Lady Edelgard and Lord Stannis gave me a new home, and it's to them I owe loyalty. This order gives me the authority to search for dangerous fugitives in your lands. And to do whatever I deem necessary to capture them. Would you like to take a look?"
"Certainly," said Sir Balman, taking the paper roll from her hand and awkwardly removing the tie that held it. "W-What is this?" he asked alarmed as he read whatever was written on that paper. His eyes seemed about to pop out of their sockets. "Is this some kind of twisted joke? You think that we-?"
Ser Balman didn't have time to finish whatever he was saying, as with a quick motion, Asha Greyjoy wielded her axe with both hands and struck a powerful blow to the man's side, who collapsed to the ground in shock. In just a few seconds, the Black Eagle's soldiers halted the bewildered castle guards and servants at swordpoint, impaling anyone who put up the slightest resistance. A couple of guards tried to reach Asha, but four soldiers in black armor surrounded them and thrust the points of their spears into their bellies. One stable boy tried to run only to fall to the ground with an arrow shot from the battlements. The screams and shrieks, both from Lady Tanda and her daughters, were quickly silenced, and in just a few minutes, the crowned stag of House Baratheon and the black eagle waved together over the keep and the castle walls.
"How dare you? By what right?" babbled one of Tanda Stokeworth's daughters, the skinny one, on her knees, trermbling in front of Asha.
"With this one, I suppose," Asha said, waving her axe just as one of the men brought a wooden stump and placed it under Falyse Stokeworth's head. Jon's stomach churned as the minutes passed. He looked at Ghost, by his side, who returned the gaze with those red eyes. I haven't done anything. I haven't unsheathed your sword. I'll tell the king and your father that my hands are clean.
Asha's axe descended brutally, separating Lady Falyse's head from her body with a clean sweep. Her mother looked at her perplexed, unable to utter a word. Beside her, her sister continued to cry and moan. Lady Tanda's head soon joined that of her daughter.
"We can leave the other one; her brain isn't bigger than a nut," Asha laughed. "Most likely, when she wakes up tomorrow, she won't even remember what happened here. It's best for her if she doesn't remember her own name too." If the last daughter responded anything, Jon didn't hear it amidst her sobs as a couple of men held her and dragged her out of the castle. Jon startled when he saw a trembling hand grabbing his ankle. Ser Balman Byrch crawled towards him, bleeding from his side, where Asha Greyjoy's axe had pierced the armor. In the other hand, he still held Asha's paper, now blood-soaked, as he tried to staunch the bleeding.
"Ah, you're still alive," said General Greyjoy. "Finish him, Snow. The day is young and we still have a lot of work to do."
Jon unsheathed his sword and looked the man in the eyes, as his father had taught him and his half-brothers. "If you're going to take a man's life, he deserves you to look him in the eyes and hear his last words. If you can't do that, then maybe that man doesn't deserve to die," Eddard Stark used to say to his children. But in the eyes of that dying man, there was only terror, and no word came out of his mouth except for unintelligible moans.
"Ple—" Jon closed his eyes and lowered the sword, cleanly piercing the man's neck, ending his life as he drowned in a pool of his own blood. He opened his eyes and observed the corpse, but he felt nothing, not a shred of sorrow or joy. The man he had just killed was a complete stranger to him, just a stranger.
I shouldn't have done it, he thought. My father wouldn't have done it this way. This isn't right.
While the general patted him on the back and began to convey new orders to the sergeants, Jon knelt down and tore the blood-stained paper from Ser Balman's lifeless hands. He wanted to know why King Robert had ordered the deaths of those nobles. They didn't seem like traitors, they didn't even know what was happening. But when he looked at the paper, he didn't read any execution order. Instead, he found a long list of names, headed by the king, Robert Baratheon, and at the very end the signature and seal of Lord Stannis and Lady Edelgard. After the king's name came the queen's, Cersei Lannister, and her brother Ser Jaime the Kingslayer, along with the names of her children. The name under these, followed by those of the king's Small Council, chilled his blood.
Lord Eddard Stark. Hand of the King.
EDDARD
The sound of horse hooves woke Ned Stark from a short and restless sleep. That night, he had practically been unable to close his eyes, just like the two previous nights since Vestra had informed him of the news from Dragonstone. Apparently, Lord Stannis and Lady Edelgard had mobilized their armies, and today or at the latest tomorrow, their fleets might present themselves before the city walls.
He got up from bed and stuck his head out of the window to look at the courtyard, where the clash of swords and exercises with straw dummies filled the morning with sounds. Maybe I've slept more than I thought, Ned pondered as he observed the sun high in the sky and the hustle and bustle of the courtyard. Knights commanded their squires to bring them new lances to break on practice dummies or to help them adjust their armor. The damned tournament on Prince Joffrey's name day, though nowhere near as opulent as the one held in his honor, was the least of his problems. At least, he hoped it would be the last time he had to worry about something like that.
"Where are my daughters?" Ned asked Septa Mordane as he had breakfast. Apparently, they had already had breakfast long ago.
"Arya has gone to her dance lessons a few minutes ago. I honestly don't know what that child is doing, but every day she comes back dirtier. I'm not sure if that teacher of hers is the most suitable, Lord Stark. Sansa is with Prince Joffrey and the queen. They invited her to lunch before the jousting begins," the septa replied.
"Go get her as soon as you can," Ned ordered. "It's not a good idea for Sansa to be with Joffrey these days."
"The girl will protest," observed Septa Mordane. "She's very fond of the prince."
"I'll try to explain it to her when the time comes," said Ned. "And if the queen or the prince complain, tell them that the order comes directly from me."
The septa nodded and left through the door as soon as she finished breakfast. Next to Ned, she was the only one who hadn't taken a bite since dawn.
Just an hour later, Hubert von Vestra went to see him in his chambers. Unlike the last time, he hadn't entered through one of those secret passages but through the main door since Ned's personal guard had the order to let him through without any hindrance, even if Ned wasn't present. Besides, he was accompanied by a trio of guards, clad in black armor.
"Lord Stark," he said upon entering. He noticed that on all occasions he had spoken to him, he had never addressed him as 'my lord.' He seemed to only use that term when talking about Lady Edelgard. "It's time. The royal fleet has appeared on the horizon several minutes ago. They won't be long before reaching the port."
"Spread the rumor that it was I who ordered Lord Stannis to bring the fleet to the city. Not a word about the Black Eagles. I leave Ser Jory in charge of my personal guard, Lord Vestra," Ned said.
"Lord Stark, with due respect, I will take on the task of coordinating our men inside the castle," said one of Hubert's men. He was as tall as him but more robust, with dark brown hair and a face pockmarked by smallpox.
"This is Ser Rolland Storm," Vestra explained. "Son of the late Lord Bryen Caron of the Marches. He has commanded Lord Stannis's personal guard for years."
"I don't doubt your worth, Ser Rolland. But my men will accept it better if a familiar face leads them."
"As you wish," grumbled the bastard. "I'll bring my men here to coordinate the attack."
"Good, but wait until Lord Stannis arrives with reinforcements before doing anything. Until then, let your men defend the Tower of the Hand. I would like to avoid bloodshed if possible." Maybe it's not all lost yet. Maybe Cersei Lannister will decide to surrender when she sees how futile the fight is.
About twenty men from his guard awaited him by the stables of the Red Keep, all of them loyal men who had come with him from Winterfell. He hoped they would all survive the long day ahead. In front of them, dozens of servants set up the jousting grounds in the outer courtyard for the small tournament that was going to take place that afternoon.
"Do you want us to double the guard, my lord?" Tommard asked as Ned adjusted his spurs. "The common folk has been quite restless lately."
"It won't be necessary," Ned replied. "They won't dare to attack the Hand of the King in broad daylight." Or at least he hoped so. After the riots in Flea Bottom, he wasn't so sure about that last statement.
The gates of the Red Keep were wide open, and on the battlements, the gold cloaks of Janos Slynt kept watch over the castle entrance. Ned noticed that a similar number of Black Eagle men accompanied the city guard on the ramparts. He had wanted to find a replacement for Slynt before this day arrived, but the man he had in mind had been found dead in one of the alleys of Flea Bottom. Apparently, Jacelyn Bywater, the commander of the Mud Gate and one of the few captains not in Slynt's pocket, was not well-liked among his peers or the common folk. Ned wasn't sure if his death was a result of a mere nighttime brawl or if Slynt had caught wind of his plans, but he preferred not to dwell on it. After all, it wouldn't matter much soon.
When Robert Baratheon had entered the city upon his return from Winterfell, amidst the sound of trumpets and drums, there had been thousands of people in the streets to welcome him with cheers. Children gazed in admiration at the gleaming riders while women blew kisses from a distance. But not on this day. Lone vendors advertised their wares as the hundreds of citizens reluctantly stepped aside, casting disdainful glances at them.
As they left the city's interior, passing through the River Gate, dozens of royal fleet war galleys had already docked, and hundreds of soldiers in black armor began forming lines in front of the city walls and in the alleys formed by the buildings outside the walls. This caught the attention of both the gold cloaks and curious merchants and fishermen. Vestra hadn't exaggerated when he mentioned that the entire Royal Fleet had sailed from Dragonstone. Over a hundred galleys with the crowned stag of House Baratheon flying on their sails would already be moored at the docks, and many more stranded in the shallows as soldiers disembarked in boats. And it wasn't just them; dozens of merchant cogs, large and small, and even a couple of enormous carracks were anchored in the port. This was not to mention the multitude of small fishing boats returning from their work. In the distance, more Baratheon fleet galleys spread along the coastline, closing the bay of the Blackwater River to anyone trying to approach or leave King's Landing.
The houses standing outside the walls were modest, made of bricks with few windows, and everywhere there were as many merchants and sailors as beggars and children. Warehouses, gambling dens, taverns, and cheap brothels were interspersed with the houses. Ned wondered how many of them belonged to Littlefinger and how long it would take the informants of the Master of Coin to report his movements. They were not alone in this; behind the face of every child crossing his path, he couldn't help but see Varys' influence. Sailors from all parts of the world roamed among the stalls, drank wine, and spoke in strange languages. Unlike the rest of the city, the air there smelled of salt and fish.
Passing by the long stone docks reserved for the Royal Fleet ships, he saw dozens of soldiers unloading from a massive war galley, the King Robert's Hammer. Next to it, another ship of similar size, the Emperor Ionius, was finishing mooring. A bit farther away was the ship he was looking for, a formidable three-deck war galley with hundreds of oars. Above the oars was a complete deck of scorpions, and on the upper deck, there was a catapult. It was the flagship of the king's fleet, the Fury.
"Lord Stark!" called a man as he dismounted his steed. "We've been expecting you." It wasn't the first time he had seen that red-haired man. A few weeks ago, he had triumphed in the tournament held in his honor, and for the citizens of King's Landing, he was practically a hero.
"Ser Ferdinand," Ned greeted. He was a bit relieved to see him there, as his mere presence would help calm the crowd's spirits in light of the upcoming events. "Is Lord Stannis on board?"
"Yes, follow me, I'll take you to him. Lady Edelgard will want to see you right away too," he said, leading them across wide wooden planks that led to the upper deck of the ship. He cast a glance at his men as they followed but didn't say anything or order them to stay ashore.
She has come as well, of course.
The waves gently rocked the massive ship, and Ned had to grasp the railings of the stairs to reach the top of the forecastle without making a fool of himself in front of the sailors. It had been a long time since he set foot on a ship's deck, since he left behind the shattered walls of Pyke, and he would have hoped not to have to do it again for many more years. In addition to Ser Ferdinand, a score of Black Eagle guards, men and even some women with their dark cloaks and a double-headed eagle stamped on their armor and swords hanging from their belts, stood guard around Lord Stannis and Lady Edelgard. Near the latter was the woman from the Summer Isles who had visited Winterfell with her so many months ago. Unlike the others, her armor was of leather, and her violet eyes watched his every move.
"Lord Stark," greeted Stannis Baratheon with a slight nod of his head. He wore an ash-gray mail shirt and breastplate, from which hung a golden cloak, the only trace of color in his attire. "Is everything prepared?"
"Lord Stannis," Ned greeted in return. "For now, neither the city nor the castle seem to be concerned about your presence. My guard and the remaining Black Eagles in the Red Keep are barricaded in the Tower of the Hand, awaiting reinforcements."
"That was not the agreed-upon plan, Lord Stark," said Edelgard von Hresvelg, somber. She wore dark armor like her troops, but its trims were golden, just like the large double-headed eagle on her chest. And, of course, it was much more colorful than that of her lord husband. It seemed heavy just to look at it. A crimson cape hung from her, and her pauldrons were adorned with black feathers, which Ned thought resembled those of a crow. "Your men were supposed to secure the royal family and the Small Council."
"If I had done that, a bloodbath would be happening right now in the Red Keep. This way, we can avoid it," Ned replied, sensing the growing tension.
"I trust that Hubert and Ser Roland have been more competent than you and have not paid much attention to your orders. If not, you may have achieved that massacre you were so eager to avoid," she retorted.
Ned had no time to say anything else because suddenly, preceded by a deafening sound, a column of blinding light rose inside King's Landing. From some building in the city, it soared with its celestial glow high above the city's walls and even the walls of the Red Keep itself until it disappeared among the clouds. Ned couldn't take his eyes off it, marveling and horrified at the same time. He didn't know what it could be; it certainly wasn't a hallucination caused by his mind, as everyone present, from his guards to Stannis Baratheon, watched in awe at that phenomenon. Could it be a shipment of wildfire that had just ignited? He hadn't imagined it like this in his nightmares, but those who had seen it described it as both magnificent and terrifying, much like what he had before his eyes. Just a few seconds later, the pillar of light vanished into the air, disappearing as quickly as it had formed, leaving him bewildered.
"I assume that was the signal," Stannis said, still blinking. "After so many years, I'm still fascinated that these things are possible."
"There won't be a single soul in the entire city that hasn't seen it," said Ser Ferdinand, less surprised than the others. "We must hurry."
"Indeed," said Edelgard with an iron voice. "Give the order to our troops. Dorothea will need reinforcements to take the walls, and we must penetrate the Red Keep before they realize what is happening."
"Seize the city! Today marks the first day of a new era!" she bellowed the soldiers.
In the time it took Ned to recover from the shock caused by the pillar of light, he watched as the troops from Dragonstone took the River Gate without any opposition, and long columns of soldiers hurriedly entered the capital of the realm.
"What are you doing?" Ned asked, regaining his voice. "What was that?"
With a swift movement, the nearest Black Eagle drew his sword and placed it a finger away from Tommard's throat. Ser Ferdinand thrust his lance into Varly from behind, who had reacted quickly and had his sword in hand. His steel fell from his lifeless hands as a crimson point emerged from his belly, piercing his mail shirt as easily as if it were fabric. The rest of his guard couldn't even react as Stannis Baratheon's men disarmed or killed them if they tried to offer even the slightest resistance. In the distance, several columns of smoke started to rise behind the city walls.
Ned reached for the hilt of Ice, but Edelgard von Hresvelg's bodyguard crossed the distance that separated them at the speed of the wind and put a dagger under his chin before the Valyrian steel blade had finished coming out of its sheath.
"Lord Eddard Stark," said the Lady of Dragonstone as she looked at him disdainfully. "You are under arrest for treason."
Hello there. Hope you enjoyed the chapter for I did really enjoy writing it. This marks the end of Edelgard's flashbacks and the start of her POV's from the present. Needless to say, things are going to get violent from here on out. Thanks for reading and see you soon.
Next chapter: The Hour of the Eagle.