Disclaimer: I don't own A Song of Ice and Fire or Dragon Age
The Phoenix and the Griffin
Chapter 27: Burden of the Beast
They were a bit older than Bran when they witnessed their father kill a man. It was a certain rite of passage for youths in the North. Catelyn complained, she would always complain that the children of her body were too young. For a moment she even seemed to consider Jon, yet still the day after Jon felt her eyes cold as the ice in Winterfell glaring at him. Of course Eddard never once took Sansa or Arya to witness such a thing, he never so much as swore in front of his girls. The North had its traditions, there were few knights and good northern women could fight or kill, yet always the heirs took boys to witness execution.
'Ours is the old way,' was a saying shared.
The Stark's in particular descended from the first men of Westeros. They did not forsake the old gods or the old ways, Cregan Stark brought the old ways to the capital after the dance of dragons but the Crownlands never kept hold of it. Kings and lords continued to use paid executioners, men disconnected from those whom had wronged their lords, charged with axes to behead or nooses to hang. Eddard Stark though always used Ice, the ancestral blade, even the low born were worthy of such a thing. There were those whom faced death with a certain dignity and pride, others with a defiance or words of regret. The man whose execution Jon and Robb witnessed was an elf, tearful not because he had taken a life, but because he had been caught.
"It's not right, none of it is," he spat at Eddard's boots.
Jory was prepared to strike the man, but a simple raised of his lord's hand was enough for him to stop.
"You killed a man, a member of the Winterfell guard, and proceeded to steal from him as well, you attempted as well to escape justice by seeking the Dalish," Lord Stark explained.
"You don't want elves in your territory, all you had to do was just leave me be, you call it justice to kill a killer, that's exactly what I was doing," the elf stated.
"Your daughter will join the silent sisters…"
"More like she'll join a brothel," the elf spat back.
"Do not interrupt lord Stark," Jory said.
"Your boy, whom took part in the theft will join the Nights watch," Eddard continued.
"He killed elves, and the captain laughed about it when I tried to report him, fuck you Stark, fuck you and your family and you humans, laws, they only exist to protect you," the elf man's neck was pushed against a block and Eddard held the hilt of Ice to his chest.
"In the name of Robert Baratheon, king of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the first men, lord of the Seven kingdoms and protector of the realm, I Eddard Stark, warden of the north and lord of Winterfell, sentence you to die," he brought Ice down and ended the man's screams and life.
Jon looked away, Robb didn't, and their father remained silent as they walked back to the castle. Some people were sent to the wall after rioting, others into exile and when Eddard's shame ran out he sat the two boys down and asked them why he killed them and if they understood? Neither could particularly answer and into near young adulthood they both forgot their reasons, whether childhood naiveté or a book researched answer they forget theirs, but not their fathers.
"The man who passes the sentence must swing the sword, if you would take a man's life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. And if you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die. He was wronged yes, but he broke the law, we are not tribes or wanderers, laws are what set us apart from savages, even if we must take a hard and bloody path we must enforce those laws," Eddard explained.
He executed another man not long after, the guard captain whom ignored the pleas of elves. That time Jon didn't look away.
There was a struggle in his father; Robb knew that, as he got older he came to understand his father was never meant to rule Winterfell. His uncle Brandon, his mother's original love and betrothed, he was the man who was groomed to lead. Eddard Stark was made a leader through the trials of the rebellion. Yet still there was the struggle in his eyes as he dragged the whetstone against Ice, the tremble in his hands when he held it to his chest and spoke the string of words.
"In the name of Robert Baratheon, king of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the first men, lord of the Seven kingdoms and protector of the realm, I Eddard Stark, warden of the north and lord of Winterfell, sentence you to die," but his hands never trembled when he raised the sword and brought it down.
The lesson of savages and troubled souls that Lewyn taught the boys was false. They saw only desperate people trying to survive, mourning their dead or trying to get on with their lives as best they could. A would be hunter was courting a girl, a husband was worrying over a lost wife and a tamer was seeing to the beautiful white halla kept in their makeshift pens.
"Andara Atishan Grey Warden," the Keeper Zathrian welcomed them well enough, but he had that same troubled look to him that Robb remembered seeing from his father.
"Andan Atishan Keeper, what has happened here?" Daylen asked.
"Attacks from werewolves, it started with hunters at first, they would go missing, scholars too. There are ruins of my people nearby and sadly it is not so strange as for our people to go missing in the networks or to be caught unaware by beasts. But then I saw it myself, those monsters attacked our camp, infected my people," Zathrian explained.
"Is there anything we can do to help?" Wynn asked.
"It is not a matter of medicine or magic," Zathrian said.
They were shown the cots and tents of elves nursing bite marks, bites that festered and boiled like nothing the Westerosi had seen before.
"So this is the effect of a lycan bite," Daylen hummed.
"Lycan is one name for them, they are but animals and have attacked my people without mercy," Zathrian said.
"We came here to invoke the treaties that your clans made with the Grey Wardens, but this, it's like the blight of the Darkspawn, a corruption, if there is a way for us to help those sworn to fight with us then we will do it," Daylen explained.
"Not many of your people would make such an offer; though my own clan's numbers have dwindled I do know of methods to contact the other clans. I will take up your offer of aid Warden; we both have need of the other," Zathrian stated.
"What is it you need from us?" Alistair asked.
"These particular werewolves are focused, controlled, by a very dangerous spirit of the forest," the keeper said.
"A spirit?" Jon looked between the elf and the wardens.
"From the fade, places where much blood has been shed often have a thin veil, leading to spirits from the fade cracking through and at times even possessing things," Daylen said.
"This particular spirit took on the form of a white wolf known as Witherfang, if you kill Witherfang, bring her heart to me and I will be able to cure my people and end this curse," Zathrian explained.
Jon saw the scepticism in the eyes of Morrigan and Sten. He was not familiar with the Qunari's wariness of magic but he had come to know Morrigan's own beliefs. Despite the harsh conditions of the North, survival of the fittest was not a mantra the Stark children were taught. Northern families depended on one another, every child was precious, even Roose Bolton, known for his severity was known to regard highly his sons Domeric and Ramsey. Reliance, trust and care, which was probably why it had hurt the Mormonts so much for their heir Jorah to have broken sacred laws for a southern bride. The young warden though did not see the scepticism in his commander's eyes.
"Intrigued young Stark?" Zevran asked Robb, slapping his back.
"These people, the Dalish, they are so close, yet they still carry on with their work, hunting, praying, caring for one another," Robb said.
"Admirable aren't they, it does no good for them to give in to despair or anger, vengeance profits only your enemy," Zevran said.
"But justice must be done," Robb said.
"Will vengeance bring back their loved ones? Perhaps it will give you warm and fuzzy feelings, for a little while, all pleasure is temporary, then again I am an assassin, I've made my living taking other peoples loved ones. So I admit my opinion on vengeance is somewhat biased," Zevran explained.
"Justice is not the same as vengeance," Sten said.
"These poor people, I will see what help I can offer," Wynn said.
"You too Morrigan," Daylen commanded and the wild witch scoffed.
She still did as he requested though, walking with Wynn to the wounded and sick. Daylen walked back to Zathrian and his first Lanaya, speaking with them more about the nature of the mission.
"Vengeance isn't justice, but sometimes they do meet," Robb said.
"Can one kill another who has wronged them and still call it justice, can one kill one whom has wronged them and not feel any kind of satisfaction?" Zevran asked.
"How can you say that when you've not been wronged?" Alistair asked.
"What's going on?" Daylen asked as he walked back over.
"The pup's carrying on the debate," Oghren burped. "Look kid, cutting the head off of some bastard that deserves it is one thing, but revenge is an obsession and trust me obsessions can get a lot of people killed unnecessarily," the dwarf explained.
"Obsessions like ale?" Theon asked.
"Ale is a pleasure, like the whores you fuck, you're always going back for more but vengeance? Once you've killed who you want to kill then what? Like the elf said the pleasure is only temporary."
"It's closure, closure for people who have had something taken from them," Alistair said.
"You're talking about Loghain and what he took from you aren't you Alistair?" Daylen asked.
"Our brothers, Duncan," the blonde warden muttered.
"When I was at the tower, there was this girl I really liked, maybe it was love or at least as far as two people stuck in a tower could understand of love. She died to save my life," they saw the pain in Daylen's eyes as he recounted the tale. "I was consumed by anger, and when I finally killed who I held responsible it felt good, very good and then I still felt angry. It didn't balance the scales, it didn't make anything go away and it certainly offered no comfort," he explained.
"What did you learn from Zathrian?" Leliana asked.
"First we need to move ahead, there are things I need to say," Daylen said.
They followed Daylen away from the Dalish camp, near the ruins of what must have been an old road. Each checked their surroundings, to ensure there were no followers from camp and no hunters in the trees. Daylen sat down and waited for the others to do the same.
"Life is filled with very inconvenient chances, what are the chances of Zathrian's clan being attacked by Werewolves?" he asked.
"Shit happens," Oghren shrugged.
"Coincidences happen more than you'd know, most of my first contracts were convenient mistakes," Zevran chuckled.
"Did anyone else get the feeling that Zathrian didn't want us there until we offered help?" Theon asked.
"You'll come to learn that humans are very worthy of hatred," Sten said and both Oghren and Zevran laughed.
"There will always be elves that hate humans just as there will be humans who hate elves, but this was different, why is Zathrian here? How does he know about Witherfang, for him to have this knowledge must make him connected to these werewolves somehow," Daylen stated.
"What makes you say that?" Leliana asked.
"Lycanthropy is a curse, a curse that spreads from one victim to another. Like the Dawkspawn blight there are many tales as to where it started, a demon, an elvhan god, a witch of the wilds. But I'm still just wrapping my head around why of all the places to come, Zathrian would bring his clan here," Daylen stood up and traced his hand over one of the trees.
It almost seemed as if he was analysing the tree, analysing the very world around him. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and stilled his shaking hand and heart.
"The veil is thin here, more blood has been shed, it isn't just werewolves we're going to be fighting," he said.
Zevran gave oil and flint to Theon and Jon, Leliana dipped her arrows in a poison and Sten took up a shield and long sword in place of his great sword. The forest was eerie not just because of the silence, but the very air seemed heavier the deeper they got. One moment there was trees and streams and the patting of feet that wasn't their own. The archers kept within the centre of the group, covering various directions. Theon let loose an arrow when he thought he saw a shadow in the trees.
"Keep calm," Leliana reassured him.
"I know how to fire a bow woman," Theon seethed.
"But clearly you have no idea what it is like to be hunted," Zevran retorted.
"Keep quiet, focus, confirm before you fire," Leliana said.
Daylen raised his hand and crouched; he pointed to Zevran and Sten, pointed at his eyes and then pointed into the bushes. With his other hand he made a gesture for the others to crouch too. They followed Daylen around a group of rocks. There was a sound echoing, not just the water fall near them but the sound of ripping flesh. The Stark and Greyjoy boys recognised the sound, whenever they caught a wolf eating a deer they tracked. Eddard often had them leave these potential kills. They looked out from the rocks and saw the source of the noise. It was crouched on the ground like a man, hands on the back and neck of a hart, the horned animal's eyes were frozen in a blank state. The rest of the 'man' was covered in areas of thick fur and exposed skin. The top part had a head shaped like a wolf's maw, but bigger, more akin to a bear, or perhaps a direwolf as Robb had seen from sketches comparing the two species. A yell that as a mixture of annoyed and painful came out of the beast's maw, bones on his legs bent and snapped, reshaping into curved joints like a wolf's.
Again an unspoken conversation took place between Daylen and his group. The Starks and Greyjoy noted this exchange, the movement of Daylen's hands, a circle drawn with his finger, and then a point to the trees opposite the werewolf. Oghren and Alistair both nodded, the latter slipping his sword through his belt and removing from his back a crossbow. They began a small creep through the area, making their way around the werewolf's feeding area. It ripped the hart's throat, chewing the raw meat and dying its nose and jaw red. Daylen looked over his shoulder at the Westerosi, pointing to his eyes. That was the sign they understood, it was one Ser Rodrick drilled into them, a lesson to always be aware of their surroundings. Not just to find a good kill, but to be aware of a threat.
Threats like bears, or wolves, or stags brave enough to charge them, if they were unlucky enough to go near their young. As Theon moved his head in a circle, he became aware of an altogether different threat. He looked at the tree branches and saw them move, but no, that was impossible. It must have been a trick of the light in his eyes, but he swore he saw a face on one of the trees. Maybe it was a variation of a heart tree; it became apparent though that it was anything but what he thought it was, when he saw one of the branches of the tree twist into a ball like a fist.
Suddenly, Daylen turned, making a pulling motion with his hand. Theon yelled as something lifted him off of the ground and pulled him back, just as the tree slammed its 'fist' into the ground.
"NOW!" Daylen yelled.
(Dynasty Warriors 9 OST-The Awakening)
The werewolf howled as an arrow pierced its leg. But Daylen's focus was on the Sylvan in front of him. It stood at its full height, yelling with rage as it stomped towards Theon. Daylen threw his hand forward, releasing a cloud of fire that made the walking tree back off. Bolts with chains attached to them came out of the areas Daylen directed his allies to hide. One pierced the Sylvan's right leg, and the other its left shoulder.
"Ignite your arrows with the flint, aim for the eyes," Daylen said.
"And myself?" Robb asked.
"Hack at the leg," Daylen drew his staff from his back.
Robb's sword was suddenly surrounded by fire, adding to the electric 'rune' that was already crafted to it. He ran at the Sylvan just as it tried to swipe at him. But the chain on its left shoulder pulled it back. Sten kept a hold of the chain, before wedging the crossbow it was attached to between two rocks. He drew his sword and broke off into a run towards the Sylvan. As Robb and Daylen chipped at the Sylvan's legs, Theon and Jon hit it with arrows they lit on fire. The projectiles pelted the Sylvan's body, one shot from Theon hitting its left eye. It swept its arm across the ground, Alpha suddenly tackling Theon to the ground. He nearly forgot the hound, and was surprised by the sheer strength of the dog. Another shot came from the trees and Leliana jumped down, hitting the Sylvan's other eye with her arrow. Oghren and Alistair pulled on the chain they had imbedded in the Sylvan's leg and brought the creature to its knees. Fire swept through Sten's sword as he came into the range of Daylen's buffing spell. He drove his sword through the Sylvan's chest, drawing a pained roar that blew back Sten's hair. It was its final cry before it slumped onto the ground.
"Shades incoming, I saw them from my viewpoint in the trees," Leliana said.
"We weren't ambushing the werewolf?" Theon asked.
"No, just marking it so that Alpha can track it," Daylen said and balled his hand into a fist, a red haze ran over his arm before a half dome appeared in front of his hand. "Form up a shield wall," he commanded.
Sten took his shield off of his back and Alistair drew both his shield and sword. They and Robb joined Daylen's side, stepping in front of the shooters and Alpha and Oghren. The dwarf grumbled as he pulled back on the mechanism of his crossbow, it was a weapon he wasn't used to. Alpha's ears perked and he barked angrily, turning and catching Jon's attention.
"Enemies from behind," he said.
"He could smell werewolves tracking us," Leliana suggested.
"Zevran, what do your elf eyes see?" Oghren asked.
"It isn't as if we have spy glass vision idiot," the Antivan retorted.
"Here they come, set your feet firmly, lean with us when they strike and then push forward," Alistair said to Robb.
"I know how phalanxes work," Robb said.
"Not well enough," Sten said.
"Get ready," Daylen said.
"I think Jon's right Amell, something's coming up behind us," Theon said.
"I can," Jon paused, hearing an eerie whisper in his ear. "I can sense them!"
"Blighted creatures, steady, take a few steps back Theon, Jon and draw back your bows," Daylen explained.
'A good commander adapts to an ever changing situation on the field' was one bit of advice that Eddard told his sons. Good tacticians had a plan ready, just as Daylen did for when they marked their prey and flanked the tree giant stalking them. The best tacticians came up with a strategy in the moment, in response to any change they encountered. Jon and Theon drew back their bows, the former feeling the latter's arm shake beside him. It was a sentiment that Jon shared, biting his lip as he saw for the first time creatures infected with the Blight. Six wolves for six Stark children, some of their hair had fallen off and their jaws had stretched, rows of uneven teeth chomping down as they jumped out of the bushes and rushed towards them.
"Loose?" Theon waited for a command.
"Not yet, step back now, shield wall step forward," Daylen said.
Robb, Sten and Alistair did as they were told, as did Jon and Theon. Daylen stepped away from the shield wall and swept his staff in an arc in front of the archers. The light surged before a row of icicles burst out of the ground, impaling some of the wolves, or splitting through their opened mouths. Two fell to arrows from Jon and Theon, and the sixth was suddenly bashed into the ground by Oghren and his crossbow. The shield walls slammed into the shades, pushing back and thrusting their swords. Leliana fired her arrows and Zevran threw one of his knives, hitting a shade's eye before Sten cut through it with his sword. Robb bashed another shade across the head and ran his sword across its belly. It slumped into the ground before melting.
(End OST)
"Are there anymore coming?" Robb asked.
"Alpha seems comfortable," Alistair said, noting the wag of Alpha's tail.
"He can pick up the werewolf's scent, that should put us on the path to Witherfang, right now I want you three to go back to the Dalish camp and get Shale and Morrigan, we'll leave markers for them to follow," Daylen explained.
"You didn't think Daylen gave me all that Andraste's grace as a gift did you?" Leliana asked.
"Yes," everyone besides Daylen said.
He shook his head as Leliana blushed. It was then that Alpha began to growl, the group raised their weapons in defence. They weren't prepared though for the ground to suddenly start shaking. The ground split open, Alpha and Daylen fell into the chasm and in the confusion the group was separated. Robb and Theon were thrown through the waterfall, Theon hitting his head on a rock when he landed. Blood flowed over his left eye, already blocking his shaky vision. He raised his head and saw in the distance a blurred mass of darkness, a man in a robe. Quickly knocking back his bow he fired, but there was nothing there, he swore by the drowned god there was something there.
"WHERE ARE YOU!" he yelled. "SHOW YOURSELF!" Theon broke off into a sprint, picking up one of the arrows that had scattered out of his quiver.
"THEON WAIT!" Robb yelled.
The heir of Winterfell stood up, his heel surging in pain, he must have landed awkwardly.
"JON! ALISTAIR! EVERYONE WHERE ARE YOU!" he called out.
Theon ran around one of the trees and looked through the bushes. He drew back his bow again, doing a slow 180 turn to scan the surroundings.
"Seven hells, there was someone here I saw them," he snarled.
Robb meanwhile sat on one of the rocks, checking over his left heel. Of course there was nothing there but reddened skin, but it was difficult to put weight on. The snap of a twig made Robb alert, he looked to see his sword was on the ground, a foolish mistake he knew Rodrick would chide him for more. Then came the rustle in the bushes and the snarl, Robb's blood ran cold. Her teeth grinded together in pain, it was the hips that told Robb that the werewolf in front of him had been a woman once.
"Human," there was a vague and unpleasant hint of her old self in her voice, it had become a hybrid of speech and snarls and a pained one at that.
She was in agony, her body shaking, even as her mouth salivated and her claws dug into her arms.
"Please, please," there it was, that begging tone that Robb recognised even through the growling.
"Please no, mercy lord," he remembered a deserter saying.
"Please, please kill me," she said.
Again Robb looked to his sword and stumbled across the water to grab it. He landed on his chest, his fingers just touching the pommel of the blade.
"THEON!" he yelled.
He raised the sword as the werewolf woman crept through the water, the blade was shaking, no his hands were shaking.
'I must be afraid,' he thought.
He was never supposed to see these monstrosities. The giant spiders were supposed to remain Old Nan's fairy tales of the Others. Darkspawn too were supposed to be just foreign legends, nothing of concern to the north. His brother was infected, sick with something, Alistair considered it an honour but Daylen was solemn and almost ashamed. But he was never supposed to get close to elves too, they were to be the people he judged.
"He killed elves, and the captain laughed about it when I reported him," he remembered that elf man's anger, the first man he had watched die.
What did his father see in the man's eyes in that final moment, what words did he whisper. Robb wanted to remember, wanted to know if his father saw one final thing that told him that that man, who wanted justice, deserved Ice's justice. The werewolf, no, he told himself, she was an elf, she was still an elf woman.
"Athras," he heard her whisper, was that some sort of prayer for her?
"The man who passes the sentence must swing the sword," he remembered his father saying.
He raised the sword and looked into her eyes, seeing the tears, the pain and regrets, was that what his father saw?
"Athras," again she whispered.
His hands shook in hesitation, his father knew that Jon had looked away, part of Robb felt proud that he hadn't. Still he hesitated, and then he looked away for a moment when he heard Theon's voice.
"Robb," the Greyjoy looked towards Robb in confusion.
Suddenly, Robb felt a crushing pain on his wrist. His sword was wrenched from his grip and he was thrown across the water screaming in pain. Theon yelled and the wolf howled before sprinting away. Robb was still screaming, the bite mark on his arm burning in agony, it bled but seemed to strangely heal as if the wound didn't want him to bleed out. The veins on his arms throbbed and darkened and Theon ran across the water, forgoing caution to help him. He removed a poultice from his bag and went to pour it on the bite, but he saw the skin pulse and shift, the wound truly was healing itself in a way. The pain shot up Robb's arm and he calmed for a moment.
"Damn it, seven hells," he cursed.
"I'm sorry," Theon said.
"No, no, I let myself be distracted, Rodrick would slap me for such a mistake, did you find anyone?" Robb asked.
"Someone was out there I know it Robb, by the old gods and new I did see someone," Theon said.
"It is all right, this was my mistake, my stupidity," suddenly Robb screamed, clutching his arm.
"We need to go now, or else other creatures might find us," Theon said.
"Remember what they said Theon, the werewolves, they carry an infection, like the Blight," Robb muttered.
"We mustn't worry about that now Robb, we go back the way we came, back to the Dalish camp, perhaps they have medicine," Theon suggested.
He pulled Robb's arm over his shoulder and began carrying him up the hill. He also picked up Robb's sword, considering something for a moment as Robb yelled again. Again Theon considered it when he saw the bite mark bulge, as if something was travelling through Robb's body. But he shook his head, telling himself no, and then telling Robb no. Yet still the pain persisted.
(Game of Thrones OST-Valar Morghulis)
He could hear the screams of the Westerosi boy, they were vulnerable, perhaps they were to meet the many faced one. A price had been paid, one life, though there would be a necessity for taking others lives. Poison had been the first attempt, but the name offered was impervious to it and had dumped the contents of the tankard he had been given, an 'accident' the name implied. So a more direct approach was to be carried out, magic to kill a mage. No one dragged a knife across their hand, no one invoked a chant to the many faced god. If no one failed, then the many faced god would take yet another face. There was a wounded Dalish hunter, already dying, no one would take on a face for the task. The name had been offered, Daylen.
'Valar Morghulis,' no one remembered.
Next Chapter 28: The brilliance of Fausten Amell
I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter, I enjoyed writing it at least and I hope people see and like the direction I've taken with Robb. Nature of the Beast is very much his arc, though it gives Theon a good learning curve as well with Zevran being a secondary character of great importance.
Plus 'Many faced god' has given me a great idea, I hope people won't be 'Envious' of my version of it :)
Next time we go between Daylen and Daenerys as Fausten's true campaign begins.