(The Haunted Forest: 3/31/299) Viserys II
"Are you sure this is the way, princeling?" the acrid smell of onions drifted along the icy breeze, preceding the Smalljon's rumbling words. At his back, he could hear the slow march of their five-hundred man company, trekking through the ankle deep snow.
"I am certain, my lord," Viserys felt the vein at his head pulse, as he stared ahead, glancing at the skies above them and the unnervingly encroaching tree line. The radiant sun shone down in unfiltered brightness, making him feel unease at the seemingly idyllic conditions of their ranging. Whereas all his travels past the wall had been fraught with blizzards, black clouds, and difficulties beyond measure, Viserys now felt as if he were being led to slaughter amidst the quiet calmness of snowy fields, gentle winds, and healthy trees of various stock. The powdery ice crunched beneath his feet as he clutched at the leathery hilt of his dragonglass dagger, Rhaella. The spear that had been left to him by the Bloodraven after their first meeting, he had fashioned into far more familiar weapon. Strangely, he had found the smooth grip to be comforting in the ominously silent vastness of the far north.
"Should something find you upon the snows, I pray to the old gods that the Bloodraven was not speaking false, and that you find some measure of protection with it,"Mormont's words echoed within his mind.
"This is the Ranger road we had taken, before the snowstorm had set upon us…" he nodded towards Waymar, Will, and Gared, as he spoke. All of whom, he noted, appeared just as annoyed at the Umber's constant line of questioning as the Dragonstone soldiers and their boy commander at their backs. "…that bleak morn," he continued, trudging along, wincing as he felt a slight rattle enter his tone and tinge his otherwise confident words. "After that, we had lost our way, mere moments after entering the forest. So blinding had the snows and wind been," he frowned at the memory, "that had I not seen the woods prior to entering, I would have suspected us being lost amidst an open field."
"Scared of a few trees, boy?" the large man questioned jokingly, the humor not reaching his wary eyes. Clearing his throat, the Smalljon continued, "So how did you chance upon this supposed 'child of the forest,' when your vision had been so impaired?"
"I did not chance upon the child,Umber," the dragon bearing his father's cruel voice stirred within him, seething in anger at being questioned by a man such as the Smalljon. A man who had been one of the many that had betrayed their rightful king.
'Burn them all,'it roared.
Wishing nothing more than to strike the large Northman upon his bearded face, for what amounted to nothing more than mere irritation, Viserys clenched his hand. Knowing it to be foolish and petty, he found himself frightfully unable to placate the abruptly agitated dragon, until another voice whispered to him. This one equally familiar and bearing the gentle tone of his granduncle, Maester Aemon.
'Breathe, Viserys. Madness does not become us,'it soothed.
Exhaling, he relaxed his hand, and eventually his mind. Finding his voice again, he steadied his breath, still thinking his time in the snowstorm had all been a dream. "The child had come upon me…" Viserys paused, remembering the small form amidst the snow, then realized he may have lingered too long upon his words. Quickly, he resumed his recount, "…when Ser Waymar had fallen into a pit, during our efforts at finding Will and Gared. From what I could see, the edges had been sheer, and Gared had been the one with the rope. I had attempted to assist Royce by navigating along its outer edge to find a way for him to escape. However, before I could, I heard an almost lyrical voice piercing through the deafening whiteness and calling out my name. Suddenly, the snows in front of me had inexplicably cleared, and there it was. Standing there. Waiting for me. When I drew closer, thinking myself going mad, it had said that I had been 'late,' and then a longer path appeared behind it. After that, I followed."
"Perhaps you were going mad, Targaryen, and maybe you still are," the Smalljon snorted, drawing more than a few laughing coughs from the nearby Northmen who had heard the belittling remark. "Why in the seven-hells would you follow some strange creature deeper into a blizzard?"
Stopping in his tracks, Viserys turned to the man, "I do not know. I felt as if I needed too…" he replied uncertainly, continuing forward, and paying no mind to the confused faces behind him.
As the hours passed, the forest around them seemed to grow ever quieter, chilling him to the bone. The shadows had grown long, marking the passage of time, as the sun trailed along the horizon. As he stared ahead, he found the branches of the trees looming over their marching forms like spindly, gnarled fingers.'Fingers of the dead,'he thought to himself, catching his icy breath within his chest.
"Fingers threatening to strangle your army and its futile march,"he heard a hissing voice at the back of his mind, followed by a dull pain at his temples.
"Bloodraven?"he paused, knowing the voice had been neither his father's nor Maester Aemon's, trying to delve into his mind to reveal the identity of the speaker with the unwelcome words. At his side, the crunching footsteps of Ser Waymar, Will, and Gared reminded him of their mission and the bond the four had formed over the course of their service at the Wall. Further behind, the rumbling march of five-hundred men felt as drums amid the foreboding landscape.
"Turn away while you can, Targaryen. Death follows you,"the voice in his head warned.
'I have no choice. The woman, she…'Viserys answered his mind's intruder, rubbing his head as he did so.
"Damns herself with every action she takes,"the voice sighed."I will return,"it said, before finally fluttering away from his consciousness. Somewhere above, in the canopy of gnarled tree branches and snow-kissed leaves, he heard the sounds of a small bird flapping into the sky.
"Are you well?" Ser Waymar pat him softly across the back, bringing his gaze back to earth, before resting his hand upon his shoulder. Worry was etched upon his handsome face, as it was upon the faces of Will and Gared. "Hmmm. You look paler than usual, Princess. Perhaps we should make camp?"
"Yes, I believe we should, before it grows dark," Viserys lied, wishing more than anything to march right back to the Wall without looking back, but presenting a faint smile nonetheless. One that he knew had not reached his eyes. "I also feel a bit peckish."
"As you say," the Royce said, removing his hand and narrowing his eyes, seemingly aware of the lie but choosing not to press him on the subject. "I will go and tell Umber," his friend began to turn, before Viserys called out to him.
"Waymar?" he asked, before the young man could fully turn away.
"What is it?" the Valeman grunted.
"Check on those at the rear," Viserys found himself staring down along the path they had come and the trail of nearly five-hundred men who had come with them on their trek through the ice. "Make certain none have strayed. We are getting close. Two more days, by my estimate."
"Hmmm," Waymar nodded, in grim demeanor.
Together, he, Will, and Gared watched their black brother venture back towards the bulk of their caravan, before disappearing into the group of Northmen. Once the young knight had vanished from sight, they exchanged knowing looks with one another and set themselves to task, unfurling their packs and setting up camp.
"Leave him be, Umber. We've been forced to hear your voice every waking moment for six days, and your constant sniping has done nothing to better my mood during our trek through this desolate wasteland," Sho-Yu grouched, shifting atop his carpeted seat, bearing the confidence and bluntness of a man thrice his size. The latter of which, Viserys noted, as having shocked the largest man in their group into a temporary muteness. As the campfire at the center of their tents burned bright, he recognized some of the faces illuminated by its soft orange glow. From his left to his right, he saw the grim countenance of the Smalljon, flanked by two northmen who rarely spoke, his brothers, Will, Gared, and Waymar, and Sho-Yu, along with his Dragonstone guard, Jah-Qin and Aiguo. The large silent one, stood just off to the side, his back turned, clad in full plate, and peering out into the blackness ahead and not the points of light emanating from smaller campfires at their rear. The Northmen sat atop a fallen tree, while he and his brothers sat atop a trio of flat rocks. The men from Dragonstone, clad in crimson, black, and gold, had unfurled a large thick carpet over a patch of dirt that had been cleared of snow by their fire sorcery.
At his side, Viserys swore he heard Waymar and Will chuckle under their breaths at the boy's comments, and he glared at them. A silent warning to not escalate the situation any more than necessary, for he knew of the temper the Smalljon had, after spending time with the bearded Northman during their journey.
"Watch your tone, boy. I merely wished to ask the white-haired crow what madness had overtaken him to follow the stranger in the snow? No answer was given when I asked hours ago," the Smalljon warned, pointing to the boy and rearing up to his full height atop his seated position. The duo of Northmen sitting to either side of the Umber, squared their shoulders and straightened somewhat following the Smalljon's admonishment of the child.
At Sho-Yu's sides, Viserys saw the boy's own guard follow suit, while the silent one ignored them and continued gazing out into the night.
"Enough! This is neither the time, nor the place to quarrel," he growled, attempting to cool the two, before their argument could grow any hotter. Within the swirling tempest of his mind, Viserys chose the most apt response for the Smalljon that he could summon. One he knew would silence the man, and prevent snide remark, or combative counter. "This is perhaps the only time in my life where I pray that I am going mad, Umber. Otherwise, winter truly is coming…forallof us…" the northern grumbles died at his words, and for the briefest instant he shared a knowing look with the Yi-Tish boy. Turning away, he spied several patches of eight glistening things in the far darkness of the woods. They twinkled like azure glass, reflecting what little light they could from their campfire, before altogether vanishing in a blink.
"Do you see something?" Will questioned, from his seated position, upon raised flat rock.
"No. Nothing," he replied, rubbing his eyes and suspecting some mere trick of light or simple exhaustion. When his vision cleared, he spied the twinkling no more. Instead, he saw only quiet void, and shook his head in self-doubt. Turning to face the rest, Viserys continued with the others, before rustling amongst the branches drew all their attentions upwards.
"What in the bloody hell is that?" the Smalljon stood up, drawing a dagger from his side.
"Something large," the boy said, rising as well, and forming a small flame within his palm.
Before blades and flame could be unleashed, Viserys located the source of the commotion, perched high in the trees. "Stay your arms," he ordered. "Tis nothing but a large hawk," he pointed to the large bird, watching as its blazing yellow eyes reflected the fires of their camp. As it focused upon their mostly seated group, Viserys felt his skin crawl, when its molten eyes came to rest upon him.
"Huh, ha," the Smalljon chuckled in equal parts humor and relief, though Viserys knew the large man would never admit to such.
As the others returned to their seats, his eyes lingered upon the creature, mesmerized by its burning gaze."Tread lightly,"a woman's voice echoed within his mind, causing only mild discomfort compared to the voice that had spoken to him when the sun had sailed high in the sky."Others linger in the dark,"it said, at last, before the sounds of the hawk fluttering off of its high perch drew him back to their camp. He tuned his ears, and strained his eyes, in near vain attempt at discerning to where the creature had gone. For his efforts, he had managed an approximation of where the animal had disappeared. Instantly, as he stared ahead down their darkened path, he knew the hawk was leading them to where he suspected the Bloodraven's cave lie. The back of his spine tingled with terrible uncertainty, as the bird's presence and the strange woman's voice, abandoned he and their group in the murky wood.
"Ahem," he cleared his throat, in an attempt to dispel the unease coursing through him, as he returned to his retelling of his experiences with the child of the forest. "I recall seeing Wierwood trees, nestled along a path of stone, when the child had found me." He clasped his hands together, near the open flame, gathering warmth and hesitating only briefly in his words. His instincts, honed and trained for nearly fifteen years, were all but screaming at him to turn back towards the safety of the Wall, but he would not flee.'I am a man of the Night's Watch,'he assured himself. "And seeing as how the vast expanse outside of this forest is nothing but featureless snow, this must be where we had come."
"This snowstorm you make mention of? Was it a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence?" the Yi-Tishman, Jah-Qin, questioned as he looked skyward. "I see only clear skies and many stars, and the winds are as calm and soothing as a mother's voice. Not one storm since we've set out from the Wall. Perhaps winter just passed us by, and Other killed upon Dragonstone was the last of its kind?"
"That would certainly explain why it took its chances at sea," Sho-Yu reasoned, cupping his chin.
"Hmm, a desperate escape?" Waymar chimed in, seemingly drawn into the conversation, as he looked to the boy. Those who heard the third son of the Bronze Yohn, began muttering to each other, each likely drawing wildly different conclusions to what Viserys suspected.
"Perhaps it was? But then that begs the question about where exactly the Wildlings disappeared off to," Viserys countered, absently staring into the flame. "They had been active only months before your Fire Lord had sent the first of you to the Wall. Which was years ago, mind you. Quite a lot of time to strategize, especially if one is unencumbered with constant infighting and political maneuvering…" he said, hoping desperately that he was referring to the Wildlings, but knowing within his heart that he meant the Others themselves. His words drifted in the air and once again he found himself tracing down the dark snowy path ahead with focused eye.
"You were not to return,"Viserys heard a voice, which was neither his father's nor his granduncle's, nor the woman's, but the one from before. His hand faltered, at the sudden reprimand, causing him to drop what interest he held in the conversation and remain rooted to the spot."You will doom us all."
"Bloodraven?"he asked, within his mind, and received no response.
"The South has always held such problems. Rich shits with too much time on their hands, always dragging the North into them more often than not," the Smalljon snorted dismissively, crossing his arms. "Are we close, Targaryen?" Umber groaned.
"Yes, we are. Two days out. At most," the rumbling voice of the Umber heir shook Viserys from his temporary stupor, which was quickly followed by a dull throb at his temples. As he spoke, he used his fingers to rub at the sides of his head to help alleviate the pain.
"Thank the gods," the bearded man grumbled sarcastically.
"Do you have a better way, Umber?" Sho-Yu interjected, as he began his tirade against the man from the North. "None of us have ever stepped foot past the Wall, save them," the Yi-Tish boy motioned to him and the others. "And that is enough for the Fire Lord to issue request for this mission of ours. And if it is enough for her, then it should be enough for us to follow without question."
"I may have no suggestion on how to find this bloody cave of yours, but if you ask me, we waste time chasing shadows in the snow!" the Smalljon barked, glaring down at the young man from Dragonstone, spark of conflict rekindled. "However, do not take my words as disloyalty," his voice had grown low. "I follow because Lord Stark commands. It is to he, and the King, that I owe my allegiance, not to her! Her wishes have no bearing on why I am here. I will do as commanded, you can rest assured of that. And regardless of my thoughts, I will not stray from the path. Still, a path thatshouldbe remarked upon, is that of the Kingslayer and his army. Even now as we freeze our arses off up here, they are running rampant up and down the Riverlands, setting fire to every village and town from the the Red Fork to the God's Eye! The lions are harrying the Young Wolf's supply trains in the south, and now, rumors abound of Rivermen vanishing in the night! Do not think me ill-informed of how the war goes!"
'Vanishing?'Viserys wondered, suddenly aware of the nature of conversation, his mind awhirl with ideas, as he remembered his previous words on the Wildlings.'A connection to the Others? Have they somehow circumvented the wall? A hidden path? Children of the Forest?'
"Receiving messages in the night, Umber?" Sho-Yu nosed.
"Blood and teeth lurk beneath the waters of the Trident…"the odd voice whispered once more, causing a rise in pressure at the base of his skull.
"No more than you,child," the Umber retorted.
"Hmph, well whatever transpires south of Neck is too far removed from us to assist in any meaningful manner. You should know this," the Yi-Tish boy pointed to the grumbling Northman. "You and your men would spend weeks travelling to even get there, and by that timeourRed Stranger andyourYoung Wolf would have brought the West to its knees."
"Red Stranger," the large man threw his head back, scoffing at the newfound moniker earned by the Baratheon girl from Dragonstone. "She should first deal with the lions at her back, lest her early victories have the chance to take root and see her begin making mistakes.Fatalmistakes. The Old Lion is not one to be underestimated. Tywin Lannister has never been cornered, and if he still believes he can win, his wrath will be terrible. Especially against an undersupplied army, and an inexperienced commander."
"The Princess commands nothing, and you seem to think little of the very able commanders riding alongside," the boy said in idle suspicion. "Lords Bolton and Karstark? The Lieutenant-General and the Hellhound? Your own liege lord's first born? Ursa Baratheon does not ride alone, nor is she unable to take advice, or obey command. Such was her charge, by the Fire Lord herself.Learn and conquer. Her victories over the Tooth, Sarsfield, and Hornvale, were not born out of some form of childish arrogance. She merely pressed advantage brought about by the bleeding star, no doubt making the others at her side see as well, and once news spread of the fates of the Tooth and Sarsfield? That was when the ravens came. Each of them bringing letters of capitulation from Deep Den, the Crag, and the Banefort.Alladdressed to her. Unfortunately, Hornvale decided to differ, thinking that Tywin the Old could save them, and it now stands as the largest funeral pyre in Westeros. No, Umber, perhapssheshould be the one to not be underestimated?" Sho-Yu straightened himself, before narrowing his eyes dangerously. "I'm certain they are all very aware of their tenuous supply lines, and yet they have still managed to crush every army pitted against them, full supplies or no. Every fortress, village, and town, in their path has been sacked to compensate for this temporary disadvantage, and as vengeance for what the lions do in the Riverlands."
"Then they are only buying themselves a month at most with such tactics," the large man countered with a grimace. "They stretch their bloody forces far too thin across enemy territory! They should either turn back to assist the Riverlanders, in putting down the lions ravaging their lands, or put the Rock to the sword!"
"The Old Lion, and the remaining Western lords, have had ample time to play some trick, but the Lannisters are losing bannermen by the day, and pretty soon even Lord Tywin will have nothing left to work with. No men. No gold. No time, and most damning of all, no one left who fears him. The Kingslayer's head will be on a spike soon enough, and Tywin's time upon this earth is rapidly nearing its end. As is the time of his long vaunted family. They merely remain blissfully ignorant of that fact, and allow the prongs of the stag to close up around them."
"Bah! You speak of arrogance?! Perhaps you should curb your own!?!" the large man huffed.
The young boy clenched his fist, causing the heat to spike around their immediate area, before pointing to the offending Northman. "Do not test me, Umber! Or your father will never see a Fire Nation bride for you!"
"Is that a threat, you slant-eyed swaddling?" the Smalljon chuckled humorlessly. "You truly think your Fire Lord would deny my father such a thing? Truly? On your word alone, deny a marriage to a Northern house, based solely upon heated words? If she is, then perhaps she is not as ambitious as I thought she was. Such news would be welcome, but I can see what she is doing," the bearded Northman grew closer to Viserys and the boy. "As I'm sure the others lords do as well. But as it was with the Targaryens and their dragons, so too will it be with them," the Smalljon shifted eyes, between both he and Sho-Yu, as he uttered the last. "This legacy she promises us? Of mingling her people's blood with our own? Itwilldoom us all. It is a false gift laced with poison."
His blood froze at the Umber's words, and soon enough a dull pain washed across the side of his head."He is right,"the fell voice whispered.
"Ha! What a clever jest!" the boy clapped.
"Had my father remained wroth at the secrecy of it all, perhaps then I would have seen the humor in my words? But as he did not, then I do not. Once the thought had settled into his mind? He salivated at the possibility of introducing such power into our house. When the heirs of these ill-gotten unions grow, they will need training. And where will that be?"
"The North does posess an Academy of its own. The Scorching Be…" Sho-Yu began his counter only to find his reply shortened by the aggressive northerner.
"Do not take me for some dull-witted brute! I may look it, but that is all. I will not allow whatever foul sorcery you cast upon the Mormonts to stain the House of Umber," the man grumbled, causing the boy to deflate somewhat at the unexpected retort.
"You speak of a grand conspiracy?" Sho-Yu questioned, with a hint of uncertainty and false sarcasm laced into his words. "Plotted, by a singular person? Fire Lord she may be, but she is no a god capable of deceiving an entire country. Not even the Conqueror could manage such. Let alone a country as prone to internal squabbles as Westeros. Or have you been taking the lies, spread by the lions, to heart?"
"Forgive me, if I do not believe you," the man sniffed at the air, before returning to their previous exchange on the affairs of the South. "Thatgirl. Azula's spawn, Ursa, is convincing our men in the South into attacking everything in the Westerlands, for seemingly no reason!" the Smalljon spat, slicing his hands through the air as he spoke. "She tugs at strings of war while the men wage it true! What was the point of her dalliance in Hornvale?! To what fucking end?! Hmmm? To send a message?! Such could have been done already by smashing the Rock!"
"She did not 'dally,'" Sho-Yu snorted, a critical look now shadowing his eyes. "The Princess does not indulge in such childish things. She's…"
"She's softening up the Westerlands, in preparation of the King's arrival, isn't she? That's why the supply raids are not as concerning for them as they should be?" Viserys looked to the Yi-Tish boy, cutting him off before realizing he had, and remembering Sho-Yu's earlier words about 'the Red Stranger and the Young Wolf bringing the West to its knees.'
"Just so, Targaryen," the young Yi-Tishman rose a brow in almost unsettling interest. "Orders from the capital, reached my ears, before we left from the Wall. She's been ordered to make the way clear for King Robert, who brings with him thirty-thousand Stormlanders, ten-thousand Crownlanders, seventy-thousand Reachmen, and enough supplies to support three times that. And should that not be enough, for you, twenty-thousand Dornishmen and the ten-thousand sellswords of the Golden Company follow little more than a fortnight behind."
"I imagine your Fire Lord wishes the King to be the one to deliver the killing blow to the West? In order to make the fall of the lions earn its legitimacy?" Viserys surmised, glancing at Sho-Yu and finding a sharp smirk upon his all-to-young face, all the while possessing a disquieting feeling in the pit of his stomach at the mention of the sellsword company from Essos.
"Hmmmm, yes," he hummed with a smile. "It will just be quicker and easier, with half of the Westerlands already aflame, and the other half being made to see the error of their ways before he arrives…" Sho-Yu shrugged, the flippant tone readily heard within his smooth voice. "The road to the Rock will be short, bloody, and decisive. Especially now that the Valemen havefinallystirred. Oh!" the boy's eyes grew bright. "Did I forget to make mention of that?" he laughed. "Thirty-thousand knights and men-at-arms of the Vale."
"Do they truly ride?" the Smalljon leaned forward.
"Yes, Umber. The Princess does not 'play,'" he turned to the large man once more, "and neither do the Fire Lord or the King. With all of her victories, it won't be long now until the Stranger, the Wolf, and the King have given the lions proper lesson about the absolute costs of rebellion," the boy smiled shamelessly, the pride of his people evident in his words.
Upon hearing the boy's words, Viserys could feel the dragon within. The one bearing his father's voice, was overjoyed at the thought of the Old Lion getting his just desserts, yet it felt equally conflicted with the thought that the Fat Stag was the one to serve it unto him. Despite the torrent of emotion swirling within, he knew the old dragon and the part of him that was crow, were utterly horrified at the massive loss of life promised by such a conflict. Viserys recognized that it would be a terrible setback for the Seven-Kingdoms, should the threat of the Other's be more than mere whispers and unfounded worries. Tightening his jaw, he felt the dark thought linger longer in his mind than he would have wished.
"Arrogance, indeed," the Smalljon uttered plainly, with dead eyes.
"Perhaps," Sho-Yu smiled, seemingly ignoring the Northman's ominous words. "And to think," he chuckled ruefully, "there had once been someuncertaintyabout her..." The silence hung in the air but a moment before the young man blinked, apparently having forgotten his audience. "In any event," Sho-Yu cleared his throat, "what were we discussing? Ah yes!" he clapped. "The Rivermen! Worry not about whatever fresh hell is causing theirrumoreddisappearances. In all likelihood, I suspect it is merely cowardly lions stealing away sleeping trout in the night, and spreading false words to frighten us. The Vale will ride through the Riverlands, to end the Kingslayer and his merry band once and for all, before joining with the King and the Princess to reduce the rock to rubble."
'I hope that is all it is. We can ill afford another otherworldly enemy,'Viserys thought to himself, as he glanced toward them with heavy eyes, the weariness of their trek suddenly making itself known to him. "The hour is late, we should retire for the night. An early morning awaits us," he said simply, rising from his seat and nodding his head towards each of those seated around the flame. Soon thereafter, as he set about readying his thin cot, he watched as the retainers of both the Yi-Tish boy and the Smalljon silently separated, returning back to their own respective camps with campfires of their own. Gripping the hilt of his Dragonglass dagger, he quietly sighed as he lay down, before finally succumbing to the exhaustion that overtook him.