Step of a Giant
Disclaimer- Game of Thrones and Campione do not belong to me. I am just borrowing them. English is not my first or second language so please be gentle with me.
"Normal Talk"
'Thoughts/internal monologue'
"Telepathic conversation"
"Gods/Goddesses Talking"
"Shouting"
'Chant'
Enjoy
Red Keep
Robert Baratheon was not happy. He was never happy, but he had always been able to distract himself with whores and tourneys. Right now he could not do so.
Someone had infiltrated and attacked the castle last night during the hour of the wolf. The intruder had decimated the defenders. The worst were the ones attacked near Godswood. The attacker, through some vile sorcery, had killed the goldcloaks and made them into dried-out husks. When he was first presented with the body, he could not believe that the man was alive yesterday. He asked the commander of the goldcloaks to be sure.
According to Pycelle, the dead bodies were missing various organs and all of their fluids. He had droned out various other things, but he had stopped listening. All he cared about was that his castle had been attacked and no one could do anything about it.
He was on his way to attend the meeting of small council for the first time in many moons. Counting coppers and passing the latest laws or judgments, he could pass them on to Jon, but not this. Someone's head was going to roll.
He entered the doors and found everyone already present except for himself and Barristan, who was guarding his back. He found his cursed wife present there as well. It immediately soured his mood further, but he pushed it down for now. His small council got up, but he did not pay them any attention. He briskly walked to take his seat at the head of the table, with Ser Barristan taking his own seat. He waited just enough for them to take their seats before he fired his first question.
"What have you found?" Nobody said anything at first. They all briefly looked at each other, and after a brief moment of silence, Vary volunteered to go first.
"A person matching the description of the attacker entered through the Gate of the Gods yesterday along with a child. They were wearing cloaks despite the warm weather. The guards at the gate did not bother to learn the identity. The man did not visit any inns or brothels, so it was difficult to track his movements. From what my little birds could learn, the man and his companion were last spotted near Aegon's Hill. None of the goldcloaks saw him enter or wander around in the castle, nor did any of the servants. Only after his attack on Lady Lysa did we learn of the infiltration. After the altercation with the goldcloaks, the attacker escaped. All attempts to capture him ended in failure. He broke the castle gates as well as west side walls of the castle when cornered. The man then... " Here Varys paused to look towards Janos Slynt before continuing to "stroll towards the Flea Bottom without his companion, after which the goldcloaks lost sight of him. We thought that he had left his companion here at the castle, but so far, the search has yielded no results. The city guard has closed the gates of the King's landing to deny his companion any escape.
"The goldcloaks have swept the Red-Keep from top to bottom but were unable to find the companion. Right now they are searching the city, but we have to assume that they have successfully escaped, your grace." Varys ended his report, waiting for the outburst.
Robert surveyed the table, looking for someone to contradict Varys' findings, but no one said anything.
"Someone came into the castle, attacked Lady Arryn, killed more than two dozen of the goldcloaks, successfully avoided capture, and strolled towards Flea Bottom, where you lost him. Am I missing something?" Here he looked at Janos Slynt, commander of the goldcloaks.
Janos cleared his throat nervously, trying to find his voice. "No, your Grace."
Everyone was silent for a few moments before they jumped when Robert banged his fist on the table, breaking it in two parts.
"Someone strolled into the centre of power of the Seven Kingdoms; put everyone on sword point and you have nothing to show?! You are sitting here, telling me that you know nothing about the attacker!" Nobody said anything, afraid of attracting the raging monarch's attention. The only one who was brave enough to do so was Jon Arryn. He put a hand on Robert's arm, and tension somewhat drained out of him.
"Calm down Robert."
"How can you ask me to calm Jon!? That fiend attacked Lady Arryn personally in my castle; he might as well have dismembered her! In my castle, Jon!" The rage was calm on the surface, but it was still simmering beneath. Jon knew that Robert respected him, and he alone, aside from Ned, was capable of handling Robert when he was in one of his moods.
"I am angry, Robert, furious even. But you have to look at it objectively. The attack was personal. Of all the people in the Red-Keep, that person attacked my wife, why? They did not go for the King, the Queen, or me or any other council members. I fear that the attack was the result of a grudge against my wife. We would not learn about it unless Lysa wakes.
"Above all, we know that whoever or whatever attacked us last evening was not normal, Robert. I have confidence that our city guards did not shirk their duties. You saw the aftermath. We have to consider the esoteric nature of last night's attack, and we need all the information we can gather before we can go ahead."
While Robert was right in his anger, for truly it was a punch in the gut to have the center of power of the Seven Kingdoms attacked so brazenly, it was not the time for that. The attacker was truly a fearsome opponent against whom the usual rules of engagement went out of the window. Jon had only ever heard of one having similar martial prowess in the north, his namesake.
No, he had confidence in Ned's teachings. He was probably overthinking. While it may not be far from the truth, Snow was not the only one. Essosai, especially Assahi, were probably the best-known practitioners of esoteric arts. Attacking from the shadows was nothing new to them, and he had heard plenty of tales of faceless men and shadow assassins.
"Given the nature of the attack, it is not outside of the realm of possibilities that we are dealing with an attacker of esoteric nature. Maester Pycelle, are there any records in the citadel that can shed light on this?" Jon asked Pycelle.
"I am not sure, Lord Hand. Though there are various records of mysticism from Essos and old stories of the children of the forest and white walkers from beyond the wall. The Valyrians had their dragons, and the Rhyonars had their water magic. But they are ages past. The Citadel had concluded that the age of magic was over and whatever may remain today is nothing more than simple parlor tricks." Jon sighed. The center of knowledge has failed them. He turned towards Varys.
"What do we know about the assailant Varys? Tell us what you have gathered that may help us divine his identity."
Varys hesitated for a moment. The day was certainly strange for him. He sometimes made miscalculations and showed his hands too early; he was a human after all. But he never hesitated, not when he convinced Aerys to crash the tourney of Harrenhal, not when he hid himself to avoid the massacre of the Red-Keep by Lannister guards, not even when he concocted half-hearted assassin attempts against the Targaryen children in Essos. Why would he hesitate when he had all the cards in his hands? After all, his trade was information.
But not this time. He was moving blindly, better than others, but still blind. He knew that the only way he could stop Robert Baratheon from breathing down his neck would be to reveal whatever meagre information he had gathered and stringed along, loathed as he was to do.
"Very little, I am afraid, Lord Hand. All the goldcloaks claim that the assailant was controlling some form of root made out of flesh that sprouted from the ground. Every goldcloak repeated the same thing. Preliminary reports add credence to these facts. There are various fissures in floors spread through the castle down to the path that the assailant took that suggest that something did burst out of the ground, adding credence to their tale. Along with the abnormal state of the corpses of the deceased, it is not out of the realm of possibility that the assailant is a practitioner of mystical arts.
Before Maester Pyselle administered poppy milk to Lady Lysa, I tried to get a description of her assailant."
Jon mentally noted down the facts, paying special attention when Varys confirmed that the assailant was a practitioner of mystical arts. He noticed that Varys was hesitating and asked him to continue.
"One thing that Lady Lyasa kept repeating was 'Stark Eyes'." Everyone became still at that comment, not sure how to react. Varys himself knew he had to be careful from here. Nobody wanted to say it, but it was clear to everyone that the assailant shared various characteristics with a certain northerner. One with unnatural martial prowess, an army killer, and one of the Stark bloodlines. Almost everyone came to the same conclusion, but no one dared to approach the topic.
Except for the Queen.
"There you have it. It was the bastard of Eddard Stark that attacked us. We should have seen this coming. The bastard tasted some power, and now he has become too big for his breeches. You should have ordered the bastard to present himself in court when you had the chance, but you were content with letting your friend handle it. Who knows what your friend taught him, but respecting his betters is not one of them. Or maybe that is what he was looking for: rebellion against the throne.
"If you are still too afraid to see the truth, then let my father handle the north. One way or another, my father will bring North to heel and present the bastard in court to answer for his crimes."
It was Jon Arryn's hand on Robert's arm that prevented the violent outburst that would have followed, but Varys could clearly see that it was a close thing.
Conversely, Varys believed that the king had gone beyond his usual anger. It would have been better if he had raved and ranted, but no. The King was looking for someone's head, and unfortunately for them, the queen had foolishly volunteered.
Accusing Eddard Stark of treason in all seriousness? The queen may think herself a player, but she is as subtle as the king.
As much as Varys and a certain mockingbird liked the thought of discord between the Stags and the Lions, it was not the right time. The Baratheon dynasty had strengthened their roots after the Greyjoy rebellion, and it would take time to erode the support if they wanted to guide the game in the direction they wanted.
Fortunately for their plan, one of the sentries standing outside the door interrupted the meeting. In his hands were two scrolls that he presented to Varys. To have one sent to him in broad daylight hinted at the serious and/or urgent nature of the information written in it. His thoughts were proven correct in both regards when he opened them.
He read the scrolls carefully, slotting the information present in them with events that occurred. If the content of the scrolls were correct, it would not bode well for the current power balance of the Seven Kingdoms. It took some time to digest all the information in it. He knew everyone on the table was looking at him, wondering about the content of the scrolls. He gently passed one of the scrolls to Jon Arryn.
"Two moons ago, a song came from one of my contacts at White Harbor. The Dreadfort was attacked, its garrison decimated, small folks scattered in the wind, and Lord Roose Bolton comatose in a serious condition, unknown to when if ever he will wake up. There was no proof, and I asked my contacts in the north to investigate.
"Another rumor came that claimed Jon Snow was present during the attack. He had travelled to Hornwood to deliver Roose Bolton's comatose body. From there, contradictory rumors began spreading. They painted Jon Snow as the attacker, but then why would he then bring Roose Bolton alive, if in serious condition? To demonstrate his strength? To dare the lords of the realms, or was there something more to the story?
"I asked my contacts to travel to Dreadfort, Hornwood and Winterfell to find the truth. It was difficult to find someone to agree to travel to the Bolton lands but one of the merchants that I have been in contact with agreed to travel there." Varys stopped there and took a sip of his wine to wet his throat, though Jon suspected that he merely wanted to increase the tension. He then pointed at the scroll in Lord Arryn's hand.
"He found most of the rumors to be true; the Dreadfort was indeed devastated and its lands barren. The way he described the scene there corresponds to the aftermath of what transpired here in the Red-Keep. Some of the corpses were flayed, while others were in similar condition to the ones here: dried-out husks.
"On the other hand, with the rumours going, I asked my little birds to investigate Jon Snow's part in it. After all, with the power in Bastard's hand, he could prove to be the greatest threat to the stability of the realm. But the task proved to be very difficult as Jon Snow did not disclose most of the events to anyone, and what he revealed could be put as delusional at best, so I asked my agents to look for survivors.
"It proved to be an arduous task to track down the survivors that ran away from the Bolton lands after that night. It took some time and effort, but my contacts managed to learn what happened that night in Dreadfort. Again, the eyewitness reports match the one that happened here: a cloaked figure attacking with fleshy roots.
"Given the similarities between the two attacks it can be speculated that both of these attacks were perpetuated by the same person."
"Jon Snow," the queen interrupted. "Call him by his name, Spider. It seems clear by your reports that Jon Snow is responsible for the attack on Dreadfort." She turned towards Robert and asked, "What more proof do you need, my love? Send a letter to Lord Stark and ask him to present himself and his bastard before the court to answer for his crimes. We need to send the message that no one is above the Iron Throne and treason will be dealt with swiftly."
Jon Arryn nodded at that. They needed answers and contained the situation, although they will need to think of a way to treat the young man delicately. As much as he wanted to punish the one responsible for the attack on his wife with his own hands, the situation needed to be handled with extreme caution.
"The Queen is right, your grace. I too believe it is time for him to present himself. But I am not sure if it is the right move to confront him in an aggressive manner. We heard how he had defeated a thousand Ironborns, as well as the destruction of Dreadfort and last night's attack. As of right now, we do not have any way to counter him if he decides to be antagonistic. We must proceed with caution." Jon cautioned Robert.
"Open your eyes Lord Hand. Jon Snow has already decided to be in opposition to the Iron Throne. What do you think he will do if he decides today that he is above the Iron Throne? No, he needs to learn the consequences of his action, along with Lord Stark's failure to properly educate the bastard."
"And how would you suggest we do that, my queen? We already have proof that confronting him head-on will be a foolhardy effort."
"No one is invincible, lord Hand, everyone has a breaking point, and Jon Snow is no different. He had fought with untrained ironborns and poorly equipped northern barbarians. He was able to overwhelm the goldcloaks because they were caught off guard. He will find that our trained and better equipped soldiers will provide more than enough challenge to him."
"How many soldiers are we expected to throw to capture him? A thousand, more? Will they be able to stop him before he does some serious damage? We have to be subtle; we need to find a way for Jon Snow to cooperate with us."
"Maybe old age is finally getting to you if you still think diplomacy could take care of the situation we are in!"
"Diplomacy may not be the answer, but it may buy us time to find a way to counter Jon Snow. Last I heard, the citadel is still searching for answers about Snow's power let alone finding a limit and countering it."
"Enough." Robert Baratheon finally broke his silence. "I held that boy in my hands when Ned first returned from Dorne. He is a son of Ned, bastard he may be and I would sooner believe in the presence of Seven before doubting Ned's upbringing.
"Through all of the Spider's reports, I have yet to hear him call out Jon Snow's name. I want to hear it from your mouth Spider, is Jon Snow responsible for the destruction of Dreadfort?"
Cersei was feeling frustrated at the King, though that was not new. He was always an irrational person when it came to Starks. Even during her wedding night, he called out that bitch's name.
Stark, stark, stark—oh, how she hated that name. First her husband, and now even her father, had started to look towards the north, all because of a bastard. He had even asked her to manipulate Robert to call the boy south, out of Eddard Stark's hand. As if she cared.
But now, when a chance presented itself to get the boy out in the open from his position of power, her husband was still reluctant to act upon it. No doubt because of the weak-minded advisor in the form of Arryn, who still preached diplomacy even when it was his wife who was grievously injured.
She looked towards the Spider and dared him to state otherwise. The Spider merely bowed his head towards Robert. "I was getting to your grace before our queen interrupted us. Given the lack of information about his full capabilities, it is not outside of the realm of possibilities that such esoteric skills might be in his capabilities."
"Quit playing your game and talk fast, Varys. I do not have patience; was Jon Snow responsible for the attacks or not?!" Varys conceded that he had stretched the situation long enough.
"No, your grace. Survivors claim that a figure in golden armor was fighting against a cloaked demon with a burning sword or a sword made of light. Jon Snow claimed that he had slain the one responsible for the massacre, so we can assume that he was the figure in armor. This fact is supported by the survivors who saw the fight."
"Clearly, he did not do a very good job, seeing that we were apparently attacked by the same attacker." Baelish spoke for the first time. He did not look like he was worried about anything that might happen to those who did not know him. Varys was not one of those people. He could see that, despite having an air of nonchalance, little finger was rattled and Varys knew why. The first guards to enter the chambers of Lady Arryn told him that the attacker wanted to know the location of a letter that was in Baelish's possession.
The attacker was after Baelish, and somehow Littlefinger had come to that realisation too. Varys had asked the guards to keep this information to themselves in the name of the stability of the realm. He needed time to find out the location and contents of the letter. But he was digressing.
"There is a reason for that, Lord Baelish. One of the sentries survived the massacre, and according to him, there were two attackers: one that attacked the village and another that somehow infiltrated the castle. So maybe there were really two attackers; the one attacking the village was confirmed to have been slain by Jon Snow, but no eyewitness reports were available for the fight that took place inside the castle. It could very well happen that the one inside somehow escaped and made his way here." The implications of the report did not sit well with everyone.
"Are you implicating that there are more such individuals out there, Varys?" Stannis asked him. Jon Snow was believed to be a unique individual that would become a symbol of power in the near future. But if Varys' implications were true, the way of war may change in the near future. If a Lord were to discover and employ these individuals in their service, then they may very well challenge the status of power.
"I am a spy, my Lord; I deal in information and hard evidence. So far, I have not had any evidence or other provable facts to present to this council at this moment. I am ashamed to say that we are wading in the dark, my lords. There are no new songs that may point towards the presence of more such individuals. I may have to contact my connections in Essos to see if they have heard of any similar incidents there."
Jon wanted to rub his face. He had hoped Robert's reign would be peaceful and prosperous, but this attack had opened his eyes to the harsh truth that a king cannot rest easy on the Iron Throne.
"Have your birds found any connections to these 'emergences'?" He asked Varys.
"None, aside from the fact that they all happened in the North. There are no signs or evidence that can point to their origin. They only come to light when one of them does something out of the ordinary, as was the case with Jon Snow and the other two attackers. Without any solid evidence, we can only speculate." Jon nodded his head. Varys was right; without any solid evidence, they can only speculate. But speculation without action can only lead to paranoia. They would need to find a solution to the problem soon.
Cersei gritted her teeth, it all came down to North again. It was like fate was laughing at her, if not for one thing, then for another. When her father learns about it, he will try to create ties with the North. But with House Stark at its helm, he will force her to convince Robert to increase ties with the north. As if he needed any more reasons.
Jon turned to Pycelle and said, "What do you make of it, maester? Are there any records of the north in Citadel that can help us solve this mystery?"
"Not much, Lord Hand. The North has always been insular about the outside, and they share their myths and histories through word of mouth. Rarely had any maester had the opportunity to write it all down. I will send a raven today to my colleagues to search for any books that may have records of all queer incidents, but our best bet would be to contact the maester of Winterfell. If there are any written records of northern myths and folklore, then they are most probably there. With the information they have, I am sure that they may be able to shine a light on these events."
"What I want to know, Varys, is why it took two moons for us to learn about the destruction of house Bolton." Stannis asked him.
"It was mere rumors, and I did not want to make a report on mere hearsay." Varys answered him.
"And what of Lord Stark?" Baelish interjected again. The lord of fingers was new to council, and it showed when he pointed his finger brazenly at the warden of the North, an amateurish move. "Is it not the duty of a warden to inform the monarchy of the major on-goings of their kingdom, especially of the destruction of a major house?"
"My birds in the Winterfell tell me that Lord Stark had in fact sent ravens all across the north, informing his vassals about the destruction of Dreadfort and to Lord Bolton's son, Domeric Bolton. Maybe the raven for his grace got lost on the way; at least that is what I believe." And that was the truth. He was not embellishing in any way. It would not make any sense otherwise to inform the realm and exclude the King. Eddard Stark was not a fool.
"Your Grace, it is high time that Lord Stark present Jon Snow to the realm. Whatever is going on in the north, Jon Snow is in the middle of it. We are in troubled times, and I believe that he will be the key to stability." Pycelle interjected. It was an excellent opportunity to get Jon Snow out of the grasp of Eddard Stark. Lord Tywin had been looking for the opportunity to get him under his umbrage, but Eddard Stark had been successful in keeping him out of the realm's notice but not out of everyone's mind.
"Pycelle is right, your grace; if Jon Snow had indeed encountered this man and forced him to retreat, then it is clear that he knows more about this than anyone else, and right now we need his expertise and martial powers before another attack of similar nature takes place." Jon agreed with Pycelle. Two attacks in two moons was a clear sign that it was just a matter of time before another attack.
"I am afraid that is no longer possible, Lord Hand. Due to the lack of evidence, Lord Stark believed that Jon Snow was the culprit behind the attack on Dreadfort and sentenced him to the Wall." Varys spoke.
"So he is bound to the Wall? Did he take his vows?" Pycelle asked with dread.
"No, maester, Jon Snow refused to accept the sentence and took voluntary exile. The last time he was seen was when he was walking out of Wintertown. One of my birds attempted to follow him but lost him in the woods. As of that moment, no one knows the whereabouts of Jon Snow or his destination." Varys stated it with a heavy tone. The words felt like stones to the council.
"You are the master of spies, and you are saying that you cannot find one boy. A boy that had the eyes of the whole realm on him?" Stannis asked him angrily. It was indeed a blunder on Varys part. For the last two years, everyone wanted to get their hands on Jon Snow, and now Varys says that he has vanished from the map of Westeros.
This news would put a cat among the pigeons. Various lords have inquired about the future of Jon Snow and if his father, Eddard, had any plans to send the boy to the capital. Till now, they were quiet, knowing that Lord Stark would be hesitant to send the boy south.
Ned had been in talks with Robert and him regarding the boy. He wanted to keep the boy as far away from captital as possible. In efforts to do so, he had asked the crown to return Queenscrown to the North in hopes that Jon Snow may one day become it's lord. Robert had asked him to immediately write to the Night's Watch, but Jon asked him to let him handle this. The Watch was already in a deplorable state, and he knew Ned would not want to weaken them any further. Concessions had to be made and boons had to be granted.
Now that the boy was no longer in Winterfell, the nobles of the realm would stop at nothing to get their hands on the boy. It was an unspoken truth that whoever had the boy under their patronage would become the most powerful lord in all of the Seven Kingdoms.
Any other time, the king would have sent his forces across the nation to find the boy. But with the attack on the capital, in the heart of Red-Keep; it would be a folly to spread their forces. The presence of the boy in the capital would have mitigated the situation, but it was not an option anymore. The boy's value increased a thousandfold. If it got out that there are others out there that possess abilities on a similar level to Jon Snow, then it would become a race to find more like him. But the most important factor was that Jon Snow was a known quantity, while others may as well be hostile.
"How long can you keep the disappearance of Jon Snow under cover?" Jon asked Varys.
"Not for long, my lord. There are already rumors spreading to the north, especially White Harbor. From there, it is only a matter of time before the sailors there spread the news. The Lords of the North are already looking for him after Lord Stark's raven. I have already taken measures to discredit the information, but it would not hold for long." Varys informed him regrettably.
"Do what you can, Varys, we cannot have this information become common knowledge. I also want you to keep the knowledge of the true extent of the attack on the Red-Keep from spreading. If this becomes common knowledge, then our enemies may try to seek out the attacker." Everyone at the table nodded at that, even Queen Cersei.
"And find them Varys, the attacker, and Jon Snow. Spread your birds as far as you can. I want news about them at the next council meeting. I want Ned's boy here. It would seem that even Ned could make a mistake, but I could not allow his boy to suffer. Pycelle, send a raven to the watch. They are not to accept Jon Snow, no matter what. Send all the prisoners that we have in the black cells to the wall." Despite Robert's motivation, he was right. They needed Jon Snow here before any Targaryen loyalists got their hands on him.
But the vipers of the King's court would snap this information for their own gain. As much as the Hand liked to think that the members of the council worked for the stability of the realm, he knew some would not, and he was afraid of them.
By the end of the next day, Tywin will know and plan. At least with his grandson as the heir of the throne, Tywin will not want to jeopardize that.
Targaryen loyalists would start coming out of the woods for a potential alliance with Jon Snow. The Targaryens had their army killers in the form of dragons. With the decline in dragons, so did their power. Jon Snow represented this power and was a powerful piece in the game, perhaps the most powerful one as he was a known quantity. The only thing he lacked was a name, but nobody would care about it. The Targaryens had a girl to offer, if they were desperate enough.
He needed to get to the boy fast, before anyone else. And he needed to send a raven to Ned. Whatever happened in North, to house Bolton, he needed all the information that he had.
While the hand was thinking about controlling the narrative, the vipers of the royal court were thinking about ways of finding and gaining the allegiance of the boy now that he was out of the shadows of Eddard Stark. After all, how hard could it be to gain the allegiance of a boy of twelve namedays? Money would sway most of them; after all, everyone had a price. This was the thought of the mockingbird. While he was planning to make his next move, he also had to consider the fact that someone was after him.
He had learned from the guards that the last name in Lysa's mouth was his name. The attacker was after something, and apparently it was connected to him. That, along with the fact that Lysa was mumbling about 'Stark eyes', may indicate that the attacker was somehow connected to the Starks. He did not know and would not know until Lysa woke up. He cursed the fact that Lysa was not in a condition to answer any questions. She was already unstable after several miscarriages, and this attack may have loosened whatever was left inside her head. He was scared, but he was confident in the fact that he could always think of a way out. He would not have reached where he is now without having a plan for every situation. It was imperative that he gain the allegiance of the bastard to have an added layer of protection against the mysterious attacker. He would also have to look for any future queer incidents that may happen. After all, if there were three, there would be bound to be more. Having one in his service would land him a permanent place on the board of players. He needed to increase his number of brothels in the North because, as it seems, the North was at the center of these emergences.
The same was true of the thought process of the spider. There was another power aside from Jon Snow that could potentially stand on the same grounds as him. Maybe not on equal terms, but arrangements could be made; at least he could fight Snow one-on-one. He would hedge his bets. Jon Snow would be a better choice, but now he is not the only one. He would, of course, strive to find both of them and any more that may emerge in the future, but he now had a choice about how to spin his webs.
As much as he hated magic, he was intelligent enough to know that discarding a piece because of a personal vendetta was never a smart move. He needed to consult with Illyrio about this latest development quickly. After all, everyone would be running to get their hands on these new pieces.
The same day, Renly rested in Loras' arms, where he informed him of the ongoing small council. From there, the information easily made its way to the hands of the Tyrells.
It would take two days before the information made its way to Dorne, disturbing the anthill.
On a related note, the north saw a slow trickle of people from the south coming onto their lands. Though these outsiders tried very hard to mingle with the local populace, the north had a deep mistrust of someone not their own. But still, it reminded the lords of the north that, however far they may be from the capital, they were still part of the Seven Kingdoms.
…And with this, a race started. Jon Snow and the unknown attacker dared to infiltrate and humiliate the power of Westeros.
Water Garden, Dorne
Doran Martell was sitting in his receiving room in the water gardens. He was overlooking the city while waiting for his brother to come. He had received news from his agents a sennight ago about an attack on the Red Keep. Of course, such news was not to be taken lightly.
He would have flogged his servant for bringing such a joke, but the emergence of Jon Snow two years ago had stood in his way. He had sent his people to the ports to interrogate the ships that had anchored in King's Landing to find the truth. The stories that spewed forth the sailors' lips were exaggerated beyond proportion, but at bare bones they were all the same, if not still ridiculous.
While a part of him was happy that the Usurper was not safe, it also presented an unknown piece on the board that represented chaos. For a player like him who worked for a lifetime to place the pieces perfectly, it was like someone had flipped the board.
But it was not time for lamentation; he had sent for his brother. He had been imprisoned inside Sandship for killing a group of merchants that clearly were lannisters, near Starfall. For too long, his brother had accused him of being passive and had lashed out when he heard that the Lannisters were sniffing near Starfall, likely for the truth about the boy's mother, who was rumored to be Ashara Dayne. He could not blame them; after all, it was the first thing he did after the ravens about the massacre of Ironborns near Winterfell reached Dorne.
The only one he could blame was Oberyn, who could not control his baser urges. But right now, there was no better man than his brother, whom he could entrust this very serious task to.
Just then, the guard who he had sent to fetch his brother came back running, and he cursed his brother. Apparently, he had escaped the Sandship with his paramour and daughters. A note was left in his room, which revealed nothing but saying that Oberyn was going out for a long walk, which could mean anything.
Doran was reminded of the reason why he hated chaos: it was due to his brother Oberyn.
Godswood, Winterfell
Eddard Stark was running a cloth on ice, trying to clean it. Not that it had any effect; Valyrian steel never gathered dust, untouched by time and pristine as the day it was brought out of the forge. But it did not matter; it helped calm his mind.
But the recent turmoil could not be calmed, no matter what he did. In a moment of insanity, he had forgotten the promise he had made to his sister. When he heard about the destruction of Dreadfort and the presence of Jon there, the only thing he could think about was the Targaryen insanity. He had done the one thing he swore he would never do: blame a child for their parent's crimes.
He had raised the boy himself; he should have known better. The most surprising thing was that it was his wife, Catelyn, who had implored him to think carefully. He had been surprised that day when Catelyn confronted him after the debacle of the trial. Perhaps it made more of an impact when Jon's biggest detractor came to his support. She made him see that he was looking at Jon like he had gone mad with power, but that was not who Jon was.
He had asked for reasons why. Why was she defending Jon when her biggest wish was granted, Jon was no longer in Winterfell, and the biggest threat to Robb's rule was gone? She hesitated for a moment, but she revealed the events that transpired the night of Ironborn's attack, about his promise and, most of all, his love for his siblings. Such a boy could not be guilty of the massacre of innocents, and even if he were, there should be evidence to prove him guilty. He was the son of a lord and should be treated as such.
It was at that moment that he realized that he was the one acting like Aerys, not Jon. He had accused him and, without any evidence, sentenced him. He rode out the next day towards Dreadfort, for he could not send anyone else. He had to see it himself and find evidence of either Jon's innocence or guilt. He had a contingent of guards with him alongside Robb, whom he could not deter. Robb had been froth with him by the way he had treated Jon, all his children. But even so, he had reasoned well that, as his heir, he should be seen by the people of the North. Eddard knew that Robb had been hurting and did not have the heart to refuse him.
Before he had left, he instructed Luwin to send ravens to all the houses of the north, but only about the destruction of Dreadfort and the condition of its lord. He was only to mention that he himself had gone to investigate it along with his heir. Luwin was not to make any implication about Jon's role in any way. He had rescinded Jon's sentence, and it was to be visited at a later date.
He was met with Halys Hornwood, lord of Hornwood Castle near the Bolton lands. Jon had delivered Lord Roose to his castle in his care. Halys had brought with him one of the survivors of the Dreadfort. It had been difficult; no one wanted to admit to having hailed from Dreadfort in fear that the lords would force them to return. It was only after deep assurance and promise for a work in Hornwood Castle that Darryn, one of the survivors, volunteered to come forward with the information.
Darryn had been hesitant to speak in front of the Warden of the North, but as he started his tale, he gained confidence. He spun a tale of a monster and a hero quite out of the realm of possibility and straight from old Nan's tale. But as they neared Dreadfort, they were forced to rethink their beliefs.
He could still remember the feeling of the land; it was akin to heaviness in the air, warning everyone they were not supposed to be there. The stench of rotten flesh permeated the land despite the cold, and their steeds refused to move further. He was worried for Robb, but he proved his steel, even though he was afraid. He refused to show it on his face.
They unmounted to move further when it became clear that the horses would not move any further. It had been a moon and a half, but the land felt like it was still bleeding. The bodies of smallfolk were strewn across the village, rotten, flayed and bloodless. It was a scene of massacre and a scene of battle between two titans.
Or monsters.
He could hear his soldiers praying to the old gods for salvation, but he was sure that the old gods had forsaken this place. It was through his sheer pride and northern stubbornness that he was able to enter the destroyed castle.
He could only imagine the events of the attack unfolding in his mind, half from what Darryn had told them and half from the state of destruction. It looked like something had broken through the walls and battlements. Though Darryn was not present in the castle, it was not hard to imagine what had transpired in the castle. And it was not done through mortal means.
Gods! Demons come out of the stories, attacking people around them, and a knight in golden armour protects people with a flaming sword in his hands. It sounded like one of Sansa's stories about the Warrior, but here he was, witnessing the aftermath, and he did not know what to make of it.
No, that was not right. He knew what it was, or at least he had an inkling. Jon had been shouting his throat out, but he had refused to just see it. There was more to the world than he had believed, and Jon was somehow connected to it. Or worse yet, middle of it.
One of the soldiers wondered out loud that maybe Jon was responsible for at least half of the destruction. Darryn had asked about who this Jon Snow was that they spoke of. When Robb explained to him who Jon was, Darryn was violently insistent that Jon Snow was their protector.
Apparently, the survivors of the Dreadfort have started worshipping Jon. They did not know his name but had dubbed him simply the Warrior. Already, the story of the destruction of Dreadfort and the fight between the Warrior and the Demon had become part of local folklore shared by the smallfolk, one they had overheard in several taverns on their way but had paid no mind to it. But with the truth, he himself would have to speak, and the rumors would become facts.
Soon, Jon's legend will spread, and there is no way to stop it. Not if he wanted to absolve Jon after accusing him. He was not naïve; by now, his accusations would have made their way across the land, and any chance of Jon returning home depended on him clearing his name.
Jon was already famous, and this will only increase his notoriety. It was already too late.
He did not want to leave anything to chance or speculation, so he asked Halys to summon the maester of the Hornwood castle.
That was a headache and a half.
The maester, point blank, refused to entertain the idea that anything out of the ordinary had happened there. Medrick Flowers, hailing from Reach, as his name suggested, was proving to be more of an obstacle. He could understand the skepticism about the nature of event that occurred there, but the blasted maester was proving to be something else and spoke in a conceited tone when Ned first asked about the supernatural element that could be responsible. It was Halys who had reminded the maester to remember who was standing in front of him and to watch out for his tone.
Eddard had looked the maester coldly in the eyes and asked him to provide a reasonable explanation to the events that occurred here. Medrick had spluttered but could not give a reasonable explanation.
Eddard had dismissed him and sent runners to Manderly Castle to ask for their maester and elders if they could be found. He would have liked to have old Nan there, but he would have to make do.
They spent almost a moon there with various lords, who ultimately made their way there. The destruction of a castle and surrounding lands was no small matter, and everyone wanted to know the cause. When they heard that their lord was making his way there, they decided to make their way there. He wanted to send Robb back home but decided not to as it would prove favorable for Robb to spend time in the company of the lords. Some had brought their heirs with them when they learned that Robb was present there.
It was the house Flint of the Mountains, otherwise known as the First Flints, that proved to be most useful. They had kept up with all the myths and tales of the old. They had their first breakthrough.
An elder who was perhaps older than old Nan. He was already on his way to Dreadforts before the ravens about its destruction reached the Flints.
Something about the awakening of old magic.
He had taken a look at the land and proclaimed it to be the work of the old gods. They were naturally skeptical of the proclamation, but in the absence of any other explanation, they decided to listen to his tale.
Old Man Harrow began to spin the tale of the unnamed god who was worshipped by the Red Kings of old. The one god who became mad by the end of a long night was banished from the pantheon of the old gods, and his name was scrapped from the records. It was forbidden to speak its name in the hopes that the god would die in obscurity when its name was forgotten.
But it would seem that the Boltons continued their practice even after it was forbidden after the unification of the north. Or at least that is what Old Man Harrow speculated.
Ned did not want to accuse one of the great houses without evidence, but with the overwhelming need to find the cause, he ordered the Bolton castle to be searched for everything, no matter how unassuming.
It opened a pit of worms that he was not ready for. Secret doors leading to torture chambers, a grotesque trophy room, and holding cells that were only accessible through the lord's chambers. The less said about the trophies, the better; some of them are not even a year old. Worst of all, it was all happening under Stark's rule.
He wanted Bolton Lord to get better, if only to kill him with his own hands. He did not need this in the present political climate. He had foolishly exiled Jon, and his bannermen would soon start questioning him about it.
They already did when they asked about the truth behind the banishment of Jon Snow. He asked them what they would have done differently if such news had reached them. Was it not true that some lords suspected Jon when the news reached their castle? He admitted that he had jumped to conclusions without evidence and declared Jon guilty, and he deeply regretted that decision. He assured them that he had already made up his mind to lift Jon's banishment and would send ravens across the land to declare it so. He asked them to keep an eye out for him.
He had sent a raven to Domeric Bolton about his father's condition and the state of his lands. The lad was sure to make his way north. He will be thoroughly questioned if he knew or had any part in the on-goings of the Bolton lands. He would have to tread carefully because they still had too many connections to major houses, and Domeric was the grandson of Lord Ryswell. The lords agreed with his decision.
Whatever may happen, Boltons would shoulder most of the blame. But that still did not clear what had truly happened. As much as he wanted to believe Old Man Harrow's tale, he hoped that there was another explanation. Otherwise, he would not know how to respond to problems like this. Maybe the man who attacked the castle was blessed by the gods, just like Jon was.
He had instructed all the lords gathered there to keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary and to send a message immediately.
One thing was clear: their world was changing, and he needed Jon with him.
He had tried to tell the truth, but he ignored it and called it Targaryen madness. Seven Hells, he should have tried to investigate the attack on Jon more thoroughly, but he had gradually stopped after the Maesters of Citadel returned to their domain. Worst of all, he had buried his head in snow in hopes that Jon would fade into obscurity in the south.
He had prayed to gods, both old and new, to hold back any more incidents before Jon's return.
...all for naught. Gods really do laugh at the plans of mice and men.
He was met with a rider on their way back to Winterfell. The Red Keep was attacked. Apparently, it was the same monster that destroyed the Dreadfort.
God knows how the small council reached the conclusion that the Dreadfort was attacked by a monster before he did. No, he knew how the news reached King's Landing before he could inform them. It was the work of Spider. He had foolishly hoped that Jon's name would disappear from people's minds if he kept out of sight, but it would seem that the nobles of the south really did want to get their hands on Jon. In hindsight, he could not believe that he had acted so foolishly. As much as he wanted to deny it Jon would be forced to make his way to the south sooner or later. The nobles would not accept anything less.
As much as he hated the Spider, he was glad that the words came out of his mouth because he was not sure how he would have broken the news in the southern court without sounding mad himself. He had raced to the castle to know what had really happened in the south.
The letter was penned by his foster father. In it, he informed him about the attack on the Red Keep, especially on his wife Lysa. The attacker had injured her and successfully strolled out of the castle before the guards lost him in the city. He had briefly described the attacker, who seemed more like a man with powers than the monster described by the survivor. But the fact remained that both of these attacks were similar, though not as devastating. Jon has asked him all the information that he knew about the attacker and the testimony of Jon Snow. The letter also admonished him slightly for mishandling the case so badly, and Ned accepted it wholeheartedly.
The matter of Jon's disappearance was being handled delicately, but his foster father asked him to lift the banishment and recall the boy as soon as possible. Two attacks in two moons were already too many, and any more would disturb the fragile stability. With the unknown enemy, nobles will start to point fingers at each other and the king. Jon did not need to write more because Eddard already knew why exactly it was bad. If it became known that there were people out there who were blessed by gods, then it would provoke another holy crusade from the worshippers of the Seven.
He needed to contact his foster father. As much as he hated the idea of Jon travelling south in the pit of vipers, it was inevitable. Who knows how Jon will handle the meeting with Robert, knowing that the man was responsible for killing his father? As much as he would have liked to say that he had instilled honor in Jon, his attempt to hide Jon and his attitude towards him may not have done him any favors.
But the most important question still remained. Where was Jon?
Bravaos
Just yesterday, he had reached Braavos after his escape from King's Landing. It was rather easy to sneak off in all the chaos. It also helped that the goldcloaks were doing their best not to approach him. He had made his way to the harbor and boarded the first ship that was leaving the harbor. Fortunately for him, the ship was bound for Gulltown. From there, he boarded another ship that was leaving for Braavos. He thanked the fates for the good fortune of a peaceful voyage. He had the coin, and the captain was not too keen on finding out his identity.
The peace on the ship had given him time to ponder the events that had happened. He had to admit that he handled the situation in King's Landing poorly, but it could still be mostly blamed on the influence of the flayed god. When he had dispersed his authority, it felt like suddenly his mind was much clearer, whereas before he was rather callous with the lives of the goldcloaks and did not shy away from maiming the lady, Arryn. While he was not wrought with guilt for what he had done, he could admit that it was not the way he would have chosen to express his anger. He needed to know more before he would dare to use that power again. Unfortunately for him he had left his guide for the old gods back in Westeros and he was not sure where to find another one in Essos or if there was one.
But none of this mattered right now because he felt like he had used all his luck while coming to Essos. In front of him stood a dozen guards, and at the head of them was a boy older than him.
"You will pay for your transgression, Westrosai! Pray to your gods because you are going to meet them soon enough."
It was only his second day in Braavos. Was it too much to ask for time to appreciate what this city had to offer? He wanted to see the Iron Banks, the House of Black and White, the Temple of the Moonsingers, Ragman's Harbor, Drowned Town, and many more. He had read about them, and some of them were as famous as the Wall. But the only thing he had seen was the Titan of Braavos. That was not to say it was not impressive, but he wanted to see more.
While Jon was lost in his thoughts, the boy in front of him was becoming agitated with his lack of reaction. He motioned his captain of guards to attack Jon. The captain, a broad shouldered man in pristine leather armor approached Jon with a spear in his hands. While not on par with the Mountain or some of his father's (uncles) bannermen, the captain was not less intimidating in his stature. He had been serving as the captain of household guards for the boy's father for a long time and he had an impressive record to show for it. The young master had come to his lord, demanding he punish a Westrosai who dared to impeach his honor. His lord had ordered him to accompany the young master and settle the matter.
When he saw the boy, clearly new to the city based on his wide-eyed look, he debated whether he should speak. But then he reminded himself that it was not his place to question the orders. This boy had somehow humiliated his young master, and now he would have to pay for it with his life. Such was the way of the world. The only thing he could do was give the boy a fighting chance. Maybe if he could impress him, he would ask his lord to spare his life and take him on as his apprentice. The boy was good enough that he had defeated the young master's bodyguards with a wooden sword. With a yell, he brought down the spear on the boy with half his strength. He despairs when the boy foolishly tries to catch the blade with his hand.
Just then, the world went dark.
To be continued
Hey readers, the ones that are left. Sorry for the long wait, but you get what you asked for, I hope. A lot of you wanted to read what would happen when Eddard found out the truth of the attack. So I tried to make Eddard somewhat aware of what was truly going on and hope that it was satisfactory.
Personally, I am not happy with this chapter, as too much chaos was going on with my life and I could not give this chapter my total focus. In the future, I may revisit this chapter.
Now onto the notes.
A lot of what you suggested I make the flayed god some type of Lovecraftian horror and I found quite a merit in the idea.
But then came the Gyeonseong Creature, and I saw the monster. Guys, it was exactly how I imagined the transformation of Ramsay and Roose Bolton, minus the mass and adding a cloak. So looking at this, I have decided the name of Flayed God to be 'Najin'.
The true extent of its power is something that I am still working on, but you guys have some excellent suggestions, and I will trim them according to the need. I added some mental aspects of accessing the powers for Jon, like the aggressiveness in his approach while dealing with Lysa. The Warriors power do not change much as Jon is already honorable and noble.
That is all for now, and I hope to see you guys soon.
Bye