Robb Returns first started off at the Alternate History forum, where a number of very talented people have commented/contributed ideas/ submitted astonishingly good pictures (check out these images by Lucife56 here: /works/14977904/chapters/34710737). This chapter was written by Sardar, with my permission, from the alternate history forum. Enjoy!
Daeron
The young Lord of the Red Dunes sat on the side of his bed, having just woken up from a restless night's sleep. He couldn't remember the last time he had gotten a good night's rest, and yet he also couldn't remember what he was having dreams about. But, somehow, he knew it was the same dream every night because he kept waking up cold and shivering. How strange, he thought to himself.
Getting up from his bed, he picked up his Valyrian steel sword, Truth, that was leaning against the wall on his left. It felt good in his hand as he swung it around, trying carefully not to cut himself, even though he had been practising tirelessly with it for the past several months.
The blade itself was a brilliant black with a wavy pattern that strangely almost seemed to move, as if the ocean itself was contained inside the blade. The grip was made of a rare unpolished dark hardwood from the Summer Isles, and the crossguard made of the same hardwood inlaid with spiralling tendrils of ivory that fed into the rain guard. The circular rain guard and the pommel were made of the same ornately carved ivory, and inlaid into the rain guard was the symbol of House Vaith, three leopards, carved from rare black pearls. That part was complement of his father, who had had the ivory carved from symbol of House Rogare, his mother's family. The sword was truly a work of art. And it had ended up here, in the Vaith, with him. Daeron's mind then thought back to when he had first received the blade from his grandmother.
It was on Daeron's sixteenth nameday, when he legally came of age. When she gave him Truth, she told him that it was the ancestral Valyrian steel sword of House Rogare, once a prosperous banking family from Lys which was now destitute. The blade had been used for centuries in Essos in many wars and conflicts, but Mygor Rogare, Daeron's maternal grandfather, had wanted to sell the blade to revive the family fortune.
Daeron's mother, however, did not want the blade to leave the family and end up in some fat Magister's house collecting dust, so she decided to secretly take it from her family estate in Lys, unbeknownst to her father. And when she married his father, Lord Aron Vaith, she hid it in the Vaith, out of reach of her father. They both had intended for him to use it when he came of age and pass it on to his heirs, but they would never see that day. Daeron's parents had died when he was just a baby, and he subsequently was raised by his grandmother. Holding the sword for the first time after hearing how it had come into his possession had flooded him with emotion; he had been joyous and sad, melancholy and proud all at the same time.
But then Grandmother had gone on, lecturing to him about how he had a responsibility as the last trueborn member of House Vaith to "continue the family line" and marry as soon as possible. That was the worst part of the day, and she continued to drone on about his other Lordly responsibilities after that. It was all extremely boring from that point on, not like how he expected his sixteenth nameday to be.
He then walked over to his desk and sat in his chair, seeing the stack of ravens on his desk that had piled up over the past several months. In these letters were disputes he had to oversee, the tax reports of the smallfolk, agricultural production of his realm, and a mess of other things.
Daeron sighed and rubbed his forehead. Before grandmother had died just a few weeks after his nameday, she had gradually been acclimating him to the work of a Lord, but now he had to take it all on himself, though Maester Horenn helped out quite a bit. And yet, even with all of this work to do, he had even more to think about.
The fact that magic had apparently returned to the world had been the first of the things that had greatly puzzled him. Maester Horenn dismissed it as some sort of mistake, a wrong message that came from some confused Maester in Oldtown. That was a few months ago. Things had gotten only stranger after that.
Then the "Call" had gone out and everything went sideways. Some smallfolk from the Vaith began to leave and head North, and others began to stock up on food and supplies. Several Stony Dornish Lords had even started to send supplies and men to the Wall. Even the stars had shifted, he had noticed when stargazing at night.
And Uncle Alster had left from Starfall practically possessed and, not to mention, very ill, yet he had made it to King's Landing where he died and made his cousin Ned the new Sword of the Morning. If that wasn't unsettling enough, word had spread that Stormbreaker, the Fist of Winter, and Otherbane had all been uncovered by Houses Baratheon, Stark and Tyrell respectively. All great, ancient weapons made in the time of the First Men, he had learned. Even the King himself had gone to Winterfell.
But Maester Horenn had been very dismissive of all these events, saying that it either must have been false news or some kind of new plot by the Starks and Baratheons. Sadly, he was like the rest of the Sandy and Salty Dornish Lords, stubborn and skeptical. But he knew that all of it was true. He had not heard the Call, but he felt it.
What was he to do?
Daeron was then suddenly shaken out of his thought when someone knocked on his bedroom door.
"Come in" He said.
Maester Horenn opened the door and the short, bald and friendly looking Dornishman walked into his bedroom holding a letter. Daeron stood up and greeted the man who had helped raise him with a smile.
"Good Morning, Horenn. How are you?"
"Well, My Lord, thank you for asking" Horenn replied. "I have a message for you".
"Is it from Lord Gargalen again? " Daeron groaned. "Does he still want me to marry that ugly granddaughter of his?"
"No, Daeron, but you should watch how you speak of your fellow Lords and Ladies. Besides, you should be thinking of marriage matches anyway, you are-"
Daeron quickly interrupted, "I know 'the last of my family line' and all that. Can you just tell me where the message is from?
Horenn sighed and said, "It is from Winterfell".
"Winterfell? Why would I receive a message from there?".
"It is most peculiar, My Lord. A messenger that claimed he had come here straight from White Harbor delivered it just a few minutes ago. He said it was most urgent. And it bears the seal of House Dayne on it".
As Daeron received the letter from Maester Horenn he looked at the red wax seal. A falling star crossed by a sword.
"It must be from my cousin, Lord Edric". Daeron said curiously. Why had Ned written him? He should be in Winterfell right now, and it would take weeks to get a raven from all the way up North down to Dorne, and even longer on horseback. As he unfurled it, he noticed it was rather long.
"How strange. He is the new Sword of the Morning, correct?" Horenn asked. Daeron nodded and began to read.
Cousin,
It is good to write you again, though I wish it was under better circumstances. I know I have not seen you in a couple of years, but I still consider you to be a close family member and a good friend. And now you are some of the only family I have left. Some of the only family I have that I can rely on, that is.
They had that in common, he thought. Ned was the only family he had left other than that whoreson, the Darkstar.
First I must let you know of what has transpired here recently in Winterfell. Cersei Lannister, the Queen, was found coupling with her brother, Ser Jaime Lannister of the Kingsguard. It was witnessed by Lord Eddard Stark, Lord Stannis Baratheon, and Ser Barristan Selmy. Ser Jaime has also confessed to fathering the Royal children, and they have been taken out of the succession. Both have been arrested. Ser Jaime then fought the King in a Trial by Combat and lost, and is going to the Wall to take the Black.
He had to re-read that part several times before it truly sunk in. He had no personal grudge against the Lannisters, but as a Dornishman, he was usually expected to be happy at news like this. He was not. He knew what this meant for the realm. Maester Horenn, seeing the shock on his face, made a face that would seem he thought that Daeron had turned purple.
"What is it?" Horenn said worryingly at him.
Peeling his eyes off of the letter, Daeron quietly replied, "The Queen was found having….relations…. with her brother, Ser Jaime Lannister of the Kingsguard, in Winterfell. Witnessed by Lord Eddard Stark, Lord Stannis Baratheon and Ser Barristan Selmy" Daeron said flatly, staring into the space in front of him. "And...the Royal Children have all been taken out of the line of succession, as they were found to be born of this incest, by the confession of Ser Jaime Lannister".
Daeron could almost hear Maester Horenn's jaw drop to the floor.
"What?!" Horenn shouted.
"With...with... her.. brother?..then...the true heir is Lord Stannis!" He continued, stammering. "Bu.. But he has only a sickly girl as his heir! This is disastrous!... The realm has no true heirs!.." He trailed off, seemingly going into his own form of shock. But Daeron kept reading the letter, ignoring Horenn's reaction.
But there is a greater matter I write to you about. The Others have returned. There is proof. On the road to Winterfell, I saw a man of the Night's Watch carrying the caged head of a wight, which is a corpse raised from the dead by the Others. He carries it south from beyond the Wall to show proof of what we face.
By this time, Daeron was in too much shock not to keep reading, so, after a pause and re-reading that section several times over, he went on with the letter.
I can only imagine what you must be thinking right now. If I had not seen the wight myself, I would not have believed it. But I know you have heard the Call. The blood of the First Men is strong. I must ask that you join me here in Winterfell. The entire the Realm needs all the help it can get if we are going to defeat the Others and drive back the Night.
I hope to see you soon, Cousin.
- Ned
As Daeron finished the letter, he set it down on his desk next to the other ravens. He then took a very audible gulp, and could feel himself beginning to sweat.
It almost seemed surreal, like he was in some sort of nightmare. Then Maester Horenn picked up and read the letter, and re-read it, and re-read it again, at which point he began to rub his very sweaty bald head vigorously and rapidly tap his foot on the ground
Daeron then slowly strode over to the balcony in his room overlooking the River Vaith, and gazed out towards his realm.
He saw the orchards, and the fruit trees heavy with blood oranges, lemons, and grapefruits, ripe for picking, that extended along the coastline of the River Vaith and into the harsh desert for several leagues. And the River, which cut through the rocky hills and red sands of the Dornish desert like a knife made of sapphire, which gave life to the desert.
He saw the slim merchant barges that went up and down the River Vaith, docking at the small jetties on the banks of the river, bringing goods to trade in the small village that surrounded the tall and pale castle of the his ancestors.
It all seemed so peaceful. He almost wanted to stay here in the warmth of the Dornish Sun, where his home was. Where it was safe.
But that thought was quickly wrenched from his mind as he imagined all of this all destroyed, frozen in eternal winter, and his people killed and raised from the dead as wights by the Others.
Daeron then turned around, to face his bedroom and Maester Horenn who was sitting at his desk in deep thought. He then stared at Truth, which still leaned against the wall next to his bed. He would definitely be using the blade, though he wished it was under better circumstances.
"Horenn," Daeron said in a hoarse voice.
"Yes, My Lord?" Horeen replied as he quickly turned his head towards him.
"Have the servants prepare my things. And find the fastest ship coin can buy. I must leave for Winterfell at once".