"In this story, Qhorin Halfhand holds the position of First Ranger."
- VERY AU (Alternate Universe)
- Some characters are out of character.
This is a story based on the Game of Thrones books and TV series, but be warned, it's a very AU (Alternate Universe) story. If you're someone who doesn't enjoy a story that deviates a lot from canon, where certain characters may act out of character, or if you're not a fan of romance with a good amount of fluff, and a story that ultimately has a happy ending, then this may not be the right story for you.
WINTERFELL 298 AC Different scenes happening simultaneously.
Eddard, Benjen, Bran, Jojen, and Meera (Winterfell)
As Eddard observed Meera and Jojen Reed, a sense of surprise washed over him. His old friend, Lord Howland Reed, had not accompanied his children, a fact that intrigued him. Meera's demeanor, with her determined gaze and unwavering presence, reminded him distinctly of her father. There was a certain fire in her eyes, a bravery that mirrored Lord Howland's own.
Eddard's mind momentarily drifted to the shared history between House Stark and House Reed. Howland's loyalty and bravery and the trials they had faced together during Robert's Rebellion, the loss, and sacrifice that had strengthened their friendship and forged a bond between their houses that stood the test of time.
"Meera, Jojen," Eddard began, his voice carrying warmth, "the children of my dear friend, Lord Howland Reed, are always welcome at Winterfell. It brings me great joy to see you both here."
Meera offered a respectful nod, her expression reflecting gratitude. "Thank you, Lord Eddard. It is an honor to be here at Winterfell."
Jojen echoed his sister's sentiment with a polite bow. "Indeed, my lord. We are grateful for your hospitality."
Intrigued by Lord Howland's absence, Eddard couldn't help but inquire, "But where is your father, Meera, Jojen? Why did he not accompany you?"
Meera's demeanor shifted slightly, a shadow passing over her features. "Our father, Lord Eddard, has remained in the Neck, attending to matters of great importance concerning our house."
Jojen interjected, his voice tinged with concern, "He sends his regards and regrets that he could not join us, but he deemed it necessary to stay behind. But fear not, Lord Eddard, when the time comes and the threat from the far north becomes a reality, House Reed shall heed the call to arms. Our forces shall rally alongside House Stark, as tradition dictates and honor demands."
"How do you know about the potential threat looming over Westeros?" Eddard inquired, his voice betraying a hint of astonishment, his gaze shifting to Benjen, who was observing Jojen intently.
"He is a Greenseer, brother," Benjen remarked, offering a brief nod of acknowledgment to the young lad.
"In the eight years I spent beyond the Wall, I heard many stories about your kind," Benjen said, addressing Jojen. "Never did I imagine I would meet the first one right here in Winterfell."
"Actually, you've met a Greenseer before, Benjen," Jojen replied with a smile. "One who still has it dormant, but only needs a little push to awaken his third eye."
At that moment, Jojen's face lit up. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Elaena Targaryen from Ancient Valyria."
Elaena and Maester Luwin (Winterfell)
"The spell we crafted last night was potent," Elaena mused as she walked, her gaze fixed on Winterfell's outer wall, its eighty-foot height looming before her. She had previously surveyed the inner wall and the wide moat that separated the two barriers.
As she continued to study the outer wall, a smile illuminated her face. "Perhaps," she thought, "perhaps a third wall made from the same material Valyria used for the Black Walls of Volantis."
Her thoughts were interrupted when she noticed Maester Luwin approaching.
"Dragons are truly Remarkable creatures, aren't they, Lady Elaena?" Maester Luwin remarked, his tone filled with awe. "The Valyrians departed Winterfell early this morning, yet they'll return by tomorrow morning. The speed at which they travel is truly astounding."
Elaena nodded thoughtfully, her expression reflecting a deep understanding of the magic behind the dragons' flight. "Dragons are not mere beasts, Maester Luwin," she replied. "They are magical beings, pure fire magic made flesh."
As they walked toward the outskirts of Winterfell in search of Benjen and Lord Eddard, Elaena's attention remained on the serene surroundings.
"Lady Elaena," Luwin began, "this morning I spoke with Lady Aelora before she departed for Valyria."
"Yes, I know," replied Elaena. "Aelora informed me."
"I would like to hear your opinion, my lady," Luwin pressed on.
"I concur with Lady Aelora, Maester Luwin," Elaena asserted, her voice steeped in authority. "Commencing tomorrow, upon the return of my daughter Alyssane, Aegon, and Rhaenys from Valyria, you shall be granted my authority to be their mentor here in Westeros. Lady Aelora mentioned to me that when she conversed with you before departing for Valyria this morning, she also bestowed upon you the role of tutor and mentor to her niece, Vaella, upon her return from Valyria tomorrow."
"What about Lady Daenerys?" inquired the maester, his expression attentive.
Elaena sighed, fully aware of why Danny had decided not to return to Valyria this morning and instead chose to stay in Winterfell.
"Alyssane and Rhaenys can bring my things," Elaena recalled Danny's words.
"Her lessons begin today, dear Maester," Elaena replied, her tone unwavering.
"How strict do you want me to be with them, my Lady Elaena?" asked Maester Luwin, his brow furrowing slightly.
"Very," responded Elaena firmly, her eyes reflecting determination. "They still believe that because they have knowledge of advanced magic from Valyria and can ride dragons, they are immortal. I want them to have humility and their feet firmly on the ground."
Just at that moment, she noticed that very close to where she and the other Valyrians had performed the spell the night before, her husband Benjen, Lord Eddard, and Bran were present, accompanied by two youngsters, a girl and a boy. As they approached the gathering, Elaena's attention was immediately drawn to the young lad. His eyes seemed to possess a wisdom far beyond his years, a glint of something ancient and profound.
"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Elaena Targaryen from Ancient Valyria," the boy said, catching Elaena's attention.
Elaena glanced at him, intrigued. "Who is he?" she wondered silently. "The magic he possesses is very similar to that of the Children of the Forest."
Lord Commander Jeor Mormont, Maester Aemon (Winterfell)
"Maester Aemon, earlier this morning, I gave the order to send the ravens with the instructions," Mormont explained.
Maester Aemon nodded solemnly, his aged eyes reflecting deep concern. "I fear there will be friction among some officers due to these orders. Some of them hold extreme positions regarding Mance Rayder and the wildlings in general," he responded.
Mormont sighed heavily, his gaze drifting to the flickering torches lining the walls of Winterfell's chamber. "Indeed, the risks are manifold, Maester Aemon. Not only do we face the ire of some of our own brothers, but the potential outcomes of any parley with Mance Rayder are fraught with uncertainty."
"These are risks we must consider," replied Aemon, his expression thoughtful. "However," he continued, "the danger of absolutely all beings beyond the wall becoming wights under the control of the White Walkers is something we cannot ignore. And I don't just mean the Free Folk, but also the Giants. And Gods forbid, any other beings that inhabit that wild land."
"Do you truly believe in the existence of Giants?" asked Jeor, astonished. "A man of science like yourself, dear Maester."
"I believe we must keep an open mind," Aemon replied. "After all, until a few months ago, both you and I would have thought it madness to believe in the existence of the Children of the Forest."
"Have you considered which officers will accompany you on this mission to speak with Craster, and how many Rangers you will take?" inquired Aemon.
"Yes," responded the Lord Commander, his expression of astonishment now replaced by a serious demeanor. "Qhorin Halfhand will accompany me as the First Ranger, and Ser Jarman Buckwell will serve as second in command. We plan to take around fifty Rangers for this initial expedition, which will be limited to parleying with Craster."
"Let's hope for the best that these negotiations reach a favorable conclusion," said Aemon. "Mance has been a painful thorn in the side of the Night's Watch for some years, but I would rather discuss with him, even heatedly, our differences than face him as a turned wight," reflected Aemon, observing the pensive Lord Commander. "With the living, one can negotiate and reach agreements, but with the mindless undead, there is no room for that," he concluded.
Jon, Rob, Torrhen, Theon and Samwell (Winterfell)
"So, does the beautiful rose of Highgarden have thorns in bed, or is she just an innocent maiden?" Theon Greyjoy asked with a big smirk on his face, observing Robb with amusement, while Torrhen widened his eyes, Jon Targaryen rolled his eyes, and Samwell Tarly blushed.
"A gentleman doesn't discuss such things," Robb replied, smiling. "And you're talking about my wife, Lady Margaery Stark."
"Let's get back to sword practice," Torrhen intervened. "Ser Rodrik will be back soon, and I don't want to earn a scolding from him for slacking off."
"You ruin all the fun," Theon retorted with a smirk, but he couldn't hide the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "I am really happy for you, Robb," he added, addressing Robb.
Thirty minutes later, during a break in the training session, Robb sighed. "I can't believe we have to say goodbye again so soon, dear brother," he said, looking sadly at Jon. "It seems like just yesterday when you announced you were going to Castle Black to join the Night's Watch."
"I know," Jon replied with a hint of melancholy as he reflected on the past year. "What does the future hold for me?" he wondered at that moment.
"Lady Daenerys Targaryen is approaching," Theon announced at that moment, winking at Jon, who blushed.
Before he could say anything, Jon noticed the swift change in expressions on Theon and Robb's faces, transitioning from amusement to astonishment. His gaze then fell upon Torrhen and Samwell, who were wide-eyed, clearly taken aback. Turning his gaze, he realized Daenerys wasn't alone. Three small dragons accompanied her, one perched on her shoulder and two cradled in her arms. Beside her walked Arya, engaged in animated conversation with Daenerys.
DORNE 298 AC
In the tranquil surroundings of the Water Gardens, a day after Jon Connington's departure for Valyria, Oberyn Martell found himself pacing anxiously in Doran's chambers. His impulsive nature couldn't contain the urgency burning within him, fueled by the revelation of Aegon and Rhaenys's survival.
"Brother," Oberyn began, his voice edged with urgency, "we cannot sit idly by while the rightful heirs to the Iron Throne remain hidden. We must make their existence known, rally support for Aegon's claim!"
Doran, ever the cautious strategist, met Oberyn's fervor with a measured gaze. "Oberyn, we tread on treacherous ground. The death of King Robert and the arrest of Jon Arryn have thrown the Seven Kingdoms into uncertainty. We must proceed with caution, lest we invite the ire of those who would see us as opportunists."
"Opportunists, you say," Oberyn replied with a hint of fury. "Aegon is the rightful king."
"Calm yourself, brother, we must have patience," Doran responded.
"But Doran," Oberyn pressed, frustration seeping into his tone, "how long will we wait? Aegon deserves to be acknowledged as the true king!"
Doran sighed, understanding his brother's impatience but steadfast in his resolve. "I do not deny Aegon's right to the throne, Oberyn, but we must consider the consequences of our actions. We cannot risk Dorne's stability or the safety of our people."
Oberyn's jaw clenched, his frustration boiling beneath the surface. "And what of justice for Elia? Are we to let her murderers go unpunished?"
Doran's expression softened, his own pain evident in his eyes. "Justice will come, Oberyn, but we must bide our time and choose our battles wisely. Our vengeance will be swift, but it must be calculated."
Reluctantly, Oberyn nodded, the fire in his eyes tempered by his brother's wisdom. Though his heart yearned for action, he knew he must heed Doran's counsel, for the sake of Dorne and the legacy of House Martell.