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"Speech"
'Thoughts'
Writing/Singing
"Foreign Language/Flashback"
-Scene Shift-
Chapter 13: The Bonds we Share
The day was peaceful, the cold breeze was steady and the skies were clear with the sun shining from above. This was something which made the Westerosi king very happy about.
After traveling for eight dreary days since departing Winterfell, this was something Robert Baratheon wanted to see in the North.
In the middle of the day when everyone took a break from their travels through the Barrowlands, Robert had his old friend seat with him at a secluded area away from the rest of the traveling party.
Robert relaxed a little as he pissed against a wayward tree. His eyes caught the glimpse of Baratheon guards standing vigilant at the top of the nearby hill and the plains below if any raiders and thieves -or gods forbid Heartless- happen to possibly come on by.
Once emptying his bladder, the king walked back to the table where Ned currently sat.
"Gods, this is country!" Robert exclaimed with a cheerful smile before nudging his head towards the guards. "I have half a mind to leave them all behind and keep going."
Finishing his piece of bread, the Warden and new Hand of the King spoke back. "I have half a mind to go with you."
Robert chuckled, taking a sip of wine from his mug. "What do you say? Just you and me on the kingsroad, swords at our sides, a couple of tavern wenches to warm our beds at night."
"You should have asked me twenty years ago."
Robert popped a few berries into his mouth, hoping the juices could sweeten the bitter mood which surfaced. Unfortunately it didn't.
"There were wars to fight and women to marry. I never had the chance to be young."
"I recall a few chances."
The two old friends laughed.
"Th-There was that one… ah~ what was her name? That common girl of yours. Becca? With the great big tits you could bury your face in."
"Bessie." Ned corrected. "She was one of yours."
"Bessie! Thank the gods for Bessie and her tits."
Ned shook his head, eating some grapes.
"I remember there were a good number of women who vied for Ventus." Robert noted. "Gods I didn't know if I wanted to be jealous of him with how long the list went."
"He had a natural, innocent charm."
"No shit he did. Ven never had to put any effort in wooing them. Not to mention he never bedded any of them."
Ned hid his smirk with his mug.
When thinking back on the women their young friend unknowingly charmed, Ned's mind drifted back to one who was truly memorable to him. A woman who's alluring amethyst eyes sought him out from his quiet little corner. Whose melodic voice made him wonder if he was actually listening to soothing music or not as they danced the nights away. And her fragrant smell was enhanced by their time traversing through the Godswood.
"Now what was yours again." Robert began, bringing Ned out of his thoughts. "Alena? No. You told me once. Meryl? Your bastard's mother."
"Wylla." Quickly responded the Warden, him becoming uncomfortable on the subject.
"That's it. Must have been a rare wench to make Lord Eddard Stark forget his honor. You never told me what she looked like."
"Nor will I."
Robert saw the guarded emotions surfacing in his old friend's eyes. Sadness and agony were prominent in them.
The king figured the bastard's mother had died upon giving birth.
"We were at war. None of us knew if we were gonna go back home again." Robert sympathised. "You're too hard on yourself. You always have been."
"No doubt if Ven were here with us, he would try and fail in cheering me up. Though I'd appreciate his gesture."
Robert shook his head in amusement. "I swear if I weren't your king, you would have hit me already."
"Worst thing about your coronation, I'll never get to hit you again." Ned lightly jested.
"True. Then again, Ven was the last one to do so… before leaving." Robert said, now downtrodden.
Ned remembered it well, something that made him sick to his stomach when thinking back at that particular moment.
After the death of King Aerys and confronting Jamie in the throne room, Robert was presented with the bodies of Princess Elia Martell and her two children. They were wrapped tight in Lannister cloaks in order to help hide the bloodied mess Ser Gregor "The Mountain" Clegane had done to them. Bashing baby Aegon's head, slaughtered little Rhaenys all before raping and cleaving their mother in half.
Ned and Ventus were mortified when seeing their corpses with the latter appeared utterly devastated.
The Stark knew how much he loved and cared for Elia and her daughter, given how well their friendship developed and blossomed during Harrenhal's Tourney. After all, despite assisting the Rebellion against the Targaryens, Ven wanted to fight in order to save Elia and her children.
Ned and Ventus wanted justice for what happened to them, only for Robert to laugh.
The Baratheon was so transfixed in his goal in wiping out the Targaryens, he didn't even care if Rhaenys and baby Aegon were slaughtered at all. To him, they were "dragonspawn", Prince Rhaegar's heirs and nothing more.
The friendship with Robert became utterly soured with Ned and Ventus. And the first sign of this was with the Keybearer walking up to the Baratheon and punching him across the jaw for all to see. The blow caused the Usurper to fall onto the ground as he spat out a bloodied tooth. All present gaped in absolute stunned silence.
Seeing his friend leave the throne room, Ned went after Ventus. A heated discussion went on before the Keybearer said he just needed to leave and have time to cool off.
That was the last time he ever heard or saw of his young friend ever again. The thought alone pained him to no end. They left on such… bitter and saddening terms.
If he were to stay around longer, Ventus could've helped speed up the siege of Storm's End before being told of the whereabouts of Lyanna. Then the captured She-wolf would've survived her ordeal at the Tower of Joy in Dorne. And maybe then, things might've become different today.
Robert himself shows how much he misses Ventus and it was easy for Ned to see how much he regrets having their last interaction being so violent.
If only…
Ned was brought out of his thoughts once more when he was presented with a rolled up piece of parchment. "What's this?"
"There was a rider in the night."
Taking the parchment, the Stark read through its contents. "Daenerys Targaryen has wed some Dothraki horse lord, what of it?" He then tossed the rolled letter onto the table. "Should we send her a wedding gift?"
"A knife, perhaps. A good sharp one and a bold man to wield it." Responded the king, taking a sip of his ale.
"She's just an innocent, young girl, Robert."
"And how long will she remain innocent?" Robert's mouth grew hard. "Soon that young girl will spread her legs and start breeding dragonspawn."
"Tell me we're not speaking of this?"
Slamming his mug onto the table, Robert glared at his old friend. "Oh? It's unspeakable to you?! What her father did to your family, that was unspeakable. What Rhaegar Targaryen did to your sister, the woman I loved; that was unspeakable. I'll kill every Targaryen I get my hands on."
It was said by many that the Targaryen prince had raped Lyanna countless times after the kidnapping. Loyalists denied such claims, with most who had known the Last Dragon personally stating this. Some used it as a smear against his character to bolster the Rebellion's moral.
Whether this was the truth or not, Robert ate it all up as a drive to get his betrothed back and further fueled his hate for the Valyrian family.
Ned knew better than to defy him when the fires of wrath were lit within his friend. If the years had not quenched Robert's thirst for revenge, no words of his would help.
But it didn't hurt but try, especially with Ned's newly given position.
"You can't get your hands on this one, can you?"
The king's anger became a bit sharper now. "This Khal Drogo, it's said that he has 100,000 men in his horde.
"Even a million Dothraki are no threat to the realm, as long as they remain on the other side of the Narrow Sea. They have no ships, Robert." Ned argued.
"There are still those in the Seven Kingdoms who call me Usurper. The Targaryen boy crosses the sea with a Dothraki army at his back, the scum will join him."
"He will not cross. And if by chance he does, we'll throw him back into the sea."
Robert was still angry, but it wouldn't settle down despite Ned's counter argument.
"There's a war coming, Ned. I don't know when or who will be fighting, but it's coming."
-The Dothraki Sea-
A long train of horses traveled through a sea of grass as far as the eye can see and beyond the given horizon. The great plains were immense, dense and empty with no hints of hills or any other form of nature at all.
It was said that at a certain time of the year, the green shifted colors to a deep red due to the flowers planted in the land. Where a sea of vermillion green becomes a sea of reddened blood. And come the dry season, the land is dyed into a dull bronze.
Being beside her friend, Xion did her best to comfort her.
"You need to drink, child," Jorah stated before handing the Targaryen a waterskin and what appeared to be jerky of some meat, "and eat."
Dany reluctantly took the offered items as she blankly stared at them with tired eyes. She had been eating the jerky for quite some time now and what was once a decent treat had become dull on her pallet.
"Is there anything else?"
Jorah controlled the reigns on his horse, giving his answer. "The Dothraki have two things in abundance: grass and horses. And people can't live on grass."
Xion wasn't pleased with this. "One would have to be desperate to eat just grass."
"There have been men who tried." Jorah responded back. "Can't say their bowels agreed with them partaking it after many days."
Dany used her teeth to rip off a piece of jerky and started chewing, took a sip of water and gave back the waterskin to Ser Jorah.
Once back on his person, Jorah looked towards the land surrounding the Khalassar. "In the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai, they say there are fields of ghost grass with stalks taller than a man on horseback and as pale as milk that glow in the night. It murders all other grass and everything else with it."
"Is there a point to this?" Xion asked as the three traveled along the Dothraki train.
The grizzled knight gave his answer. "The Dothraki believe that one day it will cover everything… and that's how the world will end one day."
"A death to everything, then." Muttered the black coated girl. "Sounds pleasantly simple, yet oddly poetic."
Dany didn't respond at all, merely looking on before her eyes locked onto her husband's form. The horse lord rode his warhorse along the train in silence, focusing on his surroundings and blocking anything else out.
Xion and Jorah saw her line of sight before giving the Targaryen a sympathetic look. And Xion gave her friend a gentle squeeze on the closest hand she could touch. The exiled princess didn't say anything in response to the kind gesture.
"It'll get easier." Said the Mormont.
"And how long will that take?" Inquired the Nobody.
Jorah didn't have an answer to this as they kept on riding.
The first days into the marriage had been hard for Dany. Saddle sores and chafed thighs. Her hands blistered from the reins, the muscles on her back were so wracked she could scarcely sit. That was the least of her problems as every night, Drogo would come to their shared tent and take her from behind, riding her as relentlessly as he rode his warhorse.
If it weren't for Xion being there for her, Dany wouldn't know how much longer she would endure it before wanting to kill herself.
As much as Xion wanted to give Drogo a piece of her mind, Dany told her not to. It surprised the Nobody on the request and wanted to know why. Dany said to her that despite the 'rough riding' she endured daily, Drogo never once hurt her. Xion can't just attack the horse lord because of this, she needed an actual excuse.
Because of this, she stayed her hand, but this didn't stop Xion from hovering near her side as surely and often; much like Jorah is doing now however. Besides, Dany was made of stronger stuff. She would know from what training the Targaryen girl had under her.
Looking over to the Mormont, they shared a brief bit of eye contact before looking back at Dany; who did her best to sit up straighter than ever before.
There was a silent agreement which sprung up between Xion and Jorah with their shared goal in keeping Dany alive. And while Xion had known her longer and her belligerent brother, the illusionary number couldn't help but respect the Westerosi knight.
The Mormont was quickly becoming a wise advisor while carrying himself with the utmost respect around the Targaryen siblings and the Dothraki. Even the slaves the horse lords used in their day to day were given a modicum of respect by the man, which only made Xion like him more.
"I've been meaning to ask this, but how long have you been in their service?" Jorah asked once some distance had been put between them and Dany's silver mare.
"Roughly two months. Often feels like it's been longer." Xion replied before letting her gaze fall on Jorah fully. "It seems strange, seeing a Westerosi knight out this way."
Jorah chuckled wryly but nodded. "I imagine it is. Lord Eddard Stark -the Warden of the North- and I had a difference of opinion. I caught some poachers on my land and when he heard I had sold the men to some slavers, he had an order sent to have me brought to Winterfell to await execution. I fled, taking only my armor and a sword and little else."
"Why?"
Jorah needed no clarification as to what he was truly asking. "Let us say people do foolish things in pursuit of love, or what I thought I had in this case."
While it wasn't the whole truth, Xion could tell it was still the truth as Jorah soon turned the conversation back to her.
"And what of you, how did you -a Keybearer- get to be in their service? And more importantly, why have you remained?"
Xion took a moment or two, gathering her thoughts before answering. "I'm not from around here, but when the Heartless popped up and started attacking, I didn't stop to ask questions; I just asked. It impressed Viserys and I've been at their side since. And as for why I stayed, I did it for her and over a short while we became good friends."
"Few men, let alone women, are so noble as you make yourself out to be." Jorah replied, his tone sincere in the respect he had for Xion's actions. "But in your case I believe the tales I have heard of your deeds, few as they are Xion. That is why I am sure we will work well together, and why I would not dare press my luck against you. It's not everyday one is capable of taking out those shadowy creatures, where a normal fighter falls prey to them easily."
"True. All normal people can do is just annoy them as they are being hit by sticks and stones, rather than swords and arrows."
Jorah nodded as they kept on riding through the Dothraki train.
It was sometime into the late afternoon when everyone stopped trekking through the sea and set up camp for the day. Many tents were set up at the site with children playing at some nearby area with a mixture of Dothraki women and slaves taking care of their tasks. Whether it was gathering water, skinning captured wildlife for dinner that night to help feed the horses. And once dawn broke in the horizon, the tents were dismantled, everything was packed back up before trekking once more.
In their normal habits, the Khalassar would wander around to some random location to suit the Khal's interest. But after the wedding, they were on their way to the Dothraki homeland of Vaes Dothrak to help commemorate Khal Drogo and Dany's union.
They had rituals for almost everything, so it made sense they had a sacred place where no weapons were to be barred for ill intent and no blood spilt upon its soil. All past grudges and slights were to be left at the door -so to speak- or else there would be dire consequences.
Stopping their horses in the middle of the camp, Xion was the first to help Dany dismount her horse. And by the time her feet touched the dirt, the Targaryen's three handmaidens came over to assist the Nobody in getting her to her tent.
In part of a wedding gift to Dany, she was given three girls to be her personal servants.
Irri and Jhiqui were half-sisters and were the closest things to noble ladies the Dothraki had, being daughters of a Khal who had been defeated by Khal Drogo in battle. Jhiqui had a darker tone of skin than Irri's lighter one with the said being the same as their hair with the only same detail they shared were their almond-shaped and colored eyes. Both were considered pretty, though Jhiqui was a bit more fuller than the slender Irri.
Doreah, the last servant, was purchased by Viserys from a pleasure house. She was pretty as well with her rich brown hair and bright brown-green eyes. She was like a balance in figure between the two half-sisters. And so far, she had been with Viserys every night to serve his own needs in order to "calm the dragon".
Asides from their purpose of being handmaidens were to help Dany and Xion learn more on how to speak Dothraki and ride horses better. Yet with Doreah, there was a bit more of her role for obvious reasons; directed towards the Targaryen princess.
Seeing the young women head off to Dany's tent, Jorah saw Viserys approach.
"We're still not far from Pentos, your Grace." He addressed. "Magister Illyrio has extended his hospitality. You'd be more comfortable there."
Viserys merely huffed. "I have no interest in hospitality or comfort. I'll stay with Drogo until he fulfills his end of the bargain and I have my crown."
"As you wish, your grace."
Viserys lingered his gaze a little longer before speaking again. "Well, Mormont, as brutish as this life is, I suppose it is preferable to beheading. What did Ned Stark want you for? Buying from a slaver?"
"Selling to one," came the answer. "Some poachers I caught on my land."
The Targaryen chuckled. "Under my reign, you won't be punished for such nonsense. You can rest assured of that."
Inside of the tent, the handmaidens were attending to their Khaleesi while Xion stood not far away as she had lit up some of the candles.
In a normal situation, Xion would just use a Cure spell to help mend up Dany's wounds. But she had to hold up on the decision, with the majority of the Khalasaar still weary of her magical capabilities.
Even if Dany trusts her, it'll take time for the others to do so. She has to earn it instead of having it presented to her on a silver plate.
With the handmaidens applying salves onto the popped blisters and wrapping them up, Dany looked over to the small chest where her given dragon eggs were placed.
"Have you ever seen a dragon?" Asked the Targaryen.
Xion looked over, wondering why her friend asked such a thing.
"Dragon gone, Khalessi." Irri said, who was wrapping up one of the hands.
"Everywhere?" Dany inquired. "Even in the East?"
The dragons back in the West died centuries ago and she never knew if there were any still alive in the East. For all she knows, they could be hiding somewhere so no one could ever bother them.
"No dragon." Jhiqui stated as she poured some liquid into a bowl before washing Dany's feet. "Brave men kill them."
"It is known." Courosed the two half-sisters.
It was Doreah who spoke next. "A trader from Qarth told me the dragons come from the moon."
"The moon?" Xion asked. "How could they come from there?"
The imaginary Nobody knew there is life outside of this World and all sorts of things could happen to come across this place. So who knows where some beings originate before settling down elsewhere.
Dorah exchanged a look between the Keybearer and her Khaleesi as she gave her answer. "He told me there were once two moons in the sky and one of them was actually an egg. Said egg came too close to the sun and it cracked from the heat. Out of it came this mighty dragon who drank the sun's fire before claiming the World as its own. Once settled, it gave birth to thousands of its kind."
Jhiqui and Irri giggled on the nonsensical tale, but neither Dany or Xion laughed.
"Moon is no egg." Irri said. "Moon is goddess, wife of sun. It is known."
"It is known." Jhiqui said with a smile.
Dany sat there in silence for several moments before addressing the half-sisters. "Leave me with her." Irri and Jhiqui looked at each other before heading out of the tent. "You too, Xion."
Number XIV looked at her friend with a quizzical look. "You sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure. Don't worry about me. Just help with the patrols, please."
Xion reluctantly accepted the demand as she soon left the tent, leaving her friend alone with Doreah.
Once outside, she made her way towards the border.
Along the way, she was met with one of the Dothraki by the name of Rakharo.
"Sheeoon." He greeted.
Xion didn't mind him butchering her name, given the man is slowly learning how to speak the common tongue. She was patient with him and vice versa as she's the same on his native language.
"Rakharo." Said the imaginary Nobody. "You coming with me today?"
The Dothraki nodded, gripping the handle of his arakh.
"Well make sure you stay close." Xion advised. "These aren't simple creatures that you can kill with a swing of your sword… Well, not one like yours."
Shortly after traveling with the khalasaar, Heartless made their appearance and caused some problems. She understood why they kept showing up around her, given they want to get rid of the Keyblades in order to invade the World freely.
When Xion had fended the dark creatures off from attacking the khalasaar, Khal Drogo was rather impressed on her fighting prowess. Made the horse lord want to spar her even further.
But with their continuous appearances, Drogo had ordered some of his Bloodriders and other Dothraki to assist Xion in exterminating them.
She didn't mind the assistance, but it would make things difficult if some of her "companions" were to get in her way.
"I know, Sheeoon."
Shaking her head with an amused smile, the Puppet Nobody figured he'll get the hang of her name sooner or later. Practice makes perfect after all.
Taking a look at the khalasaar nearby, she still saw the weary looks they bore towards her.
"Ask me this, are you still weary of me?"
"Your skills… strange, yet powerful." Rakharo admitted. "I am, what word? Weary? Yes, weary but I trust you. My Khal trusts you, my Khaleesi trusts you, so I trust you."
XIon couldn't hide the appreciative smile that bloomed on her face, hearing one like Rakharo openly admit such a thing. "Thanks Rakharo. It's good to know that."
Rakharo smiled momentarily before his face turned grim. "But if betray them, I swear on Great Stallion I kill you."
"...Yeah~ I probably get that impression a lot."
Well, there went that fuzzy and happy feeling. These Dothraki appear to have a talent for such a thing. Build you up, make you feel real good about yourself then open palm slap you back down hard. Real talent they have for that.
Getting near the border of the camp, they were met with a few other Dothraki joining in on the patrol today. She hasn't learned all their names just yet, but she will in time.
Yet one of them was heavily scowling towards her, as if he has quite the grudge on her.
Wanting to get this over with, Xion spoke towards him. "And you are?"
The Dothrak rider thumped his chest challengingly.
"Haggo."
"Right, Haggo. Can I help you with something?"
Haggo hissed several curses in Dothraki making Xion tilt her head.
"You do know I understood none of that." Xion bluntly stated. "I'm still learning."
Rakharo was quick to translate to Xion's behalf. But before doing one in return, the Bloodrider interrupted.
"You disgrace me." Haggo said, his english clearly not up to par.
"What?"
"You make all laugh at me."
It was then that Xion began to remember just who this guy was. This was the Bloodrider that had attempted to "mount" and "ride" her back at Dany's wedding. He had a decently long ponytail back then, but now it was just short and slicked back.
"Oh, it's you." She said. "Almost didn't recognize you with the different hairstyle."
"Hair because of you." Haggo growled, wielding his blade.
"Listen, I don't want to fight." Xion stated. "We've got a patrol to go on and Heartless to deal with."
Haggo however appeared to have a very different idea. He stood his ground, letting out a series of unusual phrases that kind of sounded like a chant.
"Is… is he challenging me?" Xion inquired, looking to Rakharo who shrugged and nodded. He honestly looked bored at the concept considering he had already seen Haggo getting beaten so easily by the puppet.
Before anything else could proceed, some of the Dothraki quickly shut up and restrained themselves. Looking back, Xion saw the reason why with Khal Drogo approaching them.
"My Khal." Rakharo said with the others greeting him in their native tongue.
"Drogo." Xion said evenly.
The horse lord spoke in his native tongue before Rakharo translated to the illusionary Nobody.
"Drogo says he wishes to come with this day."
Xion rose a brow at this, but didn't object. "You're welcome to come along. No one's stopping you."
In fact no one could really stop him, even if they tried.
Drogo huffed with an amused grin on his face as he regarded Xion with a look that could only be described as genuine respect.
Pulling out his arakh, Xion saw Drogo's weapon was different from everyone elses. With the dark wavy pattern along the silver colored curved blade.
She had asked about this before out of curiosity. All Xion got in response was his arakh was a special prize he won by defeating a rival Khal in the past. And said prize was made out of Valyrian steel.
Questioning this further, Xion learned from Jorah it was a brand of steel regarded highly from a fallen territory called the Valyrian Freehold. It's steel was tougher and stronger than any other in the World. Practically imbedded with magics in order to make it so.
Yet despite owning such a prized weapon doesn't mean one can be invincible. But it could help give the Khal an edge against the Heartless.
They had rode out from the main encampment, heading far out from the momentary settlement. The thundering sounds of hooves were heard from all around the area with several Dothraki beginning to screech out in excitement at the thought of battle.
It wasn't long along the ride did plumbs of dark vapors were seen further along the impromptu trail.
Narrowing her eyes, Xion spurred her horse to move faster with her throwing her hand out and her Keyblade appearing in her grasp.
As the group drew near, large figures bursted out of the vapor clouds as they were met with a good dozen Heartless charging right at them.
She recognized a number of the summoned Heartless being Bandits and Lunar Bandits, given their attire and curved weapons. To the Dothraki, they were a challenge given they were vaguely like their own given the later bore arahks.
More so with the fact that these were riding on top of horses which surprisingly were Heartless with their red eyes and emblems seen on their rumps. And some of them apparently were pegasus, given they had either feathered or leather-like wings.
The rest of the present Heartless were centaur-like creatures with black equine lower bodies with red hooves. The upper-humanoid black bodies were quite muscular as they wore armor on some areas. Even wearing helmets with their glowing yellow eyes peeking out of them. And their weapon of choice were long bladed spears with red horse hair tassels at their base.
After facing these the first time, Xion called these particular brand of Heartless Assault Riders.
Xion was riding atop her horse while standing, carefully aiming her Keyblade at a Bandit atop of it's Heartless horse. Rearing her arm back, she flung her Keyblade at full force with it spinning rapidly with a glow surrounding the weapon.
The Keyblade sliced right through the pureblooded Pegasus and Bandit before vanishing in the air and reappearing back into Xion's hand. Just in time to as Bandit had tried getting the jump on her with a spinning sword strike. Quickly parrying it, the force of her blocking the twirling attack stunned the Heartless in midair giving Xion the chance to slash right through it. A glowing Heart soaring up and disappearing into thin air as a result.
Xion patted her horse to make sure it remained calm while galloping forward to her next target.
Drogo was currently attempting to engage an Assault Rider but it was proving to be difficult. It was fairly large with clear size and strength on its side as well as a surprising amount of dexterity and handiwork. The way it spun its spear around was certainly devastating having actually killed two of his bloodriders with relative ease.
So he had to get creative.
From the side of his peripheral view, he had noticed Xion had jumped from her horse and engaged an Assault Rider. She had swung her strange key-shaped sword in a diagonal fashion, catching the Heartless' spear, stunning the Heartless back. It stumbled before slumping down to the ground, giving Xion the chance in finishing the Assault Rider off.
With a grin on his face, Drogo faced his own Assault Rider and charged forward. The Heartless clutched its spear, going up on its hindlegs and went for a horizontal swing.
Thankfully his horse had its head lowered as it was charging straight at the Heartless, leaving only Drogo to duck. The arch of the swing was wide leaving the Heartless wide open.
Getting right into its personal space, Drogo nudged his warhorse to raise itself up high on its hindlegs. His stallion bucked its head against the arm of the Assault Rider, with the force making it stumble. Drogo yipped, making his horse launch him forward and pierced the Heartless right through its head.
While one would expect a torrent of blood spewing out from such an injury, all he got was wisps of darkness that burst all around him.
Granted, Drogo was used to bloodshed and violence yet he felt both slight disappointment and a great thrill as well.
He wanted to feel the blood of his enemies upon him, signifying his betterment over them however having the capacity to utterly destroy and erase the existence of an enemy was pretty damn satisfying.
Drogo whistled, his warhorse running past him with the Khal gracefully jumping back on with ease.
All around them, the other Dothraki were fending off their respective opponents by merely holding them back. Despite their skills, their weapons hardly made any damage at all. Only Xion and their Khal were making any headway in thinning their numbers.
After taking care of their respective opponents, Xion and Drogo assisted the others in their engagements. Whether it back on horseback or on foot.
Drogo quickly rode up and used his Valyrian steel arakh to cleave through the necks of the Pegasus Heartless before attacking their riders. Xion merely ran and casted a Blizzaga spell to hold a few of the larger Heartless in place before putting much strength to cut through them.
The Nobody Keybearer even had to push herself hard to save some of the Dothraki from being taken by the Heartless. One of them so happened to be Haggo.
The disgraced Bloodrider didn't even say "thank you" on saving his life, merely glaring at her.
Xion rolled her eyes before rushing towards some of the last ones present.
It didn't take long for her to make quick work of the remaining Heartless, having to jump high into the air several times to take out the remaining flying pureblooded Pegasus's.
With everything taken care of, the surrounding sea of grass was barren of any other foe.
The group were letting out cries of victory, horses roaming about to shake off the energy.
Drogo soon spoke, causing Rakharo to translate to the Number XIV.
"Khal Drogo says he enjoyed this challenge and wants more."
Xion merely rolled her eyes as she started collecting the dropped spoils the Heartless left behind. "Of course he would." She muttered. "Well there's no doubt more than this one skirmish they'll show up today with the amount we just faced. Might as well continue a little longer before calling it a day."
Rakharo nodded before informing his Khal on this bit of information.
It didn't take long for Drogo to release a small, deep chuckle as he no doubt wants to continue this amount of fighting for today.
Once the group collected the dropped goods, the assembled party moved onwards through the Dothraki Sea.
Several of the Dothraki still regarded the loot from the Heartless with awe, wonder and slight fear. Among them was Rakharo who couldn't help but ask just how is it that the Heartless dropped such strange and unusual valuables.
Xion merely shrugged, stating that this was so common to her that even she didn't have an answer to it. It's just how things were for them and quite frankly none really complained after hearing her explanation. Just something they no doubt enjoyed given their heritage and practices.
This will probably be the common trend Xion will live through for the rest of her time with the Khalasaar now. She was used to hunting the Heartless and investigating their locations back in the Organization; might as well adjust to this as well.
-Sunspear, Dorne-
The sun was setting in the horizon, giving the home of the Martells a beautiful glow as it has for so many centuries now.
The Martells have held Dorne for generations, even before their Rhoynish ancestor, Princess Nymeria, first came to the shores of Westeros. She merely heightened their seat of power and changed the Dornish customs and practices from then on.
Staring at a portrait of his late niece and her children, a grizzled salty Dornishman released a tired sigh.
Lewyn Martell held the visage of a man who had seen and done enough for several lifetimes. He had served as a member of the Kingsguard for one Mad King and he had refused to serve a fat whoremonger King that laughed in glee at the sight of his dead kin.
He only took on the position of the esteemed brotherhood in order to protect his cherished and beloved niece, Elia, while she was married to Rhaegar Martell. And despite everything he'd done to protect her and her children, he failed in saving them.
Sometimes he wondered if he should've died back in the Battle of the Trident or not. Saving him from his personal disgrace of not making this happen or wanting to see them again in the afterlife.
That all changed when Ventus, the boy who had won favor and friendship with his house prevented him from doing so several times over. The last was rather an impassioned speech and plea, telling him that though his duties to the Kingsguard would end his responsibilities for his family would only just start. After seeing the horrendous actions of the Mad King's burning and murder of Brandon and Rickard Stark, Lewyn knew Ven's words held true. He needed to remain alive. For his niece Elia, for his nephews Oberyn and Doran, and for his family above all else.
So with a gracious farewell with Barristan, Lewyn returned home where he was welcomed with open arms. Even more so with the tragedy of Elia and her children.
Despite him no longer carrying any title or lands, due to his former oath to the Kingsguard and becoming an Oathbreaker, everyone still referred to him as Prince Lewyn.
"Father!"
"Gruncle Lewyn."
The old prince looked over to the two who called for him, a loving smile appearing on his face.
"Nymor my boy, Arianne, what are you two doing here?" Lewyn asked with a soft chuckle. "Staying out of trouble from Doran, yes? Is Oberyn helping?"
"No, just running from studies and all." Nymor admitted without a care in the world making his father laugh aloud. He ruffled his sons black hair making him grin in turn.
Being with his son had always alleviated a great deal of the burden of guilt and shame he carried since leaving his post as Kingsguard and failing Elia. Nymor meant everything to him and he promised himself that he'd give his son the best life that he can.
He was proud to say that was growing to be a splendid swordsman, taking after him with great gusto and at times practicing like a man possessed to one day match the legendary prowess of Aerys' fabled Kingsguard.
Sand he may be, Nymor was no less loved than any of Oberyn's eight daughters constantly getting into mischief with all his cousins. Nymor took after both his father and cousin/uncle Oberyn. He shared his eyes, nose and chin whilst his posture and body build was more akin to Oberyn. A more bulkier Oberyn, but like his wild cousin/uncle all the same.
Nymor and the rest of the family knew that he was technically cousins with Oberyn and Doran but in all honesty referred to them both as Uncles.
Arianne was a woman grown and as beautiful and vivacious as they come. With her slightly dark olive skin, large dark eyes and long, thick ravenette hair which reached her upper back. And while she was Doran's daughter, it was not hard guess in seeing how much of Oberyn she had inherited.
"So what is it that you wanted to speak to me about?"
"A letter had come for you." Nymor said, handing his father the rolled up parchment. "From Ser Barristan."
Lewyn took the sealed scroll from his bastard son and saw the wax seal was not broken.
How anyone would know it came from the Commander of the Kingsguard in the first place was rather simple… no one else from the esteemed and honored brotherhood would ever write to the Dornishman.
Things were rather simple between the two old friends whenever writing to each other. Mostly to keep in touch with each other on affairs on their respective ends.
'Wonder what he says this time.' Lewyn thought, breaking the wax seal and unfurling the letter.
As he read through its contents, a semi-pleasant look was slowly morphing into one of utter confusion and disbelief. The old Dornish prince had to reread it several times over as his hands seemed to shake a little.
Both his son and his grand-niece took notice.
"Is there something wrong, gruncle?" Arianne asked out of worry. "It's as if something terrible has happened."
Lewyn couldn't believe it but knowing Barristan as well as he did, this was no jest in the slightest.
"Father?" Nymor's voice broke through his thought process this time.
Gaining his wits about him, he looked at them both with a glint in his eyes.
"Where is your father, Arianne?" Lewyn inquired. "Is he with Oberyn by any chance?"
Both looked to one another with Arianne shrugging.
"I last saw Uncle Oberyn going towards father's study." Arianne answered.
"Why? Is something the matter?" Nymor asked.
"I need to speak to them at once."
After getting the location of his two nephews, Lewyn walked in a hurried pace, almost running. Curious as to what's happening, Nymor and Arianne shared a look before going after the elder Martell.
Along the way, Lewyn ended up catching the attention of some of his younger family members who soon followed after.
Not knowing of the amount of people following after him, the elder Martell eventually came into Doran's solar, who was currently discussing matters with Oberyn with Ellaria sitting beside him.
"Oberyn, for Gods' sake, have some patience."
"I have been patient brother." Oberyn said frustratedly. "Patient for nearly two decades and still-"
"Oberyn." Lewyn burst through the door making the three adults jolt at his sudden arrival. "Doran, I need to speak with you both immediately."
"Seven hells, Lewyn." Doran patted his chest to calm his beating heart. "At least have the decency of knocking."
"It nearly knocked the gout right out from my poor brother." Oberyn quipped, earning a withering stare from Doran.
Ellaria merely chuckled on the little jest.
Lewyn nodded in greeting at Elliara who only faintly nodded back with a kind smile.
"I have important news." Lewyn stated with a no-nonsense matter.
"And what is this news you speak of, uncle?"
"I received word from Barristan about something our family should probably know."
The two brothers shared a look, knowing Lewyn's friendship with his former brother in arms was quite strong. The current Commander of the Kingsguard never once lied to their uncle. So whatever he has to say was above all truthful.
Handing the leader of Dorne the letter, Lewyn soon stepped back as he, his youngest nephew and his paramore looked on to see Doran read it's contents. And with the solar door opened, the other members of their family saw what was happening as well.
It wasn't long before Doran's eyes widened as he read the letter, slumping back in his seat before holding it up for Oberyn to take. Bewildered by his brother's uncharacteristic response, Oberyn took the letter out from Doran's hand and quickly read through the letter. And Ellaria scooched over and read it as well.
"The son of Ventus is here in Westeros?! And he's on his way to King's Landing!" Oberyn exclaimed aloud, making many in the room and at the doorway gasp.
"Is this true?!" Arianne went over to her uncle, peering over his shoulder to read the contents of the letter. Though she was young, Arianne vaguely remembered a distinct set of wild and spiky sandy blond hair with crystal blue eyes and endearing kind smile.
Brief as his time may have been, like the Northerners of Westeros, the Martells of Dorne remember very well the actions that have been done in the past; both good and bad.
And Ventus was regarded in an extremely positive manner for this family, almost as well as the Starks of Winterfell.
He had saved Elia at Harrenhal, displayed noble actions during the tourney hosted there, was responsible for having Lewyn return to Dorne alive and well… to cap it off had struck a vicious blow to Robert Baratheon after the new King was shown the dead children of their princess. This was a case where there were no rumors, just facts that so many had bore witness to such a bombastic fallout with Ventus never being heard from or seen again.
Now, for his son to make an appearance as sudden as the one that his father had made those eighteen years ago? This was a sign. A sign for the Martells to take action here and now.
"What should we do?" Nymor asked, voicing the thoughts of many of those present.
"Isn't it obvious?" Oberyn responded towards his cousin/nephew. "We must see him."
Doran then spoke. "And as much as I'd like to see him, I cannot go."
It didn't take much for the others to know the Dornish leader's reason. His gout has been progressing further and doing any form of travel would no doubt make it worse.
"And did you read the part of what this boy wields?" Lewyn asked. "Keyblades. Not one, but two." This furthered some interest with some of those who haven't read the letter at all. "If this Roxas boy is indeed the son of Ventus and holds two of those mystical weapons, then mayhaps he is even stronger then his father before him."
Oberyn merely chuckled, already wanting to see how well the boy fought and possibly fight him. And much like their father, the three of the Sand Snakes of Obara, Nymeria and Tyene wanted to do the same.
Oberyn looked over to one daughter in particular, being Tyene's younger sister. Venya was a sweet girl of ten summers who was generally kind, had a love for life and polite yet beneath her eyes was a fiery blaze akin to her father when provoked or challenged. In a way, it was similar to her namesake as Ventus had displayed similar traits though not to a lustful degree as the Dornish.
The boy was still a maiden when they had met him. Yet clearly, a maiden no more if this Roxas boy was claimed to be his son.
Lewyn looked at most of his family members and already can tell the majority of them wanted to head off to King's Landing.
It has been nearly two decades since a Martell has stepped foot inside the capital of Westeros. No one had ever bothered since the Sacking of King's Landing for obvious reasons. But now they have the incentive in possibly doing so.
There were many strange and ghastly rumors that had come out from the sacking of King's Landing that never had any confirmations or truths. Just mere speculations.
Now, there were several individuals waiting in King's Landing that the Martells are dying to speak to.
Roxas being an obvious one.
The other was Eddard Stark as he held a strange sort of connection with the Martells. The strange way being that of his relationship with one deceased Ashara of House Dayne. The same House that actually named one of its sons in honor of Eddard. Little Edric "Ned" Dayne.
They had heard of how he had a fallout of his own in regards to Robert's reaction to Elia's children from the late Hand of the King, Jon Arryn. So much to do.
To think, the Stark would have possibly been married to Elia's best friend if Lyanna's kidnapping never happened; given what the late princess revealed to her family.
"What of these strange creatures Ser Barristan spoke of?" Elliara brought up. "These Heartless."
Lewyn hummed to himself, recalling the creatures he once faced with his old brothers back at Harrenhal.
"If they are anything like those Unversed beasts then they are not to be taken lightly." Lewyn stated firmly.
"Then who will be going?" Arianne inquired, asking the question on everyone's mind.
It wasn't long before Doran's solar was filled with debates and arguments on which specific family members will go to the Westerosi capital.
King's Landing was a viper pit- no, a lion's den given recent years. It was more Lannister territory now given what they know how much debt is owed to Tywin and the guessed amount of forces lying behind it's walls.
The Martells suffered much because of that family. They did not want to lose any more. So they would need to exercise caution if they were to go to King's Landing, especially now of all times.
Find allies, learn of this new figure and see whether or not now would be the time to finally have their long awaited justice against those who have wronged them.
"We cannot act callously." Doran stated. "Any reckless actions or moves would draw unwanted attention on us. More especially after going to King's Landing."
Doran made it an obvious display with the pointed look at his younger brother as to whom he was directing the 'reckless' action to. Oberyn merely grinned, knowing that his brother had chosen him to go.
"I shall do my hardest and noblest responsibility in keeping my daughters on a tight leash." Oberyn said in an extravagant bow.
"I wasn't just talking about them." Pointed out the Dornish leader.
It will be quite the short leash to reign in the Red Viper. Out of the entire household, Oberyn is more prone to lash out his anger if he can't control himself.
"So keep Oberyn from doing anything crazy, Uncle." Doran said with a pleading look with Lewyn chortling.
"Naturally, Doran, but no promises."
-End Chapter-
AN:
Chapter could've come out sooner if it wasn't for work. Enough said as always from both free man writer and I.
With the recent Coronavirus going on as of late, things are getting crazy. Sport leagues across the country have been put on hiatus until further notice, schools are shut down for 2 weeks, international flights are being blocked until further notice, many events are postponed or canceled such as E3 to even Celine Dion concerts… the last one is something my younger sister is really pissed off about given this is supposed to be her last concert tour before retiring and she has tickets to her one concert in a few weeks. Hell, a lot of movies are postponed and delayed by some number of months and it's understandable.
FreeManWriter: Oh yeah, the level of panic is astounding. Sure am glad that toilet paper has such a natural immunity to the virus. Thank God for disposable tissues.
Jeb: So remember people, wash your hands constantly, cough and sneeze away from others and rest well. We must all do our part in not preventing this problem even further.
FMW: Yeah, you know, washing hands. The one thing that one should constantly do and should have done well before this virus just up and fucked everything up for the foreseeable future. But yeah, like J said gotta do our part and all. Last thing we need to do is panic. This is one of those instances where we gotta batten down the hatches and endure cause sometimes that's all some can do.
Anyways, be sure to review this story guys! Would like the criticisms. Please and thank you!
R&R