Pentos: 284 AC: 1 Moon Later:
Rhaella sat in the dimly lit room that housed Aemon, gently stroking his growing black hair. Beside him, slept Daenerys, whose violet eyes took some time to shut compared to Aemon She watched on as they both slept soundly in the soft cloth bedding. Aemon held the black dragon egg close in his little arms as if his life depended on it, as Rhaella looked on. She had often wondered if it were even possible to hatch dragon eggs anymore, but Rhaegar seemed so determined when he showed the egg to her, that this was the one that would hatch if given to his son.
She longed for him to be here now, to share this moment and see their son and her daughter grow as dragons together. Her disdain for the man seated in King's Landing was profound, for he had robbed her and Aemon of his presence. Naturally, she understood that Aerys's deposition was inevitable, and she had discussed the matter extensively with Rhaegar. They believed that Rhaegar's ascension to the throne would usher in an era of unmatched stability and prosperity for the Realm. Yet, that dream was shattered by Robert's warhammer.
A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. She instructed Barristan, who was on guard outside, to allow the visitor in. Barristan opened the door, admitting Illyrio and a servant man who was carrying a large chest. Behind them, the pale moonlight shone through the door and onto Rhaella's silver loose hair. The sight of the moon revealed to Rhaella that it was beginning to get late. Illyrio smiled as he entered and offered a gentle greeting to the Queen. With the door shut behind him, Illyrio took a seat next to Rhaella, exhaling deeply, as the servant placed the chest beside his feet and quickly scurried away on Illyrio's orders.
"Queen Rhaella," Illyrio smiled.
"Magister, I had not expected to see you at this time." Rhaella softly mumbled, to not wake the sleeping children.
"I have something for you that couldn't wait." Illyrio began. "Some of my men have recently returned from Asshai. Though they have returned in body, I would not say they have returned in spirit. They have brought me back the most exquisite of gifts if you'd care to look."
Rhaella looked at the chest that was lying beside Illyrio's swollen feet. "Asshai? What could they have brought back from that place?" She pondered aloud, as she leaned down and opened the chest.
The sight made her lose her breath. Inside lay the familiar shape of three dragon eggs, their bright colors, and beauty, unlike anything she had ever seen. She picked up the one that stood out the most to her. Its bright blue and white scales were breathtaking, and they shone like polished metal in the dim candlelight of the room. Her pale hands instinctively brushed over the stone-like scales of the egg, as her violet eyes looked up at the Magister who sat gleefully beside her.
"They're unbelievable, Illyrio." She stammered, unable to truly comprehend what she now held.
"They are, Rhaella, and they are now yours." Illyrio smiled.
"How can I ever repay you?"
"It is a gift, Rhaella. Think nothing of it."
"A man such as yourself hardly gives out gifts without expecting something in return." She chuckled, raising an eyebrow at Illyrio. She knew the long game that Illyrio was playing and that everything he provided was not out of the kindness of his heart, but rather for the advancement of his station.
Illyrio shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Come now, Rhaella. We can speak about that another time. For now, enjoy my gifts."
Rhaella smiled softly at the Magister, before returning the egg to the velvet lining of the chest. "I suppose I would have to give one to Viserys and Daenerys." She decided as she looked over the eggs once more. Her thoughts suddenly turned to images of three dragons soaring through the air, as gracefully as morning swallows. She smiled at the thought, but her eyes turned to the deep red egg that sat on the right of the chest.
"Who could this be for?" She thought, as she gently picked the egg up and ran a hand over the scales. As she did so, she could feel a strange warmth emanating from the inside of the egg. Her hand suddenly recoiled from it, as her violet eyes quickly set on the fat Magister, who now looked at her with inexplicable curiosity.
"Magister, do you happen to have any books on dragonlore?" She asked, attempting to sound indifferent.
"It's funny you should ask, Rhaella. Look beneath the eggs." Illyrio smiled, as he leaned down with a heavy sigh and lifted the velvet cloth that the eggs had been resting on. Underneath the cloth, Rhaella looked to see a leather-bound book with a faded cover. Having not spoken or read Valyrian for some time, she struggled at first to make out the words that were inlaid in light gold, on the cover.
'Skoriot zaldrīzoti ilagon' (Where Dragons Lay)
Rhaella had not seen this book before, nor even heard of it. She picked it up with eager hands but was disappointed to see that many of the words on the pages had been lost to time, and only a few remained on the tattered parchment that bound the book. The few sentences she could make out spoke at length of the different dragons that existed in Valryia thousands of years ago. How a book such as this ended up at Asshai, Rhaella could not fathom.
"I will try to procure some more...modern books for you, Rhaella," Illyrio assured as he stood up. "I will leave you for now, good night." He smiled, as he walked out of the room. Barristan entered after him and stared in amazement at the sight that greeted him. He had of course seen the dragon eggs that Aerys jealously guarded in the Red Keep. However, to see them again in this setting, and three of them at that, he was astonished.
"My Queen?" Barristan stammered, as Rhaella slowly looked up from the book she was entranced with. "These eggs? Are they from Illyrio?"
"It would seem so, Ser Barristan. He said he had them brought from Asshai" She explained.
"Asshai? A journey such as that would take years to complete. It makes me wonder-"
"That he had been planning for this? Yes, it makes me wonder too." Rhaella interrupted. "I don't fully trust him, Barristan, but he has done no wrong by me or my family so far."
"I agree, but it does not harm to be wary." Barristan sighed, as he sat down beside Rhaella, and gazed wondrously at the three eggs before him in the chest. Their beauty blew him away, and he looked to his Queen, who had begun to read her book again with violet eyes that seemed to be hungry for the knowledge the pages contained.
"That book? Does it explain anything?" Barristan eventually asked, a soft smile appearing on his face as he did so.
"The words have faded and some of the pages have been torn, but the words that are here seem to go into amazing detail on dragon breeding and how the old Valyrian dragon keepers incubated their eggs," Rhaella explained, her eyes never leaving the page she was reading.
"Do you think we could bring them back?"
"I am unsure, Barristan." Rhaella sighed, as she gently closed the book and turned her longing gaze to the old knight beside her. "The magic has gone from the world, it seems. I learned that when my Grandfather burnt down Summerhall all those years ago."
"A great tragedy it was. Perhaps, Aegon made a mistake when he attempted it."
Rhaella sighed and rubbed her eyes. "Perhaps...I will need to find more texts on dragonlore it seems. Perhaps, there is a chance."
Barristan nodded at the Queen, who he noticed had begun to look tired. He bid her goodnight and left her alone in the room, promising to stand guard at her door until the dawn came. She adored the duty and care that the knights took around her and her children as if they were still royalty living in the Red Keep and not exiles in a foreign land. She understood that they do what they do from their sense of duty and honor, but one day she hoped she could reward them for all they have done up to now.
Shaking her head, Rhaella gently opened the book again to read more earnestly now that she had a moment alone. Her violet eyes scanned the pages, looking for anything that might indicate how to bring dragons back from the dead. No sentences were complete and the only words she could make out were 'bāneves' (Heat) and 'perzys' (Fire). She concluded that the eggs would need heat to hatch, but she felt that something else was missing.
Letting out a heavy sigh, she closed the book gently and placed it back within the heavy chest. She then picked up the light white and blue egg and observed it in her hands. Deciding to give it to Daenerys, she moved to where her sleeping beauty lay and placed it gently within her soft arms. Rhaella watched as Daenerys immediately held the egg close to her chest, and she smiled contently at the sight. She wondered if the cradling was the missing key to hatching eggs and that together with some form of heat or fire, it would bring about a stirring of life within the egg.
Rhaella was, however, hesitant to use fire, especially after what happened at Summerhall. She would be damned if she lost more family to the dream of the dragons returning. Though seeing the predicament her family found themselves in, she felt that having dragons back would give them all the advantage they would need to see House Targaryen return to its rightful place upon the iron throne.
Rhaella fell asleep that night in between Aemon and Daenerys, and she found her dreams frequented by visions of dragons and their riders, and she felt some form of excitement when she saw them, as if she were a child again, hearing the stories her father told her and imagining them coming to life. When she awoke, she found that she had slept late and that Daenerys and Aemon had already been taken care of by Illyrio's wet nurses and servants, their eggs having been placed neatly back in the chest.
Clambering out of bed, Rhaella washed her pale face with a nearby water basin. She then brushed her frantic, silver hair and tied it into a neat ponytail, to alleviate the heat that came from the Essosi sun throughout the day. Her eyes immediately set on the chest that still lay open near the chairs that she and Illyrio held their discussion on the night before. Before moving to the chest, she changed into some fresher clothes and decided to wear a deep red and black dress that revealed her pale shoulders at the neckline. After she changed, she made her way over to the chest.
She examined the final egg closely, which she had never scrutinized beyond its deep golden brown hue. Upon lifting the egg, she instinctively knew her next steps. She swathed the egg in a strip of white cloth taken from the bed and exited the room. Richard Lonmouth was outside, standing vigilantly on guard. Following the assassination attempts, her men had started rotating shifts to protect her and her son's chambers. Illyrio had even increased his guard tenfold, positioning archers on the rooftops to prevent their use by adversaries, as had happened before.
Richard instinctively walked at Rhaella's side, as she gave him a soft smile. "Ser Richard, where is my son?" She asked, as her hands held the dragon egg tightly to her chest.
"I believe he is sparring with Ser Arthur, my Queen." Richard guessed, as gripped the hilt of his sword firmly.
"In the gardens?"
"I would guess so. Would you like me to carry that for you, my Queen?"
Rhaella let a small smirk at the young knight's eagerness to help her. "No, Ser, it's quite alright." She smiled.
Richard nodded and carried on walking by his Queens side until they both arrived at the familiar sight of the gardens, where in the center, a shirtless, sweaty Viserys was clashing swords with the legendary Sword of the Morning. The midday sun beamed down on the both of them and Viserys silver hair seemed to vanish in the sunlight. Arthur on the other hand, looked like a knight from some mythical story. His long black hair ran down to his shoulders and his toned abdominals shone with sweat in the sunlight. His shirtless form was a pleasing sight to Rhaella, and for a brief moment, she felt like a little girl again when she first met Ser Bonfier Hasty. Her thoughts turned to her previous lover and she wondered what he was up to these days.
To the side of them sat Barristan and Jaime, who both looked to be in a deep discussion about something. Arthur stopped Viserys from sparring when he saw the Prince's mother, and he moved to where Jaime and Barristan were sitting to wipe the sweat that now beaded down him and tossed the cloth to Viserys to do the same. Rhaella approached her son and Knights and gave them all a warm smile, as Richard sat down beside his friends in arms.
"How is he coming along, Ser Arthur?" She asked as she took a seat beside Jaime, who gave her a greeting nod. Over the last moon, she had become more comfortable around the redeemed knight, especially after hearing of his heroic deeds in saving King's Landing from the madness of Aerys. He still struggled to move on his right leg ever since one of the assassins threw a dagger in it, but he was getting better every day, she noticed.
"He's getting there, my Queen." Arthur smiled, as he looked at a grinning Viserys. "I apologize for my appearance, my Queen. Had I known you were coming I would have worn something appropriate."
"Nonsense, Arthur. The day is very warm it would seem." She chuckled as she witnessed Arthur pull a white cloth shirt over his body. "I have something for you, Viserys." She smiled, as her son gave her a curious gaze.
"What is it, mother?" Viserys queried, as he continued to wipe the sweat from his body.
"This," Rhaella said as she loosened the cloth from around the deep gold egg. Viserys' eyes widened at the sight of the egg. All his life he wanted a dragon, as he spent much of his younger years dreaming of the flying beast and all the glory that surrounded them.
"F-For me?" Viserys stammered, dropping his sword to the ground which crashed against the stone beneath them.
"Of course, my son. Here." She smirked, holding the egg out to her son, who took it gently in his growing arms. His lilac eyes ran up and down the egg with wonder, as he ran his hands along the stony golden scales that were present upon the shell.
"Will it hatch?" He asked, never taking his eyes off of the egg.
"I am unsure, son. Perhaps, but...it's difficult." Rhaella sighed.
Arthur, Jaime, and Barristan watched on, each with the same smirk painted across their faces. When Jaime was first told that they had dragon eggs a few weeks prior, he could hardly believe it, until he saw his King holding one closely as he slept. For night after night, the young lion could see the egg in his dreams as well as the black dragon that he presumed would hatch from it.
"A wonderous thing, no?" Jaime complimented toward Viserys, breaking the silence that had permeated the air. Viserys could only look up and nod excitedly at the knight.
"Do you know how to hatch it?" Viserys asked, his eyes averting towards his mother who sat contently watching him.
"Like I said, Viserys, I am unsure. I have asked Illyrio to procure us more books on dragonlore but until then, we will have to see."
"I see, Mother." Viserys sighed, as he gave the egg back to his mother, his eyes showing some disappointment.
Rhaella looked at her son in confusion. "It's yours, Viserys. Keep it. Or would you like me to put it into your room?"
"Yes please, Mother. Place it on my bed, please." Viserys smiled, as he picked up his sword once more and gave a goading look to Arthur.
"Again, Viserys? I did not realize you enjoyed losing so much." Arthur chuckled, picking Dawn up again and walking with Viserys to the middle of the garden.
"I'm getting better!" Viserys blustered, as he took his place opposite Arthur.
"Yes, I suppose you are." Arthur smiled.
Rhaella watched on as her son and her knight clashed swords once more. She knew that Arthur was not using his full strength against Viserys, but knew he used just enough so that he still learned something. Watching them both, her thoughts again turned to her long-lost love of Bonifer Hasty. She recalled how he won a tourney wearing her favor and crowned her Queen of Love and Beauty at the end of it. However, her thoughts saddened her, until an idea entered her mind.
"Ser Barristan?" Rhaella asked, looking toward the old knight.
"Yes, my Queen?" Barristan questioned, turning to face her.
"I have a question. Do you remember Bonifer Hasty?"
"Why, of course, my Queen."
"What? The old tourney knight?" Jaime interrupted, who received a glare from Barristan for his interruption.
"Yes, Ser Jaime, that old tourney knight. We were in love once, as brief as it was." Rhaella explained. "My thoughts have been of him, and where he is now, and I wonder if either of you know."
"I presume he is still leading his Holy Hundred, my Queen." Barristan guessed.
"I see...I may need to send word to him."
"Whatever for, my Queen?" Jaime asked.
"Well, he has men that we could use and I wouldn't mind seeing his face again." Rhaella smiled, as she thought of his face once more.
"Perhaps a message to our friend in King's Landing would be appropriate?" Barristan suggested, raising an eyebrow.
"I will speak to the Magister." Rhaella decided, as she stood up and walked from the table, still clutching Viserys' dragon egg, as Richard stood up to follow her.
They both first went to Viserys' bedchambers and placed the egg inside upon his bed just as he requested. Then they both made their way to where Illyrio often spent his time. The balcony that he often watched her sons' sparring sessions from, is where she again found him.
"Magister Illyrio," She smiled, taking a seat beside the large man.
"Rhaella, a welcome surprise to see you here. Are you here to ask about my search for more books or was something else on your mind?" Illyrio asked, casting a curious gaze on the exiled Queen.
"There was something else. Our mutual friend in King's Landing, I need you to get a message to him."
Illyrio leaned forward with curiosity. This was the first time she had ever asked him to send a message to Varys. "What would you like it to detail?"
"There is a man I need to find. Ser Bonifer Hasty."
"Ah, the pious knight of the Holy Hundred. Yes, I can sing this song for you, Rhaella. Anything in particular you would want me to pass on?"
"Let Varys know to tell him that his Queen is calling him to return to her." Rhaella smiled.
"At once, Rhaella, it shall be done," Illyrio said, beckoning a servant beside him to do as Rhaella said.
Content with her choices, Rhaella bid Illryio goodbye and walked back through the manse to continue her day. As she walked, her thoughts were occupied by her estranged lover and his knights. She smirked at the images that she conjured in her mind, of him riding through fields with his men at his back. She thought of him cutting down their enemies and laying enemy banners low. She hoped that these thoughts would come to fruition, as the regaining of her love would harden her resolve like never before.
Dorne: 284 AC: 1 Week Later:
Jon Arryn was a few moments away from Suspear and he could see the welcoming party off in the distance. The orange-yellow sun and spear banner blew gently in the desert wind, just as it did a year ago at the Trident when Rhaegar fell. Behind his wheelhouse, was his cautiously large guard, as he would not enter the viper's nest unprotected. Jon let out a deep breath. He knew this meeting with Doran and his half-mad brother, Oberyn would not be easy. Ever since the deaths of Elia and her children, Dorne had been incensed and now they silently plotted a rebellion of their own. Jon could not have that. Not after he had worked so hard to gain the position he was now in. The vipers would have to bend the knee like everyone else or Jon would break them.
After a few more moments, his wheelhouse came to a stop just before the gates of Sunspear. Stepping out, he breathed in the Dornish air, as he felt the high sun singe his skin. Before him, stood several children, a beautiful woman the like he had never seen before, and Oberyn Martell, whose streaky black hair and deadly eyes he could not mistake. He stopped a moment and looked at them all. 'Where is Doran?' He thought. He was the Hand of the King, and surely the Prince of Dorne would not slight him like this by sending his brother and a bunch of urchins to greet him.
Putting on a false smile, Jon walked toward the Red Viper, who stood staring at him with an expressionless face. "Prince Oberyn," Jon falsely smiled, offering his hand out for Oberyn to shake.
Oberyn shook the falcon's wrinkly hand with a small grimace. "Lord Jon Arryn, a pleasure to see you."
"And who is this ravishing woman?" Jon asked as he kissed the exotic woman's offered hand.
"I have the honor of introducing my Paramour, Ellaria Sand, and all of our children." Oberyn chirped, as all of his girls gave a low bow to the old man.
Jon drew a satisfied look across his face, as the children did so. His thoughts then immediately turned to Doran and his whereabouts. "May I ask, Prince Oberyn, but where is your brother?"
"He is in his solar, I can take you to him," Oberyn explained, noticing how Jon failed to even acknowledge his children.
"I see, yes that would be appropriate. Before we go, I have brought your Uncle Lewyn home. He is in one of the carriages further back."
"I'll have my men see to bringing him in," Oberyn said, nodding to a group of Martell spearmen to his side. Jon watched on as the men shoved their way past Jon's own, showing no sign of respect for his soldiers and knights. The sight angered Jon who was only trying to make a good gesture in returning the bones of Lewyn Martell. If it was up to him, he would've had the traitor's remains dumped from a cliff into the sea.
"Shall we, Lord Hand?" Oberyn smirked in a mocking tone, as he gestured for Jon to follow him. Jon took note of how quickly the greeting party dispersed, as all the children went with Ellaria. It made him wonder if they even wanted to be there in the first place.
Jon nodded and began to walk alongside Oberyn as they made their way into the palace of Sunspear. Jon noticed the odd glances he was receiving from some of the women and men around the palace as they walked. Of course, they would have all heard of how Elia had died at the hands of the Mountain and how her children were brutally slaughtered on the orders of Tywin. It occurred to him that Doran and Oberyn would be petty enough to let all of Dorne know of it. Why those of low birth who served the Martells, couldn't keep their treacherous noses out of Realm affairs, he had no idea.
After walking for some time, Oberyn brought Jon to a heavy door, that was guarded by the biggest guard Jon had ever seen. His height and muscular build were only matched by the enormous long axe he wielded, and his white hair reminded Jon of the Targaryens, though this man did not have the beauty to match as his scarred face told the story that this man had seen many battles.
"Areo, our friend, Jon Arryn is here to see the Prince," Oberyn explained, smiling at the stoically standing man.
"Our Prince is expecting you, Jon Arryn." Areo huffed, his voice deep and dark, as he opened the door for both Oberyn and Jon.
Inside, Jon could see Doran sat a heavy dark table, which held three glasses of wine on it. Doran stared down the Hand of the King as he instinctively took a seat, his fingers interlacing in front of him. Oberyn sat beside Jon, pushing his chair a few feet away from the Old Falcon, which irked Jon somewhat.
"Lord Jon," Doran began, as he sipped his wine.
"Prince Doran, I am happy to see you again after so long." Jon falsely smiled, as he picked up his glass of wine with his aging fingers.
"Let me begin by thanking you for returning Lewyn to us. I feared he may not be able to get the rest he deserves if he stayed in King's Landing."
"It is no issue. Your Uncle was a fine warrior and he deserved to be back home with his family."
"He was...Aside from that, Lord Jon, what else brings you to Dorne?" Doran asked, his eyes narrowing.
"Straight to business? I have heard... rumors that Dorne is aligning against the King. I have come here to make sure that does not happen, and that we can resolve our issues peacefully."
"I have heard of no such rumors, Lord Hand. Me and my brother here are more than happy with our current ruler." Oberyn interrupted, his black viper eyes staring holes through the old man before him.
Jon sighed at Oberyns statement, knowing it was completely false. "Let us not play games here, my Princes. We all know that you have been seen going to Essos, Oberyn."
"That is your only evidence of your accused treason?" Oberyn chuckled, as he noticed the unmoving features of Jon. "My Lord Hand, I am a man who likes to travel, what else can I say?"
"You were in Pentos, Oberyn," Jon said firmly, dropping all sense of propriety as he grew frustrated at the Red Vipers deflections.
"And what of it?" Oberyn spat, leaning forward in his chair.
"We know where the Targaryens are, Oberyn, and I just find it strange that a Prince of Dorne was where they are at that moment in time," Jon smirked.
"My Lord Hand, I do hope you are not accusing us of treason?" Doran interjected, raising an eyebrow.
"Of course not, Prince Doran, I simply wish to know where your loyalties lie to avoid...difficulties in the future."
"I assure you, Lord Hand, our loyalties lie with the King." The Prince assured, a smile appearing across his face.
"Good, then I expect no further issues arising between the Crown and Dorne."
"I assure you, Lord Hand, I only desire peace. Dorne is tired of war...especially after what we lost."
Jon felt a chill go down his spine at Doran's words. He knew Elia's demise would have been brought up sooner or later. "I understand, Prince Doran, truly I do. The war took its toll on us all."
"It did, but not all of us have bore the fallout of the war equally." Doran began, as Oberyn stood up from his chair and slowly walked to a window. "We have felt the loss of our sister dearly, and we now wonder if her and her children's murderers will be brought to justice to answer for their heinous acts."
Jon thought long and hard for a moment, thinking of what to say so as not to upset the half-mad viper staring longingly out of the window. "What happened to Elia was an unnecessary act by Ser Gregor Clegane, and as much as I would like to bring him to justice, I am afraid it is up to me."
"You are the Hand of the King, no?" Oberyn spat, turning to face Jon who winced in his chair slightly. "What is the point of wearing that pretty badge, if you cannot bring me the Mountains head?"
"I am sorry to say but it is up to Robert to bring him to justice. However, when I return to Kings Landing, I will petition him for you, or you could come yourselves." The Old Falcon suggested.
"And step foot in that shithole? I thank you, Jon, but it is not for us." Oberyn sighed.
"See what Robert says, and we will respect his decision," Doran added.
"I will, Prince Doran for the sake of Elia and the peace of the Realm."
With those words, Jon felt satisfied enough to leave the matter where it was, as he felt he could trust Doran to honor his word. Especially after he assured him his loyalties remained with the King. After some more small talk on Realm affairs and other trivial matters, Doran bid Jon goodbye and offered him all the delights of Dorne to enjoy during his stay at Sunspear. Once the old man had left the solar, Oberyn quickly moved from the window and sat down before his brother, who was nonchalantly sipping his wine.
"You believe a word he says?" Oberyn asked, putting his feet on the table.
"No, I do not, but I do not think he believes a word we say either." Doran sighed, sipping his wine again.
"He is an old man, Doran."
"He is much smarter than you think, brother. He would not be in the position he is now if he was not."
Oberyn fell silent for a moment before speaking up again. "What you said before about your loyalties to the King..."
"My loyalties are to the King, though I never said which one," Doran smirked. "Come, brother. Let us go see to our uncle's final rest." Doran said as he stood up.
As the brothers traversed the silent corridors of Sunspear, Doran's mind once again lingered on his sister and their quest for vengeance. They needed to exercise greater caution to prevent Jon Arryn's informants from discovering their intentions. A subtler strategy was required; instead of journeying to Essos themselves, they could correspond via ravens when essential. For the moment, Jon appeared appeased, affording them a respite to intensify their preparations for the challenges to come.
The Wall: 284 AC: 3 Days Later:
Benjen stood atop the mighty wall looking down on the lands below. The howling wind blew his sleek black hair and made his gaunt eyes narrow at the glare of the sun that bounced off of the snow. Ever since coming here after his brother's death, he found a certain peace with the emptiness of it all. Eddard's death had struck him harder than he could have ever imagined, especially after it was coupled with the death of his sister, Lyanna. Sometimes he regretted running away from Winterfell before Robb could be brought there, and he felt some shame and dishonor for his actions.
However, he could not stand to be in Winterfell anymore. Not with the ghosts of Eddard and Lyanna lingering around him night and day, and the physical reminder of Eddard running around the place. No. He found solace in the fact that he would never be a part of the politics of Westeros again, seeing as it had taken so much from him. As the beleaguered Stark mused, behind him approached Qhorin Halfhand and Mance Rayder, the two in eager discussion.
"Benjen," Qhorin smiled, as he drew his black brother into an embrace.
"Qhorin, Mance," Benjen replied, withdrawing from the embrace.
"Staring at the lands beyond the wall again?" Qhorin asked.
"I was just thinking of times gone past, friend." Benjen sadly smiled, looking at Qhorins recently chopped-off fingers.
"Best not to be doing that, lad. You'll have half the mind to throw yourself from the Wall." Mance chuckled. "The Lord Commander was asking for you." He added.
"What for this time?" The young Stark sighed.
"Best he tells you himself. Come, we'll take you to him."
All three men of the Night's Watch made their way towards the lift that ran down the entirety of the Wall. As they entered and descended, Benjen had trouble shaking the uneasy feeling he felt when the lift jolted and whined. He figured he would become more used to it as time went on, and before long, he wouldn't even notice it at all. The journey down the wall dragged on as the three men made small japes with each other and spoke of their days, and what upcoming ranges they may be a part of.
As they arrived at the bottom, Mance and Qhorin led their younger black brother to the quarters of their Lord Commander. Mance knocked on the door, knocking some snow off of the roof above them as he did so. The gruff voice from inside bid them to enter and Mance and Qhorin made sure that only Benjen was the one to enter. As the Stark did, he saw Lord Commander Qorgyle sitting at his desk with a stack of papers sitting in front of him.
"Ah, Benjen, please sit." The Lord Commander huffed. Benjen did as he was bid, noticing how hoarse the old man's voice sounded.
"Is there something wrong, Lord Commander?" Benjen asked, pulling his cloak around him more tightly.
"I have been getting a stream of never-ending pleas from your late brother's widow, asking for you to go home, as you well know."
"I see...I take it you have received another?"
"I have, Benjen. This morning, here, read it." Lord Commander Qorgyle sighed, tossing a piece of parchment to the bemused man who sat across from him.
Benjen read it twice over and let out a deep sigh when he had finished. It was the same as all the others had been. Catelyn Stark and Brynden Tully had begged him again and again to find some way out of his vows and to return to Winterfell to help raise Robb and serve alongside them as his Regent until he came of age. Benjen would be lying if wasn't half tempted at times.
"It is the same as the others," Benjen concluded, placing the paper aside.
"It is, yes, but I have half the mind to send you back to Winterfell if it would stop that woman and that fish from nagging me."
"My vows are taken for life, Lord Commander, I cannot go back on them so easily."
"They are, and it is almost unheard of for a black brother to be released from his vows. But there I can make an exception."
"I am sorry, Lord Commander, but I take my vows seriously, lest I be disgraced."
"Look Benjen...I will be honest with you. Only two Starks remain in this world, your brother's son and you. One is an infant and the other is stuck freezing with all of us here. I can release you from your vows. You will be the first man to be released from them for nearly a thousand years if you would accept."
Benjen could not believe the words his Lord Commander was saying to him. He came to the Night's Watch to get away from Winterfell, but now his Lord Commander was actively pushing him back there. "My Lord-" Benjen attempted to speak before the old Qorgyle cut him off.
"You talk of disgrace, yet you are willing to abandon your family when they need you most?" He asked, eyeing the conflicted Stark. "I can make a deal with you, Stark. I'll release you from your vows and when you get back to Winterfell, send me a hundred men, as you well know we are struggling with manpower and the like."
"I cannot send you freemen to freeze here at the edge of the world." Benjen chuckled.
"Send me prisoners, men who have no work, I will take anyone and forge them into black brothers of the watch."
Benjen let out a heavy sigh as he considered the man's offer. "Is it even possible to be released from my vows?" He eventually asked.
"It is. It is very rare. Very rare indeed. But if losing one man means I gain a hundred more, it is something I can live with."
"Fine. Release me. Write to Brynden and Catelyn. Tell them I am coming home."
Lord Commander Qorgyle stood up, his old bones creaking as he did so. "Good, Lord Stark. Now, don't forget to send me my men or I'll haul you back here myself." He chuckled, only half jesting.
"I will. Thank you, Lord Commander. It had been an honor." Benjen smiled, shaking his Lord Commander's hand.
"Oh, before you go." Lord Commander Qorgyle said, as he pulled some parchment from one of the drawers in his desk, and began to write for a few minutes before handing it to Benjen. "This is a decree from myself saying you have been released from your vows. I wouldn't want anyone stringing you up before you've made it to Winterfell."
"Thank you, Lord Commander." Benjen nodded, tucking the note within his cloak.
"Right, well, it has been a pleasure, Benjen. You can take some food and a horse with you. Consider it a parting gift."
"You're most kind, Lord Commander." Benjen smiled, before leaving the quarters.
Benjen inhaled deeply as he emerged into the open air. For the first time in almost a year, he sensed a burden had been removed from his shoulders, and his direction seemed much clearer. Maybe it was the Old Gods who had set him on this course, and he wondered if this was what Lyanna and Eddard would have wished for him. Reflecting further, he acknowledged his folly in shirking his familial responsibilities, recognizing that he had let his family's demise obscure his judgment far too long.
After bidding farewell to his former black brothers, Benjen filled a satchel with provisions and hoisted it onto his back. He climbed atop a horse as dark as the night and set out from Castle Black. His name might be remembered for being the first man to be released from his vows in a millennium, but he aspired to be recognized for more. He desired to be known as the man who restored the Starks with his nephew Robb and was determined to raise the boy with the same honor that Ned was known for.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed reading. I searched everywhere to see if anyone had been released from their vows before and couldn't find anything really except a few GRRM quotes saying 'There are a few other cases but they're very rare'. So I'm just going off of what he's saying and winning it a bit but I hope it makes some sense. Regardless, thanks for reading.