Got dragon si

by Dextrode

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Fire Made Flesh - An Asoiaf dragon SI

Thread starter Beebos Start date Mar 28, 2023 Tags a song of ice and fire self insert dragon dragon si

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Threadmarks Chapter 11

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Beebos

Bless King Maegor

May 16, 2023

#466

He knew he was dreaming, but when one dreamed, they expected it to be tranquil and without interruption, here however, he was met by the appearance of a man. To his great size the man was like any other human, small and dainty, but Seath for a moment was not a dragon but a human once more; he felt his shape and being dispense and remold back into his old form once more. He looked at his hands, arms, and legs, he tugged at the shirt and jacket that he had once worn everywhere in his youth, most importantly, he was young again. He remembered dying old and decrepit, but now he was as young again and he felt the vigors of youth fill him, his smile grew even broader.

He had forgotten about the man, but when a distant and low-pitched voice was uttered, he came to look in their direction. The figure seemed blurry as if they were a hologram made of mist, he could not make out their exact shape or face, he could generalize though, and Seath knew he was looking at a man.

"Ah, so you're the one who made the candles burn even brighter than before..." Seath scratched his head at that.

Candles? What Candles? Those that you get from the store?

Somehow, the figure seemed to read his mind since the figure snorted and the visage of a smile formed on their lips, at least what Seath would call lips. "You should learn to shield your mind better," the man said. "There are those in this land that can do as I and see across great distances and peak into your mind, it's not hard. There is one who possesses a candle who has yet to make it burn, when it does work for him be wary."

When Seath reached out for the man his wing phased right through, there was no feeling or sensation to it, it was as if the man did not even exist. The man reformed quickly.

"What candles? And who should I have to be wary of?" Seath asked.

"The Ironborn king's spymaster," the shade replied. "The man is infatuated by the arcane and magic, and you are magic made flesh, he will make getting close to you a top priority, along with his king. In fact, they already have taken one great step towards doing that." Seath had no idea what he meant by that.

"I do not intend to meddle with human affairs, nor get close to that tyrant of a king. Nothing they could do could ever make me want to even be in the same room as them, and if I were I would end their vile existence in an instant!"

"Yes, I will admit Harren Hoare is a vicious character, but that does not change the fact that they know of you and believe they have something that could make you comply."

"What would that be?"

The shade set its soulless and empty eyes on Seath. "They took the woman," it said. "They took the woman."

Seath wished to ask a follow-up question; he opened his mouth, but the words became lodged in his throat. He looked around nervously feeling the words caught and refusing to come out, the shade, where once it was a blurry image almost like mist taken human form, began to dissipate and ease away.

"Farewell, dragon," it said. "I do not believe we will come to see each other again..."

He tried to call out, but his words failed again, his frustration boiled over to the surface. Before he knew it, whatever that dream had been disappeared in an instant and he felt himself twisting in a manner befitting a snake, he felt himself a child again rocking back and forth like a child when they had a nightmare. With a shudder, he opened his eyes and was greeted by the branches and blood-red leaves of the weirwood tree that had been his canopy for these past months.

He calmed his crazed breath and brought himself to stand.

What in the hell was that he wondered to himself. It felt far too real to be a dream, could it have been real?

Woman? What woman?

Dread grew in him, flashes of Jessica came to the forefront of his mind, he grew worried now, extremely worried. His sister was still asleep, her black shape coiled next to him, she seemingly failed to realize the distress that he was in. The shades words bounced back, like a ping pong ball, with dread gripping at his heart he departed their fair isle and flew close to where Jessica's hut would be, landing he approached on land the rest of the way, it would be better than bringing down a mass of trees when he wanted to land.

He saw smoke and the faint laughter of a child, he smiled, she was safe. They heard him as well since Jessica popped her head out the window. "Lord Seath!" She came rushing out and greeted him, her daughter was hot on her, she also greeted him, though instead of a bow or curtsy, she chose to rush at his leg and bring her little arms around it. She smiled at the display, how he loved children, he still found it a blessing that Jessica had one, he remembered that Jeyne also had children, if she were ever to return, he would insist on bringing her children.

"What is the matter, my lord? Do you seek something?" Jessica's eyes were filled with concern, though her daughter, Alice giggled and showered me with a great many questions and demands.

"I came to check up on you," Jessica smiled. "I had a terrible dream, that is all."

She blushed. "I am safe my lord, all due to you of course, your presence had made this land a far safer and better place. The villagers say such things as well."

They likely do say that, but do they also realize that my presence will one day bring them greater danger? I will not be here forever, one day I will spread my wings and fly far away, to new lands and new sights. Will the people of those new lands see me the same way as they do here, as some guardian brought to them by their gods?

He bid farewell to the girls and took back to the sky, perhaps flying was needed to take his mind off his worries. During the flight he thought back on those questions, he thought about the day he would depart from these lands and leave the people behind, he did not know when he wished to depart but that day felt like it was coming closer, there was something that was screaming at him to leave. It started out as a little voice most days, but some days it was a raging storm that would fill his head and refuse to leave.

As he flew high above the earth all things looked to him like mere specs, distant dots that had no weight on him. The Riverlands were beautiful, which made him wonder about the other kingdoms. They were so close, all it would take is a few hours flying and he could be in each, maybe a day or so for Dorne, but nevertheless, when he looked down he lost himself, the long flowing rivers and the endless green garden made him feel as if Westeros was a tapestry woven by God himself.

With each beat of his wings, he traversed on, the land molding and changing below him. What once were the Riverlands now became something different, the rivers were replaced with deep valleys, the hills now turned into high-reaching mountains, and green forests that hugged the land became even older and more impenetrable than before. He marveled at the towering mountains, their peaks kissed by wisps of clouds, standing as ancient sentinels guarding the secrets of the land. From his lofty position, he beheld winding rivers and snaking valleys, their serpentine forms painting a mesmerizing picture of nature's artistry.

As he flew higher Seath imagined the stark and desolate beauty of the North, with its snow-capped mountains and sprawling moors, a realm that held the tales of ancient legends within its icy embrace. Jeyne told him how once, many centuries ago, giants roamed the lands north of the neck. How I would love to see a giant, are we dragons cursed to be the last remnants of a world long gone?

His wings carried him further. He imagined the rugged coastline of the Stormlands where crashing waves met imposing cliffs, a testament to the untamed power of the sea. Shipbreaker Bay is what they called the bay that sat between Storms End and Tarth, for some reason, the bay reminded him of the Bermuda Triangle. His eyes traced the gently rolling hills of the Reach, adorned with fields of vibrant flowers and bountiful harvests. The arid deserts of Dorne whispered tales of scorching heat and tales of hardship, captivating his imagination with their mystery, calling to him to come and discover them.

He shuddered at such things.

He knew now why so many legends were born here and why they endured, the land lived and breathed such things, it was beautiful. Just as he thought such images would last forever, they faded away as quickly as they came, everything relenting to the wind and soon enough all he could glimpse was the old familiar landscape that he had come to call a second home.

He sighed. Maybe it was time to go after all...

He spent the remainder of the morning and some hours of the afternoon flying, only returning to his fair isle when his stomach began to call him, he brought with him the head of an aurochs. Though when he arrived, he wished that he had never returned. Waiting for him on the bank of the lake that hugged the fair isle was Jessica whose face bore the weight of worry and fear, etching a map of concern upon her features. Lines etched deep furrows upon her brow, carving channels of unease and distress.

He didn't even need to ask her what the problem was, he could tell already.

"Jessica?" Seath asked, bringing himself over to where she was. "What is the matter? Is it the Ironborn?" He prayed it wasn't the case.

Much to his displeasure, however, she nodded her head. "Yes, my lord," she said, a quiver in her voice. "It's the villagers, something terrible my lord." Every word seemed to bring her closer to tears, and Seath's heart grew anguished.

"Tell me what happened." He tried to order her as gently as he could, he dared not scare her, she was too sweet to him, far too sweet.

At first, he had felt frustrated and bothered by the fact that she refused to simply tell him what the villagers had found, simply saying that it was terrible and horrible. Seath hated uncertainty and vagueness, especially when it was accompanied by an implication of bad news, but when she pointed him to where he was needed, he understood why exactly why the poor woman was unable to describe to him what happened. When he arrived, he found a grouping of villagers all armed with what weapons Seath had already provided them in the past, from previous Ironborn attacks he and his sister conducted. Some were even geared out in Ironborn armor, he spied the crest of House Hoare on one of their breasts.

The men bowed in reverence for Seath, who they saw as a deity of sorts, but Seath paid them no mind. He was far too shocked by the sight that was presented to him.

The branches of the tree that greeted him reached out like twisted fingers; their skeletal forms silhouetted against the gray sky. They twisted and turned as if caught in a permanent dance of agony and despair. Leaves, brown and withered, clung tenaciously to their branches, bearing witness to countless autumns and the fading echoes of life's vibrant hues.

At the base of the ancient giant, the roots sprawled in a labyrinthine tangle, delving deep into the earth like the claws of a slumbering beast. Moss and ivy clung to its trunk, embracing it in an eerie green embrace as if nature itself sought solace within its somber presence.

It was what was decorating the tree that made him burn with the fury of the sun. Like some twisted and sick Christmas tree, it was covered and dangled with the remains of several men, their entrails hanging about the branches making the tree look like it came from Hell itself, everyone was silent as they all silently burned with fury, Seath could sense it and it only made him even angrier.

Shaking with absolute fury he gently reached one of the hung men and tore the rope that held him up, with what gentle jaws that he could he laid them him down and looked down at him as he slept against the dirt. He looked so peaceful.

Following his lead, the other men stepped forward and did what they could to bring down the remaining bodies. By the end, thirteen men lay shoulder to shoulder next to each other, together they all stand vigil.

Seath notices one of the men beginning to break. Though he fought valiantly to restrain the rising tide of anguish, it slipped through the cracks in his armor. The tightening of his jaw and the quiver of his lips betrayed his battle to maintain composure, a futile attempt to keep the floodgates closed. Deep within, a tempest raged, threatening to unleash a torrent of sorrow upon the world.

The sight threatened to bring tears to Seath's own eyes.

"What are your funeral rites?" The religion of the Old Gods was a queer religion, even by the standards of pagan religions. Though he supposed it would seem strange to him, even this religion went beyond what he knew about old Norse and Germanic faiths. According to Jeyne, who worshiped them, the remains of loved ones are buried beneath crypts among their kin, but Seath suspected that the smallfolk differed in their rites.

One man, burly in stature, his countenance etched with a deep frown that melded with his brown beard, found his voice amidst the heavy silence. "We shall reclaim them," he uttered, his words dripping with sorrow. "Our seer shall cleanse their souls and prepare them for the gods, and amidst the embrace of the ancient trees, they shall find their final resting place."

Seath nodded; that at least brought ease to his heart.

One of the men departed on his horse and returned with a cart, with tender care, the lifeless bodies were reverently placed upon the cart, ready to be transported back to the village. Seath stood there, a silent observer, his gaze following their departure down the winding dirt road. As the cart and its mournful cargo gradually vanished from sight, Seath turned to take his leave, the weight of the moment heavy upon him. But just as he was about to depart, a voice suddenly pierced the air, calling out to him.

"M'lord," the voice cried out, "M'lord! M'lord!"

Seath's gaze swiftly snapped towards the sound, his eyes locking onto the sight of a rider hurtling towards him atop a galloping steed. There was no need for inquiries; his piercing stare zeroed in on the letter, stained crimson and clutched tightly in the man's right hand. A grim resolve etched itself upon Seath's countenance, his jaw tightening as he braced for the imminent revelation that awaited him.

"Yes?" Seath's voice, a blend of impatience and hidden trepidation, cut through the air with a commanding tone, compelling the messenger to deliver their news without delay.

"A missive, m'lord," the man replied, his words tinged with a touch of nervousness, as if oblivious to Seath's keen awareness. " Twas found upon one of the fallen, tucked within their shirts."

Damnit, if I only had fucking arms!

Seath motioned for the man to extend the letter, holding it out for his inspection. Amidst the stains of blood, one detail caught Seath's eye, a tiny speck of blue. As his gaze lingered upon it for a fleeting moment, realization dawned upon him like a sudden revelation: it was wax. I'm an idiot, Seath thought. Of course, it's fucking wax, what else could it be!

He asked him to open it and hold it out for him to read. His heart dropped.

"Know that I am privy to your existence, cunning creature. Tidings of your uncommon wit have reached mine ears, speaking of a mind that surpasses your kin. 'Tis said you comprehend the spoken word and grasp the intricacies of human thought. Such a thing intrigues me.

In this written epistle, I offer both admiration and caution. Let it be known I wield dominion over vast lands and command formidable might. I know that you have caused much trouble for my men, I give you a pardon for such past mistakes, but if you cross me again there shall be dire consequences.

Take heed, for Jeyne, the fair Blackwood woman to whom you've grown attached, resides under my watchful gaze. Her fate rests within my grasp, and her well-being hinges upon your compliance. Should you dare defy me, rest assured, she shall endure torment beyond measure. I possess the means to inflict pain that would make even the most valiant souls quiver in trepidation. Consider this a solemn warning.

Yet, an opportunity presents itself. I recognize your extraordinary intellect, Seath, and extend an offer that could reshape our world. If you seek to safeguard Jeyne and explore a potential alliance, I bid you heed my summons and present yourself at my seat of Harrenhal. There, we shall discuss matters of grave import.

Let it be known, this missive carries the promise of a new path. The choice lies in your hands. Embrace the course that aligns with your best interests and make your way to Harrenhal, showcasing your worth and illuminating the value of your exceptional mind. Fail to comply, and the consequences shall be grave indeed."

Signed,

Harren Hoare,

King of the Isles and the Rivers.

He had been played, exposed utterly for his recklessness.

I was reckless, I should have never approached Jeyne, and now because of me, she rests in the clutches of the monster. What do I do now?

Taking the letter and destroying it. A roar erupted, shaking the air, as if the earth itself trembled. Harren's face, a face that he had seen through Jeyne's mind, materialized in his, stoking the flames of vengeance. Thoughts of tearing the Ironborn king apart consumed him. Revenge for Jeyne burned in his core.

Jeyne, a pawn in this wretched game, a friend used against him. He refused to be threatened or blackmailed. No, Harrenhal would not claim his submission. Another path beckoned, a realization dawning. Jeyne had been right; his reveal was inevitable.

With deliberate, sinuous movements, Seath turned his gaze westward, his wings unfurling with majestic grandeur. No longer would he remain concealed, lurking in the periphery. It was time to blaze a new trail, to seek allies. He departed, his smile widening with each beat of his powerful wings, a promise of retribution etched upon his serpentine visage.

Curiously, a smile played upon his lips, an unfamiliar warmth flooding his heart. Why? Why did excitement surge through his veins? It was a peculiar sensation, defying the apprehension one might expect after so much seclusion. But thoughts of people, of interaction, tugged at his hidden desires. How he missed it.

He knew what must occur and what he must do.

As Seath soared through the skies, his massive wings propelling him with grace and power, it did not take long before he caught sight of the ancient stronghold in the distance. Raventree Hall, the heart of House Blackwood, stood proud amidst a forest of gnarled, dark trees surrounded by a moat. The thick stone walls rose defiantly, standing as a warning to any army that dared try and storm its walls.

As he neared what caught his attention was what was forming within its walls.

Seath glided gracefully through the open skies; his piercing gaze fixated on the courtyard of Raventree below. From his elevated position, the scene unfolded before him like a living tableau.

The soldiers of House Blackwood assembled in disciplined formation, their movements purposeful and synchronized. Clad in their armor, they stood tall and resolute, Seath could tell they were a unified force bound by loyalty and duty.

The shimmer of sunlight on their polished armor caught Seath's attention, as it reflected off their shields and spears. The men-at-arms stood in tight lines, their shields raised and spears pointed outward, forming an impenetrable wall of defense.

Their commanders, voices firm and commanding, issued orders that echoed through the courtyard. The soldiers responded with unwavering obedience, adjusting their positions with practiced precision.

Seath marveled at the unity displayed by the soldiers, their formation a testament to their training and unwavering dedication. As he circled above, he could sense their anticipation, their shared purpose hanging in the air.

But they were small, only numbering a thousand, maybe more. It seems like they knew what had happened to Jeyne, either through word of mouth or Harren had already sent them a notice. She left me two days ago, two days. They best be gathering their soldiers because this cannot be it.

Seath kept an eye on everyone as he descended gracefully, his massive wings beating against the wind as he descended upon the courtyard of Raventree. The soldiers below stood frozen, their eyes locked upon the awe-inspiring sight above them. He was no doubt a sight to behold, with his sleek white scales and shimmering golden wings that glinted in the sunlight. The sound of his powerful wings beating echoed across the surrounding countryside, drawing the attention of all those who saw him.

He landed with a resounding thud, causing the ground to tremble beneath his weight. Seath stood outside the walls of the castle, his head held high, his eyes scanning the battlements and towers for any sign of danger.

As the wind whispered through the trees and the distant cries of birds punctuated the silence, Seath stood there, a beacon of awe-inspiring might and mystery. The world seemed to hold its breath in anticipation, aware that in this singular moment, history was being made.

The soldiers, adorned in their armor and armed with crossbows, lined the formidable walls of the castle. They stood shoulder to shoulder, their eyes fixed upon the imposing figure of Seath who loomed just beyond their reach.

Tension hung in the air, palpable and electric, as the soldiers awaited Seath's next move. Their faces were etched with determination, their grip on their weapons unwavering. Each soldier stood tall, a testament to their training and discipline.

Seath could see in their eyes that they were ready to die for their homes and that they would not back down, he respected that, and he could also understand the sentiment. It was in that moment that another feeling clashed within him, it was erratic and wild, it ordered for him to take back to the air and rain fire upon them for even daring to stand before him, how dare a human not cower before him. He breathed, however, and soon that feeling was gone.

Peering from behind the battlements, a face emerged, and Seath's eyes widened with recognition. It was none other than Jason Blackwood, bearing a striking resemblance to Jeyne. Seath observed the shock etched across Jason's features, the depth of his astonishment evident in his wide eyes.

With urgency in his voice, Jason called for the men to lower their arms, his command slicing through the tense atmosphere. Seath watched as Jason engaged in a heated argument with another man, likely one of the other commanders. Their voices mingled with the clatter of armor, their gestures animated in the midst of their disagreement.

The significance of the moment hung in the air, as Seath's gaze shifted between the scene unfolding before him and the soldiers on the walls. The tension that had gripped them moments ago began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of confusion and uncertainty. The realization of their encounter, coupled with the exchange between Jason and the other commander, added a new layer of intrigue to the unfolding events.

After a brief moment, Jason and the other man vanished from sight, descending below the battlements. Several minutes passed, and Seath's anticipation grew as the bridge over the moat slowly lowered. Beyond the lowered portcullis, a small group of riders stood in readiness, their gaze fixed upon him.

Among them, Seath quickly spotted Jason, still recognizable despite the distance. The man he had been arguing withstood by his side, their earlier disagreement seemingly put aside. But it was the figure at the forefront who commanded attention. Clad in armor and cloaked in heavy fabric, the lord's weathered features spoke of age and experience. His position at the head of the group left no doubt as to his authority, with them a score of soldiers rode behind them.

As the riders approached, Seath's keen eyes discerned the intricate details of their armor, the glimmering emblems that marked their allegiance. Each passing moment heightened his anticipation, the weight of their encounter heavy upon him. The sight of the lord, a figure of power and influence, confirmed Seath's instincts.

The old lord regarded Seath with a skeptical gaze, his features etched with a blend of curiosity and caution. Slowly, he uttered his first words, his tone steady but which gave way to nervousness.

"Dragon," the old lord's voice resonated with a blend of surprise and wariness, his gaze fixed upon the magnificent creature before him. "Your presence here, in these lands, is a sight I never fathomed to witness in my lifetime. And to think that my own son, against all expectations, has rushed to your defense with words and statements that seem fantasy." He cast a knowing glance at Jason, who returned it with a subtle smile. "Yet, the words he utters carry a semblance of truth... Can it be, dragon, that you can speak?"

"He speaks the truth, my lord." The old lord's reaction was instantaneous, a jolt coursing through him that sent his horse into a momentary frenzy. Yet, his gaze remained fixed upon me, defiant and unyielding, concealing the turbulent emotions simmering beneath the surface. "It was I who they were meeting in secret, every fortnight or so, Jeyne would come and read to me. I can only hope that you did not punish them for indulging in my want for companionship and knowledge..."

His words hung heavy in the air, laden with the weight of regret. "I had half a mind to, I was waiting to berate Jeyne," he confessed, his voice thick with emotion. "But when my dear niece went missing and a raven arrived bearing ill tidings, all my wrath melted away, replaced by a profound sorrow. Had I known I would not have forbidden it; I would have sent riders and men with her." The lord's countenance was etched with lines of grief as he spoke, and Seath could sense the depth of his melancholy as keenly as if it were his own.

"We may be powerless to alter the course of the past, but in this moment, we possess the strength to act," Seath proclaimed, his voice resolute and brimming with determination. "I share in the blame for her capture, my lord," Seath said with a solemn tone. "But I swear to God that I will do all in my power to right this wrong. I have come to fight at your side, to help you in this struggle. Harren has broken an ancient contract between a king and their vassal, and for that, he shall pay. Jeyne will be returned to her home, I give you my word. Allow me to join your cause, and together we shall see justice done."

Lord Blackwood's gaze swept over his men, his son, and the other commander, finding affirmation in their resolute nods.

As they retreated behind the castle's walls, the clamor of movement resonated throughout the bridge they streaked across. Seath glided gracefully above the towering walls, his arrival commanding attention. The dragon's majestic form touched down in the muddied ward, where a gathering of men had assembled, forming a protective shield. Behind them, the castle's denizens, a mixture of intrigue and trepidation etched upon their faces, watched with a blend of awe and caution. In the distance, the distant giggles of children reached Seath's ears, and his sharp gaze caught sight of two youngsters who bore a striking resemblance to Jason and Jeyne.

Ah, those must be their children, Seath mused.

Tables and chairs were brought out from the great hall, along with maps and small figures to represent armies. The sight was comical, at least from Seath's point of view, seeing a group of men and a dragon hunched over a table discussing strategy.

"One thousand eighty," Jason stated, placing a miniature figure over the location of Raventree. "That is how many men we have currently raised. More are still trickling in, and we have yet to include the levies of our vassals."

Seath turned his attention to Lord Hoster, his curiosity piqued. "And how many men would you have in total?"

Lord Hoster let out a weary sigh. "Three thousand men," he replied. "Three thousand men in total..."

Seath's eyes widened in realization. The numbers were not insignificant, not by a long shot, but Seath knew that they needed more.

"And what about allies?" Seath pressed further. "You do have allies, don't you?"

"I have sent ravens to my goodbrother, Lord Jared, and to our cousin, Lord Devin Piper," Lord Hoster explained. "My goodbrother has raised his banners and marches west to join us. However, I have yet to receive a reply from Pinkmaiden..."

Seath leaned in, eager to assess the potential reinforcements. "And how many men does your goodbrother command?"

Lord Hoster let out a weary breath. "Perhaps a thousand, maybe fifteen hundred men," he replied.

Seath's excitement surged. The addition of Lord Jared's forces would significantly bolster their numbers, and an allied force would bolster morale.

"And if your cousin were to march with us?" Seath inquired, his voice brimming with anticipation.

Lord Hoster's expression carried a glimmer of hope. "House Piper commands two thousand men, perhaps even more," he revealed.

Wow, we really fucking need that cousin!

"What the plan then?" Seath looked around at all the men, they looked at each other and then one man, the older man who was arguing with Jason earlier grabbed a miniature and placed it over a marking that looked like another structure.

"As I suggested earlier, once we have amassed our levies, we march on the only Ironborn stronghold on our lands," Seath peered down and saw that the fort sat near the Red Fork which in turn bordered what he knew to be Bracken lands. "We occupy it and take all the supplies and arms that it holds, from there we fortify and hold our position."

"No, I already commanded that there would be no attack!" Lord Hoster slammed the table and grabbed the miniature that was placed on the fort. "Harren Hoare has my niece, do you think he will hesitate to send me a finger or an ear if I should harm any man of his?!"

"My lord, I did not mean-"

"I said no attack, that is final! We gather our men and wait for Lord Ryger, we wait for my cousin. We show that we will not back down from his aggression, I have already sent a raven to Harren asking for terms."

He doesn't know, Harren didn't tell him. "My lord," Seath said gently. "Harren will not release her no matter what you try and ask of Harren..."

He looked at Seath with muddled eyes. "And why is that good dragon?"

"Because..." He hesitated. "Because it's not something you did or something you have that he wants, it's me that he wants... He is using Jeyne as leverage against me, he is trying to use my affection for her to deliver myself onto him..."

Everyone looked at Seath with wide eyes, but no one had a greater look of astonishment and shock than Lord Blackwood himself.

"What now?" It was Jason who looked at his father who proceeded to slouch in a chair.

The previous man, Willem, Seath suddenly remembered his name and spoke once more. "This only makes things much clearer," he kneeled beside the old lord. "We must march on Stronghold Volmark, my lord, we must! Harren desires our dragon friend, but I do not believe he will simply give himself away like some cheap beast, there is only one answer!"

Jason also came beside him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Father, we must do something. You heard Seath, there is nothing you can offer to get Jeyne back, she would want us to fight!"

The old lord stared at the ground and mumbled. "My brother's daughter... my brother's daughter... I cannot... he would kill her..."

Seath looked on in pity, his attention grabbed when a boy stepped forward from what seemed nowhere and placed a hand on the old man.

"Uncle," he said grabbing the old lord's attention. "Listen to me, please. How many times have you said Jeyne and I are like our father?"

"Many times, Ben, many times..."

"Why did our father hang?"

Those words seemed to sting Hoster Blackwood the most. "I told him to beg for mercy, to prostate himself before Harren's feet, I did. I did not love it, but I did what I had to do, your father, was however a far too stubborn for his own good."

Benjen shook his head. "You also called him brave, remember? Do not despair now, Uncle, it's time for all of us to be brave now, brave like my father. Be brave like Jeyne."

Seath watched as the young man's words lit a fire under the old lord. He touched his nephew's hand and nodded. "Brave like Roger... aye." Standing the old man now held a resolve that would make a score of men cower, Seath smiled at that.

"We do as Willem suggests, we march on Volmark once we have the strength to do so."

"When will that be?" Seath asked.

"Once our vassal levies arrive, which will likely be within the week, if not sooner. We take the fortress and hold it, if the gods are with us my good brother will meet us on the path there and gather our forces. We then hold and wait for any Ironborn force, we cannot win an offensive war against Harren."

What followed was a discussion on various matters, which Seath deemed unnecessary for him to comprehend fully. As the sun began its descent and the early evening hues painted the sky, there was one more topic that Seath wished to broach.

"My lord," Seath called out to Hoster as everyone dispersed to their assigned tasks and responsibilities. "A word."

"Yes, Seath?" Hoster's voice stumbled over the unfamiliar name, requiring him to grow accustomed to uttering it.

"If we could speak privately for a moment?" Seath requested.

"Of course, Seath, though it must be brief," Hoster acquiesced.

Seath nodded, his golden eyes glinting with determination. "Very quick, my lord, I promise. To be blunt, we require more men. While the smallfolk residing near Grangers Forest remain loyal to me, and can be gathered for war, they would be better suited as a garrisoning force. for the actual battle, however, we need seasoned soldiers. But that is not the crux of the matter. What we truly need are allies. We cannot win this fight alone."

"I understand, Seath, but the other riverlords are as wary of Harren as a cat is of a hound. They will not rise in rebellion unless faced with complete annihilation. For now, we stand alone," Hoster explained, his fingers absently stroking his beard.

"But surely, there must be something we can do? Something you can do? As their peer, this might be their only chance to rid themselves of Harren's tyranny," Seath pressed, his tone filled with urgency.

Hoster pondered, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "If I were able to stand before them in person, to address them directly, I might sway a few. Others might only rise if assured of victory. That would require us to face an opposing army in the field, and once again, we would need more men."

"Your cousin and others? How certain are you that you could sway some to our cause?" Seath inquired, hopeful for a glimmer of optimism.

"Reasonably certain. I have known many of these lords for years, some even their fathers. I believe I could sway a few, perhaps the Tullys and Vances, maybe even the Mallisters. Donnel Mallister has always been a dear friend," Hoster replied, his tone tinged with a mix of confidence and nostalgia.

Seath locked eyes with Hoster, his resolve solidifying within him. He contemplated the potential for success, and with a deep sigh, he lowered himself to the ground, folding his wings against his sides. Selfishness had no place at this crucial juncture.

All right, Seath, this concession is for this moment, for the sake of Jeyne. It is all for Jeyne.

"Are you well, Seath? Why do you prostrate yourself?" Hoster questioned, concerned by the dragon's sudden posture.

"I once vowed that no one would ever ride upon my back, my lord, and that still holds true. You are neither my rider nor my master. I do this for Jeyne's sake. Time is of the essence, and we must gather all the support we can," Seath explained, his voice resonating with unwavering determination.

"Are you absolutely certain about this? I believe a raven would suffice," Hoster proposed, a glimmer of hesitation in his voice.

Seath fixed his resolute gaze upon the old lord. "I am certain, my lord. Now, please, mount up."

With deliberate slowness and the utmost care, Hoster Blackwood mounted Seath's back. The situation was far from comfortable, an arrangement that Seath despised. But there was no time to dwell on personal discomfort. Once Seath ensured that the old lord was securely seated, as securely as one could be on a dragon's back without a saddle, he unfurled his wings and looked upward.

Suddenly, the onlookers below took notice and erupted in a mixture of awe and astonishment. They shouted and pointed, their voices carrying through the air. Jason and Benjen stood frozen, their eyes wide with disbelief as they witnessed their lord grasping onto Seath for dear life.

As they ascended, Hoster Blackwood couldn't contain his emotions. He let out a series of expletives and curses, his voice carried away by the wind, his fear and exhilaration blending together in a chaotic symphony. The ground swiftly receded beneath them, shrinking to insignificance.

Seath, navigating the skies, turned his gaze toward Hoster. "Where shall we fly first, my lord?"

"To Pinkmaiden!"

Last edited: May 16, 2023

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Threadmarks Chapter 12

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Beebos

Bless King Maegor

May 24, 2023

#507

When Pinkmaiden had finally come into view the sun had long since bid it farewell to them, now the moon was all that shined upon them, its gentle glow embracing them like a mother. The air was especially cold tonight, something that Seath felt bad for old Hoster, of all the days that he would allow a person to ride him it was the windiest and coldest day. He took that as a sign, all who rode him were in for a rough time it seemed.

"Do you see it?"

Hoster stirred from his slumped position on Seath, the ride clearly taking a negative effect on the older man, nonetheless, he stirred. "Aye, I see it. Good, I was beginning to believe that I would fall to my doom."

Seath spat. "Is it really that bad? Maybe you should try being me than, I'm the one carrying you on my back."

Hoster seemed to regret his words because he rubbed Seath's neck in a manner similar to how one would a horse. "Forgive me, Seath, I did not mean to say it in such a way, but it is the truth. I am not one for flying I'm afraid, I'll leave that to the Targaryens."

"Leave it to no one, I do not have a rider, nor will I. I am not a beast of burden, if I allow someone on my back it will because I allow it for specific situations." Seath explained. "Like this for example, I can't even fathom to think how long travelling by horse would be."

"Many weeks," Hoster answered. "By that time Harren would have been on us and our little rebellion would have ended in a whimper."

"Indeed, you should thank me for this you know?"

Hoster laughed heartedly. "Forgive me, Seath, but this was your idea, not mine. Nonetheless, I give my thanks. My niece means much to me, she was my brother's beloved daughter, his only daughter. I have suffered much at the hands of Harren, but this is one act I cannot tolerate."

"I like Jeyne, she's a friend, a good friend. To be honest, my only real human friend." Seath explained to the old man who listened intently to him. "I had no idea what her reaction would be upon meeting me, but it went well, and she was gracious enough to indulge my request for companionship, she and Jason."

Hoster gave a hearty laugh. "Jeyne has always been a curious girl you see, and above all that she has always had a love for dragons. Since she was a girl, your arrival I suppose was a gift from the gods to her, if only such a gift did not come with such a terrible fate."

"Had I known that the Ironborn were aware of me to the point that they were able to stalk her path I would have insistedd that she stay away from me. I trust that you believe me in this, I only ever wanted her safe."

"I believe you, Seath, you need not worry. Nor do I resent you for her capture, in no way do I expect you to surrender yourself to that man. Nor would I wish it, if Harren were ever able to get his hands on a dragon..." Hoster trailed off. "God's help us all, it would be the end of the Riverlands."

"Be grateful then that I am not like other dragons then, he could never get his hands on a dragon even if he wanted to," Seath said. "I'm his best chance at having on and that's because I can actually understand human speech and interact with people, my instincts go beyond simply thinking about my lair or my next meal."

"That makes me feel better," Hoster replied sarcastically. "Though I wonder why that is the case, everyone knows that the Valyrians are unique due to their capabilities to bond with your kind, but why is that the case?"

Seath would shrug if he could. "I have no idea," he admitted. "I think it has to do with some sort of magic in their blood."

"If that is the case then does that mean anyone with Valyrian blood could bond with a dragon? Even a whore down by Lys?"

Seath vaguely knew about Lys and the other nations across the sea. The times she did talk about Essos the books very much passed over the Free Cities, all that Seath knew about them was that they were akin to the Italian city-states – republics and all that, though Seath thought they sounded much more like Venice or Genao, merchant republics.

"You're asking me questions I don't have the answers too," Seath told him. "The people of Dragonstone looked like the Targaryens, silver hair and purple eyes, but the few times I interacted with them I never had a feeling to bond with them; same goes for my sister."

"I see," They were nearing the castle now. Its keep and walls could be seen clearly by him, along with the banners that flew from the towers. A naked woman.

"As for that sister of yours, does she know you even approached us?"

"Nope."

Hoster gaped. "And do you not believe that to be an issue? You described her as being much wilder than you, from what you say she was going to feast on my cousin and his fellow prisoners."

"I'll have a lot of explaining to do, I know. But don't worry about her now we're nearing the castle, I'm going to swoop down low and start calling. Once the castle is awake, I'll land, and you better make your presence known fast because I refuse to be riddled with holes."

"We shouldn't be too late; it should still be well before the hour of the ghost."

I suppose we'll see.

He said thanks to God when he saw that the castle was still very much alive, people dotted the courtyard, and men were up on the battlements. That made it all much easier to get their attention, he wasn't even down to five hundred feet when they started screaming and yelling, bells and horns were being run and blown and much to Seath's shock arrows began to fly.

Shit!

Masterfully he avoided such projectiles and circled the castle a fair distance out of range, this of course made it hard because they needed to land and get the lord out.

"Any ideas? If I land, they'll shoot me and you."

Hoster pondered for a moment. "If you were to swoop low, and I mean low enough for I to jump off your back and land on the battlements that would be ideal."

"Jump of my back?" Seath asked the question like Hoster had lost his mind. "Going at... a lot of miles per hour, you don't what will happen to you, you won't just fall you'll face plant due to the momentum of how fast we're going!"

After a minute Hoster spoke again. "Land on top of the keep."

"The keep? Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Hoster sounded tired. "If my cousin isn't aware of us yet he'll be very aware after we land right on top of him!"

"As you say."

As the men yelled and shot arrows Seath came to a stop over the central keep and with as much care as he could muster landed. His feet came to a thud first, the impact rattling through his body but also through the roof of the structure he landed on, and for just a moment he almost cursed God because he swore he could feel the roof give in on itself. The image of him falling through the roof and landing on top of the lord was a comical one but not one he wished to experience.

"Don't get off yet." he felt the man grip his neck for dear life. Slowly, Seath made his way to the edge of the roof and peaked his head, and looked down below. People were scrambling trying to look for him, then suddenly a window several feet below Seath's head opened up and a woman who looked to be in her thirties peaked her head out. She looked down and shrieked out a demand to the people below demanding to know what was going on, it was only when someone pointed and screamed for her to look up did her face turned as pale as Seath's own scales did she retreat back inside screaming.

Seath craned his head back. "Alright, my lord, you may now get off." The Lord of Raventree Hall obliged and jumped off Seath's neck, thought when he did it had a touch of awkwardness, and when he went to walk around, he stumbled and gave his head a good shake. Seath felt for the man, clearly, most people were not able to handle such flights, so he wondered how a Targaryen would do on their first flight. Most of all, he wondered how the hell someone would feel on their first flight on the back of his father, can't be pleasant that's for sure.

"Start screaming," Hoster looked at him bewildered before taking a look over the edge. He hesitated, no doubt thinking how ridiculous it would look for him to yell like a madman while standing on top of the keep, but there was no other way, Seath was not going to land in the courtyard or even outside the walls and risk getting shot at. He had hoped that this place would be like Raventree, but it seems that the people here were much jumpier for some reason.

Hoster moved to the edge and began to yell as loud as his lungs could carry his voice. "It's Hoster Blackwood! Lord of Raventree Hall, cousin to your lord! Bring your lord outside!"

He yelled for several minutes taking care to miss the occasional arrow or bolt that was shot his way, luckily it seemed that the men were not too accurate with their weapons. Eventually, that same window where the woman had peaked her head out was thrown open once more and this time the head of a man popped out. The man went equally as pale as the lady when Seath showed himself, but unlike the lady, he didn't run and hide, instead he spoke in utter bewilderment.

"Hoster?" he asked. "Is that you, Hoster? What in the Seven Hells are you doing with a dragon?!"

"Tis a long story, coz, a story for another day. For now, I must speak with you regarding that raven that came some days ago."

When the castle had finally calmed down, the two descended from the roof of the keep down to the courtyard. To meet them was a plethora of men at arms and servants who stood there bewildered looking at Seath. He wondered when he would get used to such stares, probably never, dragons were likely as fantastical to them as they would have been to Seath in his old life; relegated to stories and religious sermons.

From the keep emerged a score of people, at the head was that same man who peaked out the window, Devin Piper, Seath assumed. He looked to be younger than Hoster, but not as tall. He had brown hair and a fairly piggish nose; he wore a simple blue tunic and at his hip was displayed a sword from which he gripped tightly. Behind him he could only assume to be his wife and children, who looked to be as old as Jason and Jeyne, all dressed in clothes that made them look as if they had just gone to bed, most likely they just did.

"Hoster," Devin began as he came to a stop before the two, casting a look at the white dragon beside his cousin. "What is this? How? Where did you get a dragon?"

Hoster tried to calm his cousin. "Calm yourself, as I said the dragon is a long story. First of all, his name is Seath, and I would suggest you address him as such because this dragon is no ordinary dragon, coz."

"I would listen to him."

The Lord looked around shocked, clearly looking for the origin of the voice he had just 'heard' but there was no one, Seath spoke to him again.

"It was me, Lord Devin, the dragon. My name is Seath and we have come for help."

Lord Devin looked like a ghost when he realized it was Seath who was talking, he turned towards his cousin and pointed a wobbly finger at the dragon in utter astonishment. "Hoster," he stammered. "The dragon, the dragon can talk, I can hear it in my mind!"

"Indeed, he can," Hoster approached his cousin and stared him deep in the eye. "However, that is not the reason why I came here tonight, I came here seeking aid. Recall that raven?"

Lord Piper shut his eyes and his face contorted into one of silent anguish, he looked pained and suddenly he felt awkward. Seath had decided not to break the link he had connected to the lord, so at present time he could feel every emotion coursing through his psyche, and what he felt made him realize that the Lord of Pinkmaiden would rather be anywhere else than here.

"Hoster," Devin Piper began. "You must forgive me, coz, you know I have nothing but admiration and respect for you, you and your family. I sympathize and empathize with you regarding the current situation you find yourself in, but what you asked of me is something that carries with it a heavy toll."

Lord Piper seemed to shrivel up under the gaze of his cousin and Seath. "Truly, is that all you have to say to me? Your own nephew was taken, Devin, taken to be hanged at the gallows, his body would have been nothing but crows' food. How can you stand there and say what you just said to me after what happened to your nephew, what if they took your daughter?"

Seath saw who he swore to be the lady who peaked her head out that window holding tight a girl who looked to be no older than sixteen, maybe older. The woman was likely the lady of the castle and that girl the lord's daughter.

"Hoster, please," Devin pleaded. "Be reasonable, this is Harren the Black, he earned that name for a reason."

"Aye, he earned it because we allowed him to!"

"Is she alive?" Hoster looked stumped by the question.

"Why does that matter, I would not be here asking for assistance if she were dead."

"Then you have a chance to bring her home. Harren may be an evil soul, but even he is mortal; the man wants a ransom, give him everything you have, it doesn't matter what it costs." He looked towards Seath. "With that thing I'm sure you recoup your loses."

All in the yard tensed up when Seath moved, the soldiers raised their bows and crossbow, swords, and spears when Seath neared Devin Piper. The Lord went for his own sword, but he stammered and hesitated, he then tripped due to him leaning back so much causing a painful scene when his sword stood like a pole as he fell back. Lady Piper, who had her arms wrapped around her daughter, ran forward in a vain attempt to protect her husband.

Brave woman. Seath thought, admiring the woman's courage. More men should have her courage, maybe then Harren would not have had such an easy time ruling the Riverlands.

"Listen to your cousin, he speaks the truth. A bitter truth, but that does not make it any less accurate. You and the other lords of the Riverlands have no one to blame but yourselves for letting Harren walk all over you, you let him take, steal, and pillage whenever and wherever he wants, if he were so feared and powerful why does not pillage and raid into the other kingdoms? I'll tell you why, it's because you let him do all that, that man respects nothing but strength and you have been left wanting, now, a friend of mine has been taken and we're not going to just lay back and let things go.

Think of your ancestors, Devin, those who have fought and bled for the honor and freedom of House Piper. Their spirits yearn for revenge against those who enslaved them, you have an obligation to fight against your oppressor. We have the power to write a new chapter in the annals of all noble houses, a chapter that will resonate through the ages as a testament to your courage and resilience.

This is your best chance, my lord, your best chance! Are you going to squander it and mope like a child on the possibility that it might fail, or are you going to take a chance and try and push for change? It's your choice, my lord, this is your only chance."

As Seath concluded his impassioned speech, a hushed silence filled the air, pregnant with anticipation. Devin's thoughts swirled like a storm within his mind, torn between the weight of responsibility and the call to action. His gaze wandered, fixating on the banners of House Piper waving proudly in the wind, a reminder of the honor and duty that coursed through his veins.

A heavy sigh escaped Devin's lips, betraying the internal struggle he battled within. The weight of his decision hung heavily upon his broad shoulders, as he grappled with the consequences that would follow his choice. His eyes, filled with a mix of contemplation and determination, locked once more with Seath's unwavering stare.

He brought himself to his feet, his tunic now stained with mud. "I have heard your words, dragon," Devin spoke, his voice carrying a blend of solemnity and resolve. "And I cannot deny the truth that lingers within them. The fires of Harren's tyranny have consumed our lands for far too long, and the people cry out for liberation."

The weight of his decision settled upon him, a cloak of responsibility that he wore with stoic grace. His eyes darted across the faces of his loyal kin and trusted advisors, searching for their support, their affirmation.

"The blood of brave Andal kings and warriors flows through my veins," Devin continued, his voice steady and unwavering. "And it is my duty, my solemn oath, to protect our lands and our people. I have seen the suffering, the tears of the oppressed, and I cannot turn my back on them."

He paced around the yard, looking at his men and then at his family before finally bringing his gaze back upon his cousin and Seath. He then looked at his sword and his reflection in the steel, with another sigh he stepped forward towards them placing the sword deep into the ground.

"My nephew was to hang like a common criminal when all he did was voice his opposition to Ironborn cruelty, your brother was murdered for doing the same." He looked up towards Seath, his eyes full of emotion. "It was you," he said. "You saved him, you gave my nephew a chance at life. The gods have been cruel to us these many years, so negligent that the singers and bards have made it a common saying to say that the Seven have been sleeping, but now I believe that they have awakened and that they have graced us with their mercy. The Father is just, and in time his justice comes for all, lowborn and highborn all the same, Harren is no exception."

Hoster smiled. "There is the cousin I know." Devin smiled a sad smile. He beckoned Hoster forward, towards what appeared to be their great hall.

"Come, let us discuss this rebellion then, but in a more private place." Hoster shook his head.

"Alas, coz, but I and Seath have a journey ahead of us. Now that we have your support we head off back north, towards Riverrun, the Vances of Wayfarer, Seaguard, and then the Twins. I tend to meet with them as soon as I can, time is of the essence. Now doubt, once Harren hears of the army we're gathering he'll gather his own in response."

"Five thousand men are stationed at Harrenhal alone, if Harren so pleased he could call for the Captain Generals to gather at his side and he could have a force of near nine thousand... gods help us if he sends raven to the isles..." Devin said.

"If we we're to gather all the riverlords we could have a chance at beating him in the field, Frey alone has four thousand men." Hoster argued.

"I have no doubt, the issue is that Harren could also muster more, from the countryside, a peasant is a peasant, Hoster, and they obey whoever fills their stomach. The lands around Harrenhal are rich and fertile, he could easily raise thousands."

"Conscription rarely works, Lord Devin," Seath said, butting in. "A peasant is a peasant, yes, but they will also have low morale and fighting spirit. Believe it or not, the average person doesn't want to kill someone else, and war is hell, if Harren were to get desperate and conscript he would be filling his army with untrained, unreliable, and unwilling men, men that would flee at first sight of a struggle."

"But Harren is not a sensible man, he built a monstrosity of a castle simply because he wished it. I doubt he would care if the countryside suddenly found itself devoid of men to plow the fields and collect the harvest." Devin replied.

Hoster stepped. "Nonetheless, we won't know till much later what Harren does, for now we must deal with what is our present!"

"And what of your niece, what of Jeyne? If we fight Harren what will he do with her? Are you willing to fight even when he has her in his grasp?"

Hoster looked pained. "Trust me, Devin, I have thought about that long and hard, but if we do nothing more nieces will be taken and held like Jeyne, she is a strong woman we will devise a plan to rescue her."

Devin looked as if he wanted to continue but sighed, he extended his hand to which Hoster received it. The two men then embraced. "I will fight with you, coz. House Piper stands proudly next to House Blackwood, if the gods will it we will stand together for the next thousand years!"

The soldiers cheered, raising their weapons high above their heads.

Hoster retreated from his cousin's embrace and then turned back towards Seath, the dragon without needing to know lowered himself for the Lord of Raventree.

"May the new and old gods bless you, cousin, next we meet will be at Raventree!"

Hoster smiled as he stared down at his cousin, he waved a hand and saluted. A gesture he learned from Seath during their conversation on the way to Pinkmaiden. "I'll be waiting."

Seath reared back and spread open his magnificent golden wings, their span stretching wide, ready to carry them into the night. The people of Pinkmaiden, their faces filled with a mixture of awe and complete amazement.

Seath's powerful wings beat against the air, lifting them higher and higher. The people of Pinkmaiden watched as the Lord of Raventree Hall and the dragon that could seemingly speak rose into the night, a sight that would no doubt be etched in their memories forever.

As the pair rose high and turned north, following the distant Red Fork back north, Seath presented a question the man seated on his neck. "Where to now?"

"First Riverrun, then we go east to Wayfarer, then north to Seaguard, and then further north to the Twins!"

Seath huffed. "This is going to be a long fucking night, isn't it?" The old lord laughed.

"Indeed, Seath, indeed. But this one sleepless night will win use many years of sleep filled nights."

"You're right there... if I start to fall sleep give me a good slap, alright?"

He laughed. "Believe me, Seath, I'll do more than give you a slap if you doze off on me this high up."

Onwards they flew.

Spoiler: A/N

Last edited: May 24, 2023

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Threadmarks Chapter 13

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Beebos

Bless King Maegor

Jun 5, 2023

#518

Riverrun proved to be much more hospitable and friendly than either Pinkmaiden or Wayfarer, on account of the garrison not shooting a thousand projectiles at me. I thanked God on account of that, after hours of flying with a man who weighed an easy two hundred pounds on the crook of my neck, that last I wanted to do was do last-minute maneuvers, while I don't like to think about it, had they shot a couple of bolts or arrows my way I may have taken a good hit on either my wings or body. When the seat of House Tully, which is what Hoster told me, came into view my first thought was that it was a good-looking castle, in the old world, castles were often small and very practical, but here I have noticed that castles end up being massive but also practical at the same time.

Another thing I wondered about was how these massive structures and their garrisons fed themselves. Riverrun had to be twice maybe even thrice the size of Bodiam Castle, when I saw it back then I had thought it big, but Riverrun proved me wrong, so did Raventree, and I can't even fathom Harrenhal, which according to Hoster, is still under construction and has been for the past forty years! If his description of its towers is correct, then Westeros is home to megaliths that would put pre-19th-century architecture to shame with its height and size.

After landing in the castle's courtyard, we were met by jumpy soldiers who aimed their weapons squarely at me and servants who peeked out from wherever they could hide, whether it was doorways or beams. The most precious ones were the children who looked at me with complete awe and amazement, there was a particular girl who dared leave the safety of her wooden beam and come with the boundary of the courtyard even when who I would guess would be her mother was calling for her to come back, I gave a slight node and waved my tail at her. Children... whenever I see them, I feel like I want to sweep them into my 'arms', did I have children in my past life, is that why I feel like that?

We did not have to wait long for the lord of the castle to make his appearance, dressed in a simple robe of faded grey and blue he came rushing out with two other men also dressed in robes that showed that they had been awoken suddenly. All three of the men looked quite similar, they had blue eyes and auburn hair, another trend I was noticing among the nobility of Westers was how freaky their genetics were. Targaryens and their white hair and purple eyes, Durrandons with their black hair and blue eyes, Starks, Lannisters, and Arryns, now Tullys with their red-haired lords.

Someone took the fantasy meter and jammed that thing up to a thousand because, from everything I've learned about this place, this entire world is one hell of a place. A literal fantasy world with bloodlines stretching longer than recorded history and families with genes so strong that even centuries of inbreeding can't break. Wait, why am I thinking of that now? Focus!

Edwyn Tully seemed like a good man, he seemed kind and generous. Since we were not here to mince words, we laid out our business bare, and I think Edwyn was not fully prepared to handle what we had told him.

"Rebellion," he said, almost afraid of the word he just uttered. "I have no love for that man, no true Riverlander does, but I fear him. He will not hesitate to grind us to dust should we rise against him..."

"Indeed," confirmed Hoster, tired. "That is the greatest advantage he has over us, our fear. It is our fear that has kept him in power for so long, we could have rallied ages ago and thrown off that man's yoke, yet we never did because we were afraid."

It had taken time to convince Edwyn of our motives and whether we could win against Harren, Hoster was a beacon of hope and conviction, his will was resolute. I was also sure in our victory, I had to be. The odds were daunting, and rebellions were always uphill battles, but the first crucial step to any sort of success is the mindset, I remember driving for the first time, the nerves that coursed through my body and threatened to overwhelm me; that first drive off the lot, but I overcame, we will do the same here.

Reluctantly, and with persuasion from me, Edwyn was won over. The factors of having won Vance, Piper, and having two dragons on one's side cannot be understated, had we come here without Piper and Vance's guarantees Tully would have been far harder to win over, maybe we would have even failed. Tully, unlike Vance and Piper, has no blood ties to the Blackwoods, and in this world blood was everything, it was just a smidge easier to convince your cousin to ride or die than a peer, even if that peer had everything to gain from our plan and if we were to win.

Hunger had long since begun to set in, I felt as if a snake was coiling in my stomach, the same with Hoster. Edwyn was kind enough to have a quick meal prepared, Hoster feasted on steak, meanwhile, a whole cured deer carcass was dragged from wherever they had it stored.

"Be my guest, Ser Dragon," Edwyn said, motioning towards the carcass. "I would be honored to feed a scion of Old Valyria."

Edwyn took to my telepathy much better than Piper or Vance. Sure, he was shocked when I first spoke to him, but he adjusted and soon he simply accepted it as fact and was not bothered at all by my intrusion in his mind. I see flashes of a field of flowers, of a laughing girl, of two people making love, as well as the cries of a newborn babe.

I'm seeing his memories, good lord, what is going on? I'm not even trying to dive into his brain.

If I could see Tully's memories, does that mean that other dragons can as well? If that's the case, then why isn't Balerion aware of what happened to Valyria? Why wasn't Mother aware of the plan to capture me and Wraith, or was she? So many questions, I can only think that the other dragons must not care about what goes on in the brains of people, or they aren't able to properly read minds and use our telepathy to its fullest extent, they have the natural instinctual method of using it down, but not the part where it takes effort.

That is a question for another day, a better day, not today.

"I look forward to seeing you two again, hopefully by then it will be in victory," said Tully, Hoster also said a farewell, but also embraced him. While I could not embrace him, I extended my tail in a mock handshake.

"Shake it," I told him, he gave me a look but reluctantly shook my tail which was as large as his hand, larger in fact. "A handshake I call it, I will not bow to you because you are not my lord, nor am I your subject, but I am not unpolite and without manners, Lord Edwyn."

Tully smiled. "Never in all my years did I think my nannies of a talking dragon would come true, yet here you stand. Thank you, truly, for helping us in this time. I swear I will not forget it."

With those words, we departed Riverrun and began to head toward Seagard.

"Mallister will be vital in our war," Hoster informed me. "Seagard was constructed to defend against Ironborn raids, if there's anyone we need to beat Harren and keep an eye on the sea it's the Mallisters."

"This Donnel Mallister, tell me about him."

"Donnel is an old friend, my oldest friend even. He and I grew up together under Lord Walton Frey's roof, if there's anyone who will come to our aid most, it will be him."

"I mean what type of man is he? His character?"

Hoster thought for a second before answering. "Well," he hesitated. "I would not like to portray him as something he isn't, but if I were to paint a portrait of the man, I would say that he is a good and kind man to his friends, but a harsh and fierce man to his enemies. He has often had to suffer Ironborn on his lands and raids on his shores."

Oh?

"Ironborn raids? Do you mean from the islands? I don't understand, why is Harren's kingdom so violent damn near autonomies, do his vassals just act like there is no high authority?"

"So long as his lords pay him taxes and do as he says Harren could care less what we do to each other, we riverlords have it worst of all though, we're damn near slaves. The Riverlands has always been a breadbasket, we have been the battleground for all the other kingdoms, from the Rock in the west to Winterfell in the north, all desire us. I have no doubt that once we remove Harren another will be hot on his heels, I already have a good idea who."

The wind picked up, and in the distance, the sky began to gain the faint outline of a cool blue, dawn was now on the horizon. I didn't realize we had been flying for so many hours, they tended to simply mesh together until there was no sense of time left. My muscles were aching, and my neck was on fire, but I ignored the pain and focused all my attention on the present and the future, with those thoughts the pain began to fade.

"You're talking about the Storm King, huh? Argilac is his name, right?"

Hoster made a growling sound. "Aye, Argilac the Arrogant, he's had his eyes on the Riverlands and Middle Kingdoms for years, since he was but a prince. His forebearers once ruled all the way up to the Twins for hundreds of years, but it all came crumbling down when Harwyn Hoare came."

"How did they lose all this? Let me guess, misrule?"

"That is only a piece of what truly occurred in those days," he explained. "The Storm Kings were not the harshest of rulers, but they were negligent and brutal, not as harsh as Harren or his ilk but still. What truly spelled the end of Durrandon rule was that Harwyn promised many lords liberation, so did Arrec, but Harwyn was the devil we did not know, my ancestor, Agnes Blackwood, tried to stop Harwyn but was betrayed by the Brackens who attacked behind."

"These Brackens hate you and your family, huh? What's with them, why do they hate you?"

Hoster shrugged his shoulders. "It's an old tale, Seath. One that could take hours to explain at length, no one really knows the truth of where our blood feud started, but the Brackens claim us to be usurpers who stole their crown."

"And your side of the story?" I inquired. "There's always two sides to the story, I want to know where House Blackwood stands on the origin of the feud."

Hoster was hesitant to tell me, but eventually, he did. "They were naught but petty lords, horse breeders who we were gracious enough to give patronage to, to show their gratitude they hired sellswords and usurped us. Ever since then, they have mouthed off to anyone who has ears that we are the usurpers and not they, it's a feud that has gone on since before the Andals came to Westeros."

While Hoster went and explained in detail his family's feud, all I could do was groan and sigh. So I guess Jeyne wasn't lying then... ugggh, my God, great, now I'm entangled with the fucking Hatfields and McCoys of Westeros. These two families have been at each other's throats for centuries if not millennia, and now I'm involved, now one of the sides has a dragon ally meaning that the other side will panic and look for a possible ally, and for Bracken that might Harren... I might have to talk with the Brackens at some point and assure them that I have no stake in their little fight.

After heading northwest for what seemed like an hour or more, we finally came within sight of the coast, with that I adjusted my course and now fly directly along it, we should hit Seagard in time. Flying along the coast and seeing the Sunset Seat I'm hit with a great sense of nostalgia, not from my time on Dragonstone, even though I am not beginning to miss the island, but of my time as a human and when I lived along the Bay Area of California. The coast reminds me of the long and seemingly endless coast of my former home and of driving along it till I reached San Fransisco, flashes of a laughing family threaten to water my eyes and cause tears to fall, I blink them away and beat my wings harder, flying higher and increasing my speed, now is not the time for nostalgia.

Slowly signs of civilization became apparent, and small hamlets and homesteads began to dot the small dirt road along the coast, now and then I would see a rider or people on wagons. At last, in the distance the outline of a castle that looked to be built on several cliffs and rocky promontories, the city looked far different from Dragonsport, once I think I have finally found a civilized city, after so long in the wilderness it felt nice to see order and a thriving settlement. Rows of well-maintained, two-story stone houses line the streets, their peaked roofs adding a touch of elegance to the cityscape. The streets themselves are wide and paved, allowing for smooth traffic flow and the passage of carriages and pedestrians.

At the heart of the city lies the bustling marketplace. Stalls and shops are neatly arranged, offering a variety of goods and services to the citizens of Seagard. The marketplace is a hive of activity, with merchants hawking their wares, shoppers inspecting goods, and the sound of friendly bartering filling the air, and nestled some distance from the city center was a great beautiful Sept, the white marble from which it was constructed seemed to glow as if a beacon in the darkness.

As I circled the city the great and thunderous sound of bells tolling began, down below I could see people start to either come out onto the streets and rush off in every direction while some poked their heads out their windows. Eventually, after a roar, they all looked up and stood in momentary awe as they beheld the sight above them, I then turned my attention to the castle and circled till the garrison and castle's residence were wide away. Lord Donnel looked as old as Hoster, he even bore the harsh leathery skin and the same hard features, it still shocks me to know that Hoster is only in his forties, but I suppose that leadership ages anybody, after all, wasn't it a fact that presidents after leaving office look like they've aged a decade or so?

Like every castle and resident before, the people and the Mallister family were in complete awe of me, something I didn't complain about because it honestly boosts my ego, their faces are one of a kind and are like shots of dopamine into my veins. The rest of the Mallister family seemed similar to the other families, the lord's children looked to be in their twenties, to early teens, and his wife was likely in her late thirties with an aged beauty that reminded me of several women I've had the pleasure of meeting in times long past. Hoster and Donnel embraced as friends, true friends, and there was nothing but comradery between them.

"Harren has been a blight on us for decades, since we were but children," Donnel said. "Truth be told, I have always looked for a situation where I could raise my banners and cast that rat back into the sea, but I am but one lord against the might of the Ironborn. I spent much time reaching out to so many, but everyone was the same, no one was eager to meet Harren's wrath."

"No one was, you're right, I was the same," Hoster admitted. "The Ironborn molest us and our smallfolk like they're playing a game, and when they find a reason to be offended, they take it, now imagine what they could behave like if they have cause to rampage. I will die before I see Raventree burn, and the great weirwood, no doubt you would be the same."

"You know my answer to this old friend," Donnel said, placing a hand on Hoster's arm. "We grew up together and while we are not family by blood you know I've always considered you a brother," the two from there discussed strategy, Donnel then turned and looked at me. "And you, Ser Dragon," he said to me, "It is an honor to speak with you and meet you, there were whispers here and there of two flying creatures that stalked the Red Fork, but to know that you are an intelligent creature fills me with relief and joy, with you we have an even greater chance to defeat Harren."

"Rest assured, I will do my part and fight alongside you and your men, Lord Donnel. Harren may rule the seas, and for now the land, but he does not rule the sky. I look forward to seeing you on the battlefield."

As we prepared to take our leave, I was introduced to several members of the Mallister family, it was strange and somewhat awkward to be sure, Piper, Vance, and Tully had not been as willing to form their children up in lines for me, but Lord Donnel was more than welcoming. What pleased though was that the family members I met bowed or dipped into a curtsy for me, considering that such shows of respect were reserved for royalty, or the clergy makes me smile even more, I stand up straight and raise my head facing the air trying to look as regal and formal as I can.

Denys was the oldest boy, twenty-four years old with a wife and child, with another on the way. His wife, Alayne Paege is a pretty little thing, with brown hair and eyes, a small mouth, and an oval face she looks as innocent and cute as a newborn deer. The girl, who wore a robe over her nightgown, looked at me with awe as did the others.

"Thank you..." She seemed lost, she looked back at her husband who shrugged, and then at her father-in-law who urged her on. "Thank you, Lord Seath for helping us in this dire hour, truly."

"Of course, I have as much stake in this fight as anyone... well, maybe not as much as stake as all of you, but still. Rest assured I will do what I can."

Hearing my voice in her head spooked her, but she breathed and smiled at me. The next family members were Jason, Lydia, and Liane, all ranging from twenty-two to sixteen, all gracious and very interested in me, at this point it was not lost on me that they were beginning to refer to me with official titles and not just as 'the dragon' or 'Ser,' but as 'Lord Seath"

I could get used to that.

There was one person that I noticed who was not too pleased with my presence. He stood away from everyone, dressed in white with what looked to be a seven-pointed star hanging from his neck, he frowned deeply and held a fury in his gaze that made him look ten times bigger than he was. It was easy to slip into his head, very quickly I figured that he was a Septon, a priest, not one of mine but he preached the tenets of the Faith of the Seven.

It wouldn't have meant much to me who he was, his god was not my God, but I had no care for what he preached, I was not someone to proselytize or evangelize, whatever God's plan was for this world was his own, but then I realized something that I should have kept in mind. The Faith of the Seven is the religion of the Andals, the religion of refugees that fled the Freehold and her dragons, the man scowling at me is part of a religion that likely has entire books or stories that rail against me and my kind. I can already predict that the religious establishment of Westeros may not like me then.

We did not linger long after that, thankfully. Before long, Seagard seemed like a distant memory, a sweet memory. The land beneath shifted from fields and hills to that of dense forest, while flying over it I brought up my thoughts to Hoster.

"The Septon," he questioned me. "Are you sure he was frowning, or was he just being a Septon? When I was boy, even though Lord Walton was a religious man who often feasted the clergy and curried favor with the Faith Militant I was give privilege to forgo a Faithful education, my gods are the Old Gods, but every Septon I've met looked like they were just kicked in the gut by a mule."

"Well, I don't know, all I know is that he was very angry at my presence. I looked into his mind and felt his emotions, his thoughts were also quite nasty. That is why I wanted to leave soon after that, forgive me for interrupting that long overdue reunion, six years you said?"

"Do not fret, we often talk through raven," he said. "I know very little of the Faith and of its teachings, I have no idea what they preach, only the very basic you see, they hate usury and despise demon worship, what they think of Valyria and dragons I have nothing to say."

…

The Twins had to be the most stunning and impressive piece of architecture I have ever seen, besides Dragonstone of course, that castle looks like it was molded from a single piece of stone and looks like an orgy of dragons. When I first beheld the sight of the two squat, ugly, but formidable towers, I had thought it to be nothing but two watchtowers, but in truth, the Twins were so much more than I could have ever thought, these were full-blown castles with hundreds of rooms and dozens of chambers, they had high and thick walls along with every type of projectile known to man. This castle was in my opinion impregnable, how would one even go about taking this place by force?

You would need dragons or cannons.

Then I remembered Jeyne talking about the Eyrie, the fact that someone would even build a castle on a mountain edge is insane to me. There was also Casterly Rock, which is said to be taller than the Hightower or Wall. Harrenhal, The Rock, The Eyrie, Storms End, Winterfell, my mind goes into freefall, how can there be so many megaliths built in this period where such things should not be feasible, not by a long shot.

Westeros has to be massive, bigger than Europe for sure, but as big as Asia? That's questionable, may be as big as the Americas or at least one section of the Americas, but even then, no place should be able to sustain such massive structures, truly puts fantasy if there ever was one, even Middle Earth has normal proportions, well, except for places like Gondolin, Orthanc, and Minas Tirith. There I sat waiting in the courtyard of the east courtyard surrounded by potential threats left and right, all with focused and hard eyes, but their minds told me another story.

They're afraid.

When we landed, we were greeted by Lord Walton's heir, his grandson, and Steward of the Twins, since his lord grandfather was so hold and frail, he was unable to come out and meet us personally, due to that Hoster had to go in and talk with him while I was waited outside, not that I was too picky about it. While the moon was still very visible in the sky the darkness had receded and it was now sunrise, groups of clouds made their way across the sky and the crisp morning air had made its way south upon them, the wind crawled along my skin and brought me an uncomfortable feeling. It seems even here, even though I am a living furnace I still can't stand the cold, fortunately for me the sun brings me more than enough warmth.

From the castle emerged the Steward of the Twins, Wallen Frey, if I can properly recall his name. The man looked to be of an age with Hoster, and stood just a few inches smaller than him, nonetheless, he professionally carried himself and dressed in very fine clothes, a blue tunic with white embroidery. Behind him were more than a dozen knights and other people, he had come to introduce himself properly and introduce some enthusiastic family members.

"My grandfather and Hoster will be finishing their talk soon enough," he relayed to me in a soft and somewhat high voice. "I pray that your journey was fair and devoid of trouble, Raventree is quite a distance from here."

Wallen's head was perhaps the most interesting mind I've had the pleasure of exploring. As I tried to delve deeper, I found myself entering a maze of endless halls and passages, it became apparent to me that Wallen Frey was a very intelligent man, smarter than most.

"It was an alright trip, thank you for asking," Wallen did not smile but simply gave me a dip of the head, he then turned and ordered one of the knights to bring some food.

"I imagine you must be hungry, my lord Seath, we have many animals at the Twins, would I fattest sow please you?"

I smiled at that.

While members of House Frey took their turns introducing themselves to me, I enjoyed the fine delicacy that was a fine fat sow and her brother a pig threatening to burst. The Twins seemed like a comfortable place and before I knew it my eyelids were growing heavy as was my head, I started to feel lethargic and wished to fall asleep. My only saving grace was the conversations that the Frey's had struck up with me, though they did seem to notice my fatigue, which caused me slight embarrassment.

"If my lord wishes it, I will leave him to rest?" Wallen asked politely.

"No," I said. "Forgive me, it's been a very long night, but I have endured longer and worse nights, we will soon depart anyways."

That was what I thought would happen until Hoster emerged and told me that we would rest at the Twins for a few hours, I argued against it, the sooner we were back at Raventree the better, but he insisted. I could have left without him, but if I were to leave it would take weeks for him to return, I groaned at the decision, then again it would be best for us to rest and get some sleep, I would not like to fall out of the sky. Wallen, his uncles and aunts, his siblings, and his children excused themselves and left me to find a nice corner of the courtyard to lay my head down, as soon as I closed my eyes the world faded to darkness and sleep took me.

When we had rested and prepared to leave Lord Walton Frey was wheeled out on the makeshift wheelchair of his, pushed by his granddaughter, Amerai. The old man was covered in furs from head to toe, thick furs which bore the twin towers of his home, he looked very much like his grandson, their most distinct feature had to be their blue or grey eyes, the old lord was balding, and he fashioned a beard as white as snow. When he spoke, his voice was grave and harsh like he had gone hours without a drink of water.

"Ah," he said like he had fulfilled a long-desired task. "I lay my eyes upon the creature that brought the known world to heel," he settled nicely in his chair while I kept my eyes on him.

"I take that to be a compliment?"

The old man cackled, which in turn caused him to cough. "Take it as you will," he said. "I am old, far too old, but even I was a boy once. When I was young Valyria was still in living memory, I once talked with men who had the fortune of travelling to the east and seeing the Free Cities when dragons flew above them, when the peninsular was still whole. The maesters say that the Doom consumed Valyria and all her works, but they are wrong, it was time that did that, Valyria did not fade till the last man who laid eyes on her died."

That was... surprisingly profound.

"I pray that I live up to your expectations then?"

He laughed once more. "I would say so. My septon will say that you are naught but demons, the maesters say you are creatures of the natural world. Until today, I had no knowledge of a talking dragon, so let me ask you. What are you?"

"I... I am. My name is Seath, address me how you like. Am I an animal? Well... aren't we all? I believe that our souls are immortal and that we will one day leave this mortal plain and be met by our creators who will judge us, this world of ours is a test..."

"From animals? Tis not every day that I meet a talking dragon who holds a religion and alleges that we descend from animals, Septon Uriel will loath you very much, I'm sure of that. In the Seven-Pointed Star, it is said that Man was made in the image of the Father and Mother Above, that is my belief. Nevertheless, your religion intrigues me, pray tell, is your god known to me, is he one of those gods the dragonlords worshipped?"

"No, Lord Walton, you do not know him, but he knows you."

The old was somewhat disturbed by my reference to people being evolved apes, but I did not linger on that topic and Hoster soon took over. The two men bid each other heartfelt farewells, Walton embracing Hoster like a son, Wallen bid us farewell as did the rest of the Frey family, and the old lord assured us that he would rally his four-thousand men as soon as he could and send them south to our aid. I bid the lord pleasantries before taking off into the air as quickly as I could, it was near noon, and as we made the journey back we were in high spirits, after all that traveling, we return with all objectives complete.

I am somewhat shocked at how easy it was to convince the lords to help, in all honesty, I had expected massive favors or concessions to be dealt, especially with the known blood relations like Tully and Mallister, but there was none; for now. Jeyne was half Frey at least, her children who would one day inherit Raventree were a quarter Frey, the Pipers were cousins, and the current Blackwood generation had Vance blood. The tedious part was over, now we had to deal with the hard part, winning this war.

…

After leaving Hoster at Raventree I was throbbing and aching, the long flight had left my body in tatters, like a glass that had been struck a hundred times by a hammer. As I rolled my neck and stretched, I could feel the sweet and euphoric feeling of soreness, I desired nothing more than to return to the quiet isle and rest for a whole day under the weirwood tree that brought me so much peace, but I knew I could not. I had one last piece of business to attend to, to explain to Wraith the absolute mess I have gotten myself into and hope to convince her to help, one dragon may not turn the tide of war, but hopefully, two could.

When I arrived at the quiet isle they were not there, aside from markings on the ground which showed that they had slept there, and droppings. There was also something very strange about the area, the smell. I knew Wraith's scent like the back of my wing, just as I knew the smells of the other dragons, but the scent that I whiffed was any dragon that I knew, it was similar but there was a very distinct difference.

"Lady Wraith?" Jessica questioned. "I believe she flew east; I saw her fly off once the sun had risen," that was my clue, east. I scanned the ground and the sky and yet I could not find her, she was likely on the ground hunting through the dense woods, or in one of the rivers catching fish, the scent hit me like a brick wall again, it was overwhelming.

Something stirred in me, something very dangerous. I could feel my spines begin to tingle and vibrate, my neck grew prickly like I was being jammed by a thousand needles at once, and for some reason, I was growing angry, too angry.

What is wrong with me?

Against my better judgment, I turned and followed the scent.

It took me farther than I would have thought to look, at last, the scent became strongest when I flew over a completely unassuming wooded area, nothing about it stood out apart from the fact that there appeared to be a cave entrance of some kind. Flying down I touched down and began to comb the area, I found a trail of blood that had begun to dry, and I found the discarded horn of what looked to be an aurochs. I felt eyes on me, I turned and looked towards the cave entrance, my heart froze.

Staring from the darkness were two green eyes, it was Wraith, but it wasn't, my nose was telling me something else. The scent was coming from them, but that was Wraith, it had to be, no way a wild dragon was living here, we would have come across it.

I called out to them, hesitantly. "Wraith," I called out. "Sister?"

They peeked their head out of the cave and revealed the face of the dragon I had spent my entire life with, they were Wraith, but there were distinct differences that I could make out. This dragon looked to be scalier, with more spines and slightly bigger horns, they were also bigger than me, and more than anything made me nervous.

Then, as they stepped out from the cave and came out fully into the light everything changed, like a switch. Suddenly, the scent that was emanating from them changed and turned to the scent I was familiar with, their appearance shifted slowly, so seamlessly that I thought my own eyes were playing tricks on me, their demeanor changed as well, and before I knew it my sister was back to her old self. That change sent shivers up my spine.

What the hell was that? How did she just change so suddenly, like a chameleon changing color.

"Where have you been?" she asked, her voice filled with a mixture of concern and frustration. "I tried tracking you, but I was led to the human nest with the giant tree, like the one at our nest."

I took a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts. "It's a long story," I began, my voice tinged with weariness. "But what you need to know is that Jeyne has been taken by an enemy. They want me to submit to them, or else they'll harm her. I have to save her, Wraith, I have to find a way."

She narrowed her eyes, a mix of emotions flickering across her face. "Your enemy, not mine," she said, her tone guarded.

Surprised by her response, I reached out to her. "Wraith, please understand. I never wanted any of this to happen. But we can't turn away from the challenges before us. Jeyne is in danger, and if we don't act, she might be lost forever."

Her expression hardened, and she turned away from me. "You're right. You knew the risks when you involved yourself with humans, but I didn't warn you because I wanted you to learn on your own. I don't trust those enemies, the ones with their strange symbols and alliances. But now, it's your fight."

My heart sank at her words, feeling a deep sense of disappointment. "Wraith, I thought you would understand. I thought you would want to help me, to fight alongside me?"

She sighed heavily, weariness evident in her voice. "I'm tired, tired of the humans and their games. I want to go back home, to our nest, to be with Mother. I don't want to involve myself in their fights anymore. Let them destroy each other. You've forgotten what you are, what we are. Dragons. Our loyalty should be to our kind, and to each other."

"But Wraith," I interjected, my voice filled with pleading. "You're my sister, my family. I care for you, I protect you, and everything I've done has been for both of us. How can you say I've neglected you?"

She growled in frustration, her frustration simmering beneath the surface. "You left without telling me, without telling me where you were going. You left me behind, alone and in the dark. I thought we were meant to face the world together."

"I didn't want to burden you," I explained earnestly. "I needed to speak with the humans, to find a way to save Jeyne. It was a matter of urgency. I never intended to leave you behind."

Wraith's roar echoed through the air, causing me to take a step back. Her voice held a mix of anger and hurt. "Enough about that creature!" she exclaimed. "You promised you would never leave me, yet you abandoned me for her. You spent all your days with her, neglecting me, your own blood!"

Stricken by her accusations, I tried to reason with her. "Wraith, that's not true. I care for Jeyne, but you hold a special place in my heart. You are irreplaceable to me."

Her eyes blazed with fury as she lashed out at me. "You love her more than you love me! Admit it! What does she offer that I cannot? Have I not proven myself worthy of your affection? Am I not the best hunter, the fiercest fighter, the most devoted caretaker? Am I not worthy of being your mate so far?!"

Taken aback by her words, my stomach sank. "Wraith, stop," I pleaded, my voice filled with pain. "We are siblings. What you're suggesting is wrong, it can never happen."

She spat in anger, creating a gust of wind and debris as she took to the sky. Her cry of anguish echoed through the earth and sky, and without hesitation, I followed.

"Wraith, wait! Please, don't go," I pleaded, my words carried on the wind. "I never meant to hurt you, to make you feel abandoned. You are my sister, my kin, and no human could ever replace the bond we share."

She continued to fly ahead, her wings cutting through the air with a mix of rage and sorrow. But I refused to let her slip away, determined to bridge the gap that had formed between us. I pushed myself harder, pushing my limits to reach her side.

Finally, I caught up to her, matching her pace in the sky. Our eyes met, and I could see the pain and confusion etched in her features. With every breath, I poured my emotions into my words, hoping that they would reach her wounded heart.

"Wraith, listen to me," I implored, my voice filled with earnestness. "I admit that I may have made mistakes, but my love for you has never wavered. Jeyne is my friend, yes, but you are my family. You hold a place in my heart that no one else can fill."

She faltered in her flight, her anger giving way to a mixture of uncertainty and vulnerability. Her wings slowed as she considered my words, the turmoil within her eyes mirroring the storm brewing within me, she then spoke.

"Then love me," she said. "Take me as yours!"

No! Please God give me strength.

"Wraith," I whispered, my voice quivering with a mixture of desperation and anguish. "You know I can't do that, there are boundaries that bind us. We cannot tread a path so dangerous, so forbidden. Our bond is sacred, but it is that of siblings, not mates."

Her gaze bore into mine, her eyes pleading for a love I couldn't give in the way she desired. I reached out telepathically, we mingled and came together, hoping to convey my love and devotion through feeling alone.

"I cannot fulfill what you want," I declared, my voice choked with sorrow. "To do so would betray everything I know to be right. I cannot cross that line that you want destroyed, it would dirty me."

Tears welled in her eyes, reflecting the pain of love unrequited. I could feel her heartache reverberating through the air, mirroring the ache within my chest. Each word I spoke felt like a dagger piercing our connection, testing the strength of our bond.

"I care for you deeply, Wraith," I murmured, my voice filled with a tenderness that bordered on desperation. "But I cannot give you what you seek, hate me if you want but I still love you the right way, the only way."

She shook her head sadly and closed her eyes, laced with tears that dried as quickly as they became drenched, she said not one word as she continued flying, and no matter what I tried to say she refused to answer me. Slowly I gave in and allowed her to escape me, within minutes she was so far that she was naught but a blot against the skyline, with a sad sigh he turned around and flew back to the quiet isle, turning around I said farewell to the person I loved so dearly.

…

The next week came and went quickly, the remaining Blackwood forces that had yet to gather at Raventree had arrived by the end of the week. From my vantage point atop a hill, I watched as they arrived, their numbers growing steadily. It was a sight that filled me with a mix of anticipation and pride.

I knew that time was of the essence, and I suggested to Hoster that the soldiers should be trained and conditioned for the battles that lay ahead. The journey would be long and treacherous, and their readiness was paramount to our success.

Each day, I would glide over the training grounds, my wings creating a powerful gust of wind that stirred the dust beneath. The sound of swords clashing and shields striking echoed through the air as the soldiers honed their combat skills. I observed their progress with a watchful eye, knowing that discipline and unity were key to our victory.

As I made my rounds, my piercing gaze would meet the soldiers' eyes, urging them to push beyond their limits. They could feel the weight of my presence, a reminder of the great cause we fought for. My presence alone motivated them to give their all, and to strive for excellence in their training.

As I patrolled the area, my eyes scanning the horizon in search of any sign of Wraith's return, a column of soldiers caught my attention. Anticipation mingled with caution as I prepared myself for a potential battle.

However, a sigh of relief escaped my lips when I caught sight of the white banners adorned with a green willow. Lord Jared, marched at the head of his men. I couldn't help but smile, knowing that reinforcements had arrived. Still, I reminded myself that there was no time for games or revelry. Our objective was far too important.

The thirteen hundred Ryger men seamlessly integrated into our drills and training exercises. Their presence bolstered our numbers, adding strength to our ranks. I observed their discipline and eagerness, appreciating the unity that our alliance represented.

With our forces steadily growing in size, I took to the skies to visit the camps of our allied houses. First, I made my way to House Piper, House Vance, and House Tully. The levies they had mustered were impressive, and preparations for their departure were underway. The sense of purpose and determination within their ranks was palpable.

Next, I flew towards the camps of House Mallister and House Frey. Their larger armies required more time to mobilize and coordinate, but progress was being made. I ensured that their preparations were on track, offering my silent support and encouragement. The road ahead might be long, but we were inching closer to our shared goal.

Yet, amidst the overall progress, there was one concern that weighed heavily on my mind, House Bracken. Hoster had refused my suggestion for outreach towards them, he feared that Bracken would follow in the footsteps of his ancestor and stab us in the back, I can't say he is wrong in that assumption, there is precedent. Nevertheless, I suggested that watchtowers be placed alongside the narrow crossing of the Red Fork to watch for any potential Bracken crossings, If history was to repeat I will not be caught off guard.

The moon cast a gentle glow upon the tranquil clearing where I found respite. Exhaustion clung to my weary limbs, and the weight of responsibility settled upon my heart. It was in this quiet solitude that I sought solace, a momentary reprieve from the relentless march toward war.

Seated upon a moss-covered rock, I took in the serene surroundings, the whispering of leaves and the symphony of nocturnal creatures providing a comforting backdrop. And then, as if summoned by the night itself, Jessica approached, her presence a welcome interruption to my thoughts.

She settled beside me, her eyes reflecting the soft moonlight. A calmness emanated from her, a sense of understanding that transcended words. We sat in silence for a while, the quiet companionship easing the burdens that weighed upon my shoulders.

Breaking the stillness, Jessica spoke with a gentle voice, her words carrying a mix of curiosity and concern. "Lord Seath, I hope you know that I am here for you whenever you desire of me, whatever it may be. It pains me to think that you suffer alone, especially as war draws ever closer."

A sigh escaped my lips, carrying the weight of my thoughts. I turned my gaze toward Jessica, grateful for her presence and her willingness to listen. "It's Wraith... she desires something that I cannot give her ever. She wants us to be closer than siblings, she wants us to be mates."

As I spoke, memories of Wraith's anguish resurfaced, her voice filled with accusation and pain. I continued, my voice laced with a touch of sorrow. "She believes that I have neglected her, abandoned her for the sake of another. Wraith sees my friendship with Jeyne as a betrayal, a rejection of her."

Jessica's eyes held a mix of empathy and curiosity. "But Wraith is your sister. How could she harbor such feelings?"

A wistful smile touched my lips as I pondered the complexity of our bond. "Indeed, she is my sister. And yet, even siblings can stumble into depths that should never be explored. I knew years ago that it would come to this, I knew that I should have been more careful with our relationship. A part of me wanted to leave her before such feelings developed, yet here we are. I suppose I should have known it would to be, we are limited in our numbers and there are only so many potential partners."

"While I am not a dragon, nor can fathom the mind of one, I am a woman. I once was in love as well, with a man who loved my cousin, how I burned with jealousy," she detailed. "I can empathize with her in a way, even if she is your blood, she loves you, and trust me when I say that her desire for your love will not go away, it will only burn below the surface for as long as you live."

"But it's not right," I stated. "It's..." The words escape me, but Jessica found her own and interrupted me.

"One day, many years ago, when my mother still lived, gods give her rest. A lady and her young daughter came to us, the young girl was heavy with child, and the poor girl was barely three and ten. The mother wished for us to deliver the babe when the time came, my mother was confused, we were not midwives, she could go to the local seer or even into the next town over to see the healers, but why us? She refused to answer us simply asking if we would help her, in turn, she would repay us with several goats and even a cow, who were we to refuse?

Mother had seen many terrible things in her own time and was not one to question such good pay, so she accepted. A fortnight later they returned, the young girl was pale and weak, we did what we could, but she was dead before the babe could even breathe their first breath. Mother was able to save the babe by cutting open the mother, seeing a person cut open was horrific but when I saw the child I nearly fainted.

It was twisted, bent, and massive. One arm was larger than the other, it was missing an eye, and worst of all, a part of its brain was exposed, its skull had not yet been formed, only when we demanded to know why the mother had not when to the healers did she reveal why, the girl's brother had raped her and begotten her with child. The babe was an abomination of incest, we did what we could to save the babe, but he was weak and died within hours, we gave him a proper funeral and buried him beneath the Weirwood you sleep beneath so that he could be with the gods."

I listened intently. "What a sad story, but why did you tell it to me?"

She looked at me. "Well, one day we purchased several mutts to watch over us, to keep away the wolves. One was named Barbas while the other was named Rose, they were siblings. One day we came upon Barbas fucking his sister, he spilled his seed within her, months later, Rose birthed a litter of six pups." She kept her gaze on me. "Not single was deformed or twisted, they grew up to be healthy, Rose produced several more litters, and aside from two or three pups dying they all grew up healthy."

"Incest does not cause mutations; it simply increases the chances of recessive genes of popping up in later generations. I don't know how dragon kind will survive, we are few and only have so many likely partners, but I know I will not start with my sister."

"You are not human, my lord," she told me as if trying to ease me in a direction I refused to go down. "Do not bind yourself to human concepts and relationships, you are a dragon, so do as dragons do. After all, what are your parents to each other?"

When the night grew darker and Jessica left me, the weight of her words lingered in the stillness of the clearing. I remained seated, my thoughts swirling in a tempest of conflicting emotions. The stars above glittered like distant beacons, offering no answers but serving as a reminder of the vastness of the world and the complexity of our existence.

The soft rustling of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl echoed through the night, punctuating the silence and lending a sense of serenity to my contemplation. I closed my eyes, allowing the cool night air to wash over me, hoping to find solace within its embrace. Lost in my thoughts, I felt a gentle breeze caress my scales, as if nature itself sought to provide me with comfort and guidance. It whispered stories of ancient wisdom and the resilience of love in the face of adversity. I opened my eyes, the moon casting its ethereal glow upon me, illuminating the path forward.

Perhaps I was being selfish, maybe Jessica was right. I am not human, so why should I behave like a human? But in the depths of my soul, I knew that if I went down the path that Wraith wanted my soul would be tainted for the rest of my life, my long life.

As I resigned myself to sleep, a subtle sensation crawled up my spine, sending a tingling wave of energy coursing through my body. It was a familiar yet enigmatic feeling, reminiscent of the mysterious scent that had awakened a primal anger within me before. But this time, it held a different essence, softer, gentler, and more nuanced.

Curiosity piqued, I turned my gaze upward, searching for the source of this ethereal sensation. The canopy of the trees above swayed gently in the night breeze, their leaves whispering secrets known only to the night. I focused my senses, attuning myself to the subtle shifts in the air, the rustling of branches, and the murmurs of nocturnal creatures.

Two colossal shapes emerged from the expanse, their immense forms casting striking silhouettes against the luminous backdrop. They approached with grace and power that seemed to defy earthly limitations.

As the mysterious figures drew closer, my heart quickened with a mix of awe and anticipation. Their wings spanned wide, effortlessly gliding through the air with otherworldly elegance. The moonlight illuminated the slight patterns adorning their scales.

Relief and joy washed over me as I realized who they were, the only other creatures in this world that could be that size, Mother and Father. They descended gracefully from the heavens, their wings spanning wide, casting a shadow that seemed to embrace the earth itself.

As they landed with a gentle thud, the ground quivered beneath their colossal weight. The forest seemed to sigh in response as if acknowledging their arrival. In comparison to them, I was but a spec.

"Mother, Father," I addressed them. "What a surprise, how did you know where I would be?

Mother came close and sniffed me, nearly my entire body fit in her mouth, as for Father I would sit comfortably in his. He could devour an elephant if he so wished it.

"Hmm, you ask that of me, your mother?" She sounded as if she wanted to laugh. "You could fly to the ends of the earth, sweet babe, I could still find you."

I smiled bashfully, I then turned towards my father. "I'm surprised to see you here, Father, what could make the biggest, baddest dragon run around looking for his son?"

He focuses his crimson eyes on me. "What can I say?" he said, "You've grown on me," hearing those words brightens my day immensely.

"I'm happy to see you both, but I have a feeling that this isn't a simple visit, you're here for a reason."

They looked at each other and then back at him, my mother spoke first. "When your sister returned alone, I had feared the worst, especially since she refused to tell me what happened and ignored any mention of you. She was distraught and very sad, you two had a falling out and it pains me to see that, whatever occurred between you two should come to an end, it's time to come home."

Father then spoke. "Be it from me to treat you like a hatchling, you're a dragon grown, but it disturbs me to see our clan in conflict, I would have you home where our problems can be solved in peace. Are you not tired of being so far away from us, would you not like to go home?"

"She didn't tell you anything?" I asked. "Anything at all? Why I remain out here and will not return?"

Mother shook her head. "She mentioned you interacting with the humans, you seem to have gathered your own clan."

Father uttered a guttural, low-verb noise. "It pleases me to know that my spawn is a conqueror, a true dragon, you have claimed territory and even have humans waiting on you, like Master Aegon."

"I wouldn't say I have people at my beckon and call, they acknowledge as their superior and bring me tribute as if I were their lord, but that's about. I haven't really interacted with them, until that recently that is."

"Tell us everything then," Mother asked, and I did. After I was done recounting the last few weeks and what had occurred with Jeyne, I could tell that they were displeased and distressed, but both were very angry.

"That ant dares think he could ever aspire to bond with a dragon, the arrogance, the stupidity?!" Father snarled so loud that it could be heard for miles around, Mother was none too pleased at Harren's ultimatum either, snarling just as fiercely.

"Take us to him," she demanded. "I shall burn him until there is nothing left, I shall set him aflame and all his works! Take me to him now!"

"He lives that monstrosity of a castle that sits near the great lake, doesn't he? Ahh, I shall take pleasure in reducing it to naught but a smoldering pile of ruin!"

Just as Father stretched out his wings, I stopped him. "No, wait! You can't do that!" I pleaded. "I want to kill that vile man just as much as you, but Harren is not the only person who lives in that castle, there are hundreds of innocents there too, including Jeyne."

Mother shook her head. "You can claim another pet when you so desire, that vile creature believes that he is in any way worthy of us, he is not! He will burn for that belief!"

"Please, listen! Just listen to me for a minute, please, else why did you even come here?"

"You care for the humans?"

"Yes, I do, I don't the lives of innocents on my soul, I want him. That's it. His cohorts are fair game as well."

"You are kind, sweetling," Mother said. "Far too kind for your own good, it will not do you good for this world is cruel as well as those in it. You are too fair to your enemies, that want will only prolong the suffering the many, we could end it in a night, we could be home before sun rises, but I will not force you."

"Thank you," I replied.

"Is that it then?" Father questioned. "You elect to stay and fight this king?"

"I suppose, I have no other choice, I got into this mess I can't go running away from it now. I would also disappoint so many people, and my friend. I should have known better than to form bonds with people, but I couldn't help myself, if I run now, I will regret it till the end of my days..."

"Your sister will not be pleased," Mother stated. "Your sister truly loves you, sweet one, why deny her? Is she not worthy enough for you?"

"She would make a good mate, spawn of mine. She is strong and fierce, your spawn would be strong and healthy, and our clan would be the envy of every other."

The way he said that made me feel so incredibly sad, he still doesn't know. One day I'll tell him, not tonight though.

"I love her as my sister, not as my mate. Is that not enough?"

"Not for her," Mother interjected. "You will live for a very long time, sweetling, your sister as well. When you mate you two will have the opportunity to be a mated pair for as long as you live. Does that not sound fair? Do not be cruel, that is all I have to say..."

"Hmm, we came here hoping to bring you back, but that will not happen it seems, and we will not force you back. Just know that your absence is noted by the caretakers, especially now that your sister returned without you." Father concluded

"Will they come for me like the first time?"

Father didn't know either. "I do not know; I suppose so long as you're not hurt there is no worry, but I have a feeling that once the master's discover what you've been up to, they will take keen interest in you. You and your ability to not only understand but speak back to humans, we shall see in time. Well, if that is all, we shall leave you to fight your war."

"Wait," I exclaimed just as they prepared to fly off. "You're not going to try and help? With your help this war would be over in a day!"

Father laughed. "This is your war, spawn of mine, we offered you our aid, but you rejected it. This is not our issue; I have no interest in these humans and their wars, simply do not get yourself killed, I do like you after all."

"Well... can you lend me a hand with something?" I pleaded one last time; Father narrowed his eye on me.

"Very well, this one time."

I smiled, what better way to start a war than with a bang, a very loud bang.

Last edited: Jun 6, 2023

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Beebos

Jun 5, 2023

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Threadmarks Chapter 14

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Beebos

Bless King Maegor

Jun 27, 2023

#554

Tall, big, and stout walls with squat towers at its four corners with ramparts and arrow slits ready to defend every inch of its walls. Looking down, I had to admit it was an impressive structure, not as impressive as the proper castles that dotted the land, but still strong and imposing, especially from the ground. Within its walls were housed several other structures, there was a great hall, armory, smithery, barracks, and a slew of other buildings that I could not give a function to off the top of my head, and flying proudly in the wind were the banners of House Hoare, the grey and fat structure was a stark reminder of the Ironborn's rule, that they're authority can only be imposed at the end of a spear or sword.

Turning around I ran down the column of our army as it made its way to the foot of the fortress. Blackwood, Ryger, and my men walked in common cause, their respective banners flapping in the wind along with several other lesser houses and vassals, at the furthest back were our supplies; our wagon trains, and even camp followers. Hoster wasn't too happy about the camp follower situation but banning them from the campaign was not going to be an option ever, it would have been foolish to deprive the soldiers of the few comforts awarded to them.

Giving one last look around the land it looked all too peaceful and tranquil for what was about to occur, in the far distance I imagined villages and homes dotting the land all with people living their own lives and yet here we were about to engage in the fight of our lives. When I touched the ground and settled with the rest of the others, I looked at the battlements and gauged how we should go about it. Ladders would be prime if were to go about it a more traditional way, a ram would also be ideal to go through the front, that was if we wanted to play the game normally and on their terms.

If Mother or Father were here this would all be easy, all that would need to happen is a simple blast of flame and those pretty gates would come crumbling down, those towers would be rocked and thrown from their foundations, and the walls would buckle and collapse before us. I shouldn't think too hard about it though, they were busy doing what I asked of them, I had to focus all my attention on what was here and in front of me. As the gates of the fortress heaved inwards allowing a host of riders to come forth bearing Harren's banner I lined myself up behind Hoster and crew, as they came to us, I listened in on the conversation that Willem and Hoster were in at the moment.

"We have the numbers, my lord. We can take the fortress by storm if you so desire," Willem suggested eagerness in his voice. "Not that I doubt Ser Seath's abilities, but I trust in the traditional way more."

"No," Hoster responded firmly. "Storming while reliable would force us to bear their punishment, I don't want to have us shed blood so early. It's not that I am afraid of sending our men into battle, I just don't wish for it be begin with a storming, that is all."

Willem persisted, proposing the construction of ladders and a makeshift ram to breach the gates. Hoster shook his head, rejecting the idea. He turned to me, as did the others, seeking a glimmer of hope.

"We've already discussed the plan, Seath is to lead the way on this one, he shall be our hammer for this battle, we have the advantage here, let's play it. That is if you are still willing?" Hoster said.

I nodded in solemn agreement. " I am ready, I swear to do all that I can. Trust me when I say that whatever fighting spirit they have will melt when met by my fire. "

Relief mingled with lingering doubt within Hoster's expression. "I hope so, Seath. If we must resort to storming, we shall, but I refuse to throw my men into the grinder if we have alternatives."

"Aye," Lord Jared interjected, "If we find ourselves storming a castle with a dragon by our side, then what use is the dragon?"

"That won't be necessary ," I retorted, a touch of annoyance in my voice. "We'll show them soon enough that we mean business, I don't intend to fail."

Lord Jared regarded me before nodding and redirecting his attention. Hoster spoke again, determined to avoid any surprises.

"We must send out scouts and outsiders immediately. I will not be caught off guard by an approaching force, whether in front of us or behind us."

"Bracken wouldn't dare," Lord Landon Sharp asserted confidently before a flicker of doubt clouded his face. "Would he?"

Hoster shrugged, "It's a question for the ages. Whom does William hate more? Me or Harren?"

"Remember, his nephew was taken by the Ironborn," Jason interjected. "If not for Seath's intervention, he would have been a lifeless ornament on the Ironborns' walls. What would William gain from fighting us?"

"Much," commented Willem. "Your family's land, along with royal favor, along with no Ironborn within his territory. That is more than what Harwyn Hoare offered Lothar when he betrayed Agnes."

"Different times," Jared remarked. "Let us pray that Lord William comes to his senses and stays out of this conflict, maybe even join us when we prove ourselves capable."

"Nonetheless, I refuse to be complacent. Dispatch the scouts immediately," Willem agreed, riding off to carry out the order. Meanwhile, the Ironborn riders had reached us, with the bald and imposing Captain General at their helm. It was clear they would not surrender willingly; a battle was inevitable.

"Lord Hoster," the Captain General began, his voice harsh and cold. "What a surprise to see you here. How unfortunate that you did not give me prior notice; I would have enjoyed hosting you in my hall." He shifted his gaze to me and the soldiers behind me. "If you wished to visit me and discuss matters, you should have come alone. I'm afraid there's no space for your men... or your dragon." He then noticed Lord Jared. "Oh, Lord Jared, forgive me for not noticing you. Welcome."

Hoster's response was curt. "We have not come here to negotiate or revel with you. We demand the surrender of this garrison and this fort. Your king has crossed a line; breaking all bonds of trust and violating the contract that binds us to him as his vassals. Starting today, House Hoare will learn that everything it possesses is due to our benevolence."

The Captain General seethed with anger, yet a tight smile etched its way onto his face. "Is that so? Because you allowed it? Your memory must be faulty, for I don't recall seeking your permission when I strode through your lands and claimed what was rightfully ours. We take as we please, be it grain or coin, all for the king. Those who oppose us face the taste of our steel. It seems we have been remiss in that regard, however."

"No further words are needed, Commander Arrec," Hoster intervened, earning a scowl from the Captain. "Our demands are simple. Lower your banners, open your gates, and have your men lay down their arms, surrendering yourself into our custody. Rest assured, you will be treated with respect and dignity, a courtesy you denied countless others."

The Ironborn Captain erupted into a fit of rage. "Surrender and open my gates! Haha! I never imagined you would be so audacious. I vividly recall hanging your pathetic brother," he sneered, provoking a reaction from Jason that was promptly halted by his father. "I expected you to seek revenge, to rebel against me. I even warned the king. But to my surprise, nothing. Nothing at all. That's when I realized I was dealing with a craven."

"Uncle, give me leave to remove this scums head, please."

Hoster shook his head. "There's no need. By the end of today, his head will be mine." He said, a smile tugging at his cheeks.

The Captain General grimaced unfazed by the threat, he then turned his attention to me once again. "If you think this creature will bring you victory, you're sorely mistaken. I don't know how you managed to tame it, but you're no Valyrian, dragons have not won a war in over a century, their time has passed, should you be foolish enough to attack we shall show you why."

Hoster's smile faded, and I stepped forward. "I look forward to it," I declared, determination lacing my words. "You'll be meeting your end today, screaming in agony. "

Visions of razed and sacked villages filled my mind, memories of the innocent villagers strewn on the tree. These images steeled my resolve, they deserved retribution.

"We shall see," the Captain General spat defiantly. "As for you, my lords, I shall relish teaching you the consequences of rebellion. Once I've dealt with you, I'll ship you to the king. If he so desires, I shall witness your seats razed and your lineages extinguished."

Hoster shook his head, "So be it then. I will give you till sundown, if you do not strike your banners by then you shall see."

As we established our encampment, the tension in the air was palpable. The lords gathered within Hoster's pavilion, their expressions a mix of weariness and anticipation. I stood near the entrance, my eyes fixed on the Ironborn stronghold in the distance.

For a time I lost myself in my thoughts, my mind an endless maelstrom that threatened to overwhelm me if I did not properly calm down and organize such thoughts, at first it was rough and patchy; important things missing leaving only gaping holes where proper logic and rational actions should be. When I took a step forward, I found that the plans I had created did not make sense and because of that I had to take two steps back to the endless void, I cursed myself. I was a mess right now.

Slowly, a plan began to form. First, I would need to disable their archers. With a swift swoop, I would unleash my fiery breath upon the parapets, turning their once formidable defense into a smoldering heap. The sight of their arrows reduced to ashes would instill fear and uncertainty among the Ironborn ranks.

Next, I would target the gatehouse. Its solid construction posed a challenge, but not one I couldn't overcome. A concentrated blast of flames would weaken its foundations, causing it to crumble under the weight of my power. The sound of splintering wood and crashing stones would be music to our ears, a sign of our impending triumph.

As the gate fell our forces could advance and engage the disoriented enemy.

I smiled to myself as the weight of unease left me, I knew what I had to do now, I was no longer walking in darkness. At that moment, a voice brought me out of my inner world, it was Jason who emerged from the tent. He looked tired and frail, he was stressed and worried, for Jeyne and no doubt himself.

"Jason," I greeted him, the warmth of my voice resonating with a touch of concern.

He approached me, his steps purposeful yet weighted with uncertainty. "Seath," he began, his voice tinged with doubt. "They're heavy in debate, the sentiment is that the Ironborn won't simply surrender, something I also believe. They're stubborn people, and the commander of that fort is perhaps even more stubborn than Harren."

I understood his concerns, I knew the Ironborn well enough and knew that they would rather die than give up, they're quite boneheaded. Their pride and stubbornness ran deep, like the roots of an ancient tree. "Don't worry, Jason," I reassured him. " I have a plan, if when the sun comes down and those banners aren't lying at our feet then they're done for, trust me. By the end of today you'll be drinking and feasting in that great hall of theirs."

He nodded, finding some solace in my words. Yet, I could sense another weight pressing upon his heart, a personal burden that bore heavily upon his shoulders. It was Jeyne.

I thought about laying a gentle claw on his shoulder, but once again cursed my lack of arms, instead I chose to gently touch him with my tail. " I know you worry about Jeyne," I said, my voice tinged with empathy. " I want you to know that we will find a way to rescue her. I promise you that. We won't leave her in Harren's clutches, no matter what, I promise."

His eyes met mine, a mix of gratitude and concern. "I appreciate your words," he replied, his voice filled with a mixture of gratitude and longing. "I pray that her perceived importance can shield her somewhat, if she is the key to you then hopefully Harren believes that such a key needs to be kept whole, if you know what I mean. I just hope we can save her before it's too late."

"We will do everything in our power," I assured him, the sincerity in my words resounding deep within him. " Jeyne will be free... in time."

Before our conversation could delve deeper, a voice called out for Jason, summoning him away to attend to his duties. He glanced over his shoulder, a fleeting look of worry etched upon his face. The weight of responsibility pressed upon him from all sides.

"I must go," he said, his voice heavy with the weight of his burdens. "But thank you. Your words give me hope."

With that, I was left to my lonesome once more. Returning my gaze to the stronghold in the distance I sighed and decided it would do me no good to stand like a statue simply waiting for a possible outcome that was more likely not to occur, I knew there would be a fight, I needed to rest and prepare myself for that fight instead of stressing to myself. Looking for a spot I found a place on the very edge of the currently forming camp that looked suitable and made my way there, landing and settling on the lush and soft ground, I looked around and saw that all of the men looked.

As the sun gradually descended toward the horizon, casting a blood-red hue across the sky, a sense of urgency gripped me. Time seemed to slip through my talons like grains of sand, each passing moment bringing us closer to the imminent clash with the Ironborn. I hated how fast everything was going, things needed to slow down.

The camp, once bustling with preparations, now settled into an expectant hush. Warriors sharpened their blades, donned their armor, and exchanged solemn glances. The air crackled with anticipation, mingling with the scent of sweat and determination.

However, as the time drew nearer everything seemed to come to a crawl, where time seemed to fly away from me like a distant song I once heard ages ago, now it became a snail that crawled slowly on the ground. With a deep breath, I closed my eyes, allowing the sounds of the camp to wash over me. The soft murmur of conversations, the clanging of armor, and the distant neighing of horses all merged into a symphony of readiness.

It all came crashing down when horns were blown, and the camp flexed to life. The time had come, and battle was here, my time had come. With a sigh I tried in vain to expel the anxiety coursing through my body, I made my way to the command tent where I would find my confirmation to begin.

"Are the banners still flying?" Hoster asked a man who was looking through a spyglass. "What do you see?" He asked again, demanding to know.

"They're the same, my lord," the man answered back, his voice quaked. "They still fly House Hoare's banner"

Hoster dipped his head in disappointment, it seemed he had thought the commander would surrender.

"That's it then," Willem declared. "The fool refuses to give in, I shall ready the men, my lord!" Willem along with Jared and Landon rushed off to ready their men, leaving Hoster to stand and stare at the structure in the distance.

"What a disappointment," Hoster sighed. "He is a stubborn man, that I know, but even then, I had thought he would come to his senses and surrender to us. Surely even he knows this won't even be a fight, more of a slaughter..." he turned to me shaking his head. "Are you ready, Seath?"

I gave a nod. " As ready as I'll ever be," I said, trying to sound as confident as I could. " Just tell me when."

After much pause, Hoster spoke again. "Go with Willem and ready the men, Jason. Once Seath can create an opening for us, we will rush in and finish them off."

I soared into the darkened sky, awaiting the army to prepare itself. The sinking sun cast an eerie glow upon the battlefield, where shadows flickered amidst the dancing torchlight, creating an otherworldly atmosphere.

With a swift bank and the force of an arrow, I surged toward the fort, feeling the weight of the wind pushing against me. In mere moments, I reached my first target—the battlements. Tapping into the inferno within me, I unleashed a torrent of flames upon the archers and crossbowmen who hoped to bring me down. Their screams filled the air, mingling with the crackling fire.

Shifting my focus to the gatehouse, I directed my flames at the sturdy oak gates, determined to bring them down. The intense heat licked at the gate, scorching its surface.

Next, I turned my attention to the square towers at each corner. The towers ignited like candles, flames dancing high into the sky. My fire reached inside, seeping into halls and stairways, its gold-white glow illuminating the fortress like an inferno unleashed.

Returning to the gates that stubbornly withstood my previous onslaught, I unleashed hell upon them once more. The structure trembled under the force of my flames, but it held strong. Undeterred, I unleashed my fiery assault a fourth time, causing the gate to weaken like melting wax. With a great cry, the foundation finally gave way, and the gates collapsed into pieces.

Across the field, the resounding war cry of our forces filled the air, accompanied by the blaring of horns. Our troops charged through the breach, while desperate men attempted to flee through the same gateway. I almost felt a twinge of pity as they faced my wrath, but my pity was better saved for the unfortunate animals caught in the path of my fire—the horses whose stables I had reduced to charred ruins.

Ascending into the sky, I turned to seek my next target. However, my gaze fell upon the central keep, and a triumphant smile spread across my face. Harren's banner no longer fluttered above the imposing structure. A victorious roar escaped my jaws as I circled the fort, witnessing our forces swiftly eliminating the remnants of resistance.

By midnight, the banners of Ryger and Blackwood stood side by side, proudly signaling our victory. I perched atop one of the melted towers, gazing down at the jubilant men feasting and reveling in their triumph. But as they indulged, I looked onward with solemnity, knowing that this was only the beginning.

Last edited: Jun 27, 2023

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Beebos

Jun 27, 2023

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Threadmarks Chapter 15

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Beebos

Bless King Maegor

Jun 2, 2024

#571

The gods were whispering to her; she could hear and feel them. Their voices were gentle, wise, and cool against her skin.

All around her, from thick and high branches of the heart tree, blood-red leaves fell like snow in winter, falling around where she knelt, falling on her shoulders and her head, sitting atop her dark curls before another gentle wind took them away for a new bunch. She had been praying for some time, her knees had begun to grow numb and uncomfortable, and her throat dry with the constant prayers that left her mouth. She would not move though, not until her gods allowed her to.

The weirwood that she knelt before was unlike any weirwood Jeyne had ever seen. Its trunk, vast and gnarled, seemed to twist and writhe like ancient serpents frozen in time. The bark, pale as bone, was etched with deep grooves and patterns that hinted at faces and stories of ages past. Its branches stretched high and wide, creating a canopy that felt both protective and watchful as if the tree itself held the secrets of the old gods within its roots and boughs.

It was old, that much was apparent. When she first laid eyes upon it, she stopped in her tracks, her eyes wide and mouth agape. Seath had been a wonder, something out of a fairytale, with him, she felt as if her soul had been torn from her body and set on fire, but with this tree, it was as if her father was brought back from the dead. She kept her composure only until they had allowed her a moment alone, the guards that had brought her turning their backs, only then did she allow herself to cry.

She hated it. She hated that she had been brought to tears by the Ironborn not once but twice.

They saw me cry, she cried when Harwyn took her, and they laughed as they dragged her away, hauling her onto a horse as if she was a carcass and stealing her away. I disgrace you. Her apology was met by a gust of wind that played with her hair. I disgrace my blood. I disgrace you, father.

Her father was strong, she still remembered that. Not just in body but in spirit, he had been a great warrior and a great speaker. She wondered if the gods could not make up their minds when they shaped him in his mother's womb, whether they wished for him to be a warrior or leader of men; they made him both. It was that strength that killed him. The Ironborn could not tolerate a strong man like him, then or now.

They came for him in the night, armed with steel and torch, riding in like wraiths, screaming and howling. They came as the castle slept, and the guards were unprepared; they came armed with a warrant stamped with the king's seal, a warrant for his arrest, which detailed his supposed crime of interfering with the king's business.

They had come lightly armed, with too few men to storm their walls, and her uncle would not give his brother up so easily.

'They lie,' she had heard him say to her father. 'I will believe it when that bastard comes here himself and explains it. If they want my blood so badly, they can have it, but I will have theirs first.'

Yet they didn't fight, and Raventree Hall did not suffer a storming. Instead, her father had talked her uncle down and turned himself over to the Ironborn willingly. As a child, she had never understood why he had done what he did; she hated him for it, for giving up without so much as a fight. The image of her father being bound in chains and a hood draped over his face haunted her for years, and even now, lingering like a foul curse in her mind. With time, however, she came to understand why, though not without bitter feelings.

He had done it to save his family. To save her and her brother from suffering a fate that no parent would ever want to be responsible for. She knew now that had her uncle resisted that night, her fate would have been a brutal one, one where she would have been raped by countless men and eventually beheaded or drowned, or worse. Her brother, so small then, would have been thrown from the walls of their castle.

He gave himself in to save their house. To let them see another dawn, no matter how painful it would have been, to ensure that they would go on. The next time she saw her father, he was dead. Returned to them on the back of a carriage, piled under bodies long since turned to rot; she hardly recognized them. After that day her uncle was not the same man. What fire he had turned to ashes, if even that, and his once towering frame served to fill his high seat than the saddles he used to love.

She had hated him too, for a time, for not doing anything after they killed her father, his brother. She was a foolish girl, unaware of the world and its workings. When her first child was born she had resigned herself to a life of quiet defiance. She would not risk her child's life over her grievances, what mother would she be?

Thoughts of her children turned her mood, she clenched her hands together even more, beginning to shake.

Do not cry, she commanded herself. Do not disgrace them too.

One last, long, gust of wind brushed against her, flowing through her hair, and she smiled. Her gods are here. They are with her.

With the end of the wind came the end of her prayers. Raising her head, she gazed upon the carved face. Blood trickled from its twisted mouth, staining the pale bark, and its flaring eyes seemed to stare back at her, filled with fury and rage. A hateful tree for a hateful king.

"That's strange, the wind has died," said a gentle voice, soft and melodic like the tinkling of tiny bells.

"Maybe it just got tired of listening to your singing," teased another, playful and warm, carrying a hint of laughter.

"Or maybe it's just enjoying the quiet, unlike you, Bethany," Sybill Harroway replied, gentle, but with an edge.

Bethany Strong chuckled, her laughter rich and warm. "Well-struck, little songbird. Yet, I wager the woods prefer a bit of liveliness."

"Perhaps, but if the trees commence to dance, 'twill be because of your jesting, not my song," Sybill said with a light giggle.

A third voice, filled with mirth, joined in, "If the trees do dance, 'tis likely to escape the both of your prattlin'. Pray, let the wood have its peace."

Jeyne had nearly forgotten her companions, who were forced on her by her Ironborn jailors, to keep her company, so they say, but she knew the truth. To keep watch over her and all her doings. Bethany Strong, with her warm, teasing laughter, Bella Lothstone, whose deep, mirthful voice often cut through the air, and Sybill Harroway, the gentle, high-pitched songbird. Despite their intended roles, they frequently grated on her nerves. Bethany's constant jests, Bella's pointed remarks, and Sybill's incessant chatter made it hard for Jeyne to find a moment of peace, even in the serenity of the godswood.

They were the price, however, of leaving her gilded cage atop that damnable tower. Freedom, it seemed, came with its own set of chains. She sighed, resigning herself to the fact that even in the vastness of Harren's fortress, peace was a luxury she could not afford.

Having finished her prayers, she moved to sit on a weathered stone, her deep red cloak spread out beneath her. Sybill, noticing her, tilted her head and asked, "are your prayers concluded, Lady Jeyne?"

Jeyne nodded, her eyes distant as she replied, "Aye, they are. The gods have heard enough for today."

Bella, leaning against a nearby tree, raised an eyebrow and asked, "did they offer any wisdom in return, M'Lady, or do they stay silent as always?"

She eyed her with a glare, her patience with this hen wearing thin. Sybill, noticing the tension, scolded Bella. "Must you always be so impertinent? Show some respect for Lady Jeyne's faith."

The redhead rolled her eyes, unfazed by the rebuke. "No offense meant," she said, her tone insincere. "Just wonderin' if her trees had any words of comfort for her in these tryin' times."

Sybill's eyes flashed with annoyance. "Your sarcasm does little to mask your disrespect," she retorted sharply. "If you cannot speak with sincerity, it is better you hold your tongue."

Bethany, her hand resting on her swollen belly, added her voice to Sybill's rebuke. "Indeed, Bella, you'd think with your past profession, you'd have learned the value of a respectful tongue," she teased, a playful glint in her eyes.

Her words brought a faint smile to Jeyne's lips.

Perhaps I misjudged this hen too harshly.

Bella's lips twisted into a sneer. "Why you-"

"Pray, Lady Jeyne, forgive poor Luka. Old habits die hard, and it seems even the finest company cannot teach her a lady's grace." She patted her swollen belly and grinned from ear to ear, while Bella's cheeks flushed.

"Luka? Is there a story behind this name?" Jeyne inquired.

Before Bethany could respond, Bella lashed out, her voice sharp and defensive. "Enough! Enough with your questions." Her eyes darted nervously to Bethany, fearing what she might reveal.

Seizing the moment, Bethany said, her voice calm. "If you wish to avoid further shame, Bella, you should seek Lady Jeyne's forgiveness for your insolence."

The foxy-looking woman flushed with shame and frustration. She hesitated, her words coming out haltingly. "M'Lady Jeyne, I... I beg pardon. Weren't meanin' no harm. Please, forgive me." She struggled with each word; her lowborn accent was more pronounced in her discomfort.

Jeyne regarded her with a stern gaze, letting the silence hang for a moment. "You are forgiven," she said, her tone firm. "But see to it that you remember your place and speak to me with respect henceforth."

Bella sneered and looked away; her jaw visibly tense.

Bethany clapped her hands lightly, declaring, "wonderful, all is forgiven and settled. Let us not dwell on it further."

Playing with a lock of her brown hair, Sybill, with eagerness plain on her face, turned to Jeyne with a soft smile. "My lady, would you wish for me to sing you another song? Something to lighten our spirits?"

She thought for a moment and then it popped into her head, her expression softened into a smile. "Do you know The Age of Oppression?"

Her songbird shook her head, her curiosity piqued. "I do not, my lady. Sounds scary. Pray tell, perhaps I could learn it for you."

"Oh, it's a beautiful song, one every true Riverlander knows. I shouldn't expect you to know it, being locked up here. It isn't a tune old Harren would enjoy much," Jeyne remarked, the song already playing within her head.

There was a warning gleam in Bethany's eye, silently urging Jeyne to tread carefully. But Jeyne was beyond caring.

"How curious," Sybill said innocently, her brow furrowing. "Why would the king dislike a song? Songs are meant to be sung."

Jeyne's lips curved into a mischievous smile. "Perhaps I shall sing it for you. I promise you won't forget it."

Before she could though, a shadow fell over their gathering. A man with sharp features and piercing pale blue eyes limped forward, a cane in one hand. His hunched back and slightly protruding jaw gave him an unsettling appearance. "You would be wise to tread carefully, Lady Blackwood," he warned, his voice low. "One never knows who might be listening. Even the trees have ears in this place."

Jeyne's smile faded as she met his gaze and her thoughts turned sour.

The Leech emerges from his hole.

Bethany's hands instinctively moved to her belly, Sybill's soft, innocent expression turned to one of wary caution, and Bella's defiance melted into anxious submission. Jeyne, however, held his gaze, her contempt barely concealed.

"I knew I smelled something foul in the air," she said, watching the man for any reaction. There was none. "Have you grown tired of skulking in the shadows, or has Harren finally decided to kill me?"

Alester's lips curved into a faint, mocking smile. "Always so dramatic, Lady Jeyne. No, the king has not yet tired of his little raven. He enjoys your songs too much."

Jeyne's eyes narrowed, her patience wearing thin. "Then why grace us with your presence? Surely you have more important matters to attend to than spoiling my evening. Like say, torturing some small animal?"

He ignored her with a muted expression, she did not know if the barb even grazed him. He turned his gaze to her companions. "You three, leave us. I wish to speak to Lady Blackwood alone."

Bethany, Sybill, and Bella exchanged hesitant glances but complied, bowing their heads slightly as they left. Once they were alone, Alester's demeanor shifted. He narrowed his eyes, regarding Jeyne with the sternness one might use with a misbehaving child.

"Truly, Jeyne? That song?" he asked. "Do you seek to provoke Harren's wrath so openly?"

Jeyne, still seated, picked up a fallen leaf and twirled it between her fingers, her expression one of feigned innocence. "What issue is there?" she asked, her tone almost playful. "Does Harren not enjoy hearing what the people he rules over think of him and his vermin?"

Alester's response was curt. "Don't be stupid, girl. I do what I can for you while you're here. Don't gamble your life away with reckless words."

She stood abruptly, the leaf crumpling in her hand. "Damn you to the seven hells! I don't need your bloody help. I'm here because of you!" she spat, her voice trembling with anger. "You think your meager acts of kindness make up for that?"

His blue eyes hardened, but he remained silent, letting her words hang in the air. Jeyne's chest heaved with frustration, her fists clenched at her sides.

"You may have power over me now, but don't think for a second that I am grateful for it," she continued, her voice low and fierce. "I will speak my mind, and no amount of threats will change that."

He raised a hand. "Calm yourself. There's no need for such emotion here, especially wrongly aimed at me. The only reason you are even allowed freedom from your chambers is because I convinced Harren to grant it. Will you not thank me for that, at the least?"

The anger within her simmered, her eyes still blazing with defiance. She took a step forward, her fists clenched at her sides, her whole body trembling with the effort to contain what she so badly wanted to do. She took a deep breath, her chest heaving as she tried to steady herself, but the resentment remained.

"Thank you?" she echoed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She threw her arms out wide in a dramatic gesture, the leaf crumpling and falling from her grasp. "Thank you for allowing me a taste of freedom in this prison? Spare me your false generosity." She took another step closer, her face inches from his, her eyes locked onto his. "It changes nothing."

A sudden cawing interrupted their heated exchange, Jeyne turned to see a large raven, a lone bird, perched on a nearby branch. Its presence broke the tension, and Jeyne took the opportunity to turn away from Alester. She walked back to the weirwood and stared up at its carved face, her fingers tracing the grooves in the bark.

Alester followed her, his tone softening as he spoke. "Dear Jeyne, believe me when I say that I am a friend. Your only friend in this place."

Jeyne laughed, a bitter sound that echoed through ought. She turned to face him, her expression one of disbelief and scorn. "A friend?" she scoffed. "If you were truly my friend you would help me escape this wretched place."

His lips curled into a wry smile, and he let out a chuckle. "I may be fond of you, but not enough to risk my own neck. Harren isn't exactly forgiving, especially with those he deems competent." He took a step closer, his tone turning more serious. "I've served him most of my life, what do you think will happen when our prized guest goes missing without so much as without a trace?"

She swore under her breath, spitting on the ground in disgust. "I'm not your 'guest.' You can take your 'friendship' and shove it."

Alester raised an eyebrow, his lips still twisted in a mocking smile. "What is so wrong with us being friends? You could do worse, Jeyne. After all, it's your little dalliances with your scaly friend that got you here in the first place."

Fury flashed in Jeyne's eyes, and she swung her hand to slap him. But Alester was quicker, grabbing her wrist with surprising strength. His grip was firm yet not painful. His eyes flicked to her wrist, noticing the bruises and marks. "Ah, I see Prince Harwyn has been his charming self again. My apologies for his lack of manners."

Jeyne tried to yank her hand away, but he held fast. "If you truly felt for me, you'd help me escape this hell," she snapped.

Alester's eyes darkened, his humor fading. "And why would I do that when you are the key, Jeyne? The key to dear Seath."

"Don't you dare say his name," Jeyne hissed. "Scum like you have no right to even utter a good name like his."

He finally released her wrist, but his hand moved to gently touch her cheek, brushing over a bruise that had turned a sickly yellow. "Such a shame, marring that pretty face," he murmured.

Jeyne flinched, nursing her cheek as she turned away again. "Go away."

But Alester was undeterred. "Tell me about him, he truly seems amazing. A dragon with scruples, thought, belief... What a beast he must be. I simply can't wait to meet him."

"Leave me be," Jeyne demanded.

"A shame, I so enjoy our talks. They lighten the mood of this dreary place. Especially now as war looms over us; my days have been filled with nothing but war councils and troop movements. Truly, it's all so terribly gloomy. War is a dreadful affair, wouldn't you agree?"

She ignored him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reply. Instead, she returned to the weirwood, tracing the carved face with her fingers. She hoped the silence would bore him and that it would prove a better statement than any word she could utter.

"Silence will win you no victories, truly, you simply make your existence all the much worse for yourself,"

With a nod of his head, a servant approached, carrying ink, quill, and paper along with a sturdy board for writing. The servant held the items out for her inspection, his head bowed.

With a finger he tapped the board, his limp more pronounced as he shifted his weight. "You must write to your lord uncle and convince him to lay down his arms and end this foolish rebellion," he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument. "And tell Seath that he must come here to speak with us. We wish to work out an agreement with him, one that would be favorable to him."

Jeyne's eyes flickered with defiance as she glanced at the offered materials, but she remained silent, her jaw set in a stubborn line. The weight of his demand pressed heavily on her. "It should be Harren writing to him, not me. I did not start this war."

"Mind your tongue," Alester replied sharply. "Your uncle will heed only your words. You are to tell him that you have experienced good treatment and are well cared for. Convince him to lay down his arms and ride here at once to renew his oaths to the crown. Your uncle, his heir, and all male Blackwoods."

A cold dread settled in her stomach. They want me to lure them unarmed into a slaughter. She knew that should they come here, none of them would leave alive. Her eyes met the cripple, and for a moment, her defiance faltered, replaced by a deep, helpless anger.

"You would have me lie?" Jeyne's voice quivered with indignation. "You would have me deceive my kin, leading them to their deaths? And you ask this of me here, in the godswood, before the heart tree?" Her fury boiled over, her eyes blazing with anger.

Her gaze shifted momentarily to the carved face on the weirwood, its ancient eyes seeming to judge the scene before it. She remembered her lesson. To lie before the gods is a grave sin, one that will haunt you all your mortal life.

Alester's expression remained unmoved, though a flicker of something passed through his eyes. "This is no lie, Jeyne. They will be treated with kindness and respect, as befits their name. This is all a misunderstanding, blown out of proportion. By doing this, you can save them, and thousands of others, from pain and suffering."

"They would be prisoners-"

"Honored guests."

"Like Bracken's cousin? What crime did Argyll Bracken commit that was worthy of hanging? When has winning a duel ever been criminal? Or was it because the man he killed was Ironborn?"

"I had no say in that matter. Regardless, that is beside the point."

"Should they come, they will never leave. I know this."

"That isn't true," he countered. "We want Seath, no one else. Your family will be safe, I swear it."

Suspicion wavered with a flicker of hope in her eyes. "You expect me to believe that? That we will be allowed to walk away should Seath hand himself in? How can I believe anything you say?"

His expression remained unmoved as he shifted his weight from one side to the other. "Believe what you will, but this is your only chance to show some sense and save those you hold most dear. Think of your children. Think of their future. Will you deprive them of a mother and father simply because your pride is too great to control?"

She did think of her children, Lyon and Lyanna. Their faces filled her mind, innocent and hopeful, deserving of a better world. A world free of the evil their mother grew up under, evil that deprives children of their parents. The memory of her father being taken and disappearing into the night resurfaced with painful clarity.

Her heart ached, the weight of her choice pressing heavily upon her. With a sudden burst of emotion, she grabbed the writing board and flung it away, the board clattering against the roots of the weirwood. Their promises are as empty as their hearts.

The silence that followed was thick and oppressive. Alester did not react outwardly, his expression remaining muted. He merely watched her, his eyes betraying no emotion.

"So, this is your decision?" he questioned calmly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Her breath came in heavy, ragged bursts as she contained the fire within her. "I will not be your pawn any more than I already am," she declared. "Not for anything in this world. Tell Harren that."

"You realize the consequences, then? Not just for you, but for those you hold dear."

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "Do you think I don't? Do you think I haven't weighed every possible outcome? You ask me to betray my own blood, to lure them into a trap. I would rather face his wrath a thousand times than live with that guilt."

For a moment, he stood silently, the weight of her words hanging in the air. "You are a brave woman," he finally said, his tone devoid of sarcasm. "But bravery often leads to folly. It kills more than it saves."

She had nothing left to say. "Limp back to your hole and leave me in peace," she snapped, turning her back on him and dismissing him with a flick of her wrist.

Alester murmured, glancing up at the sky through the dense canopy of the weirwoods. The setting sun bathed the sky in a golden hue. "I hope you don't come to regret your decision."

With a motion of his hand, he summoned an armed man who had been lurking behind the tree line, a scar slashing that touched the corner of his left eye. "Take the lady back to her chambers. Clearly, she's had a bit too much fresh air."

"I am allowed to remain outside until the first star appears. That was the arrangement," she protested, her voice rising as she squared her shoulders and took a defiant step forward, her fists clenched at her sides.

Alester remained unmoved. "I am altering the arrangement," he replied coldly. "Pray I do not alter it further."

Rolf's grip was rough and unyielding as he seized her arm. She bent quickly, grabbing her fallen cloak from the ground and clutching it tightly. Fury boiled over as she was dragged past Alester. A low growl escaped her lips, and she turned to see him watching her leave, red leaves falling slowly around him.

He's laughing at me, she thought bitterly.

Unable to contain her anger, she raised her arm and extended her index and middle fingers, clutching the rest into her palm. Rolf saw the gesture and tightened his grip, causing a sharp pain to shoot up her arm.

"Mind your manners, wench," he chided, his voice harsh. "You'll only make it worse for yourself."

Jeyne winced but locked her defiant gaze on the lame spymaster until the trees finally obscured her view. The cawing of a raven echoed in the air, followed by the flapping of wings, she could not see it, but its call followed them until they left the godswood. Waiting for them when they existed, a journey within itself as the grounds covered twenty acres or so, more than capable of fitting Raventree within, were a dozen other guards and beyond them a bustling scene only able to be described as a city of soldiers.

The yard was packed with activity. Soldiers and levies milled about, some tending to their armor while others practiced with swords and spears. Thousands of horses stood tethered in rows, their breaths steaming in the cool evening air. Wagons laden with supplies creaked under their burdens as servants scurried to and fro, unloading food, weapons, and other necessities. Blacksmiths worked tirelessly at the forges, the rhythmic clanging of hammers on anvils ringing out as they shaped weapons and armor. The acrid smell of molten metal mingled with the scent of horse sweat and wood smoke.

The barracks and smithery were large structures befitting the scale of an ego as large as Harren Hoare. Men came and went in a steady stream, a constant stream of black. It was overwhelming. She had never seen so many men gathered in one place; she felt as if she was in the heart of evil itself.

To the left stood the imposing Hall of a Hundred Hearths. Though it boasted its name grandly, only thirty-four hearths warmed its vast interior. The great hall loomed, its stone walls echoing the sounds of distant laughter and clinking tankards, its massive double doors open for all the world to see and enter so they wished, and many did, a thick mass of people loomed near it.

Above it all, the curtain walls and five towers of Harrenhal loomed like oppressive mountains of stone, casting their long, dark shadows over them all. They seemed to stretch endlessly into the sky, and the walls had no end, thicker than entire holdfasts put together. A singular feeling filled her whenever she saw them. Dead.

How do we even hope to breach this place? Harren could seal himself within, surrounded by his ample supplies, and not even a ten-year siege would leave a mark on these walls.

She wanted to slap herself for entertaining such doubts. They will come for me, she assured herself, and they will kill Harren. In time, I will see Jason once more and kiss him, and I will see Seath. If she had the strength to face him without bowing her head in shame for dragging them into this nightmare.

Would Seath allow me to fly with him, just once? Surely he will leave us when everything is settled, and I may never get another chance. The idea of soaring above it all, if only for a moment, gave her a sliver of comfort that pushed her forward.

Rolf rattled off beside her, his voice a constant stream of drivel about things she could care less about. It felt as if his charge was not only to drag her around like an animal but also to kill her of boredom. His droning covered the goings on of the barracks, the drills, and the latest gossip among the soldiers, each word a sharp irritant to her frayed nerves.

They passed the east gate and Symond's Tower, named for a brother who ruled over the Wall in the far north. As they entered the middle ward, which was alive with activity due to the war games being held, Rolf paused his monologue to ask, "would you prefer to go to the bathhouse?"

Jeyne's patience snapped. "That might be the most asinine suggestion I have ever heard."

"Merely attempting to offer some comfort, my lady," he retorted.

"If I desired suggestions on bathing, I would ask a dog, for they are cleaner than Ironborn," she shot back.

"I am no Ironborn," Rolf said. "I'm fisherfolk, just like you." The term stung, she didn't like the word, a common phrase among the smallfolk, turned derogatory by the Ironborn, and he knew it. "I merely wondered if you wished to scrub away the day's pressures before being locked once again."

Mockery laced her response. "Oh, thank you ever so much for your concern."

"No need to thank me, my lady," Rolf replied, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "The pleasure is all mine. After all, I do enjoy watching over you in the bath."

She bristled at his words. "Charming. Yet what do I expect from a muckdweller raised up by Harren?"

He tugged at her. "Harren is a great man, a ruler of strength and vision. And I am no commoner. I'm landed, my grandsire given land by Harren's grandfather."

A lowly noble who aspires to lordship. This place truly is a haven for upstarts.

He spat on the ground near her feet, his words harsh. "You ain't no different from me. We bleed the same, you and I."

"No," she replied, her voice icy. "We are not the same. My ancestors contended with the Kings of Winter, ruled the Wolfswood, and were kings of the rivers and hills, holding sway down to the Blackwater. You are the seed of some illiterate who could lick Ironborn boots better than others. Nothing to be proud of."

Rolf's grip tightened further, but he said nothing, the anger simmering in his eyes as they continued through the fortress.

They reached the tower where her chambers resided, a looming structure christened the Tower of God, in honor of the Drowned God. She supposed that it was a fitting name, for Harren himself resided at the very top, her chambers located several dozen floors or so below his.

As they began the arduous climb up the many steps, Rolf continued to prattle on about his lands and holdfast, a simple thing, and how his grandfather had earned it. Jeyne drowned out his voice, her mind retreating into a place where his words couldn't reach her.

Frustration crept into his tone. "Lord Alester is right, you know. Your silence will win you nothing."

She turned her head slightly, her tone icy. "I apologize if I do not care to hear your entire life story and all the rest. It holds no interest for me."

Rolf's grimace. "You have more thorns than a rose. Try not to pick the wrong hand, you may get pruned quicker than you think."

The rest of their climb was in silence.

Her chambers, though spacious, were little more than a gilded cage. The windows were barred to prevent any thoughts of escape or desperate leaps to freedom. The room had been meticulously stripped of anything that could be used for self-harm – no glass, no sharp objects, nothing that could be turned into a weapon. Even the furniture was sparse, devoid of any adornments that might be broken and used against herself or others.

Guards dominated the floor, always stalking the massive hall, or stationed at every end. No one was allowed to see her without express permission, each visit scrutinized and approved by her jailor's watchful eyes. The bed was plain but serviceable, the linens rough against her skin. A small table and chair sat by the window, where she could eat under the close watch of her captors.

As she stepped inside, Rolf released her arm. "Rest well, my lady," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of mockery. "I shall see you on the morrow."

He stepped back, closing the heavy wooden door behind him with a resolute thud. The sound of the key turning in the lock echoed through the chamber, sealing her in once more. Jeyne stood, listening to Rolf's footsteps fade away, replaced by those of the guards, leaving her alone once more.

She moved toward the barred window, pressing her hand against the cold iron bars. The vast expanse of Harrenhal's grounds lay below, vast even from this height, with the activity of soldiers and servants faint and looking more like ants bustling about. She sighed, her shoulder falling slightly, feeling the gnawing feeling that is isolation creep around in and around her.

The sun had dipped below the horizon when her second and last meal was brought to her. She was happy at least that Harren had a Riverlander's taste. The tray held a bowl of hearty venison stew, thick with root vegetables and savory herbs, the aroma filling the room. Beside it lay a crusty loaf of black bread, perfect for sopping up the rich broth. There was also a wedge of sharp white cheese and a small dish of pickled beets. A flagon of spiced ale completed the meal, its warmth spreading through her as she took a tentative sip. Despite her circumstances, the meals allowed her an escape to a better place. However, being watched as she ate was uncomfortable enough to keep her grounded in reality.

When she had finished her meal, taking one last long draw of ale, the servants tidied up quickly. One girl tended to the dying fire in the hearth, stirring the embers and adding a few logs to keep it burning through the night. Another collected the empty dishes and wiped down the small table, ensuring everything was in order. A final servant straightened her bedding, smoothing out the linens and fluffing the pillow.

"Time to change, M'Lady," said the eldest of the servants, holding out a clean nightgown.

With a sigh, Jeyne stood and allowed them to help her out of her day clothes. She felt the cool air against her skin as they efficiently removed her garments and slipped the nightgown over her head. The fabric was soft, too soft for this place.

Once she was dressed for the night, the servants quietly finished their tasks. They gave a respectful bow and quietly left her chamber. The door closed with a heavy thud, the key turning in the lock, sealing her in once more. The warmth of the fire and the lingering taste of the meal her only comforts as the shadows of night enveloped the room.

Jeyne grabbed the one book she had been allowed – a tome about Ironborn history and the Hoare kings of old. She moved closer to the fire, seeking its warmth and the good light it provided. It was too early to retire, and the flickering flames offered some comfort as she settled into the chair.

The heavy book rested on her lap as she opened it to the marked page. She traced the letters and said them in her mind, Qhored Hoare. The name felt bitter on her tongue even in thought. The name was well known throughout the Riverlands, it being almost as infamous as Harren's'.

The Justmans were good kings, she thought. Though their dynasty had been short, far shorter than the Mudds before them, they had proved good rulers. Their end would prove to be the last time a good family ruled the realm. The Teagues that followed them were a sorry bunch, upstarts who believed that mere steel gave them the right to bear a crown once bore by Tristifer the Hammer and Benedict the Just.

Jeyne sighed and closed the book with a snap. The history was too rage-inducing, too filled with tyrants and murderers, living under one was enough for her. She did not need to read about others when Harren's shadow loomed so large over her present.

Before lying down, she knelt beside her bed and bowed her head, closing her eyes. Old Gods, hear me, she prayed silently. Grant me the strength to endure these trials, and the wisdom to find a path to freedom. Watch over my children, Lyon and Lyanna. Keep them safe from harm. And guide my uncle, husband, and dear friend Seath in their fight against the Ironborn heathens. Let justice prevail and let us see the light of better days. Return to us that which was stolen from us.

Moving to the bed, she pulled back the rough linens and slipped under them, the fabric coarse against her skin. The fire's flickering light cast shadows on the walls, the dancing shapes like waves of the sea against the walls. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, willing herself to find peace.

Sleep came fitfully, shadows of her thoughts chasing her through restless dreams. A noise at her door suddenly woke her, the sound of someone trying to get in. Dazed and confused, Jeyne rubbed her eyes, blinking against the darkness.

She almost shouted to ask who was there, but stopped herself, knowing instinctively that it could only be Harwyn. His presence was unmistakable, restless, and aggressive against the door. She could hear his swears and curses, muffled but menacing.

Holding the sheets up like a shield, she listened intently. What is wrong with him? The guards patrolling the halls were talking, their voices a low murmur against the prince's demands. She strained to hear their exchange.

He has a key, why is he trying to break down the door? Hesitantly, she climbed from the bed and crept to the door, pressing her ear against the cold wood.

Harwyn's voice was clear and chilling. "Give me your key you bloody fool, don't make me repeat myself."

"We have no key, my prince," one of the guards replied calmly. "Only the maids who attend her and Towers possess keys."

Harwyn's voice rose. "What? What utter nonsense. What if the whore were to set the bloody chamber aflame with those bed sheets of hers? I can hear the fire crackling in there. Who lit it? How can you have no keys?"

"Twas Lord Alester's decision, Your Grace," one of them explained. "He alone deemed who should hold the keys."

"Fuck!" The banging on the door resumed, more insistent and desperate. "Jeyne, open the door! Open it for me!"

"It's locked from the outside, Your Grace. How will the lady open the door?"

Jeyne could hear the slur in Harwyn's words.

He's drunk.

Her heart raced as she listened to him unsheathing a sword, the sharp sound sending a chill down her spine.

"Highness, my sword!"

The next sound was steel meeting wood. Jeyne scurried away from the door, her mind racing. She grabbed the heavy chair and stood behind it, her heart pounding. The door shuddered with each blow, but it was too thick to yield quickly.

The noise outside escalated, with more guards arriving and shouting to restrain the drunken prince. After what felt like an eternity, the commotion finally quieted down. Silence settled over the hallway, but Jeyne remained tense, gripping the chair tightly.

Hours passed before she allowed herself to relax and climb back into bed. Tonight, at least, she was safe from him. The flickering light from the dying fire cast long shadows on the walls, and she lay awake for a while, her heart gradually slowing to a steadier beat. Eventually, exhaustion overcame her, and she drifted into an uneasy sleep.

Soon, she thought. Soon they will all be dead. All of them.

141

Beebos

Jun 2, 2024

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Threadmarks Chapter 16

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Beebos

Bless King Maegor

Jun 10, 2024

#594

I looked down at the armored soldier beneath me, his eyes wide with fear and defiance. My talons, sharp as the finest steel, pierced through the gaps in his armor with ease. The heat of my breath washed over his face, the stench of blood and shit strong on him. He struggled, his hands feebly grasping at my scales, but it was futile. With one final, savage twist, I ended his life, his body going limp beneath my claws.

There's no taking shit back when everything hits the fan. My enemies didn't care for mercy, so why should I? I've seen it, heard it from others, and been the victim of it. What did Jeyne do to deserve where she is now? I hated it so much. If they wanted me, they should have just come after me – damn cowards. The scent of the kill was intoxicating, and I shivered in reaction. If I had the stomach of Wraith, I would devour him, but not now, not ever.

The battlefield around me was littered with the bodies of fallen men, the ground stained with blood and scorched earth. The clang of steel against steel had died down, replaced by the guttural sounds of the dying and the victorious. The remaining enemy stragglers were given no quarter; the Tully men cut them down without hesitation. I watched as a swift sword thrust felled one through the mouth while another had his throat slit from behind before he even realized someone was there. A third, attempting to flee, was caught by a thrown spear that pinned him to the ground.

I watched the scene with grim relief. The smoke from the skirmish still hung in the air, mingling with the acrid scent of charred flesh. I counted my blessings for finding Tully in this chaos. By sheer luck, I had flown in this direction on a whim, driven by an inexplicable urge to see if I could catch sight of them. And there they were, just as I had hoped.

Lost in thought, a voice came beside me, breaking me from my daze. "Well done, Seath," he said. "This victory is ours, thanks to you."

I turned to look at him, recognizing Edmyn Tully's red hair and beard. His blue eyes, still sharp and focused, were staring into mine. The blood splattered across his armor, and the weary set of his shoulders told the story of a man who had fought fiercely for survival.

"Me? You give me too much credit, you guys were fighting for your lives out here, I just swooped in and helped. This is your victory, not mine."

He gave a grim smile, wiping his blade on the cloak of a fallen enemy. "You give us too much credit, friend. Honestly, this day belongs to you. If not for you, this could have ended very differently." His gaze swept over the battlefield, taking in the aftermath.

"Try not to think about it. You're alive, that's all that matters."

Just as Edmyn opened his mouth to say something else, a rider galloped up, urgency etched across his face. "My lord," the rider panted, "we've spotted another group approaching from the south. They could be friends."

Edmyn's eyes narrowed. "Send scouts to confirm their numbers and intentions. If they show signs of hostility, prepare to engage." The rider nodded and sped off to carry out the orders.

Turning back to me, Edmyn's expression softened. "I'm grateful you came flying this way. But I can't help but blame myself. Had we left Riverrun quicker, we wouldn't have been caught in this ambush."

I shook my head, meeting his gaze steadily. "Don't be too harsh on yourself. It's better to be safe than sorry. It's because you took the time to gather men that we're standing here now. Rushing would have left you open."

Edmyn sighed, running a hand through his blood-streaked beard. "Perhaps you're right. Still, I can't shake the feeling that we could have avoided this."

"Enough about that," I turned toward where this supposed new force was coming from. "Now, let's see who these guys coming our way are."

Without another word, I spread my wings and launched into the air, quickly rising to a reasonable distance. The wind rushed past me, and I scanned the landscape below. Sure enough, many miles down the trail, a column of men was heading our way. My heart thundered for a moment, fearing another fight so soon after the last.

As I flew closer, the details became clearer. Relief washed over me as I recognized the banners fluttering in the breeze – Piper and the Vances of Wayfarer. Allies, not foes, thank God.

I circled above them once, hearing cheers from below, then turned back towards the rapidly reorganizing Tully force. Landing smoothly, I folded my wings and approached Edmyn.

"We're in luck. It's the Pipers and the Vances. Reinforcements, not enemies ."

Edmyn's face lit up with relief, smiling wide. "Thank the gods. Come, let's greet them!"

On the banks of the Red Fork, we greeted Devin and old Archibald Vance, who were mounted on their steeds. Archibald eyed Edmyn up and down as we approached, taking in his bloodied armor and the weariness etched into his features. "By the gods, Edmyn," he remarked with a wry smile, "you look like you've been through the Seven Hells and back."

Edmyn chuckled, though it sounded more like a weary sigh. "Good to see you once again, my lord Vance. Tis a shame it must be during a time of war. We've had our share of troubles, but Seath here made sure we lived to see another day."

Archibald turned his gaze to me, nodding in acknowledgment. "Well met, Seath. It's good to see you once more. Your timely intervention is much appreciated. Seems we've all had a rough go of it lately."

Devin spoke up. "Aye, Archi speaks true. You're not the only one who's had run-ins with the Ironborn. We've encountered a few bands ourselves. Thanks to the size of our forces, however, we've been able to keep them at bay."

I turned my head, looking at the nearby tree line. "The Ironborn are like rats or roaches," I muttered in their heads, my eyes scanning the shadows between the trees. "No matter how many you kill, there always seem to be more."

Archibald nodded in agreement, his expression grim. "Aye, ever since their forts were torched to ruins by those two dragons, the survivors have scurried into the hills. They resort to cowardly tactics now, attacking our rear when they can."

Devin added, "They're a nuisance, but we'll deal with them in time. The real danger awaits."

Old man Vance spoke again. "I wonder, Seath, if you're unable to beckon those two behemoths back. Their presence would do much to end this conflict."

I shook my head. "They're not like me. They don't care about any of you, trust me. The most I was able to get from them was that."

"A shame," he said, looking disappointed. "No matter then, we still have you. Come, Edwyn, let us gather now and march on, let us go greet old Hoster!"

Soldiers regrouped, tending to their wounded and preparing for the next leg of their journey. Edmyn approached me, concern etched on his face. "Will you leave us now and return to the main force, or do you intend to stay with us?"

"My original intention coming this way was simply to scout and maybe catch a glimpse of you," I replied. "Now that I'm with you, Devin, and Archibald, I'm considering my options. I've been tempted to try and meet with the minor lords in the area. The land is riddled with small holdfasts and castles. There's one several miles south, on the other side of the river."

Edmyn's eyes narrowed in thought. "You mean the Lychesters? I've never met their young lord, and I doubt they would be of much help. They're a small house."

"I was thinking of them, yes," I admitted. "But if we're to gather allies, maybe I should go north. Shawney, Paege, and Vypren are in that direction. I'm told they're older houses with larger armies that can be massed."

He nodded slowly. "That's a sound strategy. Those houses would provide more substantial support than the Lychesters. But at this point, ravens make for better communicators. We've been fighting for some time now, anyone who doesn't rise at this point should consider migration to the Iron Islands."

That got a laugh out of me. Edmyn's eyes sparkled with amusement and relief, a smile breaking through his stern expression.

"It's good to hear you laugh, my friend," Edmyn said, gently touching my wing membrane. "These days, we could all use a bit more of that. Return to Hoster and tell him we're on our way. We'll reunite in a few days' time."

I gave a node. "Stay safe. Give Archibald and Devin my goodbyes."

With that, I launched myself into the air, mighty wings beating against the wind as I ascended. Rounding back, I circled my friends and let out a mighty roar echoing across the former battlefield. Below, my allies responded with roars and cheers, their voices rising in unison.

"Hail Seath!"

"To Seath, our savior!"

The Tully men were especially emotional, their voices ringing with unbridled enthusiasm. "Seath! Seath! Seath!" they chanted, their cries echoing all around.

The sight and sound of their support filled me with renewed determination. I soared higher, leaving the Red Fork and its surrounding lands behind, heading east toward the fort. The sky stretched out before me, vast and open, as I rose higher and higher, the landscape below shrinking into a patchwork of greens and browns.

Is it vain of me to love their cheers? The warmth of their adulation filled me with pride. The sensation was intoxicating, more so than I would have liked to admit; something about people cheering you made you feel powerful; it was hard to describe.

Alexander, Caesar, Charlamagne – had they felt this same rush when their names were shouted from the throats of their soldiers? I stopped myself mid-thought and chuckled. Who am I to compare myself to them? There were more pressing things to think about.

Some days ago, we received troubling news from Harrenhal. Thank God, nothing about Jeyne, for silence was better than an outright answer regarding her. Harren had officially acknowledged our rebellion and condemned the actions of everyone involved, from those like Hoster, Edmyn, and Devin to the lesser vassals under them. It was a typical proclamation outlining why the lords' rebellion was unjust and a violation of all the laws within the realm as if he cared about the laws.

The troubling news was that within that proclamation, Harren listed his supporters. The majority were lesser gentry houses that could only claim the status of landed knights or baronies if the title were to be applied here. However, among them were listed houses Goodbrook, Mooton, and Darry. I knew little about them, aside from what Jeyne taught me, which was that Mooton ruled a de facto city. Apparently, those houses have considerable strength, which, combined with Harren's force in Harrenhal, can edge us out should we fight fairly without Frey or Mallister.

With them, many of our plans were thrown into the air. Now, I wonder whether sitting out is the best idea. We should start taking places, land, and money and raising hell. We should do this now while we have the initiative. I'll try to breach the idea with Hoster.

After hours of flying, the fortress finally came into view. The familiar gathering of men and the sprawling encampments brought a sense of relief to my heart. I began to fly lower, surveying the bustling activity below.

The camps outside the fort were teeming with life. Blackwood, Ryger, and my peasant militia's armies were spread out in a crescent formation around the settlement. Luggage trains snaked through the camp, wagons laden with supplies and other essentials. On the outskirts, I could see the familiar section where the camp followers resided, along with another area where a few families lived, having accompanied their husbands or sons.

As I flew over the camp, I noticed the banners of minor houses that had joined us in the weeks following our taking of the fort. Some had brought a few hundred men, while others could muster less than that. Yet, every addition meant something; hope was in the air.

The horn blowing the moment I descended below the clouds continued to ring out, signaling my return; cheers rose from below, not saying anything in particular, just shouts and cheers. I turned to look at the construction taking shape, spanning the Red Fork that we were nestled close to.

The bridge was an impressive sight, though still in the early stages of completion. Wooden beams and planks were being steadily placed, forming the skeleton of a masterpiece. The framework extended halfway across the river, a sight to behold. Men moved like ants, each with a purpose: hauling timber, hammering nails, and securing ropes.

The bases of two square towers had taken shape on either riverbank. Wooden scaffolding surrounded these nascent fortifications, allowing the builders to climb and work at different heights. Three outlooks were planned to span the entire bridge length at even distances, giving archers leverage they wouldn't have at the lower level to rain down arrows on any approaching enemy. They were in the early stages of construction, with platforms just starting to rise above the bridge's skeleton. The chain mechanism, which would be pulled up should Ironborn longships attempt to navigate between the gaps of the pillars, was still a concept taking form, with blacksmiths hard at work; fortunately, the chain itself was being hammered into creation.

I looked on in pride. That's my baby down there, taking form, coming to life.

Well, not totally mine, but I explained the idea, and after some debate on whether it would be worth the time and resources, the leaders, excluding myself due to a conflict of interest, went ahead and greenlit it.

I need to find Tybolt and thank him for helping out. Without him, I would have looked like an idiot trying to make this work.

I landed smoothly in the courtyard, a small crowd forming mere seconds after my landing; I regarded them with nods.

"Lord Seath!"

"Welcome back, my lord."

"Hail, Seath the Mighty," a voice called out, earning a few murmurs of agreement.

"Commander Seath," another chimed in, giving a crisp salute.

After a few moments, the crowd parted, and Jason stood before me. His face lit up with joy, and he spread his arms wide in a welcoming gesture.

"Seath! Good to see you've returned safely," he called out warmly. "How was your venture? Kill any Ironborn for me?"

"Jason." I greeted back. "Did I kill any Ironborn? You already know I did, just for you. I try to be a man of my word. But hey, look, I did something far more important than killing Ironborn. I found the Tully, Piper, and Vance forces. They're on their way, they'll be here in a few days."

Jason's face lit up with excitement. "That's fantastic news! Finally, for a moment I thought they would never come."

I glanced around the bustling courtyard. "I need to tell your father immediately. Where is he?"

"He's in a council meeting," Jason replied, pointing towards the main keep.

"Oh? What for? What's happened while I was away?"

"A rider from Lord Donnel. He's marching towards Fairmarket, he intends to take it."

Oh? That is news.

"Fairmarket? That's a city, correct?"

"No, not a city. But it might as well be. Fairmarket has walls and spans across the Blue Fork. It supports a decently sized garrison and has been an Ironborn seat of power for decades now."

"Walls, huh? That's concerning... if we're not going to be moving anytime soon, that might require my attention. I can take out walls easily, at least the men on the walls."

"Don't fret," he said. "The Freys are also making their way south. They'll support the Mallisters in their siege, each force on either side of the river."

"Hm... well, I guess that will do. If they do need my help, though, I'll fly straight there."

"I believe they will manage. I would pray you stay with us; we'll be fighting the true struggle down here. Goodbrook, Darry, and Mooton joining with Harren is nothing to scoff at."

"About that. How sure are we of that? How do we know the man isn't lying through his teeth?"

"Very sure," he said. "Lords Goodbrook and Darry already reside at Harrenhal, they've done public displays of affection and have sworn to kill all Harren's enemies. Mooton being much further away than those two has yet to arrive there, but he nears, and when he does the Ironborn will move."

"It just doesn't make sense... somethings up. Harren must have something they want. Whether land, hostages, or something, they can't be doing this because they have genuine affection for the man."

"Only the gods know," Jason replied, shaking his head. "Some men are driven by fear, others by greed. Harren's promises of power and wealth can be tempting to those with weaker hearts, with nothing at stake. And then there are those who believe his strength is unchallengeable, thinking it wiser to bend the knee than to stand against him. Regardless, it matters not anymore. The reality is that he has their support, and we don't."

"Then we better pray that when the time comes, they see reason and turn on him. At least until the forces up north can be freed. Now, Jason, I've been thinking, what do you think about us moving from-."

A new voice rang out loud. "Seath!"

Ah, shit. What now?

I turned and saw Benjen running our way with a striking bow. The bow was made from weirwood; its pale, almost ethereal wood was smooth and elegant, and intricate carvings ran along its length.

"Benjen," I greeted warmly, noting the excitement in his eyes. "It's good to see you."

The teen lit up, his face beaming as he caught his breath before me. "Likewise. How was your scouting?"

"Good. As I was telling Jason here, I found the Tullys, Pipers, and Vances. They'll join us soon here."

"Amazing! I apologize for not greeting you when you arrived. I was practicing with the bow," he said, holding it up for me to see. "I can't wait till we fight; I want to prove myself able."

"Prove yourself? Calm down now, we don't you getting yourself into danger now."

Jason echoed my sentiments. "That's what I've been telling him. Has someone been saying something, Ben? You don't need to prove anything to anyone. War is no game, there's nothing boastful about it."

"What do you know of war?"

"Someone has been saying something, then? Give me the name."

Benjen bristled at his words. "No one. No one has said anything. I want to do this; I want to prove to myself that I can be useful in this war."

"You are useful," Jason said, stepping closer to him. "You're a skilled rider, the best I know. Scouting is where you can best prove yourself."

"Bah, I loathe scouting," Benjen muttered, rolling his eyes.

Jason turned back to me, his eyes pleading. "Seath, speak some sense into this boy. He needs to hear it from you before he gets himself killed."

"Don't get him involved in this!"

I turned to the young man. "Benjen, what's going on? Where's this coming from? I thought we all agreed to be careful, not to take any risks, especially you."

He settled his brown eyes on me, his face telling of offense. "Am I not allowed to fight? I'm a man grown, as old as uncle when he came into lordship. There are men here as old as me and even younger!"

"Are their names Benjen?" Jason interrupted. "Are they my cousin?"

"What does that matter?"

Here they go.

Looking around, several people were turning to look at the unfolding scene, averting their eyes when I met their gaze. This needs to stop now.

"Alright, alright," I said, slapping my tail on the ground, stopping their argument dead in its tracks. "Benjen, tell me right now what the issue is. Be truthful with me, I know when you're lying."

Benjen took a deep breath, his eyes hardening with resolve. "I want blood. I want vengeance. For my father and for my sister. I refuse to stand by and do nothing while they go unavenged."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "But your sister is alive, Ben."

"For how much longer?" he shot back.

Jason stepped forward, his voice stern. "Don't talk like that, Benjen. What's wrong with you?"

Benjen furrowed his brow, his face a storm of sorrow. For a moment, he said nothing, his thoughts and feelings running wild within his head. Then he sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I'm sorry," he muttered, avoiding our eyes.

With that, he turned and walked away, his head bowed, and the weirwood bow held loosely at his side.

Poor boy, I wish I could make him feel better, but what words could I say to ease the pain of his loss and fear for his sister? It's my fault, after all; it would be like a slap in the face were I to try and say anything. I'm surprised he doesn't hate my guts.

I'll make things right.

Rubbing his temple, Jason sighed.

I turned my head slightly, looking down at Jason's form. "Don't be so harsh on him. He's going through a lot."

"He isn't a boy anymore, Seath," Jason said, his voice strained. "He's correct about that – he's a man now. It's time he's treated like one."

"Man or no, he's hurting. Surely of anyone here you can understand what he's feeling?"

Jason's face crumpled, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Of course I do. I love that woman more than anything. She's the mother of my children, my friend, my other half." He paused, emotion breaking through, his tears glistening in the evening light. "I'm afraid, Seath. Deathly afraid."

My heart ached at the sight. Lifting my wing, I laid a gentle 'hand' on his back, feeling his shudder as he leaned against it. "Afraid of what?"

"Of losing her," he said, his voice cracking. "I don't want to face a world without her. I can't bear the thought of it. Every day I open my eyes it feels like I'm just waiting for someone to tell me she's gone. I fear leaving my bed for I fear facing the truth. I don't want to. I so desperately don't want to."

For the first time in a very long time, I saw memories that were not my own. They belonged not to Seath but to a human from a distant place. I saw visions of a woman I once loved, a daughter and son, and grandchildren running through a field of flowers. I watched as they all grew older, the seasons changing around them.

The children became adults, forging their paths, while the grandchildren grew into vibrant young souls. Once so full of life and energy, the woman I loved began to grow frail. I saw her bedridden, her once bright eyes dimming, her strength fading. She became weak, unable to rise from her bed, her spirit confined to a failing body. Emotions not felt in a long time resurfaced, and my heart wept.

"Jason," I began, choosing my words carefully. "I know that nothing I say will bring you comfort in this trying time. We all want her to be safe, and I more than anyone... but why torture yourself? Why suffer?"

"What are you trying to say?" he asked, his voice tinged with pain.

"What I'm trying to say," I continued gently, "is that there are things we desperately don't want to happen, but that we have to accept. Life is sweet but it can also be rotten and terrible. The worst lesson in life is that there are people we can't imagine living without, but whom we must eventually let go."

He wiped a tear from his cheek. "I... can't help but feel like I'm failing her, like there's something more that I should be doing. How do you accept something like this? How do you keep going when it feels like your heart is being torn apart?"

"You keep going because that's what they would want. They would want you to live, to find happiness, even in the face of such unbearable pain. It's not about forgetting them or moving on as if they never mattered. It's about honoring their memory by living your life to the fullest, carrying them with you in everything you do."

I pulled him closer to me. "It's okay to feel what you feel; it's far from a sin. But don't let it consume you. In time, the pain will become more bearable, and you will find a way to live on, not just for yourself, but for her and your children too. But remember, she isn't lost to us yet. She's still out there, waiting to be saved."

Jason looked at me, his eyes still glistening. "They say the older a dragon is, the larger they are," he said, a faint, weary smile tugging at his lips. "But you speak like you've lived a lifetime, Seath. Thank you," he said quietly. "I appreciate your wisdom more than you know."

With a final nod, Jason turned to leave. "I have duties to attend to. Take care."

I watched him walk away, hoping that my words had provided some measure of comfort and strength. As he disappeared into the bustle of the camp, I couldn't help but feel like I should have brought up the idea of marching, but oh well. There is still time, not much, but time to bring it up before we become desperate.

I made my way over to where my militia was gathered. I hoped they did as I asked, though I would be far from sad if they didn't. Justin, the commander of the militia, stood out among them. His large frame and fiery ginger hair made him an unmistakable figure.

As I approached, Justin turned to greet me, a broad grin spreading across his face. "M'lord Seath! Tis good to see ye back," he called out, his voice booming.

I nodded. "Thank you, Justin. I trust you've been keeping everyone in line?"

"Of course," he replied with a chuckle. "These lads are eager to prove themselves. We've been drilling every day, just as ye commanded, and their progress is good. They're starting to look like real soldiers."

I glanced around at the assembled militia, noting their improved stances and the determination in their eyes. "You've done well," I said. "Keep it up. We'll need every bit of that strength in the days to come. Now, did you do that one task I asked of you? The shields?"

Justin nodded, his grin widening. "Aye, we did. They're still at it. Come, let me show ye."

We made our way to an area where men and some women were seated on the ground, marking the shields with crosses or the Chi-Rho symbol. The air was filled with the scent of paint and the murmur of focused work. Pride swelled within me.

"Look at 'em," Justin said, gesturing toward the workers. "They've really taken to it. The shields already painted with the symbols look right fine."

I marveled at the sight. May You give us victory just as you did Constantine.

"You've done an excellent job, Justin. I'm very proud."

Justin's eyes sparkled with excitement. "There's summat else I want to show ye. A surprise." He called over a woman from the group, and together, they unrolled a green banner. It bore the image of a double-headed dragon, one head white and the other black.

"The black represents your sister," Justin explained, his voice filled with respect. "We thought it fittin' to honor both of yer in our banner."

I stared at the banner, emotions swirling within me. It had been some time since I thought of Wraith in a meaningful way, but now she rushed to the forefront of my mind.

I have so much to put in order when this all ends. It's almost overwhelming.

"This is... incredible, Justin. Thank you. It means more than you know."

Justin grinned, pleased with my reaction. "We stand with you, M'lord. In this fight, and in every battle to come."

--

Just as sunset approached, I stumbled upon a force several hundred strong making their way north toward the southern bank of the Red Fork. At first, I thought that the cousin branch of the Vances had made up their minds, but my hopes were swiftly crushed when I realized that the banners being flown were of a red stallion upon a golden escutcheon on brown. The sigil of House Bracken.

Ah, shit.

Now I regret not trying to meet them sooner; they're marching in force right towards us. Their presence here could only mean trouble. I turned north and made a mad dash back to camp, the dying light casting long shadows over the land. Hoster was an early sleeper, retiring a little too early for my liking, but I managed to get him just as he laid his head down to rest.

"Are you certain?" He was skeptical; that much was clear. Though I wonder how much of that was due to him being awoken so suddenly.

Within the hour, the camp was alive with activity. The soldiers assembled into their formations, and the air was filled with the clinking of armor and the murmurs of anticipation. We positioned ourselves along the bank of the Red Fork, a broad and deep river. Its waters glistened ominously in the fading light, a good natural barrier.

We were lucky this section of the river was like this. A little further downriver, it's shallow; here are our archers, and I would route them with ease.

As darkness settled in, the Bracken force emerged on the opposite side of the river. The sight was awe-inspiring and daunting—an army of a couple thousand strong, the red stallion fluttering in the evening breeze. They moved with purpose, forming their battle lines with horns blowing a clarion call that echoed across the water.

My dragon blood boiled within me, demanding I fight.

Calm down, Seath. Calm down.

After what seemed like an eternity, instead of a charge or the blaring of horns announcing the beginning of the battle, a single rider rode forth from the Bracken ranks, waving a white banner. I almost fell out of the air in surprise. These were the infamous Brackens? I was almost disappointed... almost.

Curious about this unexpected turn of events, I flew down to where Hoster and the others were gathered, landing softly and folding my wings. The tension among my allies was palpable.

"This has to be a trick," Jared Ryger muttered, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "The Brackens aren't known for their talking."

Jason nodded in agreement. "Aye, Lord Jared's right. We can't trust them."

Willem added, "We have a clean shot of the rider, my lord. Give the word, and our finest archer will deal the first blow. End this farce before it starts."

Hoster stood silent, his face pensive as he weighed their words. Benjen, for once, was quiet, his eyes fixed on the rider with the white banner.

After a moment, Hoster spoke. "I will cross the river and parley with them."

Everyone erupted in protest, their voices overlapping in a cacophony of concern and disagreement. "You can't be serious!" Jared exclaimed. "You're walking into a trap. Once you cross, we can't help you."

"I refuse to draw first blood," Hoster replied firmly. "I wont give him an excuse. If he want's a fight he will have to start it."

Seizing the moment, I connected all their minds through a mental link; they all slightly cringed at the feeling, as it was so unexpected. "I will go," I volunteered.

The immediate surge of concern from my companions washed over me. "Seath, it's too dangerous," Jason argued. "We can't afford to lose you."

I laughed, the sound echoing in their minds. "I'd like to see them try to kill me. An arrow in the eye? There's no one better suited for this task than me. I have no stake in your feud, and my presence alone will ensure caution on their part."

Hoster hesitated, concern etched on his face. "Very well, Seath," he agreed. "But be careful. We'll be ready if anything goes awry."

I nodded. "I'll be fine," I assured them. "Let's see what the Brackens truly want."

With that, I spread my wings and took to the sky, crossing the vast expanse of the river with powerful strokes. Below, the Bracken rider watched my approach; the white banner still held high. As I landed on the opposite bank, the tension in the air was palpable, but I remained resolute, ready for anything.

The rider approached hesitantly, glancing over his shoulder as if seeking encouragement. When he came close, his eyes were wide with awe and fear. "Are you Seath, the white dragon?" his voice was trembling slightly.

I linked with his mind, letting him feel the presence of my thoughts. "What do you think? "I replied. The man shuddered, backing away several paces. "What is the reason for this parley? What do you want?"

The rider steadied himself, summoning what courage he could. "I... I am here to speak with Lord Hoster Blackwood. My lord, William Bracken, wishes to speak with him."

I narrowed my eyes, my presence looming over him. "Unless Lord Bracken steps forward himself and promises he isn't going to play any dirty tricks, he will have to deal with me. I'm what you're getting."

The rider nodded, his fear palpable. "Wait here," he said, turning his horse and riding back toward the Bracken lines.

Moments later, two men rode forward. The first was a rugged man, his gray hair receding and face lined with years of experience. The second was a young man, strikingly handsome with a mane of fiery red hair that fell past his broad shoulders. They stopped a short distance from me, the older man raising a hand in greeting.

The rugged man examined me for a moment, his eyes narrowing in scrutiny. Then, to my surprise, he broke into a broad smile and swore. "By the gods," he exclaimed, turning to his son, Morgan. "Argyll wasn't lying; a dragon truly saved him."

I tilted my head, confused. "What do you mean?"

William chuckled, still looking at me with amazement. "Some months ago, a cousin of mine was on his way to be hanged. That was until two dragons swooped in and saved him and the others we was chained with."

The memory clicked into place. Oh, that. So, this cousin was among the men I saved from Wraith's stomach. "I recall that," I said.

He nodded. "You have our thanks for that. But I must say," he added, glancing at the army on the other side of the river, "it's a shame you've joined forces with the Blackwoods. You're wasted on them."

I shut him down with a firm tone. "What do you want? What's with the army? To fight? "

William shook his head. "No, we don't seek battle today. We wish to talk. Bring Hoster over here, and let's discuss some things."

"How can we be so sure you won't try anything? You two don't have... the friendliest history from what I've heard."

William's response was blunt. "You can't be sure," he admitted. "But you must trust me. Unless you can peek into my head, there's no other way. But let's be honest, dragon – you could end my life with but a gust of fire if I tried anything untoward. No?"

I nodded slowly. "Yes, I could."

He continued, his tone sincere. "Very good. Now, bring the old raven over here and let us speak as men, with honor, and no tricks. I swear."

I considered his words carefully, then turned to look back, linking with Hoster. "They wish to speak with you. They seem sincere. What do you say? "

Quietly, almost like we were on opposite sides of a tunnel, his voice came to me. "Truly? Now that is a surprise... very well, I'll hear what he has to say. Come for me."

With little trouble, Hoster climbed onto my back; all the while, everyone begged him not to go. They didn't stop until I added my voice to the matter, stern and authoritative, the first time I ever spoke to them in such a way. It felt good.

Flying back across, I landed gently before Bracken and his son, still mounted. William smiled upon seeing the old lord slide down from the base of my neck, landing with a grunt.

"Old friend," he greeted, his voice overly friendly.

Hoster was not amused. "Friend, is it?"

"I thought you'd be pleased to see me," William continued.

"The last time we saw each other was at the feast at Fairmarket, five years ago," Hoster retorted. "You went on a drunken tirade about my family stealing your lands and insulted me in front of everyone. Then you tried to throw an empty ale cup at me."

William's smile didn't waver. "Aye, the stealing part is true," he said, his tone cheeky. "But that is not why I am here."

Hoster narrowed his eyes, his patience thinning. "If you're here to rehash old fairy tales, William, this conversation ends now."

Morgan interjected, "Lord Blackwood, please-"

But William raised a hand, silencing his son. "Silence, boy," he said firmly, then turned his attention back to Hoster. "I am not here to agitate you, Hoster. I swear it before the Seven Who Are One. No more games." With that, William dismounted and stretched out his arms, his posture open and vulnerable. "Let us talk in good conscious. I have come here with good intentions."

"And what would those intentions be?"

He lowered his arms and approached. "I wished to lay eyes on this army you've mustered. I heard about that niece of yours. I will not lie, I was stunned. Yes, even I was stunned. Some said Prince Harwyn took her and now intends to make her his salt wife-"

I hardened at the mention. A salt wife was the lesser wife of an Ironborn, taken during raids and kept as a concubine, treated as near property rather than a true partner. It was a practice that, among many, stubbornly refused to die out even as the world around them changed.

"Others said Harren himself intended to marry her, to replace his late wife," William continued. "That a pretty little bird had caught his attention, one too beautiful to ignore. The minstrels say he plans to crown her as his queen, that his black heart seeks to possess her light."

"All nonsense," came the unamused reply. "His Ironborn stole her away as if she were some animal. There was no warning, no reason given. One moment she was within our walls, and the next, she was gone."

A grave expression crossed William's face as he sighed. "Harren tells a different tune. His proclamation declares you as rebels, claiming that House Blackwood has conspired against the crown, inciting unrest among the Riverlands. He accuses you of plotting to usurp his rule and defy the natural order."

Eyes narrowing, the response was sharp. "I've read his lies. It's nothing more than a desperate attempt to justify his tyranny. I have no intention of crowning myself king over others and I have no intention of marching to Harrenhal with anything less than my army at my back, and with Harren's head as a departing gift."

A soft chuckle escaped William as he pulled out a missive. "I wonder when that will be. You look quite comfortable here." Handing it over, the broken blue wax seal bearing Harren's sigil was visible. "Here, read this."

Hoster took the missive and began to read while I moved closer, hovering over his shoulder to glimpse the letter myself. William, meanwhile, voiced what had bottled up. "How in the hells did you manage to get a dragon, one as intelligent as him?"

Hoster didn't look up from the letter. "Frightened, are you?" he said with a smirk. "I assure you he fights with us because he wants to."

"I prefer if Valyria remains on that island where they live."

Hoster's eyes scanned the letter, his face calm and unreadable. "Well, isn't Harren generous," he said with a hint of irony, handing the missive back to William. "He backs your side of history, promises to return 'what was once yours' if you join him and help crush the rebel lords. How magnanimous of him."

He looked directly at William, his tone steady and probing. "So tell me, William, why not take his offer? It's everything you and your family have ever wanted. To see House Blackwood crushed and our lands yours. What stops you from seizing this golden opportunity?"

"Why should I? I have no love for a king who taxes us to bloody starvation. A man who believes himself entitled to all our goods, harvests, and homes. He promised my family security and respect, then raised camps and built a fortress on my land. Those Ironborn dogs even once quartered in my castle with impunity, eating my food, drinking my wine, and defiling the sanctity of my halls. When I wrote to him to demand answers for their conduct, he didn't even have the decency to reply. Instead, he sent the Leech's words in his stead. 'Those are Kings' Men,' it said. 'Their actions are justified.' I will not act like a dog called to kneel to that man."

"Then join us," Hoster said, leaning in. "Let's rid ourselves of this king and his pests. Let us do what should have been done a century ago."

William's expression turned coy. "And why should I? I came here to see, not to fight."

"Then why bring an army?"

"The roads are unsafe," William replied with a shrug. "I like to ride in strength."

As the two went back and forth, I decided to peer into the old stallion's head. Delving into William's thoughts, I sifted through layers of clutter, searching for the truth he was too proud to say. Beneath his bluster and bravado, I found a kernel of hope – a beautiful nugget of gold amidst the heap.

I reached out to Hoster. "Or perhaps he came hoping to see if we truly have the strength to challenge Harren," I suggested.

Hoster's eyes flickered with understanding, and I could sense his renewed confidence as he continued to engage with William, who grew quiet upon hearing his rival's words. It was the first time I had seen such an emotion from the brash lord.

William walked past Hoster, his steps heavy with contemplation. Together, they stood at the river's edge, looking across the water that held our allied forces. The setting sun cast a golden glow on the rippling surface, a beautiful sight.

His expression hardened, uncertainty etched into his features. "How certain are you that you can win, even with a dragon? Harren has three grown sons, each as ruthless as their father, and a strong army despite the razing of his many strongholds. And when the isles come bearing men as well, it is certain that you will die."

Death is certain either way... to die a slow death is to delay the inevitable.

"Whether it comes slowly or swiftly, it does not matter. Death is certain either way. We may lose our lives, lands, and everything we hold dear... but what if we win?"

I nodded in approval.

Who thought of that? I asked wryly.

His reply came quickly, with a slight laugh laced in it. You have a way with words, my friend. How can I not steal from you?

With a deep breath, William nodded, turning. "We would not be friends. I will not answer to you or take your orders. Our families have been at odds for generations, and I do not forget the blood that has been spilled."

"Neither do I." Hoster said, extending his hand. "Truce?"

William clasped his forearm. "For now. When do we march?"

144

Beebos

Jun 10, 2024

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