From the Lips of Flayed Men - GoT AFFC Spoilers
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Exactly what Roose is thinking. Also, why? Are you not a fan? Is it glitchy?
Thank you very much!
May I ask what is the event you are referring to? It has been much time since I played within the Iron Throne and cannot remember anything like that.
Also, it's sad to see Edmure leave "this"world. He seemed to have lived a succesfull career in this time-line
In a recent game I played with the Game of Thrones mod, I got an event where my character and several other high ranking nobles got called to King's Landing, to vote on whether or not the king could declare a war for no reason.
I was very surprised by Edmure to be honest. He managed to escape Westeros, reach Mereen and somehow convince Daenerys to wed him. His only failing really was that he loosed two of her three dragons. Why though, may well be explored later if I get the chance.
Yes! It is this one.
Hoping to put out an update tomorrow!
Act III - An Age of Blood
Chapter XIII - No Small Council
Roose looked up at the Red Keep as he and his party rode through King's Landing. The journey had been long, but the massive red towers and walls rising up like nothing he had ever seen made the month on the rode worth it. The walls were massive, standing proud with marks and gashes torn from sieges past. Before him, riding through the main street of King's Landing, were four towers standing sentry over the causeway extending over a sudden drop. The two closest to the gate were larger and mounted with a rolling mound to deflect, rather than collect missiles in a siege. The smaller had a simple wooden lattice stretching over their top to shield the sentries from little more than the sun. Both were covered in arrow slits to better defend the Kings and Queens of Westeros, though it had been some time since last the Keep came under a direct assault that breached the walls. In fact, that would have been in Robert's Rebellion, though Stannis himself had brought the Keep to siege.
"Whoa!" Brenett exclaimed from beside Roose. The Flayed Wolf turned to look at his Stark brother and a smile grew on his face. The boy was 14 and soon would be a man. He was of fairly average build for someone his age, but he had developed some muscle through his sword training, though he never took it particularly to heart. His brother saw him but looked back, mouth agape at the fortress. He had a strong face, much like Roose imagined the Starks had in ages past, and in imitation of Roose, his brother had taken to shaving his head. It had almost become something of a bond between he and Eddard as Roose's son left a strip of cropped hair running the center of his head, while Brenett had taken it all off.
He wore a chainmail vest beneath his linen surcoat died white and with a grey Direwolf pin over his heart. The coat came up and cut out partway up his chest, where it was lined with a black wolf fur. Beside him rode his wife, Princess Cassana, daughter of the late King Arthor Karstark. She was a pretty girl, but devoted much of her time to prayer in the Godswood and ate little, restricting the curves Roose suspected she was naturally gifted with. She wore a simple blue travelling finery, as Roose had only deemed his guards and the Lords of his party dress in mail.
"Strong walls." Came Eddard on Roose's other side. "How many men man the keep?" He asked, already astute to the matters of war at Roose's insistence.
"5,000 strong lads from the South." Roose answered.
"Or about a 1,000 Northmen." Bannen chuckled. Roose turned to see his old friend. He had gotten older, and maybe even a little fatter, but was still the same as last they'd met. He'd suffered the tragedy of a few stillborn children however, and only his first son Mors lived in the halls of the Sheepshead Hills. Mors was here, a lad of 8 if Roose remembered and he rode alongside Eddard. Such as it was, Eddard clearly stuck out in his red finery and the flayed men dyed into the cloth on his chest, with Brenett in white on his left, and the Baines in white on his right, though they at least had the red tear drops of a Wierwood to tie them together.
"Big men fall just as quick as little lords." Eddard answered. "If the Gods decide." Unlike Brenett and Bannen, Eddard rode alone. His sisters had not come, nor Lady Kyra after some discussion in the Dreadfort. So it was that the heir to the North followed in step behind his father.
Along the outside of this inner party rode the Dreadguard, the retainers, the servants and the few merchants and travelers who had joined the party on the road from the North. An arduous journey that oft proved the old adage of safety in numbers.
They rode on and the boys talked amongst themselves as Bannen spoke with Roose about having never been to the Capital before, and about how it was a comfort for their wives that they arrived with sons in tow, so as to discourage a bastard being discovered nine months hence. For his part, Roose smiled but couldn't bear the thought of betraying his wife, his love. She waited for him, and he would return to her as soon as he could. Finally, the party split as Eddard, Brenett, Roose and the Dreadguard crossed the causeway and their companions dispersed to their quarters within the city. Accommodations had thankfully been arranged.
"Could you take this keep Father?" asked Eddard as they crossed into the courtyard and witnessed inner walls rising higher than the outer. Somehow in the red stone they had blended together when they had ridden so close but now, it was impossible to miss. No doubt the Red Keep was the most formidable fortress outside of Harrenhall. Roose considered the question and glanced around at the defences.
Finally smiling he turned to his son and brother. "I'd rather not. It would be a bloody siege and I don't imagine the fighting would stay at the walls. Any good commander would send ravens and call for aid to strike the army outside the walls as they sallied forth."
"But could you do it?" Eddard asked, insistent. Roose had earned a reputation as one of the finest commanders in all the realm, which surprised him as he had so far only fought in small wars by his own reckoning. That didn't mean he was keen to prove it though.
"How would you do it?" he asked. Eddard looked around, finding himself confused on how to strike. He scanned the walls, the battlements, the towers and all the sentries before turning round and looking at the outer walls, the causeway, the open gate and the gorge just beyond the walls the kept the city at bay.
"Starve them out." He said with a shrug of his shoulders.
"They have stores to outlast you while the reinforcements come." Roose said. "Try again."
Eddard looked down as they finished crossing the bridge and started on the inner gate. "Dragons!" he exclaimed, beaming.
"No. They are in Essos with Daenerys Targeryan." Roose answered, though he could appreciate the attempt.
"I'd sneak into the castle. A few men could scale the wall. That's what they did in Robert's Rebellion!" Brenett exclaimed.
"Who did?" Eddard asked, dumbfounded.
"The Mountain and Lannister men!" Brenett answered.
"How could a few men scale those walls!" Eddard asked, pointing up high.
"You would know if you read like Maester Thurgoode told you." Brenett answered.
"And you might be able to last a minute against me with a sword if you practiced like Father told you."
"Enough!" Roose called back, feigning his annoyance. It was good to let them compete every now and then. It did them both better, so long as they kept it under control. Besides, a band of Lords stood arrayed and waiting for them. Roose recognized them immediately from their colours.
There was Luthor Tyrell in a chainmail and gold tunic emblazoned in green trim that flowed out and behind his legs like cloaked armour. The cloak itself contrast well with golden roses on a green field. Beside him stood an older man in plate and a scribe.
On his right was Robert Arryn, with a full thick beard and he was dressed in a sky blue finery, fiddling his hands together and looking far off as though into a great distance. Beside him his wife who looked with steely eyes at the Northmen as they approached.
Further on was Dickon Martell who stood in fine Dornish wear with two women behind him, one a Summer Islander and another with fiery red hair. Both were armed, though the darker had a firm look on her face. The woman of red hair had a sultry grin and bit her lip as Roose drew closer. Beside them was Donnor Greyjoy who stood proud and bald in a long grey simple cloak. Beside them was Lewis Piper, the oldest of all the Lord Paramounts, who had just ascended to rule the Trident, and he sat in a wheel chair with his heir standing behind him, sword at his side and full plate shining in the sun.
Last among the arrayed Lords and most magnificent of them all was the Queen, Myrcella Lannister with Lord Commander Daemon Darkholme and Lady Paramount Brienne at her side.
The Lord Commander stood in his gold and white armour, emblazoned with the Crown and with his hair neatly combed back, and together with the Lady Brienne in dark blue plate, they towered over everyone else in the courtyard - each close to 7 feet tall. But even next to them it was Queen Myrcella who stole Roose's attention and that of the two boys behind him.
She wore a deep crimson shirt that fit so tight against her body that it might as well have been paint that covered her arms, but was low cut and met a matte golden corset that pressed her breasts up and firm against her body, drawing the eye. Farther down the crimson finery split and covered her front and rear but allowed her legs to peer out from the sides as she moved towards them, swaying her hips and hiding shapely legs only by a see through golden vale. A belt of gold and red threat entwined hung around her curved figure, and upon it was a long golden sheath lined with rubies and the golden hilt of Widow's Wail. She had piercing blue eyes and golden hair that was weaved back in a long braid, fully showing the scar on her left cheek that had claimed that ear. She had full lips and smiled as she saw the awe on Roose's face as he looked her up and down and then again, before catching himself and bowing his head.
The boys behind him caught themselves after their father and bowed in unison.
"Welcome! Honoured Guests and Warden of the North!" Myrcella said with a gentle and soothing voice.
"My Queen, we came as soon as we recieved the raven." Roose said, raising his head and dismounting his horse to kneel. She looked at him for a moment and though he couldn't see, bit her lip as she stepped towards him and allowed one leg to creep beyond her skirt and rest behind the clear golden vale.
"Rise, Lord Bolton." she said. He raised his head and found himself looking directly at her leg and finery. He glanced only a moment before he stood to his full height and looked down at her, a few inches taller. She extended her hand and he kissed it softly.
She smiled at him stepped forward to put her arm around him and usher him into the Keep.
"Come" she said. "You must be tired from the journey."
That day I arrived in the Keep was an experience I will never forget. Myrcella, the most beautiful woman I had ever seen greeted me and ushered me to my chambers where we spoke at length of all things. The troubles that had plagued the North, the latest rebellions I had crushed, the goings at the Wall, Daenerys across the sea, and the horror of the War of Five Kings that must never be repeated. We discussed my marriage to Kyra Flint and hers to King Dickon Martell and by the time either of us found the time, it was well into the night, and yet it felt like it had been only a moment.
Brenett and Eddard were already asleep by the time I went to check on them and it took some time to realize just where all the day had gone. Fortunately though we had arrived in good time, and now were able to hold a council of the Small Council, and of all the Lord Paramounts in Westeros. Officially it was to correct the many wrongs and troubles that had plagued the realm for some time and to better work together for the betterment of the realm and the binding of the Great Houses, after the great events that rocked the country for so long.
That was when I heard from Donnor in one of the Council sessions of the new Age we lived in. After much debate, the Maesters in Oldtown were unsure whether, with the migration of the Dragons to Essos and the absence of Targaryen rule since Robert's Rebellion, that the Age of Dragons, just like the Age of Seven Kingdoms, the Age of Valyria, the Age of Heroes and the Dawn Age had come to an end. Roughly half the Maesters counted for the new Age, and half against. The Age of Blood, so named for the Wars and calamities that had plagued Westeros since the end of Robert's Rebellion, was upon us, according to many.
They were quickly shown to have some merit as the Council agreed to attack Braavos and seize gold intended for traitors of the Crown to finance the reconstruction and peace of the country. As one of the more capable Lords, I was given command of a force assembled in King's Landing and quickly led the army on a campaign, striking most of the port towns and cities before we crossed to Braavos itself for a few months, though the city itself escaped fighting.
Lady Brienne was also given a command, as well as King Dickon, though his army was largely under orders from Daemon Darkholme as pleased the Queen herself. During the war, Brenett and Eddard accompanied me and the three of us saw many strange customs across the Narrow Sea. As I had hoped, exposure to the wider world proved beneficial to young Eddard and he understand the need for justice, as I had tried to impress upon him many times before.
From my friends in the North, I managed to keep informed of events that concerned me, and it wasn't long before I was forced to rush my campaign and return to Kings Landing. We arrived with much fanfare and though the Queen bade me to visit her and tell of my exploits and the strange foreigners beyond the sea, I was compelled to return North with all haste. Much to my surprise, my duel with Jon Stark had come to the fore again and as I read the name on the message, I remembered.
The Cassel woman who whispered to the man beside her. Lady Beth Cassel, Lady of King's Course. Sending word ahead, I ordered the Dreadguard dispatched but it was too late. Word had reached her from an unknown friend and she had prepared for their arrival. The twenty men I had sent were all returned to the Dreadfort some time later, headless. By the time I had arrived though, Beth had called her banners, and I was all too willing to do the same.
I didn't inform the High Lords or send ravens for aid. I raised the armies of Winterfell and the Dreadfort and within a week had stormed her Keep and dragged her back to the Dreadfort. Much as I wanted though, I couldn't be confident that I had ended the conspiracy. The man with her was still a mystery to me, though her husband Mark was dragged in chains to my dungeons as well. Would that had been the end of it. Instead, I soon found that old friends make the best of enemies.
News reached me of Alys' betrayal but at first I could not believe the reports. She had launched the war to make me Lord Paramount, and now she struggled against me when all I had done was repay her gratitude in good faith? Hours in my study did not help to unravel the mystery. Eventually I took to wondering if it was Prince Ramsay who had been sitting next to Beth Cassel, but under torture or promise of reward I gleamed no answers from her. Surely, a man who would kill a King and his brother at that would have been capable of any number of intrigues. It would have also proved the link between Lady Cassel and Lady Karstark, but there was no evidence to be had. With enough confidence in my own strength of arms if nothing else, I reconnected with my family at the Dreadfort and consummated my reunion with my wife. It had been many months since last we met and in the presence of Myrcella, I had ached for my wife more than I had in all my life. The night was long and sleepless and it was many hours the next day until we emerged from my chambers. Finally, it felt as though the Tourney of White Harbour and its terrible secret was at least easing on my shoulders.
Given my wife's station as we became convinced that she was with child once again, I wrote to the Queen and informed her that I would be remaining in the North for a time. She lamented my absence but understood as she had heard of a brief rebellion, and with my explanation of my wife's pregnancy. For nine months then I was left Kyra and my family. Nine months I trained with Eddard and spoke with Brenett about his return to Winterfell. Nine months I spent away from the Capital, and in nine months I had forgotten the beauty that was my Queen.
I soon heard again that Queen Myrcella had won the backing of the Council to attack Pentos, and so it was that the Lion roared and the lands beyond the Narrow Sea trembled. This time, I remained in the North but followed the war and the exploits of Brienne and Daemon Darkholme as they sacked the trade posts along the coast and brought war to Essos as their ships made landfall. Again the war was brief, with none of the Free Cities able to withstand the might of a united Westeros.
Some time after the unexpected birth of my twins, Myrcella called on me again.
Lady Brienne was stepping aside from her post as Master at Arms after so long in the Queens service and given our history, had advised the Queen to raise me to the station. Admittedly I was excited at the opportunity, but concerned also. Peace had ruled the realm in the years since the Council was formed under the Queen, but instead we had exerted our anger on those beyond the Narrow Sea. Was this truly the price of peace? A war on foreign soil to bring them to heel? In truth though, my doubts went deeper. In the Queens presence I had been prone to all manner of desires and thoughts but now, it had been so long since I had seen here after returning to the North, and the war in Braavos, I was almost afraid to expose myself to them again. Kyra hid her fears but I knew she had heard tell of Myrcella's beauty and no doubt worried too. Of concern to us both was also the time away I would spend from the family. If I traveled to King's Landing again in service to the Queen, it could be years before I returned home and at 30 years of age, we both knew that many years apart would do neither of us well.
Despite these misgivings, I knew I could not deny my Queen and penned her my reply.
Before I could return however, I made sure to rectify one wrong that I had yet to redeem within the North.
A Stark must always rule in Winterfell.
You've really created an interesting and emotional character in Roose. Every update he intrigues me, and i find many redeeming and negative qualities alike in him.
Great update, as ever, but be careful. Nothing ever goes well when Northmen go South.
Great update, as ever, but be careful. Nothing ever goes well when Northmen go South.
Yeah the characterisation is fantastic. I really like the character you've created, especially the fact he's seemingly turned his back on the way Roose the Elder did things. You have mentioned this before but what happened to Ramsay Snow, the twisted bastard.
Chapter XIV - The Last Dragon
The air was salty and the wind blew strong, more so than Roose had found in King's Landing. But this was a long way from Westeros, and here many things were different. He took another sip of the water in his flask and poured the last bit over the top of his head. His eyes closed in the moment the water trickled down his forehead and through his hair to roll down his cheeks. He took another sip before setting the flask down and flexing his hands against the bannister in front of him, looking at the way his veins coiled round his hands.
"Hot day, even for Mereen." said the man behind him. Roose turned to look at the man in white gold armour and heard his own leather armour stretch with him as he turned. The man had white hair to his shoulders and a beard that ran the full length round his face, whichlooked kind but was unremarkable besides. Only his eyes told his story and they were brown, filled to the brim with the sorrow of failing his life's mission twice in one lifetime.
"Of all the places to found an Empire." Roose mused, glancing around the sandy harbour and looking at the freed men in rags, many of whom still bore the scars of their servitude. "Does it surprise you, Ser Jon? You've known the Targaryans longer than many men have lived." He asked.
"Does it surprise me?" Jon chuckled. "No. They were always a tenacious lot, even when it looked like the Gods had abandoned them." From the zig zagging ramp that led from the harbour to the city itself, they finally could see the banners of the Queen of the Ghiscari Empire fluttering in the wind, proudly bearing both the dragon breaking chains, and the legendary red three headed dragon on a black field. "The Queen approaches." he whispered.
"At last." Roose said aloud, though more to himself. He remembered following her exploits as a child, and remembered hearing how brutal she had become in her campaigns of conquest across Essos. Even if they had been bloody however, the wars had at least secured her Empire beneath her, and taught Essos what it meant to be a free man.
"Did you say something, my Lord?" Jon asked, watching as the seamen rushed about to finish their preparations, and as the Dreadguard formed up along the dock in an honour guard presentable for the Mother of Dragons and their Lord the Flayed Wolf.
"Nothing." he said, too quickly to be convincing. "Tell me what I should know of the Targaryens before I speak with her."
"You haven't studied their histories?"
"I have. I want to hear it from you. You fought in Robert's Rebellion and again with Aegon VI when he tried to claim the Stormlands. You've known enough of them that if something is common, you know it." Roose said, watching as the banners neared and his men rolled out the banner of the red crown on a black field for Westeros, the flayed man on a pink field covered in red drops for House Bolton, the white and red split shield and griffons of House Connington, and the gold lion on a red field for House Lannister. Together, the banners bore the authority and legitimacy granted by Queen Myrcella.
"The Targaryens have a temper. They are committed when they make a course of action, and trying to sway them will only earn their ire. They tend to be cleverer than most and they can be proud, given their history. Really though, Daenerys never lived the life of the men I knew. They were Kings, or raised from birth to be a King. Daenerys though ... she's dreamed of being Queen while she lived a life of begging with her brother. It wasn't until she got her dragons that she stopped begging and that ..." he paused. "From kings to beggars is a hard fall, my Lord. Climbing back as she has makes her all the more impressive. Without an heir though ... she has to know this won't survive her."
"Myrcella has no heir either." Roose said, turning from the bannister and starting down the stairs towards the dock itself as the royal party came into view. "That's why we're here."
"Yes my Lord. But I still don't know if I like this. Daenerys has become a Dragon as bad as her father but with the wits of her brother."
The two men reached the deck on the last step and regarded the royal party, noting only now the red and black litter enroaching behind the half a dozen Unsullied and Dothraki guardsmen advancing as the Honour Guard. The litter itself was large enough to fit several people and mounted with an engraving of a three headed dragon, roaring into the skies, though equally impressive were the brutes carrying the litter itself. Roose thought they must have been as tall as Daemon Darkholme and Brienne of Tarth, and yet twice as strong. A whole pack of men who looked like the Mountain in the stories of the War of Five Kings. Now, waiting at the head of his own guard and even with the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard by his side, Roose wondered just how good of an idea this was.
The Ghiscari party came to a stop some fifty paces from the Westerosi, and a man who looked to be in his 40s or 50s stepped forward at the head of the group. He was dressed in grey scaled armour that covered all his body and around his legs a skirt of chainmail draped out and to the floor. His helmet, as scaled as his armour drew back and down from his face like a dragons snout, and on his forehead a great crest jutted out to each side like a beetle. The only thing beneath his armour that Roose could see were his eyes and they were brown, and empty.
"This one is Grey Worm, Commander of the Queensguard of Lady Daenerys Targeryan the Stormborn, Queen of the Ghiscari, of New Ghis, Mereen, Yunkai, and Astapor, Khaleesi of the Dothraki, Mother of Dragons and Breaker of Chains, Rightful Queen of Westeros, of the Andals and of the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. What has brought you to our Lady?" The man said.
Roose stepped forward, wearing only his leather garb with his personal sigil carved into the chest of the armour. It was dyeless, and before the royal party he seemed something of a beggar, in simple brown armour and with red cloth underneath, only visible along the edges of his armour at his neck, wrists and legs. "I am Roose IV of my Name, the Flayed Wolf, of the House Bolton, Lord Paramount of the North and Commander of the armies of Queen Myrcella of House Lannister, Queen of Westeros, of the Andals and of the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. This man with me is Ser Jon Connington, Lord Commander of her Queensguard, and we have come with a message and an offer for Her Grace, from our lady in King's Landing."
There was silence between them as they looked upon one another. One looked more dragon than man, and the other looked a plain Northman. The Flayed Wolf though looked past him, glancing from one member of Daenerys' party to another, trying to see anything, any reaction to his pronouncement. Then he saw it. Behind the red vales of the grand Targeryan litter, a woman stood and walked forwards, sliding her hand through the material and pulling it aside to look upon him herself.
She was a bit shorter than he was and had smooth skin that covered a slim figure with curves the likes of which Roose had only seen on Myrcella and Perra before her so many years ago. She had long white hair that fell to her shoulders and bordered her face like the mist from a waterfall while on her face were the deep violet eyes that only a Targeryan bore. She wore a red and black dress that coiled up from her waist in three snakes united until they reached her breasts where they split and slithered their own ways, two covering her breasts and the final coiling up around her neck before parting. From her waist there flowed out a full skirt, not the likes of which that provoked a man's thoughts, but the kind that modesty called for, covering and not at all see through. Their eyes met across the expanse, and Roose lowered his head in respect. Queen of Westeros or not, Daenerys Targaryen had carved her own Empire, and after so many years of hearing her exploits, it was an honour to be in her presence.
With his head lowered, he didn't see the Mother of Dragons motion to Grey Worm and slide the vale back across the litter.
"The Queen will grant you an audience, but not today. Come to the Great Pyramid tomorrow at Dawn."
Ice. Ice everywhere and all around.
Rising up like the Mountain Sound.
Flash of Green, flash of light.
The Wall will fall, fall it might.
When Lion drowns and comes once more.
When Maiden falls and climbs in gore.
Flash of Green, flash of light.
The Wall will fall, fall it might.
The sound it shakes, cracks and breaks.
An icy death that Crowbane makes.
The flash of green in Tormunds dream came still and the whispers grew to silence.
"Tormund?" Sigorn asked, his face scrunched up in confusion and concern. Behind him, the others had the same expression on their face. There was Errok, Ygon, Harmond, Larra and Esgred. Of the lot, Sigorn knew Tormund best and had known him longest. It took him a second to recognize the rest of their faces as his vision cleared, as so often happened after the Gods dreams.
"Aye friend, the dreams haven't claimed me yet." He smiled. Sigorn did too at that, as did Esgred and Harmond. The others looked more stern.
Sigorn himself was a man of renown beyond the Wall. He had joined with Tormund of the Giantsbane early, before the ranging of Lord Commander Snow some years ago, before Tormund had even laid his stake to uniting the free folk under his banner and with the White Walkers. Just as Tormund then, his own reward had been a forever life, frozen to time and so cold as to break any iron or steel on the mere touch of his skin. No matter though, they continued to dress in the fur garb of their clanfolk. His own eyes though, always a fire with his temper had not taken kindly to the Gift of Unlife and burned all the brighter in a cold, blue rage that gave him his name, Sigorn Bluerage. None of the others besides them had been given the gift. Even Harmond, some feet away and dressed in the bones and patched skin of the free men who died fighting the Crows, the most devoted follower of the White Walkers and often the one to commune with them was still a mere man, though they had given him greensight. Esgred however, a large beast of a woman who stood a head taller than everyone else in the room had her gifts at birth. It was her size and strength that gave her most value to Tormund, and she was a right bitch in a fight. She wore the stitched furs of a two bears as an overcoat and other furs besides underneath, with a leather belt and pouch on her left hip. So far as Tormund had heard, she filled it with the cocks of the men she raped and killed. Whatever the truth was, he had always found her agreeable and useful besides.
Errok Axebar, Ygon and Larra meanwhile stood a bit farther from him, and each gave Esgred a few feet of space for comfort. Larra was dressed in seal fur with the finest stitching that he had been able to procure beyond the Wall, and had a crown of bone and bitter iron fashioned upon her head, though it was ill fitted and cut her often as she wore it. Ygon, his supposed greenseer who had never shown signs of the sight stood a bit far off in silence as he usually did, with nothing to add and nothing to say. Were it not for Larra's fondness of his friendship, Tormund would have slit his throat and handed him off as another Wight of the Walkers the moment he found out. Errok though, had proven his own skills when he joined the man of giantsbane just under a year ago and carved apart the first man he saw to disrespect Tormund in a duel. Even so, the two had never really gotten to know one another.
"You were gone longer than most often times before. Had it been any longer, I might have tried to wake you." Sigorn said, patting his shoulder.
"What did you see?" Harmond asked, cutting to the point.
"I saw the Wall." He began. "I saw the White Walkers marching on the Wall and I saw the Freemen marching beside them. There was the gate to Castle Black, and as the army came to a halt just out of their range, we brought up a horn." He said with a wide smile. Esgred took a deep breath as Sigorn came to a kneel and Harmond's mouth trembled at the thought. "I saw the Crows charge us, and a pack of Wolves and Bears and a Flayed man attacked us then there was a flash of light and we were atop the Wall, and I fought a crow over the top and kicked him onto Castle Black from 700 feet high. There was another flash of light and then I saw us in the ruins of Castle Black. The Crows fled and we drew open the gates." He stopped to look at them.
"I saw us seize the Wall." he said with a laugh.
"Gods in ice." Sigorn whispered.
"What of the Horn?" Larra asked. "Was it the Horn of Joramund?" she demanded.
"I don't know." Tormund admitted, looked to Harmond as he pushed himself to sit upright on his cot, and the others grabbed chairs to array themselves in his tent. "It must have been. How else would we have seized the Wall? It's all we've been waiting for."
"Aye it's kept us waiting, but with enough blood and iron the Wall will fall." Errok said, a grim expression on his face as he turned to look at the fire, as if remembering something far off.
"Blood is easier to spill than iron is to forge here." Esgred said. "If we find the Horn though then nothing can stop us."
"If that was the horn." Sigorn added. "Mance Rayder claimed to have found the horn. Who's to say he didn't? Who's to say the Storm King and the Red Woman didn't destroy it all those years ago?"
"The Gods would know." Harmond said. Tormund tried to remember more of the horn but there was nothing left in his mind. The vision had faded faster than most.
"And what of the iron?" Errok asked. "We hold it in our hands, we know where it is, it's at our sides and it's in our packs! Lost sorcery isn't going to win this war. Iron wins wars."
"Most of the clans owe us allegiance already." Tormund said aloud, though more to himself as he weighed the option. "But Jon Snow stills lives, and without all the clans we don't have our full strength."
"You fear that bastard?" Harmond asked.
Tormund's smile vanished as his eyes rose to his priest. Sigorn and Errok too gave the old man a glare and rested their hands upon their weapons. It was Tormund though who taught him respect.
"If you did not serve the Gods as well, old man, I would rip out your heart and eat it while you watched with your dying breaths for that insult. As it is, that would displease them." he finished, turning away. "Jon Snow is a bastard, but he's a Commander. He and the Storm King are the last Commanders in Castle Black, but together, with their flashy steel and their flaming sword, half our army would run at the sight of them, and the other half would run at the sight of Ghost." He gritted his teeth as the thought crossed his mind. The thought of an army of cowards fleeing from the heroes of the Wall as they had done when Mance attacked so many years ago. "No, we need all the clans, and we need Jon Snow, if not both he and Stannis dead, to have a chance at breaking the Crows. Between the two of them and our equal strength, we wouldn't make it."
"Equal strength?" Larra asked. "Mance marched on the Wall with a hundred thousand men."
"He had all the clans fleeing for their lives from the White Walkers. We're all that's left of the one's who stayed and survived by pledging ourselves to them. If we can bring together 6 000 men we'll be lucky, and the Freemen who settled the Wall brought the Crows numbers to around 5 000." Sigorn said.
"We still have a thousand more." Larra insisted.
"Aye, and they have the Wall. There's no getting past that with 6 000 men." Esgred said. "It would take a God to win against those odds."
"You have two in front of you." Sigorn said, his deep saphirre eyes alight as his lips pulled back into a smile of jagged, filed teeth.
Daenerys Targaryen looked down from her white and black marble throne on a raised platform as the Flayed Wolf bowed before her. When she had seen him yesterday, he seemed a poor showing for the First Men, given how Archibald Yronwood and Barristan Selmy had looked when first she met them in their full plate. Now though, with his black steel armour, snarling Wolf helm under his arm and grey wolf pelts lining his shoulders in a cloak fit for a King she found a new respect for him. The man was as fierce looking as one might've hoped for the Northmen she guessed, though his companion Ser Jon Connington remained in his same cloak and armour as the day before.
He raised his head and again they locked eyes as the day before. His were brown and dark, and went well with his reddish-brown beard and brushed hair. There was something in his eyes though. Something she couldn't quite figure out, as if it eluded her just as she went to realize it. "Your Grace, it is my honour to meet you." he said in his gruff Northern accent.
"It is my honour to recieve you, Lord Paramount." she said with a smile. His face was not so stern as when he had entered, and his mouth opened to speak before he closed it and looked into her eyes rather than at her face. No doubt, up close he saw the scabbed wound that ran from her ear down her cheek and down her throat to her chest, though it was then hidden by the blue dress she wore that covered more of her skin than the day before. A cold wind had blown from Westeros, and the cooler day warranted warmer cloth. He would notice her right hand shaking too, as if a shiver seized her, soon enough as well though it had begun before the wound as she fought the rebels in New Ghis.
For a moment she was back at the city, riding Drogon and watching as flames engulfed the rebels as they tore apart her Kingdom and butchered her people. her army had marshaled just beyond the Gates and on the insistence of Ser Gaston Piper and Collocquo Zobridar, they would enter the city as soon as Drogon had set the Temple of Fire alight, burning alive the rebel followers of the Red God. That was when it struck, a bolt from the city of strong Valyrian Steel. True, it had only grazed Drogon and sent him into a spiral from the force and shock of it, but the spiral was what had thrown her free and to the city below. Gaston and Collocquo had ordered the gates broken down upon the sight but it was already too late. She was trapped in the rebel city without her dragon, without a weapon, barely more than light armour to speak of and dazed from the fall to a merchants roof and then again to the street below. In truth, she was lucky to have survived the fall. When the Terror of Ghis had hunted her through the streets, she had been lucky to run as long as she had from him, but he found her eventually. She grabbed a sword but he struck it from her hand, and his next swing would have cut her in half if she hadn't fallen backwards. Instead she was grievously wounded, and Gaston arrived to save her. It made her glad she had allowed his presence when her late husband Edmure had so often wished his exile. Clearly, he had resented the new Lords of the Trident.
"My Queen, I come bearing a gift, a message, and an offer from the Iron Throne. Command me which you would take first." he said.
She smiled at him as her thoughts came to the throne room once more. "I would have your message first, for that will no doubt be of import and your offer second, for business should come after greetings. Your gift I will accept last, so as to enjoy it fully once our business is concluded." He nodded his agreement and drew a parchment from his cloak. Upon the parchment was the red wax seal of a crowned lion.
"Queen Daenerys of House Targaryen of the Ghiscari Empire, I, Queen Myrcella of House Lannister of the Iron Throne wish upon you all the luck and fortune in your war against the most vile of rebels of New Ghis and Mantarys. Westeros has seen many wars since the absence of your family, and I fear that more wars on both sides of the Narrow Sea will draw in our armies, and draw them eventually against one another. I see no reason for this to be the case. We are each Queens, and each seek only to preserve our own peoples. They are our children, and it is my hope that with this letter and my offer, that you shall wholeheartedly consider the aid of Westerosi arms in your struggle, and an agreement of peace and understanding between our realms. The Iron Throne shall never again interfere in the affairs of Essos if this agreement is made, except on your request, and so too shall the Iron Throne be free from the interference of the Ghiscari. With such cooperation and agreement on both our parts, may it be that the greatest powers of Essos and Westeros agree to never draw swords against one another, and to live in perpetual peace. As such-" his reading slowed. No doubt, this was his first look at the contents of the message. "the Lord Commander Jon Connington and my own Commander of the Royal Armies, Roose Bolton are at your disposal to do as you so please to hasten your victory against the rebels, as you so desire." he stopped and rolled the paper up slowly in his hands, looking at the floor and drawing a deep breath.
Daenerys rested her unblemished cheek on her palm as she watched the Northman's reaction. "A fine message." she said after a moment. "I too see no reason why we cannot live in perpetual peace. It has been too long and too much now rests with me here to simply return to Westeros. I shall consider your Queen's offer but for now I can see no reason to request your aid. Our armies have generals, and are capable alone. Tell her simply that I accept her proposal and that for the love I bear for my people in Westeros, the Ghiscari Empire will never be the first to strike blows against the Iron Throne." She added with a smile. Grey Worm was still by her side, yet behind her she felt Ser Gaston, the red haired riverland bastard, and Jhogo, the lithe Dothraki Khal shifting their feet in disagreement. Jhogo had been anxious to 'make the eight' and Gaston had longed to return home and take the Riverlands from his half-brother as he claimed his right. If Collocquo Zobridar had been present however, he would have remained still as Grey Worm. The man was Valyrian and had no desire to cross the seas for a realm he didn't know or care for.
Roose nodded and looked somewhat relieved. "Thank you, your Grace."
"My Lord Paramount, I appreciate your sincerity, but I am not your Queen, even for my title and claim. My place is here." she said, a resigned nod confirming her words. It was true, and she had spent long enough trying not to admit it to herself before her wound that now it seemed a clear admission. So long as this remained a private audience, she could relieve her claim for the moment.
"My Lady, if I may, I do not pay you sincerity out of courteous respect. I have listened to stories of your travels and time in Essos since I was a boy. Since before the North was taken from me by a usurper when I was but a babe. I watched and learned as you conquered Slavers Bay and subjugated the Dothraki. I cheered as the Lords of North Valyria bowed to you. I wept for you when Viserion and Rhaegal fled the Pyramid and left their Mother. I have heard tell of you all my life, and standing before you now, here, so far from your home ..." she raised a hand and he barely saw, only realizing as he glanced up from the floor to look upon her briefly.
"My Lord, I have heard tell of you as well. I have heard that one half your family killed the other half and took part in the slaughter of their liege and King as he rebelled against the Lannisters. I have heard that you have flayed your enemies and that you strung up your once liege by his ankles in a Godswood." She softened her tone as she continued. "I have heard that you love your wife and children, and that you are a good father, husband and liege, but a bad enemy, and loyal friend unlike your kin. I have heard that half your blood is stained in betrayal and half is the most noble in the North - and that you have made yourself more of the latter, than the former. These things I hear too, even across the sea." She paused a moment. "And here you stand before me. The Flayed Wolf, the Dread Lord of the North - more respectful and admiring than all my vassal lords and kings." she said with a chuckle.
He smiled briefly. "Would that I could teach them to respect you as I do, your Majesty." She laughed again.
"Come then and tell me what Queen Myrcella's proposal concerns - unless it is your proposal?" she joked. He didn't laugh but rather turned red, and Daenerys knew to watch her jest before her emissary.
"My Queen Myrcella is lacking an heir, my Lady. She knows too that you also have no heir. This is what concerns her proposal. If you would have peace between Westeros and the Ghiscari as you say, then she proposes next to secure both realms for as long as can be maintained."
"And how does she plan to do that?" Daenerys asked confused.
"My Queen Myrcella would name you her heir, should she pass from this earth, so long as you too name her as your heir. It is a Queens agreement to make strong the peace between you, and to secure an immediate heir for both realms until a successor or successors can be decided." he said, now looking directly at Daenerys.
"I am past child bearing." Daenerys scoffed. "Myrcella would ask me to name her my heir so that she can sire a child with claim on my throne? Is it not enough for the Lion to rule my Throne in Westeros, but now it wants my Empire? The lands I carved with my sweat, and fire and blood!" she yelled. Her arm shook strongly and she struggled to keep it still without her other arm, though she couldn't possibly.
"My Lady-" Roose started.
"If I was your Lady, I would have your sword Ser!" she yelled. "You would have slain the Lion and brought me her head rather than this insult!" her body trembled in her anger. "And you!" she glared at Jon Connington. "You fought for my father, for my brother, for my nephew! And now this!"
Jon bowed his head and the old man stepped forward before the Lord of the North.
"Daenerys Targaryen! I have always served your family!" Ser Connington said.
"You have always failed my family!" She yelled.
"I implore you, my Dragon, I have only ever sought your families return."
"And yet you have failed at every turn." she snarled, springing to her feet.
"Seven Hells! I swear by all the Gods your Grace!" Roose stepped back as Jon pleaded, mouth agape at the outburst from his reserved companion. Daenerys stood, shaking and with clenched fists at her sides.
Roose looked upon the Daenerys Targaryen. He wasn't sure if she would order their death or demand their exile from her lands then and there.
The Queen of Ghiscar trembled from her platform and first it was her lips that followed her arm, an obvious tell of the pressure and wear of years carving an Empire of her own with no heir or family to succeed her, knowing that no matter what she did she wouldn't reach Westeros. Knowing that no matter what she did in Essos, her Empire would not outlast her and her people would suffer as it was torn apart. And now the thought of turning her Empire over to the very family that turned on and butchered her own. It was her legs that followed next and she slumped back into her throne, hiding her face in her hand.
"My Queen-" Jon began, but Daenerys raised a hand to stop him. Even from below the steps of the platform and through Jon's ragged breaths, Roose could hear Daenerys' heavy breaths.
Without another thought he drew his sword and swung it round in an arc, halting just as the blade reached Jon Connington's neck. Instantly, Grey Worm, Gaston and Jhogo had drawn their weapons and jumped in front of their Queen but when they saw it was Jon he held at death's door they held back, waiting for their Queen's command. "You asked for my sword, my Queen. You say this man has failed your family twice over, and now that he is Lord Commander of the Queensguard and claims his injustice at the hands of the Gods, you deny him. If you would have his head, I will give it to you here. If you would have his loyalty proven, and my aid in securing Westeros under the Dragon, as I dreamt as a child, then I will drop to a knee and swear it here, by the Old Gods, and the New."
Daenerys eased her breath while slowly drawing her hand back, and Jon lowered his head, not even sparing a glare for either of them. A gentle smile came upon her face, and Roose felt his heart soften as he looked upon it. For a moment, he thought he saw a tear on her cheek - and then it was gone.
"Your Queen offers me the aid of the both of you." She began. "Lord Commander Jon Connington ... You will serve my family again and defeat these rebels. Perhaps on the field" she paused to breath "the Gods will find it in their hearts to absolve you of your curse."
Ser Jon nodded his head and mumbled his thanks as Roose pulled back his sword and slid it into its sheathe.
"Lord Paramount Bolton ..." Daenerys began. "What will I do with you" she mused. "You threaten a Kingsguard to please a foreign Queen and have the chance to return home without issue in his absence."
"Not a foreign Queen, My Lady. The Queen I would have chosen." Roose said. She looked at him and the smile faded from her face.
She said nothing but smiled feintly, resting her head on her hand as though she had a headache. "Tell me, Lord Bolton for I grow weary. What was this gift you would have given me?"
He looked at her. He looked hard at her, unsure as he had been the whole time of what he was about to do. He had committed men to punish the Freys and seize the Twins for the North before he came of age. He had restored the Starks to Winterfell, and had managed to restore a place of honour to his House. But restoring the Targaryen Dynasty? Daenerys had said herself that she could sire no heir, and with her nephew Aegon dead and slain at Storm's End under the watch of Jon Connington she truly was the Last Dragon.
"I offer you one request. One request of anything you desire and is in my power to grant you."
"For what price?" she asked, raising her head and leaning forward.
"There is no price, only a gift."
He stood proud and sure, but for all his battles and all his fights what came next frightened him the more than any of it. He had decided so long ago to commit himself to this that now it seemed a folly. And yet there he stood, heart racing as he waited for an answer. When she finally spoke, it was not what he had expected, nor what he might have guessed.
"When I'm dead, take me to Dragonstone." She said.
"It's where all Dragons go."
The day had been long, and left him weary. The Flayed Wolf would not stay in Ghiscar, that much he knew. Yet still, his work for the day was not yet done.
It was not until he reached the very bowels of the ship, the bottom deck that lay submerged beneath the waves and reached the stocks that he could console himself that it would be over soon.
It was there that Roose had travelled a long journey with two prisoners, all the way from the North, and across the Narrow Sea to Slavers Bay. At first he had thought of selling them into slavery and servitude, but his meeting with Daenerys and all that she had done to free the Ghiscari from their past enslavement made him ashamed of thought. No, there was another way to solve the issue - and so far from Westeros, there were no laws to restrict him.
Here anyway, he could keep his promise from years ago. His promise to Jon Snow in the tourney that no man who sought his lineage would ever be free. That a whisper would earn the conspirators a terrible death. Now, with Maric Locke and Lady Beth Cassel chained in the stocks of The Grey Seal, the Northern ship that he had sent for all the way from White Harbour, it was time to keep the promise.
A swing of his sword let Maric's head fall to the floor and Lady Beth screamed in horror at the sight of her decapitated husband and lover. It was only when Roose unrolled the leather kit full of knives and plyers and various tools from the Dreadfort, not used or seen since the death of his father, Ramsay Bolton, that she screamed even louder.
"Let me go! I'll never tell anyone I swear. Take me away from Westeros! Take me to Asshai and you'll never hear from me agan! Please! I beg you my Lord!" Beth screamed as she writhed in the chains that held her against the ships hull. She was already bloody from the beating his guards had afforded her earlier, and now the blood of her husband had splattered across her face and chest as his head had fallen to the floor, mouth and eyes wide in horror.
Roose was shaking as he set his sword aside and reached for the first knife in the kit, his hand trembling like a leaf. In his youth, he had read his families histories and diaries but there was no set guide on flaying that he had found. No doubt, the banning of the practice had done much to surpress it from the obvious libraries and even his own House, which would have been under further scrutiny.
"Relax ..." he said, speaking aloud to calm himself as his hand trembled like a leaf in the autumn wind. "Relax..." he whispered again. Slowly, Beth's cries turned to whimpers as he hesitated to face her. There was still a chance to let her go, or to cut her throat and be done with it. He'd strung up Brandon by his ankles and left him to do ... no doubt he could even push Beth into the Narrow Sea and leave her to the Drowned God to claim. "Relax ..." he said again, closing his eyes and biting his lip as his hands trembled more and more the closer he came to deciding his next step.
Behind him, Beth's face turned to confusion as she struggled to understand. "Let me go .... please, my Lord! You don't have to flay me like you did Brandon's men! I don't want to be flayed! Let me go!" she screamed. Roose wanted to let her go ... but he tried to be a man of his word, and in a moment of anger that had meant a promise to flay the men who questioned his Stark blood. He didn't want to break a promise, even one like that? Did he?
He took a deep breath and swung around to face her. He had stared down death in his youth. He had fought dozens of battles against Northmen and peasants and Southrons besides. He had fought in Braavos and threatened the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and beaten the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch in a melee. Today, he had offered any gift to the Last Dragon and she had deigned only to have him return her bones to her home when he had prepared to hear the name of his Queen and an order to kill. Surely he could flay a traitor? A woman who had questioned his blood as had frightened him so much and caused so much grief before? A woman who would have thrown the honour of his House and family into the mud for her own curiosity?
His hands stopped shaking and his face turned to stone. The only betrayal of his feelings was the single tear that ran down his cheek.
"Pig's skin." He said.
Lady Beth stared at him and whimpered. "What?" she asked slowly, stuttering through the word.
"When I revolted against Brandon, I cut off their heads and painted their blood on pigs skin the next morning. I never flayed them, but I wanted you all to think I did. Before that, I lied to my best friend and told him I flayed his lover, just to hurt him - before I sent him to the Wall." The admission was a cold one, and he took no relief or worry from it. There was only one reason he was telling her.
He stepped forward grabbed onto her left arm, outstretched and chained above her head. He raised the knife and rested it on the flesh just below her elbow. Looking at the knife he saw a glint and in the reflection was Beth's face. She was scared and braced for the pain. Following the reflection he leaned in close by her ear. "Stay still and try not to make this harder on us both." He said. "I've never done this before."
The air was salty and the wind blew strong, more so than Roose had found in King's Landing. But this was a long way from Westeros, and here many things were different. He took another sip of the water in his flask and poured the last bit over the top of his head. His eyes closed in the moment the water trickled down his forehead and through his hair to roll down his cheeks. He took another sip before setting the flask down and flexing his hands against the bannister in front of him, looking at the way his veins coiled round his hands.
"Hot day, even for Mereen." said the man behind him. Roose turned to look at the man in white gold armour and heard his own leather armour stretch with him as he turned. The man had white hair to his shoulders and a beard that ran the full length round his face, whichlooked kind but was unremarkable besides. Only his eyes told his story and they were brown, filled to the brim with the sorrow of failing his life's mission twice in one lifetime.
"Of all the places to found an Empire." Roose mused, glancing around the sandy harbour and looking at the freed men in rags, many of whom still bore the scars of their servitude. "Does it surprise you, Ser Jon? You've known the Targaryans longer than many men have lived." He asked.
"Does it surprise me?" Jon chuckled. "No. They were always a tenacious lot, even when it looked like the Gods had abandoned them." From the zig zagging ramp that led from the harbour to the city itself, they finally could see the banners of the Queen of the Ghiscari Empire fluttering in the wind, proudly bearing both the dragon breaking chains, and the legendary red three headed dragon on a black field. "The Queen approaches." he whispered.
"At last." Roose said aloud, though more to himself. He remembered following her exploits as a child, and remembered hearing how brutal she had become in her campaigns of conquest across Essos. Even if they had been bloody however, the wars had at least secured her Empire beneath her, and taught Essos what it meant to be a free man.
"Did you say something, my Lord?" Jon asked, watching as the seamen rushed about to finish their preparations, and as the Dreadguard formed up along the dock in an honour guard presentable for the Mother of Dragons and their Lord the Flayed Wolf.
"Nothing." he said, too quickly to be convincing. "Tell me what I should know of the Targaryens before I speak with her."
"You haven't studied their histories?"
"I have. I want to hear it from you. You fought in Robert's Rebellion and again with Aegon VI when he tried to claim the Stormlands. You've known enough of them that if something is common, you know it." Roose said, watching as the banners neared and his men rolled out the banner of the red crown on a black field for Westeros, the flayed man on a pink field covered in red drops for House Bolton, the white and red split shield and griffons of House Connington, and the gold lion on a red field for House Lannister. Together, the banners bore the authority and legitimacy granted by Queen Myrcella.
"The Targaryens have a temper. They are committed when they make a course of action, and trying to sway them will only earn their ire. They tend to be cleverer than most and they can be proud, given their history. Really though, Daenerys never lived the life of the men I knew. They were Kings, or raised from birth to be a King. Daenerys though ... she's dreamed of being Queen while she lived a life of begging with her brother. It wasn't until she got her dragons that she stopped begging and that ..." he paused. "From kings to beggars is a hard fall, my Lord. Climbing back as she has makes her all the more impressive. Without an heir though ... she has to know this won't survive her."
"Myrcella has no heir either." Roose said, turning from the bannister and starting down the stairs towards the dock itself as the royal party came into view. "That's why we're here."
"Yes my Lord. But I still don't know if I like this. Daenerys has become a Dragon as bad as her father but with the wits of her brother."
The two men reached the deck on the last step and regarded the royal party, noting only now the red and black litter enroaching behind the half a dozen Unsullied and Dothraki guardsmen advancing as the Honour Guard. The litter itself was large enough to fit several people and mounted with an engraving of a three headed dragon, roaring into the skies, though equally impressive were the brutes carrying the litter itself. Roose thought they must have been as tall as Daemon Darkholme and Brienne of Tarth, and yet twice as strong. A whole pack of men who looked like the Mountain in the stories of the War of Five Kings. Now, waiting at the head of his own guard and even with the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard by his side, Roose wondered just how good of an idea this was.
The Ghiscari party came to a stop some fifty paces from the Westerosi, and a man who looked to be in his 40s or 50s stepped forward at the head of the group. He was dressed in grey scaled armour that covered all his body and around his legs a skirt of chainmail draped out and to the floor. His helmet, as scaled as his armour drew back and down from his face like a dragons snout, and on his forehead a great crest jutted out to each side like a beetle. The only thing beneath his armour that Roose could see were his eyes and they were brown, and empty.
"This one is Grey Worm, Commander of the Queensguard of Lady Daenerys Targeryan the Stormborn, Queen of the Ghiscari, of New Ghis, Mereen, Yunkai, and Astapor, Khaleesi of the Dothraki, Mother of Dragons and Breaker of Chains, Rightful Queen of Westeros, of the Andals and of the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. What has brought you to our Lady?" The man said.
Roose stepped forward, wearing only his leather garb with his personal sigil carved into the chest of the armour. It was dyeless, and before the royal party he seemed something of a beggar, in simple brown armour and with red cloth underneath, only visible along the edges of his armour at his neck, wrists and legs. "I am Roose IV of my Name, the Flayed Wolf, of the House Bolton, Lord Paramount of the North and Commander of the armies of Queen Myrcella of House Lannister, Queen of Westeros, of the Andals and of the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. This man with me is Ser Jon Connington, Lord Commander of her Queensguard, and we have come with a message and an offer for Her Grace, from our lady in King's Landing."
There was silence between them as they looked upon one another. One looked more dragon than man, and the other looked a plain Northman. The Flayed Wolf though looked past him, glancing from one member of Daenerys' party to another, trying to see anything, any reaction to his pronouncement. Then he saw it. Behind the red vales of the grand Targeryan litter, a woman stood and walked forwards, sliding her hand through the material and pulling it aside to look upon him herself.
She was a bit shorter than he was and had smooth skin that covered a slim figure with curves the likes of which Roose had only seen on Myrcella and Perra before her so many years ago. She had long white hair that fell to her shoulders and bordered her face like the mist from a waterfall while on her face were the deep violet eyes that only a Targeryan bore. She wore a red and black dress that coiled up from her waist in three snakes united until they reached her breasts where they split and slithered their own ways, two covering her breasts and the final coiling up around her neck before parting. From her waist there flowed out a full skirt, not the likes of which that provoked a man's thoughts, but the kind that modesty called for, covering and not at all see through. Their eyes met across the expanse, and Roose lowered his head in respect. Queen of Westeros or not, Daenerys Targaryen had carved her own Empire, and after so many years of hearing her exploits, it was an honour to be in her presence.
With his head lowered, he didn't see the Mother of Dragons motion to Grey Worm and slide the vale back across the litter.
"The Queen will grant you an audience, but not today. Come to the Great Pyramid tomorrow at Dawn."
Ice. Ice everywhere and all around.
Rising up like the Mountain Sound.
Flash of Green, flash of light.
The Wall will fall, fall it might.
When Lion drowns and comes once more.
When Maiden falls and climbs in gore.
Flash of Green, flash of light.
The Wall will fall, fall it might.
The sound it shakes, cracks and breaks.
An icy death that Crowbane makes.
The flash of green in Tormunds dream came still and the whispers grew to silence.
"Tormund?" Sigorn asked, his face scrunched up in confusion and concern. Behind him, the others had the same expression on their face. There was Errok, Ygon, Harmond, Larra and Esgred. Of the lot, Sigorn knew Tormund best and had known him longest. It took him a second to recognize the rest of their faces as his vision cleared, as so often happened after the Gods dreams.
"Aye friend, the dreams haven't claimed me yet." He smiled. Sigorn did too at that, as did Esgred and Harmond. The others looked more stern.
Sigorn himself was a man of renown beyond the Wall. He had joined with Tormund of the Giantsbane early, before the ranging of Lord Commander Snow some years ago, before Tormund had even laid his stake to uniting the free folk under his banner and with the White Walkers. Just as Tormund then, his own reward had been a forever life, frozen to time and so cold as to break any iron or steel on the mere touch of his skin. No matter though, they continued to dress in the fur garb of their clanfolk. His own eyes though, always a fire with his temper had not taken kindly to the Gift of Unlife and burned all the brighter in a cold, blue rage that gave him his name, Sigorn Bluerage. None of the others besides them had been given the gift. Even Harmond, some feet away and dressed in the bones and patched skin of the free men who died fighting the Crows, the most devoted follower of the White Walkers and often the one to commune with them was still a mere man, though they had given him greensight. Esgred however, a large beast of a woman who stood a head taller than everyone else in the room had her gifts at birth. It was her size and strength that gave her most value to Tormund, and she was a right bitch in a fight. She wore the stitched furs of a two bears as an overcoat and other furs besides underneath, with a leather belt and pouch on her left hip. So far as Tormund had heard, she filled it with the cocks of the men she raped and killed. Whatever the truth was, he had always found her agreeable and useful besides.
Errok Axebar, Ygon and Larra meanwhile stood a bit farther from him, and each gave Esgred a few feet of space for comfort. Larra was dressed in seal fur with the finest stitching that he had been able to procure beyond the Wall, and had a crown of bone and bitter iron fashioned upon her head, though it was ill fitted and cut her often as she wore it. Ygon, his supposed greenseer who had never shown signs of the sight stood a bit far off in silence as he usually did, with nothing to add and nothing to say. Were it not for Larra's fondness of his friendship, Tormund would have slit his throat and handed him off as another Wight of the Walkers the moment he found out. Errok though, had proven his own skills when he joined the man of giantsbane just under a year ago and carved apart the first man he saw to disrespect Tormund in a duel. Even so, the two had never really gotten to know one another.
"You were gone longer than most often times before. Had it been any longer, I might have tried to wake you." Sigorn said, patting his shoulder.
"What did you see?" Harmond asked, cutting to the point.
"I saw the Wall." He began. "I saw the White Walkers marching on the Wall and I saw the Freemen marching beside them. There was the gate to Castle Black, and as the army came to a halt just out of their range, we brought up a horn." He said with a wide smile. Esgred took a deep breath as Sigorn came to a kneel and Harmond's mouth trembled at the thought. "I saw the Crows charge us, and a pack of Wolves and Bears and a Flayed man attacked us then there was a flash of light and we were atop the Wall, and I fought a crow over the top and kicked him onto Castle Black from 700 feet high. There was another flash of light and then I saw us in the ruins of Castle Black. The Crows fled and we drew open the gates." He stopped to look at them.
"I saw us seize the Wall." he said with a laugh.
"Gods in ice." Sigorn whispered.
"What of the Horn?" Larra asked. "Was it the Horn of Joramund?" she demanded.
"I don't know." Tormund admitted, looked to Harmond as he pushed himself to sit upright on his cot, and the others grabbed chairs to array themselves in his tent. "It must have been. How else would we have seized the Wall? It's all we've been waiting for."
"Aye it's kept us waiting, but with enough blood and iron the Wall will fall." Errok said, a grim expression on his face as he turned to look at the fire, as if remembering something far off.
"Blood is easier to spill than iron is to forge here." Esgred said. "If we find the Horn though then nothing can stop us."
"If that was the horn." Sigorn added. "Mance Rayder claimed to have found the horn. Who's to say he didn't? Who's to say the Storm King and the Red Woman didn't destroy it all those years ago?"
"The Gods would know." Harmond said. Tormund tried to remember more of the horn but there was nothing left in his mind. The vision had faded faster than most.
"And what of the iron?" Errok asked. "We hold it in our hands, we know where it is, it's at our sides and it's in our packs! Lost sorcery isn't going to win this war. Iron wins wars."
"Most of the clans owe us allegiance already." Tormund said aloud, though more to himself as he weighed the option. "But Jon Snow stills lives, and without all the clans we don't have our full strength."
"You fear that bastard?" Harmond asked.
Tormund's smile vanished as his eyes rose to his priest. Sigorn and Errok too gave the old man a glare and rested their hands upon their weapons. It was Tormund though who taught him respect.
"If you did not serve the Gods as well, old man, I would rip out your heart and eat it while you watched with your dying breaths for that insult. As it is, that would displease them." he finished, turning away. "Jon Snow is a bastard, but he's a Commander. He and the Storm King are the last Commanders in Castle Black, but together, with their flashy steel and their flaming sword, half our army would run at the sight of them, and the other half would run at the sight of Ghost." He gritted his teeth as the thought crossed his mind. The thought of an army of cowards fleeing from the heroes of the Wall as they had done when Mance attacked so many years ago. "No, we need all the clans, and we need Jon Snow, if not both he and Stannis dead, to have a chance at breaking the Crows. Between the two of them and our equal strength, we wouldn't make it."
"Equal strength?" Larra asked. "Mance marched on the Wall with a hundred thousand men."
"He had all the clans fleeing for their lives from the White Walkers. We're all that's left of the one's who stayed and survived by pledging ourselves to them. If we can bring together 6 000 men we'll be lucky, and the Freemen who settled the Wall brought the Crows numbers to around 5 000." Sigorn said.
"We still have a thousand more." Larra insisted.
"Aye, and they have the Wall. There's no getting past that with 6 000 men." Esgred said. "It would take a God to win against those odds."
"You have two in front of you." Sigorn said, his deep saphirre eyes alight as his lips pulled back into a smile of jagged, filed teeth.
Daenerys Targaryen looked down from her white and black marble throne on a raised platform as the Flayed Wolf bowed before her. When she had seen him yesterday, he seemed a poor showing for the First Men, given how Archibald Yronwood and Barristan Selmy had looked when first she met them in their full plate. Now though, with his black steel armour, snarling Wolf helm under his arm and grey wolf pelts lining his shoulders in a cloak fit for a King she found a new respect for him. The man was as fierce looking as one might've hoped for the Northmen she guessed, though his companion Ser Jon Connington remained in his same cloak and armour as the day before.
He raised his head and again they locked eyes as the day before. His were brown and dark, and went well with his reddish-brown beard and brushed hair. There was something in his eyes though. Something she couldn't quite figure out, as if it eluded her just as she went to realize it. "Your Grace, it is my honour to meet you." he said in his gruff Northern accent.
"It is my honour to recieve you, Lord Paramount." she said with a smile. His face was not so stern as when he had entered, and his mouth opened to speak before he closed it and looked into her eyes rather than at her face. No doubt, up close he saw the scabbed wound that ran from her ear down her cheek and down her throat to her chest, though it was then hidden by the blue dress she wore that covered more of her skin than the day before. A cold wind had blown from Westeros, and the cooler day warranted warmer cloth. He would notice her right hand shaking too, as if a shiver seized her, soon enough as well though it had begun before the wound as she fought the rebels in New Ghis.
For a moment she was back at the city, riding Drogon and watching as flames engulfed the rebels as they tore apart her Kingdom and butchered her people. her army had marshaled just beyond the Gates and on the insistence of Ser Gaston Piper and Collocquo Zobridar, they would enter the city as soon as Drogon had set the Temple of Fire alight, burning alive the rebel followers of the Red God. That was when it struck, a bolt from the city of strong Valyrian Steel. True, it had only grazed Drogon and sent him into a spiral from the force and shock of it, but the spiral was what had thrown her free and to the city below. Gaston and Collocquo had ordered the gates broken down upon the sight but it was already too late. She was trapped in the rebel city without her dragon, without a weapon, barely more than light armour to speak of and dazed from the fall to a merchants roof and then again to the street below. In truth, she was lucky to have survived the fall. When the Terror of Ghis had hunted her through the streets, she had been lucky to run as long as she had from him, but he found her eventually. She grabbed a sword but he struck it from her hand, and his next swing would have cut her in half if she hadn't fallen backwards. Instead she was grievously wounded, and Gaston arrived to save her. It made her glad she had allowed his presence when her late husband Edmure had so often wished his exile. Clearly, he had resented the new Lords of the Trident.
"My Queen, I come bearing a gift, a message, and an offer from the Iron Throne. Command me which you would take first." he said.
She smiled at him as her thoughts came to the throne room once more. "I would have your message first, for that will no doubt be of import and your offer second, for business should come after greetings. Your gift I will accept last, so as to enjoy it fully once our business is concluded." He nodded his agreement and drew a parchment from his cloak. Upon the parchment was the red wax seal of a crowned lion.
"Queen Daenerys of House Targaryen of the Ghiscari Empire, I, Queen Myrcella of House Lannister of the Iron Throne wish upon you all the luck and fortune in your war against the most vile of rebels of New Ghis and Mantarys. Westeros has seen many wars since the absence of your family, and I fear that more wars on both sides of the Narrow Sea will draw in our armies, and draw them eventually against one another. I see no reason for this to be the case. We are each Queens, and each seek only to preserve our own peoples. They are our children, and it is my hope that with this letter and my offer, that you shall wholeheartedly consider the aid of Westerosi arms in your struggle, and an agreement of peace and understanding between our realms. The Iron Throne shall never again interfere in the affairs of Essos if this agreement is made, except on your request, and so too shall the Iron Throne be free from the interference of the Ghiscari. With such cooperation and agreement on both our parts, may it be that the greatest powers of Essos and Westeros agree to never draw swords against one another, and to live in perpetual peace. As such-" his reading slowed. No doubt, this was his first look at the contents of the message. "the Lord Commander Jon Connington and my own Commander of the Royal Armies, Roose Bolton are at your disposal to do as you so please to hasten your victory against the rebels, as you so desire." he stopped and rolled the paper up slowly in his hands, looking at the floor and drawing a deep breath.
Daenerys rested her unblemished cheek on her palm as she watched the Northman's reaction. "A fine message." she said after a moment. "I too see no reason why we cannot live in perpetual peace. It has been too long and too much now rests with me here to simply return to Westeros. I shall consider your Queen's offer but for now I can see no reason to request your aid. Our armies have generals, and are capable alone. Tell her simply that I accept her proposal and that for the love I bear for my people in Westeros, the Ghiscari Empire will never be the first to strike blows against the Iron Throne." She added with a smile. Grey Worm was still by her side, yet behind her she felt Ser Gaston, the red haired riverland bastard, and Jhogo, the lithe Dothraki Khal shifting their feet in disagreement. Jhogo had been anxious to 'make the eight' and Gaston had longed to return home and take the Riverlands from his half-brother as he claimed his right. If Collocquo Zobridar had been present however, he would have remained still as Grey Worm. The man was Valyrian and had no desire to cross the seas for a realm he didn't know or care for.
Roose nodded and looked somewhat relieved. "Thank you, your Grace."
"My Lord Paramount, I appreciate your sincerity, but I am not your Queen, even for my title and claim. My place is here." she said, a resigned nod confirming her words. It was true, and she had spent long enough trying not to admit it to herself before her wound that now it seemed a clear admission. So long as this remained a private audience, she could relieve her claim for the moment.
"My Lady, if I may, I do not pay you sincerity out of courteous respect. I have listened to stories of your travels and time in Essos since I was a boy. Since before the North was taken from me by a usurper when I was but a babe. I watched and learned as you conquered Slavers Bay and subjugated the Dothraki. I cheered as the Lords of North Valyria bowed to you. I wept for you when Viserion and Rhaegal fled the Pyramid and left their Mother. I have heard tell of you all my life, and standing before you now, here, so far from your home ..." she raised a hand and he barely saw, only realizing as he glanced up from the floor to look upon her briefly.
"My Lord, I have heard tell of you as well. I have heard that one half your family killed the other half and took part in the slaughter of their liege and King as he rebelled against the Lannisters. I have heard that you have flayed your enemies and that you strung up your once liege by his ankles in a Godswood." She softened her tone as she continued. "I have heard that you love your wife and children, and that you are a good father, husband and liege, but a bad enemy, and loyal friend unlike your kin. I have heard that half your blood is stained in betrayal and half is the most noble in the North - and that you have made yourself more of the latter, than the former. These things I hear too, even across the sea." She paused a moment. "And here you stand before me. The Flayed Wolf, the Dread Lord of the North - more respectful and admiring than all my vassal lords and kings." she said with a chuckle.
He smiled briefly. "Would that I could teach them to respect you as I do, your Majesty." She laughed again.
"Come then and tell me what Queen Myrcella's proposal concerns - unless it is your proposal?" she joked. He didn't laugh but rather turned red, and Daenerys knew to watch her jest before her emissary.
"My Queen Myrcella is lacking an heir, my Lady. She knows too that you also have no heir. This is what concerns her proposal. If you would have peace between Westeros and the Ghiscari as you say, then she proposes next to secure both realms for as long as can be maintained."
"And how does she plan to do that?" Daenerys asked confused.
"My Queen Myrcella would name you her heir, should she pass from this earth, so long as you too name her as your heir. It is a Queens agreement to make strong the peace between you, and to secure an immediate heir for both realms until a successor or successors can be decided." he said, now looking directly at Daenerys.
"I am past child bearing." Daenerys scoffed. "Myrcella would ask me to name her my heir so that she can sire a child with claim on my throne? Is it not enough for the Lion to rule my Throne in Westeros, but now it wants my Empire? The lands I carved with my sweat, and fire and blood!" she yelled. Her arm shook strongly and she struggled to keep it still without her other arm, though she couldn't possibly.
"My Lady-" Roose started.
"If I was your Lady, I would have your sword Ser!" she yelled. "You would have slain the Lion and brought me her head rather than this insult!" her body trembled in her anger. "And you!" she glared at Jon Connington. "You fought for my father, for my brother, for my nephew! And now this!"
Jon bowed his head and the old man stepped forward before the Lord of the North.
"Daenerys Targaryen! I have always served your family!" Ser Connington said.
"You have always failed my family!" She yelled.
"I implore you, my Dragon, I have only ever sought your families return."
"And yet you have failed at every turn." she snarled, springing to her feet.
"Seven Hells! I swear by all the Gods your Grace!" Roose stepped back as Jon pleaded, mouth agape at the outburst from his reserved companion. Daenerys stood, shaking and with clenched fists at her sides.
Roose looked upon the Daenerys Targaryen. He wasn't sure if she would order their death or demand their exile from her lands then and there.
The Queen of Ghiscar trembled from her platform and first it was her lips that followed her arm, an obvious tell of the pressure and wear of years carving an Empire of her own with no heir or family to succeed her, knowing that no matter what she did she wouldn't reach Westeros. Knowing that no matter what she did in Essos, her Empire would not outlast her and her people would suffer as it was torn apart. And now the thought of turning her Empire over to the very family that turned on and butchered her own. It was her legs that followed next and she slumped back into her throne, hiding her face in her hand.
"My Queen-" Jon began, but Daenerys raised a hand to stop him. Even from below the steps of the platform and through Jon's ragged breaths, Roose could hear Daenerys' heavy breaths.
Without another thought he drew his sword and swung it round in an arc, halting just as the blade reached Jon Connington's neck. Instantly, Grey Worm, Gaston and Jhogo had drawn their weapons and jumped in front of their Queen but when they saw it was Jon he held at death's door they held back, waiting for their Queen's command. "You asked for my sword, my Queen. You say this man has failed your family twice over, and now that he is Lord Commander of the Queensguard and claims his injustice at the hands of the Gods, you deny him. If you would have his head, I will give it to you here. If you would have his loyalty proven, and my aid in securing Westeros under the Dragon, as I dreamt as a child, then I will drop to a knee and swear it here, by the Old Gods, and the New."
Daenerys eased her breath while slowly drawing her hand back, and Jon lowered his head, not even sparing a glare for either of them. A gentle smile came upon her face, and Roose felt his heart soften as he looked upon it. For a moment, he thought he saw a tear on her cheek - and then it was gone.
"Your Queen offers me the aid of the both of you." She began. "Lord Commander Jon Connington ... You will serve my family again and defeat these rebels. Perhaps on the field" she paused to breath "the Gods will find it in their hearts to absolve you of your curse."
Ser Jon nodded his head and mumbled his thanks as Roose pulled back his sword and slid it into its sheathe.
"Lord Paramount Bolton ..." Daenerys began. "What will I do with you" she mused. "You threaten a Kingsguard to please a foreign Queen and have the chance to return home without issue in his absence."
"Not a foreign Queen, My Lady. The Queen I would have chosen." Roose said. She looked at him and the smile faded from her face.
She said nothing but smiled feintly, resting her head on her hand as though she had a headache. "Tell me, Lord Bolton for I grow weary. What was this gift you would have given me?"
He looked at her. He looked hard at her, unsure as he had been the whole time of what he was about to do. He had committed men to punish the Freys and seize the Twins for the North before he came of age. He had restored the Starks to Winterfell, and had managed to restore a place of honour to his House. But restoring the Targaryen Dynasty? Daenerys had said herself that she could sire no heir, and with her nephew Aegon dead and slain at Storm's End under the watch of Jon Connington she truly was the Last Dragon.
"I offer you one request. One request of anything you desire and is in my power to grant you."
"For what price?" she asked, raising her head and leaning forward.
"There is no price, only a gift."
He stood proud and sure, but for all his battles and all his fights what came next frightened him the more than any of it. He had decided so long ago to commit himself to this that now it seemed a folly. And yet there he stood, heart racing as he waited for an answer. When she finally spoke, it was not what he had expected, nor what he might have guessed.
"When I'm dead, take me to Dragonstone." She said.
"It's where all Dragons go."
The day had been long, and left him weary. The Flayed Wolf would not stay in Ghiscar, that much he knew. Yet still, his work for the day was not yet done.
It was not until he reached the very bowels of the ship, the bottom deck that lay submerged beneath the waves and reached the stocks that he could console himself that it would be over soon.
It was there that Roose had travelled a long journey with two prisoners, all the way from the North, and across the Narrow Sea to Slavers Bay. At first he had thought of selling them into slavery and servitude, but his meeting with Daenerys and all that she had done to free the Ghiscari from their past enslavement made him ashamed of thought. No, there was another way to solve the issue - and so far from Westeros, there were no laws to restrict him.
Here anyway, he could keep his promise from years ago. His promise to Jon Snow in the tourney that no man who sought his lineage would ever be free. That a whisper would earn the conspirators a terrible death. Now, with Maric Locke and Lady Beth Cassel chained in the stocks of The Grey Seal, the Northern ship that he had sent for all the way from White Harbour, it was time to keep the promise.
A swing of his sword let Maric's head fall to the floor and Lady Beth screamed in horror at the sight of her decapitated husband and lover. It was only when Roose unrolled the leather kit full of knives and plyers and various tools from the Dreadfort, not used or seen since the death of his father, Ramsay Bolton, that she screamed even louder.
"Let me go! I'll never tell anyone I swear. Take me away from Westeros! Take me to Asshai and you'll never hear from me agan! Please! I beg you my Lord!" Beth screamed as she writhed in the chains that held her against the ships hull. She was already bloody from the beating his guards had afforded her earlier, and now the blood of her husband had splattered across her face and chest as his head had fallen to the floor, mouth and eyes wide in horror.
Roose was shaking as he set his sword aside and reached for the first knife in the kit, his hand trembling like a leaf. In his youth, he had read his families histories and diaries but there was no set guide on flaying that he had found. No doubt, the banning of the practice had done much to surpress it from the obvious libraries and even his own House, which would have been under further scrutiny.
"Relax ..." he said, speaking aloud to calm himself as his hand trembled like a leaf in the autumn wind. "Relax..." he whispered again. Slowly, Beth's cries turned to whimpers as he hesitated to face her. There was still a chance to let her go, or to cut her throat and be done with it. He'd strung up Brandon by his ankles and left him to do ... no doubt he could even push Beth into the Narrow Sea and leave her to the Drowned God to claim. "Relax ..." he said again, closing his eyes and biting his lip as his hands trembled more and more the closer he came to deciding his next step.
Behind him, Beth's face turned to confusion as she struggled to understand. "Let me go .... please, my Lord! You don't have to flay me like you did Brandon's men! I don't want to be flayed! Let me go!" she screamed. Roose wanted to let her go ... but he tried to be a man of his word, and in a moment of anger that had meant a promise to flay the men who questioned his Stark blood. He didn't want to break a promise, even one like that? Did he?
He took a deep breath and swung around to face her. He had stared down death in his youth. He had fought dozens of battles against Northmen and peasants and Southrons besides. He had fought in Braavos and threatened the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and beaten the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch in a melee. Today, he had offered any gift to the Last Dragon and she had deigned only to have him return her bones to her home when he had prepared to hear the name of his Queen and an order to kill. Surely he could flay a traitor? A woman who had questioned his blood as had frightened him so much and caused so much grief before? A woman who would have thrown the honour of his House and family into the mud for her own curiosity?
His hands stopped shaking and his face turned to stone. The only betrayal of his feelings was the single tear that ran down his cheek.
"Pig's skin." He said.
Lady Beth stared at him and whimpered. "What?" she asked slowly, stuttering through the word.
"When I revolted against Brandon, I cut off their heads and painted their blood on pigs skin the next morning. I never flayed them, but I wanted you all to think I did. Before that, I lied to my best friend and told him I flayed his lover, just to hurt him - before I sent him to the Wall." The admission was a cold one, and he took no relief or worry from it. There was only one reason he was telling her.
He stepped forward grabbed onto her left arm, outstretched and chained above her head. He raised the knife and rested it on the flesh just below her elbow. Looking at the knife he saw a glint and in the reflection was Beth's face. She was scared and braced for the pain. Following the reflection he leaned in close by her ear. "Stay still and try not to make this harder on us both." He said. "I've never done this before."
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OOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWW
that one line "I've never done this before"
Holy S*** thats awesome!
that one line "I've never done this before"
Holy S*** thats awesome!
Such7 awesomeness in this update...!Mind ifI remark some of the most interesting parts, in my opinion?
-A very little one, but the description ofGreyworm's gear is quite suggestive, it along with the heraldry and hose themed clothes and ornates in the late Daenerys court speak of her longing for returning way more than any word spoken, or that ambition in-game
-Myrcella's proposal is intriguing, specially if one try to figures how much of it is taken from in-game elements. My guess is Danny is in facMyrcella's heir (I am more doubtfull of the converse), and beyond that, I doubt any marriage has founded an alliancebetween the two empires, am I right on that, yes?
-So you have formed a faction for Danny, with Connington joining. On that regard, there is a suggestive line on Roose intervention: Danny is the queen "he would have chosen". Could that imply that Roose would also favour the introduction of some kind of elective system in the IT? That would solve the "lack of heir" issue. And while I am on that, may I ask who are the 2nd and 3rd in line to both the Iron Throne and Danny's Empire? Or would that be atoo heavy spoiler of the forecoming tale?
-Your approach to beyond the wall is quite unorthodox, and keep throwing me into disbelief, and out of it again. Imean, as it is your story, you don't need to constraint your imagination and interpretation of the white walkers, but I think that overtly converting wildlings into ones of them and having them as "POV" characters dilutes all the mystery and the "otherworldly" feeling, at least for me (I know that even the Giantsbane could still be unaware of the goals of his masters, but... the atmosphere is not the same, I suppose. Of course, the story is very cool nonetheless). It also has the disadvantage of keeping you from using Tormund & co.'s character image for immersion reason. But as I said, it is an interesting and "fresh" design decision, nevertheless.
-A very little one, but the description ofGreyworm's gear is quite suggestive, it along with the heraldry and hose themed clothes and ornates in the late Daenerys court speak of her longing for returning way more than any word spoken, or that ambition in-game
-Myrcella's proposal is intriguing, specially if one try to figures how much of it is taken from in-game elements. My guess is Danny is in facMyrcella's heir (I am more doubtfull of the converse), and beyond that, I doubt any marriage has founded an alliancebetween the two empires, am I right on that, yes?
-So you have formed a faction for Danny, with Connington joining. On that regard, there is a suggestive line on Roose intervention: Danny is the queen "he would have chosen". Could that imply that Roose would also favour the introduction of some kind of elective system in the IT? That would solve the "lack of heir" issue. And while I am on that, may I ask who are the 2nd and 3rd in line to both the Iron Throne and Danny's Empire? Or would that be atoo heavy spoiler of the forecoming tale?
-Your approach to beyond the wall is quite unorthodox, and keep throwing me into disbelief, and out of it again. Imean, as it is your story, you don't need to constraint your imagination and interpretation of the white walkers, but I think that overtly converting wildlings into ones of them and having them as "POV" characters dilutes all the mystery and the "otherworldly" feeling, at least for me (I know that even the Giantsbane could still be unaware of the goals of his masters, but... the atmosphere is not the same, I suppose. Of course, the story is very cool nonetheless). It also has the disadvantage of keeping you from using Tormund & co.'s character image for immersion reason. But as I said, it is an interesting and "fresh" design decision, nevertheless.
Thank you very much! I've come a long way with character writing but it's been a while, and I think I'm overplaying their emotions at times. This could just be because I usually only do the naratives at particularly emotional or stressful moments in the story but I might tone it down if the readers agree it seems a bit overdone.
No, it really doesn't. And it's coming.
Thank you very much! He grappled with that a lot as a kid but it still shines through here and there, like when he decieved Perra by bedding her just after his marriage to Kyra and then the arrests, trials and executions that were done to - mostly anyone he was reasonably suspicious of. Of course now he's got a bit more, after flaying Lady Beth.
Ramsay was killed by Lady Kyra's uncle, Theon Flint who served as a bodyguard to her for a time, but died and now his son Jory Flint continues his service. Strange arrangements to be sure - being the bodyguard of the wife of the man who's father you killed.
Thanks! I really wanted to fit that seen in but I wasn't sure after all the other writing I did that day. It came out to like 6,000 words or a just a bit under if I remember. I hoped it was subtle enough to show it would be horrible, while leaving it all to the readers imagination.
Go ahead! I wish I heard more from readers with criticism or just general comments. I see the views spike when I post, but hearing from the readers normally means I wait a while between updates and just keep checking back, hoping
Any comments are welcome!I was very definitely trying to show the dragon theme that pervades Daenerys' empire. She's nearly fifty and for all her accomplishments has never managed to get back to Westeros. Given that that is her life's mission, she's lost hope but still tries to make it feel like home so to speak.
True, Daenerys was Myrcellas heir but around the time of this update, I remember I checked Daenerys and Myrcella was her heir as well. For some reason my screenshot of Daenerys was just a bit before that. I really wanted to bring that into the story and felt it was a great opportunity for Roose, what with a civil war in Ghiscar and his new appointment to Master-at-Arms. Plus we met Jon Connington briefly!
Yes I did and he did. And that is what he means. Without an heir with a true claim, other than perhaps the Baratheon line through Shireen who had quite a number of children before she died in Brienne's prison from some illness, there is no clear successor and many in the seven kingdoms think the realm will tear itself apart. The Ironborn have a precedent of the Moot and Donnor Greyjoy was mentioned as having spoken with Roose before. They're not close but have at least spent some time together then and he would have heard of their moot - which would provide an agreed upon successor.
As for the successor, there are 4 ways for it to go. It can go to Daenerys in the Ghiscari Empire. It can go to the Baratheons, of Robert or of Shireen (I think at least two of Robert's bastards are still alive here and Shireen had around 6 kids with claims.) It can also go to the Lannisters, if Myrcella passes it through her House which settles it on one of Tywin's brothers I think but I forget his name. Of course, Myrcella could still have an heir. She's in her early-mid thirties but given a long marriage to Dickon, a few lovers and no births ...
And yes, I intended to go in a very different direction than other AARs. I love the Game of Thrones AARs but so few, if any, of the ones I've read ever deal with the North and the White Walkers and the Long Night and with the Feast for Crows bookmark, I felt it was too far ahead to ignore it. I had dealt with it offsite in a War of Five Kings bookmark where Danny and her dragons were sent to the Wall (just the course of the game) where they joined with Stannis and Jon Snow - and all 3 took the Black, claimed a Dragon and went on a ranging. Naturally, that was my explanation and easy out for the end of the White Walkers there - although Jon was killed fighting the Wildlings. Here though, I have an amazing character in Tormund of Ruddy Hall who I refer to as Tormund of Giantsbane because he is the grandson of our Tormund Giantsbane with some insane stats - like that 31 Martial score which is ridiculously high - and I couldn't see anyone better to represent the threat. He gets his own nickname later to make it less confusing.
That said, neither he nor Sigorn Bluerage are necessarily White Walkers. It was like in the show where the horned white walker touched the baby and it's eyes went blue. I won't say what it did or if they're right in thinking what they do but it does do something. In part, it elevates them among the Wildlings - not all of whom will be happy about it keep in mind. As for the POV character aspect, the White Walkers as in the Masters won't be POV characters. The course of the AAR will also become more narrative - especially at the end of Book 1 (The Flayed Wolf) and going into Book 2 (Not telling you yet).
Unfortunately, there is nothing I can do about the character portrait - but I did have the idea of using the Draugr character images from the Elder Kings mod and transfering them over and modding them in to at least have something. Unfortunately, I couldn't figure out how. If anyone knows or wants to help with that, or if the Dev team reads that then looks into something like it, that would be great.
Geez, just when ya start to like Roose, he pulls a sword on a Kingsguard and then skins an old woman...
Lovely grouping of updates This story is going in some interesting directions, especially with Roose getting more and more involved in Westoros politics.
Lovely grouping of updates
This story is going in some interesting directions, especially with Roose getting more and more involved in Westoros politics.
Chapter XV - Dear and Departed
On my return to King's Landing I was half relieved that I could put the Cassel matter behind me. The other half was torn about what I'd done. I could have killed her easily. I didn't have to flay her ... I suppose that I wanted to know. I wanted to know what it felt like. What to be a Bolton felt like. All my life I've been a Stark. It's what I've told myself over, and over and over until I learned that it's a lie. Then what was I? Does it matter? I was still myself and yet was not. But now? Am I a Bolton through and through? Does the blood really tell? or is this just the delusion of a man cursed with one foul lineage and a second false one?
Such thoughts ran through my mind a long while before we finally arrived. It was a long sail and more than one storm caused us delay, though our arrival was secure. On my return to the Queen, I was sure to inform her of Ser Connington's stay in Mereen, just as I informed her of Daenerys' assent to her proposal. Neither was entirely truthful. The Lord Commander was to remain and was half a prisoner to his guilt and half in servitude to the Dragon. Daenerys' assent though had come at a price. If Queen Myrcella could hold the Ghiscari together, then she could have the Empire. If not, then not.
Regardless, the Queen was none the wiser and time soon passed from days into weeks once again. Eventually though, as the Queen's name day approached, some of us at court organized a celebration worthy of Her Grace.
At my behest, Lord Donnor had organized a hunting trip with King Dickon and the Queen herself, both to amend relations between the Greyjoys and the Iron Throne and also to remove her from the Red Keep. They were gone for three days, and upon their return, the the whole castle was in celebration for Queen Myrcella.
The highest Lords of Westeros had come to the feast along with their parties, and Lady Kyra had come down from the Dreadfort to join me for the celebration, with some courtiers and traveling Northmen in tow. One of them in particular however was standoffish from the others. Now, I remember him clearly.
He looked half like death, sitting limp and half starved in one of the carts as it neared the gate, the third from my wife. He was dressed in a tattered blue coat with half rotted and scarred leather armour. His beard was long and unkempt and he looked as if it had been a long time since last he washed. I'd imagine he would have smelled much the same. His face was largely hidden by the hood of his cloak pulled up and over his eyes, but most distinct about him was the crow that sat on his leg. It peered from left to right, watch here and there but never flying from his person.
As I received my wife's entourage, I quickly learned why.
This man, this Skinchanger had travelled across the North seeking hospitality before at last arriving at the gate of my castle. Refused from the world and shunned or harassed by the smallfolk, he was in a sorry state and having heard legend of the Skinchangers from Maesters and tutors in my youth, I could do nothing but accept. No doubt, he would prove very useful - especially in King's Landing where new eyes were always useful. The eyes of a crow that could go where men could not? Even more so.
His arrival, however fortuitous, could not overshadow the celebrations however. Never before had I seen such a celebration with all manner of performers and duels in the Queens honour. Particularly surprising too were the minstrels who did an excellent, if obligatory, rendition of Reynes of Castamere upon the Queens entrance to the platform of honour, before continuing on to other songs as they played.
The night was far from over however as I quickly found myself one of the last sober minds in attendance. Eventually, many of the debutantes from Dorne to the North were looking for a Highborn bastard-father, and so I excused myself shortly before many of the other guests.
It was just as well. My Wife and I were eager to see one another alone.
All too soon however, the night was ended and my wife departed to return to the North, where we had news of some trouble brewing. Nothing my son could not handle though, I was sure. He was a man now, and was perfectly capable of governing the North or leading an army in my absence if he had to. All the same though, it was some time before what had occurred truly made sense.
Apparently, in the years since we had fought against The Once King Brandon Karstark, Lady Alys had since become disillusioned with my House and saw to ignite a new war, to grant the Lord Paramouncy to another House. Our informants in the North however, having caught word of this, informed Eddard who marched on the Karhold and convinved the Karstarks to give up Lady Alys for her treason. Whether it was honour or threats of annihilation that turned them, I can't be sure. In her cell though, the Lady had apparently turned to madness and refused to eat or drink. Naturally, she did not last long in those conditions. Some would criticize Eddard for his actions, but no doubt they averted a much more troubling revolt.
Sure enough though I had business of my own to attend to.
A new war with Braavos erupted as the Iron Throne looked for a way to keep its coffers full, and the Iron Bank proved once again the answer - though a contract signed in blood proved worthy of a lesser interest rate than one in ink. The war was relatively uneventful, though the sack of Braavos spawned many tales of heroes and villains from all of the Seven Kingdoms. I myself was not even present for that battle, as fate would have it. I drew up the plans and the siege lines and the woks necessary, but I had been absent some time before the actual assault erupted. Brienne instead had taken my place until my return, and so it was another city fell to the Blue Lady.
The war ended quickly after that.
With peace once again calming the Seven Kingdoms, so too did the thoughts of the Lord Paramounts turn to guaranteeing that peace. Valuable alliances were forged with both the North and the Vale, and with House Greyjoy - although both were truly suspect. The Vale ignored her obligations the last time she held an alliance with us Northmen and it might have cost us the war for it. The Greyjoys meanwhile, had an ill reputation. It was not a major Greyjoy Lady either that was to wed into my House. But I had seen her at the Queen's nameday celebrations, and knew that she would be fit to have many fine children.
Word came from Essos soon enough though that the Rebellion of the Ghiscari had ended. Now, the Dragon ruled united once again.
With Daenerys' victory and title secure, Ser Connington and I began to move towards expanding our efforts to support Daenerys for her eventual succession. She may have been older than Myrcella, but I bet on her outliving the Lion Queen. After all, Myrcella's immediate family had all been murdered or killed in the last few decades, and no doubt she still had many enemies.
Both marriages to the Greyjoys and the Arryns would go someway to secure that support, but I doubted much would come of it. We needed more. Eventually though, as we tried to work it out, sending Bran as his crow to ensure security, we found little room to grow - though I did begin considering further matches for my children. My latest progeny was not to survive her birth however.
This soured the marriages of Eddard and Lacey as they occured only a short while after, but dark wings were quick to bring dark words. It was only a short while into the new year when the ravens began arriving.
The first was a heavy blow to my efforts for Daenerys.
The second ended them.
The third was much more personal in nature and though it was something of a relief, it was hardly good news.
OOC - Believe it or not, those three actually did happen in a single month.
On my return to King's Landing I was half relieved that I could put the Cassel matter behind me. The other half was torn about what I'd done. I could have killed her easily. I didn't have to flay her ... I suppose that I wanted to know. I wanted to know what it felt like. What to be a Bolton felt like. All my life I've been a Stark. It's what I've told myself over, and over and over until I learned that it's a lie. Then what was I? Does it matter? I was still myself and yet was not. But now? Am I a Bolton through and through? Does the blood really tell? or is this just the delusion of a man cursed with one foul lineage and a second false one?
Such thoughts ran through my mind a long while before we finally arrived. It was a long sail and more than one storm caused us delay, though our arrival was secure. On my return to the Queen, I was sure to inform her of Ser Connington's stay in Mereen, just as I informed her of Daenerys' assent to her proposal. Neither was entirely truthful. The Lord Commander was to remain and was half a prisoner to his guilt and half in servitude to the Dragon. Daenerys' assent though had come at a price. If Queen Myrcella could hold the Ghiscari together, then she could have the Empire. If not, then not.
Regardless, the Queen was none the wiser and time soon passed from days into weeks once again. Eventually though, as the Queen's name day approached, some of us at court organized a celebration worthy of Her Grace.
At my behest, Lord Donnor had organized a hunting trip with King Dickon and the Queen herself, both to amend relations between the Greyjoys and the Iron Throne and also to remove her from the Red Keep. They were gone for three days, and upon their return, the the whole castle was in celebration for Queen Myrcella.
The highest Lords of Westeros had come to the feast along with their parties, and Lady Kyra had come down from the Dreadfort to join me for the celebration, with some courtiers and traveling Northmen in tow. One of them in particular however was standoffish from the others. Now, I remember him clearly.
He looked half like death, sitting limp and half starved in one of the carts as it neared the gate, the third from my wife. He was dressed in a tattered blue coat with half rotted and scarred leather armour. His beard was long and unkempt and he looked as if it had been a long time since last he washed. I'd imagine he would have smelled much the same. His face was largely hidden by the hood of his cloak pulled up and over his eyes, but most distinct about him was the crow that sat on his leg. It peered from left to right, watch here and there but never flying from his person.
As I received my wife's entourage, I quickly learned why.
This man, this Skinchanger had travelled across the North seeking hospitality before at last arriving at the gate of my castle. Refused from the world and shunned or harassed by the smallfolk, he was in a sorry state and having heard legend of the Skinchangers from Maesters and tutors in my youth, I could do nothing but accept. No doubt, he would prove very useful - especially in King's Landing where new eyes were always useful. The eyes of a crow that could go where men could not? Even more so.
His arrival, however fortuitous, could not overshadow the celebrations however. Never before had I seen such a celebration with all manner of performers and duels in the Queens honour. Particularly surprising too were the minstrels who did an excellent, if obligatory, rendition of Reynes of Castamere upon the Queens entrance to the platform of honour, before continuing on to other songs as they played.
The night was far from over however as I quickly found myself one of the last sober minds in attendance. Eventually, many of the debutantes from Dorne to the North were looking for a Highborn bastard-father, and so I excused myself shortly before many of the other guests.
It was just as well. My Wife and I were eager to see one another alone.
All too soon however, the night was ended and my wife departed to return to the North, where we had news of some trouble brewing. Nothing my son could not handle though, I was sure. He was a man now, and was perfectly capable of governing the North or leading an army in my absence if he had to. All the same though, it was some time before what had occurred truly made sense.
Apparently, in the years since we had fought against The Once King Brandon Karstark, Lady Alys had since become disillusioned with my House and saw to ignite a new war, to grant the Lord Paramouncy to another House. Our informants in the North however, having caught word of this, informed Eddard who marched on the Karhold and convinved the Karstarks to give up Lady Alys for her treason. Whether it was honour or threats of annihilation that turned them, I can't be sure. In her cell though, the Lady had apparently turned to madness and refused to eat or drink. Naturally, she did not last long in those conditions. Some would criticize Eddard for his actions, but no doubt they averted a much more troubling revolt.
Sure enough though I had business of my own to attend to.
A new war with Braavos erupted as the Iron Throne looked for a way to keep its coffers full, and the Iron Bank proved once again the answer - though a contract signed in blood proved worthy of a lesser interest rate than one in ink. The war was relatively uneventful, though the sack of Braavos spawned many tales of heroes and villains from all of the Seven Kingdoms. I myself was not even present for that battle, as fate would have it. I drew up the plans and the siege lines and the woks necessary, but I had been absent some time before the actual assault erupted. Brienne instead had taken my place until my return, and so it was another city fell to the Blue Lady.
The war ended quickly after that.
With peace once again calming the Seven Kingdoms, so too did the thoughts of the Lord Paramounts turn to guaranteeing that peace. Valuable alliances were forged with both the North and the Vale, and with House Greyjoy - although both were truly suspect. The Vale ignored her obligations the last time she held an alliance with us Northmen and it might have cost us the war for it. The Greyjoys meanwhile, had an ill reputation. It was not a major Greyjoy Lady either that was to wed into my House. But I had seen her at the Queen's nameday celebrations, and knew that she would be fit to have many fine children.
Word came from Essos soon enough though that the Rebellion of the Ghiscari had ended. Now, the Dragon ruled united once again.
With Daenerys' victory and title secure, Ser Connington and I began to move towards expanding our efforts to support Daenerys for her eventual succession. She may have been older than Myrcella, but I bet on her outliving the Lion Queen. After all, Myrcella's immediate family had all been murdered or killed in the last few decades, and no doubt she still had many enemies.
Both marriages to the Greyjoys and the Arryns would go someway to secure that support, but I doubted much would come of it. We needed more. Eventually though, as we tried to work it out, sending Bran as his crow to ensure security, we found little room to grow - though I did begin considering further matches for my children. My latest progeny was not to survive her birth however.
This soured the marriages of Eddard and Lacey as they occured only a short while after, but dark wings were quick to bring dark words. It was only a short while into the new year when the ravens began arriving.
The first was a heavy blow to my efforts for Daenerys.
The second ended them.
The third was much more personal in nature and though it was something of a relief, it was hardly good news.
OOC - Believe it or not, those three actually did happen in a single month.
Yikes!!! So you're now the subject of the queen of Westeros, Slavers' Bay and Ghis? Looking forward to the coming faction madness.
Man, the Irone Throne just hates Braavos. Every time I try to play Braavos myself, it's like the minute I start a trade post on Westoros, and I don't have 100+ relations with the Iron Throne, it's almost immediately, "WAR! DIE BRAAVOS! DIE!"
And uh...wow. All of those in three months? Truth be told when I saw the spoilers and the hints at what lay in store when I pushed the button, I was worried Myrcella had died. A pity Daenerys has gone bye bye (I can only imagine the "severe stress" that would have killed her), but at least with Myrcella, things can still be quite interesting.
And uh...wow. All of those in three months? Truth be told when I saw the spoilers and the hints at what lay in store when I pushed the button, I was worried Myrcella had died. A pity Daenerys has gone bye bye (I can only imagine the "severe stress" that would have killed her), but at least with Myrcella, things can still be quite interesting.
Wow! This is a truly interesting turn of things! I eagerly anticipate the actions Myrcella will take with her new ghiscary subjects (and a political map of the extended Westeros)
A petty question (you know I'm prone to those) How is that Eddard can celebrate a feast in King's Landing? Are feasts always celebrated in the location of the ruler instead of his capital? I have never noticed that.
How are the other free cities business read: trade posts) in Westeros going? Also, is any of the slaver bay kingdoms/lord paramouncies still republics?
And the last one: What has happened to the Ghiscari title itself? The message say that Myrcella has inherited the kingdoms, but not the Empire. And who is Myrcella's heir now? And how is the new lord commander of the night's watch? Stannis perhaps?
A petty question (you know I'm prone to those) How is that Eddard can celebrate a feast in King's Landing? Are feasts always celebrated in the location of the ruler instead of his capital? I have never noticed that.
How are the other free cities business read: trade posts) in Westeros going? Also, is any of the slaver bay kingdoms/lord paramouncies still republics?
And the last one: What has happened to the Ghiscari title itself? The message say that Myrcella has inherited the kingdoms, but not the Empire. And who is Myrcella's heir now? And how is the new lord commander of the night's watch? Stannis perhaps?
Weassos? Centralos? Esseros?
But yes! I've never seen the Iron Throne overtake parts of Essos before, very interested to see how that plays out, though I can only worry that it'll be a hassle with rebellions halfway across the world. Does the mega-war system work for Essosi kingdoms? Or do they simply act normally?
Who is next in line for the Iron Throne? Dany and Mycella were mutually heirs for each other, right?