(Prologue - Dragonstone: 10/13/283 AC) Willem
'Rhaegar was dead, and rotting away in the...
'Rhaegar was dead, and rotting away in the...
A Game of Thrones: Fury and Flame (ASOIAF / Avatar: The Last Airbender)
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(Prologue - Dragonstone: 10/13/283 AC) Willem
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(Prologue - Dragonstone: 10/13/283 AC) Willem
'Rhaegar was dead, and rotting away in the waters of the Trident. The Army he gathered to engage the rebels, was scattered and destroyed. Aerys was mad, holding the Dornish princess and her children prisoner. And now?' Willem Darry thought to himself, 'Now came the news of the capture of Mace Tyrell, the decimation of his army, and the annihilation of the Redwyne fleet.' He rubbed his large leathery hands, in contemplation. Truth be told, Darry considered himself and his charges fortunate. He knew, King Aerys, well enough to know that he no doubt flew into a rage upon hearing of the destruction of the Reach army and fleet. 'Coupled with news of Rhaegar,' he thought solemnly, 'many innocents likely died to appease his anger.' He had always considered himself a loyal man, perhaps the only truly remaining loyalist, to the Targaryens. But even now, as he watched little prince Viserys cling to his mother, who still wept at the loss of her eldest son, he knew that the loyalists on Dragonstone were beginning to waver in their support. The only two things keeping the garrison from outright treachery was that they still held command of the Royal fleet, and were foolish enough to think that enough to counter what had destroyed the Redwynes. The men believed the Redwynes to have been utter fools if they had been destroyed by a little girl with a single ship. "Surely it was a fluke?" he had heard them whisper. However, he knew better, 'No fluke would lead to the utter destruction of a fleet that size. And if what little information, that managed to make its way to Dragonstone was correct, then that same fluke led to no survivors. A 'fluke' does not earn the title of 'Butcher,'' As the old knight's exhausted mind contemplated a way out of their predicament, he had not noticed the Targaryen prince approach him.
"Ser Willem?" he heard the soft voice, of seven-year-old Viserys Targaryen, call to him. He had been unsure, timid, and concerned. There was fear in his young voice.
He tried his best to present a calm, collected, face before he responded, "Yes, my prince?"
"Why are we here?" he asked, wide-eyed.
"To keep you, and your family, safe, my prince," came the response, as caring and gentle as he could say it. "We are only waiting for your father to destroy the rebels who would claim his crown, your crown," he lied. He was no fool, and he recognized, that any hope the royal family had at survival, died to the Usurper's Warhammer in the waters of the Trident.
"Truly? I heard them say that the armies and fleet of the Reach have been destroyed," his eyes stared hopefully towards his family's protector, an old knight.
"Lies," he declared, placing his hand on the young boy's shoulders, "Lies told by the rebels with the intent to destroy us, from within. Pay them no mind, my prince," he cast a reassuring smile towards his charge, "We will survive this." The boy prince smiled as the doubt left his eyes, and Willem Darry felt himself more of a traitor than he could express.
'No,' he thought to himself, as the prince ran back to his mother and excitedly told her about what he said. Queen Rhaella Targaryen, looked at him, a small spark of hope in her tear-stained face. 'I will have them survive,' the conviction had been evident on his face, as he thought those words, and he nodded his head in assurance to the Queen. She nodded her head back, in response, a look of determination shining in her eyes. From that moment, he began to set a plan in motion. All of the news the Master of Whisperers managed to relay to him, told him of a lull in the march of the Rebels. They had been poised to attack King's Landing after the Trident, and yet they had paused in their advance. 'It was known that Robert had been injured in his duel with Rhaegar, but not that he had died. For such a thing would have been the only way the rebels would have stopped so suddenly,' he thought. Furthermore, it had been revealed that Tywin Lannister had begun calling his banners. He, as of yet, remained uncommitted. The only thing Varys had reported to the man was that the former hand was massing his troops on the Goldroad, while his younger brother, Kevan Lannister, marshaled them on the Searoad, near Crakehall. 'That opportunistic Lion saw the bleeding Dragon, and the wilted Rose, and was weighing his options now,' thought Willem, in disgust.
******
(Prologue - Dragonstone: 11/9/283 AC) Willem
As the days turned into weeks, no one had moved. He had only heard of the rebels holding up in Harrenhall. While Lord Tywin, and his brother Kevan, had supposedly finished organizing their forces. 'Forces, which neared a total strength of thirty thousand,' he thought. Fifteen thousand of which were with Kevan Lannister on the Searoad, while the other fifteen, stood with Tywin on the Goldroad. In the pregnant pause that was this part of the Rebellion, many in Dragonstone began to question, "Perhaps peace was being discussed?" Others had even boldly proclaimed that "Maybe the Usurper did die." Such wild news began to even bring a bit of hope, to Ser Willem, before a hammer blow destroyed it.
"A wedding?!?" he exclaimed in surprise, unable to process the information the maester had delivered to him.
"Yes, Ser Willem," spoke the gray old maester, sounding just as befuddled as the old knight. "Stannis Baratheon is to wed a foreign woman who goes by the name of Azula."
"Azula? Azula what? What titles does she hold? Who is she?" he demanded. 'Was this wedding the cause of all this indecisiveness?' his mind shouted in astonishment.
"It doesn't say," said the man, "All that is written is the name Azula. She claims to be a princess of some foreign country called the Firenation. She was the commander of the forces who broke the Redwyne fleet in Shipbreaker Bay, and Lord Tyrell's army, near Storm's End."
'So the Butcher of Shipbreaker has a name?' he thought darkly.
******
(Prologue - Dragonstone: 11/14/283 AC) Willem
After news of this wedding had spread throughout Dragonstone, Willem knew he needed to act. Especially, once he saw the pieces had, once again, begun moving. Tywin Lannister was reportedly marching his forces along the Goldroad, towards King's Landing. Kevan Lannister, on the other hand, had taken his forces along the Searoad and made his way towards Highgarden. A force of ten thousand rebels had been dispatched to King's Landing, from Harrenhall, headed by the Lord of Winterfell, Eddard Stark. The rest of the rebels had remained behind, under the command of the Lord of the Vale, guarding the usurper as he recuperated. Worst of all, however, was news that the black ship which had sunk the Redwyne fleet, was heading towards Dragonstone, and it would be here in a matter of days. Even with the temporary respite, he hadn't had enough time to make the proper arrangements for travel off of Dragonstone. He sought to find a safe haven in Braavos, but even the decent sum of coin the Queen held at Dragonstone was not enough to assure them all safe passage. Fortunately, and contrary to what Willem had originally thought, the majority of the garrison at Dragonstone, was not as keen to betray them. Once word had spread that the Butcher was on her way, they all looked to the Old Knight to lead them out. Some wished to leave on their own, taking a ship with them, but the majority were still of sound mind and wanted an organized response. Everyone who had possessed even half of an awareness of their position knew breaking apart at this point was foolish. 'The Butcher had taken only one prisoner during her brief history of battle, within Westeros, Mace Tyrell,' his mind uttered, 'a Lord Paramount. And who were they to even begin to compare in importance? If the Butcher's actions were consistent, she would only take two prisoners from here, and they were the ones he would not allow to be taken.'
******
(Prologue - Dragonstone: 11/16/283 AC) Willem
After modifications had been made to several of the Royal ships, and a plan had been formed, Ser Willem Darry went to the Queen Regent. He informed her of how the operation would unfold at sea. "Your Grace? If you would allow me to detail my proposal?"
"You may, Ser Willem," she said, as a gentle wind swept through the balcony of the Queen's audience chamber. Their clothing swayed slightly in the breeze, as the old knight and the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms held their meeting. The gust had come from the east, and both the knight and the Queen grew cold at what it might mean. The Queen paused as she sat on her ornate chair, staring out towards the sea, "A storm is coming," she said ominously. She protectively rubbed her small belly.
"Aye," he spoke, "but it is far off, and it will not hinder us in our escape." The Queen looked at him expectantly, sadly. "We will all escape, my Queen," Willem reaffirmed, looking towards his Queen, as she nodded halfheartedly. "We will begin by separating Prince Viserys and yourself," he stated and began to raise his hands in anticipation of his queen's natural reaction.
"You cannot," she pleaded as panic began flaring in her eyes, "I will not allow him to be without me. I am all he has left."
"I understand your apprehension, your Grace, but we cannot allow you both to be aboard the same ship. If you are both captured, by the butcher, she may end your lives. Even if she does not, and delivers you to the usurper, he may not be so forgiving. Especially if Tywin Lannister has turned against us," he said.
"Tywin. Has he struck against us yet?" she questioned.
"He has not, but his forces continue to march towards the capital, while his brother marches towards Highgarden," came the bitter statement. He knew what Tywin was, and how Aerys had wronged him, and it was only a matter of time. The queen, however, thought differently.
"Then there is still a chance that he will declare for us?" she said, a slight flicker of hope coming to her eyes. Eyes which stared directly at the old knight.
"Even if he does, he is too far away to do anything to help us," he stated, and the queen's eyes fell. "We cannot return to King's Landing, or the Butcher will cut off access to the Narrow Sea from behind us. Leaving us trapped on land, and surrounded by enemies. No, your Grace, we must turn east towards Essos, for a safe haven." The queen slumped her shoulders, in defeat, while still caringly massaging her abdomen. She looked towards the old knight and nodded for him to continue. Willem cleared his throat, "As I was saying, your Grace, we will have Prince Viserys and yourself aboard separate ships. They will be small, fast, and above all, unassuming. At an outward glance, they would not appear to be fit to bear someone such as yourself, but that is the point. We need the Butcher's attention to be drawn towards the larger, royal-looking ship. A series of smaller ships will be seen to be escorting the 'royal' ship, while the prince and your Grace remain as part of the 'escort.'" He stood silently, awaiting the Queen's acknowledgment before continuing. "The bulk of the royal fleet, headed by the royal flagship, 'the Seadragon,' will move to engage the Butcher and distract her attentions, while the 'royal' ship flees."
"Will she not be drawn to us? Surely, she will begin to sail towards us as she sees the 'royal' ship flee? How are we to escape if she attacks?" His queen asked.
"That is what the distraction force is for," came his response. "They are meant to prevent her from coming too close, too soon, and to give the illusion that the royal ship is the one she is hunting. Once she cuts through the fleet, she will maneuver to capture the royal ship. It is my hope, that she will focus enough effort on the royal ship to dismiss the smaller fleeing ships as cowards, and nothing more."
"All those men…you are using them as bait?" she quietly contemplated, looking towards the stone floor, before raising her head and locking eyes with him.
"They know where their loyalties lie. They would sacrifice themselves for the royal family, for you," he lied, yet again. 'All those men expected to board the enemy ship. They anticipated some casualties, but were confident they were going to win the day,' he thought. 'The captains of those ships were loyal, and knew of the sacrifice, but the crew did not, and they were likely not going to live to see tomorrow. Not if the rumors were true.' "In the event, she closes the distance too soon, the escort ships have all been fitted with royal sails. The sails are to be unfurled, and the ships ordered to scatter," he motioned his closed fist towards his chest, and opened it into a palm, to express his point. "This will force the Butcher to choose which one to pursue. As the ships, your graces will be within, are among the fastest, the distraction should provide enough of a lull in pursuit to allow for escape."
"And if she catches us?" his queen spoke unsteadily, hand placed upon her midsection.
He lowered his gaze, "She cannot capture both of you, your Grace."
"No, but she can kill us…" she whispered despondently.
Seeking to alleviate the awkward silence, he continued, "I will be aboard 'the Firewing,' to coordinate. Your Grace will be on 'the Dracarys,' while his grace, Prince Viserys will be aboard 'the Dark Siren.' If all goes accordingly, we will rendezvous in Pentos."
"I pray it does, Ser Willem. I pray it does," came the solemn voice.
"The men have all been informed of the plan, and we need only your leave to see it done." As he pondered their chances of survival, the bells began to toll in alarm, and the wind began to flow through the open balcony, beating hard against the banners and curtains within the Queen's audience chamber. He looked out from the balcony towards the sea and saw dark clouds forming on the horizon, to the east. He reached into the small leather sack strapped to his side and retrieved his Myrish eye, and looked towards the south. There, far in the distance, was a small pillar of black smoke, and the tell-tale glint of gold reflecting off of a small black dot skirting the coast. "She is several hours away! We must leave now, your Grace!"
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(Dragonstone: 9/1/290 AC) Lady Stork I
- Location
- U.S.
(Dragonstone: 9/1/290 AC) Lady Stork I
'That ship is enormous!' she thought in amazement, as the midday sun struck the golden trim at the bow of the monstrous ship. 'The Black Betha,' the small sail ship she was aboard, sailed past the imposing vessel. 'The Ozai,' as she later found out it was called, was docked near a large imposing structure. The construction, made of steel and iron, held several large plates of metal shielding, protecting the insides from the elements. What the little bits of sunlight, penetrating the interior of the metallic maw, revealed were steel skeletal-like pillars supporting the canopy and what appeared to be walkways complete with, what she later found out were, Flameguard and Firenation troopers, surrounding the smaller, though no less impressive ship, 'the Storm's Fury.' However, as striking as the building appeared, even she, a mummer from Braavos, could tell that a minimal amount of materials went into its construction. 'Almost as if it had been constructed in haste?' she thought. While she observed the 'steel castle' several sail ships, bearing golden Kraken sails, were seen being escorted by a larger number of royal ships. The small fleet of ships had disappeared around the metal structure, coming to dock somewhere along the southern part of the island, while 'the Black Betha' had been sailing towards the island's northern end.
"She is quite the beauty, isn't she?" spoke the captain of 'the Black Betha,' a man by the name of Davos Seaworth. He had come up behind her while she had been mesmerized by the metallic leviathan and its seaside cave. Together they stood from the bow of the slowly rocking ship, as he reclined himself on the railing. Davos, she had been told, had been a smuggler who had fallen under the Lady of Dragonstone's patronage following the events of King Robert's Rebellion.
She took a nip of wine from her small flask. "She is, she really is…" she uttered in response, the smuggler nodded his head in agreement. As the ship rounded the rocky outcropping, both saw the ship and building fade from view.
"It took quite some time to find you, milady," the smuggler said, still reclining on the railing.
"It is fortunate that you did find me. Your Lady Azula was most gracious with her coin," she said, twirling a Westrosi gold dragon between the fingers of her left hand, while firmly grasping the nearly empty flask in the other. "Any inkling as to why she sought me out?" The cool wind buffeted her long hair and simple clothing.
"Begging your pardon, milady, but it is not my place to detail milady Firelord's plans. She ordered me to find you, and find you I did," he said while staring out at the coastline of Dragonstone. 'Black Betha' began to slow as it neared its apparent destination, just off the coast. The only hint anything had been there, against the rocky cliff face, was a dull gray metal door with a large three-pronged golden flame emblazoned at its center. A pair of Firenation soldiers stood guard, the white faceplates focusing on the small ship. The smuggler captain touched her arm and urged her to go to the small landing craft roped to the side of his ship. "Time to go milady."
"It's about time, I do not think the sea to be a close friend of mine," she joked, as she and the captain strode across the deck towards the small awaiting craft.
"Nor was it mine, for a time, milady," he responded, with a chuckle, before he assisted her into the vessel. After she settled herself in, he joined her, along with four oarsmen, dressed in haggard clothing. "Lower us down, men! Wait for them," he respectfully nodded his head towards the oarsmen, "to return, before you dock at the island's harbor. I will be back at the docks, before night."
"Aye!" the crewmen answered, before readying the rope attached to the landing craft. The small boat started to lower, and the salty sea air began stimulating her nose and the gently crashing waves soothed her uncertain mind.
Izembaro, 'the King of the Mummers' as he liked to call himself, was the head of the Braavosi traveling troupe Lady Stork had been part of. He had been less than pleased when she had been approached with the Lady Azula's offer. The 'offer' being a tremendous amount of gold that she had not been able to dismiss. 'All the trouble this 'Lady Azula' had gone through to track her down was flattering,' she thought, 'and all to work as a glorified mummer,' a slight chuckle escaping her lips.
"Something amusing, milady?" asked the smuggler captain, as the small vessel kicked off from 'the Black Betha.' It began to slowly move towards the metal door, the waves gently nudging against the humble little boat.
"No, Davos, just reliving a memory," she smiled, as he murmured a response. He pointed towards the shore, and the dull metal door, which began to open. Emerging from the gloom was a small Yi-Tish looking woman, clad in a red and black uniform, trimmed in gold. A golden flame headpiece was fixed into her tight hair bun, glimmering in the sun. An old, slightly balding, man wearing a black maester-like robe stood to the woman's left side. To the woman's right stood a striking young Volantene woman in a form-fitting red dress. A blood-red cape draped across her body, nearly covering her entirely, billowing slightly in the breeze. The red woman had a head of flowing blonde, near white, hair and what appeared to be a ruby encrusted choker. All had been mirroring the Yi-Tish woman's enigmatic smile, as they waited for the boat to close the distance between them. The Yi-Tish woman stood there, her hands clasped at her back, while the old man and beautiful woman stood with arms hidden under their robes and cape. The door clanged shut behind the small group.
As the ship drew nearer, the small Yi-Tish woman began to bare her teeth in the most unnerving smile Lady Stork had ever seen. A dark glint crossed her eyes, 'As a predator awaiting its prey,'she thought. She felt the small ship slow to a stop, the water lapping up the sides before the smuggler captain offered his hand to assist her in exiting the craft.
"Milady?" he said, holding his hand out.
She stepped out into the shallow waters and lifted her dress so as to not get it saturated in the sloshing seawater. As her feet touched the rocky shore, she walked towards the woman and her small following. The smuggler waved the oarsmen away, and they shoved back out to sea towards the 'Black Betha.'
"Welcome to Dragonstone, Lady Stork!" she heard a silky smooth voice shout out in false welcome.
Lady Stork began to trudge towards the woman who remained inhumanly still. The only movement to come from the five figures in front of the metal door was that of their heads as they followed her and the smuggler trek across the stony beach. As she stood before the woman, she bowed her head, knowing this to be the custom when presented before a noble lord or lady. The smuggler to her left, Davos, followed her example and bowed his head in turn. "You may raise your heads, and look upon me," she commanded, her left arm motioning them to rise, whilst her right remained hidden behind her back.
"Milady Firelord, by your command I have brought you the mummer," spoke the smuggler.
The woman's feral smile fell from her face, a modest smirk overtaking it. "You have done well, Davos, and your loyalty is appreciated," she beamed, as Davos nodded his head, acknowledging the praise set before him. The woman then turned her attention towards, her, the simple mummer from Braavos. "And you, Lady Stork, I imagine you have a multitude of questions as to how I found out about you, and why I have brought you here?"
"Yes, my lady, it is a question that has plagued my mind during my journey here," came her response as she nodded her head. The strange blonde woman, with the red dress, whispered something into the Yi-Tish woman's ear. The Lady Azula tilted her head, to listen, before withdrawing. Afterward, the red woman returned to her peaceful pose and mysterious smile.
"Come with me," she gestured towards the two, Davos and Stork, before turning her back and leading them towards the metal door with the three-pronged flame. One of the guards reached for the handle and pulled the entry door open, a low metallic groan accompanied the opening door. The Yi-Tish woman looked back, and uttered, "We have much to discuss."
As the group entered the darkness, it took time for Lady Stork's eyes to adjust from the bright light of the sun to the dull light of torches within. The two Firenation guards had remained outside, shutting the entrance behind the group. Five individuals had entered and all but herself were prepared for what the dark hall, of stone and steel, held. The torches of dull red flame suddenly burst to life in a brilliant blue as the Yi-Tish woman passed them, leading them all down the intimidating corridor. The only sound accompanying the footsteps of the five were those of drops of water, or what she hoped was water, echoing throughout the halls. Several paths split from the main hall the five had been walking, some leading into brightly lit rooms, doors slightly ajar, and others down into even darker passages. She straggled behind, peering into one of these murkier halls, drawn to movement just past the reach of the calming blue light. Her eyes adjusted and caught sight of what appeared to be a pale white, naked, man. Patches of gray and black covered his arms, legs, and torso, 'the way armor would,' she thought, 'but these patches appeared to part of him?' As she struggled to make sense of the man, his milky white eyes turned towards her, and he opened his mouth in a silent scream. A loud 'clang!' startled Lady Stork, nearly causing her heart to explode out of its chest. As Lady Stork jerked her head back towards the main path, further down the hall, she noticed the bright blue flames dimming, reverting back to their dull red hue.
"Lady Stork?" echoed the menacingly sweet voice of the Yi-Tish woman. "It's unwise to get lost down here."
Before jolting down the main path to join the rest of the group, she cast one last glance down the dark hall and saw nothing. The pale man had vanished back into the abyss. Faster than lightning, she moved to rejoin the group further down the ever darkening hall, the sounds of numerous heavy feet following her every step of the way. Refusing to look back, and nearly at the edge of panic, she finally caught a glimpse of the safety of blue torchlight and heard the heavy footfalls recede back into the darkness. She rounded the corner, breathing heavily, having caught up with the group just outside a large black door. The others held slight grins on their faces, barring the smuggler, who seemed to be blissfully unaware of the monsters in the dark.
"Glad to have you back with us," spoke the Lady of Dragonstone, a dangerous glint in her eyes.
Lady Stork had wanted to scream, at her, and demand that she be allowed to leave. However, the look in the Yi-Tish woman's golden eyes told her all she needed to know. 'Go ahead and try.'
The Lady of Dragonstone reached to open the black door revealing a respectably sized study with several bits of the rocky cliff jutting out of the higher areas. The walls had been covered with stone to smooth out the surface, she saw. 'Likely to make the area more accommodating?' she thought, trying to distract herself from remembering the naked man in the dark hall. Several dangerous looking men and woman, clad in uniforms similar to the Lady of Dragonstone, occupied the study. Amongst them were a smattering of normal looking men and women. All of whom were dressed in various forms of loose red clothing, wearing chains and chokers encrusted with rubies. The rubies seemed to have held a soft glow in the dimness before the torches in the study flared blue. All those within rose to their feet and bowed their heads, with the ones in uniform holding out their hands, and somehow causing a fire to form within them.
Lady Stork jumped back in surprise as the fire erupted from the hands of those who shared the Yi-tish woman's style of dress and look of features. They continued walking towards the back of the study, before approaching a small bronze door emblazoned with a five-pronged flame. At the center of the flame was a fist-sized opening.
"You, specifically, were brought here because Qyburn recommended you," said the woman as she positioned her feet apart, coming into some form of combat stance.
The others stepped away from the woman and Lady Stork followed their lead. She felt her hair begin to stand on end as strands of crackling blue energy began to form at the tips of the Yi-tish woman's fingers. She twisted and arched her arms in a fluid motion, before releasing the built-up energy directly into the small opening at the center of the five-pronged flame that adorned the small bronze door. Flashes of blue emanated from within the opening. As the energy began to dissipate, Lady Stork held her breath, utterly dumbfounded at the woman's display of power. 'What gods have I angered? That would condemn me to a hell of monsters in the shadows and sorceress that control the very power of fire and lightning?' She heard a series of clicks and snaps before the door opened. The woman stretched her arms, causing several cracks and pops to emerge from her joints.
She turned her head towards her and spoke, "Recently being with child didn't lend itself well to satisfying levels of practice."
'Children?!?! She has children?!?!?' she thought, incredulously, of the small woman before her. The group passed through the door and entered a small room that held an ornate black desk, two chairs, a bookshelf, two torch stands, and tapestries. A red cloth trimmed in gold, and sporting a black three-pronged flame, draped along the center of the table. As the torches sprang in life, a blue glow illuminated the room and Lady Stork saw several books lining the small bookshelf behind the desk. A single chair stood before the desk, and Lady Stork felt that that was where she was to sit. Along the walls were small tapestries holding remarkably lifelike illustrations of people who shared the woman's features. The most prominent, amongst the tapestries, featured a portrait of a family, or what she assumed was a family, of four; all clad in red robes and clothing trimmed in gold. The mother, had her hands clasped and hidden beneath her robes, while the father's right hand rested on his knee, and his other on the right shoulder of his son. Both, the mother and father, sat upon two ornate chairs. Two children, a boy, and a girl, remained on their knees, at the foot of their parents. Their hands were resting, respectfully, between their legs. The four beheld Lady Stork, with stern gazes, barring the boy. There seemed to have been a bit of warmth beneath his eyes.
"From what he tells me, during his time with that sellsword company…" the woman began, causing her to snap her head back towards the woman. The woman paused, looking towards Qyburn, "what did they call themselves again?"
"The Brave Companions, Firelord," the old man answered.
"Ah yes, the Brave Companions," she said, rounding the desk to sit on the chair behind it. "During his time with them, he tells me you were quite the actress, or mummer, as you people call it," she continued. "Not too long ago, I was taught a lesson in humility that I do not seek to learn again. The cost had been too high…" she said the last harshly as the blue flames began rising higher, causing the small room to grow hotter. Noticing the shift, the Yi-tish woman let out a calming breath, before looking towards the small group who had entered the room with her. "Qyburn, you may continue with your work. Thus far, you have employed the knowledge within the scrolls, I gifted you, well. But, remember, I want more of them ready before the year is out. If needs be, use the captured spies, I'm sure the spider, and whatever other players seek to dislodge me, will not miss them. They have already given me the information I need."
"As you command, Firelord," the old man said, a serene smile lining his face, awaiting the nod of his liege's head, before retreating back into the study.
The woman turned next towards the Lady in red, "Cyvia, continue to keep an eye on your red-haired friend. I don't need her and her band of fools gathering enough clout in the red temples to cause any of them to waver in their support of me. Not at this critical stage. Keep her muzzled. Also, see what you can find out about the rumors of the silver-haired girl. It may be a false lead, but if there is a chance that she is who I think she might be, then she would serve quite a unique purpose in my plans."
"She denies the truth, Firelord. If she moves to threaten you openly, the red temples will deal with her. They have continued to ignore her pleas that you are false, and so she remains a feeble whisper in the dark. As for the girl, I will contact my fellow worshippers and uncover what I can, Firelord," she bowed her head, and the woman waved her off. She seemed to glide out of the room with a nary a sound.
"Davos, return to your men, and inform them that they will be allowed to remain in port for a week, but no more. I have further tasks in need of you and your knowledge of the seas. Spend time with your family, see your sons in the academy, and do whatever you wish, but ensure that you and your men are present here by weeks end for your new assignment. Dismissed, and remember to close the door on your way out."
"Yes, milady Firelord," he bowed his head and replied, before walking out of the room and closing the door behind him. This left her and the Lady of Dragonstone alone in the small chamber.
She gestured to the opposite chair, "You may sit." Behind the woman's steepled hands, were her intense golden eyes, which remained fixed on her, as she sat down. While she was maneuvering herself into a comfortable position, the Lady of Dragonstone continued. "As I was saying, I learned a terrible lesson, and for some time I thought of ways to not suffer learning it again. Then the woman in red, Cyvia, came to me with an answer. She spoke of 'glamours.' Magic, from what I could tell, despite how primitive and distasteful the word sounds spilling from my mouth. These glamours allow individuals to gain the appearance of others, but not their mannerisms. When Qyburn first spoke of you, I hesitated, for you were from Braavos and I did not look too kindly upon that place. However, he said you were quite capable, at what you do, and I needed an answer to my problem, now. So I had the red priests loyal to me, keep an eye on you, as you traveled with that mummer's troupe. Once the information, relayed to me, had been corroborated by the others within my employ, I sent Davos to retrieve you." The woman locked eyes with her, a smile formed on her lips. "You are a smart one, aren't you?"
Lady Stork nodded her head in response, slightly off-put by the look in the woman's eyes.
"Good. Then I trust all the words I have been speaking are understood?"
"Yes," she responded, "You need me to impersonate someone?"
The Lady of Dragonstone leaned back into her luxurious chair, hands still steepled before her, the smile growing wider. She crossed her legs, and spoke, "Yes. I need you, to impersonate me…"
'That ship is enormous!' she thought in amazement, as the midday sun struck the golden trim at the bow of the monstrous ship. 'The Black Betha,' the small sail ship she was aboard, sailed past the imposing vessel. 'The Ozai,' as she later found out it was called, was docked near a large imposing structure. The construction, made of steel and iron, held several large plates of metal shielding, protecting the insides from the elements. What the little bits of sunlight, penetrating the interior of the metallic maw, revealed were steel skeletal-like pillars supporting the canopy and what appeared to be walkways complete with, what she later found out were, Flameguard and Firenation troopers, surrounding the smaller, though no less impressive ship, 'the Storm's Fury.' However, as striking as the building appeared, even she, a mummer from Braavos, could tell that a minimal amount of materials went into its construction. 'Almost as if it had been constructed in haste?' she thought. While she observed the 'steel castle' several sail ships, bearing golden Kraken sails, were seen being escorted by a larger number of royal ships. The small fleet of ships had disappeared around the metal structure, coming to dock somewhere along the southern part of the island, while 'the Black Betha' had been sailing towards the island's northern end.
"She is quite the beauty, isn't she?" spoke the captain of 'the Black Betha,' a man by the name of Davos Seaworth. He had come up behind her while she had been mesmerized by the metallic leviathan and its seaside cave. Together they stood from the bow of the slowly rocking ship, as he reclined himself on the railing. Davos, she had been told, had been a smuggler who had fallen under the Lady of Dragonstone's patronage following the events of King Robert's Rebellion.
She took a nip of wine from her small flask. "She is, she really is…" she uttered in response, the smuggler nodded his head in agreement. As the ship rounded the rocky outcropping, both saw the ship and building fade from view.
"It took quite some time to find you, milady," the smuggler said, still reclining on the railing.
"It is fortunate that you did find me. Your Lady Azula was most gracious with her coin," she said, twirling a Westrosi gold dragon between the fingers of her left hand, while firmly grasping the nearly empty flask in the other. "Any inkling as to why she sought me out?" The cool wind buffeted her long hair and simple clothing.
"Begging your pardon, milady, but it is not my place to detail milady Firelord's plans. She ordered me to find you, and find you I did," he said while staring out at the coastline of Dragonstone. 'Black Betha' began to slow as it neared its apparent destination, just off the coast. The only hint anything had been there, against the rocky cliff face, was a dull gray metal door with a large three-pronged golden flame emblazoned at its center. A pair of Firenation soldiers stood guard, the white faceplates focusing on the small ship. The smuggler captain touched her arm and urged her to go to the small landing craft roped to the side of his ship. "Time to go milady."
"It's about time, I do not think the sea to be a close friend of mine," she joked, as she and the captain strode across the deck towards the small awaiting craft.
"Nor was it mine, for a time, milady," he responded, with a chuckle, before he assisted her into the vessel. After she settled herself in, he joined her, along with four oarsmen, dressed in haggard clothing. "Lower us down, men! Wait for them," he respectfully nodded his head towards the oarsmen, "to return, before you dock at the island's harbor. I will be back at the docks, before night."
"Aye!" the crewmen answered, before readying the rope attached to the landing craft. The small boat started to lower, and the salty sea air began stimulating her nose and the gently crashing waves soothed her uncertain mind.
Izembaro, 'the King of the Mummers' as he liked to call himself, was the head of the Braavosi traveling troupe Lady Stork had been part of. He had been less than pleased when she had been approached with the Lady Azula's offer. The 'offer' being a tremendous amount of gold that she had not been able to dismiss. 'All the trouble this 'Lady Azula' had gone through to track her down was flattering,' she thought, 'and all to work as a glorified mummer,' a slight chuckle escaping her lips.
"Something amusing, milady?" asked the smuggler captain, as the small vessel kicked off from 'the Black Betha.' It began to slowly move towards the metal door, the waves gently nudging against the humble little boat.
"No, Davos, just reliving a memory," she smiled, as he murmured a response. He pointed towards the shore, and the dull metal door, which began to open. Emerging from the gloom was a small Yi-Tish looking woman, clad in a red and black uniform, trimmed in gold. A golden flame headpiece was fixed into her tight hair bun, glimmering in the sun. An old, slightly balding, man wearing a black maester-like robe stood to the woman's left side. To the woman's right stood a striking young Volantene woman in a form-fitting red dress. A blood-red cape draped across her body, nearly covering her entirely, billowing slightly in the breeze. The red woman had a head of flowing blonde, near white, hair and what appeared to be a ruby encrusted choker. All had been mirroring the Yi-Tish woman's enigmatic smile, as they waited for the boat to close the distance between them. The Yi-Tish woman stood there, her hands clasped at her back, while the old man and beautiful woman stood with arms hidden under their robes and cape. The door clanged shut behind the small group.
As the ship drew nearer, the small Yi-Tish woman began to bare her teeth in the most unnerving smile Lady Stork had ever seen. A dark glint crossed her eyes, 'As a predator awaiting its prey,'she thought. She felt the small ship slow to a stop, the water lapping up the sides before the smuggler captain offered his hand to assist her in exiting the craft.
"Milady?" he said, holding his hand out.
She stepped out into the shallow waters and lifted her dress so as to not get it saturated in the sloshing seawater. As her feet touched the rocky shore, she walked towards the woman and her small following. The smuggler waved the oarsmen away, and they shoved back out to sea towards the 'Black Betha.'
"Welcome to Dragonstone, Lady Stork!" she heard a silky smooth voice shout out in false welcome.
Lady Stork began to trudge towards the woman who remained inhumanly still. The only movement to come from the five figures in front of the metal door was that of their heads as they followed her and the smuggler trek across the stony beach. As she stood before the woman, she bowed her head, knowing this to be the custom when presented before a noble lord or lady. The smuggler to her left, Davos, followed her example and bowed his head in turn. "You may raise your heads, and look upon me," she commanded, her left arm motioning them to rise, whilst her right remained hidden behind her back.
"Milady Firelord, by your command I have brought you the mummer," spoke the smuggler.
The woman's feral smile fell from her face, a modest smirk overtaking it. "You have done well, Davos, and your loyalty is appreciated," she beamed, as Davos nodded his head, acknowledging the praise set before him. The woman then turned her attention towards, her, the simple mummer from Braavos. "And you, Lady Stork, I imagine you have a multitude of questions as to how I found out about you, and why I have brought you here?"
"Yes, my lady, it is a question that has plagued my mind during my journey here," came her response as she nodded her head. The strange blonde woman, with the red dress, whispered something into the Yi-Tish woman's ear. The Lady Azula tilted her head, to listen, before withdrawing. Afterward, the red woman returned to her peaceful pose and mysterious smile.
"Come with me," she gestured towards the two, Davos and Stork, before turning her back and leading them towards the metal door with the three-pronged flame. One of the guards reached for the handle and pulled the entry door open, a low metallic groan accompanied the opening door. The Yi-Tish woman looked back, and uttered, "We have much to discuss."
As the group entered the darkness, it took time for Lady Stork's eyes to adjust from the bright light of the sun to the dull light of torches within. The two Firenation guards had remained outside, shutting the entrance behind the group. Five individuals had entered and all but herself were prepared for what the dark hall, of stone and steel, held. The torches of dull red flame suddenly burst to life in a brilliant blue as the Yi-Tish woman passed them, leading them all down the intimidating corridor. The only sound accompanying the footsteps of the five were those of drops of water, or what she hoped was water, echoing throughout the halls. Several paths split from the main hall the five had been walking, some leading into brightly lit rooms, doors slightly ajar, and others down into even darker passages. She straggled behind, peering into one of these murkier halls, drawn to movement just past the reach of the calming blue light. Her eyes adjusted and caught sight of what appeared to be a pale white, naked, man. Patches of gray and black covered his arms, legs, and torso, 'the way armor would,' she thought, 'but these patches appeared to part of him?' As she struggled to make sense of the man, his milky white eyes turned towards her, and he opened his mouth in a silent scream. A loud 'clang!' startled Lady Stork, nearly causing her heart to explode out of its chest. As Lady Stork jerked her head back towards the main path, further down the hall, she noticed the bright blue flames dimming, reverting back to their dull red hue.
"Lady Stork?" echoed the menacingly sweet voice of the Yi-Tish woman. "It's unwise to get lost down here."
Before jolting down the main path to join the rest of the group, she cast one last glance down the dark hall and saw nothing. The pale man had vanished back into the abyss. Faster than lightning, she moved to rejoin the group further down the ever darkening hall, the sounds of numerous heavy feet following her every step of the way. Refusing to look back, and nearly at the edge of panic, she finally caught a glimpse of the safety of blue torchlight and heard the heavy footfalls recede back into the darkness. She rounded the corner, breathing heavily, having caught up with the group just outside a large black door. The others held slight grins on their faces, barring the smuggler, who seemed to be blissfully unaware of the monsters in the dark.
"Glad to have you back with us," spoke the Lady of Dragonstone, a dangerous glint in her eyes.
Lady Stork had wanted to scream, at her, and demand that she be allowed to leave. However, the look in the Yi-Tish woman's golden eyes told her all she needed to know. 'Go ahead and try.'
The Lady of Dragonstone reached to open the black door revealing a respectably sized study with several bits of the rocky cliff jutting out of the higher areas. The walls had been covered with stone to smooth out the surface, she saw. 'Likely to make the area more accommodating?' she thought, trying to distract herself from remembering the naked man in the dark hall. Several dangerous looking men and woman, clad in uniforms similar to the Lady of Dragonstone, occupied the study. Amongst them were a smattering of normal looking men and women. All of whom were dressed in various forms of loose red clothing, wearing chains and chokers encrusted with rubies. The rubies seemed to have held a soft glow in the dimness before the torches in the study flared blue. All those within rose to their feet and bowed their heads, with the ones in uniform holding out their hands, and somehow causing a fire to form within them.
Lady Stork jumped back in surprise as the fire erupted from the hands of those who shared the Yi-tish woman's style of dress and look of features. They continued walking towards the back of the study, before approaching a small bronze door emblazoned with a five-pronged flame. At the center of the flame was a fist-sized opening.
"You, specifically, were brought here because Qyburn recommended you," said the woman as she positioned her feet apart, coming into some form of combat stance.
The others stepped away from the woman and Lady Stork followed their lead. She felt her hair begin to stand on end as strands of crackling blue energy began to form at the tips of the Yi-tish woman's fingers. She twisted and arched her arms in a fluid motion, before releasing the built-up energy directly into the small opening at the center of the five-pronged flame that adorned the small bronze door. Flashes of blue emanated from within the opening. As the energy began to dissipate, Lady Stork held her breath, utterly dumbfounded at the woman's display of power. 'What gods have I angered? That would condemn me to a hell of monsters in the shadows and sorceress that control the very power of fire and lightning?' She heard a series of clicks and snaps before the door opened. The woman stretched her arms, causing several cracks and pops to emerge from her joints.
She turned her head towards her and spoke, "Recently being with child didn't lend itself well to satisfying levels of practice."
'Children?!?! She has children?!?!?' she thought, incredulously, of the small woman before her. The group passed through the door and entered a small room that held an ornate black desk, two chairs, a bookshelf, two torch stands, and tapestries. A red cloth trimmed in gold, and sporting a black three-pronged flame, draped along the center of the table. As the torches sprang in life, a blue glow illuminated the room and Lady Stork saw several books lining the small bookshelf behind the desk. A single chair stood before the desk, and Lady Stork felt that that was where she was to sit. Along the walls were small tapestries holding remarkably lifelike illustrations of people who shared the woman's features. The most prominent, amongst the tapestries, featured a portrait of a family, or what she assumed was a family, of four; all clad in red robes and clothing trimmed in gold. The mother, had her hands clasped and hidden beneath her robes, while the father's right hand rested on his knee, and his other on the right shoulder of his son. Both, the mother and father, sat upon two ornate chairs. Two children, a boy, and a girl, remained on their knees, at the foot of their parents. Their hands were resting, respectfully, between their legs. The four beheld Lady Stork, with stern gazes, barring the boy. There seemed to have been a bit of warmth beneath his eyes.
"From what he tells me, during his time with that sellsword company…" the woman began, causing her to snap her head back towards the woman. The woman paused, looking towards Qyburn, "what did they call themselves again?"
"The Brave Companions, Firelord," the old man answered.
"Ah yes, the Brave Companions," she said, rounding the desk to sit on the chair behind it. "During his time with them, he tells me you were quite the actress, or mummer, as you people call it," she continued. "Not too long ago, I was taught a lesson in humility that I do not seek to learn again. The cost had been too high…" she said the last harshly as the blue flames began rising higher, causing the small room to grow hotter. Noticing the shift, the Yi-tish woman let out a calming breath, before looking towards the small group who had entered the room with her. "Qyburn, you may continue with your work. Thus far, you have employed the knowledge within the scrolls, I gifted you, well. But, remember, I want more of them ready before the year is out. If needs be, use the captured spies, I'm sure the spider, and whatever other players seek to dislodge me, will not miss them. They have already given me the information I need."
"As you command, Firelord," the old man said, a serene smile lining his face, awaiting the nod of his liege's head, before retreating back into the study.
The woman turned next towards the Lady in red, "Cyvia, continue to keep an eye on your red-haired friend. I don't need her and her band of fools gathering enough clout in the red temples to cause any of them to waver in their support of me. Not at this critical stage. Keep her muzzled. Also, see what you can find out about the rumors of the silver-haired girl. It may be a false lead, but if there is a chance that she is who I think she might be, then she would serve quite a unique purpose in my plans."
"She denies the truth, Firelord. If she moves to threaten you openly, the red temples will deal with her. They have continued to ignore her pleas that you are false, and so she remains a feeble whisper in the dark. As for the girl, I will contact my fellow worshippers and uncover what I can, Firelord," she bowed her head, and the woman waved her off. She seemed to glide out of the room with a nary a sound.
"Davos, return to your men, and inform them that they will be allowed to remain in port for a week, but no more. I have further tasks in need of you and your knowledge of the seas. Spend time with your family, see your sons in the academy, and do whatever you wish, but ensure that you and your men are present here by weeks end for your new assignment. Dismissed, and remember to close the door on your way out."
"Yes, milady Firelord," he bowed his head and replied, before walking out of the room and closing the door behind him. This left her and the Lady of Dragonstone alone in the small chamber.
She gestured to the opposite chair, "You may sit." Behind the woman's steepled hands, were her intense golden eyes, which remained fixed on her, as she sat down. While she was maneuvering herself into a comfortable position, the Lady of Dragonstone continued. "As I was saying, I learned a terrible lesson, and for some time I thought of ways to not suffer learning it again. Then the woman in red, Cyvia, came to me with an answer. She spoke of 'glamours.' Magic, from what I could tell, despite how primitive and distasteful the word sounds spilling from my mouth. These glamours allow individuals to gain the appearance of others, but not their mannerisms. When Qyburn first spoke of you, I hesitated, for you were from Braavos and I did not look too kindly upon that place. However, he said you were quite capable, at what you do, and I needed an answer to my problem, now. So I had the red priests loyal to me, keep an eye on you, as you traveled with that mummer's troupe. Once the information, relayed to me, had been corroborated by the others within my employ, I sent Davos to retrieve you." The woman locked eyes with her, a smile formed on her lips. "You are a smart one, aren't you?"
Lady Stork nodded her head in response, slightly off-put by the look in the woman's eyes.
"Good. Then I trust all the words I have been speaking are understood?"
"Yes," she responded, "You need me to impersonate someone?"
The Lady of Dragonstone leaned back into her luxurious chair, hands still steepled before her, the smile growing wider. She crossed her legs, and spoke, "Yes. I need you, to impersonate me…"
(Winterfell: 2/12/295 AC) Arya I
- Location
- U.S.
(Winterfell: 2/12/295 AC) Arya I
'Faster, faster!' she thought to herself.
Arya Stark propelled herself through the courtyard, past the old well, and the smithy, in a rush to get to the Great Hall where her parents were breaking their fast. As she ran, several smallfolk and house servants had waved, and greeted her, some shouting words of warning "Careful Lady Stark!" With the cold wind biting at her face, Arya increased her speed. She was intent on hearing whether the whispers of receiving a ward from Dragonstone had been spoken true, and she needed to hear it from her parents herself. Arya had caught wind of this exciting development when she had 'accidentally' eavesdropped in on the hushed conversation her older brothers were having in regards to the subject. They had been heading out of the Great Keep, towards the Great Hall, to break their fast.
"What do you think Robb?" she remembered her brother Jon asking.
"Her mother is the Savior of Storm's End. Reportedly a great warrior with an even greater mind. Or was it the other way around?" Robb had responded, before continuing. "Her brother, Steffon Baratheon, is well liked by the people on Dragonstone and the other Narrow Sea houses sworn to his father. He has been known to tour the lands of the Narrow Sea houses, and even some houses within the Stormlands. Her father, Lord Stannis, is fairly well known, and her youngest sister is as much of a mystery as the Lady Ursa herself," he had said, slumping his shoulders at his lack of information. "I have asked Maester Luwin if he knows any more of her, so as to not seem as much of a fool when she arrives, but no information has been forthcoming as of yet. However, if Lady Ursa is anything like her mother, father, or brother, she will be a formidable presence, and…" Before Robb had finished wording his thoughts, Arya, in her blind curiosity, had run into a wall. A small tapestry decorating the partition had come tumbling down noisily enough to reveal her position in the shadows.
"Arya?" Jon had asked.
Before either of them could react, Arya had shot out of the hall within the Great Keep, and into the courtyard.
The Underfoot burst into Winterfell's Great Hall, as several of the Stark household were finishing up their morning meals. Ser Rodrik had a brief choking fit in response to the sudden and surprising arrival of the little Stark girl. Her mother and father gave her a stern look, while Sansa gave her an annoyed glance, and she turned her head slightly down in shame.
"Apologies Ser Rodrik," she said, glancing up at him timidly.
"No harm was done," he responded in between his hacking coughs, "little one." He cleared his throat and gave her a smile.
She smiled her response and continued down the hall at a swift walking pace. She came up toward the head table where her parents and sister were and took a seat next to her father.
"Arya, you mustn't barge into a great hall like that," he said in a serious, and quiet tone before her mother added.
"It is unseemly for a Lady to enter as such," she said, as the Lord of Winterfell nodded his head in agreement.
"I'm sorry," she said wholeheartedly before her father let a small smile form on his lips.
"I take it from your excitement, you have heard?" he said, as a confused look formed on Sansa's face.
"Is it true father, really? Is the Lady Ursa coming? I must know!" she questioned excitedly.
"The Lady Ursa?" Sansa asked quizzically from her mother's side "Father? Mother? What is happening?"
The Lord and Lady of Winterfell exchanged looks and broke the news to their only two daughters.
"For some time, Lord Stannis, Lady Azula, your mother, and I, have been writing each other with raven and hawk, about hosting their daughter, Ursa, as our ward," her father stated, with her mother soon following up.
"They believe sometime in the North, away from the distractions within Dragonstone and from the rest of the south, would be beneficial to her," she said.
"What does she dress like? Is she pretty? Has she ever met the crown prince?" Sansa chirped her mutual excitement at having a Lady from the south as a guest.
Arya scoffed, before launching her own barrage of questions, "What does she know of the Grand Academy? Is she a warrior? Can she fight? What is her mother like? Is she like her? What have you heard of the Lady Ursa?"
Her father's expression turned slightly dark, "That remains to be seen, but if she is anything like her mother, then expect more excitement than you planned for…"
Arya's mother, Catelyn Stark, broke the uneasy silence that her husband had left, "Many of those questions you can ask of her when she arrives. All your father and I know is that she is…difficult. Also, she will be arriving, by horse, along the King's Road. However, her parents have given us their assurances that she is well aware of the consequences of presenting anything less than her best behavior while a ward of Winterfell."
After that information had been passed to them, Arya and Sansa, had for the first time, shared a mutual feeling of anticipation while they waited for their new guest to arrive. Her sister, Sansa, would often speak of finally have someone her age to tell her of the South. Their mother did what she could with her stories about growing up in Riverrun, but they had eventually lost their magic. Even her tales of the tourneys, the feasts, the knights, and everything in between, could not liven them up again. Sansa had still appreciated them, of course, but the promise of fresh stories of courtly life in the south, from someone her age, brought out much hope in her.
Arya, herself, on the other hand, had quickly grown bored of all the knightly tales. She would seek out her father, or Maester Luwin, to learn about the Mormont women, their strength, and determination. About Visenya Targaryen, her dragon, her skill in battle, and how her wisdom brought about the formation of the King's Guard. Or the Princess Nymeria, and her conquest of Dorne. However, most recent of all were the stories of Azula Baratheon. The very much still living icon, of the strength of women, and the feats they were capable of, had Arya enamored with the thought of one day meeting her. Her mother, like always, spoke of Azula not being the example to follow.
"She butchered defeated men who had been asking for mercy. She had dishonorably attacked men in the night as they rested. She holds the company of murderers, smugglers, and heathen fanatics," she remembered her mother telling her one day when she had come across her playing outside. She had been armed with a small stick and had haphazardly made her hair into a bun topped with a makeshift flaming headpiece when her mother had asked who she had been pretending to be. Her mother had told her, "The pretty maidens from the songs are the examples you should strive to follow. You should be more like Sansa."
She remembered that hurting and her eyes beginning to water. "But I don't want to be like Sansa. I want to be…like her…," she remembered whispering as she pulled out the small, leaf-made, flame headpiece from her messy hair bun. She stared at the headpiece pensively before her mother broke the silence.
"Arya?" she asked, concern lining her face. She placed a hand on her shoulder and asked again. "Arya?"
"Mother? May I be excused?" she remembered uttering sadly. Before her mother could answer Arya turned her back towards her and walked dejectedly back to her room.
"Arya?!" she remembered her mother calling out. To her mother's credit, she had realized her error, and Arya remembered being grateful that her mother had chosen not to follow her, or force her back.
That had been months ago, and her relationship with her mother, while warm again, had not been completely the same. But with news of Azula's daughter being ward, Arya had hope. With any luck the daughter of Azula Baratheon would be as she imagined her to be; strong, fierce, and a warrior. For now, though, she waited. Sometimes her little brother Bran would wait with her. He was eager to meet the two Flameguard reportedly traveling with Ursa, and he had hope, like she did with Ursa, that perhaps one of the Flameguard accompanying Lady Ursa would take notice and perhaps take him in as a squire. Even Jon and Robb would accompany her during her silent vigils. Most times, however, she was alone as she sat atop the battlements alongside the south gate. Always staring, whenever she could, southward down along the King's Road.
******
(Winterfell: 4/3/295 AC) Arya I
After nearly two months of endless waiting had passed, Arya saw a shadow fly overhead. It was larger than a raven's, and it headed towards the rookery, within the Maester's Turret, where messenger ravens would land. Arya ran. She ran down the steps of the battlements, through the stables, past the bell tower, and to the steps of Maester Luwin's home within Winterfell. He opened the door and jumped back slightly in surprise.
"Lady Arya? What…" he began before she spoke.
"Is it from her? What did she say?" She asked through labored breaths.
"She will be here in three days," he said, "She also requested some room within the armory, be set aside, for her Flameguard's weaponry and armor…"
Arya frowned before she saw Luwin smile.
"Oh, and her weapons and armor as well. Pardon me, my lady, I am getting most forgetful at my old age. Now I must go and inform your parents. If you will excuse me?"
"Of course," she said quietly. After he was out of earshot, she bellowed, to no one in particular, "YES!" and raised both of her arms in victory. Arya did not remember sleeping much those next few nights.
******
(Winterfell: 4/6/295 AC) Arya I
On the day of Ursa's expected arrival, Arya had awoken early. She rushed towards the Great Hall, to break her fast, and wolfed down her food before rushing towards the battlements, and standing watch at her usual perch. After several hours, Bran and Jon had joined her. Sometime after midday, when Bran and Jon had gone to the Great Hall for their afternoon meal, she saw them. Two black forms against the patchy whiteness of the King's Road. The trailing form was slightly larger and, as it grew closer, she came to realize was two horses leading a small carriage. Two individuals were riding along the front of it, one considerably taller than the other, and controlling the reins. The second, smaller form, was at the head of the small caravan, and in her heart, Arya knew who it was. It skipped a beat, and she rushed down to the Great Hall, to inform her family. Her family had all been expecting Ursa to arrive this day, so all had been presentable, and within minutes, they had all gathered near the south gate. They would show themselves together, as a gesture of welcome, introduction, and hospitality. Arya was eager to stand in her place between Sansa and Bran. A horn sounded and the gate opened. Arya held her breath before a young woman with a stern face rode in on her black, armored horse, the carriage trailing behind her. She stopped near the base of the gate and held up her hand in a closed fist. The carriage stopped, and she dismounted her steed. She pet the unarmored side of its face, before stepping forward, away from it. Her dark red cloak, and deep black, shoulder length, hair billowed, in the slight breeze. It revealed a suit of black, gold-trimmed, leather armor, and boots, over red garments.
"Welcome to Winterfell, Lady Ursa," her father proclaimed, "treat our home as you would yours."
"Thank you, my lord," she said, bowing her head in respect. "I am honored to have you and your family as my hosts."
"The honor is ours, Lady Ursa," her father responded, with a smile, as he approached her. He held out his hand and guided her towards the rest of them. This is my wife, the Lady Catelyn.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Ursa, I hope your stay is comfortable and without incident," mother said before father moved on.
"This is my eldest, Robb," he said, and Arya saw her older brother's face grow slack, before he shook it off, nodded his head, and smiled stupidly.
Her father gave him a look, before continuing "This is my eldest daughter Sansa." As Ursa neared Sansa, Arya noticed Ursa being several inches taller than her elder sister.
'Hurry up and introduce us,' she thought to herself, her excitement growing with each family member passed.
"Pleasure to meet you, Lady Ursa," Sansa curtseyed, and smiled politely, if falsely. Arya knew enough of her sister to spot the differences between her genuine smiles, and her fake ones.
'Hah! Not what you were expecting?' her mind shouted in triumph. Her palms began to sweat, and before long, a shadow loomed over her.
"This is my youngest daughter, Arya," he stated, with a slight hint of amusement tugging at his lips.
She froze, staring at Ursa, those golden eyes piercing her soul. "Um…hello," she said awkwardly before mentally slapping herself, and Ursa moved on towards Bran and Rickon. All the while, Arya ran different scenarios in her mind, on how she had wanted to seem confident and impressive. She failed and felt miserable, too embarrassed to visit Ursa the rest of the day.
'Faster, faster!' she thought to herself.
Arya Stark propelled herself through the courtyard, past the old well, and the smithy, in a rush to get to the Great Hall where her parents were breaking their fast. As she ran, several smallfolk and house servants had waved, and greeted her, some shouting words of warning "Careful Lady Stark!" With the cold wind biting at her face, Arya increased her speed. She was intent on hearing whether the whispers of receiving a ward from Dragonstone had been spoken true, and she needed to hear it from her parents herself. Arya had caught wind of this exciting development when she had 'accidentally' eavesdropped in on the hushed conversation her older brothers were having in regards to the subject. They had been heading out of the Great Keep, towards the Great Hall, to break their fast.
"What do you think Robb?" she remembered her brother Jon asking.
"Her mother is the Savior of Storm's End. Reportedly a great warrior with an even greater mind. Or was it the other way around?" Robb had responded, before continuing. "Her brother, Steffon Baratheon, is well liked by the people on Dragonstone and the other Narrow Sea houses sworn to his father. He has been known to tour the lands of the Narrow Sea houses, and even some houses within the Stormlands. Her father, Lord Stannis, is fairly well known, and her youngest sister is as much of a mystery as the Lady Ursa herself," he had said, slumping his shoulders at his lack of information. "I have asked Maester Luwin if he knows any more of her, so as to not seem as much of a fool when she arrives, but no information has been forthcoming as of yet. However, if Lady Ursa is anything like her mother, father, or brother, she will be a formidable presence, and…" Before Robb had finished wording his thoughts, Arya, in her blind curiosity, had run into a wall. A small tapestry decorating the partition had come tumbling down noisily enough to reveal her position in the shadows.
"Arya?" Jon had asked.
Before either of them could react, Arya had shot out of the hall within the Great Keep, and into the courtyard.
The Underfoot burst into Winterfell's Great Hall, as several of the Stark household were finishing up their morning meals. Ser Rodrik had a brief choking fit in response to the sudden and surprising arrival of the little Stark girl. Her mother and father gave her a stern look, while Sansa gave her an annoyed glance, and she turned her head slightly down in shame.
"Apologies Ser Rodrik," she said, glancing up at him timidly.
"No harm was done," he responded in between his hacking coughs, "little one." He cleared his throat and gave her a smile.
She smiled her response and continued down the hall at a swift walking pace. She came up toward the head table where her parents and sister were and took a seat next to her father.
"Arya, you mustn't barge into a great hall like that," he said in a serious, and quiet tone before her mother added.
"It is unseemly for a Lady to enter as such," she said, as the Lord of Winterfell nodded his head in agreement.
"I'm sorry," she said wholeheartedly before her father let a small smile form on his lips.
"I take it from your excitement, you have heard?" he said, as a confused look formed on Sansa's face.
"Is it true father, really? Is the Lady Ursa coming? I must know!" she questioned excitedly.
"The Lady Ursa?" Sansa asked quizzically from her mother's side "Father? Mother? What is happening?"
The Lord and Lady of Winterfell exchanged looks and broke the news to their only two daughters.
"For some time, Lord Stannis, Lady Azula, your mother, and I, have been writing each other with raven and hawk, about hosting their daughter, Ursa, as our ward," her father stated, with her mother soon following up.
"They believe sometime in the North, away from the distractions within Dragonstone and from the rest of the south, would be beneficial to her," she said.
"What does she dress like? Is she pretty? Has she ever met the crown prince?" Sansa chirped her mutual excitement at having a Lady from the south as a guest.
Arya scoffed, before launching her own barrage of questions, "What does she know of the Grand Academy? Is she a warrior? Can she fight? What is her mother like? Is she like her? What have you heard of the Lady Ursa?"
Her father's expression turned slightly dark, "That remains to be seen, but if she is anything like her mother, then expect more excitement than you planned for…"
Arya's mother, Catelyn Stark, broke the uneasy silence that her husband had left, "Many of those questions you can ask of her when she arrives. All your father and I know is that she is…difficult. Also, she will be arriving, by horse, along the King's Road. However, her parents have given us their assurances that she is well aware of the consequences of presenting anything less than her best behavior while a ward of Winterfell."
After that information had been passed to them, Arya and Sansa, had for the first time, shared a mutual feeling of anticipation while they waited for their new guest to arrive. Her sister, Sansa, would often speak of finally have someone her age to tell her of the South. Their mother did what she could with her stories about growing up in Riverrun, but they had eventually lost their magic. Even her tales of the tourneys, the feasts, the knights, and everything in between, could not liven them up again. Sansa had still appreciated them, of course, but the promise of fresh stories of courtly life in the south, from someone her age, brought out much hope in her.
Arya, herself, on the other hand, had quickly grown bored of all the knightly tales. She would seek out her father, or Maester Luwin, to learn about the Mormont women, their strength, and determination. About Visenya Targaryen, her dragon, her skill in battle, and how her wisdom brought about the formation of the King's Guard. Or the Princess Nymeria, and her conquest of Dorne. However, most recent of all were the stories of Azula Baratheon. The very much still living icon, of the strength of women, and the feats they were capable of, had Arya enamored with the thought of one day meeting her. Her mother, like always, spoke of Azula not being the example to follow.
"She butchered defeated men who had been asking for mercy. She had dishonorably attacked men in the night as they rested. She holds the company of murderers, smugglers, and heathen fanatics," she remembered her mother telling her one day when she had come across her playing outside. She had been armed with a small stick and had haphazardly made her hair into a bun topped with a makeshift flaming headpiece when her mother had asked who she had been pretending to be. Her mother had told her, "The pretty maidens from the songs are the examples you should strive to follow. You should be more like Sansa."
She remembered that hurting and her eyes beginning to water. "But I don't want to be like Sansa. I want to be…like her…," she remembered whispering as she pulled out the small, leaf-made, flame headpiece from her messy hair bun. She stared at the headpiece pensively before her mother broke the silence.
"Arya?" she asked, concern lining her face. She placed a hand on her shoulder and asked again. "Arya?"
"Mother? May I be excused?" she remembered uttering sadly. Before her mother could answer Arya turned her back towards her and walked dejectedly back to her room.
"Arya?!" she remembered her mother calling out. To her mother's credit, she had realized her error, and Arya remembered being grateful that her mother had chosen not to follow her, or force her back.
That had been months ago, and her relationship with her mother, while warm again, had not been completely the same. But with news of Azula's daughter being ward, Arya had hope. With any luck the daughter of Azula Baratheon would be as she imagined her to be; strong, fierce, and a warrior. For now, though, she waited. Sometimes her little brother Bran would wait with her. He was eager to meet the two Flameguard reportedly traveling with Ursa, and he had hope, like she did with Ursa, that perhaps one of the Flameguard accompanying Lady Ursa would take notice and perhaps take him in as a squire. Even Jon and Robb would accompany her during her silent vigils. Most times, however, she was alone as she sat atop the battlements alongside the south gate. Always staring, whenever she could, southward down along the King's Road.
******
(Winterfell: 4/3/295 AC) Arya I
After nearly two months of endless waiting had passed, Arya saw a shadow fly overhead. It was larger than a raven's, and it headed towards the rookery, within the Maester's Turret, where messenger ravens would land. Arya ran. She ran down the steps of the battlements, through the stables, past the bell tower, and to the steps of Maester Luwin's home within Winterfell. He opened the door and jumped back slightly in surprise.
"Lady Arya? What…" he began before she spoke.
"Is it from her? What did she say?" She asked through labored breaths.
"She will be here in three days," he said, "She also requested some room within the armory, be set aside, for her Flameguard's weaponry and armor…"
Arya frowned before she saw Luwin smile.
"Oh, and her weapons and armor as well. Pardon me, my lady, I am getting most forgetful at my old age. Now I must go and inform your parents. If you will excuse me?"
"Of course," she said quietly. After he was out of earshot, she bellowed, to no one in particular, "YES!" and raised both of her arms in victory. Arya did not remember sleeping much those next few nights.
******
(Winterfell: 4/6/295 AC) Arya I
On the day of Ursa's expected arrival, Arya had awoken early. She rushed towards the Great Hall, to break her fast, and wolfed down her food before rushing towards the battlements, and standing watch at her usual perch. After several hours, Bran and Jon had joined her. Sometime after midday, when Bran and Jon had gone to the Great Hall for their afternoon meal, she saw them. Two black forms against the patchy whiteness of the King's Road. The trailing form was slightly larger and, as it grew closer, she came to realize was two horses leading a small carriage. Two individuals were riding along the front of it, one considerably taller than the other, and controlling the reins. The second, smaller form, was at the head of the small caravan, and in her heart, Arya knew who it was. It skipped a beat, and she rushed down to the Great Hall, to inform her family. Her family had all been expecting Ursa to arrive this day, so all had been presentable, and within minutes, they had all gathered near the south gate. They would show themselves together, as a gesture of welcome, introduction, and hospitality. Arya was eager to stand in her place between Sansa and Bran. A horn sounded and the gate opened. Arya held her breath before a young woman with a stern face rode in on her black, armored horse, the carriage trailing behind her. She stopped near the base of the gate and held up her hand in a closed fist. The carriage stopped, and she dismounted her steed. She pet the unarmored side of its face, before stepping forward, away from it. Her dark red cloak, and deep black, shoulder length, hair billowed, in the slight breeze. It revealed a suit of black, gold-trimmed, leather armor, and boots, over red garments.
"Welcome to Winterfell, Lady Ursa," her father proclaimed, "treat our home as you would yours."
"Thank you, my lord," she said, bowing her head in respect. "I am honored to have you and your family as my hosts."
"The honor is ours, Lady Ursa," her father responded, with a smile, as he approached her. He held out his hand and guided her towards the rest of them. This is my wife, the Lady Catelyn.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Ursa, I hope your stay is comfortable and without incident," mother said before father moved on.
"This is my eldest, Robb," he said, and Arya saw her older brother's face grow slack, before he shook it off, nodded his head, and smiled stupidly.
Her father gave him a look, before continuing "This is my eldest daughter Sansa." As Ursa neared Sansa, Arya noticed Ursa being several inches taller than her elder sister.
'Hurry up and introduce us,' she thought to herself, her excitement growing with each family member passed.
"Pleasure to meet you, Lady Ursa," Sansa curtseyed, and smiled politely, if falsely. Arya knew enough of her sister to spot the differences between her genuine smiles, and her fake ones.
'Hah! Not what you were expecting?' her mind shouted in triumph. Her palms began to sweat, and before long, a shadow loomed over her.
"This is my youngest daughter, Arya," he stated, with a slight hint of amusement tugging at his lips.
She froze, staring at Ursa, those golden eyes piercing her soul. "Um…hello," she said awkwardly before mentally slapping herself, and Ursa moved on towards Bran and Rickon. All the while, Arya ran different scenarios in her mind, on how she had wanted to seem confident and impressive. She failed and felt miserable, too embarrassed to visit Ursa the rest of the day.
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(Bay of Ice: 7/1/297 AC) Dagmer
- Location
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(Bay of Ice: 7/1/297 AC) Dagmer
"Damn this accursed cold," said the man with the snowy white beard, teeth chattering beneath his split lips. "There is nothing but shriveled cock and balls to be found on this damned wasteland of a coast." He heard grumbles and halfhearted acknowledgments from the crew, most of which had been too busy bundling up to muster anything more than that as a response. His longship, the Foamdrinker, had surprisingly survived King Balon's short-lived rebellion. 'Even after that damned 'Storm Queen' gave the rest of the Iron Fleet a sound thrashing,' he thought.
******
Pyke (289 AC)
"Once Rodrik returns from Seagard, and joins his fleet with Victarion's, we will have the forces necessary to sink the remaining fleets of Westeros. White Harbor, Gulltown, all of them, shall find a 'home' with the Drowned God! Their women, their children, will be ours! Their men dead! WE DO NOT SOW!" he said, to the roar of the gathered Ironmen. "Stannis' bitch rid us of the Redwynes. Ensuring that they, and those wilted flowers, can do nothing but cower in fear of the Iron Fleet! I will take the damned Butcher of Shipbreaker as my salt wife. I will kill Stannis and his son, and 'feed' their daughter to my most loyal Ironborn!" he continued, the fervor and energy of the gathered men growing in intensity. "None shall EVER question who rules the seas!" finished proclaiming, King Balon, confidently. His king, now and always. Dagmer stood there, grinning, taking it all in. He was Ironborn, and they would take a kingdom for their king, or die trying! But first, they needed to rid themselves of the other man who held the title of 'King.'
"That fool King Robert," the king spat, "is no king worth following, his rule is weak, his kingdoms are splintered, and his forces are…" before his disparagement of Robert had been completed, a messenger barged into the throne room.
"My king!" the small man stated, with a spine only the strongest of Ironmen could bear.
"What is it!?!" demanded his liege.
"The Lord Captain. His Fleet. Your son. Seagard…" he began, eyes staring directly towards the cold eyes of his monarch, "they were lost."
And like that, this rebellion died. Unceremoniously and with only a scant few weeks to be noted in a history book. 'There was no recovering from this humiliation,' Dagmer said to himself. 'To be bested was one thing. To be bested on the seas, another, but to be bested on the seas by a woman?!? The tales of the Butcher of Shipbreaker Bay, earning her title, had not been exaggerated it seems. How could it be? That the entirety of the Redwyne fleet, was destroyed in a single night? To the last man?! It was Madness! But there it was. The Kraken had placed itself on the butcher's platter, expecting to strangle her with its flailing arms. Hopelessly useless out of the water, she contemptuously placed her hand over its thrashing appendages, cut, cooked, and consumed it, without even a second glance.' He had noticed that Euron, King Balon's younger brother had not been mention as having been lost.
"WHAT?! How!? What of Euron?!" commanded the Lord Reaper of Pyke, his mind likely going through the same thoughts but ultimately choosing denial at all the tales and rumors of the Butcher.
"The Butcher…my King. She came upon the Lord Captain's fleet after the burning and sack of Lannisport."
"Impossible! No ship is that fast, it can't be!" he interrupted. "Her ship is of Iron and steel, she came from Dragonstone! That is on the other side of the damned continent! It simply cannot be! It can not!"
"But it is, my king, and as for the whereabouts of your brother, Euron, they are still unknown." resumed the man, even before the King's glare.
'He had stones, that one,' he thought.
"She overtook the Lord Captain's fleet with her Iron Ship, and destroyed them, before turning towards Lannisport to assist in calming the fires. A smaller Iron vessel, accompanying the Butcher's ship, was being captained by Lord Stannis and entered Ironman's bay. While the Butcher focused on assisting Lannisport, with a handful of royal ships, Lord Stannis and the remainder of the Royal fleet cut off the Ironfleet in Ironman's Bay, and Lord Mallister routed the Ironborn storming Seagard. Your son, Rodrik, is dead."
"What is dead may never die," responded his king, eyes glazed over in hate, slowly building their fury.
"But rises again harder and stronger!" responded the gathered Ironmen in the throne room, before the Salt Throne.
King Balon shot a glance at Dagmer, before demanding, "Cleftjaw! Rally what ships and men you can from our forces on the Island's, and ready them for a counterattack!"
'A counterattack? With what? Most of our power had been with Rodrik and Victarion!' thought Dagmer, what short-lived confidence his king had had, seemingly evaporated into madness.
******
(Bay of Ice: 7/1/297 AC) Dagmer
He had been prowling the bay of ice and the parts of the frozen shore he could make it through, for several weeks now, with no luck. 'Reduced to raiding north of the wall! That damned rebellion! That damned woman! She had cut off the Ironborn's balls and had demanded Balon's head as well, only to be denied by King Robert.' He had been there, as Balon had been forced to kneel, as the woman had made her thoughts known, and if she could not have Balon's head, she would have his son.
******
Pyke (289 AC)
He looked on in defeat and humiliation, as his King, King Balon, had been dragged before the usurper in chains. They had all been present, Robert and Stannis Baratheon, Eddard Stark, Tywin Lannister, all of them. However, only one amongst the Greenlanders had stood out, only one, and he had immediately refused to believe that that small wisp of a woman was the one who had inflicted so much destruction and shame upon the Iron Islands. 'The Butcher' had not been the large monster he had imagined, she was small of frame and appeared as if the slightest strike of a hand would break her. Then, as if reading his mind, she regarded him. A bored expression lined her face, while her lips were pouted in annoyance. She held her arms crossed over her chest and had let her left finger tap her right arm impatiently. For what seemed like an eternity, her eyes remained fixed on his, and he thought 'Those were not the eyes of a weakling. Those were the eyes of a monster,' and they would brook no failure, suffer no enemies. Just as quickly as she had glanced at him, her attention had snapped back to Robert Baratheon and Balon Greyjoy.
"You may take my head, but you cannot name me traitor. No Greyjoy ever swore fealty to a Baratheon," his king said in defiance, glancing every so often at the small woman, who wore a smirk on her face.
"Swear one now or lose that stubborn head of yours," responded King Robert.
The oaths of fealty uttered by his king had been painful and strained, from what he recalled, but all sound had been lost to him at that point. He only acknowledged the woman, now, and how her face grew a sneer at the mercy Robert had shown. When she spoke after Balon had finished his oath, and Robert had commanded that Theon be given to House Stark, the silence in his mind had been shattered. Her words made the room seem smaller and had made the great men, gathered, seem like children.
"Your grace, I beg your pardon, but you're wasting your time," she began, half looking towards Balon and Robert "Balon Greyjoy will rebel again, once the sting of this defeat washes away."
"What would you have me do? Take his head after he has sworn to me, I am not the mad king!" Robert responded, his anger rising.
"No, I suggest a compromise and a solution to another problem we face."
"Which is?" Robert queried.
"Iron, for the ships you have commanded me to build. The Iron Islands have much of the ore needed to make your 'Crowned Fleet.' I propose you give Stannis, and I, Theon Greyjoy. Lord Greyjoy hates us most of all, but in his hate is a begrudging feeling of respect," she stated, before being interrupted.
"You know nothing of me whore!" shouted his former king. Lord Stannis gripped his sword before his lady wife placed a calming hand on his shoulder. He tilted his head towards his lady wife and they remained gazing into one another's eyes, silently discussing what was to be done of that outburst. After a few tense moments, Lord Stannis nodded his head and relaxed his grip on the weapon at his side.
"I know more about you than you know about yourself, Greyjoy," she spat, "How do I know this? It's because I'm a people person, and your intent is written all over your face. However, one truth will never slip your mind and that is, that you know we, my Lord Husband and I, smashed your fleet. We cast down your walls, killed your brothers, and we paid the iron price to have to your son," His king hurled withering gazes towards her while trying to futilely conceive a reply. The woman smirked, at his failure, and spun around to address King Robert and Lord Eddard directly, "While I respect and acknowledge Lord Eddard's honor and sense of justice, if he raises Theon, he will raise him as his own. This may cause him to hesitate to do what is necessary when Lord Greyjoy ultimately rebels again, we will not suffer the same sense of mercy. Of course, Lord Stark, it is possible I have misjudged you. If I have, then you have my apologies," she said, casting an apologetic glance towards the Warden of the North, to which he responded.
"Aye. You cannot ask me to raise a child, your grace, not one that I may need to kill if the time comes."
Robert Baratheon regarded his friend and spoke in jest, "Gods damn you and your honor Ned!" before turning towards the sole lady in the room. "Continue."
"As I was saying, we will, in fact, raise Theon, to be the greatest Ironborn the world would ever see. And if Balon ever decides to rebel again, Theon will be the one to take your head," she declared, focusing her gaze fully on his Lord and brief king, "and in so doing he would have paid the iron price for lordship of your Islands," she continued, as the Lord Reaper of Pyke glared at her with revulsion bubbling up beneath his eyes, "When that happens, not only will we have the assured fealty of the next Lord of the Iron Islands, your grace, but we will have complete access to enough ore to build a thousand iron ships!"
'A thousand? Of those monsters? Was there enough Iron ore on the Islands for such a fleet? Possibly? It could be an exaggeration,' he thought.
"Well, bloody hell! Why didn't you say that in the first place! You women and your longwinded explanations!" he said jokingly, while his brother, Lord Stannis, frowned.
******
(Bay of Ice: 7/1/297 AC) Dagmer
There had been a few wildling camps he had seen, several pillars of black smoke indicating habitation, deeper inland, but when he came to investigate, there were only a handful of weakened wildling families or an empty camp. The wildling families he had encountered had fought back briefly before succumbing and being slain. Several of the wildling women had willingly gone with his Ironmen crew, mumbling about escaping the demons of ice.
"Demons of ice?" shouted one of the Ironmen, in jest, mimicking a terrified woman, as they began their second round at scouring the very dead, very cold, coast. "No! Keep them away! Come save me with your big strong cocks, Ironmen!" exclaimed another. All began laughing, even Dagmer himself, the whole idea of 'Demons of ice' was absurd to him. He had heard tales of the dreaded 'Others' and paid them no mind, 'they had all been destroyed eight thousand years ago if they had even existed, and if they were returning they had certainly taken their bloody time!' The ship slightly shifted side to side, in response to some errant waves.
"Captain!" shouted a crewman.
"What is it, you pig fucker?!" he said to a roar of laughs between chattering teeth.
"A wildling camp, a large one!"
"Well let us have a look!" he drew out his Myrish far-eye, and saw in the distance, near the shore, a large camp of wildlings. All had their backs towards the sea, no fires, but certainly many fine women, from what he could tell at any rate. If the various heads of long hair buffeting in the cold winds, were any indication, they were fine indeed! 'Even one with red hair!' he thought, "Kissed by fire? That one's mine!" He truly had no way of knowing from this distance, of course, but maybe he was just getting desperate? "Ready yourselves men," he commanded, "we are going ashore!"
"Damn this accursed cold," said the man with the snowy white beard, teeth chattering beneath his split lips. "There is nothing but shriveled cock and balls to be found on this damned wasteland of a coast." He heard grumbles and halfhearted acknowledgments from the crew, most of which had been too busy bundling up to muster anything more than that as a response. His longship, the Foamdrinker, had surprisingly survived King Balon's short-lived rebellion. 'Even after that damned 'Storm Queen' gave the rest of the Iron Fleet a sound thrashing,' he thought.
******
Pyke (289 AC)
"Once Rodrik returns from Seagard, and joins his fleet with Victarion's, we will have the forces necessary to sink the remaining fleets of Westeros. White Harbor, Gulltown, all of them, shall find a 'home' with the Drowned God! Their women, their children, will be ours! Their men dead! WE DO NOT SOW!" he said, to the roar of the gathered Ironmen. "Stannis' bitch rid us of the Redwynes. Ensuring that they, and those wilted flowers, can do nothing but cower in fear of the Iron Fleet! I will take the damned Butcher of Shipbreaker as my salt wife. I will kill Stannis and his son, and 'feed' their daughter to my most loyal Ironborn!" he continued, the fervor and energy of the gathered men growing in intensity. "None shall EVER question who rules the seas!" finished proclaiming, King Balon, confidently. His king, now and always. Dagmer stood there, grinning, taking it all in. He was Ironborn, and they would take a kingdom for their king, or die trying! But first, they needed to rid themselves of the other man who held the title of 'King.'
"That fool King Robert," the king spat, "is no king worth following, his rule is weak, his kingdoms are splintered, and his forces are…" before his disparagement of Robert had been completed, a messenger barged into the throne room.
"My king!" the small man stated, with a spine only the strongest of Ironmen could bear.
"What is it!?!" demanded his liege.
"The Lord Captain. His Fleet. Your son. Seagard…" he began, eyes staring directly towards the cold eyes of his monarch, "they were lost."
And like that, this rebellion died. Unceremoniously and with only a scant few weeks to be noted in a history book. 'There was no recovering from this humiliation,' Dagmer said to himself. 'To be bested was one thing. To be bested on the seas, another, but to be bested on the seas by a woman?!? The tales of the Butcher of Shipbreaker Bay, earning her title, had not been exaggerated it seems. How could it be? That the entirety of the Redwyne fleet, was destroyed in a single night? To the last man?! It was Madness! But there it was. The Kraken had placed itself on the butcher's platter, expecting to strangle her with its flailing arms. Hopelessly useless out of the water, she contemptuously placed her hand over its thrashing appendages, cut, cooked, and consumed it, without even a second glance.' He had noticed that Euron, King Balon's younger brother had not been mention as having been lost.
"WHAT?! How!? What of Euron?!" commanded the Lord Reaper of Pyke, his mind likely going through the same thoughts but ultimately choosing denial at all the tales and rumors of the Butcher.
"The Butcher…my King. She came upon the Lord Captain's fleet after the burning and sack of Lannisport."
"Impossible! No ship is that fast, it can't be!" he interrupted. "Her ship is of Iron and steel, she came from Dragonstone! That is on the other side of the damned continent! It simply cannot be! It can not!"
"But it is, my king, and as for the whereabouts of your brother, Euron, they are still unknown." resumed the man, even before the King's glare.
'He had stones, that one,' he thought.
"She overtook the Lord Captain's fleet with her Iron Ship, and destroyed them, before turning towards Lannisport to assist in calming the fires. A smaller Iron vessel, accompanying the Butcher's ship, was being captained by Lord Stannis and entered Ironman's bay. While the Butcher focused on assisting Lannisport, with a handful of royal ships, Lord Stannis and the remainder of the Royal fleet cut off the Ironfleet in Ironman's Bay, and Lord Mallister routed the Ironborn storming Seagard. Your son, Rodrik, is dead."
"What is dead may never die," responded his king, eyes glazed over in hate, slowly building their fury.
"But rises again harder and stronger!" responded the gathered Ironmen in the throne room, before the Salt Throne.
King Balon shot a glance at Dagmer, before demanding, "Cleftjaw! Rally what ships and men you can from our forces on the Island's, and ready them for a counterattack!"
'A counterattack? With what? Most of our power had been with Rodrik and Victarion!' thought Dagmer, what short-lived confidence his king had had, seemingly evaporated into madness.
******
(Bay of Ice: 7/1/297 AC) Dagmer
He had been prowling the bay of ice and the parts of the frozen shore he could make it through, for several weeks now, with no luck. 'Reduced to raiding north of the wall! That damned rebellion! That damned woman! She had cut off the Ironborn's balls and had demanded Balon's head as well, only to be denied by King Robert.' He had been there, as Balon had been forced to kneel, as the woman had made her thoughts known, and if she could not have Balon's head, she would have his son.
******
Pyke (289 AC)
He looked on in defeat and humiliation, as his King, King Balon, had been dragged before the usurper in chains. They had all been present, Robert and Stannis Baratheon, Eddard Stark, Tywin Lannister, all of them. However, only one amongst the Greenlanders had stood out, only one, and he had immediately refused to believe that that small wisp of a woman was the one who had inflicted so much destruction and shame upon the Iron Islands. 'The Butcher' had not been the large monster he had imagined, she was small of frame and appeared as if the slightest strike of a hand would break her. Then, as if reading his mind, she regarded him. A bored expression lined her face, while her lips were pouted in annoyance. She held her arms crossed over her chest and had let her left finger tap her right arm impatiently. For what seemed like an eternity, her eyes remained fixed on his, and he thought 'Those were not the eyes of a weakling. Those were the eyes of a monster,' and they would brook no failure, suffer no enemies. Just as quickly as she had glanced at him, her attention had snapped back to Robert Baratheon and Balon Greyjoy.
"You may take my head, but you cannot name me traitor. No Greyjoy ever swore fealty to a Baratheon," his king said in defiance, glancing every so often at the small woman, who wore a smirk on her face.
"Swear one now or lose that stubborn head of yours," responded King Robert.
The oaths of fealty uttered by his king had been painful and strained, from what he recalled, but all sound had been lost to him at that point. He only acknowledged the woman, now, and how her face grew a sneer at the mercy Robert had shown. When she spoke after Balon had finished his oath, and Robert had commanded that Theon be given to House Stark, the silence in his mind had been shattered. Her words made the room seem smaller and had made the great men, gathered, seem like children.
"Your grace, I beg your pardon, but you're wasting your time," she began, half looking towards Balon and Robert "Balon Greyjoy will rebel again, once the sting of this defeat washes away."
"What would you have me do? Take his head after he has sworn to me, I am not the mad king!" Robert responded, his anger rising.
"No, I suggest a compromise and a solution to another problem we face."
"Which is?" Robert queried.
"Iron, for the ships you have commanded me to build. The Iron Islands have much of the ore needed to make your 'Crowned Fleet.' I propose you give Stannis, and I, Theon Greyjoy. Lord Greyjoy hates us most of all, but in his hate is a begrudging feeling of respect," she stated, before being interrupted.
"You know nothing of me whore!" shouted his former king. Lord Stannis gripped his sword before his lady wife placed a calming hand on his shoulder. He tilted his head towards his lady wife and they remained gazing into one another's eyes, silently discussing what was to be done of that outburst. After a few tense moments, Lord Stannis nodded his head and relaxed his grip on the weapon at his side.
"I know more about you than you know about yourself, Greyjoy," she spat, "How do I know this? It's because I'm a people person, and your intent is written all over your face. However, one truth will never slip your mind and that is, that you know we, my Lord Husband and I, smashed your fleet. We cast down your walls, killed your brothers, and we paid the iron price to have to your son," His king hurled withering gazes towards her while trying to futilely conceive a reply. The woman smirked, at his failure, and spun around to address King Robert and Lord Eddard directly, "While I respect and acknowledge Lord Eddard's honor and sense of justice, if he raises Theon, he will raise him as his own. This may cause him to hesitate to do what is necessary when Lord Greyjoy ultimately rebels again, we will not suffer the same sense of mercy. Of course, Lord Stark, it is possible I have misjudged you. If I have, then you have my apologies," she said, casting an apologetic glance towards the Warden of the North, to which he responded.
"Aye. You cannot ask me to raise a child, your grace, not one that I may need to kill if the time comes."
Robert Baratheon regarded his friend and spoke in jest, "Gods damn you and your honor Ned!" before turning towards the sole lady in the room. "Continue."
"As I was saying, we will, in fact, raise Theon, to be the greatest Ironborn the world would ever see. And if Balon ever decides to rebel again, Theon will be the one to take your head," she declared, focusing her gaze fully on his Lord and brief king, "and in so doing he would have paid the iron price for lordship of your Islands," she continued, as the Lord Reaper of Pyke glared at her with revulsion bubbling up beneath his eyes, "When that happens, not only will we have the assured fealty of the next Lord of the Iron Islands, your grace, but we will have complete access to enough ore to build a thousand iron ships!"
'A thousand? Of those monsters? Was there enough Iron ore on the Islands for such a fleet? Possibly? It could be an exaggeration,' he thought.
"Well, bloody hell! Why didn't you say that in the first place! You women and your longwinded explanations!" he said jokingly, while his brother, Lord Stannis, frowned.
******
(Bay of Ice: 7/1/297 AC) Dagmer
There had been a few wildling camps he had seen, several pillars of black smoke indicating habitation, deeper inland, but when he came to investigate, there were only a handful of weakened wildling families or an empty camp. The wildling families he had encountered had fought back briefly before succumbing and being slain. Several of the wildling women had willingly gone with his Ironmen crew, mumbling about escaping the demons of ice.
"Demons of ice?" shouted one of the Ironmen, in jest, mimicking a terrified woman, as they began their second round at scouring the very dead, very cold, coast. "No! Keep them away! Come save me with your big strong cocks, Ironmen!" exclaimed another. All began laughing, even Dagmer himself, the whole idea of 'Demons of ice' was absurd to him. He had heard tales of the dreaded 'Others' and paid them no mind, 'they had all been destroyed eight thousand years ago if they had even existed, and if they were returning they had certainly taken their bloody time!' The ship slightly shifted side to side, in response to some errant waves.
"Captain!" shouted a crewman.
"What is it, you pig fucker?!" he said to a roar of laughs between chattering teeth.
"A wildling camp, a large one!"
"Well let us have a look!" he drew out his Myrish far-eye, and saw in the distance, near the shore, a large camp of wildlings. All had their backs towards the sea, no fires, but certainly many fine women, from what he could tell at any rate. If the various heads of long hair buffeting in the cold winds, were any indication, they were fine indeed! 'Even one with red hair!' he thought, "Kissed by fire? That one's mine!" He truly had no way of knowing from this distance, of course, but maybe he was just getting desperate? "Ready yourselves men," he commanded, "we are going ashore!"
(Dragonstone: 12/22/297 AC) Mai I
- Location
- U.S.
(Dragonstone: 12/22/297 AC) Mai I
A fruity, floral, aroma greeted her nostrils, as she exited the lift. The dark, though well kept, underground hall, was inundated with the sweet-smelling fragrance.
'Likely because the last time I was here it smelled like rotting offal,' Mai thought to herself. 'I suppose the old man is finally cleaning up after himself?'
Azula, Mai's childhood friend, and current sitting Fire Lord, had summoned her down into this specially made hell.
'Only she could have designed, and constructed, something like…this…,' Mai frowned in thought, though not necessarily in disagreement. After Ty Lee, Mai cared nothing for the enemies of Azula, 'Let them challenge her, let them fall to her, let them fear her…' she had often found herself thinking terribly. The lift rail, behind her, clanged shut, while the dull red torches lining the walls of the hall flared blue. 'She's here,' Mai found herself relaxing at the thought. Her mental utterance rang true, and the iron door, with the Firenation crest, unlocked and opened ahead.
Mai found herself straightening up, and keeping the title 'Firelord' waiting on her lips, as Azula slipped into view. She had been ready to slap her left-hand fist into her open right palm before Azula waved her off.
"No need for that, Mai, not from you," she stated, causing Mai to raise an eyebrow in surprise. Azula had caught her reflexive gesture, and snorted, "Surprised? I would be too, but sometimes everyone bowing, all the time, gets boring." Azula held the door open for her, as she continued speaking. "Even as that statement leaves my lips, I still cannot comprehend that I've said it," Azula laughed her cheerless laugh before she turned to her. "But seriously, it feels…hollow. I will gain more satisfaction from it when I control something more than just these dreary rocks!"
"It's not so bad," Mai thought aloud, causing Azula to blink. "I will admit," she uttered flatly, as she passed through the threshold, "this place has grown on me." Azula followed her in and began shutting the iron door behind them. A slow metallic groan echoed throughout the underground complex, and the nearby torches erupted into wavy pillars of blue flame. The loud 'clank' of a locking door followed shortly thereafter.
As they walked, side by side, Azula spoke, "Perhaps, but some do not share your opinion, while others cannot share your opinion."
"Ursa?" she asked, as they passed near a blue-hued torch.
Azula sighed in exasperation. "Ursa still needs time. She needs to be away from here, the competition, and the games. If she remains here, she will turn out like him," Azula looked towards her, and stated bluntly, "You know who I mean."
Mai nodded her response. 'Ozai,' she thought.
Azula nodded in acknowledgment, before she spoke, "Fortunately, at the moment of her departure, she was more Stannis, than my father. However, I was beginning to see the cracks. I saw the monster lurking underneath."
'I saw it too,' Mai thought in agreement.
Azula laughed bitterly, "Now I sound like my mother."
"What?" Mai asked in confusion, as their steps reverberated throughout the empty halls.
"It's nothing, forget I said that, "Azula replied. "As I was saying, Ursa needs room to grow. The type of growth to be found here will not be the type of growth I wish her to have. Too many of my own people would swim around her like sharks, feeding her lies, inflating her ego, making her feel above them all. They would seek to undermine me and use her to their advantage. Once I die, she needs to be ready, or her rule will collapse, and she would follow me to the grave."
"So you send her to one of the most inhospitable, and isolated regions in Westeros?" Mai questioned, before shrugging her shoulders, "That is quite some room to grow."
"Yes," Azula answered bluntly. "Sometime in the presence of noble, honorable, people like the Starks may do her some good. She must learn to temper her passions with focus. The seclusion will give her time to think, to reflect on herself, and hopefully make her less likely to become like my father."
'Self-reflection was never one of Azula's strong points,' Mai thought, before she added, "You want her to be like Zuko?"
Azula glared at her, before stating gravely, "If the Targaryens have proven anything, it's that mad, cruel rulers, do not last long. If by some fluke, they manage to not get killed, they make their successor waste their entire rule cleaning up their predecessor's messes. The Targaryens lasted a mere three-hundred years. In comparison, the Firenation and my ancestors, lasted nearly five-thousand, give or take a few centuries. After all that I have read of them; Maegor the Cruel, Aegon the Unworthy, Aerys the Mad, I have come to realize that my father would have fit right in with them,"Azula paused, staring forward, before speaking, "Ozai the Merciless they might have called him, had he been sent here instead of me. He would have trampled over everyone, and botched any attempts at negotiation. He would not have accepted speaking to anyone as an equal, and he would have made sure all knew so. My father would have expended the small advantage he would have held, with his benders, by waging war against the whole of Westeros. Make no mistake, he would have burned half of it down during his war, but he would have ultimately died a sad, lonely death as he was hunted down." She and Azula shared glances before Azula responded to her earlier question, "And Zuko, he would have been just as bad. He was always too indecisive, too honorable, and too weak. He would have stalled in negotiations, unsure of what to do. My uncle, foolish and old as he was, may have helped him, but it may not have mattered. He may have sided with the rebels, but he would have been far too kind to wage the type of war, this world called for."
'If I had come with him, perhaps he would have fared better?' Mai thought sadly. She knew Azula spoke true, but she could not bear to accept it.
She heard Azula exhale, and saw the azure flames lower in intensity, before speaking, "If you had come with him," Mai cast a surprised glance towards Azula. In the blue gloom, Mai was unsure, but she could have sworn that Azula's eyes glistened as she spoke. "You would have at least made his short life a bit better."
They walked in silence, before Azula shattered it, resuming her previous conversation on Ursa and the Starks. "The Starks provide useful, controllable allies, and if Ursa can manage to capture the Stark heir, then all the better. Especially considering the Starks themselves are one of the few houses to have lasted longer than the Firenation has existed."
"Capture? You mean wed?" Mai questioned, as they moved past an open metal door. The door led into a dimly lit room lined with candles. Inside, Mai caught a glimpse of several of Xai Bau's disciples engaged in meditation. All sat across from each other, upon the carpeted floor, with their legs crossed. The lone figure of the Red Priestess, Cyvia, stood off to the side, observing the event.
'I don't trust that woman,' came the disquieting thought, as Mai walked past.
"Capture? Wed? It's the same thing," Azula laughed, though Mai could tell the previous conversation had somewhat shaken her. They continued walking down the blue-hued corridor. "Mai? Did you know that Ursa is considered powerful for her age?"
"I've heard many in the academy say so, yes," she responded. 'Especially after Chang,' she thought.
"Did you know that she may even be more powerful than I was?"
Mai blinked in surprise.
"A mother should be proud, but truthfully, I don't know how I feel about that," Azula confessed, looking towards the smooth stone wall. "A part of me is proud of her," she continued, "another sees her as a threat, and the other fears for her." She began dragging her hand across it as they walked, deep in contemplation. "Had she been born a thousand, maybe two-thousand years from now, after the Firenation had secured itself. I may have allowed her to become more like my father. However, I have had much time to compare myself to him. A comparison, you will note, which mired the first ten years of my rule in endless debate. Though that is beside the point," she said, before continuing, as they neared a corner and turned left. "Cruelty and aggression have their places, and Ursa has some of it. She wants to become like me, and as such, she wishes to emulate the examples I have set forth. Unfortunately, I have come to recognize that I may have slipped up on this during my first few years, but somehow, luck managed to intervene, to make me seem less monstrous. You and I both know the monster is still there, coiled around my heart. It's similar to Ursa's, but whereas Ursa's is caged, wanting to be free, mine is tame, and it only emerges when I beckon."
"Of that, I have no doubt," Mai responded, as they continued down the corridor.
"You can thank Stannis for that, by the way. He is hopelessly loyal to me, but he stands his ground when he disagrees. It would be endearing if it wasn't so annoying," Azula stated. "Ursa needed to be dealt with swiftly, strongly, and harshly. I had to show her the monster, as it was the only thing she would understand. The only thing she would accept, for being essentially banished to the North."
"You could have simply told her, given her comfort as a mother should," Mai suggested.
"No, I could not have. She would have either seen it as weakness or a test. Neither of which I cared to lure Ursa into thinking. I have no doubt she may resent me, for a time, but hopefully the North calms her." Azula turned towards her, "That being said, I still wish her to retain some aggression, some cruelty, but not overwhelmingly so. I do not wish to see it atrophy completely."
"How will you do that?" she asked, as several doors opened and clanged shut far in the darkness.
Azula paused, "If everything proceeds as planned, then," she turned towards her, "a war will be coming. And if the lines remain drawn as they are, then I fully expect Ursa to march into it."
"War?" Mai questioned in reserved panic. "What are you planning?"
"Not here," Azula warned, "We will speak once we get to my office. Just know that I chose to send her to the north not only for the seclusion and possible marriage alliance. But because I have read many things about the houses and Lords of the North, and discovered that there is one amongst them that may prove to be a worthy advisor and ally."
"Who do you mean?" Mai asked before a loud inhuman scream reverberated throughout the blue-hued halls. Heavy footfalls were heard echoing in the distance, along with the distinct clanking of armor plate. Just under the noise caused by whatever large armored form stalked these passages, a faint sound of lighter hurried footsteps could be heard, along with ragged breathing.
"How do I get the fuck out of here?!??" Mai heard a man shout deep in the shadowy corridors, before the loud clanging grew louder, and caused the man to curse and flee deeper into the caverns.
"Not now!" Azula roared, "Take him back to the pens and leave him there until I get to my office!"
She heard the passages quiet before a metal door groaned open. Down in the dark, somewhere, the light voice of Qyburn echoed within the caverns, "Beg your pardon, Firelord! He will be apprehended immediately!"
The clanging resumed, and the lighter footfalls began to pace in a terrified panic. "Who was that? Where the fuck are you!?! Get me out! Please!!!"
Soon the clanging grew louder, and the lighter feet scuttled back and forth, before what sounded like an oar, sliced through the air, and silenced the man. A lifeless body could be heard collapsing onto the floor.
'I would be horrified if I wasn't used to it by now,' Mai thought. "Who was he?" she asked.
"Judging by his screams, I think his name was Vargyros 'the Babyeater.' A Myrish pirate I captured during the Stepstones campaign," Azula replied.
"Any truth to the title?" Mai asked curiosity getting the better of her.
"Perhaps. Do you want a lie or the truth?" Azula inquired.
"Nevermind," Mai responded.
"Fair enough," she said, as they turned a corner and entered a hallway of red torchlight, leading towards a heavy set of dual iron doors. Several hooded red robed figures, armored Flameguard, and Firenation troopers milled around speaking to one another and crossing into adjacent rooms. As the red flames, suddenly flared blue, all within stood at attention, kneeling, bowing, or presenting flame. She heard Azula sigh in exasperation, before she clasped her hands behind her back, and strode forwards. After passing the individuals gathered within the hall, they reached the large doors, emblazoned with the Firelord sigil of the five-pronged flame. Azula turned back, "At ease!" she commanded, and all present resumed their conversations, albeit quieter than they had been beforehand. Mai saw Azula get into her bending stance, causing her to step back. A few moments later, crackling blue energy began to form around Azula, before she pointed four fingers, the index and middle finger of each hand, towards the door, unleashing a powerful torrent of lightning, far stronger than Mai had remembered. Mai shielded her eyes, as the energy arced across the face of the large doors, before the Firelord sigil clicked and caused the large doors to groan open.
As they entered the pitch black study, ten hooded figures were partially illuminated by the lighting, in the hall, outside. The figures were clad in torn cloaks, frayed at their bases, with dark dressings stitched in swirling patterns, covering their legs. All had their swords drawn, and were silent as the grave, save for the slight sound of rattling chains. Azula stuck her left hand forward, and a calming blue light erupted from the formerly cold and until torches lining the walls, and central pathway. As her eyes adjusted to the light, the forms of the figures became clear. Their faces were hidden behind seemingly porcelain masks, divided in design. The right part of the masks were dark gray, with a silvery curved design, traced in deep black lines, towards the top right of it. The left side of the masks were white as snow, with a large portion of the left side of it, tracing a dark gray, smoky design. 'The Kemurikage,' Mai silently muttered to herself, as they sheathed their weapons under their cloaks. 'Legends from the Firenation, which Azula had brought to life,' she thought. These ten women had all been former red priestesses who had wholly devoted themselves to Azula. They had all followed the example of Talana, Acolyte of the Red Temple of Volantis, wife of Xai Bau, and mother of Jun, who shortly after the Greyjoy Rebellion had taken ill with a fever. She had been near death when she had reportedly convinced her husband of wishing to continue serving the Lord's chosen. Her mind had still been hers when Xai Bau had finally given her over to Qyburn. When Qyburn had finished, he had claimed her to be his best work. She, and 'the Kemurikage' who followed her carried themselves with a keen intelligence not shown thereafter with 'the Repurposed.' The ruby-powered glamours that allowed for disguising an individual were later found to work on them, masking their deathly pale skin, and milky white eyes. Xai Bau and Cyvia believed that their faith in R'hllor had allowed for this and that it kept their minds from dissolving completely. Azula did not believe so, but she had once spoken to her on how Xai Bau had hidden the truth of his wife's fate from their daughter, Jun.
As the door shut behind them, Mai marveled at the room. The Kemurikage remained motionless, their gaze fixed on her, as she followed Azula along the central, carpeted pathway. To either side of them, were richly carved wooden desks, and against the walls were towering bookshelves, spaced out evenly between the torches lining the partitions. This study had once been the main meeting place for all within the caverns before the expansion. The expansion had seen the addition of sleeping quarters, the meditation hall, cells, and the central hall where food was served and discussions held. Her study, which had also been expanded to house more than forty or so people, was now, curiously, only reserved for her closest allies, of which Mai counted herself among. The only way in or out, which Mai knew of, was through the large main doors, which required lightning bending to open. However, she was sure Azula had a secret way of exiting the room should bending not be an option. As she looked up, she noticed that the formerly jagged ceiling of volcanic rock and glass had been covered over with flat stone, and was held up by ornately designed stone pillars, carved with Firenation designs. Between the pillars hung pristine, and vividly colored Firenation banners of the three-pronged, teardrop flame. 'Those are new,' Mai thought, as she looked ahead to where Azula's office was, and saw the large painted portrait of Azula, above the doorway, staring down at them. As she turned her head back towards the direction they came, she saw the massive banner of the Baratheons of Dragonstone, 'the Burning Stag,' hanging above the entrance.
"Do you know the meaning of the word opulence?" Mai asked, in jest, though her face wouldn't show it.
Azula stopped walking, and turned towards her with a smirk. "What can I say? I am still royalty, no matter what those fools at King's Landing say."
They continued walking, getting closer towards Azula's office, before a table to her right, and a large, cloth-covered, chair to her left, caught her attention. The table held several jars of partially burnt organs, and weighted down parchments detailing human physiology, on it. Azula seemed to have noticed the distraction, and preempted the imminent question. "I've had Qyburn and Sanro study the remains of the pirates Steffon was found with."
"What did they find?" she asked, as they stopped near the table.
"Nothing definitive, only that the internal organs, of one of them, held burns at certain points," Azula replied.
"Burns?" she questioned.
"Yes, and from what they tell me, suffering those injuries is enough to drive someone mad with excruciating pain," Azula stated.
"Can Steffon bend?" had come the immediate and reflexive question. Ideas started flooding Mai's mind, of what that meant for Ursa and the budding Firenation. 'If it proved true, she may decide to challenge it,' Mai thought, 'as she would likely not accept all of her preparation, at Azula's hand, having been for nothing. If Steffon simply came in and took the crown of Firelord away from her, well...' As much as Mai disliked choosing between Azula's children, she trusted Steffon more in the position of Firelord, than Ursa.
"I am unsure," Azula responded, "the bodies held no outward traces of burns, only cuts, stabs, and bruises. I had only asked for a few specimens to be sure, and only one of the ten I brought back with me, showed these internal burns. Normally I would have dismissed this ratio as nothing more than a coincidence, had it not been for the fact that the burns reeked of wildfire."
"Wildfire?" she asked, her monotone voice hiding her shock.
"That is what I said, and it only serves to bring in more questions than answers," Azula spoke, seemingly shaken by the revelation. "Enough of this," Azula declared, "Steffon is not why I brought you here."
Mai dropped the subject as they both turned to resume their walk to Azula's office. Both of them looked forward and laid eyes on the large, cloth-covered, chair. Before Mai could recover from the previous conversation, to ask of the chair, Azula spoke, "It is a pet project of mine, leave it be."
She looked towards it, hearing Azula's dismissal of it, and she came to a realization, that had taken her far too long to realize as Azula's closest friend, 'It's a throne.'
As they neared the smaller, steel door, emblazoned with the Firelord sigil with a hole at its center, Azula entered into her bending stance, and Mai backed away. As before, blue energy hissed and crackled around Azula before she unleashed it into the small opening at the center of the door. Several clicks were heard as the energy dissipated, and the door opened, revealing the lone, hooded, figure of Talana, the first Kemurikage. In her hands, drawn against them, was 'Scarred Brother,' Azula's Valyrian steel sword. Talana's cloak, unlike the rest of the Kemurikage, was untouched, with no tears. It was a perfect flowing cloak, dark as night, with a slight sheen rippling through it, like waves in the pale moonlight. Her mask, unlike the others, bore the Firelord's sigil, which wrapped around both sides of it. The surrounding space, between the golden prongs of the flame, was deep black. The shadow cast by the hood, and the dark hue of the mask, hid the openings for her eyes. Azula raised her hands, and as she had done at the main entrance to the study, she caused the room to flare into life. The torch stands, surrounding Azula's sumptuously designed desk, bathed the room in a brilliant blue light. Talana knelt, and presented 'Scarred Brother,' to Azula. She lifted it up by the handle, placing it upon the wall, where a rack, and its sister sword, 'Nameless,' awaited it. Azula's husband, Lord Stannis, had refrained from naming the sword Azula had gifted him, and as a result, Azula had taken to calling it 'Nameless.' Stannis had not been pleased, but he had suffered it all the same. He had not trusted King's Landing enough to take the sword with him, and had instead entrusted it to Azula for safekeeping. As soon as the weapon was secured, Azula moved to sit in her chair, while Mai moved to sit on her own. Talana stood, and affixed herself to Azula's side. Her dark cloak completely concealed her form, and the ethereal blue lighting made her seem spirit-like.
As she and Azula sat down, Azula drew a roll of parchment from the side of her desk, and held it up towards her. "Here, take this," she said.
Mai reached for it, "What is it?" she asked, looking towards Azula, and waiting for acknowledgment that she was allowed to open it. Azula nodded, and Mai unfurled the crisp piece of parchment. As Mai read its contents, she could not understand what it meant.
"It names you as my word and will, for the Firenation of Dragonstone," she stated, "You will have my authority when dealing with my citizens. You will retain your position as overseer, but your role, and the expectations I have of you will be expanded."
Mai looked at her, and back down towards the scroll of parchment.
"You are free to decline, of course," Azula said, voice stuttering slightly at the statement, "but I can think of no others I would rather have as my representative here on Dragonstone."
"I will not decline," she said, and noticed Azula exhale slightly in relief, "But why? Where are you going?"
"To King's Landing," Azula replied, speaking with greater confidence than she had been only moments ago. "There are some...personal matters I must attend to."
She placed the parchment on the desk, "What would you have me do?"
"Simple matters, I assure you," Azula said.
'Nothing is ever simple with you,' Mai thought.
"Just oversee the completion of 'the Azula,' keep the Academy running smoothly, the usual things you have normally been doing," Azula continued.
"If it is the 'usual things' I have been doing then why even bother with something so formal?" she asked.
"Because, while I am away, you may have to deal with traitors, and you know how I like my traitors dealt with?" Azula replied, her chair creaking slight as she shifted her weight back, to recline, and crossed her arms.
'Overseeing executions and torture?' Mai thought, and despite her earlier statement of not declining, she began to reconsider.
As if sensing her doubt, Azula clarified, "Chang. Watch him, and his son."
"Chang?" she asked, the surprise evident in her eyes.
"The old man, no doubt, still harbors a grudge against me for declining his hand in favor of Stannis," Azula stated, "and declining offers of his son to wed Ursa."
"If you suspected treachery, why have you waited so long to respond?" she asked, genuinely surprised at that fact.
Azula gave her a look before her body reared forward with arms uncrossed. She lay her arms to rest on the surface of the ornate desk, and declared, "Yes, as if I was not preoccupied with two wars, assassination attempts, unruly bannermen who I had to bring to heel, and the constant probing of Dragonstone by enemy spies?"
She crossed her arms, mirroring Azula's earlier position, and replied with a look of her own.
"Look, the man is useful as an instructor, and he is not stupid. He would never openly move against me, nor against the interests of the Firenation. However, the plans I will be pursuing in King's Landing may leave my position vulnerable to usurpation," Azula stated gravely.
She relaxed her arms, and saw the look in Azula's eyes. "What do you think may happen to you?"
"There is a chance, however small, that I may perish during my efforts in King's Landing," Azula uttered. "If I do, then you must secure Ty Lee, and prevent the old fool, or his whelp, from getting their hands on her."
"Azula, I…" she began before Azula cut her off.
"Let me finish," Azula ordered, "You will not be alone in this. As great a following as Takkar has formed in the Academy, the majority of them are only doing so under Steffon's orders."
'Keep your friends close, and your enemies, even closer,' Mai thought.
"You will also find an ally in Cyvia, who somehow discovered Chang's dormant ambition, and warned me, without me having uttered a word."
'Oh great,' Mai thought to herself, the words Cyvia had spoken to her, three years ago, still echoing in her mind.
******
(Dragonstone: 6/2/294 AC) Mai I
"Everyone is what they are, and where they are, for a reason. Terrible things, happen for a reason. Take what happened to you, Lady Mai, when you were a child. You were an only child for thirteen years. You had whatever you wanted, as long as you behaved," Cyvia stated, as she and Mai stood alone, outside Azula's audience chamber. Cyvia was looking her square in the eyes, as she spoke, after Mai had made her feelings of mistrust, towards Cyvia, known. "Your childhood made you distant, and your anger at your life made you develop great skills. These skills drew her, the Lord's chosen, to you," Cyvia's eyes entranced her own, and she did not flinch as Cyvia reached out with her left hand, to hold Mai's hand in her own. "What was it your friend said to you?" Cyvia's free hand caressed Mai's cheek, "Promise me you will take care of her. You are all she has left of her old life and she can't do it without you?" She stared at Cyvia, the shock welling up in her eyes and chest. Cyvia cast an unnervingly serene smile at her before uttering, "We serve the same Firelord. If you are her true friend, you have nothing to fear from me." Cyvia lowered her hands, and walked away with nary a sound.
A fruity, floral, aroma greeted her nostrils, as she exited the lift. The dark, though well kept, underground hall, was inundated with the sweet-smelling fragrance.
'Likely because the last time I was here it smelled like rotting offal,' Mai thought to herself. 'I suppose the old man is finally cleaning up after himself?'
Azula, Mai's childhood friend, and current sitting Fire Lord, had summoned her down into this specially made hell.
'Only she could have designed, and constructed, something like…this…,' Mai frowned in thought, though not necessarily in disagreement. After Ty Lee, Mai cared nothing for the enemies of Azula, 'Let them challenge her, let them fall to her, let them fear her…' she had often found herself thinking terribly. The lift rail, behind her, clanged shut, while the dull red torches lining the walls of the hall flared blue. 'She's here,' Mai found herself relaxing at the thought. Her mental utterance rang true, and the iron door, with the Firenation crest, unlocked and opened ahead.
Mai found herself straightening up, and keeping the title 'Firelord' waiting on her lips, as Azula slipped into view. She had been ready to slap her left-hand fist into her open right palm before Azula waved her off.
"No need for that, Mai, not from you," she stated, causing Mai to raise an eyebrow in surprise. Azula had caught her reflexive gesture, and snorted, "Surprised? I would be too, but sometimes everyone bowing, all the time, gets boring." Azula held the door open for her, as she continued speaking. "Even as that statement leaves my lips, I still cannot comprehend that I've said it," Azula laughed her cheerless laugh before she turned to her. "But seriously, it feels…hollow. I will gain more satisfaction from it when I control something more than just these dreary rocks!"
"It's not so bad," Mai thought aloud, causing Azula to blink. "I will admit," she uttered flatly, as she passed through the threshold, "this place has grown on me." Azula followed her in and began shutting the iron door behind them. A slow metallic groan echoed throughout the underground complex, and the nearby torches erupted into wavy pillars of blue flame. The loud 'clank' of a locking door followed shortly thereafter.
As they walked, side by side, Azula spoke, "Perhaps, but some do not share your opinion, while others cannot share your opinion."
"Ursa?" she asked, as they passed near a blue-hued torch.
Azula sighed in exasperation. "Ursa still needs time. She needs to be away from here, the competition, and the games. If she remains here, she will turn out like him," Azula looked towards her, and stated bluntly, "You know who I mean."
Mai nodded her response. 'Ozai,' she thought.
Azula nodded in acknowledgment, before she spoke, "Fortunately, at the moment of her departure, she was more Stannis, than my father. However, I was beginning to see the cracks. I saw the monster lurking underneath."
'I saw it too,' Mai thought in agreement.
Azula laughed bitterly, "Now I sound like my mother."
"What?" Mai asked in confusion, as their steps reverberated throughout the empty halls.
"It's nothing, forget I said that, "Azula replied. "As I was saying, Ursa needs room to grow. The type of growth to be found here will not be the type of growth I wish her to have. Too many of my own people would swim around her like sharks, feeding her lies, inflating her ego, making her feel above them all. They would seek to undermine me and use her to their advantage. Once I die, she needs to be ready, or her rule will collapse, and she would follow me to the grave."
"So you send her to one of the most inhospitable, and isolated regions in Westeros?" Mai questioned, before shrugging her shoulders, "That is quite some room to grow."
"Yes," Azula answered bluntly. "Sometime in the presence of noble, honorable, people like the Starks may do her some good. She must learn to temper her passions with focus. The seclusion will give her time to think, to reflect on herself, and hopefully make her less likely to become like my father."
'Self-reflection was never one of Azula's strong points,' Mai thought, before she added, "You want her to be like Zuko?"
Azula glared at her, before stating gravely, "If the Targaryens have proven anything, it's that mad, cruel rulers, do not last long. If by some fluke, they manage to not get killed, they make their successor waste their entire rule cleaning up their predecessor's messes. The Targaryens lasted a mere three-hundred years. In comparison, the Firenation and my ancestors, lasted nearly five-thousand, give or take a few centuries. After all that I have read of them; Maegor the Cruel, Aegon the Unworthy, Aerys the Mad, I have come to realize that my father would have fit right in with them,"Azula paused, staring forward, before speaking, "Ozai the Merciless they might have called him, had he been sent here instead of me. He would have trampled over everyone, and botched any attempts at negotiation. He would not have accepted speaking to anyone as an equal, and he would have made sure all knew so. My father would have expended the small advantage he would have held, with his benders, by waging war against the whole of Westeros. Make no mistake, he would have burned half of it down during his war, but he would have ultimately died a sad, lonely death as he was hunted down." She and Azula shared glances before Azula responded to her earlier question, "And Zuko, he would have been just as bad. He was always too indecisive, too honorable, and too weak. He would have stalled in negotiations, unsure of what to do. My uncle, foolish and old as he was, may have helped him, but it may not have mattered. He may have sided with the rebels, but he would have been far too kind to wage the type of war, this world called for."
'If I had come with him, perhaps he would have fared better?' Mai thought sadly. She knew Azula spoke true, but she could not bear to accept it.
She heard Azula exhale, and saw the azure flames lower in intensity, before speaking, "If you had come with him," Mai cast a surprised glance towards Azula. In the blue gloom, Mai was unsure, but she could have sworn that Azula's eyes glistened as she spoke. "You would have at least made his short life a bit better."
They walked in silence, before Azula shattered it, resuming her previous conversation on Ursa and the Starks. "The Starks provide useful, controllable allies, and if Ursa can manage to capture the Stark heir, then all the better. Especially considering the Starks themselves are one of the few houses to have lasted longer than the Firenation has existed."
"Capture? You mean wed?" Mai questioned, as they moved past an open metal door. The door led into a dimly lit room lined with candles. Inside, Mai caught a glimpse of several of Xai Bau's disciples engaged in meditation. All sat across from each other, upon the carpeted floor, with their legs crossed. The lone figure of the Red Priestess, Cyvia, stood off to the side, observing the event.
'I don't trust that woman,' came the disquieting thought, as Mai walked past.
"Capture? Wed? It's the same thing," Azula laughed, though Mai could tell the previous conversation had somewhat shaken her. They continued walking down the blue-hued corridor. "Mai? Did you know that Ursa is considered powerful for her age?"
"I've heard many in the academy say so, yes," she responded. 'Especially after Chang,' she thought.
"Did you know that she may even be more powerful than I was?"
Mai blinked in surprise.
"A mother should be proud, but truthfully, I don't know how I feel about that," Azula confessed, looking towards the smooth stone wall. "A part of me is proud of her," she continued, "another sees her as a threat, and the other fears for her." She began dragging her hand across it as they walked, deep in contemplation. "Had she been born a thousand, maybe two-thousand years from now, after the Firenation had secured itself. I may have allowed her to become more like my father. However, I have had much time to compare myself to him. A comparison, you will note, which mired the first ten years of my rule in endless debate. Though that is beside the point," she said, before continuing, as they neared a corner and turned left. "Cruelty and aggression have their places, and Ursa has some of it. She wants to become like me, and as such, she wishes to emulate the examples I have set forth. Unfortunately, I have come to recognize that I may have slipped up on this during my first few years, but somehow, luck managed to intervene, to make me seem less monstrous. You and I both know the monster is still there, coiled around my heart. It's similar to Ursa's, but whereas Ursa's is caged, wanting to be free, mine is tame, and it only emerges when I beckon."
"Of that, I have no doubt," Mai responded, as they continued down the corridor.
"You can thank Stannis for that, by the way. He is hopelessly loyal to me, but he stands his ground when he disagrees. It would be endearing if it wasn't so annoying," Azula stated. "Ursa needed to be dealt with swiftly, strongly, and harshly. I had to show her the monster, as it was the only thing she would understand. The only thing she would accept, for being essentially banished to the North."
"You could have simply told her, given her comfort as a mother should," Mai suggested.
"No, I could not have. She would have either seen it as weakness or a test. Neither of which I cared to lure Ursa into thinking. I have no doubt she may resent me, for a time, but hopefully the North calms her." Azula turned towards her, "That being said, I still wish her to retain some aggression, some cruelty, but not overwhelmingly so. I do not wish to see it atrophy completely."
"How will you do that?" she asked, as several doors opened and clanged shut far in the darkness.
Azula paused, "If everything proceeds as planned, then," she turned towards her, "a war will be coming. And if the lines remain drawn as they are, then I fully expect Ursa to march into it."
"War?" Mai questioned in reserved panic. "What are you planning?"
"Not here," Azula warned, "We will speak once we get to my office. Just know that I chose to send her to the north not only for the seclusion and possible marriage alliance. But because I have read many things about the houses and Lords of the North, and discovered that there is one amongst them that may prove to be a worthy advisor and ally."
"Who do you mean?" Mai asked before a loud inhuman scream reverberated throughout the blue-hued halls. Heavy footfalls were heard echoing in the distance, along with the distinct clanking of armor plate. Just under the noise caused by whatever large armored form stalked these passages, a faint sound of lighter hurried footsteps could be heard, along with ragged breathing.
"How do I get the fuck out of here?!??" Mai heard a man shout deep in the shadowy corridors, before the loud clanging grew louder, and caused the man to curse and flee deeper into the caverns.
"Not now!" Azula roared, "Take him back to the pens and leave him there until I get to my office!"
She heard the passages quiet before a metal door groaned open. Down in the dark, somewhere, the light voice of Qyburn echoed within the caverns, "Beg your pardon, Firelord! He will be apprehended immediately!"
The clanging resumed, and the lighter footfalls began to pace in a terrified panic. "Who was that? Where the fuck are you!?! Get me out! Please!!!"
Soon the clanging grew louder, and the lighter feet scuttled back and forth, before what sounded like an oar, sliced through the air, and silenced the man. A lifeless body could be heard collapsing onto the floor.
'I would be horrified if I wasn't used to it by now,' Mai thought. "Who was he?" she asked.
"Judging by his screams, I think his name was Vargyros 'the Babyeater.' A Myrish pirate I captured during the Stepstones campaign," Azula replied.
"Any truth to the title?" Mai asked curiosity getting the better of her.
"Perhaps. Do you want a lie or the truth?" Azula inquired.
"Nevermind," Mai responded.
"Fair enough," she said, as they turned a corner and entered a hallway of red torchlight, leading towards a heavy set of dual iron doors. Several hooded red robed figures, armored Flameguard, and Firenation troopers milled around speaking to one another and crossing into adjacent rooms. As the red flames, suddenly flared blue, all within stood at attention, kneeling, bowing, or presenting flame. She heard Azula sigh in exasperation, before she clasped her hands behind her back, and strode forwards. After passing the individuals gathered within the hall, they reached the large doors, emblazoned with the Firelord sigil of the five-pronged flame. Azula turned back, "At ease!" she commanded, and all present resumed their conversations, albeit quieter than they had been beforehand. Mai saw Azula get into her bending stance, causing her to step back. A few moments later, crackling blue energy began to form around Azula, before she pointed four fingers, the index and middle finger of each hand, towards the door, unleashing a powerful torrent of lightning, far stronger than Mai had remembered. Mai shielded her eyes, as the energy arced across the face of the large doors, before the Firelord sigil clicked and caused the large doors to groan open.
As they entered the pitch black study, ten hooded figures were partially illuminated by the lighting, in the hall, outside. The figures were clad in torn cloaks, frayed at their bases, with dark dressings stitched in swirling patterns, covering their legs. All had their swords drawn, and were silent as the grave, save for the slight sound of rattling chains. Azula stuck her left hand forward, and a calming blue light erupted from the formerly cold and until torches lining the walls, and central pathway. As her eyes adjusted to the light, the forms of the figures became clear. Their faces were hidden behind seemingly porcelain masks, divided in design. The right part of the masks were dark gray, with a silvery curved design, traced in deep black lines, towards the top right of it. The left side of the masks were white as snow, with a large portion of the left side of it, tracing a dark gray, smoky design. 'The Kemurikage,' Mai silently muttered to herself, as they sheathed their weapons under their cloaks. 'Legends from the Firenation, which Azula had brought to life,' she thought. These ten women had all been former red priestesses who had wholly devoted themselves to Azula. They had all followed the example of Talana, Acolyte of the Red Temple of Volantis, wife of Xai Bau, and mother of Jun, who shortly after the Greyjoy Rebellion had taken ill with a fever. She had been near death when she had reportedly convinced her husband of wishing to continue serving the Lord's chosen. Her mind had still been hers when Xai Bau had finally given her over to Qyburn. When Qyburn had finished, he had claimed her to be his best work. She, and 'the Kemurikage' who followed her carried themselves with a keen intelligence not shown thereafter with 'the Repurposed.' The ruby-powered glamours that allowed for disguising an individual were later found to work on them, masking their deathly pale skin, and milky white eyes. Xai Bau and Cyvia believed that their faith in R'hllor had allowed for this and that it kept their minds from dissolving completely. Azula did not believe so, but she had once spoken to her on how Xai Bau had hidden the truth of his wife's fate from their daughter, Jun.
As the door shut behind them, Mai marveled at the room. The Kemurikage remained motionless, their gaze fixed on her, as she followed Azula along the central, carpeted pathway. To either side of them, were richly carved wooden desks, and against the walls were towering bookshelves, spaced out evenly between the torches lining the partitions. This study had once been the main meeting place for all within the caverns before the expansion. The expansion had seen the addition of sleeping quarters, the meditation hall, cells, and the central hall where food was served and discussions held. Her study, which had also been expanded to house more than forty or so people, was now, curiously, only reserved for her closest allies, of which Mai counted herself among. The only way in or out, which Mai knew of, was through the large main doors, which required lightning bending to open. However, she was sure Azula had a secret way of exiting the room should bending not be an option. As she looked up, she noticed that the formerly jagged ceiling of volcanic rock and glass had been covered over with flat stone, and was held up by ornately designed stone pillars, carved with Firenation designs. Between the pillars hung pristine, and vividly colored Firenation banners of the three-pronged, teardrop flame. 'Those are new,' Mai thought, as she looked ahead to where Azula's office was, and saw the large painted portrait of Azula, above the doorway, staring down at them. As she turned her head back towards the direction they came, she saw the massive banner of the Baratheons of Dragonstone, 'the Burning Stag,' hanging above the entrance.
"Do you know the meaning of the word opulence?" Mai asked, in jest, though her face wouldn't show it.
Azula stopped walking, and turned towards her with a smirk. "What can I say? I am still royalty, no matter what those fools at King's Landing say."
They continued walking, getting closer towards Azula's office, before a table to her right, and a large, cloth-covered, chair to her left, caught her attention. The table held several jars of partially burnt organs, and weighted down parchments detailing human physiology, on it. Azula seemed to have noticed the distraction, and preempted the imminent question. "I've had Qyburn and Sanro study the remains of the pirates Steffon was found with."
"What did they find?" she asked, as they stopped near the table.
"Nothing definitive, only that the internal organs, of one of them, held burns at certain points," Azula replied.
"Burns?" she questioned.
"Yes, and from what they tell me, suffering those injuries is enough to drive someone mad with excruciating pain," Azula stated.
"Can Steffon bend?" had come the immediate and reflexive question. Ideas started flooding Mai's mind, of what that meant for Ursa and the budding Firenation. 'If it proved true, she may decide to challenge it,' Mai thought, 'as she would likely not accept all of her preparation, at Azula's hand, having been for nothing. If Steffon simply came in and took the crown of Firelord away from her, well...' As much as Mai disliked choosing between Azula's children, she trusted Steffon more in the position of Firelord, than Ursa.
"I am unsure," Azula responded, "the bodies held no outward traces of burns, only cuts, stabs, and bruises. I had only asked for a few specimens to be sure, and only one of the ten I brought back with me, showed these internal burns. Normally I would have dismissed this ratio as nothing more than a coincidence, had it not been for the fact that the burns reeked of wildfire."
"Wildfire?" she asked, her monotone voice hiding her shock.
"That is what I said, and it only serves to bring in more questions than answers," Azula spoke, seemingly shaken by the revelation. "Enough of this," Azula declared, "Steffon is not why I brought you here."
Mai dropped the subject as they both turned to resume their walk to Azula's office. Both of them looked forward and laid eyes on the large, cloth-covered, chair. Before Mai could recover from the previous conversation, to ask of the chair, Azula spoke, "It is a pet project of mine, leave it be."
She looked towards it, hearing Azula's dismissal of it, and she came to a realization, that had taken her far too long to realize as Azula's closest friend, 'It's a throne.'
As they neared the smaller, steel door, emblazoned with the Firelord sigil with a hole at its center, Azula entered into her bending stance, and Mai backed away. As before, blue energy hissed and crackled around Azula before she unleashed it into the small opening at the center of the door. Several clicks were heard as the energy dissipated, and the door opened, revealing the lone, hooded, figure of Talana, the first Kemurikage. In her hands, drawn against them, was 'Scarred Brother,' Azula's Valyrian steel sword. Talana's cloak, unlike the rest of the Kemurikage, was untouched, with no tears. It was a perfect flowing cloak, dark as night, with a slight sheen rippling through it, like waves in the pale moonlight. Her mask, unlike the others, bore the Firelord's sigil, which wrapped around both sides of it. The surrounding space, between the golden prongs of the flame, was deep black. The shadow cast by the hood, and the dark hue of the mask, hid the openings for her eyes. Azula raised her hands, and as she had done at the main entrance to the study, she caused the room to flare into life. The torch stands, surrounding Azula's sumptuously designed desk, bathed the room in a brilliant blue light. Talana knelt, and presented 'Scarred Brother,' to Azula. She lifted it up by the handle, placing it upon the wall, where a rack, and its sister sword, 'Nameless,' awaited it. Azula's husband, Lord Stannis, had refrained from naming the sword Azula had gifted him, and as a result, Azula had taken to calling it 'Nameless.' Stannis had not been pleased, but he had suffered it all the same. He had not trusted King's Landing enough to take the sword with him, and had instead entrusted it to Azula for safekeeping. As soon as the weapon was secured, Azula moved to sit in her chair, while Mai moved to sit on her own. Talana stood, and affixed herself to Azula's side. Her dark cloak completely concealed her form, and the ethereal blue lighting made her seem spirit-like.
As she and Azula sat down, Azula drew a roll of parchment from the side of her desk, and held it up towards her. "Here, take this," she said.
Mai reached for it, "What is it?" she asked, looking towards Azula, and waiting for acknowledgment that she was allowed to open it. Azula nodded, and Mai unfurled the crisp piece of parchment. As Mai read its contents, she could not understand what it meant.
"It names you as my word and will, for the Firenation of Dragonstone," she stated, "You will have my authority when dealing with my citizens. You will retain your position as overseer, but your role, and the expectations I have of you will be expanded."
Mai looked at her, and back down towards the scroll of parchment.
"You are free to decline, of course," Azula said, voice stuttering slightly at the statement, "but I can think of no others I would rather have as my representative here on Dragonstone."
"I will not decline," she said, and noticed Azula exhale slightly in relief, "But why? Where are you going?"
"To King's Landing," Azula replied, speaking with greater confidence than she had been only moments ago. "There are some...personal matters I must attend to."
She placed the parchment on the desk, "What would you have me do?"
"Simple matters, I assure you," Azula said.
'Nothing is ever simple with you,' Mai thought.
"Just oversee the completion of 'the Azula,' keep the Academy running smoothly, the usual things you have normally been doing," Azula continued.
"If it is the 'usual things' I have been doing then why even bother with something so formal?" she asked.
"Because, while I am away, you may have to deal with traitors, and you know how I like my traitors dealt with?" Azula replied, her chair creaking slight as she shifted her weight back, to recline, and crossed her arms.
'Overseeing executions and torture?' Mai thought, and despite her earlier statement of not declining, she began to reconsider.
As if sensing her doubt, Azula clarified, "Chang. Watch him, and his son."
"Chang?" she asked, the surprise evident in her eyes.
"The old man, no doubt, still harbors a grudge against me for declining his hand in favor of Stannis," Azula stated, "and declining offers of his son to wed Ursa."
"If you suspected treachery, why have you waited so long to respond?" she asked, genuinely surprised at that fact.
Azula gave her a look before her body reared forward with arms uncrossed. She lay her arms to rest on the surface of the ornate desk, and declared, "Yes, as if I was not preoccupied with two wars, assassination attempts, unruly bannermen who I had to bring to heel, and the constant probing of Dragonstone by enemy spies?"
She crossed her arms, mirroring Azula's earlier position, and replied with a look of her own.
"Look, the man is useful as an instructor, and he is not stupid. He would never openly move against me, nor against the interests of the Firenation. However, the plans I will be pursuing in King's Landing may leave my position vulnerable to usurpation," Azula stated gravely.
She relaxed her arms, and saw the look in Azula's eyes. "What do you think may happen to you?"
"There is a chance, however small, that I may perish during my efforts in King's Landing," Azula uttered. "If I do, then you must secure Ty Lee, and prevent the old fool, or his whelp, from getting their hands on her."
"Azula, I…" she began before Azula cut her off.
"Let me finish," Azula ordered, "You will not be alone in this. As great a following as Takkar has formed in the Academy, the majority of them are only doing so under Steffon's orders."
'Keep your friends close, and your enemies, even closer,' Mai thought.
"You will also find an ally in Cyvia, who somehow discovered Chang's dormant ambition, and warned me, without me having uttered a word."
'Oh great,' Mai thought to herself, the words Cyvia had spoken to her, three years ago, still echoing in her mind.
******
(Dragonstone: 6/2/294 AC) Mai I
"Everyone is what they are, and where they are, for a reason. Terrible things, happen for a reason. Take what happened to you, Lady Mai, when you were a child. You were an only child for thirteen years. You had whatever you wanted, as long as you behaved," Cyvia stated, as she and Mai stood alone, outside Azula's audience chamber. Cyvia was looking her square in the eyes, as she spoke, after Mai had made her feelings of mistrust, towards Cyvia, known. "Your childhood made you distant, and your anger at your life made you develop great skills. These skills drew her, the Lord's chosen, to you," Cyvia's eyes entranced her own, and she did not flinch as Cyvia reached out with her left hand, to hold Mai's hand in her own. "What was it your friend said to you?" Cyvia's free hand caressed Mai's cheek, "Promise me you will take care of her. You are all she has left of her old life and she can't do it without you?" She stared at Cyvia, the shock welling up in her eyes and chest. Cyvia cast an unnervingly serene smile at her before uttering, "We serve the same Firelord. If you are her true friend, you have nothing to fear from me." Cyvia lowered her hands, and walked away with nary a sound.
(King’s Landing: Grove of the Burning Tree: 12/30/297 AC) Xai Bau I
- Location
- U.S.
(King's Landing: Grove of the Burning Tree: 12/30/297 AC) Xai Bau I
'This place is growing,' Xai Bau thought, as he surveyed his meager surroundings. 'Where once there had been a single glowing flame atop a withering bush, surrounded by darkness,' he observed in satisfaction, 'had become an inferno, forever burning, atop an ever-growing tree.' A white dragon bush had grown and, surprisingly, three spirits had come to populate this small island of light. Where the spirits had come from, he held no clue. However, he thought, 'they were welcome companions compared to what hid in the darkness. Two old snakes and a buttermoth.' The twin snakes rested alongside the burning tree, hissing at each other, in a discussion only they could discern. Sometimes the snakes would turn, while deep in gossip, and ask him to "go away." They would then casually return to hissing at each other. The first time they had spoken to him had surprised the man. So much so, that the former captain of 'the Ozai' thought himself going mad. As the snakes argued, a small pink buttermoth fluttered around the white dragon bush. 'I'm sure Iroh would have appreciated that bush,' came his thought as he glanced at the red and white flowers of the small piece of shrubbery. The light, from the burning tree, illuminated a small area around it, large enough to fit a group of twenty people, but no more. 'How fitting,' he snorted. From the entire crew of the Ozai, only Lee had been willing to learn the act of meditation, from him. Commander Lee sought peace from the life he left behind and a meaning to the new life that had been forced upon him. 'A noble cause,' thought Xai Bau. 'The memories of the family that he had been torn away from, would always haunt him.'
Xai Bau did hold faith in the newer generation of Firenation citizens and mixed bloods. Westrosi lacked the ability to enter the spirit world, and he held that it was either because whatever spirituality they held was long dead, or that they were simply not from his world. The mixed bloods were a different story, however, and they did not have the sterile upbringing of the original crew. Mixed bloods, and the trueborn children of Firenation parentage were allowed a small modicum of freedom in expression and exploration of their spirit. Even so, the dedication and focus necessary was beyond many of them, save eleven possibly twelve of them. Of the twelve, three had been of keen interest to him; Steffon, Ty Lee, and his own daughter Jun.
When the crew of the Ozai had first arrived, Xai Bau had been caught up in Azula's ascension to Firelord. He was sure the Firelord remembered, what he had done, but it hardly mattered to her now. It had been a simple 'mistake' to 'accidentally' reveal what the true status of the Exiled Prince and the Dragon of the West was to be aboard the barge, fifteen years ago. The man had known Iroh for being a leading member of the White Lotus. Whether or not Iroh had identified him, as a fellow White Lotus member, was open to debate. Needless to say, it had taken Xai Bau no small amount of courage to speak the word 'prisoners' when welcoming Prince Zuko and Iroh aboard. The spirits had been watching out for him that day, as the Prince had pushed him overboard. The Princess had been so incensed at her defeat against the Old General, that when the man from the order of the White Lotus finally came back aboard, she had simply demoted him to a janitor. A dark chuckle escaped his lips.
Firelord Azula had planned and schemed to get into the good graces of the sovereign of this foreign land, King Robert Baratheon, and to gain position. The original purpose of the crew had been to not only keep Firelord Ozai's daughter safe but to keep an eye on her and deal with her if necessary. Ozai had been no fool, and he knew how dangerous his own daughter was. That was why only the most skilled of Firebenders and soldiers had been present onboard, along with the standard crewmen needed for ship maintenance. If Ozai had given the command, 'to subdue and detain, or eliminate,' the crew had been prepared to follow it. Truthfully, Xai Bau had been aboard, not only for his skill but to observe the Princess and make sure no harm came to the Avatar if he should be discovered in their travels. 'But now?' he thought to himself, 'Ozai was gone, the Avatar was gone, and only Azula remained.' A single fool from the original crew, Takumi, had seen this as an opportunity to become Firelord. He had issued a challenge for leadership, and demanded Agni Kai, to settle the dispute. Takumi had been a skilled bender, top of his class, and he served as an object lesson to the rest of the crew. A lesson which Firelord Azula explained over his charred corpse, "So long as I am your Firelord, treason shall never go unpunished!" No one, from her crew, had ever challenged her again. Nor did they ever entertain such madness again.
However, even in death, Takumi had done more damage to the Firelord's mind than he likely hadn't anticipated. Her mind had nearly torn at the seams, in paranoia, and her spirit had faltered. Eventually, she found some solace and support from the two girls that had accompanied her, and she dove further into the affairs of this world to distract herself. 'The chaos of her mind prevents her from being here,' he thought. Now, the only path before Firelord Azula, led forward, always forward. Xai Bau knew as he was sure she knew, that the Firelord could not afford to misstep. Not here. Not on this world, because it was unforgiving. Just then, he heard something in the blackness surrounding the grove, the monster that always seemed drawn to this place, its multiple eyes reflecting the light from the flames, and its cold breath bringing a chill to his heart. As he sat staring into the darkness, he remembered the phrase the Red Priestess, and her followers would chant. "For the night is dark, and full of terrors."
"Still contemplating the nature of the world, Xai?" came a familiar voice, as the mysterious creature retreated back into the void.
"No, Prince Steffon, just watching the shadows," was his response, as he continued staring off into the dark.
"I am no Prince," the young man said, clad in an academy uniform of red, black, and gold. He sat down and crossed his legs.
"Not yet," he retorted, turning his head towards the speaker, and Prince Steffon twitched. "You are working towards deposing the false Prince, and his siblings. Are you not?" he spoke. Just as he had confided in the Prince about his allegiance to the White Lotus, so too had the Prince confided in him about the plans his mother had worked towards. Both statements were treasonous, and both could lead to death. Xai Bau, however, cared little for this world. He would not risk his life, and that of his daughter's, to tell the Queen, and Steffon cared too much to betray his trust and lose his spiritual teacher. 'He was an excellent student,' he thought, 'I had hoped to have the Firelord, herself, as my protégé. Her mind, however, proved too chaotic and her attentions were diverted elsewhere. Ursa was powerful but too focused on the physical world to ever truly achieve the peace of mind necessary to transcend. As for little Ty Lee, well, there was hope for her yet.'
"Yes, but it does not taste well spilling forth from my mouth. Joffrey is a fool, and the Queen even more so, but the rest? Myrcella and Tommen? I know my mother, and she will not let them live. Even if my father was to show them mercy and have them keep their lives. She will not tolerate them living and remaining a threat to her rule. One carriage ride to the Wall or Casterly Rock? One tragic raid by 'bandits,' leaving no survivors." His shoulders slumped, but his eyes remained hard, glancing towards the ground.
"And still you follow her?" he questioned, looking towards his young student.
"She is my mother, she is my Firelord, and I have no other choice," he spoke in resignation, before looking up at him. "What am I to do? Betray my family? Risk their lives? Just because Cersei chose to bear her brother's children? Her children are innocent, yes, but so are my sisters. So is Margaery, my father, Theon, Kai, and all the men and women sworn to my father and mother. I will not betray them, to protect my honor. If I follow, then my mother has promised a minimal loss of innocent life. If I resist? She holds Margaery, and even though I have struggled to remain indifferent to her, my mother is nothing if not observant. It won't take much for her to discover the fondness I hold for Margaery, if she hasn't already, and squeeze me into submission." As the Prince spoke, the tiny, pink, buttermoth rested on his shoulder. The Prince reached over his shoulder and petted the spirits tiny, hairy, back with his index finger. After he lowered his hand back to his lap he resumed speaking his thoughts. "We have had these discussions before, Xai. Why do we always return to them?"
"Because they weigh down your spirit," he stated.
The Prince inhaled, and deflated as if preparing to respond before abandoning the subject entirely. "I am here to tell you, that my mother is planning to make her way to King's Landing. She wants to know what progress has been made in regards to the wildfire?"
Unsurprised by the sudden shift in topic, the wise man responded, "Much of the wildfire underneath the Red Keep, the Sept, and the Dragonpit has been removed and disposed of. It was difficult to move so little at a time, especially considering the amount of discomfort the strange liquid causes in benders. Not to mention having to evade the Queen's, Littlefinger's, and the Eunuch's army of informants."
"This is true, but you've had six years to see it done, not including the seven years prior to you being installed as overseer of this operation," said the Prince.
"The spirits watch over your mother, Prince Steffon. Had Firelord Azula and her royal guard not been present in the throne room, fifteen years ago, with King Robert and the rest, looking over the corpses of the royal family, she may not have been alerted to the strange liquid in enough time to have it removed."
"Yes, I was told the sickness was less than pleasant," Steffon replied, looking him in the eye.
*****
(King's Landing: 11/22/283 AC) Xai Bau I
After the fall of King Aerys, and the sack of the capital, by Tywin Lannister and his son, Lord Stark had come to re-establish order to the broken city. Lord Stark had been incensed by the levels of chaos and death Tywin Lannister's betrayal had caused. This had been further fueled once he had been made aware of the brutal deaths of Rhaegar's wife and children. King Robert had arrived, along with an anxious Lord of the Vale, to survey the carnage. The Firelord, who had recently sunk the majority of the Royal Fleet at Dragonstone and prevented escape by sea, with the Ozai, arrived a short time later, her prisoner in tow, after the bodies of the former Princess Elia of Dorne and her children had been laid before the new King. History repeated itself, it seemed, as she commanded him, the former captain, to safely maneuver the Ozai into the harbor and dock. The Firelord entered the city of King's Landing, with her own guard, himself included. Her childhood friends had remained aboard the Ozai and during the entire march, up to the keep, he had felt himself grow queasy. At first, he thought it came from seeing the aftermath of the sack, and simply brushed it aside. The Firelord held a disgusted sneer on her face during the march, and truth be told, she looked somewhat less than intimidating with her fairly large belly. As they entered the Throne Room of the Red Keep, he felt nausea wash over him, saw others begin to sway, but they kept on, to present their prisoner.
The Firelord had not even glanced at the bodies covered in the crimson Lannister cloaks, before speaking and bending the knee as much as she could in her state, "Your Grace! I have sunk the royal fleet at Dragonstone on your command and laid waste to its defenders. Dragonstone is yours, as is the former prince, Viserys Targaryen." At that, the younger commander Lee kicked the scared child forward and lifted the black shroud covering his face. Then, without fanfare, they all keeled over in pain, and the Firelord emptied her stomach all over the stone floor, before collapsing. Two years after the incident, the Firelord had a handful of her R'hllor agents infiltrate King's Landing, and find out why King's Landing had made her and her benders ill. When they had finally deduced the ill feeling to be coming from Wildfire, the Firelord set out to find out where it was. Her red spies searched high and low, before discovering the first cache underneath the Dragonpit, and ultimately the large caches underneath the Red Keep and the Sept of Baelor.
******
(King's Landing: Grove of the Burning Tree: 12/30/297 AC) Xai Bau I
'The Firelord had been surprised, and had wondered who had ordered the creation of so much Wildfire, and for what purpose,' Xai Bau remembered.
After the discovery, the Firelord's spies had spoken to the pyromancers at the Alchemist's Guild in King's Landing, asking how to move Wildfire.
"That it was. Which it made it no easy task," he said, before the Prince spoke.
"Be thankful my mother had not considered you expendable enough to send you here until the work had already been half done."
"Thank the spirits for small favors," he said grimly before the clop of hooves and the fluttering of robes emerged from the darkness. Both snapped their heads towards the rustling sounds, unable to pierce the blackness surrounding their little island. They only saw the reflection of eight pairs of eyes staring back at them, seven were of pure shimmering light, while the eighth held a red, menacing glow.
"Hooves? It is the black goat," he said.
"Yes, and the shimmering eyes? It is the seven," said the Prince in a dark tone.
"The flame draws them to this place, though they cannot enter, not while the fire burns," he muttered, letting the last part of his sentence to go unspoken.
"Not while the Firenation endures," the Prince said as if reading his thoughts.
The coldness returned and his hairs stood on end. He heard the hooves clatter, and the robes flutter, back into the abyss. A cold, heavy, breath reemerged from the darkness. "And that one. That one despises us…"
"It does," said the Prince.
"Perhaps this is not the time," he said, as he remembered the date, "but happy birthday." The Prince reacted with a surprised look.
'This place is growing,' Xai Bau thought, as he surveyed his meager surroundings. 'Where once there had been a single glowing flame atop a withering bush, surrounded by darkness,' he observed in satisfaction, 'had become an inferno, forever burning, atop an ever-growing tree.' A white dragon bush had grown and, surprisingly, three spirits had come to populate this small island of light. Where the spirits had come from, he held no clue. However, he thought, 'they were welcome companions compared to what hid in the darkness. Two old snakes and a buttermoth.' The twin snakes rested alongside the burning tree, hissing at each other, in a discussion only they could discern. Sometimes the snakes would turn, while deep in gossip, and ask him to "go away." They would then casually return to hissing at each other. The first time they had spoken to him had surprised the man. So much so, that the former captain of 'the Ozai' thought himself going mad. As the snakes argued, a small pink buttermoth fluttered around the white dragon bush. 'I'm sure Iroh would have appreciated that bush,' came his thought as he glanced at the red and white flowers of the small piece of shrubbery. The light, from the burning tree, illuminated a small area around it, large enough to fit a group of twenty people, but no more. 'How fitting,' he snorted. From the entire crew of the Ozai, only Lee had been willing to learn the act of meditation, from him. Commander Lee sought peace from the life he left behind and a meaning to the new life that had been forced upon him. 'A noble cause,' thought Xai Bau. 'The memories of the family that he had been torn away from, would always haunt him.'
Xai Bau did hold faith in the newer generation of Firenation citizens and mixed bloods. Westrosi lacked the ability to enter the spirit world, and he held that it was either because whatever spirituality they held was long dead, or that they were simply not from his world. The mixed bloods were a different story, however, and they did not have the sterile upbringing of the original crew. Mixed bloods, and the trueborn children of Firenation parentage were allowed a small modicum of freedom in expression and exploration of their spirit. Even so, the dedication and focus necessary was beyond many of them, save eleven possibly twelve of them. Of the twelve, three had been of keen interest to him; Steffon, Ty Lee, and his own daughter Jun.
When the crew of the Ozai had first arrived, Xai Bau had been caught up in Azula's ascension to Firelord. He was sure the Firelord remembered, what he had done, but it hardly mattered to her now. It had been a simple 'mistake' to 'accidentally' reveal what the true status of the Exiled Prince and the Dragon of the West was to be aboard the barge, fifteen years ago. The man had known Iroh for being a leading member of the White Lotus. Whether or not Iroh had identified him, as a fellow White Lotus member, was open to debate. Needless to say, it had taken Xai Bau no small amount of courage to speak the word 'prisoners' when welcoming Prince Zuko and Iroh aboard. The spirits had been watching out for him that day, as the Prince had pushed him overboard. The Princess had been so incensed at her defeat against the Old General, that when the man from the order of the White Lotus finally came back aboard, she had simply demoted him to a janitor. A dark chuckle escaped his lips.
Firelord Azula had planned and schemed to get into the good graces of the sovereign of this foreign land, King Robert Baratheon, and to gain position. The original purpose of the crew had been to not only keep Firelord Ozai's daughter safe but to keep an eye on her and deal with her if necessary. Ozai had been no fool, and he knew how dangerous his own daughter was. That was why only the most skilled of Firebenders and soldiers had been present onboard, along with the standard crewmen needed for ship maintenance. If Ozai had given the command, 'to subdue and detain, or eliminate,' the crew had been prepared to follow it. Truthfully, Xai Bau had been aboard, not only for his skill but to observe the Princess and make sure no harm came to the Avatar if he should be discovered in their travels. 'But now?' he thought to himself, 'Ozai was gone, the Avatar was gone, and only Azula remained.' A single fool from the original crew, Takumi, had seen this as an opportunity to become Firelord. He had issued a challenge for leadership, and demanded Agni Kai, to settle the dispute. Takumi had been a skilled bender, top of his class, and he served as an object lesson to the rest of the crew. A lesson which Firelord Azula explained over his charred corpse, "So long as I am your Firelord, treason shall never go unpunished!" No one, from her crew, had ever challenged her again. Nor did they ever entertain such madness again.
However, even in death, Takumi had done more damage to the Firelord's mind than he likely hadn't anticipated. Her mind had nearly torn at the seams, in paranoia, and her spirit had faltered. Eventually, she found some solace and support from the two girls that had accompanied her, and she dove further into the affairs of this world to distract herself. 'The chaos of her mind prevents her from being here,' he thought. Now, the only path before Firelord Azula, led forward, always forward. Xai Bau knew as he was sure she knew, that the Firelord could not afford to misstep. Not here. Not on this world, because it was unforgiving. Just then, he heard something in the blackness surrounding the grove, the monster that always seemed drawn to this place, its multiple eyes reflecting the light from the flames, and its cold breath bringing a chill to his heart. As he sat staring into the darkness, he remembered the phrase the Red Priestess, and her followers would chant. "For the night is dark, and full of terrors."
"Still contemplating the nature of the world, Xai?" came a familiar voice, as the mysterious creature retreated back into the void.
"No, Prince Steffon, just watching the shadows," was his response, as he continued staring off into the dark.
"I am no Prince," the young man said, clad in an academy uniform of red, black, and gold. He sat down and crossed his legs.
"Not yet," he retorted, turning his head towards the speaker, and Prince Steffon twitched. "You are working towards deposing the false Prince, and his siblings. Are you not?" he spoke. Just as he had confided in the Prince about his allegiance to the White Lotus, so too had the Prince confided in him about the plans his mother had worked towards. Both statements were treasonous, and both could lead to death. Xai Bau, however, cared little for this world. He would not risk his life, and that of his daughter's, to tell the Queen, and Steffon cared too much to betray his trust and lose his spiritual teacher. 'He was an excellent student,' he thought, 'I had hoped to have the Firelord, herself, as my protégé. Her mind, however, proved too chaotic and her attentions were diverted elsewhere. Ursa was powerful but too focused on the physical world to ever truly achieve the peace of mind necessary to transcend. As for little Ty Lee, well, there was hope for her yet.'
"Yes, but it does not taste well spilling forth from my mouth. Joffrey is a fool, and the Queen even more so, but the rest? Myrcella and Tommen? I know my mother, and she will not let them live. Even if my father was to show them mercy and have them keep their lives. She will not tolerate them living and remaining a threat to her rule. One carriage ride to the Wall or Casterly Rock? One tragic raid by 'bandits,' leaving no survivors." His shoulders slumped, but his eyes remained hard, glancing towards the ground.
"And still you follow her?" he questioned, looking towards his young student.
"She is my mother, she is my Firelord, and I have no other choice," he spoke in resignation, before looking up at him. "What am I to do? Betray my family? Risk their lives? Just because Cersei chose to bear her brother's children? Her children are innocent, yes, but so are my sisters. So is Margaery, my father, Theon, Kai, and all the men and women sworn to my father and mother. I will not betray them, to protect my honor. If I follow, then my mother has promised a minimal loss of innocent life. If I resist? She holds Margaery, and even though I have struggled to remain indifferent to her, my mother is nothing if not observant. It won't take much for her to discover the fondness I hold for Margaery, if she hasn't already, and squeeze me into submission." As the Prince spoke, the tiny, pink, buttermoth rested on his shoulder. The Prince reached over his shoulder and petted the spirits tiny, hairy, back with his index finger. After he lowered his hand back to his lap he resumed speaking his thoughts. "We have had these discussions before, Xai. Why do we always return to them?"
"Because they weigh down your spirit," he stated.
The Prince inhaled, and deflated as if preparing to respond before abandoning the subject entirely. "I am here to tell you, that my mother is planning to make her way to King's Landing. She wants to know what progress has been made in regards to the wildfire?"
Unsurprised by the sudden shift in topic, the wise man responded, "Much of the wildfire underneath the Red Keep, the Sept, and the Dragonpit has been removed and disposed of. It was difficult to move so little at a time, especially considering the amount of discomfort the strange liquid causes in benders. Not to mention having to evade the Queen's, Littlefinger's, and the Eunuch's army of informants."
"This is true, but you've had six years to see it done, not including the seven years prior to you being installed as overseer of this operation," said the Prince.
"The spirits watch over your mother, Prince Steffon. Had Firelord Azula and her royal guard not been present in the throne room, fifteen years ago, with King Robert and the rest, looking over the corpses of the royal family, she may not have been alerted to the strange liquid in enough time to have it removed."
"Yes, I was told the sickness was less than pleasant," Steffon replied, looking him in the eye.
*****
(King's Landing: 11/22/283 AC) Xai Bau I
After the fall of King Aerys, and the sack of the capital, by Tywin Lannister and his son, Lord Stark had come to re-establish order to the broken city. Lord Stark had been incensed by the levels of chaos and death Tywin Lannister's betrayal had caused. This had been further fueled once he had been made aware of the brutal deaths of Rhaegar's wife and children. King Robert had arrived, along with an anxious Lord of the Vale, to survey the carnage. The Firelord, who had recently sunk the majority of the Royal Fleet at Dragonstone and prevented escape by sea, with the Ozai, arrived a short time later, her prisoner in tow, after the bodies of the former Princess Elia of Dorne and her children had been laid before the new King. History repeated itself, it seemed, as she commanded him, the former captain, to safely maneuver the Ozai into the harbor and dock. The Firelord entered the city of King's Landing, with her own guard, himself included. Her childhood friends had remained aboard the Ozai and during the entire march, up to the keep, he had felt himself grow queasy. At first, he thought it came from seeing the aftermath of the sack, and simply brushed it aside. The Firelord held a disgusted sneer on her face during the march, and truth be told, she looked somewhat less than intimidating with her fairly large belly. As they entered the Throne Room of the Red Keep, he felt nausea wash over him, saw others begin to sway, but they kept on, to present their prisoner.
The Firelord had not even glanced at the bodies covered in the crimson Lannister cloaks, before speaking and bending the knee as much as she could in her state, "Your Grace! I have sunk the royal fleet at Dragonstone on your command and laid waste to its defenders. Dragonstone is yours, as is the former prince, Viserys Targaryen." At that, the younger commander Lee kicked the scared child forward and lifted the black shroud covering his face. Then, without fanfare, they all keeled over in pain, and the Firelord emptied her stomach all over the stone floor, before collapsing. Two years after the incident, the Firelord had a handful of her R'hllor agents infiltrate King's Landing, and find out why King's Landing had made her and her benders ill. When they had finally deduced the ill feeling to be coming from Wildfire, the Firelord set out to find out where it was. Her red spies searched high and low, before discovering the first cache underneath the Dragonpit, and ultimately the large caches underneath the Red Keep and the Sept of Baelor.
******
(King's Landing: Grove of the Burning Tree: 12/30/297 AC) Xai Bau I
'The Firelord had been surprised, and had wondered who had ordered the creation of so much Wildfire, and for what purpose,' Xai Bau remembered.
After the discovery, the Firelord's spies had spoken to the pyromancers at the Alchemist's Guild in King's Landing, asking how to move Wildfire.
"That it was. Which it made it no easy task," he said, before the Prince spoke.
"Be thankful my mother had not considered you expendable enough to send you here until the work had already been half done."
"Thank the spirits for small favors," he said grimly before the clop of hooves and the fluttering of robes emerged from the darkness. Both snapped their heads towards the rustling sounds, unable to pierce the blackness surrounding their little island. They only saw the reflection of eight pairs of eyes staring back at them, seven were of pure shimmering light, while the eighth held a red, menacing glow.
"Hooves? It is the black goat," he said.
"Yes, and the shimmering eyes? It is the seven," said the Prince in a dark tone.
"The flame draws them to this place, though they cannot enter, not while the fire burns," he muttered, letting the last part of his sentence to go unspoken.
"Not while the Firenation endures," the Prince said as if reading his thoughts.
The coldness returned and his hairs stood on end. He heard the hooves clatter, and the robes flutter, back into the abyss. A cold, heavy, breath reemerged from the darkness. "And that one. That one despises us…"
"It does," said the Prince.
"Perhaps this is not the time," he said, as he remembered the date, "but happy birthday." The Prince reacted with a surprised look.
(Dragonstone: 1/1/298 AC) Lady Stork II
- Location
- U.S.
(Dragonstone: 1/1/298 AC) Lady Stork II
'Hmmm, she has redecorated,' the former mummer from Braavos, now royal body double, thought. The Firelord had summoned her, and the former maester, Qyburn, to her office beneath the Administration Building Complex. She had been sitting there long enough, that her mind began to wander. Over the last seven years since their first introduction, the Firelord had carved in and downwards, using her altered Tank-train, that allowed for a mounted drill-head, from a predetermined location within the Administration grounds. It had taken a little more than a year, after several 'technical difficulties' as her engineers had said, for the experimental design to make its way down to the caverns. What had taken longer, was the construction of the lift, which had taken a rather large amount of men and materials to make for a 'quick lift,' as the Firelord had called it. Due to being who she was, the Firelord wanted expediency, and the utmost safety, when she deigned to descend into her inner sanctum. At the top of the lift, was a large steel covering which would slide open to allow for descent, or ascent from below. The covering was disguised, on the opposite side, as a large thick, circular, rug bearing the Firenation sigil. It was housed within the Firelord's royal apartment building, which itself was the most heavily guarded building on the Island. It was located close enough towards the Academy barracks to allow for a quick response if the Firelord needed assistance below.
In addition to the lift, a central hall, and several large rooms had been added to the underground facilities since. A meditation room, complete with small, adjacent, quarters, had been constructed to house and train the acolytes of 'the Order of the Burning Tree.' She was still unsure of how their meditation worked, and neither the Acolytes nor the Fire Lord had been forthcoming with information. As curious as she was, she knew not to begin asking questions, or the Firelord would grow suspicious. If it concerned her position as Royal double, then the Firelord would tell her. If it did not, then "stay silent," she would say. The large study outside of the Firelord's office was expanded and could now house twice as many people as it had before, with several rooms having been added in the dim, underground, halls to allow the red priests and priestesses their own living room, away from prying eyes.
However, by far the 'greatest' additions to the caverns, were the holding cells from where the old Maester would 'recruit' men for his experiments. The cells, currently overflowing with recent pirate prisoners from the Stepstones campaign, were damp, confined little spaces, in near pitch black lighting. There were enough of them to hold upwards to nearly three hundred poor souls. They were fed the barest of sustenance, given thin sheets that seemed unlikely to keep away the cold, and they were always watched by the Maester's creations.
'The old man held the title 'Master of Medicine,' within the Grand Academy, but if people knew the truth,' Lady Stork thought, casting a sideward glance towards the man sitting beside her, head buried in a book, 'they would call him the 'Maker of Monsters.''
The only silver lining for the prisoners was that the Firelord did not want them dying of infection or cold, and would provide a time where a 'cleaner' would arrive to spray them down with a warm jet of water and provide fresh clothing, in addition to a single time a day to relieve oneself in the privy. Escapes were sometimes allowed to occur, to blood the newest batches of the Maester's 'Repurposed men.'
As she continued staring at Qyburn, and the illustrations within the book, one of the last being of a forehead with some form of an eye, tattooed, in its center, did Lady Stork finally asked, "What are you reading Qyburn?"
"Oh!" he chuckled in surprise as only a 'kindly' old man could. "It is a fascinating book, gifted to me from her royal majesty, the Firelord," he looked towards Azula, and her eyes followed.
The Firelord was still focused on whatever she was writing, when they had entered, or attempting to write. She appeared to be trying to mimic a form of hand, found on a separate sheet of parchment, to one she had before her, with varying degrees of success. She tried to get a better look at the signature, on the original copy of parchment, seeing the letters "Pe" cut off towards the bottom, before the Firelord spoke, startling the Royal double.
"You are being nosy again, Lady Stork," the Firelord uttered, without raising her head.
She tried to quickly recover, preparing her response, before the Firelord added, "I was not finished yet."
Lady Stork remained silent, hands at her lap. At the corner of her eye, she noticed Qyburn, finally set down his book, but not before marking where he had left off.
"Judging by what you just saw, without looking back down at what I am doing, what did you see?" the Firelord questioned. "Qyburn, keep an eye on her and make sure her eyes do not wander back towards me until she answers the question."
She heard Qyburn shift to her side, causing her to gaze upwards towards the black stone ceiling. "You are trying to mimic the hand of another," she stated, and the Firelord remained silent, as a signal for her to continue. "To send false correspondence, and perhaps conflicting commands?"
"You are observant and quick in the art of deduction. That is good. However," the Firelord stated, "you still lack the patience I can be known to exhibit. Though to be fair, you did last an hour and a half this time, as opposed to last time's forty-three minutes. Bravo." She continued, looking down at her parchment, writing down another line, this one closer to the target hand than the last.
She was set to ask, 'How?' but knew the Firelord was formulating her own response.
"It was your breathing. You can always tell when someone begins to focus," she finally said, head still down, hand still writing. "It's a minor detail you need work on, but nothing catastrophically bad. At least, not for the mission I have planned for you and Qyburn."
She heard the seat to her left creak, as Qyburn straightened himself up, with her quickly following.
"As you well know, we recently had some problems, involving pirates," the Firelord began. "What you do not know is that, while the pirates were an unforeseen development, my son's involvement in the subsequent campaign was not accidental. For I had intended for him to earn his knighthood, and this provided an opportunity. However," she finally set her quill down, and looked at them, "my husband chose to be unreasonable. So I had to create an opening for Steffon to exploit, without his knowledge, in gaining passage aboard the 'Firestorm.' I knew Steffon was skilled and hungered to prove his worth," as she spoke, the Firelord turned, and glanced towards the portrait of the family she forged with Lord Stannis. Lady Stork's eyes followed her. Like the boy in the portrait of her family from childhood's past so too did the young boy in her current family portrait, hold a small warm smile. In a sea of stern faces, only his face, and the face of the bubbly youth, Ty Lee Baratheon, stood out. The eldest Baratheon daughter, Ursa, remained emotionless as if carved from stone. Lady Stork saw the Firelord shake herself out of her own thoughts, before clearing her throat, and continuing. "More importantly, I also knew the King would wish to knight my son, himself," she turned back towards them. "Therefore, the King would need my son to go to King's Landing, and I would not need to expose myself too soon. Before we disembarked from the Stepstones, I gave my son a message to pass on to Lord Arryn. A message which, given recent developments within King's Landing, has proven to have had the intended consequences. As such, the time for the Firelord to make her return to King's Landing, is finally at hand."
'She has a knack for the theatrical, she would have made for quite the mummer,' Lady Stork thought.
"I have begun preparations to make our way to King's Landing, and we set sail, in nine days," she proclaimed.
'Nine days?!' she thought in brief surprise, not letting the surprise come to her eyes.
"When we arrive, Lady Stork," the Firelord continued, "we will arrive as each other. You will be me, and I will be you," she cast a quick look towards Qyburn, "and you will stay the same." The Firelord rose from her ornate desk, and searched through the bookshelf behind her, before choosing a large, well-bound, black book. "This," she slammed the book down, "is a series of notes, describing locations you both are to visit, individuals you are to speak to, questions you are to ask, and paths you are to take while in King's Landing. While Lady Stork bears my likeness, I don't want either of you leaving each other's sights. Qyburn?"
"Yes, Firelord?" the elderly man responded with a quick bow of his head.
"Do you still have the short list I had you make a few days ago? Of the 'Repurposed' you have ready?" she demanded.
"Yes, my Firelord," he replied, "they are in my quarters."
"Pick two of the most capable," the Firelord ordered, "and make them ready for the trip. For they will be your shadows," she stared at her and Qyburn, before continuing. "I do not want either of you to enter or even go anywhere near Xai Bau's tea shop. Especially you," the Firelord pointed at her, "while you are wearing my mask. You, Lady Stork, will be sharing quarters with my husband to keep up appearances. Rest assured he knows you will be in disguise, and I will come relieve you of your duties nightly, so you do not find yourself in a compromising situation. Not that my husband is a man prone to blind passion, or any such nonsense, like his brother, but as his wife, I'd rather not leave him alone with another woman at night. Qyburn, my spies have secured some modest quarters for you, at an Inn within Eel Alley, on Visenya's Hill. When you are not me, Lady Stork, do not seek Qyburn out. That goes double for you, Qyburn," she looked towards the old maester. "And if you two should happen upon each other during those times when I have no pressing need of you, do not be seen walking together or speaking together, unless she bears my likeness and can either bend or has your two shadows. Is all of this clear?" the Firelord demand.
"Yes, my Firelord," she and Qyburn responded in unison.
"Good, research the notes I have given you, and remember, we have nine days. Oh! And Qyburn?"
"Yes, my Firelord?" he asked.
"Leave a list with your disciples on which ones are ready and which are not. At last count, I seem to remember there being around thirty being combat capable, correct?" she asked rhetorically.
Lady Stork knew the Firelord was never one lacking in information. When she asked, she asked to see if your information held any discrepancies with her own up to date information. When she asks in surprise, she does so to lower your guard. 'She was good,' Lady Stork thought, 'and she taught me well, but I am not arrogant enough to assume she taught me everything she knew. Seven hells, I'm not even sure the few 'tells' I managed to divine from her were genuine or just meant to make her think she identified them. Damn you…' she let out a mental chuckle.
"Yes, my Firelord, thirty exactly," Qyburn stated proudly.
"Before you leave, tell your students to raise that number to sixty. We have full cells, at the moment, so let's make use of them," the Firelord instructed.
"By your will, Firelord," he responded serenely.
"Well, we all have preparations to make, before we leave. You are both dismissed," she commanded.
'Hmmm, she has redecorated,' the former mummer from Braavos, now royal body double, thought. The Firelord had summoned her, and the former maester, Qyburn, to her office beneath the Administration Building Complex. She had been sitting there long enough, that her mind began to wander. Over the last seven years since their first introduction, the Firelord had carved in and downwards, using her altered Tank-train, that allowed for a mounted drill-head, from a predetermined location within the Administration grounds. It had taken a little more than a year, after several 'technical difficulties' as her engineers had said, for the experimental design to make its way down to the caverns. What had taken longer, was the construction of the lift, which had taken a rather large amount of men and materials to make for a 'quick lift,' as the Firelord had called it. Due to being who she was, the Firelord wanted expediency, and the utmost safety, when she deigned to descend into her inner sanctum. At the top of the lift, was a large steel covering which would slide open to allow for descent, or ascent from below. The covering was disguised, on the opposite side, as a large thick, circular, rug bearing the Firenation sigil. It was housed within the Firelord's royal apartment building, which itself was the most heavily guarded building on the Island. It was located close enough towards the Academy barracks to allow for a quick response if the Firelord needed assistance below.
In addition to the lift, a central hall, and several large rooms had been added to the underground facilities since. A meditation room, complete with small, adjacent, quarters, had been constructed to house and train the acolytes of 'the Order of the Burning Tree.' She was still unsure of how their meditation worked, and neither the Acolytes nor the Fire Lord had been forthcoming with information. As curious as she was, she knew not to begin asking questions, or the Firelord would grow suspicious. If it concerned her position as Royal double, then the Firelord would tell her. If it did not, then "stay silent," she would say. The large study outside of the Firelord's office was expanded and could now house twice as many people as it had before, with several rooms having been added in the dim, underground, halls to allow the red priests and priestesses their own living room, away from prying eyes.
However, by far the 'greatest' additions to the caverns, were the holding cells from where the old Maester would 'recruit' men for his experiments. The cells, currently overflowing with recent pirate prisoners from the Stepstones campaign, were damp, confined little spaces, in near pitch black lighting. There were enough of them to hold upwards to nearly three hundred poor souls. They were fed the barest of sustenance, given thin sheets that seemed unlikely to keep away the cold, and they were always watched by the Maester's creations.
'The old man held the title 'Master of Medicine,' within the Grand Academy, but if people knew the truth,' Lady Stork thought, casting a sideward glance towards the man sitting beside her, head buried in a book, 'they would call him the 'Maker of Monsters.''
The only silver lining for the prisoners was that the Firelord did not want them dying of infection or cold, and would provide a time where a 'cleaner' would arrive to spray them down with a warm jet of water and provide fresh clothing, in addition to a single time a day to relieve oneself in the privy. Escapes were sometimes allowed to occur, to blood the newest batches of the Maester's 'Repurposed men.'
As she continued staring at Qyburn, and the illustrations within the book, one of the last being of a forehead with some form of an eye, tattooed, in its center, did Lady Stork finally asked, "What are you reading Qyburn?"
"Oh!" he chuckled in surprise as only a 'kindly' old man could. "It is a fascinating book, gifted to me from her royal majesty, the Firelord," he looked towards Azula, and her eyes followed.
The Firelord was still focused on whatever she was writing, when they had entered, or attempting to write. She appeared to be trying to mimic a form of hand, found on a separate sheet of parchment, to one she had before her, with varying degrees of success. She tried to get a better look at the signature, on the original copy of parchment, seeing the letters "Pe" cut off towards the bottom, before the Firelord spoke, startling the Royal double.
"You are being nosy again, Lady Stork," the Firelord uttered, without raising her head.
She tried to quickly recover, preparing her response, before the Firelord added, "I was not finished yet."
Lady Stork remained silent, hands at her lap. At the corner of her eye, she noticed Qyburn, finally set down his book, but not before marking where he had left off.
"Judging by what you just saw, without looking back down at what I am doing, what did you see?" the Firelord questioned. "Qyburn, keep an eye on her and make sure her eyes do not wander back towards me until she answers the question."
She heard Qyburn shift to her side, causing her to gaze upwards towards the black stone ceiling. "You are trying to mimic the hand of another," she stated, and the Firelord remained silent, as a signal for her to continue. "To send false correspondence, and perhaps conflicting commands?"
"You are observant and quick in the art of deduction. That is good. However," the Firelord stated, "you still lack the patience I can be known to exhibit. Though to be fair, you did last an hour and a half this time, as opposed to last time's forty-three minutes. Bravo." She continued, looking down at her parchment, writing down another line, this one closer to the target hand than the last.
She was set to ask, 'How?' but knew the Firelord was formulating her own response.
"It was your breathing. You can always tell when someone begins to focus," she finally said, head still down, hand still writing. "It's a minor detail you need work on, but nothing catastrophically bad. At least, not for the mission I have planned for you and Qyburn."
She heard the seat to her left creak, as Qyburn straightened himself up, with her quickly following.
"As you well know, we recently had some problems, involving pirates," the Firelord began. "What you do not know is that, while the pirates were an unforeseen development, my son's involvement in the subsequent campaign was not accidental. For I had intended for him to earn his knighthood, and this provided an opportunity. However," she finally set her quill down, and looked at them, "my husband chose to be unreasonable. So I had to create an opening for Steffon to exploit, without his knowledge, in gaining passage aboard the 'Firestorm.' I knew Steffon was skilled and hungered to prove his worth," as she spoke, the Firelord turned, and glanced towards the portrait of the family she forged with Lord Stannis. Lady Stork's eyes followed her. Like the boy in the portrait of her family from childhood's past so too did the young boy in her current family portrait, hold a small warm smile. In a sea of stern faces, only his face, and the face of the bubbly youth, Ty Lee Baratheon, stood out. The eldest Baratheon daughter, Ursa, remained emotionless as if carved from stone. Lady Stork saw the Firelord shake herself out of her own thoughts, before clearing her throat, and continuing. "More importantly, I also knew the King would wish to knight my son, himself," she turned back towards them. "Therefore, the King would need my son to go to King's Landing, and I would not need to expose myself too soon. Before we disembarked from the Stepstones, I gave my son a message to pass on to Lord Arryn. A message which, given recent developments within King's Landing, has proven to have had the intended consequences. As such, the time for the Firelord to make her return to King's Landing, is finally at hand."
'She has a knack for the theatrical, she would have made for quite the mummer,' Lady Stork thought.
"I have begun preparations to make our way to King's Landing, and we set sail, in nine days," she proclaimed.
'Nine days?!' she thought in brief surprise, not letting the surprise come to her eyes.
"When we arrive, Lady Stork," the Firelord continued, "we will arrive as each other. You will be me, and I will be you," she cast a quick look towards Qyburn, "and you will stay the same." The Firelord rose from her ornate desk, and searched through the bookshelf behind her, before choosing a large, well-bound, black book. "This," she slammed the book down, "is a series of notes, describing locations you both are to visit, individuals you are to speak to, questions you are to ask, and paths you are to take while in King's Landing. While Lady Stork bears my likeness, I don't want either of you leaving each other's sights. Qyburn?"
"Yes, Firelord?" the elderly man responded with a quick bow of his head.
"Do you still have the short list I had you make a few days ago? Of the 'Repurposed' you have ready?" she demanded.
"Yes, my Firelord," he replied, "they are in my quarters."
"Pick two of the most capable," the Firelord ordered, "and make them ready for the trip. For they will be your shadows," she stared at her and Qyburn, before continuing. "I do not want either of you to enter or even go anywhere near Xai Bau's tea shop. Especially you," the Firelord pointed at her, "while you are wearing my mask. You, Lady Stork, will be sharing quarters with my husband to keep up appearances. Rest assured he knows you will be in disguise, and I will come relieve you of your duties nightly, so you do not find yourself in a compromising situation. Not that my husband is a man prone to blind passion, or any such nonsense, like his brother, but as his wife, I'd rather not leave him alone with another woman at night. Qyburn, my spies have secured some modest quarters for you, at an Inn within Eel Alley, on Visenya's Hill. When you are not me, Lady Stork, do not seek Qyburn out. That goes double for you, Qyburn," she looked towards the old maester. "And if you two should happen upon each other during those times when I have no pressing need of you, do not be seen walking together or speaking together, unless she bears my likeness and can either bend or has your two shadows. Is all of this clear?" the Firelord demand.
"Yes, my Firelord," she and Qyburn responded in unison.
"Good, research the notes I have given you, and remember, we have nine days. Oh! And Qyburn?"
"Yes, my Firelord?" he asked.
"Leave a list with your disciples on which ones are ready and which are not. At last count, I seem to remember there being around thirty being combat capable, correct?" she asked rhetorically.
Lady Stork knew the Firelord was never one lacking in information. When she asked, she asked to see if your information held any discrepancies with her own up to date information. When she asks in surprise, she does so to lower your guard. 'She was good,' Lady Stork thought, 'and she taught me well, but I am not arrogant enough to assume she taught me everything she knew. Seven hells, I'm not even sure the few 'tells' I managed to divine from her were genuine or just meant to make her think she identified them. Damn you…' she let out a mental chuckle.
"Yes, my Firelord, thirty exactly," Qyburn stated proudly.
"Before you leave, tell your students to raise that number to sixty. We have full cells, at the moment, so let's make use of them," the Firelord instructed.
"By your will, Firelord," he responded serenely.
"Well, we all have preparations to make, before we leave. You are both dismissed," she commanded.
- Location
- Utah
"The only thing, Varys, had reported, to the man, was that the former hand was massing his troops on the Goldroad, while his younger brother, Kevan Lannister, marshaled them on the Searoad, near Crakehall."
OoooooOOOOOOHH MY GOD that's so many COMMAS
OoooooOOOOOOHH MY GOD that's so many COMMAS
- Location
- U.S.
Thank you! ^_^
I am an idea man, not a writer. =)
"The only thing Varys had reported to the man was that the former hand was massing his troops on the Goldroad, while his younger brother, Kevan Lannister, marshaled them on the Searoad, near Crakehall."
Better?
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