Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Through the Eluvian
By J.C. Vascardi

-o-0-o-

Act I, Part I

-o-0-o-

Wolfswood, The North; 18 Hearthfire/Ninth Turn 298 A.C.

Jon Snow and Robb Stark came to a stop in front of a large tree about half a mile from Winterfell. They’d gone out hunting, just the two of them, although they had taken Ghost, Grey Wind, Lady, and Summer with them. The latter two remaining in Winterfell when their owners, Sansa and Bran Stark, accompanied their father, Lord Eddard Stark, south to King’s Landing.

There had been a time when Eddard’s ward, Theon Greyjoy, might have asked to accompany them on their hunting trip, but those days were long gone. Because Theon knew that Jon’s and Robb’s so-called hunting trips weren’t really hunting trips as much as they were get away from the castle and make out trips. And thus, Theon, who preferred women, had no desire to be the third wheel on his foster brothers’ excursions.

Of course, despite being raised as Eddard’s ward, which had meant joining his children in their lessons with Maester Luwin and Ser Rodrik, there were things that Theon was not trusted with since he wasn’t a Stark. One of those things was the fact that Jon wasn’t Eddard’s bastard son, but was instead his trueborn nephew. But then, very few people knew that, as Eddard had kept the secret limited to himself, his wife, and their children for Jon’s protection.

There had been quite a few people who were surprised when Jon stayed at Winterfell when Eddard went south to be Hand of the King. Many had thought that Lady Catelyn Stark wouldn’t suffer the presence of her husband’s bastard since it was a well-known fact that she hated him. Although that was only because that’s what she wanted people to believe. Catelyn had played the role of embittered wife well, which had led to nobody questioning the fact that Jon was her husband’s bastard son.

Sitting down at the base of the tree, Jon grinned at Robb and said, “You’re much too far away.”

“Well, we’ll have to remedy that won’t we?” Robb asked, with a grin of his own, after he’d finished tying up the horses to a nearby tree.

While they tended to do more making out than hunting on these trips, they still brought horses with them to carry any prey they did take. Which they always made sure to do, as it simply wouldn’t look good to the people at the castle if they frequently went out on hunting trips and returned empty-handed. So they always made sure to come back with at least half a dozen rabbits, foxes, or similar small game, or even the occasional deer.

Kneeling on the ground between Jon’s legs, Robb grinned at his secret cousin, before their lips met in a kiss that was rather chaste at first, but got progressively less so as it continued. It wasn’t long before Robb was lying on his back on the ground with Jon on top of him, as they passionately made out.

They kept their relationship with each other a secret, not because they were both men, but because everybody back at Winterfell believed them to be half-brothers. Incest was frowned on by both the Old Gods and the Faith of the Seven, although only when it was between people who were considered to be too close in relation to marry, such as siblings. But since Jon and Robb were actually first cousins there was no impediment to them being together since it was an open secret that almost all of the Stark men since time immemorial were bearers, and thus could both sire and carry children.

Jon and Robb were so busy kissing one another that they didn’t notice the soft growling of Ghost, the other three direwolves having fallen asleep, when a wisp of black smoke appeared, with a woman stepping out of it a moment later.

“Well, well, what have we here?” the woman asked, which finally got the kissing pair’s attention, as they stopped what they were doing and looked over to see a strange looking woman.

She was unlike any woman either of them had ever seen. Long gray hair cascaded down her back, except where it was gathered up to look like two pairs of horns sticking out of the back of her head. She wore a dark red leather jerkin with black feathers at the shoulders, her arms and legs covered in steel armor.

By this point, all four of the direwolves were on their feet and growling. The woman, however, showed no fear as she simply rolled her golden-colored eyes and said, “Call off your dogs. I mean you no harm.”

Rolling off of Robb, Jon said, “Down Ghost, Lady,” even as Robb said, “Down Grey Wind, Summer.” The four direwolves sat down on their haunches, but it was clear that they were more than ready to leap to the defense of their humans at a moment’s notice.

“Who are you?” Jon asked.

“I’m known by many names,” the woman said. “The Witch of the Wilds, the Mother of Vengeance, Asha’bellanar, an old hag who talks too much… but you may call me Flemeth.”

“I’ve never heard of you before,” Robb said.

Throwing her head back as she laughed, Flemeth said, “I would be quite surprised if you had, Young Wolf.” Jon’s and Robb’s eyes both widened a bit at this woman’s use of Robb’s nickname that she should have no way of knowing. “I haven’t set foot in Westeros since before Aegon’s Conquest.”

“Before Aegon’s…” Jon said, “but that was…”

“298 years ago, yes,” Flemeth said. “I am a very old, old woman.”

“You can’t expect us to believe that,” Robb said.

“You are required to do nothing, least of all believe,” Flemeth said. “Shut one’s eyes tight or open one’s arms wide… either way, one’s a fool.”

“So you’re from Essos then?” Jon asked.

“No, I’m not. And before you ask, no I’m also not from the Summer Isles, Sothoryos, or even Ulthos. I spend the majority of my time on a continent that is so far outside of your known world that nobody has ever even heard of it. It’s called Thedas.”

“You’re right, I’ve definitely never heard of Thedas,” Robb admitted. “Of course, we barely know anything about Sothoryos and even less of Essos past the city of Qarth… Ulthos is almost legendary to most people, having only the second-hand and oftentimes hazy reports of travelers from Asshai to go by.”

“Thedas is over three-thousand miles southwest of Oldtown,” Flemeth revealed. “On the other side of the Sunset Sea, which in Thedas is known as the Amaranthine Ocean. There are a few other continents and islands between Thedas and Westeros, but nobody alive today in your known world has ever set foot there, as you simply don’t have the ships necessary for such a long voyage.”

“Nobody alive today?” Jon asked. “Are you saying that people in the past have visited this Thedas?”

“Yes, I am. The First Men began arriving in Thedas many millennia ago, although not by ship. Those that did journey to Thedas did so by magical means invented by an ancient empire known in Thedas as Elvhenan… you would know its people from your own legends, however. You call them the Children of the Forest.”

Before Jon or Robb could speak, Flemeth said, “Just as the First Men originated from Essos, so too did the Children of the Forest originate from another continent. In their case, Thedas. Although they’re not known as the Children in their native country. They’re called Elves in Thedas, which is now mostly ruled by the descendants of the First Men, following the fall of Elvhenan many thousands of years ago.”

“So did their history play out the same in Thedas as it did here?” Robb asked, although if he was honest he didn’t really believe anything that the old woman was saying any more than he believed Old Nan’s stories of White Walkers.

“No,” Flemeth said. “Unlike here, where the Children and the First Men formed an alliance against the Others—White Walkers according to your Old Nan—the Elves and the First Men did not. The First Men are at least partially responsible for the fall of Elvhenan and they then went on to enslave the Elves, which has created a good deal of enmity between the two races that lasts to this day.” Shaking her head, she said, “But I did not come here to give you a history lesson.”

“Why did you come here?” Jon asked.

“To offer you my assistance in claiming the Iron Throne,” Flemeth said before she shocked both young men by adding, “Jaeherys Targaryen.”

Flemeth laughed at the wide-eyed expressions on both men’s faces and couldn’t help but wonder if either of them was having difficulty controlling their bowels. “Yes, I know who you are, Jon Snow. But that shouldn’t surprise you. I did, after all, know Robb’s nickname, despite the fact that we’ve never met before today.”

“I…” Jon started, but then stopped. “I’m not planning on taking the Iron Throne.”

“You’ll change your mind when you find out what the Usurper’s son is up to down south,” Flemeth said.

“What is he up to?” Robb asked, suddenly worried for his sister and little brother. Sansa was engaged to be married to King Joffrey, after all, and Bran was fostering in King’s Landing and training as a knight under Ser Barristan Selmy while serving as Prince Tommen’s official companion.

Turning to the side, Flemeth pointed to the sky and said, “You see that raven flying towards Winterfell?” Both men nodded, although they could only just make out the form. “It brings dire news, Lord Stark.”

“I’m not Lord Stark,” Robb argued. “That’s my father, Lord Eddard Stark.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Flemeth said. “That raven brings news that King Joffrey had your father arrested for treason. Both Queen Cersei and your sister argued for mercy on his behalf, suggesting that he be sent to the Wall to take the black, but King Joffrey ordered his execution instead. So I’m afraid, Young Wolf, as of three days ago, you are Lord Robb Stark of Winterfell, Lord Paramount and Warden of the North.”

Shaking his head, Robb said, “No, no you’re wrong.”

“I can understand why you would wish that to be so,” Flemeth said. “However, I’m not wrong. The message that raven bears also says that your father’s body has been sent north for entombment in your family crypt… minus the head. Joffrey has already ordered that put up on display on the Traitor’s Walk of the Red Keep.”

“Eddard Stark may be many things but a traitor is not one of them!” Jon exclaimed.

“Oh, I agree,” Flemeth said. “His so-called conviction for treason has no merit. The only reason it happened at all was that he found out something that certain parties did not wish to come to light. Jon Arryn made the same discovery and he’s dead too, just as Eddard Stark now is.”

“No, no, you’re wrong. My father is not dead,” Robb said. “He can’t be.”

“I can see you need some time,” Flemeth said. “I’ll return to you tomorrow to present my offer of help. Until then, I’d suggest you both head back to Winterfell.”

Before either of them could say anything, Flemeth’s whole body began to glow. A moment later, Jon, Robb, and even the direwolves jumped backward in shock as the old woman turned into a large dragon and took to the sky.

-o-0-o-

Castle Winterfell, The North; 18 Hearthfire/Ninth Turn 298 A.C.

Jon and Robb didn’t linger long, despite their absolute shock of seeing an old woman transforming into a dragon. While neither of them wanted to believe a word out of Flemeth’s mouth, they couldn’t exactly deny that she was clearly a very powerful witch. None of the legends and myths that they’d ever heard of had talked about anyone being able to turn into a dragon. The closest example was that of Prince Aerion Targaryen, also known as Aerion Brightflame, who thought he was a dragon and that drinking wildfire would turn him into one. It hadn’t worked out well for him.

Having already felled some rabbits before they decided to take a break under the tree, they headed back to Winterfell. Although it was clear almost as soon as they rode through the gates that something was wrong. Entering the feasting hall of the castle, they found Rickon and a wheelchair-bound Arya trying to comfort Catelyn who had her head in her arms on the tabletop, sobbing her eyes out.

Jon and Robb shared a look, a sinking feeling in the pit of their stomachs as they realized with no small amount of horror that what Flemeth had told them was true. A fact which was confirmed a moment later, when Catelyn hearing footsteps looked up and upon seeing Jon and Robb cried out in anguish. Picking up the abandoned scroll from the table, Arya held it out in a shaking hand in Jon’s and Robb’s direction.

Nothing was said among the family for the next several minutes, as they all grieved the loss of their patriarch and worried for the safety of Sansa and Bran. Finally running out of tears, Catelyn sat up and grabbed Jon by the shoulders. “Promise me. Promise me that you’ll avenge him.”

Without any hesitation, Jon nodded and said, “I promise you, Aunt Catelyn, on both the Old Gods and the New, I will avenge him.” In his head, he added, ‘or die trying.’

-o-0-o-

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Through the Eluvian
By J.C. Vascardi

-o-0-o-

Act I, Part II

-o-0-o-

Wolfswood, The North; 19 Hearthfire/Ninth Turn 298 A.C.

The next twenty-four hours saw a flurry of activity at Winterfell as several ravens were sent out to the halls of all the Northern lords, calling them to Winterfell. These weren’t the only ravens sent out, however, as others were also sent further afield, including some going as far south as the Crownlands and Dorne.

At the appropriate time, Jon and Robb headed back to the tree where they’d met Flemeth the previous day. The four direwolves accompanied them because there was no way that Catelyn would have let them leave without at least some protection. They had just dismounted from their horses when there was a loud, reptilian roar from the skies above. Seconds later, their horses reared and it took all of Jon’s and Robb’s strength to hold onto the reins and prevent them from bolting, as the ground shook as the large dragon landed a few feet away with a thud.

The dragon shifted back into Flemeth a moment later and she waved her hand in the general direction of the horses, who calmed down almost immediately. “Now, we can talk.”

Lady and Summer laid down near the tree, resting their heads on their front paws, but kept their eyes open and looking right at Flemeth. Ghost and Grey Wind, meanwhile, were practically one being with their respective humans they were sitting so close to Jon and Robb, also keeping an eye on the witch.

“So, everything you said about my father was true,” Robb said. “I didn’t want to believe it but I didn’t have much choice upon seeing how upset my mother was and reading the missive that raven brought myself.”

Flemeth nodded. “Now, I offered you help in claiming the Iron Throne.”

Jon and Robb nodded, as Jon said, “There must be a catch.”

Flemeth laughed. “There’s always a catch. Life is a catch, I suggest you catch it while you can.” After a moment, she added, “My offer is this: I will bring a group of very capable heroes over from Thedas who have each dealt with major events there and will be able to assist you, along with some of their friends and allies. In exchange, both of you agree to help me with an unknown task in the future. Something that will be well within your capabilities and shouldn’t cause any issues with your moral compasses. Or you can refuse my help, at which point I’ll leave and you’ll never see me again.”

“What kind of task?” Robb asked at almost the same time that Jon asked, “How exactly can these heroes help? There’s plenty of capable people in Westeros already.”

“The task will remain unknown beyond what I’ve already said,” Flemeth said. “It’s far enough into the future that I can’t be sure of the exact nature of the request. Only that I will need your assistance and that you won’t find it overly taxing, physically or morally.”

Pausing for a moment, she added, “As for the heroes, they’ve all done great things in Thedas and with their help, your path to the Iron Throne will be easier. In addition, among their allies is a master smith who knows the secret of Valyrian steel. It’s not called that in Thedas, but the substance is essentially the same. And when I say they know the secret, I don’t just mean how to work with it, but also how to create more of it.”

“So, you’re saying this smith can create brand new pieces of Valyrian steel?” Robb asked. “Not just melting down and reforging existing pieces?”

“Correct,” Flemeth confirmed. “It is a secret that has been lost to this side of the world since the Doom of Valyria and is one that neither you nor anyone else you know would be able to get your hands on otherwise. The secret may still exist somewhere deep in the ruins of Valyria, but as I’m sure you both know, nobody who has ever launched an expedition there has ever returned.”

“Do you know why that’s the case?” Jon asked.

“The ancient Valyrians were playing around with powerful magic,” Flemeth said. “I shouldn’t have to say this, but magic can be very dangerous in the hands of those who don’t understand what they’re doing and for the ancient Valyrians, sometimes they didn’t have a full understanding of the consequences of some of the magics they were using. Other times they did but simply didn’t care, viewing the benefits to be greater than the cost or potential risks. Eventually, that caught up with them, however, and caused the mass eruption of the volcanoes known as the Fourteen Flames, but it also ripped open the Veil.”

At the confused looks she added, “It’s a magical barrier which separates the physical world from the world of dreams. Alternately known as the Fade or the Beyond, it is the realm of spirits and demons, but also where your consciousness goes when you dream, in addition to passing through it on the way to the afterlife when you die. The veil holds the denizens of the Fade back and prevents them from entering the physical world, but when it gets torn open they have free access through the tears. So the legends of demons haunting Valyria are completely true.”

“So if demons have been exiting this Fade since the Doom,” Robb said, “why aren’t they all over the world by now?”

“Even being able to cross into this world,” Flemeth answered, “they can’t move far from the tears on their own. In order to venture more than about twenty or thirty feet away from these tears in the Veil, they’d need to manipulate someone into allowing them to possess them. And very few people actually go to the ruins of Valyria, as a general rule. The possible exception being the Stone Men, but their minds are often too far gone from their disease to make them attractive hosts to a demon.”

Smiling slightly, Flemeth then added, “On the bright side, one of the heroes I send has a magical mark on his left hand which can close the tears once and for all. Although the demons in the immediate vicinity have to be killed first. It’s not an easy task, but one that said hero is well versed in, as he’s sealed many such tears throughout southern Thedas over the last two years.”

After a long pause, during which he weighed the pros and cons of accepting Flemeth’s deal, Jon nodded and said, “I accept your terms and your help.”

“As do I,” Robb added, trusting Jon enough to agree with him.

Flemeth smiled. “Very well then, Jaeherys Targaryen, Robb Stark. I will return to Thedas and gather the heroes, their friends and allies. You remember how I said yesterday that the First Men arrived in Thedas via magical means?” Jon and Robb nodded. “It was through a series of magical mirrors called Eluvians, which were created by the Elves of Elvhenan several thousand years ago to serve as a vast communications and transportation network. Some of them have stopped functioning or otherwise been destroyed in the intervening years, but others still exist. The closest functioning one that still exists is in a tower in the Fortress of Bloodstone on the island of the same name in the Stepstones. That is where I will send the heroes. It’ll be up to you to retrieve them.”

Turning and walking away, Flemeth added over her shoulder, “By the time you manage to sail there, they’ll be there waiting for you. I’ll tell them to expect you.” A moment later she disappeared in a puff of black smoke.

-o-0-o-

Between Winterfell and White Harbor, The North; 19-25 Hearthfire/Ninth Turn 298 A.C.

Taking the direwolves and a quarter of the household guard, Jon and Robb set out for White Harbor only a couple of hours following their return to Winterfell after their second meeting with Flemeth. Since the Northern lords hadn’t been informed of Eddard’s death yet, it was actually Lady Catelyn’s signature on the missives the ravens had taken to the various Northern holds. Before he’d left, however, Eddard had ravens sent to the other holds to tell his lords that his wife was in charge of the North while he was down south, so none of them would question why Robb wasn’t there to greet them.

Catelyn did give Jon and Robb a letter from her that they could show any of the Northern lords they might run into on their way south that excused them from coming all the way up to Winterfell and placing them under Robb’s control. Meanwhile, those who did arrive at Winterfell would be told to gather their armies and head for White Harbor where the majority of the Northern fleet was stationed.

Centuries before Aegon’s Conquest, King Brandon the Shipwright was lost at sea after he’d undertaken a journey to cross the Sunset Sea. In his grief, his son, Brandon the Burner, had the northern fleet burned and for centuries the North had almost no strength at sea. Thankfully, however, after Eddard succeeded his father he ordered the construction of a new fleet and named Lord Wyman Manderly of White Harbor the Lord Admiral of the North.

While the majority of the new Northern fleet was stationed at White Harbor, as the North’s primary port, there were also sections of it stationed at Ramsgate, Widow’s Watch, Flint’s Finger and Bear Island. Eddard had purposely kept the fleet from ever appearing together in one place in order to make it appear smaller than it actually was and thus despite the North’s naval buildup of the last two decades or so, nobody considered the North’s fleet a true threat.

Jon and Robb did end up meeting Lord Manderly on the way south and showed him the letter. Upon meeting, they set up camp to rest for the evening before heading to White Harbor at first light. It was in Robb’s tent that Wyman was told of Eddard’s death and Robb’s ascension as Lord of Winterfell.

After re-affirming his fealty to House Stark and Robb, Wyman was told the long-held secret of Jon’s true paternity. Thus, at Robb’s direction, Wyman agreed to support Jon’s claim for the Iron Throne. Wyman, at least, was happy about the idea of a Stark sitting on the throne, even if it was a half-Targaryen Stark. The fact that Jon would be marrying Robb, meaning the King-Consort would also be a Stark made him even happier.

-o-0-o-

Aboard the Black Trident, Narrow Sea; 1 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

After sailing for nearly a week, Jon and Robb were in the cabin that they’d been given aboard the Black Trident—Lord Manderly’s personal flagship—because while they would prefer to be out on the deck, it was currently pouring rain. And seeing how they’d both soon be fighting in a war to claim the Iron Throne, neither of them could afford to get sick right now. Robb was sitting at the small desk in the corner of the room looking over the navigation charts, which the captain had provided him with copies of.

Jon, meanwhile, was reading a book about the Stepstones, figuring that if he was going there that he should learn more about them. Maester Luwin had never covered the islands in much detail in his lessons to the Stark children since the islands had never officially been part of the Seven Kingdoms, even if they were conquered and held by a member of House Targaryen for a time. Or at least, he was trying to read a book on them. In truth, he’d been staring at the same page for nearly half-an-hour now and had probably read the same sentence at least thirty times over.

As the ship rocked a bit, Robb was thankful that his father had ordered the Northern fleet rebuilt shortly after he’d become Lord Stark in 276 AC. As a result, Jon, Robb, and his siblings had all been on a ship before, several times in fact, and thus the rolling of the ship didn’t make either of them sick. Robb had to admit, he had felt just a bit queasy the first time he was ever on a ship, but that was over fifteen years ago, and he’d gotten used to it now.

Looking over at Jon, Robb saw the look on his face and asked, “You’re not feeling seasick are you, Jon?”

The sound of Robb’s voice broke Jon from whatever thoughts he was having and as he looked over at him, he asked, “Seasick? No, why do you ask?”

“You just had a strange look on your face, almost like you were about to be sick.” Shaking his head, Robb asked, “So, if it’s not seasickness, penny for your thoughts?”

Jon grinned. “Only a penny? Is that the going rate for a King’s thoughts?”

“You’re not technically the King yet, but fine, a dragon for your thoughts. Better?”

“Much,” Jon said, before he sighed heavily. “I was just worrying about Sansa and Bran. I don’t like the thought of them being in King’s Landing with your father’s murderer. I know Joffrey didn’t actually do the deed himself, but he did give the order, so I’d say that makes him guilty.”

Standing up, Robb walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed, before reaching up and messaging Jon’s left shoulder. “I know, I’m worried too. As much as I’d like to storm the Red Keep and take them, I know that at this point that’s far more likely to result in me ending up on the chopping block, with my head joining my father’s on the Traitor’s Walk.”

“That was such a gross miscarriage of justice. Uncle Eddard didn’t have a treasonous bone in his body… and I realize the irony in my saying that, considering that he was on Robert’s side during the rebellion that overthrew my grandfather as king. But, considering that Aerys had Grandfather Rickard burned to death while Uncle Brandon strangled himself trying to save him, I can understand why Uncle Eddard sided with Robert. Aerys was stark raving mad, so he needed to be overthrown for the good of the realm.”

Robb nodded. “I know, ideally your father would have been put on the throne, as from everything I’ve heard about him, he wasn’t mad like his father. But that was never going to happen, not after Aunt Lyanna spurned Robert’s affections by marrying your father. Not that many people are aware that they actually got married, which is why Robert was able to drum up support with the lie that he would have married Lyanna if it hadn’t been for your father kidnapping her.”

“Yes, a lie that would never have gotten very far had Rickard or Steffon Baratheon still been alive and been able to point out that the agreement to marry Lyanna to Robert was never actually finalized, because Lyanna was able to convince her father that she deserved better than a man who even back then already had more bastards than he had fingers and toes.”

Shaking his head, Jon said, “Well, I suppose there’s nothing we can do for now. We’re still a little over a week away from the Stepstones and there’s nothing we can do for Sansa and Bran until we have more support.” With a grin, he said, “So, how about we help each other keep our minds off of depressing topics?”

Robb grinned. “Did you have a specific way in mind for us to do that?”

“Oh, I’m sure I can think of something,” Jon said, before he leaned forward and tilted his head to one side, as Robb did the same, only in the opposite direction, and closed the distance between the two as their lips met in a kiss.

-o-0-o-

Port of Bloodstone, The Stepstones; 9 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

Just over a week later, the fleet of ten ships—less than a quarter of White Harbor’s full fleet—arrived at the port of the island of Bloodstone in the Stepstones, carrying Jon, Robb, Wyman, and their respective retinues. On the way down they’d noticed the distinct lack of pirate ships in the area, which was strange as the Stepstones were well known to be mostly controlled by pirates. Arriving in the port, however, they all did a double-take upon seeing thick vines and tree branches coiled around the masts of the pirate ships in port, preventing them from going anywhere.

“Well, I guess that explains the lack of pirates,” Robb commented as the captain of the Black Trident maneuvered the ship into a dock that was left empty.

As the ship came to a stop, the Bloodstone Harbormaster, accompanied by six of the local men from the village that serviced the port, stepped onto the dock. “Welcome to Bloodstone,” the harbormaster replied. “Flemeth sends her greetings.”

Once the ship was secured, the gangplank was brought out and Jon, Robb, the direwolves, and Ser Rodrik Cassel departed the ship. Wyman remained behind, in order to oversee the necessary reprovisioning of the Black Trident and the other ships in the Northern fleet. In addition to remaining watchful, in case of any potential sneak attacks, not that any were expected. But it was better to be safe than sorry.

-o-0-o-

To be continued…

Chapter Text

-o-0-o-

Act I, Part III

-o-0-o-

Bloodstone Fortress, Isle of Bloodstone, The Stepstones; 27 Hearthfire/Ninth Turn 298 A.C.

Just under a fortnight earlier, upon her return to Thedas, Flemeth made good on her end of the deal she’d made with Jon.

“Fuck!” muttered Warden-Commander Theron Mahariel, as he found himself flung through the Eluvian and only just managed to catch himself before hitting his nose against the cold stone floor of the tower room that housed it. He could feel his hands scraping against the uneven stone, however, which is why he felt the need to swear.

Theron had only just managed to roll over onto his back and was about to cast a healing spell on his scraped hands when his eyes widened upon seeing a tall black-haired human emerging from the mirror’s surface. Thankfully, the human noticed him lying there and managed to pivot his body so that he landed almost next to Theron… although the man’s left knee ended up between Theron’s legs and way too close to his crotch for comfort.

Before the human man could even think about moving, however, a silver-haired elf with faintly glowing tattoos was flung through the mirror backward and thus landed on top of Theron and part-way on top of the other man. Theron had managed to move his head out of the way at least, although he still got the air knocked out of him when the elf landed on top of him. He was clearly a warrior, based upon the armor and the two-handed greatsword sheathed on his back.

The black-haired human rolled away and stood up, holding out his hand to the silver-haired elf. Once he’d helped him to his feet, the man held out a hand to Theron, who gladly took the assistance to get back on his feet.

All three of them moved away from the Eluvian, at which point the man said, “I’m Garrett Hawke and this is Fenris. You are?”

“Theron Mahariel.”

Noticing the Grey Warden mage armor the elf was wearing, Garrett asked, “Theron Mahariel as in the Hero of Ferelden?”

Nodding, Theron said, “Yeah, that’s me.” Cocking his head to one side, he said, “Wait, Hawke? As in the Champion and Viscount of Kirkwall?”

“Yes, that’s me,” Garrett confirmed. “Although I haven’t actually set foot in Kirkwall for two years now, so I rather doubt I’m still the Viscount. Either way, Champion and Viscount or not, once the templars were driven to madness by red lyrium, I had little choice but to flee the city if I wanted to remain living.” With a smile to Fenris, he added, “And while I knew you would defend me to the death, even with my magic, your many talents, and the help of our friends, we wouldn’t have lasted long against all of Kirkwall’s templars. Hence the strategic retreat before they stormed the Viscount’s Keep with a veritable army.”

“I’ve always wondered why you sided with the templars,” Theron said. “From everything I’ve heard about the templars in Kirkwall, I’m surprised that you, as a mage, would agree to help them carry out the Rite of Annulment against the circle.”

“Anders’ actions at the Chantry didn’t leave me much choice,” Garrett answered. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t conflicted about the choice, even as I was making it. Prior to that point, I had done all I could to support Kirkwall’s mages, but by that point, far too many of them were using blood magic. Even First Enchanter Orsino abandoned his ethics in the end and used the same foul blood magic that had previously been used by a mage named Quentin to kill numerous innocents, including my mother. After that, any conflict I’d felt over the choice I’d made died a quick death.”

“Ah, you have my condolences,” Theron said, before shaking his head and muttering, “Felasil,” which Garrett and Fenris recognized as Elven for a fool.

“That’s not in reference to either of you,” Theron was quick to say when he realized that Garrett and Fenris not only heard the comment but understood it. “Anders was under my command for a time. In fact, I’m the one who invoked the Rite of Conscription to save him from being executed by an overzealous templar. Had I known that he would go on to blow up the Kirkwall Chantry and spark a continent-wide war between mages and templars I may have reconsidered doing so.”

“Well, I’m actually glad that you conscripted him,” Garrett said. “If you hadn’t, my brother Carver would have died in the Deep Roads, after contracting the Darkspawn taint. Anders, however, was able to lead us to a nearby patrol of Grey Wardens who saved his life by letting him go through the Joining and becoming a Warden himself.”

“At least he did something useful then,” Theron said, as he couldn’t help but think back to his own Joining, as he’d joined the Wardens for the same reason that Carver apparently had.

“He also ran a free clinic in Kirkwall’s Lowtown slums for several years,” Fenris said. “As much as I usually distrust mages, even I have to admit that he did help people… before he went insane.”

Seeing as how Theron himself was a mage, as was Garrett, Theron was about to ask why Fenris distrusted mages, but before he could open his mouth another person was flung through the mirror. He was saved from face-planting at the last second as Garrett and Fenris rushed forward and each grabbed one of his arms.

The new man was wearing Grey Warden armor and from the black hair and similar features, Theron guessed that this must be Carver Hawke. This was confirmed a moment later, when the man smiled and said, “Hello Garrett, Fenris. Thanks for the save.”

“You’re welcome, brother,” Garrett said. “For an old woman, Flemeth certainly can throw.”

“Well, she can turn into a dragon,” Carver said. “I guess strength is kind of a given.”

Next through the mirror was a dwarf with a rather unique-looking crossbow on his back that Carver, Garrett, and Fenris all greeted as Varric. He was followed by a black woman in form-fitting mage robes and a horned headdress that Varric introduced as Lady Vivienne de Fer.

As the next person came through the mirror, Theron grinned and said, “An'daran Atish'an, Leliana. It’s been awhile.”

“Theron!” Leliana exclaimed, clearly happy, as she came forward and gave her old friend a hug.

“You know him, Nightingale?”

“Yes, Varric, I should hope so,” Leliana said with a smile, as she ended her hug with Theron. “I was one of the so-called Blight Companions who aided Theron here during the Fifth Blight in Ferelden.”

Carver’s eyes widened as he asked, “Theron? So you mean you’re the Hero of Ferelden? The first Grey Warden in history to survive slaying an archdemon?”

“That’s me,” Theron confirmed, just as three more dwarves, two female and one male, were the next ones flung through the Eluvian’s surface. Theron identified the male as Voldrik Glavonak, while Varric greeted Bianca Davri, and Leliana greeted Dagna. Theron had thought the latter looked familiar, but before he could comment, a tall, blond haired man was flung through the mirror next.

“Inquisitor,” Leliana said.

“Hello Leliana,” greeted Inquisitor Maxwell Trevelyan.

Before anything else was said, however, a young boy walked calmly through the mirror, followed a moment later by his mother.

“Morrigan?” Theron asked, shocked.

“Hello, Theron,” Morrigan said.

Theron smiled. “Considering who sent us here, I’m surprised you just walked through that Eluvian so calmly. I would have expected you to be forced through kicking, screaming, and yelling obscenities at your mother.”

A hint of a smile appeared on Morrigan’s face, as she said, “What kind of example would I be setting for my son if I did that?” After a moment, she growled slightly under her breath and said, “Besides, I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I drank from Mythal’s Well of Sorrows and now Mother can order me to do things whether I want to or not.”

“What does Flemeth have to do with Mythal?” Theron asked, obviously confused.

“Quite a bit, Theron Mahariel,” Flemeth said, as she stepped through the Eluvian herself. “Once I was but a woman, crying out in the darkness for justice. And then she came to me, a wisp of an ancient being, who granted me all I wanted and more. I have carried Mythal through the ages ever since, seeking the justice that was denied to her. She is a part of me now, just as much as the hearts beating in all of your chests.”

“Who exactly is Mythal?” Carver asked.

“She’s one of the Creators,” Theron said. “The Elven Goddess of Love and patron motherhood and justice.” As he said this he dropped to one knee and bowed his head in respect to the goddess whose vallaslin he wore upon his face. “Ir abelas, Mythal,” as he realized that when he’d killed Flemeth for Morrigan during the Blight, he’d actually been killing his own patron goddess. He didn’t even want to imagine what his clan would think if they found out.

Flemeth’s eyes turned from their normal yellow to bright, glowing blue as Mythal herself spoke through her. The voice sounded younger and kinder, much more motherly than Flemeth’s normal voice. “Atish’an, da’len. You did not know I was inhabiting Flemeth’s body and as you can see, I’m still alive, do not worry so. I forgive you.” After a moment of quiet contemplation, she then added, “You are one of the People… and First of Clan Sabrae until you were tainted and had to become a Warden. They aided my vessel some years back, so, I am willing to grant you a boon in gratitude for that help.”

Reaching into a hidden pocket of Flemeth’s armor, Mythal pulled out a small glass vial. “Inside this vial is water from the Vir’Abelasan—the Well of Sorrows. As each of my faithful priesthood reached the end of their years, they passed on their knowledge through the Well. Drinking the contents of this vile will grant you all of their memories. Centuries of knowledge that have been lost to the People for generations beyond counting. Morrigan possesses the knowledge already, but as she is not one of the People, she doesn’t have quite the same connection to it that you would have, Theron, as it is not her heritage.”

Theron’s eyes widened at that as he contemplated having centuries of the forgotten lore of the Elvhenan… it was a dream come true for every Dalish Elf, seeking to restore that which they’d lost.

“Before you make up your mind, however,” Mythal said, as Flemeth held up her free hand. “A word of caution. Drinking from the Vir’Abelasan will mark you as one of my High Priests, just as Morrigan is now a High Priestess and you will be bound to my will, for all eternity. Choose carefully.”

“And what do you say about this, Morrigan?” Theron asked his old companion. “Do you believe that the knowledge is worth it?”

“I’ve had time to think since I drank from the Well,” Morrigan said. “At first, all I could think about was that I was bound to my mother’s service forever. But, in time I realized that it isn’t really as bad as I had believed it would be.” Turning to look at Flemeth, she said, “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to obeying her every command, but the knowledge I’ve gained is certainly worth it. It’s not like she appears to me daily with new commands… in fact, this is the first time since Corypheus was defeated over a month ago that I’ve even seen her.”

“I will not promise that I won’t ever call upon you, Theron, or upon Morrigan,” Mythal said. “But, I can say that the purpose I directed Flemeth to bring you to this side of the globe for is important. So, I will not interfere with your lives here, however long you remain.”

“I’ll do it,” Theron said after a moment more of thought.

“Very well,” Mythal said as she beckoned Theron forward and motioned for him to open his mouth and tilt his head back. Once he had, Mythal uncorked the vial and tipped it upside down and into Theron’s mouth. “Mir’enansal, ‘ma’da’isenatha.”

As the last drops of liquid fell into Theron’s mouth, he cried out in pain, as he dropped to his knees. He could vaguely hear his name being called, but it was drowned out by the voices whispering in his own head… the voices of centuries of deceased elves whispering to him, imparting their knowledge to him.

“Theron? Theron! Are you okay?” That was Leliana’s voice, Theron realized as he began to recover and realized that she was gently shaking his shoulder.

“I’m fine,” Theron said, as he placed a hand on his head and sat up, after a moment, he blinked his eyes and looked up into the concerned face of his old friend. He’d apparently been out of it longer than he realized, as he had no idea when he’d ended up on his back instead of his knees.

“Your eyes,” Leliana said.

“My eyes? What about them?” Theron asked, genuinely confused.

“They were green,” Leliana said. “Now, however, they’re golden yellow… the same color as Flemeth’s and Morrigan’s.”

“One of the guardians at Mythal’s temple in the Arbor Wilds had the same color eyes,” Vivienne recalled, as she thought back to when she’d accompanied Maxwell there. “His name was Abelas, I believe.”

Maxwell nodded. “Indeed, they were and it is.” Cocking his head to one side, he said, “I think they suit you rather well, Theron. They’re a nice contrast to your hair.”

“Before I allow Flemeth to retake control,” Mythal said, she turned and looked directly at Fenris. “Da’fen, you have been through much in your life and from what I can see you’ve come through it all the stronger for the trials you’ve faced. However, I believe you’ve earned a break… I know that your lyrium brands oftentimes cause you physical pain when they’re touched. If you will allow it, I would alter them so that won’t happen when your family and friends touch you... I could even make the sensation pleasurable for you in the case of reciprocated romantic love.”

Fenris’s first inclination was to refuse the offer. Despite being romantically involved with Garrett for a few years now, he still distrusted most mages. That would likely forever be a side effect of his growing up as a slave in Tevinter and witnessing the foul magic performed by his former master and his fellow magisters. Not to mention the fact that the brands that covered his skin in intricate patterns had been placed upon his flesh with magic in a ritual that he still remembered had been excruciatingly painful… so painful, in fact, that he’d forgotten everything he knew prior to the ritual.

Speaking of Garrett, however, Fenris looked over at him when he felt his lover’s hand touch his shoulder, which didn’t hurt since it was covered by his armor. Looking into Garrett’s eyes, Fenris considered how nice it would be to be able to make love to Garrett and then be able to hold him or be held by him… instead of having to leave immediately after sex in order to give his brands time to stop hurting before he could stand being touched again.

The thought of his beloved and how much he wanted to stay with him after they made love, knowing that even though Garrett understand the reason why it still hurt him when Fenris had to leave immediately afterward, outweighed even his distrust of magic.

“I accept your offer,” Fenris said, as he turned back to Mythal and braced himself for the feeling of magic being cast upon him.

“Relax, da’fen, this won’t hurt,” Mythal said as she raised her hands. Her hands and lower arms glowed bright blue for a moment before the light hit Fenris in the chest and made his whole body glow for a moment. When it was over, Mythal added, “As a bonus, I’ve also removed the painful sensation in the case of beneficial magic… healing and barrier spells, for example.”

“Thank you,” Fenris said, as Mythal nodded before the bright blue glow died and Flemeth regained control.

“Mother?” Morrigan asked. “I wasn’t aware that Mythal could take control of you like that.”

“She couldn’t previously,” Flemeth said. “However, we’ve both gotten stronger since I took Urthemiel’s soul from Kieran.”

“Urthemiel?” Theron asked as he looked at the young boy with Morrigan. “So then this is…”

“Yes, he is, Theron,” Morrigan interrupted. She was sure that Theron would have questions for her, but she would prefer they weren’t asked in front of the others, at least not yet. A fact which she successfully conveyed to Theron with just the look she gave him, as he nodded.

“Now, I brought you here in order to assist a man by the name of Jaeherys Targaryen,” Flemeth said. “He’s also known as Jon Snow. He’s the rightful heir to the Iron Throne of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros.”

“Westeros?” Garrett asked. “Is that were we are now?”

“Close enough,” Flemeth answered. “We’re on the island of Bloodstone, in the fortress of the same name. The island is the largest of an archipelago known as the Stepstones, which before being magically shattered into islands millennia ago formed a land bridge between the continents of Westeros and Essos.”

“And these two continents are on the same planet as Thedas?” Carver asked.

Flemeth nodded. “Denerim is just over three-thousand miles southeast of the Westerosi city of Oldtown, on opposite sides of the Amaranthine Ocean… called the Sunset Sea in this part of the world.”

After a moment, Flemeth said, “And before any of you ask, no, the Qunari didn’t come from Westeros or Essos, or any of the other continents that are part of the known world in this region. The Qunari originate from a continent called Kossas, which they’ve renamed Qunas, which is about two thousand miles west of Oldtown and less than a hundred miles northeast of the island of Par Vollen. The Qunari have never set foot in this part of the world and don’t even know it exists.”

“So what does this Jaeherys Targaryen require help with exactly?” Maxwell asked.

“Reclaiming the Iron Throne from the usurpers that have held it since the death of his grandfather,” Flemeth said. “I’ll let him fill you in on the details. He should be here in roughly two weeks, perhaps a bit less if the winds are favorable. He’s sailing from White Harbor, however, which is the port city of the northernmost of the Seven Kingdoms. We’re much closer to Dorne, right now, the southernmost kingdom. Westeros spans more than three thousand miles… more if one includes the area north of the Wall, known as the Land of Always Winter. That isn’t part of the Seven Kingdoms, however.”

“The Wall?” Varric asked.

“A massive barrier made of ice,” Flemeth answered. “It’s about three hundred miles long and seven hundred feet high and separates the northernmost border of the North from the Lands of Always Winter. As to specific reasons it was built, you’ll learn of that in time.”

Shaking her head, Flemeth added, “There are other reasons, beyond helping Jaeherys retake the throne. One involves a threat from the Land of Always Winter, although you have a few years before that’ll become an issue. Another lies to the southeast in Essos in what used to make up the main area of the Valyrian Freehold… the anchor will be useful there, Inquisitor. Although your first priority is to help Jaeherys secure the throne which he must do before winter.”

“And how many months away is that?” Leliana asked.

“More than you would think,” Flemeth said. “Seasons are on a much different span in this part of the world compared to Thedas. A single season can last years, instead of months. It’s currently summer and has been for the last nine years. By my estimation, you have just over three years before autumn, which will last another two to four years before winter comes.”

“Okay then,” Garrett said. “That gives us a little breathing room at least.”

“Indeed,” Flemeth said. “Your most immediate concern, however, is taking this fortress and island from the pirates that hold it. That shouldn’t be too hard for you, however. Magic is almost unknown in this part of the world, so that gives the mages among you a significant advantage against them. Before I go, however...”

Standing in front of Theron, Flemeth raised her hand and placed it just in front of his forehead. An off-white, almost pink light emanated from Flemeth’s hand at this, and Theron momentarily closed his eyes. When it stopped, Flemeth asked, “Do you understand, child?”

“Yes, I think I do,” Theron said.

Flemeth turned and headed back towards the Eluvian at this. She stopped just before reaching it however and turned to look over her shoulder. “Oh yes, one more thing before I leave.” Snapping her fingers, she said, “I’ve just granted you all the ability to understand, speak, read, and write in both the Common Tongue and High Valyrian. It should go without saying that they don’t speak the King’s Tongue, Elven, Tevene, or any other language spoken in Thedas in this part of the world, so it would be very hard for you to be of any help to Jaeherys if you can’t even communicate with him.”

Without another word, Flemeth stepped through the Eluvian and its surface turned stone-like making it clear that they weren’t leaving via the Eluvian anytime soon.

“What did Flemeth tell you?” Leliana asked.

“She didn’t tell me anything,” Theron said. “She was simply imparting a bit of knowledge to me… specifically, a shapeshifting form that I hadn’t previously learned.”

Eyes widening, Leliana asked, “You mean?”

Nodding, a smile on his face, as he looked at Morrigan who nodded, he said, “Indeed, it would seem we’ll have the help of two dragons in defeating the pirates.”

-o-0-o-

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Through the Eluvian
By J.C. Vascardi

-o-0-o-

Act I, Part IV

-o-0-o-

Bloodstone Fortress, Isle of Bloodstone, The Stepstones; 9 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

Entering the feasting hall of Bloodstone, Jon and Robb found four men waiting for them, all seated at the table at the far end of the hall.

“Jaeherys Targaryen?” asked one of the men, who Jon and Robb both noticed had a rather lithe frame with blond hair, brilliant golden eyes, pointed ears, and intricate green tattoos upon his face.

“That would be me,” Jon said. “You can call me Jon if you like.” Motioning to Robb he said, “This is my cousin and betrothed, Robb Stark.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Theron said. “My name is Theron Mahariel.” Pointing to the black-haired man sitting to his left, he said, “This is Garrett Hawke, although he prefers to be called Rhett or Hawke. Next to him is Fenris, and last is Maxwell Trevelyan, who prefers Max.”

“So you’re the heroes that Flemeth spoke of?” Robb asked.

“Yes,” Theron said. “Back home in Thedas we’ve each done things that many would consider impossible.”

“More so the other three than me,” Fenris said. “I just helped Rhett.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Fen,” Garrett said. “You succeeded in outrunning Denarius and his agents for years and freed many slaves in that time. And you killed him in the end. Killing a Tevinter magister is no small feat.”

“Perhaps, but it rather pales in comparison to killing an archdemon, a Qunari Arishok, and the leader of the Magisters Sidereal.”

“Um, who are they?” Jon asked, obviously having never heard of any of them.

“I imagine we’re all going to have to do some explaining of certain things,” Maxwell said. “Anyway, the Magisters Sidereal were a group of seven magisters of the ancient Tevinter Imperium, all of them the high priests of the Tevinter Old Gods. According to the Chantry—which is the majority religious sect in Thedas—the Magisters Sidereal combined their powers and used them to break into the Golden City in heaven, the seat of the Maker. This was known as the Second Sin—the first being the worship of the Old Gods over the Maker—and the Golden City was said to have turned black, corrupted by their sin.”

Picking up where Maxwell left off, Garrett continued, “The Maker is said to have been furious and cursed them all before casting them out of heaven as the first Darkspawn. Hideous monsters that carry a taint that poisons and kills people, animals, and the very land itself. They spend most of their time underground, however, searching for the Old Gods who the Maker is said to have imprisoned underground. Even the Old Gods themselves aren’t immune to the taint and whenever one of them is tainted they turn into an archdemon, who becomes the leader of the darkspawn and leads them in a massive attack against the surface called a Blight.”

“There have been five blights over the course of Thedosian history,” Theron said. “The first being in -395 Ancient, led by the Archdemon Dumat. That was the longest Blight in history, lasting nearly two centuries. The most recent one began in 9:30 Dragon, led by the Archdemon Urthemiel and lasted just over a year. I personally struck the killing blow against the archdemon and put an end to the Blight in 9:31 Dragon.”

“9:31 Dragon?” Robb asked. “It would seem we use different calendars.”

“Back in Thedas it is currently 9:42 Dragon,” Garrett said. “We use a system of ages. So we’re in the forty-second year of the ninth age, which was named the Dragon Age. Each age lasts for one hundred years, at which point the Divine, leader of the Chantry, names the next age in the final year of the current age. Years prior to the foundation of the Chantry and its calendar are represented in negative numbers and referred to as Ancient.”

“So the First Blight was 1,238 years ago,” Theron said. “Of course, my people don’t use the Chantry calendar, so by the Elvhen calendar it’s the year 8443 FA, which refers to the founding of Arlathan, which was the capital city of the first Elvhenan Empire.”

“Huh, interesting,” Jon said. “Here in Westeros, we use a similar calendar to the Elvhen one, in that we measure years against an event. In our case, Aegon’s Conquest. It’s currently 298 AC, making it 298 years since my very distant ancestor King Aegon I Targaryen conquered the Seven Kingdoms.”

“Surely the leader of these Magisters Sidereal must have been dead ages ago?” Robb asked. “I mean if that breaking into heaven bit you mentioned happened prior to this first blight?”

Shaking his head, Maxwell said, “Unfortunately, no. It’s unknown what happened to all of them, but at least two of them survived into the modern era. I defeated Corypheus, also known as the Conductor of the Choir of Silence and the High Priest of Dumat, a month ago.”

“The other that survived was known simply as The Architect,” Theron said. “I defeated him a few months after the Blight ended. It wasn’t until much later that I found out that he was the Architect of the Works of Beauty, High Priest of Urthemiel.”

“And this Arishok?” Jon asked. “Another ancient evil?”

“Not ancient, although there are many who would call him evil,” Garrett answered. “He was the military leader of the Qunari… a race of tall humanoids with grey skin and horns that follow a religion and philosophy known as the Qun. They believe that their way of life is the only proper way and thus believe themselves honor-bound to conquer all of Thedas and convert its people to the Qun. Anyway, the former Arishok murdered Viscount Marlowe Dumar of Kirkwall—the city’s leader—and tried to take over the city. I killed him in personal combat and was named the Champion of Kirkwall as a result.”

“I see,” Jon said. “I may not understand much of what you just said, but I’ll take your words for it. Flemeth certainly seems to think that you can help.”

“Oh, you’ve met her?” Maxwell asked.

Nodding, Robb said, “Yeah, we did and she made quite the impression.”

“She does tend to have that effect,” Garrett agreed.

“Well, I’ll gladly take your swords,” Jon said. “I’m going to need all the help I can get.”

“We’re not the only ones that Flemeth brought over,” Fenris said, “but of the four of us here, I’m the only one who can offer you a sword.”

At the confused looks from Jon and Robb, Theron smiled and said, “Max, Rhett, and I don’t fight with swords. Not unless you count the small dagger-like blade on the ends of our staffs.”

“Staffs?” Jon asked. “So a polearm then? That’s different.”

“Think of us more like ranged combatants,” Garrett said. “Only instead of arrows, we use magic.”

“Magic?” Robb asked, with a raised eyebrow. He honestly shouldn’t have been surprised. He’d met Flemeth, after all. And he was hard-pressed to find any other explanation for her ability to turn into a dragon.

“Perhaps a demonstration is in order,” Maxwell said, as he stood up. “We’ve got some training dummies set up out in the courtyard.”

-o-0-o-

Training Yard, Bloodstone Fortress Courtyard, Isle of Bloodstone, The Stepstones; 9 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

Jon and Robb nodded before they followed the four of them out of the feasting hall and over to the currently empty training yard in the courtyard. Taking the staff from his back, Maxwell said, “You should stand back.”

Once everyone was at a safe distance, he turned to face one of the dummies and twirling his staff around in his hands, he sent small bolts of fire flying across the training area at the dummy, before sending a larger ball of fire flying at it. Turning towards his audience he could see that Jon and Robb were looking particularly stunned. With a grin, Maxwell conjured a wall of fire in the empty space between him and the others.

It took a few moments before Jon or Robb could find their voices. They’d never seen such a display. Yes, they’d heard of some of the Red Witches from Asshai who could conjure fire, but simply hearing about something secondhand and actually seeing it was very different.

Even as the wall of fire began to die down, Jon could still feel the heat emanating from it, as he said, “Wow. That was amazing. So, you can all do that?”

“We each specialize in a different element,” Garrett said, as he stepped forward and Maxwell moved to where Garrett had been standing a moment earlier. Twirling his own staff in his hands, Garrett sent small balls of lightning crackling across the training field, before he made a large bolt of lightning hit the dummy. To finish off his display, he enclosed the dummy in a visible cage of lightning.

Turning back to the others, Garrett said, “Obviously the dummy isn’t going anywhere, but if there was a person inside that cage, they’d be stunned if they tried to leave it.”

“That’s kind of scary,” Robb said. “Awesome but scary.” Turning to Theron he asked, “And what do you specialize in then?”

“Earth magic,” Theron said, as he switched places with Garrett before he sent a stream of small pebbles flying at the dummy, followed by a large rock shaped like a fist, and finishing off with a spell that made vines erupt from the ground and wrap around the dummy.

“Well, that explains the vines that are wrapped around the masts of the ships in the harbor,” Jon said. “I’d wondered how that happened, but I guess I know now.”

Nodding, Theron said, “Yeah that was my handiwork. When we arrived we cleared the castle of pirates and then took their ships. Figured we’d secure them so that they can be turned to more legitimate uses than piracy.”

“So if you’ve got the people to crew them,” Maxwell added, “you’re welcome to add them to your fleet. I suppose the pirates might not like that much, but seeing as how they probably stole the ships themselves, I don’t think they really have any room to object if somebody else steals the ships from them.”

“True,” Robb agreed. “Complaining about the theft of something that you stole yourself only reveals you to be a hypocrite.”

“Well, they can be the beginning of my new fleet,” Jon said. “A fresh coat of paint and some black sails with the Targaryen sigil and we’ll have the start of a new royal fleet.”

“So are you the only mages among your group?” Robb asked. “And exactly how many did Flemeth send?”

“She sent twelve in all,” Garrett said. “Well, thirteen if you count her grandson, but he’s only eleven years old. He only came because his mother is one of the people that Flemeth sent. As for mages, there are two others in the group. Morrigan and Vivienne. I suppose Morrigan’s son Kieran is also a mage, but he’s still learning the basics of magic and hasn’t specialized in anything yet.”

“Vivienne specializes in frost magic,” Theron added. “While Morrigan specializes in both frost and entropy, which is a branch of magic that curses and weakens her opponents. All five of us are also trained in healing and defensive magic and to varying levels more general-purpose magics, as well.”

“There’s also Varric and Leliana,” Maxwell added. “They’re both ranged combatants. Varric with a crossbow and Leliana with a longbow, although she’s also trained in close combat dual-wielding daggers if necessary. They both can pick locks and scout from stealth and are both quite adept at gathering information. Leliana was my spymistress back in Thedas.”

“And Varric was mine for a time,” Garrett added. “Although I suppose neither of them has the same connections here that they did back home. But they’re both resourceful, so I imagine they’ll be able to make up for it, given enough time.”

“You’ve already met Fenris,” Theron said. “And I’m sure you can guess his specialty from the two-handed greatsword strapped to his back. Garrett’s younger brother Carver is also with us. He’s a warrior, specializes in the use of a sword and shield.”

“In addition to my sword,” Fenris added, “I can also phase myself, meaning I can pass through solid objects or even people and if a situation calls for it, reach into a person’s chest and crush their heart.”

At Jon’s and Robb’s shocked looks, Fenris shrugged and said, “Figured it was best to be upfront about that. As for how I can do that, it’s because of my brands. I was a slave for a time and the magister who owned me cut channels all over my body and filled them with raw lyrium.”

“What’s lyrium?” Jon asked.

“It’s a mineral that’s found underground in Thedas,” Theron said. “Honestly, I’m not sure if it can be found here or not, but I’d assume it can be. It’s used in numerous ways back home. Including as a power source for magic if one wants to cast a spell that requires more power than they possess and it’s also used in enchanting.”

“Enchanting is the art of adding magical effects to mundane items,” Garrett said when he noticed Jon’s and Robb’s furrowed brows. “Such as weapons and armor. One example would be enchanting a sword to do an extra amount of elemental damage to anyone it’s used against.”

Closing his eyes as the voices of the long-dead elves began whispering in his head, Theron added, “It’s also the secret ingredient in the construction of Valyrian steel. Any weapon, made of any metal, not just steel, can be given the properties of Valyrian steel if lyrium is folded into it during the forging process.”

“Without lyrium, you’ll never be able to forge new Valyrian steel weapons,” a feminine voice said, as Morrigan stepped out into the courtyard. “Existing weapons can be reforged and there’s enough trace lyrium in them that they can still be called Valyrian steel. Although even that has diminishing returns. Melt it down and reforge a sword enough times and it will eventually lose its potency. I’m Morrigan, by the way.”

After Jon and Robb introduced themselves, Morrigan nodded. “So, you’re the ones that Mother wants us to help.” Looking them up and down, she added, “Easy on the eyes. It’s too bad you’re both spoken for.”

“I take it the father of your son isn’t in the picture?” Robb asked.

Nodding, Morrigan said, “Indeed. Kieran was the product of a one-night stand. One I would have had with Theron if he’d agreed. Instead, he had me do it with Alistair, even though he knows we hate each other.”

“No matter how scantily you may have dressed back then,” Theron said, “the female body does nothing for me, Morrigan. So, Alistair was simply the better choice, even if you do hate each other.”

“Why would you sleep with somebody that you hate?” Jon asked.

“Because Theron and Alistair were the only two Grey Wardens in Ferelden during the Blight,” Morrigan said. At Jon’s and Robb’s confused looks, she added, “Grey Wardens fight the Blight. They've purposely tainted themselves with the Darkspawn taint which results in them being able to sense when there’s darkspawn nearby and sometimes to even hear the thoughts of the archdemon in their dreams. They’re also the only ones who can kill an archdemon because if anyone else tries to do it, the archdemon’s soul can just jump into another darkspawn’s body and be reborn.”

Seeing the nervous looks that Jon and Robb began shooting at Theron at this, considering what they’d learned about darkspawn, Theron said, “You needn’t worry. While it’s true that I carry the darkspawn taint in my blood, the magical nature of the ritual used to become a Grey Warden also renders us incapable of spreading the taint the way that the darkspawn do.”

“The archdemon’s ability to jump from one body to another is why the First Blight lasted for nearly two centuries,” Garrett added. “Dumat was slain several times, but he was reborn again and again. It wasn’t until the Grey Wardens were formed that there was any hope of the Blight ending. The name of the warden who slew Dumat has been lost to time, but when it’s a warden that strikes the killing blow, the archdemon’s soul goes into the warden instead of a nearby darkspawn. That usually results in both the warden and the archdemon dying because while the darkspawn are soulless creatures, the wardens are not and generally speaking a body is not intended to hold more than one soul at a time.”

“I performed a magical ritual, however,” Morrigan said. She and Theron had discussed the issue in the fortnight it took for Jon and the others to arrive, and had decided to be honest about what had transpired. “Which would ensure that the warden I slept with would impregnate me and that Urthemiel’s soul would be drawn into the baby instead. So, Theron was able to survive killing Urthemiel, whose soul was purified of the taint and inhabited Kieran’s body for a time, with no major ill effect to him. My mother has since taken it from him, so now Kieran is just a normal little boy.”

“Well, normal beyond the fact that he’s the firstborn son of the current King of Ferelden,” Theron said with a grin. As an aside to Jon and Robb, he added, “Ferelden is one of the many kingdoms in Thedas. Alistair is the bastard son of the late King Maric and was the last of the Theirin royal line that has ruled Ferelden for centuries. Since Maric’s legitimate son and successor, King Cailan, died childless in one of the first battles of the Blight, I helped put Alistair on the throne.”

Morrigan nodded. “True, but as Alistair and I weren’t married, it’ll be Prince Calen, his son with his wife, Queen Anora, who succeeds him on the throne. A Grey Warden and former Templar on the throne is one thing. But do you really think the nobles of Ferelden would accept Kieran? A mage? I can already hear the fools in the Chantry losing their collective minds and start spouting one of their favorite lines of the Chant of Light: ‘Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.’”

After a moment, she threw her head back and laughed, before she said, “I can only imagine how they’d react if they found out that Alistair’s mother was not some serving girl at Redcliffe Castle but is, in fact, Grand Enchanter Fiona… not only a mage but an elf. That’d be even worse than having magic in some of their minds.”

“Fiona is Alistair’s mother?” Maxwell asked, clearly surprised by that. “So that’s why she was asking about him when we talked at Skyhold. It seemed very out of the blue.”

Nodding, Theron said, “Alistair doesn’t even know. Fiona made Maric promise that Alistair would never know the truth. So he thinks both of his parents are dead.”

“Why would the nobility have a problem with him having an elven mother?” Robb asked.

“Elves are viewed as second or even third-class citizens by most humans,” Theron said. “Often enslaved and forced to live in slums called alienages within the walls of human cities. My people once ruled all of Thedas until humans showed up in the form of the First Men. Some of us do live free from human rule out in the wilds, but they don’t like that we refuse to worship their Maker and that we like to keep to ourselves as much as possible.”

“Ah, religious differences can cause issues,” Jon said. “I’ll probably run into that issue eventually myself. Raised in the North, I worship the Old Gods of the Forest, who were worshipped by the Children of the Forest and the First Men. In southern Westeros, however, the Faith of the Seven is the dominant religion. They believe in only one god with seven different aspects.”

“Well, it would seem then that you have something in common with Theron,” Morrigan said. “As your Old Gods of the Forest are known as the Evanuris in Thedas… they are, however, the same gods.”

“They are?” Theron and Robb asked at almost the same time.

Nodding, Morrigan said, “I’ve studied ancient lore that you’ve never seen, Theron. And I’ve also had more time to absorb the knowledge granted to me by drinking from the Well of Sorrows, so I’m not surprised you’re not aware of this. The ancient Elvhenan colonized Westeros some 2,000 years prior to the arrival of the First Men from Essos. However, when war broke out between different factions in Thedas and the Eluvian network was shut down, resulting in the Elvhenan here in Westeros losing all contact with the capital in Thedas. Over time they developed their own distinct culture and that’s when they became the Children of the Forest.”

Looking at Robb, Morrigan said, “That difference in culture led to a change in how the gods were worshipped. In Thedas, temples were built in honor of the gods, but here in Westeros, sacred forests were preferred, utilizing the weirwood trees as their centerpiece, which had the faces of the gods carved into them. By this point they were also being called the Gods of the Forest instead of the Evanuris, becoming the Old Gods when the majority of Westeros converted to the Faith of the Seven. While the method of worship and the names changed, who was being worshipped did not, even if the individual gods’ names had also been lost by that point.”

Everyone was silent for a time, as they digested what Morrigan had just said. After a few minutes, Garrett said, “Well, why don’t we head back inside? We can summon everyone else and introduce you.”

-o-0-o-

Bloodstone Fortress, Isle of Bloodstone, The Stepstones; 9 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

Not long after the group had re-entered Bloodstone’s main hall, a runner from the village entered the room and asked, “Excuse me, Your Grace?”

“Yes?” Jon asked.

“Message from the Harbormaster, sir,” the runner said, as he handled a small scroll to Jon.

“Thank you,” Jon said, giving the runner a dismissive wave, the runner nodded and left, before Jon opened the scroll and read the short missive.

“What does it say?” Robb asked, after a moment.

“That a ship from House Velaryon has just arrived in the port,” Jon replied. “Carrying some special guests and cargo that require both my and your immediate attention, Robb.”

Robb raised an eyebrow, as he wasn’t sure what this was about, but nodded, as Theron said, “We’ll just head up to the lord’s solar and wait for you. We can introduce you to the others when you’re ready.”

“That works, thank you,” Jon said, as he and Robb left the hall and headed down to the port with Ghost and Grey Wind following close behind them.

-o-0-o-

Port of Bloodstone, The Stepstones; 9 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

Arriving back at the port, Jon and Robb found fourteen-year-old Jacaerys Velaryon—the second-born son of Lord Monford Velaryon—waiting for them, along with three robed figures, their faces concealed by hoods.

Seeing Jon and Robb, Jacaerys—known as Jace to his friends, just like his distant ancestor Prince Jacaerys Velaryon—dropped down to one knee in front of Jon, bowed his head and said, “Your Grace, on behalf of my father, Lord Monford Velaryon of Driftmark, I pledge the fealty and loyalty of House Velaryon to you and your legal heirs.”

“I accept,” Jon said before he smiled at the boy and said, “You may stand, Jace.”

Despite being six years older than the young Velaryon, Jon did consider him to be a friend, as Eddard had made sure that Jon cultivated relationships with the Targaryen loyalist lords and their children. Lord Monford had promised to support Jon if he decided to pursue the Iron Throne but had never officially sworn fealty to him, as it was agreed that such an action shouldn’t be done unless and until Jon actually chose to press his claim.

Now, that he had done so, Lord Monford sent his son to the Stepstones on his behalf, while he and his elder son, Monterys, prepared Driftmark for war… knowing that they’d very likely be seeing action sooner rather than later, as Stannis Baratheon was not likely to be pleased with House Velaryon’s decision not to answer his call when he rallied his banners, as House Velaryon traditionally owed allegiance to the Lord of Dragonstone.

As Jacaerys stood back up, he said, “I believe you were expecting the men behind me, Your Grace. And they bring a gift for Lord Stark.”

Jacaerys stepped off to the side at this, as the three hooded men stepped forward before they each dropped down onto one knee and bowed their heads to Jon. After a moment, the middle of the three men raised his hands and grabbed the edges of his hood, pulling it back as he lifted his head.

“Ser Gerold Hightower, reporting for duty, Your Grace,” said the gray-haired knight known as the White Bull. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to serve you, but my sword is yours so long as I can wield it.”

“You’ve served my family well over the years, Ser Gerold,” Jon said. “And I appreciate whatever help you can provide for however long you can provide it.”

Left unsaid was the fact that they both knew that Ser Gerold’s fighting days were not likely to last too much longer, considering that he’d recently celebrated his eighty-third name day. Old age came for everyone eventually, no matter how healthy and fit one was. Still, even if he couldn’t fight on the front lines, he could still help train the next generation of the Kingsguard, and share his lifetime of experience in strategy and tactics.

“Reporting for duty as ordered, Your Grace,” said the man to Ser Gerold’s left as he too pulled off his hood as he lifted his head, to reveal Ser Arthur Dayne, otherwise known as the Sword of the Morning.

“Your Grace, you have my allegiance and my sword,” the other man said, as he removed his hood and lifted his head, revealing himself as Ser Oswell Whent.

“I’m grateful for your swords and allegiance, Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell,” Jon said. “I’m also glad that the three of you agreed to go into hiding these last twenty years so that you could return and serve me now. My Kingsguard and forces are strengthened by your examples.”

“We were prepared to die at the Tower of Joy,” Arthur said, as the three men rose. “Until Ned Stark and Princess Lyanna convinced us that it would be better to live and fight another day.”

“Being in hiding these last twenty years also put me in a position to be able to present you with a gift, Lord Stark,” Gerold said, as he reached behind his back and pulled out a bundle which had been hidden between his back and his cloak.

Holding it out, Jon and Robb shared a look at the shape of the bundle, before Robb stepped forward and untied the rope that held it shut, before pulling the cloth aside. He gasped when he saw what it was.

“Ice,” Robb said, as he was met with the sight of the two-handed Valyrian steel greatsword of House Stark, which Robb had figured he’d never see again when he found out that his father had been arrested and executed for treason.

“Ser Barristan sends his regards, Your Grace,” Arthur said to Jon, before turning to Robb and adding, “He regrets his inability to get your father’s head, but there was no way that he could do so without blowing his cover.”

“Even managing to steal Ice from Ser Ilyn Payne’s quarters was taking a big risk,” Oswell added. “But, it was one he gladly took when he heard that Joffrey had given the blade to him for the sole purpose of using it to behead your father. Ser Barristan believed that wasn’t right and managed to smuggle it out of the keep to Ser Gerold the night before the execution.”

“You have my thanks for bringing it to me, Ser Gerold,” Robb said as he picked up Ice, shuddering at the thought of the blade that had been in House Stark for centuries now being used to execute the Lord of House Stark.

“I don’t imagine Joffrey is pleased,” Gerold said. “Barristan told me that while he gave Ice to his King’s Justice to carry out your father’s execution, he never had any intention of allowing Ilyn to keep it, having already sent a raven to Qohor to obtain the services of one of their smiths to reforge it into a smaller sword for himself.”

“I take it Ice is too much sword for him,” Jon said.

“Of that, there can be no doubt,” Oswell said. “Honestly, even having celebrated nineteen name days, I doubt he’s had more than a few hours of combat training in his life.”

“He also doesn’t have much muscle mass to speak of,” Arthur said. “I sincerely doubt he could even lift Ice, let alone swing it without landing himself on his arse.”

“Pampered southron that he is, I wouldn’t be surprised,” Robb said. “No offense meant to present company,” he added after a moment when he remembered that he was talking to three men who’d been born and raised in the southern kingdoms.

“None taken, Lord Stark,” Gerold said.

“Well, let’s head inside,” Jon said. “I can introduce you to my new allies.”

-o-0-o-

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Through the Eluvian
By J.C. Vascardi

-o-0-o-

Act I, Part V

-o-0-o-

Lord’s Solar, Bloodstone Fortress, Isle of Bloodstone, The Stepstones; 9 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

Roughly an hour later, after introductions were made, Jon, Robb, Theron, Garrett, Fenris, and Maxwell were seated in what would be the lord’s solar if there was a current lord of Bloodstone. With Jon safe inside the castle with plenty of people to watch over him, all three members of the Kingsguard were getting some much-needed rest, as they were all exhausted from their respective journeys to the Stepstones. Also present were Leliana and Vivienne, who had been sorting through the contents of the vaults of Bloodstone.

“There’s quite a bit of gold stored in the vaults,” Leliana said. “Some of it quite old I’m guessing. The current holder of the Iron Throne is Joffrey I Baratheon, correct?”

“Yes, he inherited the throne from his father Robert I Baratheon, who usurped the throne from my grandfather, Aerys II Targaryen,” Jon said. With a sigh, he added, “I never knew Aerys, but from what I’ve heard, Robert’s usurpation was probably a mercy for the people, as my grandfather was a raving madman.”

Nodding, Leliana said, “There is coinage for Joffrey, although in far smaller quantities than for Robert and Aerys. There’s also coinage for four other Targaryen kings: Jaeherys II, Aegon V, Maekar I, and Aerys I.”

“Jaeherys II is my great-grandfather,” Jon said. “Aegon V was his father and the son of Maekar I who became king when his brother Aerys I died without issue.”

“There are also several coins from what I assume to be Essos,” Vivienne said. “I can’t say I’ve ever seen a square coin made of iron anywhere in Thedas.”

“Those are issued by the Iron Bank of Braavos,” Robb said. “It’s one of the Free Cities, most of which are located on the western coast of mainland Essos or offshore islands. All of them, with the exception of Braavos, are former colonies of the Valyrian Freehold, which ceased to be after the Doom of Valyria about a century before Aegon I conquered Westeros.”

“That sounds ominous,” Garrett commented. “What exactly was this Doom?”

“A series of earthquakes accompanying the simultaneous eruptions of the Fourteen Flames,” Jon answered. “Obviously fourteen volcanoes all erupting at once is not conducive to a civilization’s continued existence.”

“Didn’t Flemeth say that magic was to blame for the eruptions?” Robb asked.

“Yes, she said the ancient Valyrians were playing around with magic they didn’t understand,” Jon said. “And caused the eruptions in addition to ripping open the Veil. Of course, all the Valyrian mines under the volcanoes probably didn’t help matters.”

“Flemeth said something about that to us as well,” Maxwell said. “I can close the tears in the Veil, but that’s an issue for later. She said that we need to concentrate on getting Westeros under your control first.”

Jon nodded. “So anything else interesting in the vaults?”

“There are quite a few bolts of fine linen and silk,” Vivienne said. “And enough jewels to buy a small country.”

“There were also swords and crowns,” Leliana added. “The swords had names engraved upon them.”

Perking up at that, Jon shared a look with Robb, before he asked, “Do you happen to remember any of the names on the swords?”

“I wrote them down,” Leliana said, as she shuffled through a few papers. “Since all of them had names engraved on them I figured it must be significant somehow.”

Robb nodded. “Yes, if they’re Valyrian steel blades, then no two swords have the same name.”

“Before I knew what the names engraved upon them were,” Vivienne said, “I had postulated that perhaps they were simply the names of the smith who forged them. Once Leliana told me some of the names, however, I’ll admit that theory no longer made any sense as I can’t imagine any smith named Vigilance or Orphan-Maker.”

“Vigilance?” Robb asked. “That’s the ancestral sword of House Hightower. It was lost during the Dance of Dragons, a civil war fought between multiple Targaryen claimants to the throne over a hundred years ago.” As an aside to Jon, he said, “I’m sure Ser Gerold would love to have it back, as would his nephew.”

“True,” Jon agreed. “I’ll give Vigilance to Ser Gerold when he wakes. As for Orphan-Maker, if I recall correctly, that’s the ancestral blade of House Roxton. Both House Hightower and House Roxton are Reach houses and loyal to House Tyrell. I guess time will tell what side of this war they’ll come down on.”

“Well, there were five other swords,” Leliana revealed. “Truth, Lamentation, Brightroar, Blackfyre, and Dark Sister.”

Both Jon’s and Robb’s eyes widened at the last three that Leliana named. Prompting Theron to ask, “I take it you recognize those names?”

“Yes, I definitely recognize the names,” Jon said. “Blackfyre and Dark Sister are the ancestral blades of House Targaryen. Both swords were lost many years ago though. Blackfyre after King Aegon IV gave it to his bastard son Daemon who in turn founded House Blackfyre and rose up in rebellion against the Targaryens.”

After a pause to take a sip of his drink, Jon added, “Dark Sister was last known to be in the possession of another of Aegon IV’s bastards, Brynden Rivers, who was sent to the Wall to join the Night’s Watch. There was some debate on whether he’d been allowed to take the sword with him to the Wall, as he was never reported to have used it while there, but it wasn’t found in King’s Landing when Robert took the crown. Which is probably a good thing as Robert would probably have had it reforged into a new weapon for himself.”

“And Brightroar is the ancestral sword of House Lannister,” Robb said. “Lost over four hundred years ago, shortly after the Doom. As Tommen II Lannister of the Kingdom of the Rock—now called the Westerlands—carried it with him when he decided to sail to the ruins of Valyria in order to plunder them of whatever treasure and magical knowledge he could find. He and his fleet never returned though.” Looking over at Jon, he grinned and said, “Tywin would pay through the nose to have it back.”

“I’m sure he would,” Jon said. “Not that I have any intention of giving it back to him, for any price. I think entering King’s Landing under a banner of friendship and then proceeding to sack the city is enough of a reason to say he forfeit his right to it. Robert never did make him pay for that, despite the fact that Tywin’s men killed, beat or raped many of the smallfolk amidst their pillaging.”

“True enough,” Robb said. “And that’s not even considering that his son Jaime literally stabbed your grandfather in the back, despite being one of his sworn Kingsguard. Of course, then there’s are the rumors that Joffrey is actually Jaime’s son instead of Robert’s. In short, the Lannisters are one fucked up bunch.”

Noticing the confused looks on some of their new friends’ faces, Jon said, “Jaime Lannister is the twin brother of Robert’s widow, Queen Cersei. So if the rumors are true, then Joffrey is not only a bastard with no valid claim to the throne but also an incestuous bastard. So, I think Robb’s summation of the family works pretty well in most cases.”

After a moment of thought, however, Jon said, “Although I suppose as a Targaryen, I probably shouldn’t be bad-mouthing incest, since I guess I owe my very existence to it. Generations of Targaryens have had incestuous relationships in order to keep their bloodline pure and to try and hang onto the classical Valyrian features of blond hair and purple eyes. My grandparents, King Aerys II and Queen Rhaella, were married despite being brother and sister. My father Rhaegar had two wives but neither of them were Targaryens: Elia Martell and Lyanna Stark, the latter being my mother.”

Vivienne nodded. “It does seem to be common among many royal families. Perhaps not as close as brother marrying sister, but cousin marriages are quite common. Ultimately unnecessary, however, if one’s only reason for doing so is to maintain a certain aesthetic as there are magical means of changing one’s hair and eye color. Although I suppose if you don’t have access to a mage capable of performing the spell then one must resort to baser methods.”

“There are?” Robb asked. “So you mean if he wanted it Jon could have blond hair and purple eyes?”

“Yes, my dear, he could,” Vivienne said. “I do know the spells. As does every mage in Orlais, as they can be quite useful while playing the Grand Game. Although, there are few mages who are as accomplished at it as I am.”

“Grand Game?” Jon asked.

“It’s the name given to the political and social machinations of the imperial court of the Empire of Orlais,” Leliana answered. “The purpose being one-upmanship of one’s rivals and advancing yourself and your family to a higher status. The only real rule is that any method you can think of, including murder, is perfectly acceptable as long as the player isn’t caught or their involvement uncovered.”

“Ah, okay,” Robb said. “That’s called the Game of Thrones here in Westeros.”

This sparked a few minutes of conversation as Jon and Robb compared notes with Leliana and Vivienne. Neither Jon nor Robb considered themselves to be expert players of the Game of Thrones, although Maester Luwin had trained them in some aspects of it… if only so that they’d be able to recognize and protect themselves from some of the more common moves.

As the conversation turned to the elaborate masquerade balls frequently held in Orlais to which both one's friends and rivals were invited, a key difference between the two did emerge. In Orlais, many players of the game employed bards. Traveling musicians who were trained as agents of their patron’s will. Spying, larceny, bribery, seduction, and assassination were all methods that bards might employ behind closed doors, while in the open appearing to be nothing more than a skilled singer, musician, or actor.

“Well, some of that could be problematic here in Westeros,” Jon said. “We have an ancient and sacred law of hospitality here known as guest right. A lord can make it clear they’re not offering it by placing an unsheathed sword across their knees, but otherwise, by consuming the offered food and drinks, a pact is created between host and guest that neither can be physically harmed during their stay and the guests are viewed to be under the lord’s protection. Should anything happen to a lord’s guests while under their protection or if the lord breaks guest right themselves, it would be seen as breaking a sacred covenant that will invoke the wrath of the gods, both old and new.”

Nodding, Robb added, “And if you’re known to have broken guest right, almost everybody will treat you as a pariah who can’t be trusted.”

“Well, in that case, assassination would be out as a viable option,” Vivienne said. “Although, I’d say the others would still work, as none of them would result in physical harm to either host or guest.”

“True,” Jon said. “While I consider myself an honorable man and would prefer to build a kingdom that adheres to that principle, I’m not stupid enough to believe that there aren’t people who may act honorably to my face while secretly plotting to stab me in the back.”

Shaking his head, Jon said, “Anyway, you mentioned that there were also crowns in the vault?”

“Yes,” Leliana confirmed. “There were three of them. One was a simple gold band set with seven different gemstones, while another was a slimmer, more feminine version of that one. The third is a circlet of Valyrian steel with large square-cut rubies.”

“Could I see them?” Jon asked.

Leliana nodded and left the room, returning a few moments later with three oak boxes in her hands. Carver entered the room behind her, carrying the two Targaryen swords. With a smile, Leliana said, “Since you said that they were the Targaryen swords, I figured you’d like to see them.”

After Carver placed the two swords on the table in front of Jon, he left as he was helping Varric and Bianca set up the latter’s workshop. Picking up Blackfyre, Jon held it up and just looked at it for a moment before stepping over to an empty area of the room and taking a few practice swings through the air. Satisfied, he removed the sword he’d been using from his sword belt and replaced it with Blackfyre. The sword he’d been using, while good, was still just common steel and couldn’t hold a candle to a true Valyrian steel blade.

Looking down at Dark Sister, Jon said, “Not sure who I’ll let use Dark Sister. I’d let you use it, Robb, since we are going to be married, but you’ve already got Ice so you don’t really need it.”

“True,” Robb said. “I prefer the greatsword anyway, as it is what I’ve trained with all my life. Besides, now that I’m Lord Stark, using any sword other than Ice would be seen as wrong in the eyes of many of my bannermen. It would be one thing if it was lost, but it isn’t.”

As he sat back down at the table, Leliana set the boxes she was carrying on the table and opened the top one, revealing a thin golden circlet with seven different colored gemstones. It did have a much more feminine appearance and upon seeing it, Jon was pretty sure he recognized it.

“I think this is Queen Rhaella’s crown,” Jon said, as he looked at it. “It looks like the crown she was wearing in the final portrait she sat for before her death. It was part of a matched set made for King Jaeherys I Targaryen and his sister-wife Queen Alysanne. It was then passed down through the family until it was used by Queen Rhaella. Last I heard, her two surviving children—my father’s younger brother and sister—took it with them when they fled Westeros for the Free Cities when it became clear that Robert was going to win the war.”

Opening the second box, Jon’s theory about the first crown seemed all the more likely, as the second crown was identical to the first one, only with a thicker more masculine band of gold. “This is definitely King Jaeherys I’s crown. He was originally crowned with the crown his father, King Aenys I, had worn, but he had this set made later on in his reign. So these are both old Targaryen family heirlooms, as Jaeherys I was the fourth holder of the Iron Throne, after his father, uncle, and grandfather. The latter being Aegon the Conqueror.”

“That means these crowns are over two-hundred years old,” Robb said. “So definitely good that they’ve returned to Targaryen hands.”

Jon nodded, as he put the first two boxes aside and opened the third box. When Leliana had described it he’d thought it sounded familiar, but he wasn’t sure, which is why he’d asked to see it. Now, however, it was easily identifiable for what it was and that was something quite extraordinary.

Lifting it out of the box almost reverently, Jon whistled and said, “Wow, I never thought I’d be holding this. It was lost somewhere in Dorne following the death of King Daeron I Targaryen, the eighth holder of the Iron Throne, but its original owner is none other than the Conqueror himself.”

Robb whistled himself as he said, “That would make it over three-hundred years old and the oldest of the Targaryen crowns. Definitely quite the find and makes me wonder just how long it’s been sitting in the Bloodstone vaults. I would assume it has to be a relatively new addition, as I can’t imagine it was here during the War of the Ninepenny Kings or surely it would have been recovered after the death of Maelys I Blackfyre, who would surely have worn it himself if he had it.” Shaking his head, Robb grinned at Jon and asked, “So are you going to use it when you’re crowned?”

“I don’t see why not,” Jon said. “There is a certain poetry to being crowned with Aegon I’s crown when I’m setting out to reclaim the Iron Throne from its usurpers. The throne itself, after all, is the creation of Aegon. Ugly though it may be.”

“I’ve never seen the Iron Throne,” Maxwell said. “Why do you say it’s ugly?”

“It’s made entirely of swords,” Robb said. “A thousand blades, according to legend, taken from the hands of Aegon’s fallen enemies and forged in the fiery breath of Balerion the Black Dread. The dragon on which Aegon I Targaryen flew into battle.”

“Those are certainly some fanciful legends you have,” Garrett said. “Although I can’t imagine anyone being able to get close enough to a dragon to ride on it. At least not before getting roasted to death and eaten.”

The others from Thedas all agreed with Garrett’s statement. Jon, however, shook his head and said, “That much is actually true. The Targaryens were a noble family of Valyria before conquering Westeros and like all of the Valyrian noble families, they were dragonlords capable of bonding with a dragon to become a dragonrider. Not only will dragons allow their bonded rider to ride them, but they will also follow their rider’s orders, including breathing fire on command. Aegon rode Balerion the Black Dread, and his sister-wives Queen Visenya and Queen Rhaenys rode Vhagar and Meraxes, respectively.”

“Several of Aegon’s descendants were also dragonriders,” Robb said. “Although, eventually they were believed to have gone extinct. It’s not entirely known why, although many believe that it’s because over time, as the Targaryens settled into ruling the Seven Kingdoms, they didn’t need the dragons as much and they were locked in the Dragonpit. Enclosed in a massive domed building and unable to fly freely wherever they wanted, the dragons got smaller and smaller, until eventually, they all died. And even though there are still eggs in existence, none have hatched in over a hundred years and some are now so old that they’ve petrified into stone.”

Closing his eyes and tilting his head to one side, as the voices from the well whispered in his head, Theron said, “The pit is likely at least part of the reason that they died off. Dragons need to fly free and can breathe better while doing so, particularly at higher altitudes. Being cooped up inside a building would have put a strain on their bodies that would result in ill health over time. As for the remaining dragon eggs, none have hatched since the dragons died because they need to be kept at a constant high temperature and be bathed in dragon fire at least once every day for a month in order to hatch.”

Since Theron and Morrigan had already explained about the Well of Sorrows to Jon and Robb, they didn’t question how Theron knew this. Instead, Jon asked, “Are there any other ways to hatch a dragon egg? I ask because when we stopped at Claw Island on the way down from White Harbor, a raven arrived with a report from Essos, claiming that my Aunt Daenerys has somehow managed to hatch three dragon eggs.”

“There is another way,” Theron said after a moment. “Normal fire, assuming one can make it burn hot enough, can be used in place of dragonfire, but the blood of a living and unwilling sacrifice is required, along with the blood of a recently deceased loved one.”

Robb shuddered. “I think I can speak for Jon when I say that we’d both prefer not to go that route.” Jon nodded in agreement, before Robb added, “Although I suppose if it’s already done, we should see about getting Daenerys and her dragons here to Westeros.”

Jon nodded. “Yes, if the information the raven brought is true and she did hatch dragons, it would be better to get her on our side now, rather than waiting for her dragons to grow up and cause problems in the future. If she comes here with three grown dragons, it could be Aegon the Conqueror all over again if she decides not to support my claim to the Iron Throne, even though I am the legal heir as her elder brother’s first trueborn son.”

“First son?” Robb asked, confused. “I thought you were the second son?”

Shaking his head, Jon said, “As you know before we left Winterfell, we brought Maester Luwin and Ser Rodrik in on the secret of my true parentage.” Robb nodded. “What you probably didn’t know, because you weren’t in the room, is that I tasked Luwin to look through the records before leaving. He did so and sent a raven to Claw Isle with what his findings, which reveal that even though I am Rhaegar’s son with his second wife, I’m his first trueborn son, born just over a month before Elia’s son Aegon.”

“Hmm, isn’t there a rumor that he’s alive and in Essos?” Robb asked. Although before Jon could answer, Robb added, “Of course, those same rumors say that he’s been raised by Jon Connington, who according to reports drank himself to death years ago.”

Nodding, Jon said, “Ah yes, those silly rumors about the so-called pisswater prince that allege the baby whose corpse was shown at court and identified as Aegon wasn’t really him. Of course, there’s plenty of people in Essos who have the blood of Old Valyria and have the right look that they could pass themselves off as Targaryens, so I don’t really believe it’s him. Although if it is, I guess I should be glad that I’m the elder brother.”

“Why do they call him the pisswater prince?” Garrett asked.

“Because according to the rumors,” Jon answered, “the real Prince Aegon was smuggled out of King’s Landing before the sack of the city. Supposedly the baby that was killed was actually the son of a poor tanner who lived on Pisswater Bend, which is a street in the poor district of King’s Landing. The child’s mother died giving birth to him and the father apparently didn’t want him and sold him for a jug of Arbor Gold wine, which he’d never tasted before.”

“I admit that part of the story does make me doubt it,” Robb said. “There are not many people living down in that area of the city that have the blood of Old Valyria and thus have the trademark blond hair and purple eyes that Prince Aegon was known to have. Not to mention the fact that everything I’ve ever heard said that Queen Elia refused to allow a wet nurse to feed either of her children and insisted on doing it herself.”

Nodding, Theron said, “That does make the idea that she’d breastfeed a peasant boy while her own son was taken from her seem unlikely.”

“There are spells which can determine a child’s parentage,” Vivienne revealed. “But he’d need to be present for it to be cast on him. The results, however, are believed to be accurate. Well, in Thedas, anyway. Here, I suppose with magic being next to unknown until our arrival, there may be many who would not accept the results as being accurate.”

Maxwell nodded. “True, but that should only last as long as it would take to cast the spell on enough of the disbelievers to provide proof to them that the spell actually does work when it correctly identifies the names of their parents.”

At Jon’s and Robb’s curious glances, Maxwell added, “The spell in question draws a person’s family tree showing their ancestry. It doesn’t matter if their parents are dead or not.”

“Could you show us?” Robb asked.

“Certainly,” Vivienne said. “We’ll need parchment and a quill.”

Once the items in question were retrieved, both Robb and Jon were seated in front of a blank parchment with a quill resting on top of it. Vivienne raised her staff and pointed it at Robb, as Maxwell did the same for Jon. A moment later, the staffs glowed, before the quills in front of the two men stood up on their own and began writing.

Jon and Robb both couldn’t help but feel a little creeped out, as they had very little experience with magic so watching a pair of quills moving of their own accord as they wrote upon the parchments in front of them was a bit of an unnerving experience. They were sure they’d get used to it in time, but they weren’t quite there yet.

“We cast the spell so they’d record three generations starting with the two of you and going backward,” Maxwell said, as the quills stopped writing. “The number of generations can be varied upon casting, but Vivienne and I figured that would be enough of a demonstration for now.”

“The dates use the Thedosian Chantry calendar,” Vivienne added. “Only because that’s the calendar that Maxwell and I are used to using. I’m sure that in time, we’ll get better acquainted with the Westerosi calendar and be able to use it.”

Jon nodded as he picked up the parchment in front of him and looked at it.

Jaeherys Daeron Rhaegar Targaryen, born 15 Firstfall 9:22 Dragon, firstborn son of Rhaegar Aerys Aegon Targaryen, born 8 Bloomingtide 9:03 Dragon died 13 Wintermarch 9:24 Dragon, and firstborn son of Lyanna Arya Lyarra Stark, born 3 Harvestmere 9:04 Dragon died 17 Firstfall 9:22 Dragon.

Looking at the names and dates of the generation that followed, Jon nodded when he saw Aerys and Rhaella Targaryen and Rickard and Lyarra Stark listed as his grandparents. It was a bit strange seeing his name day and his year of birth listed in a different format than what he was used to, but then he had been warned in advance about that discrepancy.

Looking over his own parchment, Robb saw exactly what he’d expected to see, although a part of him wished that there was one particular detail that wasn’t listed.

Robb Eddard Benjen Stark, born 30 Harvestmere 9:22 Dragon, firstborn son of Eddard Brandon Rickard Stark, born 27 Cloudreach 9:02 Dragon died 15 Kingsway 9:42 Dragon, and firstborn son of Catelyn Sansa Minisa Tully, born 12 Drakonis 9:04 Dragon.

Closing his eyes briefly, as he fought back the tears at seeing the written date of his father’s passing, Robb looked at the next line and saw that it did list Rickard and Lyarra Stark and Hoster and Minisa Tully as his grandparents. Nodding, he said, “Well, that spell definitely seems to work right as far as I can see. It gave details that we haven’t shared with any of you, so I don’t think it would have been possible for you to fake these results.”

Jon took a moment to explain a bit about the Westerosi calendar to his new acquaintances. He wasn’t about to call them friends yet, seeing as how’d he’d only known them for a few hours now. He had to admit, however, that he did find Theron rather attractive.

In discussing the calendar, he realized that there were a few similarities in that both Thedas and Westeros had twelve thirty-day months in a year for a total of 360 days. Thedas used different names for their months, as in Westeros Jon’s name day was 15 Sun’s Dusk 278 AC, although only the Citadel and the nobility used the name Sun’s Dusk, as a general rule, with the commoners instead calling it Eleventh Turn.

“My condolences on your father’s death,” Garrett, who was seated next to Robb, said as he looked at the parchment and recognized that Robb’s father had passed away a few days over a fortnight ago.

“Thank you,” Robb said. “I haven’t even properly mourned him yet. We would normally have had a service in the family crypt, but family and I decided to postpone that until he was actually in it.” Sighing, he added, “Unfortunately, I have no idea where his remains are right now. Somewhere between King’s Landing and Winterfell, I suppose, but that’s over fourteen hundred miles.”

“Sadly we do know where his head is,” Jon said, almost growling with rage. “I was half-tempted to tell the captain to stop the ship in King’s Landing so that I could storm the Red Keep and take it, but without an army at my back, I realize that both the Gold and White Cloaks would do everything they could to stop me and if I was caught, Joffrey would probably order my execution for trying to steal from him.”

“Is there any way that we can get into King’s Landing safely?” Robb asked. “We need to get Sansa and Bran out of there. Tommen too, I guess, as I doubt Bran will be willing to leave him behind.”

“I’ve been thinking about that on the voyage down here,” Jon said. “It might be a good idea if we took Myrcella too. It would give us leverage over Queen Cersei if we held two of her beloved children. I realize that Joffrey is the king and I don’t know how much he actually listens to his mother, but I’ll take any advantage we can get.”

Maxwell raised an eyebrow as he returned to his seat. “Just to be clear, are you actually suggesting kidnapping children for use as leverage?”

“I understand that might sound bad to people not familiar with Westerosi culture,” Jon admitted. “It’s done fairly frequently here, however.”

“Also I would point out that Myrcella isn’t actually a child,” Robb said. “She’s seventeen years old. The only reason she hasn’t married yet is that Cersei refuses to present her at court for marriage proposals because she doesn’t want her daughter to leave her side. As for Tommen, he’s fifteen, so by Westerosi standards, he’s less than a year away from being an adult himself.”

Seeing that Maxwell still looked a bit dubious, Jon added, “Besides that, Joffrey is a sadistic little shit. He had Robb’s father arrested on false charges of treason and summarily executed the very next day without even the semblance of a trial. Also, a few months back, during a visit to Winterfell, I saw how he interacted with his siblings, and I got the distinct impression that they’re both terrified of him. Tommen more so than Myrcella, so we’d probably be doing them a favor to get them out of the Red Keep and away from Joffrey.”

Nodding Robb said, “I doubt Bran will be willing to leave King’s Landing without Tommen anyway and I suspect that would work both ways. Bran and Tommen developed a friendship over the month that the royal family spent in Winterfell a few months back.” Grinning at Jon, he added, “In fact, we have a bet with each other on whether or not they’re more than friends.”

Maxwell nodded. He still felt a bit strange about the idea, but he understood that a difference of culture was likely to blame. He was also smart enough to know that it wouldn’t be wise to come to Westeros and start trying to impose Thedosian culture on the Westerosi, as there was no surer way than that to make enemies that he didn’t need or want.

“There are ways this can be done,” Leliana said. “I’m quite good at stealth, as is Varric, and there are spells that can hide one from view and even silence footsteps.” The mages nodded. “However, any mission of this sort is doomed to failure without knowing the layout of this Red Keep. Not only would we need a way in, preferably not through the front gate, but we’d also need to know exactly where Myrcella, Tommen, Bran, and Sansa will be. Also, how many guards are there? Are there any traps or other security measures?”

Jon grinned. “Well, lucky for us, I already have a good idea on most of that, as my uncle was Hand of the King before his execution and he included enough encoded information in his correspondence home that we should be able to do this. Not to mention that I’ve also got a loyal man on the inside.”

-o-0-o-

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Through the Eluvian
By J.C. Vascardi

-o-0-o-

Act I, Part VI

-o-0-o-

Prince Tommen’s Quarters, Maegor’s Holdfast, Red Keep, King’s Landing, The Crownlands; 9 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

Meanwhile, in the Red Keep, fifteen-year-old Prince Tommen Baratheon was alone in his quarters, playing with the three black kittens that Bran gave him as a name day gift the previous week. Tommen named them Ser Pounce, Lady Whiskers, and Boots.

The prince wished that Bran was with him, but one of the official reasons he’d been brought to King’s Landing in the first place was to squire under Ser Barristan. So, while Bran was also Tommen’s official companion, he did have other responsibilities that prevented him from spending every waking moment with Tommen, as both boys would prefer.

Still, Tommen loved his kittens. He’d always loved animals and the fact that these were a gift from Bran just made them all the more special to him. Tossing a ball of string, Tommen watched happily as the three kittens bounded across the floor after it. Unfortunately, his happiness didn’t last long.

Just as Ser Pounce pounced upon the ball of string, the door opened and Joffrey entered the room, along with his sworn shield, Ser Gregor Clegane. Tommen watched in horror as Joffrey bent down and picked up Ser Pounce.

“Hello Tommen,” Joffrey said, as Clegane closed the door and stood in front of it.

Tommen couldn’t help but flashback to all of the pets that he’d had over the years. Such as the orphaned fawn he’d adopted when he was eight. The one that Joffrey killed and used the leather from to make a jerkin.

“Hello J… Your Grace,” Tommen said, catching himself before he called his brother Joffrey. Even though it was his name, ever since he was crowned he insisted that Myrcella and Tommen call him Your Grace instead.

“Having fun playing with these little rats are you?” Joffrey asked with a sneer, as he held Ser Pounce up by the scruff of his neck. Shaking his head, as he came over to where Tommen was sitting on his bed, Joffrey added, “Don’t think about lying to me, Tommen. I can see just from the expression on your face that you’re worried I’m going to hurt them.”

“Please don’t,” Tommen nearly whimpered.

Dropping Ser Pounce upon the bed next to Tommen, Joffrey said, “I could be convinced not to, but it will cost you.”

Before Tommen could respond, Joffrey grabbed the back of his brother’s head and pulled him off the bed, forcing him down into a kneeling position in front of him, and then pushing Tommen’s face against his crotch. “Pleasure me and I’ll let your little rats live. If you refuse or do a bad job, however, I’ll skin them alive, chop them up, put the pieces in your food and make you eat them.”

Tommen shuddered. The thought of sucking Joffrey’s cock made him ill. Not that it was the first time. Joffrey had been turning to Tommen for sexual release for years now. Mainly because he couldn’t do so with Myrcella, as there’d be a risk of pregnancy. Tommen, however, was not a bearer, as proven by the multiple times that Tommen had been forced to go inside himself and pretend that what was happening wasn’t happening as Joffrey had his way with him.

Tommen briefly fantasized about shoving the fireplace poker up Joffrey’s arse, but he knew that he’d never make it across the room to get it before Joffrey killed one of his kittens. And then there was Ser Gregor who certainly wasn’t going to allow Joffrey to be hurt. Besides, if there was one person in all of Westeros that Tommen was more afraid of than Joffrey—as hard to believe as that might be—it was definitely Gregor ‘The Mountain’ Clegane.

‘Which is precisely why he brings him with him to watch,’ Tommen thought bitterly. Despite the four year age difference, Tommen was pretty equally matched with Joffrey and if it came down to just the two of them one-on-one, Tommen might stand a chance. He held no illusions, however, about just how easily the broad-shouldered Clegane, at almost eight feet tall with arms as thick as small tree trunks, could snap him in half like a twig.

“Stop stalling, you little arsewipe,” Joffrey said. “Unless you want me to order Ser Gregor to stomp on your kittens?”

“No, don’t, fine,” Tommen said as he reached up and undid the fastenings on Joffrey’s breaches, before pulling out his cock and licking it until it was hard. And then despite the fact that he wanted to be doing anything other than this, he imagined that it was Bran’s cock in his mouth. That at least got him through it without wanting to throw up in his mouth. He also hoped that in fantasizing about Bran he’d do a good enough job that Joffrey felt well and truly sated.

Of course, that was assuming that Joffrey kept his word and didn’t hurt Tommen’s kittens regardless. Still, Tommen was going to do his best to make sure that Joffrey felt that he’d had done a good job, as he knew from past experience that Joffrey was actually almost nice after good sex.

Not for the first time, Tommen almost wished it was possible to assign a person that wasn’t him to the job of Royal Cocksucker or Royal Bed-Warmer who could suck or be fucked by Joffrey as many times a day as it took for him to stay in that almost nice state. He’d feel extreme pity for whatever poor sod ended up in that position, but they’d deserve the highest honors possible for doing the kingdom a great service.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Joffrey’s cock exploded as he grabbed the back of Tommen’s head and forced him to drink every last drop. Not that Tommen would have removed his mouth even if Joffrey’s hand wasn’t holding it in place. He’d made that mistake only once and ended up with several painful bruises in places that Cersei wouldn’t see them as punishment for wasting a drop of Joffrey’s royal cum, which in Joffrey’s mind was far too precious to be allowed to go anywhere but inside his lovers or his pet toy boy in the case of Tommen.

As the last drops of cum shot from his brother’s cock, Tommen made sure to lick it clean before removing his mouth and gently placing it back inside Joffrey’s smallclothes, before refastening his breaches. Chancing a look up at his kingly sibling, Tommen thanked all the Gods when he saw that familiar glint in Joffrey’s eyes which said that he was in a state of post-orgasmic bliss that tended to translate to him being almost a nice person—at least until something happened to set him off which with Joffrey could be just about anything.

Patting Tommen on the head, as if he was a dog, Joffrey said, “Good boy. Your little rats can live for another day at least.” Turning towards the door, he said, “Come Ser Gregor. I have a meeting with the Small Council.”

Tommen waited until both men were gone and the door was closed before standing up and going over to the table by the window. Pouring himself a glass full of Arbor Gold, he drank it down in large gulps, hoping to wash away the taste of Joffrey’s cum from his mouth. It took three glasses before he couldn’t taste it any longer.

-o-0-o-

Lord-Commander’s Quarters, White Sword Tower, Red Keep, King’s Landing, The Crownlands; 11 Frostfall/Ninth Turn 298 A.C.

Ser Barristan sighed as he sat down in his quarters, finished with his duties for the day. He was still in great physical condition, but he’d be lying if he said there were never any days where his age caught up with him. He was sixty-five years old, after all. All the training, exercise, and healthy living in the world couldn’t stop the inevitable progression of time and aging.

Sending one of the servants for hot water so that he could soak his aching muscles, Barristan had already taken off his cloak and was about to remove his armor when his keen senses heard the sound of chains. Thus a moment later when there was a knock on the door to his quarters, he wasn’t at all surprised to see Grand Maester Pycelle.

“Evening Ser Barristan.”

“Grand Maester. What brings you to the White Sword Tower?”

Raising his arm and holding out a sealed scroll, Pycelle said, “A raven arrived for you.”

Taking the scroll, Barristan examined it and sure enough ‘Ser Barristan Selmy’ was written on the outside of the scroll, just to the left of a wax seal depicting six crossed swords. Most people would probably miss it, but the swords each had a pair of tiny dragon heads on the cross-guards. Knowing that Pycelle was watching him, he didn’t react at all, although he knew the moment he saw the seal who the message was from.

“Thank you Grand Maester,” Barristan said. “I’m sure you have other duties to attend to and I’ve got an appointment with a hot bath.”

Before Pycelle could say anything, six of the castle servants entered the room, each carrying two buckets of steaming hot water. Without a word, they began filling the wooden tub in the corner of the room. If Pycelle was at all upset by the fact that Barristan wasn’t going to open the letter and read it in his presence, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he just nodded and said, “Have a good evening,” before he turned and left the room.

Once the servants had left the room, Barristan locked the door to his quarters. As tempted as he was to read the missive that Pycelle had delivered immediately, he didn’t want his bath to cool, so stripping out of his armor and smallclothes, he got into the tub and sighed contentedly as the hot water felt glorious.

After a few minutes, however, he picked up the missive from the stool he’d set it on when he’d gotten into the tub, the letter had remained firmly in his hand while there were still other people in the room. The seal in question was an extension of the personal crest once used by Rhaegar Targaryen, which had consisted of three crossed swords… to the trained eye, it was three copies of Blackfyre. Jon had altered his father’s personal crest by adding three more swords. It was only now that Barristan looked at it more closely that he noted that it was still only three of the swords that had dragon heads. The other three had tiny direwolf heads at the end of the cross-guards.

Breaking the seal and unrolling the scroll, it took a moment for Barristan to read the missive. In his day to day work, he didn’t read High Valyrian as a general rule, as almost all of the written records of the kingdom were written in Common. Reading the first line of the letter, he immediately recognized Rhaegar’s personal cipher that he’d created to keep the contents of all of his correspondence a secret. Only a select few people, Barristan being one of them, had been taught how to decode it.

Eddard Stark had also been given the key to it so that he could teach Jon how to use it.

Barristan,

With the death of my uncle, the time has come for me to claim what is rightfully mine. I’ve already begun securing allies and as you know, I’ve already called the other surviving members of the Kingsguard out of hiding. I need you to join me, but before you do, I need Sansa, Bran, and Tommen out of the Red Keep. And if it can be arranged without endangering the collection of the other three, Myrcella as well.

As I write this its 9 Frostfall and I’m currently on the island of Bloodstone in the Stepstones, having liberated it from the pirates. As I suspect it’ll take 2-3 days for the raven to reach King’s Landing, make whatever plans you need to make and be ready for the arrival of my allies after nightfall on 13 Frostfall.

Jaeherys

Once he finished reading the missive, Barristan threw it into the flames of the nearby fireplace and watched it burn until the scroll had completely disappeared, before putting his head back against the edge of the tub and closing his eyes to resume his relaxing soak. It was 11 Frostfall, so he had a day to make the necessary plans, not counting most of the day on the 13^th, since his true liege’s allies wouldn’t be arriving until after nightfall.

-o-0-o-

Corridor, Red Keep, King’s Landing, The Crownlands; 11 Frostfall/Ninth Turn 298 A.C.

Finishing up his training for the day, Bran Stark made his way to his room. Of course, he was delayed on his way by Grand Maester Pycelle who asked him if he knew who the letter Ser Barristan had received was from. Shaking his head, Bran said, “With all due respect, I’m his squire, Grand Maester, not his secretary. I tend to his arms and armor, not his correspondence.” Pausing for a moment, he then added, “And even if I did handle his mail, how could I possibly know who it’s from when I never even saw it because you personally delivered it to him when I wasn’t around?”

“It had a rather interesting sigil stamped in the wax,” Pycelle commented. “I can’t recall ever seeing it before. Six crossed swords. Do you recognize it by any chance?”

“No, I can’t say that it sounds familiar,” Bran lied. “I’m afraid I’m still learning the sigils of all the southern houses, so I couldn’t say whose it is, other than that I know for sure it’s not the sigil of a Northern house.”

Pycelle nodded but said nothing more as he shuffled off down the corridor, his chains clanking as he did so. Bran, meanwhile, mused for a second about the fact that he’d just succeeded in lying to the Grand Maester. Of course, he recognized Jon’s personal sigil. And if Pycelle wasn’t so old and more concerned about getting laid, he probably would have recognized it for what it was as well.

However, Pycelle had apparently not looked at it closely enough to notice the details on the six crossed swords that would have given him a pretty good clue, considering that three of the swords had dragon heads on the cross-guards and three of them had dire wolves. Of course, if one didn’t have good vision and a good light source—and Bran didn’t really think Pycelle had the first one due to his advanced age—those were details that weren’t actually easy to see.

Not for the first time, he did wonder if perhaps Jon shouldn’t have chosen that particular sigil for his personal seal, but he wasn’t going to argue with his cousin about it. The reason for the correspondence with Barristan did spark his curiosity, however. And he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t hoping that the reason was to get him and Sansa out of King’s Landing and away from Joffrey.

He only hoped that Tommen would be included because in the month they’d spent in Winterfell together, they’d become fast friends. Their friendship had become even stronger during the trip south to the capital and in the time since they’d settled into life in the city, the friendship had blossomed into a full-blown romance. Bran had every intention of spending the rest of his life with Tommen and because he like most of the Stark men was a bearer, he had every intention of marrying Tommen and bearing his children.

So, Bran agreeing to leave the capital without Tommen at his side was about as likely as the Dothraki becoming pacifists, settling down in one place and adopting an entirely agrarian lifestyle where their horses were only ever used to plow fields and pull wagon loads of crops to the market. And anybody with even a passing knowledge of the Dothraki knew that scenario was about the furthest thing from likely as it was possible to get.

-o-0-o-

Prince Tommen’s Quarters, Maegor’s Holdfast, Red Keep, King’s Landing, The Crownlands; 9 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

Shaking his head, Bran continued on his way to his quarters and made it there without further incident. Changing clothes, he then walked over to the door that connected his room to Tommen’s and knocked. After a moment, a somewhat muffled voice called out, “Come in.”

Bran could hear the strain in his boyfriend’s voice, so his concern went up as he opened the door and entered the room. “Tommen, what’s wrong?”

“Joffrey,” Tommen said, from his position on the bed, where he was cuddling one of his kittens to his chest, while the other two played with a ball of yarn in his lap. “He did it again.”

Crossing the room and sitting down next to Tommen, Bran wrapped his arm around him and asked, “There’s so many ways that I could take that statement.”

Tommen nodded before he clarified. “He made me take his cock in my arse again. With Sir Gregor standing guard at the door watching.”

Closing his eyes, Bran screamed internally, as his arm tightened around Tommen’s waist a bit. As if being forced along with Sansa to watch his father’s execution wasn’t enough, he also had to deal with the knowledge that Joffrey had been forcing himself on Tommen for years now. If it wasn’t for the fact that it would leave Tommen alone with nobody to comfort him, Bran was more and more finding it harder to restrain himself from committing regicide.

A part of him seriously believed that being branded a Kingslayer for the rest of his life would probably be worth it in the end, as he’d be doing the world a favor in killing Joffrey. The only problem was that Tommen was only fifteen years old, so if Joffrey died, while Tommen would be the new King, Bran was doubtful about Tommen’s ability to pardon him of Joffrey’s murder, the way King Robert did for Jaime Lannister.

Tyrion Lannister, the acting Hand of the King, never did seem to have anything nice to say about his nephew, so he doubted that Tyrion would be too much of an issue, although Queen Cersei and Lord Tywin were another story. Not to mention the fact that Sir Gregor Clegane was almost constantly at Joffrey’s side and Bran didn’t really like his odds against the Mountain.

Placing his kittens in their basket, Tommen leaned into Bran’s embrace and whispered, “Hold me.”

Bran didn’t need any further prompting, as he shifted into a laying position and pulled Tommen close to him in a full-body hug, their bodies melding together like they were made for each other. It wasn’t long before the two boys were kissing, although they didn’t do anything else, before they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

-o-0-o-

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Through the Eluvian
By J.C. Vascardi

-o-0-o-

Act I, Part VII

-o-0-o-

Red Keep, King’s Landing, The Crownlands; 13 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

On the evening of the thirteenth day of Frostfall, Barristan left the White Sword Tower by way of a hidden passage in his quarters that was unknown to any of the other members of the Kingsguard. Making his way through the hidden passages of the Red Keep—many of them almost forgotten about after King Maegor the Cruel died since he’d had all the workmen who built the keep killed to keep them quiet—Barristan finally entered a large, hidden chamber which housed the door to one of the castle’s secret escape routes.

Closing and locking the door he’d used to enter the hidden chamber, he crossed the room and unlocked the door at the far end of the room, which opened onto a narrow ledge. Below the ledge was a hundred foot drop to a small hidden beach below, although well concealed in the rocks, were a series of Valyrian steel hand and footholds which allowed the cliff to be scaled by those who knew about them.

He knew that Rhaegar would have told Eddard about this route so that he could tell Jon, in case he ever needed a secret way into the Red Keep. Of course, this route was useless unless you had someone on the inside of the keep since even if you did manage to find the holds by mistake and scale the cliff, the door couldn’t be opened from the outside as there was no handle or any means of disengaging the locks.

Propping the door open a few inches, Barristan leaned against the table in the center of the room, his sword at the ready, just in case. He rather doubted that anyone who wasn’t supposed to know about the hidden route would choose tonight of all nights to find it, but it was better to be safe than sorry. It took a few minutes, but he soon heard movement outside the door that pulled open a minute later. Seeing who it was, however, Barristan nodded.

“Lord Stark,” Barristan said as Robb Stark entered the room. Jon had wanted to come personally, but Robb and their new Thedosian allies, not to mention his three Kingsguard knights, convinced him that would be a bad idea. If things went south tonight, the last thing they needed was Jon getting captured. As his bid for the throne would be over before it began if that happened.

Jon had obviously not been all that happy about Robb going but understood that somebody that Barristan would recognize had to go. It had been an oversight he hadn’t even realized until several hours after the raven had left Bloodstone with his missive that he hadn’t told Barristan which of his allies to expect nor had he set up any form of code word that they could use to prove to Barristan they were a friend.

Barristan would have recognized the other Kingsguard knights, of course, but they all agreed that their place was at Jon’s side. Besides which, Robb wanted to go, as it was his family that was being rescued.

“Ser Barristan,” Robb said, just as Leliana entered the room, followed by Theron and Vivienne. Robb pointed at each of them and introduced them to Barristan by name only, saving the more detailed explanation of where they were from for a later time, before he said, “Theron and Leliana will accompany you to get Sansa, Bran, Tommen, and Myrcella. Vivienne and I, meanwhile, will be doing something else.”

“Don’t take any unnecessary risks, Robb,” Barristan said. “I don’t want to have to explain to Jon why his favorite cousin is locked in the dungeons of King’s Landing awaiting execution.”

“Don’t worry about me, Barristan,” Robb countered. “I can handle myself and Lady Vivienne is very accomplished.”

Barristan looked leery, prompting Vivienne to say, “You needn’t worry about me, Ser Barristan. I’m not some soft woman who needs somebody to take care of me.”

Before Barristan could respond, Vivienne raised her right hand and snapped her fingers, which to Barristan’s shock made his entire body below his neck freeze solid. “As you can see, I can take care of myself,” before she reversed her spell.

“She… she…” Barristan said.

“Has magic, yes,” Robb said. “So does Theron. It’s a long story, better saved for another time. Suffice it to say that Jon has gathered some very capable allies that will give him a definite advantage in his bid for the throne. Now, let’s get to it, shall we?”

-o-0-o-

Bran Stark’s Quarters, Maegor’s Holdfast, Red Keep, King’s Landing, The Crownlands; 13 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

Barristan had been hesitant to leave the room unguarded with the cliff door unlocked, but then he had sealed off all the passages that Varys’s little birds knew about on his way down. And even if he hadn’t only the Lord-Commander of the Kingsguard had the key to unlock the door to the hidden room that held the cliff door. Besides that, Garrett, Fenris, Carver, and Morrigan were guarding the beach and their boat.

Leading Leliana and Theron through the hidden passages, Barristan took them up a few flights of hidden stairs until finally he opened a small panel in the wall and peered through it. Satisfied, he closed the spy panel and opened the larger panel into the room, ushering them inside.

“This is Bran Stark’s room,” Barristan whispered, as he closed the hidden panel behind them.

“Who isn’t here,” Leliana pointed out.

“Not to worry,” Barristan said. “If I know my squire at all, he’ll be in Tommen’s room through there,” as he gestured towards a door to the left of the fireplace.

“They have connecting rooms?” Theron asked.

Nodding, Barristan said, “If Tommen was a girl, this would be the bedroom used by his chief lady-in-waiting. Since he’s not, it was empty and Cersei saw no reason not to accede to Tommen’s request that Bran be given this room. One of the main reasons he was even brought to court was to be Tommen’s official companion, after all.”

Walking over to the connecting door into Tommen’s suite, Barristan found that it was ajar and he could hear Bran talking softly. Anyone else probably wouldn’t have been able to tell who was whispering, but Bran had been Barristan’s squire for the last several months so even though he couldn’t make out exactly what was being said, he still recognized Bran’s voice.

-o-0-o-

Prince Tommen’s Quarters, Maegor’s Holdfast, Red Keep, King’s Landing, The Crownlands; 13 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

Entering the room, the group of three found Bran and Tommen laying in Tommen’s bed, with the prince’s three kittens curled up in a basket at the foot of the bed. Bran and Tommen both had their backs to the door. Now closer, he could make out the soft sound of crying and realized that it was Tommen, as Bran whispered words of comfort in his ear.

Clearing his throat, both boys jumped slightly and turned, their eyes widening upon seeing Barristan, and the man and woman behind him that neither of them recognized. Motioning towards them, Barristan said, “This is Theron and Leliana. You can trust them.”

Bran nodded, trusting his master. Tommen, however, was too distraught and just laid his head against Bran’s shoulder, after the two pajama-clad boys had moved into a sitting position, facing the newcomers. Seeing the tear tracks running down Tommen’s cheeks, Leliana knelt down next to the bed and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Joffrey, he’s a sick…” Tommen choked out, before shaking his head, unable to continue.

Bran hugged Tommen and said, “Tommen had just finished up his history lesson when Joffrey summoned him to the courtyard behind the kitchens. When he arrived Joffrey was torturing three black kittens that he led Tommen to believe were his.” Motioning towards the basket, Bran said, “As you can see they weren’t, but Joffrey had Ser Gregor hold Tommen still and make him watch as he tortured the kittens to death.”

Shaking his head, Theron muttered, “Nuva isa’edhis benafalas i miol’en av ra.”

“What?” Bran asked, confused at the strange language, which was about as confusing to him as the man’s strange facial tattoos and pointed ears.

“Theron is an elf,” Leliana explained. “Also known as a child of the forest.” Turning her head and grinning at her old friend, she said, “He was just swearing at Joffrey.”

“What did he say?” Tommen asked as he wiped his tears away with the handkerchief that Leliana handed him.

Theron whispered, “It means ‘May his dick rot and the insects eat it.’”

Despite the fact that he’d just been crying, Tommen couldn’t help but smile at that. He wasn’t the only one, however, as pretty much everyone in the room was too. Leliana and Theron had never met Joffrey, but from what they’d heard of him since arriving in Westeros, it was clear that he was a sick bastard.

“Just out of curiosity, how would you say that to him?” Tommen asked. “Not that I’d ever say it to his face, but I’d love to be able to whisper it to his back after just about every time I see him.”

“Change isa which means his to mar which means your,” Theron answered. “Not that you’ll be having many chances in the future to be seeing him anyway.”

“We’re here to smuggle you both out of the castle,” Barristan whispered at Bran’s and Tommen’s confused looks. “So you won’t have to deal with Joffrey anymore.”

“What about Sansa?” Bran asked.

“And Myrcella?” Tommen added. “If I’m gone, Joffrey will be mad and take it out on her.”

“We’re smuggling them out of the keep as well,” Leliana added. “This is at Jaeherys’s request.”

Bran nodded content, although Tommen only looked confused, prompting Bran to say, “Jaeherys is a friend, Tommen. If you trust me than you can trust him.”

Removing some clothes from her pack, Leliana said, “Get dressed.” Looking at Tommen, she said, “I know it’s not quite the finery you’re used to but it’s impractical for where we’re going.”

Both boys nodded, as they got off the bed with the clothes Leliana handed them and went behind the dressing screen near Tommen’s wardrobe.

Once Tommen and Bran were dressed, they came out from behind the screen and Theron said, “I’m guessing you’ll want to take the cats, which is fine. If there’s anything else that’s small and won’t weigh you down too much, you can take it, but be quick about it.”

Tommen and Bran nodded as Tommen went over to his desk and opening a drawer pulled out his journal, his favorite book, and the Valyrian steel dagger that his father had given him on his name-day the year before he died. Bran ducked into his own room and retrieved a couple of small items. He was back only a couple minutes later, and was fastening a sheathed sword to his belt, prompting Barristan to nod and say, “Good lad.”

“I can carry the books for you,” Leliana said as Tommen fastened the sheathed dagger to his belt. He hesitated only for a moment, before handing over his journal and book to Leliana, who placed them in her black leather hip pack.

Grabbing the basket holding his kittens, Tommen placed a cloth cover over it, as Barristan walked over to Tommen’s wardrobe and reached up, triggering a hidden latch on the top edge of it. A moment later, the whole wardrobe swung away from the wall to reveal a hidden opening behind it and Barristan ushered them all inside. “Let’s go.”

“No talking in the passages,” Theron whispered. “The walls should be thick enough that you won’t be heard, but it's better that you keep quiet anyway. We don’t want the alarm raised before we’re safely away.”

-o-0-o-

The Traitor’s Walk, Red Keep, King’s Landing, The Crownlands; 13 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

Meanwhile, Robb and Vivienne made their way through the hidden passages, getting as close to their destination as they possibly could, before they exited the passages and headed outside to the Traitor’s Walk. Robb couldn’t help but grimace when he saw the sight of his father’s decaying head on a spike. Definitely a sight he could have done without seeing, but there was no way he was going to come to the Red Keep and not retrieve Eddard’s head so that it could be interred with the rest of him at Winterfell.

“Quite the gruesome sight,” Vivienne said. “You have my condolences, my dear.”

“Thank you,” Robb said, as Vivienne snapped her fingers and made Eddard’s head freeze solid, which did a pretty good job of getting rid of the stench of decay, in addition to stopping any further decomposition. Several flies that had been buzzing around it also fell to the ground as small icy pebbles. Putting a burlap bag over the frozen head, Robb lifted it off of the spike, before the two of them made their way back to the passages, thankfully unseen.

-o-0-o-

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Through the Eluvian
By J.C. Vascardi

-o-0-o-

Act I, Part VIII

-o-0-o-

Red Keep, King’s Landing, The Crownlands; 13 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

After leaving Tommen’s room, Barristan collected Sansa and Myrcella, with some reassurance from their respective siblings and a whisper of Jaeherys by Bran to Sansa. Both girls were more than curious about the clothes they were asked to put on, especially since they were boy’s clothes and thus for what was probably the first time in her life, Myrcella found herself wearing pants. Growing up in the North, Sansa had done it occasionally, as there were sometimes tasks that needed to be done in the far north for which a dress simply wasn’t appropriate.

Making their way through the passages and down to the hidden room that held the cliff door, Sansa finally broke the silence, after they were all in the room and Barristan had locked the door behind them. “What exactly are we doing?”

“Leaving the Red Keep,” Barristan answered. “We can’t go out the front gate, however, so that leaves us with only two options. One involves climbing down the side of the cliff that the keep sits upon and the other involves going through the sewer. I chose the former.”

“Climbing a cliff?” Myrcella asked, a note of panic in her voice. It's not like rock climbing had been included in her various lessons.

“Would you prefer walking through the sewer system?” Barristan asked. “And I apologize for this in advance but there’s really no way to sugar coat it: with the constant fear of somebody’s piss or shit falling on your head?”

“I’ll take my chances with the cliff thanks,” Tommen said, as Bran and Sansa nodded. Seeing that she was clearly outvoted, Myrcella agreed to go the cliff route as well. Of course, the visual that Barristan gave also played a big role in her going with the majority.

“I won’t lie and say that it’ll be easy,” Barristan said. “However, the path we’re taking was designed as an escape route. So it leads down to a small trail that leads to a secluded section of beach off the Blackwater Bay. And there are hand and footholds of Valyrian steel embedded in the rocks. They’re not visible from the ground but they are there.”

“I’m guessing Joff doesn’t know about this route,” Myrcella said. “If he did, he’d have ordered the steel removed and melted down so that he could have a sword crafted. He’s been whining about not having a proper Valyrian steel blade ever since he was crowned King.”

Nodding, Tommen said, “Yeah, even though he doesn’t have a sword yet, he’s already picked a name for it.” Shaking his head, he grimaced as he added, “Widow’s Wail.”

Shaking his head, Theron said, “The more and more I hear about your brother, the less I like him.”

“I can’t blame you,” Myrcella said. “He’s a sadistic little tyrant. I’d like to say that he wasn’t as bad as a child, but that would be a lie.”

“He’s killed every pet I’ve ever owned,” Tommen said. “And I heard that when he was about four or five, he found out one of the kitchen cats was pregnant. He wanted to see the kittens so he grabbed a knife and cut them out of their mother’s womb.”

Shaking her head, Leliana said, “He’s lucky the cat didn’t scratch him.”

“It couldn’t,” Myrcella said. “The cat was sleeping when he arrived and he put the knife through its head before cutting it open. A dead cat isn’t exactly in a position to scratch anyone.”

“I’m sure he would have gotten around to killing my kittens soon enough,” Tommen said as he looked down at the basket he was holding. “But he’d want to wait until they were older. Make sure I was attached before he kills them, so as to cause the most pain.”

“He sounds positively beastly,” Vivienne said.

“Indeed. He does and he is,” Robb said. “But this discussion can wait until we’re out of what for the time being is his castle.”

-o-0-o-

Secluded Beach, Below the Red Keep, The Crownlands; 13 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

Half an hour later, they were all safely down the cliff and meeting up with Garrett, Fenris, Carver, and Morrigan. Just as they were about to board the boat, however, bells started ringing in the Red Keep above.

“Shit, they’ve raised the alarm,” Robb said. “Someone must have found Myrcella or Tommen missing.”

“Probably our mother,” Tommen said as Myrcella nodded.

“The Keep will be locked down,” Barristan said. “The Gold Cloaks will be put on high alert and start patrolling the city. And it won’t be long until the royal fleet is deployed to blockade the Blackwater.”

“Get in the boat,” Theron said, as he looked over at Morrigan and asked, “Feel like helping me create a distraction while the others get away?”

“If I must,” Morrigan said with what sounded like a put-upon sigh. But Theron had known her long enough to see the hint of mischief in her eyes which said she was actually looking forward to stirring things up a bit.

“What are you going to do?” Robb asked, even as he ushered everyone else into the boat.

“Give them something else to worry about,” Theron said cryptically, as he walked as far away from the others as he could so that he was standing knee deep in the water. Before anyone could say anything else, however, Theron’s whole body glowed as it got larger and he took flight in the form of a dragon, followed only seconds later by Morrigan.

As two loud draconic roars echoed through the night, drowning out the sound of the keep’s alarm bells, a shocked Barristan asked, “They can turn into dragons?”

He wasn’t the only one who was shocked, of course. Robb, however, having seen Flemeth do it, remained calm and simply said, “As I said earlier, Jaeherys has recruited some very accomplished and capable allies.”

“Who’s Jaeherys?” Myrcella asked.

“Later, sis,” Tommen said, even though he wanted to know the answer himself. “First, let’s get out of here.”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” Robb said, as he climbed into the boat last, Carver and Fenris already with oars in hand to row them out to the ship that was waiting for them.

-o-0-o-

Aboard the Red Claw, Blackwater Bay; 13 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

In an effort to not raise any suspicion, it hadn’t been one of the former pirate ships that Robb and the others sailed to King’s Landing upon. Nor was it one of the Northern Fleet. Instead, it was a ship bearing white sails covered in red crabs, which had accompanied them south from Claw Isle to Bloodstone.

Lord Cristian Celtigar, who’d taken the lordship of Claw Isle following the death of his childless elder brother Ardrian nearly two years earlier, was more than happy to help Jon. The Celtigars were of the blood of Old Valyria, after all, and were among the Targaryen loyalists who had always believed Robert to be a usurper.

While Claw Isle did most of their trading with Gulltown in the Vale, they did send a few ships southwest to King’s Landing each year, so nobody would find it strange to see one of House Celtigar’s ships in the Blackwater Bay. A ship bearing the direwolf of House Stark or the merman of House Manderly would definitely have raised suspicions, however.

Already in the process of being repainted and outfitted with new sails, the former pirate ships also couldn’t be sent into the Blackwater, because while ships bearing the sails of Houses Stark or Manderly would be suspicious, a ship with black sails depicting the red three-headed dragon of House Targaryen would be raising alarms.

Spending most of the day of the thirteenth loading and offloading cargo in King’s Landing, however, Lord Celtigar’s ship, the Red Claw, didn’t arouse any suspicions when it sailed out of the Blackwater following the alarm being raised in King’s Landing. Several ships were departing after all, especially after the sighting of two dragons.

Thankfully, the Red Claw was designed similarly to the swan ships of the Summer Isles and was capable of crossing the Narrow Sea to trade with the Free Cities. So, it didn’t have to hug the coast and thus could sail far enough away from the main Westerosi shipping lines that nobody noticed when the ship sailed south towards the Stepstones instead of north back towards Claw Isle.

-o-0-o-

Port of Bloodstone, The Stepstones; 15 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

The Red Claw docked at Bloodstone on the morning of the fifteenth, and Robb was surprised to learn that Theron and Morrigan hadn’t returned yet. He’d expected them to beat the ship back to Bloodstone, as dragons could surely fly faster than a ship could sail.

Before he could worry too much, however, he couldn’t help but smile as two of the direwolves came running down the docks towards the gangplank that had just been put out.

“Lady!” Sansa cried, as Bran said, “Summer!”

Sansa and Bran promptly found themselves flat on their backs on the deck of the Red Claw, Lady and Summer standing over them, licking their faces and wagging their tails like crazy. Considering what they now knew about Joffrey's cruelty towards animals, they were both extremely happy that they'd listened to their late father and told Lady and Summer to remain in Winterfell when they left.

After a few minutes, the direwolves finally felt as though they’d given a good enough greeting to their masters, as they backed off and allowed Sansa and Bran to stand back up. With a smile, Ser Kristoff Celtigar—Lord Cristian’s son and heir—handed Sansa a towel to dry her face, while his twin, Ser Krispian handed one to Bran.

“Thank you, Ser Kristoff,” Sansa said gratefully, as she began wiping her face. As much as she adored Lady, she could do without having her face covered in the she-wolf’s saliva.

“My pleasure, milady,” Kristoff said with an overly flourished bow, which had Krispian crossing his arms and shaking his head at his brother, who was sometimes way too much of a flirt for his own good.

-o-0-o-

Lord’s Solar, Bloodstone Fortress, Isle of Bloodstone, The Stepstones; 15 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

Leading the way back up to the fortress, Robb soon found himself in the lord’s solar with Sansa, Bran, Tommen, Myrcella, Barristan, Jon and Maxwell. The rest of the group that had gone on the mission opted to return to their rooms and get cleaned up. Ghost, Grey Wind, Lady, and Summer curled up in front of the fire, keeping an eye on their respective humans as they talked.

After a few introductions were made, Robb briefed Jon and Maxwell on the mission in King’s Landing. When he’d finished, Maxwell smiled and said, “I wouldn’t worry too much about Theron and Morrigan. I don’t really know Theron that well, but Morrigan aided the Inquisition back in Thedas and trust me when I say that she’s very resourceful.” After a brief pause, he added, “Of course, Theron also slew an archdemon, so he’s also quite capable.”

“Well, hopefully, they’ll return soon,” Jon said. Turning to Tommen and Myrcella, he said, “Anyway, welcome to Bloodstone. I’m sure you both have questions, starting perhaps with who is Jaeherys?”

Both of them nodded, as Myrcella said, “If I recall correctly, the Mad King’s father was named Jaeherys, but he died over half a century ago.”

Nodding, Jon said, “Indeed, you’re correct, King Jaeherys II Targaryen was indeed the father of King Aerys II Targaryen, the latter being my grandfather.” Tommen’s and Myrcella’s eyes widened at this, as Jon smiled and said, “I’m Jaeherys Targaryen, formerly known as Jon Snow, the Bastard of Winterfell. Of course, I’m not now nor have I ever been a bastard, as that was just a cover story to keep me safe from your late father. I’m Rhaegar Targaryen’s son with his second wife, Lyanna Stark.”

“I apologize for saying that King Aerys was mad,” Myrcella said.

“No need,” Jon said. “He’s well known as the Mad King, and I’m not blind to the fact that he was quite mad. Although, I chose not to believe that it was entirely due to his Targaryen blood, as some have claimed. I’ll admit it may have played a part, but I believe that it was more so a combination of grief over the loss of four children, his wife’s multiple miscarriages, and being betrayed and locked up in Lord Denys Darklyn of Duskendale’s dungeon for six months.”

Robb nodded. “The persistent belief by many that Hand of the King Tywin Lannister was the true ruler of the Seven Kingdoms while Aerys was basically a figurehead probably didn’t do his mental state any favors either. It certainly ruined their friendship.”

“Well, I’ve never seen any hint of madness from you, Jon,” Bran said before he grinned and said, “Unless you count dating my brother.”

“Hey!” Robb said indignantly.

Wrapping an arm around Robb and planting a kiss on his cheek, Jon grinned at Bran and said, “That’s a sign of good taste, not madness.”

Bran’s grin made it clear that he was only joking, but playing along, he said, “If you say so.”

“Personally, I think they look good together,” Sansa said with a smile. “Besides, once they get married, Jon will actually be our brother as we’ve been pretending he was all these years.”

“Sansa! Bran!”

A moment later, Sansa and Bran found themselves pulled into a hug, their faces pulled tightly against their mother’s bosom, much to the amusement of the others present. Not that any of them could blame Catelyn Stark for being happy to see the children she hadn’t seen in a little over half a year. Especially when they’d been living in the snake pit that was King’s Landing.

“Mom! I can’t breathe!” Bran managed to get out before Catelyn let go of them.

“When did you get here, Mom?” Robb asked.

“She arrived early this morning, about an hour before you did,” Maxwell answered.

“I just couldn’t stand to wait another day to see my children,” Catelyn said. “It would have been at least another week or two before you made it back to Winterfell and I couldn’t wait that long.”

Robb nodded, understanding, but after a moment he asked, “What about the bannermen?”

“I stayed until they’d all returned to their holds,” Catelyn answered. “They’ve all sworn their allegiance to Jon as the rightful Lord of the Iron Throne and are headed back to their holds to raise their armies and prepare for war.”

“I was worried they might not support me,” Jon said. “Seeing as how they thought I was a bastard. Not to mention the whole grandson of the Mad King thing.”

“You’re a Stark, Jon,” Catelyn said. “The Northern lords are loyal to the Starks and have been for thousands of years. Targaryen blood or not, they all quite liked the idea of a Stark sitting on the Iron Throne and they all want to see Joffrey get what’s coming to him for murdering Ned.”

“Well, I should send ravens,” Robb said. “Make sure they know to head for Moat Cailin. Ruin or not, no southron army has ever managed to get past it when it’s fully garrisoned.”

“Already done, Robb,” Catelyn said. “Until further orders from you, the lords in the southernmost sections of the North are going to march for Greywater Watch to support Lord Reed, while the rest will head for Moat Cailin.”

“This is probably the most dangerous time,” Jon said. “If word gets to Joffrey of an impending rebellion, then he might send an army to crush it.”

“I doubt that will be a problem,” Maxwell said. “He has problems much closer to home.”

“What do you mean?” Tommen asked.

“A raven arrived from Dragonstone this morning,” Maxwell answered, as he turned to look directly at Tommen and Myrcella. “Lord Stannis Baratheon has sent out ravens proclaiming that all three of the late King Robert’s surviving children with Queen Cersei are bastards born of incest. He claims to have proof that your mother has been having an affair with your Uncle Jaime, and that he’s your father, not Robert. As a result, he’s declared himself the rightful Lord of the Iron Throne. Of course, to make things even more uncomfortable for Joffrey, Renly Baratheon has also laid claim to the Iron Throne.”

“Of course, he’s not the only wannabe King,” Catelyn said. “Balon Greyjoy is having delusions of grandeur again and has declared himself King of the Iron Islands and the North. I had to have Theon locked in the dungeon before I left, as the guards caught him trying to sneak out of Winterfell to try to go join his father.”

“I don’t think Balon Greyjoy will be a problem,” Theron said as he walked into the room. “Morrigan sends her regards, but decided to skip the war council in favor of spending some time with Kieran.”

“How is Balon Greyjoy not going to be a problem?” Jon asked. “He’s got one of the largest fleets in Westeros at his command.”

Theron grinned. “Had one of the largest fleets. A fleet isn’t much of a threat when it’s at the bottom of the sea.” At the surprised and confused looks, Theron dropped to one knee next to Jon and said, “I apologize if I’ve crossed the line, Your Grace, and throw myself at your mercy if that’s the case, but in addition to creating a distraction to get Robb and the others safely out of King’s Landing, Morrigan and I may have taken the initiative to sink a large portion of the Iron Fleet… and the Lannister fleet… with dragon fire.”

Everyone in the room was quiet at this confession, waiting to see how Jon would react. After a moment, he threw his head back and laughed. When he calmed down, he was smiling, as he said, “Theron, I’m so happy with you right now that I could kiss you.”

“Hey now, no kissing other men in front of me, Jon,” Robb said, before he grinned and whispered in Jon’s ear, “Unless we do it together, anyway.”

Jon remained quiet for a moment before he stood and unsheathing Blackfyre, he tapped Theron once on each shoulder and said, “Theron Mahariel of Clan Sabrae, Warden-Commander of the Grey of Ferelden and Arl of Amaranthine, I, Jaeherys of House Targaryen, Third of My Name, Rightful Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm name you Lord of Bloodstone and Lord Paramount of the Stepstones.”

Theron’s eyes widened as he looked up at Jon, more than a little shell-shocked by the unexpected reward. He didn’t say anything, however, as Jon sheathed Blackfyre and sat back down. Still down on one knee, this put Jon and Theron at almost eye level, as Jon said, “You were the first one through the Eluvian and after what you just did, you deserved a reward.”

“I… I don’t know what to say,” Theron said, feeling more than a little out of his depth. True, he’d already been named the Arl of Amaranthine back home, but that hadn’t really affected him the way this did. After all, the Arldom of Amaranthine had technically been granted to the Grey Wardens and the only reason that Theron was the Arl, was because the First Warden at Weisshaupt in the Anderfels had confirmed him as Warden-Commander of Ferelden.

So, in Theron’s mind, the Arldom wasn’t truly his. He was just a steward of the title until another Warden-Commander was named, which with his disappearance from Thedas would probably be happening sooner rather than later. This, however, was a title bestowed upon him in his own right, which felt extremely odd. Elves were most often thought of as second or third class citizens throughout Thedas and depending on the country, were either treated like or outright were slaves. As a result of this, being granted noble titles was not something he had expected.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Jon said. “Not only did you help retake Bloodstone from the pirates and help provide the beginning of the new Targaryen Royal Fleet, but you also weakened both the Lannisters and the Greyjoys, two enemies who I can practically guarantee would never support my claim to the Throne. You’ve performed great services to both the realm and the crown and deserve the reward.”

“I… thank you, Your Grace,” Theron said before he blushed slightly and said, “Truly though, you didn’t need to grant me lordships.” Lowering his voice, so that Jon had to strain to hear him, Theron added, “That kiss you mentioned would have been reward enough.”

‘Did I really just say that out loud?’ Theron thought a moment later. ‘Oh Creators, I did.’ At this realization, Theron could feel his cheeks heating up and he was sure that he must be looking quite silly. It had been far too long since he’d last been laid and that was apparently beginning to affect him in such a way that he was saying things he’d never say otherwise. Especially when he knew that the person he was saying it to was engaged to be married.

Whispering in Robb’s ear, Jon grinned as Robb nodded, before they moved in together and surprised Theron—who’d closed his eyes—as they each placed a hand on the back of the elf’s head and pulled him into a triple kiss, Jon’s and Robb’s lips half on each other’s lips and half on Theron’s.

At first, Theron was too shocked to do anything, but after half a minute or so, he began returning the kiss as he dared to raise his own hands and place them on the backs of Jon’s and Robb’s heads, pulling them closer as they did the same.

Catelyn looked away, not because she was disgusted, but because she still found the idea of her little boy kissing anyone to be strange, even though she knew that he was twenty years old and thus it was expected that he’d be kissing people. Barristan smirked as he remembered his own youth, not that he’d kissed anyone since joining the Kingsguard. It was best to avoid such things altogether after taking a vow to never marry or sire children.

Sansa and Myrcella blushed slightly as they looked away. Maxwell, Tommen, and Bran smiled while they watched the kiss, Bran leaning over and pulling Tommen into a kiss after a moment, while Maxwell closed his eyes and even though he understood the reasons, found himself wishing for the umpteenth time that Dorian hadn’t gone back to Tevinter after Corypheus’s defeat.

Theron’s, Jon’s, and Robb’s kiss ended a moment later, and they all blushed slightly when they realized that they’d just done that in front of an audience. For a few minutes there, they’d completely forgotten that there were other people in the room.

It was at this point that Myrcella asked, “Why would Uncle Stannis say that we’re bastards? I don’t understand.”

“Well, if he wants to lay claim to the throne himself,” Bran said, “it’s certainly a convenient way to get Joffrey and Tommen out of the way.”

“Max, could you?” Jon asked.

Nodding, Max stood up and retrieved the necessary items, explained what he was going to do to Tommen and Myrcella, before casting the necessary spells.

A few minutes later, Tommen picked up the parchment and stared at it in shock. Since the last time he’d cast the spell, Maxwell had taken the time to study the Westerosi calendar and was able to use it instead of the Thedosian calendar.

Tommen Tytos Lancel Waters, born 24 Hearthfire 283 AC, secondborn son of Jaime Tywin Kevan Lannister born 17 Last Seed 258 AC, and secondborn son of Cersei Joanna Jeyne Lannister born 17 Last Seed 258 AC.

Unsurprisingly, the generation following his parents listed only Tywin and Joanna Lannister as his grandparents. Sharing a look with Myrcella and comparing their parchments, they said almost at the same time, “It’s true, then.”

“So, that means Joffrey is a bastard too,” Robb said.

“Not necessarily,” Maxwell cautioned. “Stannis claims that he is, but we don’t have a lineage parchment for him nor do we have the proof that Stannis claims to have, so we have no way of knowing that for sure.” Looking at Robb, he added, “Plus, as Vivienne and I explained when we cast this spell on you and Jon, most people here in Westeros, being unfamiliar with magic, won’t believe this test anyway.”

“True,” Jon said. “So still going to have to fight a war to take the Iron Throne. Of course, even if Joffrey was deposed as a bastard, there are still two other claimants to the throne here in Westeros, not including myself. And of course, we can’t forget Viserys Targaryen, exiled in Essos though he is. Or the Pisswater Prince.”

“Let’s concentrate on threats here at home first, before we turn our eyes towards Essos,” Robb said, as Jon nodded.

-o-0-o-

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Through the Eluvian
By J.C. Vascardi

-o-0-o-

Act II, Part I

-o-0-o-

Corridor, Maegor’s Holdfast, Red Keep, King’s Landing, The Crownlands; 13 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

King Joffrey Baratheon smiled as he and Ser Gregor turned into the corridor that held Tommen’s quarters. Joffrey had just finished a rather annoying meeting with his uncle, Acting Hand of the King Tyrion Lannister, and felt the need to work off some of his frustrations… by fucking his little brother like a whore.

Joffrey smiled as he thought about Tommen that way, as that is exactly what he was. His personal toy boy and whore. A part of him was upset by the rumors that Tommen was more than friends with Bran Stark, but Joffrey decided to let the relationship continue. It benefited him, after all, as Tommen’s ability to give head had greatly improved since Bran entered his life. If Tommen could practice his skills on Bran and thus benefit Joffrey, he was willing to overlook it, so long as Tommen kept doing a good job.

If he didn’t, however, well, Joffrey thought with glee, he had a new way beyond Tommen’s little black rats to punish him.

-o-0-o-

Prince Tommen’s Quarters, Maegor’s Holdfast, Red Keep, King’s Landing, The Crownlands; 13 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

Arriving at Tommen’s door, Joffrey opened it without knocking and walked inside. He did not like what he saw, however. The bed was empty and there was no sign of Tommen anyway in the room. Striding across the room to the door to Tommen’s privy, he practically tore the door off its hinges he opened it so fast. Not there. He growled, as he went over to the connecting door that led to Bran’s room, checking both it and the son of a traitor’s privy as well.

“Seven damn you both!” Joffrey shouted. “Where are you?”

Walking back into Tommen’s room, Joffrey picked up the half-empty pitcher of Arbor Gold on the table by the window and threw it across the room, where it shattered in the fireplace. He then stormed out of the room, heading for the White Gold tower so that he could order Barristan and the Kingsguard to search the castle for his wayward brother. He wouldn’t want him to get hurt, after all… at least not until he could do it himself.

-o-0-o-

Red Keep, King’s Landing, The Crownlands; 13 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

Joffrey was halfway there when he spied Peter Baelish, and a smile came to his face. The man owned several brothels. Surely if his King asked, he could provide a nice sterile girl or non-bearer boy. Both would be acceptable, although as he thought about it, a boy that resembled Tommen would be preferable. He had a new crossbow that he was just dying to try out. Fucking a Tommen lookalike into the mattress before loading him up with bolts sounded like it would be quite fun indeed.

Fortunately, for all the whores in Baelish’s employ, before Joffrey could open his mouth, his mother appeared and said, “Joffrey, there you are. Myrcella is missing!”

“What?” Joffrey asked. Honestly, did his mother have to ruin his fun with… wait, did she say?

“Your. Sister. Myrcella. Is. Missing.” Cersei said, carefully annunciating each word.

“Tommen is missing too,” Joffrey said, before he fumed and said. “So is the traitor’s son.” A split second later, he was yelling at the top of his voice, “GUARDS! Raise the alarm!”

-o-0-o-

Throne Room, Red Keep, King’s Landing, The Crownlands; 13 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

Twenty minutes later, Joffrey, Cersei, Gregor, and Baelish were all in the Throne Room, along with Tyrion and Varys, as the alarm bells began ringing throughout the keep and the city below. Tyrion brought more unwelcome news in that nobody could find Ser Barristan, while Varys reported that Sansa Stark was missing too.

Just as Joffrey was about to rage at that news, Grand Maester Pycelle entered the room, along with his uncle, Ser Jaime, the latter of whom had another bit of news which further infuriated Joffrey: Eddard Stark’s head was missing from the Traitor’s Walk.

Joffrey was seething. It was clear that the Starks or somebody working for them had infiltrated King’s Landing, probably with Ser Barristan’s help, and taken Bran, Sansa, and their traitor father’s head. And then taken Tommen and Myrcella as bargaining chips.

He was just about to give the order for the Royal Fleet to be deployed to blockade the Blackwater Bay and make sure that nobody could escape by sea, when the sound of the still ringing alarm bells were drowned out by a sound that sent chills down the spines of everyone present.

“What in the name of the Seven was that?!” Joffrey asked as he stood up from the Throne and peered out of the windows behind it… just in time to see a pair of… no… it couldn’t be… they were all dead.

“I can scarcely believe that I’m saying this, Your Grace,” Pycelle said, “but it looks like two dragons.”

“Great. Just great.” Joffrey said. “First my traitorous uncles rise up against me. Then somebody infiltrates the Red Keep, takes Bran, Sansa, Tommen, Myrcella and the traitor’s head, and now there’s a pair of dragons flying over King’s Landing.”

As he said this, one of the dragons turned their head and opened their mouth, a glow clearly visible in its throat, prompting Jaime’s eyes to widen as he said, “Everyone away from the windows!”

Only seconds after everyone dashed over to the side of the room and out of the path of the windows, they shattered as a stream of green flames tinged with gold poured through them, just barely missing the Iron Throne in the process.

Looking at everyone else, Joffrey said, “Somebody find out where those dragons came from. AND DO IT NOW!!”

-o-0-o-

Lord Theron’s Solar, Bloodstone Fortress, Isle of Bloodstone, The Stepstones; 18 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

Jon and Robb had wanted to leave the Stepstones and head back to Winterfell the day after the successful return from the mission to King’s Landing, but that wasn’t to be. The winds were blowing in the wrong direction which would make sailing north a very slow process as they’d be sailing against the wind. Not being able to leave, they still made good use of their time in the Stepstones.

First, by fortifying and garrisoning Bloodstone. The local villagers it seemed had hated living under pirate rule and thus were more than happy to swear fealty to Theron as the new Lord of Bloodstone, and by extension, Jon as the Rightful Lord of the Seven Kingdoms.

The villagers were able to reveal the location of two rich granite quarries on the island which the pirates had pretty much ignored entirely, as they’d preferred to spend their time raiding, drinking, and raping then quarrying stone. Dwarven master stonemason Voldrik Glavonak, however, was overjoyed when he saw them and under direction from Theron and Jon, he immediately began overseeing a project to strengthen Bloodstone Fortress’s walls in a bid to make it an impregnable fortress that would never fall to the pirates again.

The Port of Bloodstone did have some natural defenses and the pirates had built a very rudimentary wooden fort at the mouth of the harbor, but the pirates had used it mainly as a place to store captives for sale to the slave cities in Essos. There were about a hundred men, women, and children imprisoned at the fort, who were immediately freed since slavery was outlawed in Westeros. Grateful for their rescue, all of them swore fealty to Theron, making new homes in the village and helping to build a new stone fort to guard the mouth of the harbor.

Bianca Davri was already hard at work designing and building weapons for the main fortress and the harbor fort, in addition to building copies of some of the inventions that had made her famous and very wealthy in Thedas. Such as her seed drill, spinning frame, and mechanical thresher, all of which would make life on the island much easier for the villagers, while also providing a good backbone for a thriving economy that would benefit not only the village itself but also Theron, as the new lord of the archipelago.

While exploring a cave on the island, a rich vein of lyrium was found. Within an hour of the discovery, the Eluvian activated briefly, as a team of twenty surface dwarves, formerly of the Mining Caste, were sent through by Flemeth, since those of the Mining Caste alone had the knowledge of how to safely mine the valuable, yet dangerous mineral. A secret which they guarded quite jealously.

Additionally, Flemeth was nice enough to send through another twenty surface dwarves who had previously been part of the Smith Caste to assist both Bianca and Dagna. The former with her inventions and the latter in the crafting of Valyrian steel, which Jon, Robb, and many of those from Westeros were practically grinning from ear to ear about. The first piece of new Valyrian steel that had been crafted in this part of the world since the Doom of Valyria was a brand new mage’s staff for Theron, which befitted his new position as Lord of Bloodstone and Lord Paramount of the Stepstones.

Speaking of Theron’s new position, with the founding of House Mahariel, Theron had to figure out what he wanted for his new heraldry and the words of his noble house. After some thought on the matter, he designed a shield that had a section of white on the top with a simplified version of his vallaslin in green. Below that were perpendicular sections of blue and silver with a silver dragon rampant on the blue and a blue griffon rampant on the silver.

He thought it was a good blending of things that were important to his life: his devotion to Mythal, his new ability to turn into a dragon, and the griffon which was the symbol of the Grey Wardens. For his words, he considered a few options such as shortening the Oath of the Dales or the Grey Warden motto. In the end, he chose the latter, making his words: Victory, Vigilance, Sacrifice.

Another task that was soon undertaken was the taking of the other islands of the Stepstones from the pirates. Theron would be a very poor Lord Paramount if he allowed the pirates to maintain control of the other islands in the archipelago. Between magic, strength at arms, and two dragons, the other islands fell rather quickly, with the captured pirate ships being divided equally between Theron and Jon, thus creating the Stepstones Fleet and adding to the Targaryen Royal Fleet.

There was, of course, the issue of the Free City of Tyrosh, a former military outpost of the defunct Valyrian Freehold. Situated on an island just off the coast of the Disputed Lands in Essos, it was sometimes thought of as being the northern and easternmost island of the Stepstones. And while primarily being a mercantile city now, they had been fighting for generations for control of the Stepstones and the Disputed Lands.

“I think our best strategy there is to just build up our defenses here,” Robb said. “Make it impossible for the pirates or Tyrosh to take the Stepstones. Sure, we could have Theron and Morrigan fly over there as dragons and send a strong message. But, I don’t think that would be wise at this juncture.”

Looking over at Jon, he added, “You may have the strongest claim to the Iron Throne, but as of right now, you only have the support of the North. Yes, we’ve taken the Stepstones, but previously conquered by Targaryens or not, they’re not traditionally part of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“I agree,” Barristan said. “It would be best to consolidate power in Westeros before trying to intimidate the Free Cities.”

Nodding, Gerold said, “The last thing we need right now is to alienate them to the point that they team up and come after us. And history shows that if they view us to be a big enough threat, they can and will do that. It would be far better to have a unified Westeros at our back before we risk angering them.”

Nodding, Jon said, “Indeed. Even Flemeth said we should concentrate on the Iron Throne before turning our attention elsewhere. We don’t need the Free Cities banding together against us when we’re fighting a war with Joffrey, Balon, Stannis, and Renly. And that’s without the added potential threat of Aegon and Viserys Targaryen.” Pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing, he added, “There are way too many wannabe kings.”

“Indeed there are,” Robb agreed, as he laid a comforting hand on the back of Jon’s neck and began massaging it. Jon gave him a grateful smile in return.

As the former Left Hand of the Divine and later the Spymaster of the Inquisition, Leliana knew a thing or two about building a spy network, even in this previously unknown to her section of the world. Though she’d only been in Westeros for about a month now, she was hard at work training loyal agents and gathering what information she could.

“On the matter of Viserys Targaryen, Your Grace,” Leliana said, “he is no longer an issue.” At Jon’s interested look, she continued. “Word from Essos is that he annoyed his sister Daenerys’s husband one too many times and was killed. If the reports are accurate, Khal Drogo dumped a pot of molten gold over his head.”

Robb winced. “Well, that must have hurt.” Several people at the table nodded, before he said, “So, now we have to deal with Daenerys Targaryen and her Dothraki horse-lord husband.”

“Khal Drogo isn’t an issue any longer either,” Leliana reported. “As I’ve also heard whispers that he’s dead. A minor wound left to fester I believe. There’s also reports that Daenerys walked into the flames of his funeral pyre and not only survived but hatched three dragon eggs in the process.”

“Well, that could be an issue,” Theron said. “Those dragons might be babies right now, but dragons can grow pretty quickly.” Between the knowledge granted to him by the Well and reading what texts on dragons were available in Westeros, he knew quite a bit about them now. “In two to three years they’ll be large enough that they can be ridden.”

“And how long until they’ll full-grown?” Robb asked.

“Never,” Theron answered. “Dragons never stop growing. Their growth slows as they get older, but they never truly stop until they die. The ancient elves believe that the maximum lifespan of a dragon is in a range between 150 and 250, which fit with the records I’ve come across about Balerion the Black Dread. There are conflicting reports on his age at death because it seems nobody is exactly sure of when he was born. Only that he was between 197 and 210 at death.”

“It might be wise to see if we can find and treat with Daenerys,” Maxwell said. “Better that she and her dragons support your claim for the throne, Your Grace. Just as we don’t need the Free Cities teaming up against us, we also don’t need Aegon and Daenerys teaming up against us, especially if she now has three dragons.”

Nodding, Garrett added, “Yes, three actual dragons, rather than a human and an elf shapeshifted into dragons.”

“Ideally, we’d find a way to get both Aegon and Daenerys to support your claim,” Leliana said. “They both have advantages to lend us. Daenerys has three dragons and Aegon reportedly has the loyalty of the sellswords of the Golden Company.” After a moment she added, “The same Golden Company that from what I understand prides itself on never breaking their contracts and yet reports say that they broke a contract with the Free City of Myr in order to serve Aegon.”

“Well, do we have any idea where they are?” Jon asked.

“According to the last reports I’ve seen,” Leliana answered, “Aegon and the Golden Company were last spotted in Pentos. While Daenerys is reportedly fleeing her former husband’s khalasar, as Dothraki tradition would see her joining the widows of other fallen khals in the temple of the Dosh Khaleen in their city of Vaes Dothrak. She was last spotted on the edge of the Red Waste and seemed to be headed for Qarth.”

“The Red Waste?” Arthur asked. “She must be desperate if she thinks crossing a barren desert is a good idea.”

Nodding, Oswell added, “From what I’ve heard, even the Dothraki avoid it because there’s little to no available forage and very little water, what there is being bitter and stagnant. It’s why the Dothraki have never raided Qarth because too many of their men and horses would die during the crossing.”

“That’s true,” Robb said. “So, who should we approach first? Of the two, Pentos is much closer, being about eight-hundred miles northeast of here by sea. Not that we could sail there with the way the winds are currently blowing. Qarth, on the other hand, is over three thousand miles to the east.”

“Dragons can fly against the wind,” Theron said. “I could probably carry two or three of you on my back. And going by air would be shorter than by land or sea. There’s also no need to circumvent Valyria to get to Qarth, so it wouldn’t take as long.”

“Can you guess how long those trips would take?” Jon asked.

“Less than a day for Pentos,” Theron said. “As for Qarth, that would take longer, as there’s no way that I could fly the entire way without resting. Maintaining the shapeshifted form requires food and sleep, so we’d have to camp a few times on the way. At a guess, three to four days. Maybe five. Of course, that’s one way.”

“So roughly six to ten days round trip for Qarth,” Robb said. “And maybe a day or two for Pentos. It might be best to go to Pentos first, simply because it is the closest. Also, assuming Daenerys manages to make it across the Red Waste, it’d probably be easier to find her in Qarth itself, than trying to search the desert. So going to Pentos first gives her more time to get there.”

“True,” Barristan said. “Assuming you can broker a deal with Aegon, it also eliminates a threat.”

“Yes, because if we’ve heard of him, chances are he’s probably heard of us,” Gerold said. “And he and the Golden Company could get here a lot quicker than Daenerys could. Our defenses are still being built, so I don’t think we want to test them against the Golden Company quite yet.”

Barristan nodded, as he said, “Especially since I know from personal experience with them that they’re a very well-disciplined fighting force, who even have trained war elephants at their disposal.”

-o-0-o-

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Through the Eluvian
By J.C. Vascardi

-o-0-o-

Act II, Part II

-o-0-o-

Camp of the Golden Company, Essos; 19 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

The following morning, after eating a hearty breakfast, Theron transformed into his dragon form and laid down, stretching his right wing down to the ground so that Jon, Robb, and Barristan could use it to get onto his back. There had been some debate about who would go, with some arguing that Jon shouldn’t go himself, but in the end, it was decided that it was better for Jon to handle this personally. These were both members of his family, after all. And their shared Targaryen blood would hopefully carry some weight.

They weren’t even halfway to Pentos when they spotted a large camp decorated with solid gold banners. It would seem the Golden Company was moving south from Pentos and had stopped to rest before moving on. Scanning the camp, they spotted the largest tent near the center of the camp. Made of cloth-of-gold and surrounded by pikes topped with gilded skulls, they assumed it was the command tent where they’d hopefully find Aegon and the leader of the company. Letting out a roar to announce them, Theron came in for a landing, as men scurried around the camp, moving out of the way of the incoming dragon.

Landing with a resounding thud, Theron stretched out his wing again, allowing the three men on his back to dismount, just as two men exited the nearby command tent. One was older, probably between fifty and sixty, with thinning gray hair and a portly frame. He didn’t look much like a warrior. The other was younger, of an age with Jon and Robb by the look of him. He was much thinner than the other man and had a full head of platinum blond hair with blue streaks.

The older man held back, clearly rather afraid of the dragon, while the younger one came closer, studying the dragon and the three men who’d just dismounted it. Before anyone said a word, the dragon’s whole body glowed for a moment before it shrunk down into Theron’s normal form.

“Impressive,” the young man said, before turning eyes upon Jon, who’d opted to wear Aegon the Conqueror’s crown for this meeting, and asked, “And you are?”

Jon didn’t answer, instead, he motioned towards Robb, who said, “You stand in the presence of Jaeherys, of the House Targaryen, Third of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.” After a brief pause, he then added, “And I’m Robb Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Lord Paramount and Warden of the North.”

“Theron Mahariel, Lord of Bloodstone and Lord Paramount of the Stepstones,” Theron said, deciding to leave off his other titles because as impressive as they might be, they required more explanation that he felt didn’t serve any purpose at the moment.

“Ser Barristan Selmy of the Kingsguard,” Barristan said, and then added, “Also known as Barristan the Bold.”

“Ah, yes, the one who killed this company’s former leader during the War of the Ninepenny Kings,” the young man said. “Deformed monster that he was.”

“You shouldn’t speak so of a former leader of the company, Aegon,” the older man said.

“He was my bastard kin, Harry,” Aegon said. “And he had a small, misshapen second head attached to his shoulder. It isn’t an insult to call him deformed, just a statement of fact.”

Turning back to Jon, Aegon motioned first towards the older man and said, “That’s Harry Strickland, Captain-General in command of the Golden Company. And I’m Aegon Targaryen… a claimant to the same titles your Lord Stark claims you possess. Although in truth I’d say that neither of us currently hold those titles, seeing as how it’s Joffrey Baratheon’s arse sitting on the Iron Throne.”

“The acquaintance of that bastard usurper’s arse with the Iron Throne is fleeting, I assure you,” Jon said.

“On that much, we can agree,” Aegon said. “Anyway, you’ve obviously come here for a reason, so why don’t we step into the tent and discuss it.” Turning, Aegon snapped his fingers at a young serving boy who had just peaked around the tent flap. “Bring my guests bread, salt, and wine.”

Once everyone was seated in the tent and the traditions of guest right were taken care of, Aegon asked, “So, Jaeherys, what business do you have with me?”

“I’ve come to ask you to surrender your claim on the Seven Kingdoms and support me for the Iron Throne,” Jon answered.

“Interesting,” Aegon said. “And why would I do that? I have the ten thousand men of the Golden Company at my back. And it shouldn’t be hard for me to get Dorne on my side, considering that my mother was Prince Doran Nymeros-Martell’s beloved sister.”

“That’s assuming, of course, that you actually are the son of Rhaegar and Elia Targaryen,” Jon countered. “Every record in Westeros would dispute that, however, as Aegon Targaryen is recorded as having died as a baby. Ripped from his mother’s breast by Ser Gregor Clegane and smashed against a wall.”

“Bold words for a man who comes into a camp of ten thousand with only three men,” Harry pointed out.

“One of whom has powerful magic at his command and can turn into a dragon,” Jon said. “I do believe that does help even the odds quite a bit.”

“Point,” Aegon said with a grin.

“Besides that, I have the support of the North,” Jon added. “It also shouldn’t be hard for me to get the support of both the Vale and the Riverlands. Considering that Robb and I are betrothed and his aunt, the Lady Lysa Arryn, is the current Regent of the Vale until his cousin Robert comes of age and Lord Hoster Tully of the Riverlands is his grandfather.”

Aegon’s grin got bigger at this, as he spent a moment looking Jon and Robb up and down, the reason becoming clear when his eyes lingered upon their crotches. After a moment, he took a sip of his wine and said, “I might be willing to acquiesce to your request,” holding up a hand to forestall any comment from Harry, he added, “should you agree to meet my conditions that is.”

Raising an eyebrow, Robb asked, “And what pray tell are those?”

Aegon smiled. “First, a full pardon for the man who raised me, one Lord Jon Connington, and the promise to restore him as the lord of his family seat as a full lord again, not just as a landed knight as his cousin Ronnet currently is.”

Well, that doesn’t sound too unreasonable. Jon thought, even as he nodded for Aegon to continue.

“Second, I want a holding for Harry and a promise that the Golden Company will have a home in Westeros,” Aegon said. “Many of the men are exiles or the children or grandchildren of exiles who yearn to return to the land of their or their ancestor’s birth.”

“Provided that none of them are wanted for crimes such as murder, rape, or treason, I think that’s potentially doable,” Jon said after a moment of thought. “Anything else? I notice you haven’t asked for anything for yourself yet.”

Aegon grinned. “Very astute of you. My third condition and this one is non-negotiable, is that you agree to grant me a holding of my own, a seat on your Small Council, and that you do what members of our family have been doing for generations and take me into your marriage bed along with Lord Stark as your lawfully wedded husband with everything that entails.”

Jon was quiet for a moment. He couldn’t deny that this Aegon Targaryen was attractive. And if he truly was Aegon, half-brother or not, then marrying and bedding him would certainly be the surest way of ensuring his loyalty. Glancing over at Robb to gauge his reaction, Jon could see that Robb was giving the platinum blond an appraising look of more than just his face.

Wanting to clarify a point, Jon asked, “When you say take you into my marriage bed, do you mean as my husband alone? Or as Robb’s as well?”

Aegon grinned. “I certainly wouldn’t refuse to marry both of you.” After a brief pause, in which he was clearly thinking, he added, “And if it helps, I was tested by a maester before leaving Pentos. I’m a bearer, so I could potentially provide both of you with heirs.”

“Well, that’s interesting,” Jon said. “Robb and I are both bearers, so, that wasn’t really an issue, but I suppose it couldn’t hurt anything to have an additional bearer to help provide us with legitimate heirs. Dangerously close to extinction as it is, the Targaryen family does need to be built back up after all, and Robb will need heirs for Winterfell.”

Pausing for a minute, he then said, “Before I even consider agreeing to your conditions, there’s a magical test that Theron can perform. One which will determine beyond any doubt whether you truly are who you say you are. Because if you aren’t a Targaryen, there’s really no point, as you’d have no claim to the throne.”

Aegon was quiet at this, as he considered Jon’s words. In the back of mind, he had always harbored a slight doubt about his identity. He wanted to believe his foster father that he truly was Aegon Targaryen, son of Rhaegar and Elia, but he wasn’t a fool. He knew there was a chance that Jon Connington was lying. He’d been sober for the last couple of years, but he was a falling down drunk at one time. Not exactly the most trustworthy source of information.

Finally, Aegon nodded and said, “What does this test involve exactly?”

“We’ll need parchment, a quill, and a writing surface,” Jon said. “I’ve brought the first two, so you’ll only have to provide the third. Robb and I have both had the spell cast on us to test it, so we can assure you that it’s not painful in any way and that it’s perfectly safe.”

“So this test showed what you expected it to show then?” Harry asked.

Nodding, Robb said, “Yes, it did. Theron isn’t the one who cast it on either of us, as that was another mage in Jon’s employ, but they taught him how to cast it before we left Bloodstone. And in both cases, it listed details that we hadn’t shared with the casting mages, details which they had no way of knowing when they cast the spell, so it would have been impossible for them to fake the results.”

“Very well then, I’m ready when you are,” Aegon said, as he pointed at a small portable writing desk in the corner of the tent and motioned for the serving boy to bring it to him.

Pulling the parchment and quill from his pack, Robb placed it on the desk as Theron stood up and removed his new Valyrian steel staff from his back. Pointing his staff at Aegon, the blond man noticed that the top half of the staff was two griffins addorsed, their wings raised and holding a longbow in their talons. Though it was upside down, Aegon was able to make out the words Tamlen’s Kiss engraved on the bow.

As the quill stood up and began writing, a curious Aegon asked, “Tamlen’s Kiss?”

Theron closed his eyes briefly, before he said, “It’s named for Tamlen Vanos, my clanmate, best friend, and first lover. We planned to be married, but he died. Twelve years ago.”

“My condolences,” Aegon said.

Harry, meanwhile, tilted his head to one side and asked, “I’ve seen a lot of men from Volantis with slave markings on their faces, but I’ve never seen the like of yours before.”

“I’ve never been to Volantis,” Theron said. “And those aren’t slave markings. They’re called vallaslin. They’re part religious ritual and part coming of age rite. When one of my people can sit through the application in complete silence, without flinching or crying out in pain, then they are deemed ready for the responsibilities of adulthood.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Harry said. “I didn’t mean any offense.”

“It’s fine,” Theron said. “I understand that I probably look quite different from what you’re used to. I’m sure, for example, my ears are causing questions in your heads.”

“Well, it’s certainly true that I’ve never seen anyone with ears quite like yours before,” Harry said. “I’ve heard tales of a people far to the east who bind their children’s heads at birth so that they form points, but I’m guessing that’s not the case here.”

“You’re correct,” Theron said. “My ears are normal among my people. And they’re natural, no external binding or manipulation required.”

“If you don’t mind the question, who exactly are your people then?” Aegon asked. “Because I’ve never heard of a people with pointed ears before.”

Theron smiled. “Actually, you probably have, but were under the mistaken impression that they were extinct.” At Aegon’s confused look, Theron added. “I’m an elf or what would be called a child of the forest in ancient Westerosi legend.”

The quill stopped writing and laid back down, prompting Theron to say, “Looks like your family tree is finished. It goes back three generations starting with you. Should be more than enough to answer the question of who you truly are.”

Taking a deep breath, Aegon picked up the parchment and looked at it. A single thought in his head. The moment of truth has arrived.

Aegon Aerion Maekar Targaryen, born 12 Evening Star 282 AC, secondborn son of Rhaegar Aerys Aegon Targaryen, born 8 Second Seed 259 AC died 13 Morning Star 283 AC, and firstborn son of Elia Arianna Nymeria Nymeros-Martell, born 14 Sun’s Height 257 AC, died 23 Morning Star 283 AC.

Aegon was quiet as he looked at the parchment in front of him, which confirmed that he was indeed the son of Rhaegar and Elia… but that he was Rhaegar’s secondborn son. Looking at Jon, he asked, “I take it you’re the firstborn?”

Jon nodded. “Born 15 Frostfall 282 AC, to Rhaegar’s secret second wife, Lyanna Stark.”

“So, that means we’re brothers,” Aegon said. “Same father, different mothers.”

“So it would seem,” Jon said, not entirely sure how to react. He’d known all his life that Robb and his siblings were his cousins and that Rhaegar’s other children were dead, so he’d never thought about what it would be like to have a brother. As it would turn out, however, one of them had actually survived.

Harry, wanting more proof, asked to see Jon’s test, prompting Theron to cast the spell on Jon and producing the same result that had come about when Maxwell had originally cast the spell on Jon, only with the dates being Westerosi instead of Thedosian. Having thought ahead, of course, Robb also pulled a sheaf of parchment out of his pack which was the marriage certificate for Rhaegar and Lyanna, signed and dated by the High Septon.

“Well, my conditions stand,” Aegon said after a minute of silence. “If you want me to give up my claim and get the support of the Golden Company.”

Jon and Robb had already discussed the possibility of Jon having to wed Aegon in order to get him to give up his claim the night before. At the time they’d considered it a longshot as they had no idea whether or not Aegon even liked men in that way. If he turned out to be a Targaryen, however, or even a Blackfyre, they agreed that to prevent a new front in the war from starting that if it came down to it, the marriage would strategically be a good idea.

“Very well then,” Jon said. “Once I’m seated on the Iron Throne, you have my word on the old gods and the new that Jon Connington will be pardoned and regain his lordship of Griffin’s Roost. Harry will be given a holding in Westeros, all exiles among the Golden Company, their children, and other descendants, provided they’re not guilty of murder, rape, or treason, are hereby allowed to return to Westeros.”

Pausing for a moment, Jon then said, “And as for you, brother, you will also be granted a holding in Westeros and a seat on my Small Council, the exact position to be determined at a later date. And in the footsteps of past generations of our family, I agree to take you as my brother-husband… provided that you agree that I am the sole Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. And that while you are welcome to share your opinion and advice with me on any issues, you will accept my final word on the matter, even if it’s not what you would have chosen. You will also agree to never plot or support a rebellion against me or my heirs that aren’t also yours.”

Aegon nodded. “I swear upon the old gods and the new to support you, your decisions, and your heirs, regardless of their parentage.” And then with a grin, he asked, “Shall we seal it with a kiss?”

With Jon’s nod, he and Aegon stood, and Jon grabbed his newfound brother’s head in his hands. Instead of kissing him on the lips as Aegon was probably hoping for, however, Jon pulled him forward and kissed him on the forehead instead. At Aegon’s pouty look, Jon said, “We’ve only just met. Our union is political, so you want more than that, you’ll have to put in the work. I’m open to more, but until I feel something romantic for you, hugs and kisses on the forehead and cheek are all you’re getting from me. And yes that also means no sex.”

Aegon sighed. “Very well, I guess I can live with that. Understand, however, that I will be courting you.” Turning to Robb, he grinned and added, “And you too, handsome.”

Robb blushed but nodded.

“It would probably be a bad idea for you to head for Myr,” Jon said. “So, why don’t you take the company back towards Pentos? And we’ll see about arranging passage for you to the Stepstones.”

Nodding, Harry said, “That’ll work. We were planning on heading for Volantis and getting ships to sail towards Qarth in order to try and meet up with Aegon’s aunt.” Aegon frowned at this, prompting Harry to say, “Even though Aegon was never much of a fan of that plan.”

“You wanted to marry me off to her,” Aegon said. “The female body doesn’t now nor has it ever done anything for me.”

“Yes, well, your claim of being Aegon Targaryen would be questioned in Westeros,” Harry said. “At least if you were married to you aunt Daenerys, the questions would be fewer, as she at least is known and accepted to be a legitimate Targaryen heir.”

“I won’t lie, there are people who will question my right to the throne,” Jon said. “I was raised as Jon Snow and passed off as Robb’s late father’s bastard son. So there will likely be some who continue to think I’m a bastard, but that’s their problem. I do plan on venturing to Qarth myself, however, to see if I can get Aunt Daenerys to back me.”

“Marriage isn’t on the table in her case, however,” Robb added. “Like Aegon and myself, Jon prefers men.”

Shaking his head, Harry said, “I can’t say that I see the appeal, as I much prefer a nice, shapely woman. But, to each their own. I’ll take the company back towards Pentos.”

“I assume you’re going to Qarth on Theron?” Aegon asked, prompting Jon to nod. “Is there room for one more? We might as well get to know one another, as brothers if nothing else. And even if marriage isn’t on the table, two nephews might be able to convince Aunt Daenerys better than one.”

“I suppose it’s possible,” Jon said. “Her late brother Viserys is the only family she’s ever really known. Assuming you don’t count her late husband. I don’t really know much about her, but there are so few Targaryens left in the world, that I do believe that those of us still left would be better banding together than fighting one another.”

Aegon nodded. “It’s just the three of us, isn’t it?”

Shaking his head, Robb said, “Four, actually. Your great-great-granduncle Aemon is still alive. He’s about a hundred years old and a Maester of the Night’s Watch at Castle Black, but still a Targaryen.”

“I’m confident I can handle one more,” Theron said. He’d originally thought three was the most he could handle, but when he thought that was before he’d ever had anyone on his back. “I’m much stronger in my dragon form. However, we’ll probably have to make other arrangements to actually get Daenerys to the Stepstones if she agrees to support you. Dragon or not, I think four is the upper limit of the number of people I can safely carry.”

With arrangements made, Aegon packed a bag with food, drink, his coin, a change of clothes and his bedroll, before joining Jon, Robb, and Barristan outside the tent, where Theron had already transformed. Jon got on first, followed by Aegon, then Robb, and finally Barristan. A moment later, Theron flapped his wings hard and took to the skies. Harry watched them go for a moment, before giving the order to break camp and get ready to move.

-o-0-o-

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Through the Eluvian
By J.C. Vascardi

-o-0-o-

Act II, Part III

-o-0-o-

Lord Mace’s Solar, Castle of Highgarden, The Reach; 19 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

Meanwhile, a very angry Lady Olenna Tyrell stormed into the solar of her son, Lord Mace Tyrell. Not waiting for her son to say anything, she asked, “Have you completely taken leave of your senses, you foolish boy?”

Mace pretended not to hear his mother, as he continued writing. Sitting down in front of his desk, Olenna rolled her eyes and said, “Put the quill down, son, we both know you’re not writing anything important.”

“Mother…” Mace began.

“Your father is surely rolling over in his grave,” Olenna cut him off. “Just what in the name of the Seven were you thinking? Supporting Renly Baratheon of all people?”

“It’s Margery’s chance to be Queen.”

Rolling her eyes, Olenna said. “Oh yes, Mace, because I’m sure my beloved granddaughter will just love being married to a man who’s shagged half the stable-boys in King’s Landing. Not to mention his longstanding relationship with her brother. You remember him right? Your favorite, youngest son? Loras?”

Not waiting for Mace to say a word, Olenna continued. “Are you really so much a fool that you didn’t consider the fact that you’ve opened our darling Margery up to rumors of incest with her brother? It’s not like Renly and Loras have done a very good job of keeping their relationship a secret, Mace. You and I both know that Loras is a sword-swallower through and through, but other people will talk. With Margery married to Renly, it wouldn’t be that much of a stretch for people to assume that she’s joining Loras in Renly’s bed.”

“She would never!”

Rolling her eyes, Olenna said, “Of course she wouldn’t. You and I know that. But what we know doesn’t matter. If that kind of rumor gains traction with the smallfolk and the other Houses, we’ll end up with a stain upon House Tyrell that will be very hard to remove. Do you think people will simply take our word for the fact that it’s not true? They’ll all be thinking ‘Of course, you’d say that. It’s your family.’”

“You worry too much, Mother,” Mace said dismissively.

“Well, at least I actually use my brain for something. Sometimes I think you’re almost worse than your father, Mace. He rode off a cliff while hawking for god’s sake. And you, my dear oaf of a son, are well on your way to taking House Tyrell off the proverbial cliff.”

“And how do you figure that?”

“Do you really need me to spell it out for you?” Olenna asked and then sighed. “Of course, you do. You’ve thrown your support behind Renly Baratheon. Renly. Ignore the fact that he prefers the company of men if you wish, but that doesn’t change the fact that he has a living elder brother. So, even if we accept the claim that Robert died without a legitimate heir, then it’s still Stannis Baratheon that’s next in line.”

Taking a breath, Olenna continued, “And then there’s the little issue of the sighting of two dragons over King’s Landing, Lannisport, and the Iron Islands. And who do we know who are known for their dragons?”

Shaking his head, “It can’t possibly be the Targaryens mother. There’s only two of them left and they’re half a world away in Essos. And dragons have been extinct for over a hundred years.”

“You really are a fat, worthless oaf, aren’t you?” Olenna asked. “Do you simply not bother to read the reports from your spymaster? Or perhaps he’s using words that are too big for you to understand?”

“I do read them.”

“Really? I find that hard to believe when it’s all over the Kingdoms that three dragons have been spotted in the skies over Westeros. Two of them sunk the Lannister and Iron fleets. I dare you to tell Tywin Lannister or Balon Greyjoy that they’re extinct after they both watched their fleets getting burned by dragonfire.”

Shaking her head, she added, “And then there’s the fact that Barristan Selmy has abandoned his post at the Red Keep, the very same night that two dragons were spotted over King’s Landing. Also, the same night that Sansa and Bran Stark and Myrcella and Tommen Baratheon went missing. There’s also reports from the North that the northern banners are raising their armies and that the Stepstones have been cleared of pirates.”

“None of that means that there’s a Targaryen behind it, Mother.”

“Perhaps not, but you’re still a fool for allying with Renly,” Olenna stated. “I’m not saying that it would be any better, because I’ve never liked him, but if you were going to ally with anyone why not Joffrey? He at least is actually sitting on the Iron Throne… the same throne I would remind you that owes us a debt of over 400,000 gold dragons.”

“394,000, actually,” Mace said. “Renly gave me 6,000 gold dragons as a dowry for Margery’s hand.”

Shaking her head. “A drop in the bucket, Mace. Barely worth even mentioning.”

“He’s promised to pay back the rest with interest.”

“Did you get that in writing? Or at least have witnesses to the agreement that don’t work for you or him? Because if not, that promise isn’t worth shite. Not to mention the fact that the only way he stands a chance of actually being able to make that kind of money is if he actually wins the throne. And as the king, he could turn around and say he never made any such agreement. What are you going to do then? Send a debt collector to the throne room of the Red Keep and hope he returns here with both the coin and his head still attached to his shoulders?”

“I… hadn’t thought of that.”

Shaking her head, Olenna muttered. “Why am I not surprised?” Even as she thought, By the Seven, what did I ever do to you to be cursed with a family of such foolish, short-sighted oafs?

-o-0-o-

Camp, Painted Mountains Foothills, Essos; 22 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

After leaving the Golden Company’s camp, Theron flew until the sun was going down, sticking to cloud cover whenever he could. Finally, within about five miles of the city of Myr, he landed and they made camp. The following day they camped about five miles southeast of the walled city of Selhorys, between it and Volantis. On the third day, they stopped and made camp in the foothills of the Painted Mountains, north of the city of Manterys. They all agreed to avoid that city, however, as none of them were particularly keen on visiting a place known as the City of Monsters.

Once their small camp was set up, Barristan took up guard duty as he usually did. Theron had tried to tell him he didn’t need to, as he’d been setting wards around all of their camps that would alert them of any danger, but he’d given up when it became clear that Barristan wasn’t going to listen. Aegon, meanwhile, busied himself with setting up their makeshift tents of which there were three, one for Barristan, one that Theron and Aegon shared, and the other for Jon and Robb. Theron and Jon prepared a campfire, while Robb went hunting.

While they each had brought food and drink with them, they all agreed that it was best to supplement what they brought with freshly cooked meat and whatever forage they could find near their camps in order to make what food they brought last longer. Theron was confident that he could make it as far as Meereen the next day. While they were all opposed to the slave trade practiced in the city, they’d have to visit a market and stock up on more food and drink for the trip further east.

Following their dinner, Aegon, Theron, Jon, and Robb were seated around the fire, each with a cup of hot tea in their hands, which Theron had made from some herbs that he’d told Robb to look out for when he went out hunting. While there were many plants that grew in Essos that Theron had never seen before, there were still some that he did recognize, and his years living with his clan had trained him well in what was and wasn’t safe to consume. Barristan was seated about twenty feet away from the others, keeping watch.

“So, if we manage to get to Meereen tomorrow,” Aegon said, “we’ll be closer to Qarth, but still probably a day or two away.”

Theron nodded. “True, but we’re still making good time. If we were walking I’m not sure we’d have even reached Myr yet.”

“Probably not,” Jon said. “Thankfully a dragon can fly a much further distance in a day than a person can walk.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Robb said, after taking a sip of his tea. “Is a dragon the only form you can take?”

Shaking his head, Theron said, “No, there’s a handful of others. Morrigan taught me about shapeshifting during the Blight.” Aegon had already learned that bit of Theron’s history at their camp outside Selhorys. “I have a total of nine different forms now, four that I learned from Morrigan, four that I learned on my own, and the dragon, which Flemeth taught me.”

“So, which forms can you take?” Jon asked.

“The forms Morrigan taught me are a raven, a giant spider, a bear, and a swarm of bees,” Theron answered. “The ones I learned on my own are a wolf, a fox, a griffon, and a halla. Plus the dragon, obviously.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a halla,” Aegon said, a confused look on his face. He could picture all of the other forms Theron had mentioned in his mind’s eye, but not that one.

“They’re a type of stag that’s native to Thedas,” Theron explained. “Usually white, with grey antlers. Although there are a few rare ones that have a golden hue with brown antlers. They’re larger than an ordinary deer and are revered by the Dalish. The Elvhen Goddess of Navigation, Ghilan’nain, is also known as the Mother of the Halla. Legend says that the ancient elves used to ride them into battle, but those days are long gone. We do still use them to pull our aravels, however.”

“What’s an aravel?” Jon asked, unfamiliar with the word.

“Humans in Thedas call them landships,” Theron said. “The Dalish use them for mobile housing and storage. They’re ornately carved wagons, adorned with bright and colorful silk hoods that resemble sails, hence the landship nickname.”

“Can we see your halla form?” Aegon asked.

“Sure,” Theron said, as he put down his cup, stood, and walked a few feet away from the fire. Closing his eyes, he concentrated for a moment, before turning into a large, pure white stag with twisting gray antlers. Aegon, Jon, and Robb all put down their cups and came closer to examine this creature. None of them had ever seen anything like it in Westeros or Essos. Even Barristan took a break from guard duty to come over and examine the creature, revealing that he’d never seen anything like it either.

After each of the men had run a hand over the short, soft fur that cover’s Theron’s halla form, Theron playfully nuzzling Jon, Robb, and Aegon after Barristan had gone back to guard duty, Theron shifted back into his true form and the four men resumed their seats by the fire. Each picked up their cups, which Theron topped up with the last of the tea.

All was quiet for a moment, as the four men simply enjoyed each other’s company. Although, after a moment, Robb sniffled as he stared into the flames.

“Robb? You okay?” Jon asked as he laid a concerned hand on his lover’s shoulder.

“I was just thinking about father,” Robb answered. “I haven’t really even had a chance to properly mourn him yet. His body hadn’t made it up to Winterfell for internment yet when we left and while I did retrieve his head from the Red Keep, I’ve been so busy in the days since that, I just…” He trailed off at this.

Jon nodded, as he wrapped an arm around his cousin, as he understood exactly how Robb was feeling, the loss of Eddard hitting both of them particularly hard. He’d been such an important part of their lives, after all. Theron and Aegon had never known him, but they could see how upset they were. Aegon reached over and laid a comforting hand on Robb’s knee, while Theron looked into the flames for a moment before he began singing an old elven ballad.

Singing in Elvhen, Theron knew the others wouldn’t understand what he was saying, but he hoped it would still calm them, at least. “Hahren na melana sahlin, emma ir abelas, souver'inan isala hamin, vhenan him dor'felas, in uthenera na revas. Vir sulahn'nehn, vir dirthera, vir samahl la numin, vir 'lath sa'vunin'. Vir sulahn'nehn, vir dirthera, vir samahl la numin, vir 'lath sa'vunin'..”

As Theron sang the last line, Aegon, Jon, and Robb smiled at him. It was Robb, who said, “Thank you, Theron. I didn’t understand a word of what you just sang, but it was calming.”

“Yes, it was beautiful,” Aegon agreed.

Theron nodded. “It’s an old ballad, sometimes sung at funerals. I was surprised to learn that it was actually sung at Leliana’s mother’s funeral. I hadn’t realized that humans were aware of it or that they’d sing something in Elvhen, given how many of them usually treat my kind with disdain.”

“What is the origin of it?” Jon asked.

“Elven legend says that the ancient elves neither aged nor died of natural causes,” Theron answered. “Still, after a time, some would reach a point where they became weary of life and memories, at which point they’d voluntarily enter a slumber-like state known as uthenera. While their bodies remained here in the physical realm, their spirit would cross into the Beyond. It wasn’t necessarily permanent, as some did wake up, even centuries later, to share what they’d learned, although many never did, their bodies eventually deteriorating, at which point they would actually die.”

“Is there a translation of the song?” Aegon asked.

Nodding, Theron recited, “Elder your time is come, now I am filled with sorrow, weary eyes need resting, heart has become grey and slow, in waking sleep is freedom. We sing, rejoice, we tell the tales, we laugh and cry, we love one more day. That last part, starting with ‘we sing’ is repeated a second time.”

“That’s moving,” Robb said. “Thank you, Theron.”

“You’re welcome,” Theron said, as he finished his tea before he yawned. “Well, I should get to sleep if I’m going to be in any shape to fly tomorrow.”

Finishing his own tea, Aegon nodded, as he yawned as well. “Yeah, sleep sounds good.”

After Theron and Aegon headed off to their shared tent, Jon kissed Robb on the forehead and said, “We’ll get back to Winterfell soon, even if Theron has to fly us there. We’ll have Uncle Ned’s service and then we’ll avenge him.”

Robb nodded, as he took Jon’s hand and squeezed it. After a moment, they both finished their tea, kissed, and then headed off to their tent hand in hand.

-o-0-o-

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Through the Eluvian
By J.C. Vascardi

-o-0-o-

Act II, Part IV

-o-0-o-

Camp, Painted Mountains Foothills, Essos; 23 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

The following morning, after they’d all eaten breakfast, they were in the midst of packing up when a raven flew into the midst of their camp. For a minute, they were confused, because they knew that ravens were trained to travel between locations, not to find specific people.  After a moment, however, their confusion vanished as the raven turned into Morrigan.

“You’re certainly making good time east, I see,” she said. Looking over at Aegon, she said, “This is…” she hesitated a moment, before finishing, “…Young Griff I assume?”

“That is the name I used to use,” Aegon confirmed. “Now it’s Prince Aegon Targaryen.”

Jon nodded. “Lineage spell confirms it. He’s my baby half-brother.”

“Watch who you’re calling a baby,” Aegon said with a scowl.

Jon grinned. “You’re the youngest of our father’s children. So you’ll always be the baby of the family no matter how old you get. Sorry.”

“I hate you, Jae, I really do,” Aegon said, his tone totally unconvincing.

“No you don’t,” Robb said with a grin.

“Jae?” Jon asked.

“Well, your name is Jaeherys,” Aegon answered. “And I never knew you growing up at Winterfell, so calling you Jon seems strange.”

Nodding, Jon said, “I like it.” After a minute, he grinned and said, “I guess if we’re going to call each other be short versions of our names that would make you…”

“Don’t you dare say it,” Aegon said. “I refuse to be called Egg.”

His tone this time made it very clear that anyone called him that and they were in for a world of hurt.

Holding up his hands in surrender, Jon said, “Okay, okay. I guess Griff then? It’s no shorter than Aegon, but it is a name you seem to have been okay with.”

“Yeah, Griff is fine,” Aegon agreed.

Clearing his throat, Jon said, “Aegon, this is Morrigan.”

Nodding, Aegon said, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Morrigan nodded and said, “I bring news, Your Grace,” the last bit said in a slightly sarcastic tone. But Jon wasn’t offended because honestly, it fit Morrigan’s personality. Besides, he technically wasn’t the king yet, even if he was wearing Aegon’s crown.

“What is it?” Jon asked.

“Unsurprisingly, almost all of the houses in the Stormlands have answered Renly’s call to arms and sworn to his cause,” Morrigan reported. “Two of them have chosen to swear allegiance to Stannis instead, although one of those is actually a new house that Stannis himself created for someone known as the Onion Knight.”

“That would be Davos Seaworth and his family,” Robb said. “He’s a smuggler. I’m somewhat surprised that Stannis would make him nobility, but then I guess he’s probably running pretty low on followers right now.”

Nodding, Morrigan said, “Yes, with the exception of House Bar Emmon of Sharp Point, all of the houses that are traditionally sworn to Dragonstone have opted to swear their allegiances to Jon instead.”

“Well, Houses Celtigar and Velaryon are both of the blood of Old Valyria,” Jon said. “So I’m not surprised they swore allegiance to me. I am surprised, however, that House Sunglass of Sweetport Sound didn’t answer Stannis’s call.”

“They were going to,” Morrigan said. “However, just before they were going to leave for Dragonstone, they received word that Stannis’s advisor, the foul red woman as Lord Sunglass called her, had defiled the Dragonstone Sept, burning the statues of the Seven, and rededicated it to R’hllor. Being a devout believer in the Faith of the Seven, Lord Sunglass turned his army and that of his vassal House Rambton south to Bloodstone instead.”

“I’d heard that Stannis had one of the red priestesses from Asshai as an advisor,” Robb said. “I hadn’t realized that she had his ear enough that he’d allow a Sept of the Seven to be destroyed and rededicated to the so-called Lord of Light.”

“From what Leliana has been able to dig up,” Morrigan said, “it sounds like Stannis himself is still not sure about the Lord of Light, although the red woman—I guess her name is Melisandre—has converted several people at Dragonstone, including Stannis’s wife, Lady Selyse. It seems that she’s filling Stannis’s head with ideas that he’s some legendary hero reborn. Someone called Azor Ahai.”

“I’ve heard of that tale,” Robb said. “He came up once during one of Old Nan’s stories. Unlike some of the heroes or supernatural foes in her tales that she swears are real, however, she always dismissed Azor Ahai as a ridiculous Asshaian legend that had no place in Westeros.”

“I would tend to agree, although I understand many here in Essos, especially in the Shadowlands would disagree,” Jon said. “Anything else of note, Morrigan?”

“Lord Mace Tyrell of Highgarden has sworn himself and the bannermen of the Reach to Renly’s cause,” Morrigan answered. “Apparently, his daughter, Margery, is set to marry Renly.”

Robb snickered. “Well that’ll be a match made in heaven. Not. Considering that Renly is a pillow-biter, like the four of us,” as he motioned towards himself, Jon, Aegon, and Theron, “and rumored to be shagging Margery’s brother, the Knight of Flowers, Ser Loras Tyrell.”

Nodding, Jon said, “Not to mention half the stable boys in King’s Landing and Storm’s End.” Shaking his head, he added, “They think they’ve done such a good job keeping it a secret, but it’s the worst kept secret in King’s Landing… so much so we’ve heard it as far as Winterfell.”

“The Westerlands have sworn to Joffrey,” Morrigan reported.

“Whether he’s truly Robert’s son or not, Joffrey is still Lord Tywin’s grandson,” Robb said. “So, it’s not surprising that the Lannisters are supporting him. They’ve wanted one of their own on the Iron Throne for years now.”

“Dorne is remaining neutral, as is the Vale,” Morrigan continued. “The Westerlands have declared war on the Riverlands, as they want to wrest control of the River Road from them so that they can more easily move troops between the Westerlands and the Crownlands. Speaking of, at last count, the Crownlands are split three ways with fourteen houses each swearing for Joffrey and Stannis, with the other twelve supporting you Jon.”

“The alliance between Renly and the Reach is the most alarming,” Robb said. “That’ll give Renly a very large host.”

Morrigan nodded, as she pulled a sheaf of parchment out of her pack and handed it over to Jon. “Here’s Leliana’s estimates of the relative power of each region.”

Taking the parchment, Jon nodded, deciding to look over it later because he’d just eaten and he didn’t want to risk losing his breakfast. Tucking the parchment away, he said, “Tell Leliana that we’ve succeeded in gaining the support of Aegon and the Golden Company, so that adds another 10,000 troops in our favor. When we last spoke with the commander, he was going to take them to Pentos and sail for the Stepstones.”

“Very well,” Morrigan said. “If there’s nothing more, I’ll head back to Bloodstone.”

“Thanks for the update, Morrigan,” Jon said. “Tell everyone we’re fine and if all goes well, we should be back in a week or so.”

Morrigan nodded. Just before she transformed, however, she said, “Mother also sends a message. She said you’ll find Daenerys and her party in Vaes Tolorro, a ruined city about a hundred and fifty miles northwest of Qarth. And suggests that you hurry, as a party from Qarth who would attempt to mislead and betray her is already on their way to her position. You have the chance to arrive first, so long as you don’t dawdle.”

Before anyone could ask anything else, Morrigan’s form shrunk down to that of a raven and she took flight. Shaking his head, Robb said, “Well, that was nice and vague, but gives us all the more reason to get to Daenerys sooner rather than later.”

“Agreed,” Jon and Aegon said in unison, as they all finished packing up camp as quickly as possible, before Theron transformed and they took off.

-o-0-o-

En Route to Vaes Tolorro, Essos; 23 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

To buy themselves some more time and hopefully arrive at this Vaes Tolorro first, they opted not to stop for an hour or two for lunch as they normally did. While Aegon, Jon, Robb, and Barristan ate some fruit and dried meat which didn’t require cooking, Theron used dragonfire to roast a few birds and eat in flight to satisfy his own hunger.

They’d been keeping to a fairly leisurely pace so far, which in hindsight might not have been the best idea, but then they hadn’t known that anyone else was aware of Daenerys’s location and was headed for it. As the sun began to set they could see Meereen in the distance, maybe a mile away. Theron nodded his draconic head in agreement, however, as the others agreed to skip it and keep flying for a while longer.

The original plan had been to land, camp for the night, and then visit the food markets in Meereen the following day. However, Meereen was still nearly fifteen hundred miles from Qarth, and while Qarth was no longer their destination, they agreed they didn’t have time for any unnecessary delays. Even if the Qarthian party that meant to mislead and betray Daenerys was on foot, they were still closer to her by more than a thousand miles, so delays were now their enemy.

-o-0-o-

Vaes Tolorro, Essos; 24 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

They did have to land for a few hours eventually, but they were confident that they were making good time. Six hours later, as the sun was cresting the horizon, they were back in the air. After two hours of flight, they assumed they were getting close when they saw the point where the greenery ended and the parched land of the Red Waste began.

Finally, around lunchtime, they spotted the ruins amidst the dry, parched lands of the desert. There was clearly an oasis, as they could see grass and plants growing among the ruined buildings. Flying lower to the ground than they had previously so they could better spot if there were people among the ruins—as they didn’t know how many ruined cities there were among the Red Waste—they finally spotted a group of people camped among the ruins.

“I think that’s them,” Aegon said, as he spotted the silver-blonde hair of a woman among the group of dark-haired people. A moment later, a small jet of black flame with hints of red licked the air and they realized it had come from a baby dragon sitting on the woman’s shoulder.

“Definitely them,” Robb said, as Theron found an open area near their camp and came in for a landing.

Obviously, Theron’s landing didn’t go unnoticed by the group camped among the ruins. While many of them jumped back in fear as the ground shook as Theron’s legs hit the ground, the silver haired woman, one baby dragon still perched on her shoulder, while another clung to her left arm and a third to her right leg, came forward, clearly enthralled by the sight of Theron’s draconic form. As a dragon, Theron’s scales were green with golden accents, similar to the color of the ink of his vallaslin and the color of his eyes ever since he’d drunk the water of the Vir’Abelasan.

Putting his front legs on the ground and putting down his wings so that the others could get off his back, the woman continued to come closer, as a brown haired middle aged man, clearly worried for her safety, called out, “Khaleesi, be careful!”

The silver-haired woman stopped about ten feet from the dragon’s left flank and watched the people dismounting from the dragon’s back with interest. The black-haired man, who wore a circlet of blackened metal studded with large square rubies that was the first one off looked at her silently for a moment, before he asked, “Daenerys Targaryen?”

“Who’s asking?” Daenerys asked.

It wasn’t the black-haired man who answered, however, but a man with silver-hair streaked blue, who spoke in perfect High Valyrian, as he said, “Your nephews, Aunt Daenerys.”

Daenerys’s eyebrows rose practically into her hairline, as she said, “I don’t have any nephews.”

“You do, actually,” the silver-haired man said, still speaking in perfect High Valyrian. “One erroneously thought dead, the other born in secret a month before the first.” With a cocky smile that reminded her of Viserys, he added, “I’m Prince Aegon Targaryen, son of the late Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and his wife, Elia.”

Motioning towards the crowned man with black hair, he added, “And this is my elder half-brother, Rhaegar’s secret son with his wife Lyanna Stark… Jaeherys, of the House Targaryen, Third of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Aunt Daenerys,” Jon said, also in perfect High Valyrian, as Eddard had made sure that he not only could read and write the language, but also speak it. It had cost the late Lord Stark a fair amount of money to bring in a tutor for Jon and then keep the lessons a secret, but he’d felt it was important that Lyanna’s son could speak the language of his ancestors.

“I… I don’t understand,” Daenerys said after a moment. “My brother Rhaegar only had one wife and one son. Both died in the Sack of King’s Landing during the Usurper’s War.”

“My mother did die there,” Aegon said, “but the Spider, Varys, had me smuggled out of the city upon her request. She’d hoped to also have my sister Rhaenys smuggled out of the city, but Varys didn’t have time to find a lookalike for her. He did find a baby with the right look to replace me, although nobody would believe it if they’d gotten a clear look at his face. It was actually one of Varys’s birds, not Ser Gregor Clegane that smashed that baby’s face against a wall, making a true identification impossible. Of course, Clegane had already killed the baby by that point. Broke his neck. All so that there was nobody between him and Elia, who he then raped and killed.”

“I’m not sure if you heard about the Tourney of Harrenhal,” Jon said. “It happened before you were born, but Rhaegar shocked everyone present when he named Lyanna Stark as his Queen of Love and Beauty rather than his wife Elia. One of the primary reasons the usurper Robert used for his rebellion was that Rhaegar had kidnapped Lyanna, who he was supposed to marry. That much was true, as the late Rickard Stark had begun arrangements for a marriage, but they were never finalized, as Lyanna didn’t like Robert. Thought him a brutish oaf. So she willingly ran away with Rhaegar, who she loved, and they married in secret in Dorne. Wed by the High Septon at the time who was corrupt enough that a large bag of gold was enough for him to ignore the fact that Rhaegar was already married.”

“So, if you’re Rhaegar’s son, where have you been all these years?” Daenerys asked.

“Winterfell,” Jon asked. “The late Eddard Stark promised his sister Lyanna on her deathbed three days after my birth that he’d take me and keep me safe from Robert. The Usurper hated all Targaryens and wanted them all dead, so to hide my true parentage, my uncle claimed I was his bastard son, but he never hid the truth from me, his wife and the children they shared.”

While he wasn’t fluent, Robb had picked up enough High Valyrian from Jon over the years that he was conversant enough to say, “It’s true. While my father was willing to shoulder the public dishonor of people thinking he’d cheated on his wife, he refused to dishonor my mother by not telling her the truth privately.”

Placing his left hand on Robb’s arm, Jon said, “Daenerys, this is Robb Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Lord Paramount and Warden of the North. My cousin and fiancé.”

“Fiancé?” Daenerys asked. “You’re marrying a man?”

Robb smiled and answered. “We’re both bearers. Aegon is too.”

Nodding, Aegon said, “I’ve agreed to give up my claim to the Iron Throne and support Jae’s claim, in exchange for certain conditions. One of which being that he takes me as his second husband. He’s agreed, although as of now it’s only a political match.” Grinning at Jon and Robb, he added, “I’m hoping for quite a bit more, however.”

“I see,” Daenerys said. “I’ve never really given the idea of two or more men together much thought. Although if you’re all bearers then even the Faith of the Seven can’t say anything about it.”

That much was true, as buried in the Faith’s religious texts, there was an exception to the ban on homosexual activity, which allowed a man to marry a man, as long as one of those men was a known bearer. The Faith believed that marriage and sex was for procreation, so, while they promoted the idea of one man and one woman, it was still permissible for two men to wed in the event that at least one was a bearer, as procreation was possible.

“Besides, I suppose I can’t really say anything against you being together,” Daenerys said. “As I’ve been with Irri, my handmaiden, sexually a few times since my husband’s death. I’m not really attracted to women, but she’s still provided me with comfort and pleasure.”

Before anyone else could say anything, the dragon that was clinging to Daenerys’s arm, its scales a dark green, let go of her arm and flew over to Jon. The dragon tilted its head as it studied Jon, its tongue flicking in and out of its mouth as it smelled him. After a moment, it let out a small roar and flew up to sit on Jon’s shoulder.

Daenerys was about to say something, when the cream and gold colored dragon clinging to her leg, let go and half-hopped half-flew over to Aegon and repeated the action of flicking its tongue in and out several times. With a small roar, it flew up and sat on his shoulder.

“I… I’ve never seen them do that before,” Daenerys said. After a moment, she said, “I guess maybe you are who you say you are, as them being able to smell the dragon blood in your veins is the only reason I can think of that they’d react that way to you when they haven’t with anyone but me previously.”

Lifting his hand, Jon gently stroked the small dragon’s stomach. It playfully snapped at his finger, but didn’t actually bite him. It was really just snapping at the air next to his finger. It was clear to anyone with eyes that if the little dragon had really wanted to bite Jon’s finger it could have. After a moment it nuzzled the side of Jon’s face with its head and let out another small roar.

Looking at the green dragon on Jon’s shoulder, Daenerys said, “That’s Rhaegal, named for my brother Rhaegar.” Looking over at the dragon sitting on Aegon’s shoulder, who was also nuzzling the side of his face, she said, “And that’s Viserion.”

“Named for Uncle Viserys, I assume?” Aegon asked.

Daenerys nodded, as she raised her hand and stroked the dragon sitting on her shoulder. It was black with blood red accents. “This is Drogon, named for my late husband.”

Tilting her head up and looking at Theron, who was still in his dragon form as he used the greater height to watch out for anyone approaching, Daenerys said, “What I don’t understand is where you found a dragon of your own. I was led to believe that they were extinct until my eggs hatched. And I assume it must be bonded to one of you, surely it’s not bonded to Robb or,” here she realized that she had never been introduced to the older man, “who are you, sir?”

Bowing, Barristan answered, “Ser Barristan Selmy, Princess. Friend of your brother Rhaegar and Kingsguard to your father. Now Kingsguard to Jaeherys Targaryen.”

“Also Kingsguard of the Usurper Robert Baratheon,” the brown-haired man said as he stepped up behind Daenerys.

“Ser Jorah Mormont,” Robb said. “Funny meeting you here.”

“Are you going execute me?” Jorah asked, as he spied Ice strapped to Robb’s back.

Shaking his head, “You did regain some honor by not taking Longclaw with you when you fled, so assuming you aren’t still selling people to slavers, I’m willing to commute your sentence to time-served in exile. Your Aunt Maege will remain as Lady of Bear Island, however.”

“Selling people to slavers?” Daenerys asked. “What’s he talking about, Jorah?”

“My late father sentenced Jorah to death,” Robb answered, before Jorah could. “He was caught red-handed in the act of selling poachers to a Tyroshi slaver. As the Lord of Bear Island at the time, he was supposed to uphold the law, and instead he broke it. Before my father could arrive to carry out his sentence, however, Jorah fled. To his credit, he did leave behind his family’s ancestral Valyrian steel sword, which had been in his possession ever since his father abdicated his position as Lord and took the black.”

“I’m not,” Jorah said. “The only reason I did was I borrowed from the Iron Bank and I couldn’t pay it back. I knew they’d come after me, so when I caught those poachers, I sold them to the slaver. I regret it now, but at the time I was desperate.”

“Well, as I said, as Lord of Winterfell, I’ll commute your sentence,” Robb said. “Provided you swear on your life that you will never sell another person as long as you breathe. Because if you do, you won’t be breathing for long.”

Theron turned his draconic head at this, looking down directly at Jorah and let out a roar that almost made Jorah piss himself. Thankfully, for his dignity, he managed to not do so.

“What he said is true,” Barristan said. “I did serve under the Usurper. Although I would point out that I only did so upon Prince Rhaegar’s request. After Robert mortally wounded him at the Trident, he left him to die as he moved south. Rhaegar knew he was going to die and his final request was that I serve Robert as Kingsguard, and secretly feed information to his son, Jaeherys, and his guardian, Eddard Stark, until such time that Jaeherys told me he was ready to take the throne.”

Daenerys nodded, but said nothing as Jon said, “As for the dragon, this is Theron. He’s not from our known world, as he hails from across the Sunset Sea on a previously unknown continent called Thedas. He’s also not a dragon, despite appearances.”

“Not a dragon?” Daenerys asked, clearly finding it hard to believe that the large green and gold dragon sitting behind Jon and Aegon actually wasn’t a dragon, because her eyes and ears said otherwise.

At this, the dragon’s whole body glowed for a moment, before a phantom visage of a dragon swirled over its body for a moment, before it shrunk down into a lithe young man with pointed ears and blond hair. Bowing to Daenerys he said, “Theron Mahariel, Lord of Bloodstone and Lord Paramount of the Stepstones, at your service, Princess.”

Daenerys looked very surprised. “How… how did you learn to become a dragon? Generations of Targaryens are no doubt attempting to sit up in their tombs in envy of such a feat.”

Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion all tilted their heads to one side and let out hesitant little roars that suggested they were confused at the sight of a dragon turning into a man.

“It’s an ability possessed by the Evanuris and their priesthood,” Theron answered. “I’m a High Priest of Mythal the Protector, the All-Mother and Goddess of Love. Patron of Motherhood and Justice. I understand you’ve probably never heard of the Evanuris, as that name has been lost to time in Westeros, but not in Thedas.”

“Lost to time in Westeros?” Daenerys asked. “So it was once known there?”

Nodding, Theron said, “The Evanuris are what are now thought of as the nameless Old Gods of the Forest, who were worshipped by the Children of the Forest and the First Men. The pointed ears are because I’m a Child of the Forest, although in Thedas, we’re known as Elves.”

“In reference to his race, Theron prefers to be referred to as an Elf,” Jon added. “Rather than a Child of the Forest, as Elf is what he’s used to. It’s also shorter than saying Child of the Forest all the time.”

Before anyone could say anything, a wisp of black smoke rose up from the ground, as Flemeth walked out of it and towards the group. “Further conversation will have to wait for now. Three representatives from the City of Qarth are almost here. They’re seeking you, Daenerys Targaryen and your dragons and mean to mislead and betray you. Many of the ancient Valyrian Dragonlords were gifted with foresight, as you likely know. While the Targaryens were able to use a vision to move to Dragonstone twelve years before the Doom and thus survive it, it wasn’t the only vision that was had.”

Pausing for a moment, Flemeth said, “A few of the more powerful Dragonlord families also had visions, not of the Doom, but of the extinction of dragons. They loathed the loss of one of the major sources of their power, so they gathered together and cast a powerful curse upon the known world, which would make all magic weaken to almost non-existent levels should it ever come to pass that all of their dragons died. That’s why many magic users in both Westeros and Essos will tell you that magic got weaker with the death of the final Targaryen dragons.”

“Who are you?” Daenerys asked.

“No time for that,” Flemeth said as she raised her hands and several fallen pieces of heavy stone debris from nearby buildings moved out of the way of a doorway behind it. When the door opened, Theron’s eyes widened when he saw an Eluvian in the room behind the door. A moment later, it activated as Flemeth said, “Through the Eluvian, all of you, quickly.”

“Best do as she says,” Theron said. “She is the vessel of Mythal, after all.”

There were a few confused looks among Daenerys’s khalasar and from Aegon, although Jon, Robb, and Barristan, at least did recognize the Eluvian, as they’d all seen the one at Bloodstone. Although they had never seen it active.

“The mirror is a transportation device. On the blood of our family, trust me,” Jon said, as Daenerys nodded and ordered her khalasar through, before going through herself, followed by Aegon, Robb, Jon, Barristan, and Theron. Once everyone was through, Flemeth waved a hand at the Eluvian and the glass not only shattered, but the metal frame melted into a pool of molten liquid, as the entire building that housed it collapsed in on itself.

Turning towards the three Qarthian representatives approaching from behind her, Flemeth simply shook her head before turning into a dragon. Breathing fire, Flemeth encircled them in three concentric rings of dragonfire, before flying off. Once she’d disappeared over the horizon from Vaes Tolorro she transformed back into herself, before disappearing into a wisp of black smoke.

-o-0-o-

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Through the Eluvian
By J.C. Vascardi

-o-0-o-

Act II, Part V

-o-0-o-

Eluvian Tower, Bloodstone Fortress, Isle of Bloodstone, The Stepstones; 24 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

As the Eluvian at Bloodstone activated and Daenerys’s confused khalasar, Daenerys, Jon, Robb, Aegon, Barristan, and Theron began filtering through the mirror, they found Morrigan and Maxwell waiting in the tower. Once the last of them were through and the Eluvian closed behind them, Morrigan nodded to Jon and said, “Welcome back.”

“Thank you,” Jon said. “I don’t suppose you can explain what the hell is going on?”

After a few quick introductions, Morrigan asked, “Mother told you of the Valyrian Dragonlords’ curse?” in response to Jon’s question, to which Jon, Robb, Theron, Barristan, Aegon, and Daenerys nodded.

 “Well, the city of Qarth tracked down Daenerys and her dragons and sent representatives to bring them to the city,” Morrigan explained. “One of them, Xaro Xhoan Daxos, was just a wealthy merchant prince of the city. Not as much of a threat as the other two, although he still wanted to marry you Daenerys.”

“I have no intention of marrying again anytime soon,” Daenerys said. “My late husband isn’t even six months dead yet. And how can he want to marry me before he’s even met me?”

“Because it’s not you that he was interested in,” Morrigan answered. “He doesn’t even like women. No, the real reason he wanted to marry you was because of a Qartheen marriage custom which would have allowed him, as your husband, to claim one of your dragons as his own.”

Daenerys let loose a rather colorful string of curses in High Valyrian at this, which only Jon, Aegon, Morrigan, and Maxwell fully understood. Robb was conversational in the language, but everything he knew came from Jon, who had never taught him the swear words. From her angry expression and inflection, however, he could guess that she was swearing even without understanding the actual words. Barristan, meanwhile, had learned how to read High Valyrian well enough, although actually speaking it was another matter. Like Robb, however, he guessed that Daenerys was swearing just from her facial expression.

Continuing, Morrigan said, “It was the other two that posed a greater threat. One of them was a shadowbinder from Asshai named Qaithe. The other was a warlock from Qarth’s House of the Undying. They both wanted to make use of you in their own ways. Pyat Pree, the warlock, wanted to lure you and your dragons into the House of the Undying under the pretense of helping you take Westeros. In reality, he and the other warlocks, actually wanted to sacrifice you and your dragons in a ritual which they believed would break the Valyrian Dragonlords’ curse—but only for them.”

“And this Qaithe person?” Daenerys asked, clearly mad, but also happy that her nephews had found her and had powerful enough allies to save her and her dragons from these madmen.

“Wanted to fill your head with a bunch of false visions and warnings cloaked in the guise of prophecy,” Morrigan added. “All designed so that you would remain in Essos as long as possible and not trust anyone who wanted to help you come to Westeros, where you could potentially ruin the plans of one of Qaithe’s compatriots… the shadowbinder Melisandre.”

“Wait, Melisandre, isn’t she Stannis Baratheon’s red priest advisor?” Robb asked.

Morrigan nodded. “Yes, she is. She’s filling Stannis’s head with lies about how he’s the legendary Azor Ahai reborn and how he must face and defeat the Great Other. In reality, all she and Qaithe really want is to turn the people of Westeros away from the Seven and convert them to the worship of R’hllor. As the red priests and priestesses have figured out their own way around the Valyrian Dragonlords’ curse. They draw power from the faithful of R’hllor and from the ritual sacrifices the religion demands which in turn makes their magic stronger.”

“So, how will that curse be affected now that dragons are no longer extinct?” Jon asked, as he gently ran a finger over Rhaegal’s stomach, who was obviously enjoying it.

“It will slowly begin to unravel as the dragons grow,” Morrigan said. “And should you seek out and hatch more eggs, it will unravel faster, allowing magic to begin to come back into this world.”

Morrigan had explained the existence of the curse to Maxwell prior to the Eluvian activating. He’d had a question, but hadn’t had the chance to ask it before the mirror activated. Now, however, in the lull of conversation, he asked, “Why does this curse the Dragonlords cast seem to not affect me? Or Theron, Garrett, Vivienne, Kieran, your mother, or you?”

“Well, mother is the vessel of the Goddess Mythal, so there’s nothing the Valyrians could have cast that would have any effect on her,” Morrigan answered. “As for the rest of us, we’re not from their known world, as their curse only affected the area of the world they knew about when they cast it. The Valyrians didn’t know about the existence of Thedas, so they couldn’t curse magic or weaken the ability to use it in people who live there. Had it not been for the birth of Daenerys’s dragons, it is possible the curse would have begun to affect us the longer we stayed here.”

“So you mean our magic is going to get weaker the longer we stay here?” Theron asked.

Shaking her head, Morrigan said, “No. Daenerys’s dragons were already born before we arrived. When that happened, the curse began to break down. Having been active for so many years, Mother believes it will take a number of years to fully dissipate, but the first thing that did break upon the birth of the dragons was the curse’s ability to affect new people. So, those of us from Thedas and any children conceived after the dragons’ birth will be unaffected.”

“Well, that’s good then,” Maxwell said. “I can’t imagine my life without magic. It’s been so intrinsically part of me since it first manifested that to lose it now would be like losing a limb.”

“I fully concur, Inquisitor,” Theron said, with a grin.

Rolling his eyes, Maxwell said, “Please just call me Max. I may be the Inquisitor back in Thedas, but that means next to nothing here in Westeros. Just like your titles of Commander of the Grey of Ferelden and Arl of Amaranthine are just words here. They don’t really mean anything.”

“True enough,” Theron said. Turning to Daenerys, he smiled and said, “Anyway, as Lord of Bloodstone, allow me to officially welcome you, Princess. I’ll have quarters prepared for you and Aegon. Although I’m afraid with so many already here, we’re running out of empty rooms. I’m not sure there’s enough room for your khalasar. They might be able to setup camp in the courtyard, however, or find lodging in the local village.”

“I appreciate your hospitality, Lord Mahariel,” Daenerys said. Turning away and having a brief conversation in Dothraki with her khalasar, she then said, “The courtyard will be fine. If you can just provide me, my handmaiden, and my sworn shield Ser Jorah lodging, that’ll be fine.”

“There’s extra cots in the tower set aside for the Kingsguard,” Barristan said. “I suppose Ser Jorah could sleep there. Even if he isn’t a Kingsguard knight, he is fulfilling a similar duty by protecting a member of the royal family.”

Jorah looked like he wanted to object, but Daenerys spoke before he could and said, “That’ll be adequate. Thank you, Ser Barristan.”

“The tight quarters are temporary,” Jon said. “Once we take more castles and towns on the mainland, we’ll be able to spread out. Now that we’re back sooner than I expected, however, we can start working on just that.”

Waggling his eyebrows, Aegon said to Jon and Robb, “If tight quarters are an issue, I wouldn’t object to sharing with you.”

“It’s okay, it’s not quite that tight,” Jon said. “Remember the deal, Aegon. Hugging, and chaste forehead and cheek kisses only. No sex.” And he blushed because he couldn’t believe he just said that in front of his aunt. The fact that she was actually a year or two younger than him really didn’t make any difference.

With a grin, Robb said, “Anyway, I suppose we should all get settled. And you, Jon, should probably introduce Rhaegal to Ghost. Hopefully they’ll get along.”

“Who’s Ghost?” Daenerys asked.

“Jon’s direwolf,” Theron answered. “Jon, Robb, and his four siblings all have one that they’ve raised from puppies.”

“I knew the sigil of House Stark is a direwolf,” Daenerys said. “I wasn’t aware the Starks actually had direwolves, however. I thought they were only found north of the Wall.”

“Normally that is true,” Robb said. “However, about two years ago now we came across a dead female direwolf. She had five puppies trying to suckle her. My father’s first inclination was to put them down, but Jon suggested that me and my siblings should each take one, since there were five of them and it was our sigil. It later turned out there were actually six, as Ghost had wondered a few feet away and we didn’t see him initially.”

-o-0-o-

Lord Theron’s Solar, Bloodstone Fortress, Isle of Bloodstone, The Stepstones; 24 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

After a couple of tense moments, Ghost and Rhaegal accepted one another’s presence. Maxwell theorized that as they were both magical creatures that had bonded with Jon that they could probably detect the bond that the other shared with Jon and that shared bond created acceptance between them. It took a bit longer for Grey Wind and the other direwolves to warm up to Rhaegal and the other dragons, but within a few hours, everything was fine between them.

Sitting in the lord’s solar about an hour before dinner, Theron, Daenerys, Aegon, Jon, Robb, Tommen, and Bran smiled as they watched Ghost, Grey Wind, and Summer in front of the fireplace. Rhaegal was curled up on Ghost’s back, while Viserion was lying near the hearth with Grey Wind curled protectively around the little dragon. Tommen’s three kittens were all sleeping next to Summer. Drogon, meanwhile was perched atop the back of the empty chair next to Daenerys, apparently not wanting to be too far away from his mother, even though the other two dragons were only about five feet away.

“Well, at least they all seem to get along,” Bran said.

Tommen nodded. “I was a little worried about introducing my kittens to Summer and the other wolves, but they seem to get along quite well. Can’t say I was expecting three dragons to be added to the mix.”

“At least they all seem to accept one another’s presence,” Robb said. “I’m not sure what would have happened if that hadn’t been the case.”

“Indeed, it would have made things harder,” Jon said. Shaking his head, he then said, “Anyway, Aegon, I was wondering… would Harbormouth be acceptable to you and Harry for his holding? It’s the fort currently under construction at the mouth of Bloodstone’s harbor. It would make him a minor lord under Theron’s jurisdiction, but it’d still be a holding.”

“That’s fine,” Aegon said. “It’s not like I was expecting you to give him Highgarden or something. As long as the fort has quarters for him to live in and some income, it’s fine.”

“We should be able to work something out on that front,” Jon said. “As for you, it would require rebuilding the holding after the Stormlands are taken from Renly, but I was thinking of making you Prince of Summerhall. Our father was born there, before it burned down.”

“That would work,” Aegon said, with a nod. “It was the Targaryen summer palace, if I recall correctly.”

Nodding, Jon said, “Yes. In the meantime, I guess you’d be Prince of Dragonstone, at least until I have a son, as that is the traditional holding of the heir to the Iron Throne. Stannis Baratheon currently holds it, but that’s a temporary state of affairs.”

“Sounds good to me,” Aegon said. “What do you think the time frame is for liberating it?”

“I think we should probably deal with the Iron Islands first,” Robb suggested. “Even with a large portion of the Iron Fleet burned, Balon Greyjoy is still a threat. Especially since it was only the main Iron Fleet that was directly under Balon’s control that Theron and Morrigan burned. Leliana estimates that each of the ironborn lords can still float fleets of a hundred ships each. Not to mention the approximately twenty thousand troops they can raise.”

“Yes, there is an advantage to getting them out of commission sooner, rather than later,” Theron agreed. “They have no allies outside of the Iron Islands, and putting those ships on our side would give us a more formidable naval presence on the western coast. Between the Northern, Stepstones, and Royal fleet we have a good presence on the Narrow Sea, but we don’t have much of a presence on the Sunset Sea.”

“And the fact that Lord Tyrell has allied with Renly complicates matters,” Bran said. “As that puts the Redwyne Fleet at Renly’s disposal and if we wanted to get our current ships over to the western coast, we’d have to sail past the Arbor where the Redwyne Fleet is docked. And that’s not mentioning the fleets of the lords of the Shield Islands, who as part of the Reach are also sworn to Renly now.”

“Well, I think we should consider a visit to Sunspear,” Aegon said. “While Uncle Doran can’t provide anything in the way of naval strength, since the Dornish haven’t had a fleet since the warrior queen Nymeria burned the Rhoynish fleet a thousand years ago, they should still be able to provide much needed troops.”

Nodding, Jon said, “True. Leliana estimates they can field about forty-five thousand men. Which would certainly help us. And I know they’re still angry about the murder of Elia and her children to this day, so to find out one of them is still alive, I’m hopeful that they’ll be well-disposed towards an alliance.”

“So if we ally Dorne, what would that put our strength at?” Daenerys asked.

“About ninety thousand between the Dornish and Northern banners,” Robb said. “Roughly another five thousand from our Crownlands allies, and about a thousand can be raised here in the Stepstones without endangering the garrisons. Not counting the ten thousand of the Golden Company. Still while a hundred and sixteen thousand troops might seem impressive, Leliana estimates that Lord Tyrell can field between eighty and a hundred thousand on his own, not counting the roughly thirty-thousand from the Stormlands that are loyal to Renly.”

“Of course, Stannis is also a good target to take out,” Tommen said, his tone a bit bitter. He was still than a bit angry that the man he’d loved like an uncle for so many years had been so quick to turn his back on him and his sister. “He took most of the Baratheon Royal Fleet with him to Dragonstone when he fled King’s Landing, prior to declaring himself king. But then he was the Master of Ships, so many of the captains were loyal to him instead of Joffrey.”

Nodding, Robb said, “Yes, Leliana did mention that there’s only about fifty ships left in the Baratheon Royal Fleet that’s still loyal to the Iron Throne. But that still puts about a hundred and sixty ships under Stannis’s command.”

“Well, thank the gods we have House Celtigar and House Valeryon on our side,” Jon said. “Or Stannis would have a fleet that would rival the Redwyne fleet’s two hundred warships. And that’s not counting Lord Redwyne’s five times that many merchant carracks, wine cogs, trading galleys, and whalers. While not necessarily built for war they can still defend themselves and could be very dangerous in large numbers.”

“True enough,” Aegon said. “Renly’s host has encamped at Bitterbridge, correct?”

“Yes,” Robb said. “They’re blockading the Roseroad. He also has a force blockading the Goldroad where it crosses the northern Reach, which is why Lord Tywin is so intent on taking the Riverlands, so that he’ll control the River Road, giving him a route between Lannisport and King’s Landing that Renly can’t as easily blockade.”

Theron nodded. “And since Morrigan and I sank most of his fleet, he doesn’t have the strength to risk sailing through the Redwyne Straits. So, the River Road is his best hope.”

All was quiet for a few minutes, as the group considered their options. Finally, Jon said, “Send ravens to the North and the Vale. It’s time the North marches south and helps break the siege of Riverrun. And hopefully I can convince the Vale to help in that. Meanwhile, we should send a representative to treat with Renly. I doubt he’ll agree to bend the knee to me, but if we can at least forge a temporary alliance until the Lannisters are defeated, that would give us some breathing room.”

“That sounds doable,” Robb said. “And as much as I loathe the idea of sending her, I think my mother would be best suited to treat with Renly. She’s highborn so, if Renly is an honorable man, that gives her a level of protection that a commoner wouldn’t have. It also shows that we’re taking this seriously.”

“Yes, Aunt Catelyn’s position as the former Lady of a Great House does give her a good amount of prestige,” Jon said. “Of course technically, I suppose she’s still the Lady of Winterfell, considering that you haven’t gotten married yet Robb. Not that you’ll ever be providing Winterfell with a lady.”

Grinning, Robb leaned over and kissed Jon, as he said. “Indeed, Winterfell will just have to make due with a Lord-Consort, who happens to be the King.”

“Meanwhile,” Jon said, pointing between himself and Aegon, “we’ll travel to Dorne to treat with Prince Doran. Hopefully Aegon is correct that his blood ties to the Martells will be enough to get them on our side. If not, we may have to consider a marriage alliance.”

Catching the look he was sending her way, Daenerys sighed and said, “I will if I must. Prince Doran has two sons correct?”

“Yes, Princes Quentyn and Trystane,” Bran confirmed. “Of course, Dornish custom would make their elder sister, Princess Arianne, the ruling Princess of Dorne after her father.”

“Well, that’s actually good for us, I think,” Robb said. “Since neither of them is the heir, Prince Doran will hopefully not object that any children that might be born from a marriage between Daenerys and one of his sons should be Targaryens. Gods know the Targaryen family could use some building up, being dangerously close to extinction as it is.”

“True,” Daenerys said. “In that case, perhaps I should accompany you to Dorne. If it comes down to it that will at least allow me some time to get to know Quentyn and Trystane.”

“That’s a good idea,” Jon said. “Of course, there is potentially another option besides Doran’s sons. As Doran’s younger brother Oberyn has never gotten married. He does have a paramour, Ellaria Sand—the mother of four of his eight bastard daughters. He’s roughly the same age my father would be if he was still alive.”

“He’s also known to not discriminate in the bedroom,” Tommen said. “He’s slept with both men and women and is purported to enjoy both. He is well-traveled, however, intelligent, witty, and has a sharp tongue, from what I’ve heard.”

“Yes, I got that impression myself,” Daenerys said.

“You’ve met him?” Robb asked surprised.

Nodding, Daenerys said, “It was about a decade ago now, so I was only ten, but I remember Oberyn well enough. Viserys and I were living in Braavos at the time, in the care of the late Ser Willem Darry. Oberyn and Willem signed a secret pact, witnessed by the Sealord of Braavos, which promised Princess Arianne’s hand in marriage to Viserys, in exchange for Dorne’s assistance in reclaiming the Iron Throne. Of course, with Viserys dead that pact doesn’t mean much anymore.”

“Perhaps not,” Jon agreed. “It does, however, suggest that Dorne is willing to support the Targaryens over the Baratheons. Assuming that hasn’t changed in the time since then, that can only be good for us. What did you think of Oberyn anyway?”

“He was handsome and charming,” Daenerys said. “I wasn’t really thinking of boys and marriage at that time, but I could still recognize that much.” After a moment of thought, she said, “Assuming I don’t care for either Quentyn or Trystane, and it was a purely political marriage, I suppose Oberyn might be a good option. As long as he’s okay with me seeking companionship outside of our marriage bed.”

“That could work,” Jon said. “With the lineage spell, we’d have a way of determining whether any baby you might bear is Oberyn’s or someone else’s. Dorne also has very relaxed customs when it comes to marriage, so I don’t see that it would be an issue, as long as you can accept Oberyn’s choices in the bedroom and that he has children outside of the marriage.”

“I consider my dragons to be my children,” Daenerys said. “So, if I do end up marrying a Martell or anyone else for that matter, a chief requirement is that they accept and are not afraid of my dragons. And that my dragons accept them.”

-o-0-o-

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Through the Eluvian
By J.C. Vascardi

-o-0-o-

Act II, Part VI

-o-0-o-

Private Garden, Outside Prince Doran’s Solar, Water Gardens, Dorne; 25 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

Prince Doran Nymeros Martell, the ruling Prince of Dorne, was relaxing in one of the many gardens of the palace known as the Water Gardens. Originally a private retreat of the Martell family, Doran chose to remove himself from the capital of Sunspear for the privacy of the retreat. He suffered from gout and was no longer able to walk, so as a result he’d become quite reclusive, as he didn’t want his enemies to see him as weak. He left a council of people, including his younger brother, Prince Oberyn, in charge at Sunspear. Oberyn visited him once a fortnight and had arrived late last night.

“Morning, brother,” Oberyn said as he walked into the garden and sat down in a chair to the left of Doran’s wheelchair.

“Oberyn,” Doran said. “You’re up early today. I would have expected you to still be in bed, considering how late you arrived last night.”

“That was the plan, but alas, plans change. We have visitors.”

Doran turned curious eyes at his brother, as he asked, “What do you mean visitors? I wasn’t aware of anyone arriving other than you.”

“Well, the people in question didn’t send a raven ahead to let us know they were coming. They are, however, quite insistent upon meeting with you and me.”

Shaking his head, Doran said, “Whoever it is send them away. I’m in no mood for guests, expected or otherwise.”

“I’m not sure that would be wise, brother. From what the guards told me, there’s three guests, accompanied by four guards of their own… all wearing Kingsguard armor. And apparently the three guests each have a baby dragon on their shoulders.”

Doran was quiet for a moment, before he laughed and said, “Honestly, Oberyn, it’s too early for you to be hitting the wine hard enough that you’d think I’d actually believe that.”

“I haven’t had a drop to drink this morning, Doran, and I’m only repeating what the guards said. Also two of the guests apparently have Old Valyrian features.”

Doran contemplated that for a moment, before beckoning to his ever-present aides, who helped him transfer to a regular chair. Once the wheelchair was gone from sight, as he never allowed anyone outside of the family and his trusted friends to see it, he said, “Very well, bring them here and let me see these mythical beasts for myself.”

A few minutes later, Doran’s and Oberyn’s eyes widened when three richly clad young people, two men and a woman, walked into the garden, with four armored Kingsguard knights following behind them. The first thing both of the Dornish princes noticed were the baby dragons, each sitting upon the left shoulders of three young people… who were all wearing crowns.

This wasn’t the end of the shocks for the Prince of Dorne and his brother, however, as one of the Kingsguard knights stepped forward and removed his helmet to reveal a man that both had thought was dead. He was about twenty years older than the last time they’d seen him, but standing there in his full white Kingsguard plate was the unmistakable and very much alive Ser Gerold Hightower.

Clearing his throat, Gerold said, “Presenting Jaeherys, of the House Targaryen, Third of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. Accompanied by his aunt, the Princess Daenerys, of the House Targaryen, and his half-brother and betrothed, the Prince Aegon, of the House Targaryen. On their shoulders, their dragons, Rhaegal, Drogon, and Viserion.”

Doran shared a look with Oberyn at that announcement, before he said, “That’s quite the announcement. But, last time I checked, there was no shortage of claimants to the Iron Throne. Not to mention the fact that as far as I was aware there was only one living Targaryen left in the world. What proof do you have that you actually are members of that house?”

Jon grinned. “Well, if the dragons aren’t enough proof, you need only look at the crown on my head. It’s depicted in portraits you’ve both no doubt seen. The most famous wearer being it’s first, my distant ancestor, Aegon the Conqueror. There’s also this,” and at this, Jon pulled his sword from the sheath on his belt, making sure the tip was aimed at the ground, he held it out, close enough that the two princes could read the name engraved on the Valyrian steel blade.

“Blackfyre,” Oberyn said, as Aegon repeating Jon’s actions, prompted Oberyn to add, “and Dark Sister.”

“There’s also the fact that we were just announced by Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Ser Gerold Hightower,” Aegon said. “Who you both were no doubt under the mistaken impression was dead.”

“He is very much alive, however,” Ser Barristan Selmy said, as he removed his own helmet. “Which is why I’ve ceded the title of Lord Commander to him, as it is his by right.”

“Ser Barristan,” Doran said. “I’d heard that you’d abandoned your post in King’s Landing and fled in the middle of the night.”

“It’s true, although that’s only because my true king bid me to return to his side,” Barristan said. “I was only in King’s Landing to begin with because the late Crown Prince Rhaegar asked me on his death bed to serve the Baratheons until such time that his son was old enough to press his claim.”

“His son?” Oberyn asked, a hint of anger creeping into his voice. “Rhaegar only had one son and he died as a baby. Murdered along with his sister and their mother, my dear sister Elia, by Gregor Clegane during the sack of King’s Landing, twenty years ago.”

“Incorrect on both counts,” Jon said. “Rhaegar actually had two sons. It’s just that he kept one of them a secret, just as he kept his second wife a secret. He loved your sister Elia to his dying day, but like many other Targaryens before him, there was room in his heart for the love of more than one person. He married Lyanna Stark, in secret, right here in Dorne a little over two years before he died.” Pulling out the marriage certificate and holding it out to Doran, he said, “Signed and dated by the then High Septon.”

“Pay close attention to the names of the witnesses,” Daenerys said.

Looking below the High Septon’s signature, Doran noted that four people had signed the certificate as witnesses to the ceremony. Ser Gerold Hightower, Ser Oswell Whent, Ser Arthur Dayne, and Princess Elia Targaryen.

“I can assure you that certificate is valid,” one of the other Kingsguard knights said, as he removed his helmet, to reveal Ser Arthur Dayne, commonly known as the Sword of the Morning. Who like Gerold Hightower was thought to be dead, but was now standing in front of them, clearly older, but still very much alive.

“As was the marriage,” the sole remaining Kingsguard said, as he too removed his helmet to reveal the also believed to be dead Ser Oswell Whent. “Princess Elia gave her blessing to the marriage.”

Doran and Oberyn shared a look, before Doran said, “So I take it you’re Rhaegar’s son with Lyanna?”

Nodding, Jon said, “Yes, born just over a month before Elia gave birth to Aegon.”

Shaking his head, Doran said, “Elia’s Aegon is dead.”

“No, he’s not,” Aegon said. “Because I’m him. You honestly think my mother—your sister—was going to just stand by and do nothing when Aerys refused to allow her, my sister, and me to leave King’s Landing for the safety of Dragonstone? She knew better than to openly defy him, as he was mad enough by that point that being his son’s wife didn’t mean anything. So she secured help from Varys, who was tasked to find lookalikes for me and Rhaenys to replace us. He’d only succeeded in finding one for me before the sack, however. I was smuggled out of the city by his little birds and it was the lookalike who died in my place.”

“Viserion has bonded with Aegon,” Daenerys said. “He wouldn’t have done that if Aegon didn’t have Targaryen blood.”

“He probably does,” Oberyn said. “But it’s not Rhaegar’s. He’s probably just a spawn from the female line of the Blackfyres.”

Both princes desperately wanted to believe that the young man standing in front of them was really Aegon Targaryen, their dear sister’s only son. But neither of them was willing to risk the heartache that would bring when it inevitably came out that he wasn’t. And they were both sure that it would.

“I’m not a Blackfyre,” Aegon said. “I’m a true blood Targaryen. Don’t believe me if you want, but I am your nephew. Not believing it won’t change that fact.” After a moment of silence, Aegon said, “Maybe this will convince you,” before he began humming the melody of a lullaby that he’d always had memories of, despite being only a year old when he stopped hearing it.

It had been hummed or played for him several times a day, near every day for almost half a year, however, so it stuck in his mind. Aegon knew it was a longshot that Doran or Oberyn would recognize it, but he figured it didn’t hurt to try.

He was only a few chords into the song when Oberyn asked, “Where did you hear that song?”

“I don’t really know,” Aegon answered. “It’s been stuck in my head as long as I can remember.”

Noticing the look on his brother’s face, Doran asked, “Oberyn, what is it?”

“It sounds like…” Oberyn hesitated for a moment, as Aegon continued humming. After a moment, Oberyn nodded and said, “Yes, it’s definitely it.”

“It’s definitely what?”

“You wouldn’t recognize it, Doran,” Oberyn said. “You never heard it, but Rhaegar composed it on his harp. You remember he wrote Rhaenys her own lullaby?” Doran nodded. “Well, he did the same for Aegon. Neither one was ever played publicly. Only for their intended recipients, his children, Elia, and family members. That song he’s humming is Aegon’s lullaby.”

“You’re sure?” Doran asked. Oberyn nodded. “And you’re sure nobody else could know the melody?”

“I’m sure,” Oberyn answered. “The time Rhaegar played it for me, he said he would never play either tune for anyone who wasn’t family. He’d written them solely for his children and nobody else. He made exceptions for Elia, as their mother, and me because Elia and I were always close as children, but there’s no doubt in my mind. That song is the one Rhaegar wrote for Aegon.”

Standing up and invading the young man’s personal space, Oberyn really looked at him, scrutinizing every inch of his face. It had always been harder for him to see Elia in Aegon, as unlike Rhaenys who’d taken after her mother and who undoubtedly would have grown up into a true Dornish beauty just like her mother, Aegon had taken after his father. Finally, however, Oberyn noted the curve of Aegon’s nose, the one feature that despite his Valyrian coloring, had most closely resembled his dear, sweet Elia.

“Oh my Gods,” Oberyn said, as he pulled Aegon into a tight hug that nearly cut off his air supply. “It really is you, my dear, sweet Elia’s precious baby boy.”

While the others had talked, Viserion had flown over to the edge of one of the many ponds in the garden, where he, along with his brothers, played and drank. Now, however, sensing his master’s predicament, he flew over and landing upon Aegon’s head he let out a small growl, followed by a puff of smoke.

This got Oberyn’s attention and made him let go of his nephew. Looking the little dragon square in the eyes, Oberyn said, “Viserion, was it? I don’t mean him any harm. I’m just so happy to see my sister’s son alive and all grown up, when I thought he was dead.”

Viserion cocked his head, listening to Oberyn and after a moment, bobbed his head up and down, as he moved down to Aegon’s shoulder and curled up on it. Aegon smiled as the little dragon curled its tail around the back of his neck, its head nestled just left of his Adam’s apple. Grinning, he said, “Well, I think you passed the Viserion test,” hesitating for a moment, he then added, “uncle.”

After a moment of silence, Doran cleared his throat and asked, “You’re sure about this, brother? This is really Elia’s son?”

“Yes, Doran, I’m sure,” Oberyn said. “Our nephew is alive and all grown up.”

After a few minutes of joyful reunion between Doran, Oberon, and Aegon, the group settled in for a chat. “So, you’re betrothed to Jaeherys?” Doran asked. “A male?”

Nodding, Aegon said, “Yes, Uncle Doran. We’re both bearers, so heirs won’t be a problem.”

“I’m also betrothed to my cousin, Robb Stark,” Jon revealed. “The new Lord of Winterfell. We’ve been together for nearly six years now and he’s also a bearer himself. The marriage with Aegon is more political at this point, although I’m open to the possibility of more in the future.” Grinning at the silver-blond-haired man, he added, “He just has to successfully court me first.”

“So you intend to take two spouses?” Oberyn asked. “And marry your half-brother? You’re definitely a Targaryen. Not saying that’s a bad thing, mind you.”

“The Faith of the Seven, however, is unlikely to share that opinion,” Doran said.

“True,” Jon agreed. “Although, raised in the North, I was raised in the worship of the Old Gods, not the Seven, so I’m not particularly worried. Besides that, other than Rhaegal, I’ve got two full-size adult dragons on my side. So, I doubt the High Septon will complain too much.”

Since Theron and Morrigan were not present for a demonstration, Jon, Aegon, and Daenerys agreed that they would refrain from sharing the fact that they could turn into dragons. In fact, beyond those who were already aware of it and sworn to secrecy, it was decided to not tell anyone. Knowing just how powerful Theron and Morrigan actually were would make them extremely high value targets. As dragons, it could be argued that they already were, but if people knew that they were actually just mages who could shapeshift into dragons, then the chance of somebody trying to assassinate them in their non-dragon form increased.

“True enough,” Doran agreed. “I suppose I can’t see the High Septon complaining too much in the face of a dragon. Very few people were willing to tell Aegon I or Maegor I that they couldn’t take more than one wife while Balerion was still alive.”

Shaking his head, Doran said, “Anyway, I suppose you’re here in order to ask for Dorne’s help to put you on the Iron Throne?”

“Yes, that is my intent,” Jon agreed. “Although, I also believed that you had every right to know about Aegon.”

“I’m grateful that you’ve returned him to us,” Doran said. “And, of course, I’d be willing to ally with you, although I’ve already received other offers which I must give fair consideration. Though if you were to present better terms, I could more easily reject the other offers.”

“Well, as we’ve already established, I’m marrying Aegon,” Jon said. “Although I understand that many would not consider him to be a valid candidate to secure a marriage alliance between House Targaryen and House Martell since Aegon, despite his mother being a Martell, is a Targaryen himself.”

With a nod from Daenerys, Jon added, “I am, however, prepared to offer my Aunt Daenerys’s hand in marriage to the Martell of your choice, Prince Doran. I’d also be willing to consider a member of House Martell for the Kingsguard, as I have three open spots.”

Doran nodded, but remained silent. Oberyn, however, took this opportunity to say, “Trystane has expressed an interest in joining the Kingsguard, brother. And who better to guard our nephew and future royal nephew-in-law than another Martell?”

“True,” Doran agreed, with a hint of bitterness in his tone. “I doubt Mellario will agree, but then my wife gave up her right to dictate how I raise the children or rule Dorne when she moved back to her native Essos.”

Oberyn nodded. “She never did forgive you for sending Quentyn away to foster with the Yronwoods.”

“Indeed, she didn’t,” Doran agreed. “She was simply never able to get used to the culture difference between Dorne and Norvos. Oh well, I’m not going to worry about her.” Turning to Jon, he said, “As my brother said, my youngest son, Prince Trystane, has expressed an interest in the Kingsguard. He’s already been knighted and has performed well in the tourneys that he’s entered. Hasn’t actually won one yet, but then he is only eighteen, so he’s got time to hone his skills.”

“And training under some of the finest and most celebrated knights in the kingdoms certainly can’t hurt,” Oberyn added, with a nod to the four elder Kingsguard knights.

“I’d be willing to take him under my personal tutelage,” Arthur Dayne said.

Nodding, Doran said, “That would be most acceptable Ser Arthur,” as he liked the idea of his son being trained by the man that was widely believed to be the best swordsman in the realm. The fact that House Dayne was also a Dornish house didn’t hurt either.

“Daenerys will want to meet whichever suitors you have in mind,” Aegon said. “And whoever it ends up being must be able to accept and not fear Drogon.”

“Yes, I can see how that would be important,” Doran agreed, before they talked a bit more, before Doran ordered a raven sent to Sunspear telling Quentyn and Trystane to come to the Water Gardens, before ordering rooms be prepared for his guests.

Both Doran and Oberyn were insistent that the group stay for a few days at least, which all involved agreed to do because they could understand why Doran and Oberyn would want to spend some time with Aegon, considering that they’d spent the last twenty years thinking their nephew was dead. Besides it would also give Daenerys time to see if she and Quentyn meshed or not and if they could hammer out an alliance with Dorne and give Aegon a chance to get to know his mother’s family, then it would be time well spent.

-o-0-o-

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Through the Eluvian
By J.C. Vascardi

-o-0-o-

Act II, Part VII

-o-0-o-

Lady Olenna’s Solar, Castle of Highgarden, The Reach; 27 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

Willas and Garlan Tyrell were preparing to leave Highgarden when one of the stable hands reported that their grandmother wanted to see them before they left. While their Lord father had ordered them to join with Renly’s forces at Bitterbridge, they weren’t fool enough to blow off a meeting with their grandmother. Heading back into the castle and up to Lady Olenna’s private solar, they knocked and entered when told to do so.

Their always formidable grandmother was seated in a high-backed chair near the fireplace, which still being summer wasn’t lit.

“Sit down, both of you,” Olenna commanded, motioning to the chair across from her.

Willas and Garlan looked at each other for a moment, before Willas, as the eldest and having a bad leg sat down in the chair, while Garlan perched on the arm. There was a time when they were much younger and their grandmother summoned them to her solar that they could both sit in the chair side by side, but those days were long past.

“You asked to see us, grandmother?” Willas asked.

“Yes, I did,” Olenna said. “I’m going to ask that you do something and you’re probably not going to like it, but it is necessary.”

“What do you want us to do?” Garlan asked.

“Ignore my fool son’s orders,” Olenna answered, prompting her grandsons’ eyes to widen, as they looked first at each other and then back to their grandmother. “I know, I know, he’s the Lord of Highgarden. However, many times since your grandfather died and Mace became lord, he’s proven to me again and again just how much of an imbecile he truly is. And promising Margery’s hand in marriage to your brother’s lover and agreeing to support Renly’s weak claim to the Iron Throne not only takes the cake, it takes the whole god-damned bakery.”

“You think we should be supporting Stannis instead?” Willas asked.

“No, I don’t,” Olenna said. “Of all the possible candidates for the Iron Throne, there’s only one which I feel House Tyrell should put their support behind. And if your father was astute, which you both know as well as I do that he isn’t, he would have already put his support behind them. Instead, he’s intent on casting our lot with the losing side of this war by supporting a weak claimant who wouldn’t know his own arse from a hole in the ground.”

Garlan would have said that was a little harsh, considering that before all of this started, Renly Baratheon had been the Master of Laws under King Robert, but he honestly couldn’t bring himself to say it, given what he knew of the man.

Because of the fact that Loras and Renly were shagging, Garlan knew Renly better than most. And while he could admit that Renly was a competent warrior and had plenty of charisma, he was still not impressed. How could he be?

His only real qualification for being the Master of Laws was that he’d been King Robert’s little brother. Most people were blinded by his friendly nature and charisma, but for those who knew him well, he made no secret of the fact that he despised reading and book learning. Both things would be preferable for the person in charge of laws and the legal system to not have an issue with. Loras had even confided in his older brothers that Renly thought that only maesters should read books.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Renly did like books… as long as they were short on words and heavy on scandalous drawings that would make a Septon go blind… as those were the only books that Renly owned and actually enjoyed.

“I take it then that you mean to support the northern bastard.”

“If what my spies tell me is true, he’s not a bastard, Garlan,” Olenna said. “He’s the trueborn son and rightful heir of the late Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen.”

“Are you sure it’s wise to support a Targaryen?” Willas asked. “The last one was a raving madman.”

Olenna nodded to Willas. “True, but by all reports, Jaeherys Targaryen, formerly known as Jon Snow is as sane as you or I. As for whether or not it’s wise for us to support him, have you forgotten the history of our house? It was the Targaryens who put us in charge of the Reach, after the destruction of House Gardener.”

When both of her grandsons remained silent, Olenna added, “Just think about it boys, which side of this war do you really want to be on? Renly’s? Or the man who commands at least two full-grown dragons, and a rumored third?”

“Well, I admit that the dragons certainly give me pause,” Garlan said. “Nobody else can claim to have dragons and they do tend to even the odds.”

“And his odds are pretty good even without the dragons,” Willas said, as he thought about it seriously. “He pretty much has the guaranteed support of the North due to his engagement to Lord Robb Stark… which also gives him a connection through marriage that could see him gaining the support of both the Vale and the Riverlands.”

“Indeed, and according to my spies, he’s currently in Dorne as we speak,” Olenna revealed. “It would seem that his Aunt Daenerys has returned from Essos, with three more baby dragons by the way. It would seem that they’re currently engaged in negotiations for a marriage alliance with House Martell.”

“A Targaryen-Stark-Tully-Arryn-Martell alliance would be hard to beat,” Garlan said. “Add the dragons and he does have a formidable force behind him.”

“Indeed,” Willas said. “So, what exactly is your plan, grandmother?”

“The men under your command are loyal to you, correct?” Olenna asked. “They’ll follow where you lead them?”

“Yes, for the most part,” Willas answered. “Some of them might take issue with the idea of going against father’s orders, but since his orders aren’t issued directly to them, but to us to disseminate, we can fairly easily claim that we’ve been given a different mission.”

“And they’re far less likely to question us since our father is the Lord of the Reach,” Garlan added. “So, if he’s going to trust anyone with any kind of secret mission or mission that differs from what is given to the rank and file, it’s more likely to be us.”

“Good,” Olenna said. “Good. So what I want you to do is this…”

-o-0-o-

Guest Suite, Water Gardens, Dorne; 27 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

Meanwhile, Jon, Aegon, and Daenerys were gathered in the sitting room of the suite they’d been given at the Water Gardens. It was a three-bedroom suite of rooms, that were all connected by a central sitting room. There was also a balcony overlooking one of the many gardens.

They’d just arrived back to their rooms to rest and freshen up after having breakfast with Doran and Oberyn. Joining them were Oberyn’s paramour Ellaria, and Princess Arianne, and Princes Quentyn and Trystane, who’d all arrived from Sunspear late last night after being sent for by Doran upon concluding the initial meeting with the three Targaryens.

“Well, if this morning was anything to go by,” Daenerys said, “If it’s still your intention to fulfill Trystane’s desire to join the Kingsguard, I think if a Targaryen-Martell marriage is going to happen, it’ll have to be between Oberyn and me.”

Jon nodded. “Yes, Quentyn did not seem comfortable around Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion.”

Shaking his head, Aegon said, “I think that’s an understatement, Jae. He practically jumped out of his skin every time they moved.”

Nodding her head, Daenerys said, “Yes, and the dragons didn’t seem to care for him much either. None of them seemed to want to go near him, but Drogon most of all.”

“He does seem to have taken a liking to Oberyn and Ellaria though,” Jon noted. “Any thoughts on them?”

“Oberyn is attractive,” Daenerys said after a few moments of quiet contemplation. “I’d say more so than Quentyn, to be honest. As for Trystane, I know we’re the same age, but he looks younger than he actually is.” Shaking her head she added, “So, it’s probably a good thing that he wants to join the Kingsguard because I don’t think I could marry him. I’d feel like I was robbing a cradle.”

“Very true,” Aegon said. “Honestly, even though he’s eighteen, he looks more of an age with Bran and Tommen then he does you, Aunt Dany.”

“Aegon, please, just call me Dany. The whole aunt thing doesn’t work for me, not coming from my nephew who's nearly two years older than me.”

Aegon nodded. “Okay then. Honestly, it does seem a bit strange to me as well. Maybe we could just think of each other like siblings instead of nephews and aunt?”

Daenerys smiled. “I think I’d prefer that.”

Nobody said anything else, because it was at that moment that a raven flew into the room through the open balcony doors. A moment later, there was a momentary puff of black smoke and a few quick arcs of lightning as the raven grew into Theron.

Jon smiled as he stood from his chair and gave Theron a quick kiss on the cheek in greeting. Jon, Robb, and Aegon had all grown closer to Theron on their trip east to collect Daenerys and since their return to the Stepstones, they’d talked and decided to give the four of them a go.

Aegon and Theron were still in the early stages of courtship with both each other and with Jon and Robb, but all four of them were interested in seeing if something more could develop.

As Jon sat down, Theron took the empty chair between him and Aegon, as the latter leaned over and pressed a quick kiss of his own to Theron’s other cheek.

“Robb sends his greetings,” Theron said. “He wanted to come himself, but he also wanted to spend some quality time with Sansa and Bran, after having not seen them for several months now. Plus, they’re both understandably upset since Joffrey forced them to watch Eddard’s execution. So they needed some time together as a family.”

Shaking his head, Jon said, “That demonic little shit is going to wish he had never been born.”

“Yes, Robb said pretty much the same,” Theron said. “By combining his house words with yours.”

“Really?” Aegon asked.

Nodding, Theron said, “Yes, his exact words were ‘winter is coming for you Joffrey, and it’ll be filled with fire and blood.’”

“I approve,” Aegon said, as Daenerys nodded, and Jon said, “I knew there was a reason I loved that man, other than him being drop-dead gorgeous, that is.”

Aegon and Theron smiled and agreed that Robb was very easy on the eyes. Even Daenerys agreed, although less enthusiastically than the boys since she knew that Robb only had eyes for males. Mostly for Jon, although he was quickly warming to Aegon and Theron.

“So what brings you to Dorne, Theron?” Jon asked.

“Just thought I’d drop in and give you a status update,” Theron said. “A raven arrived from Winterfell. Maester Luwin wanted you to know that Eddard’s remains have arrived and that he’ll make all the necessary arrangements for a service to be held as soon as the family can get up to Winterfell.”

“Well, we’ll have to get there soon then,” Jon said. “Anything else?”

Theron nodded. “Yes, we also received a raven from Castle Black. From Maester Aemon.”

“Hmm,” Jon said. “I suppose we probably should go up to the Wall and see him. He is family after all.”

“Indeed,” Aegon said. “I know that Maesters and members of the Night’s Watch are supposed to abandon their surnames, but as the oldest living Targaryen, he is essentially our family patriarch now.”

“Yes, apparently Maester Luwin contacted him,” Theron said. “Thought he had the right to know about the return of dragons and that a Targaryen is massing an army to retake the Iron Throne.”

As the others nodded in agreement, Theron added, “Speaking of maesters, a representative from the Citadel arrived at Bloodstone this morning. An archmaester named Marwyn.”

“I’ve heard tales about him,” Jon said. “He’s known as Marwyn the Mage. I guess it’s no surprise that he came to Bloodstone since I have several mages in my employ.”

“He actually didn’t know about the other mages and I,” Theron said. “It was the rumors of dragons being back that got him to come to investigate. He seemed upset that he couldn’t see the dragons himself but agreed to wait at Bloodstone for your return. Morrigan and I opted not to tell him about our shapeshifting abilities for the time being.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Aegon said. “Unless he proves himself trustworthy, it’s probably something that as few people as possible should know about. Harry and I have already sworn the Golden Company to silence on the matter.”

“And I’ve done the same with my khalasar,” Daenerys added.

Placing a hand on his temple, Theron closed his eyes for a few moments, making Daenerys tilt her head and ask, “Is he okay?”

“Yes, it’s probably the voices of the well talking to him,” Aegon answered before he and Jon explained to her about the Vir’Abelasan and how Theron occasionally heard the voices of the past high priests and priestesses of Mythal speaking in his head.

After a few minutes of silence, Theron opened his eyes and said, “Actually that wasn’t the priests. That was Mythal herself. Or Flemeth, I suppose.”

“She can speak to you too?” Aegon asked.

“So it would seem,” Theron answered. “She was just sharing some dragon lore and information about Valyria with me.”

“How would a witch from another continent know anything about Valyria?” Daenerys asked.

“Because she lived there for about a decade,” Theron answered. “About fifty years before the Doom.”

“What? How is that possible?” Aegon asked. “The Doom was over a century before Aegon’s Conquest.”

“True,” Theron said. “It was in 5:23 Exalted by the Thedosian calendar, which is 102 BC in Westeros.”

“But how could she possibly be alive fifty years before that?” Daenerys asked before she cocked her head and asked, “And how exactly does this Thedosian calendar work, by the way?”

“Well, she did say that she was a very old, old woman when Robb and I first met her,” Jon said. “Although I didn’t realize she was that old.”

“She’s definitely that,” Theron said. “Considering that Flemeth, as a mortal woman before she became the Vessel of Mythal was born in 3:00 Towers. Or 325 BC.”

“That means she’s 623 years old!” Aegon exclaimed after a moment, as he did the math in his head.

“Well, I guess her description of herself definitely fits,” Jon said.

Theron nodded. “Indeed. Anyway, Daenerys, Thedas uses a system of ages. Currently, it’s 9:42 Dragon back home. So, the Ninth Age, called the Dragon Age, and the 43^rd year.”

“43^rd year?” Aegon asked.

“Yes, many people get that confused,” Theron explained. “Even those of us who are used to the calendar mess it up from time to time. But, even though numerically it is 9:42, it is technically the 43^rd year of the age, because there are a hundred years in each age that are numbered from 0 to 99. So we count 0 as a year, so 9:99 Dragon would be the 100^th and final year of the Dragon Age. At which point, whoever the Divine of the Chantry is at that time will name the next age.”

“So what were the names of the other ages, just out of curiosity?” Aegon asked.

“In order, they’re the Divine, Glory, Towers, Black, Exalted, Steel, Storm, and Dragon Ages. Everything before the Divine Age is represented in negative numbers and referred to as the Ancient Age. It’s the one and only age that has more than a hundred years in it, as it stretches back thousands of years.”

“How are these ages named exactly?” Jon asked. “I mean I understand that the head of the Thedosian Church names them, but where do they come up with the names?”

“The Divine picks them based on some significant event or portent that happened prior to the start of each age,” Theron answered. “The Divine Age was so named because the very first Divine of the Chantry, Justinia I, was installed at the as yet unfinished Grand Cathedral in Val Royeaux, the capital city of the Empire of Orlais. Glory was named by Divine Hortensia I, who predicted an age of grand rebirth following the end of the Second Blight in 1:95.”

Pouring himself a glass of wine from the bottle on the nearby end table, Theron took a drink, before he said, “The Grand Cathedral, which featured two towers that could be seen for miles around, was completed in 2:99 Glory, leading to the Towers Age. Late in that age, there was a schism in the Chantry which led to the Tevinter Imperium electing their own Divine, known in every country in Thedas other than Tevinter itself as the Black Divine. So, when Divine Joyous II died in 3:99 Towers, the Black Divine declared a holiday and the entire Tevinter Imperium celebrated her death, leading to the Black Age.”

“What was the cause of this schism?” Aegon asked.

“A difference of opinion in regards to magic,” Theron said. “All the way back in the very beginning of the Divine Age the use of magic was declared illegal in Orlais by anyone who wasn’t using it under the auspices of the Chantry. As the Chantry’s influence spread to other countries, so too did the magic ban.”

At the confused looks, Theron added, “Throughout Thedas there are several Circles of Magi. Which are what some would call homes for mages, while others would call prisons. Essentially, every child who is discovered to have magic is taken from their parents the moment that their magic is discovered and they’re then raised in one of the Circles, under the watchful eyes of the Templar Order. They’re an order of knights that serve the Chantry and have the ability to nullify a mage’s powers, usually temporarily.”

“Usually?” Daenerys asked.

“There is a ritual known as the Rite of Tranquility,” Theron said. “When performed on a mage, they’re branded with the Chantry’s sunburst logo on their forehead. It cuts off their access to the Beyond, or what the Chantry calls the Fade, which takes away their ability to dream, use magic, or to feel any kind of emotion.”

“That seems rather, well, barbaric,” Aegon said.

“As a mage, I’m inclined to agree,” Theron said. “Anyway, the Imperial Chantry in Tevinter allows free use of magic throughout the Imperium, as they don’t agree with one of the main tenets of Chantry policy, which is that magic is meant to serve man, but never to rule over him. In Tevinter, the entire government is run by mages and having magic is a prerequisite to basically any position of authority or power.”

“Ah, so were you in one those circles before coming here?” Jon asked.

Shaking his head, Theron said, “No, the very first time I set foot in one of the Circles was during the Fifth Blight in Ferelden. I had an old Grey Warden treaty promising the Circle’s help with the Blight that I had to enforce. Prior to that, I was the First of Clan Sabrae, one of the many clans of Dalish Elves who wander Thedas, seeking to regain the lost knowledge and lore of the Elvhenan. The Dalish also reject the idea that we should be subservient to humanity, or live in poverty in their slums as second or third class citizens and treated like veritable slaves.”

“That sounds horrible,” Daenerys said.

“Well, I’m sure it is for those elves who actually live in the human cities,” Theron said. “For me, I grew up with my clan and I enjoyed life. In case you’re wondering, each clan is headed by a wise and learned elf known as the Keeper. The First is their apprentice, who will one day become Keeper themselves, upon the death of the previous Keeper. That would have been my life if I hadn’t ended up joining the Grey Wardens.”

Taking a sip of his wine, Theron said, “Anyway, the other ages. There were several Exalted Marches, otherwise known as holy wars, against Tevinter during the Black Age including one that was still ongoing in 4:99 Black, leading Divine Justinia II to name the Exalted Age. The Exalted Marches against Tevinter finally ended in 5:12 Exalted with the outbreak of the Fourth Blight in Antiva, which ended in 5:24 Exalted with the death of the Archdemon Andoral at the hands of an elven Grey Warden named Garahel. And before you ask, no that didn’t make humanity treat elves any better.”

Shaking their heads at the continued injustices that were apparently commonplace for the elves in Thedas, Jon, Aegon, and Daenerys motioned for Theron to continue.

“5:99 Exalted saw Queen Madrigal of Antiva assassinated, her body being found with four steel swords plunged into her chest, leading to the Steel Age. The next age was named the Storm Age as Divine Hortensia III foresaw a growing storm of violence across Thedas.”

“The Blessed Age was so named as the Divine foresaw an age of bounty and prosperity for Thedas following the birth of twin sons to the then Emperor of Orlais. Due to a prolonged period of the Emperor having no children, there were worries of an impending civil war between claimants to the throne upon his death, but the birth of his sons put that worry to rest.”

“And the Dragon Age?” Daenerys asked. “What prompted that name?”

“Just as they were here, dragons were long assumed to be extinct in Thedas,” Theron answered. “At least until they reemerged, first in Antiva, and then devastating sections of rural Nevarra and Orlais, and another one being spotted on the Orlesian side of the Frostback Mountains between Orlais and Ferelden. The Divine had been ready to declare the Sun Age, but with so many dragon sightings, opted instead for the Dragon Age.”

“Are there many dragons in Thedas?” Aegon asked.

“I couldn’t even begin to tell you how many there are,” Theron answered, slightly uncomfortably considering that he’d actually killed one in the past. Two, technically, if one counted the High Dragon at the Temple of the Sacred Ashes and Flemeth, not that the latter actually died. “Although there are absolutely no dragonriders in Thedas. All of the Thedosian dragons are wild beasts that cannot be controlled and will attack and kill anyone who gets too close. There are also some notable differences between Thedosian dragons and the ones on this side of the world.”

“Like what?” Daenerys asked.

“Well, here dragons are all essentially hermaphrodites,” Theron answered. “In that, they can spontaneously change their sex based on their environment. In Thedas, that isn’t the case. All dragons, as they’d be recognized here in Westeros and Essos, are female. The males are called drakes, are less than half the size of the females and can’t fly because they never grow wings.”

“Hmm, yes, that would definitely be quite a difference,” Daenerys agreed. “All of my dragons were born male, although I imagine once they’re older, at least one of them will probably change their sex to female so that they can lay at least one clutch of new eggs.”

Nodding, Theron said, “Yes, that’s probably true. Another difference that’s immediately apparent in Thedosian dragons is that they don’t all exclusively breathe fire.”

“A dragon that doesn’t breathe fire?” Aegon asked, his tone suggesting that he was having a hard time believing or even imagining that.

“Yeah, I know it seems hard to believe, but it’s true,” Theron said. “There’s several different breeds of dragon in Thedas, which differ not only in the color of their scales but also in other ways, like the shape of their heads and bodies. The Fereldan Frostback, Abyssal High Dragon, Sandy Howler, and Highland Ravager breeds all breathe fire like the ones you’re used to.”

“And the others?” Jon asked.

Theron smiled. “The Greater Mistral, Hivernal, and the Kaltenzahn breeds all breathe ice. Meanwhile, the Northern Hunter, Gamordan Stormrider, and Vinsomer breeds breathe lightning. While she didn’t name them, Flemeth did say there were a few breeds from further north or west in Thedas then I’ve ever been that breathe acid or poison.”

“Wow,” Daenerys said, as Aegon and Jon nodded, “And I thought that Thedosian dragons being exclusively female was a big difference.” Shaking her head, she said, “So, what bits of Valyrian lore did Flemeth share with you?”

“Well, apparently the Valyrians sometimes made use of an item called a dragon horn to control their dragons. They’re carved from the horns of a dead dragon and bound with red gold and Valyrian steel, with Valyrian glyphs engraved upon them.”

“Does that mean we’ll need one of these horns in order to control Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion?” Aegon asked.

Shaking his head, Theron said, “No, we won’t. Flemeth taught me some spells which will allow for more direct control of them without a dragon horn. Which is a good thing because no mortal person can sound one of them and survive. When blown they burn red hot and will burn the lungs of the person who blew it to ash, killing them.”

“Well, it’s good that we don’t need one of those horns,” Jon said. “We’re going to need all the help we can get to take the Iron Throne and I really would rather not go around killing my future subjects if it can be avoided.”

 “Quite,” Theron said. “Thankfully, the spells that Flemeth taught me will also make Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion immune to the control of a dragon horn, even if somebody were to find one. The spells will, however, bind the dragons to their rider’s will so that while they’ll still retain their free will most of the time, they’ll have no choice but to obey if given an order by their rider.”

“Well, at least I needn’t worry about anyone stealing my children away,” Daenerys said, who couldn’t help but worry what would happen if somebody found one of those horns somewhere. She didn’t know if any had survived the Doom, but it was still an issue that had worried her as soon as Theron mentioned it.

“Yes, good to have one less thing to worry about,” Aegon said. “It’s also probably a good safety measure, as they might be babies now but they will grow up and reach a point where they make us look tiny by comparison. Having the means to keep them from attacking innocent people is a good thing.”

“Yes,” Theron agreed. “Flemeth said that I should cast the spells to bind the three of you to your respective dragons as soon as possible, although we’ll have to wait until you return to Bloodstone as I’ll need the others to help me cast these particular spells, as they require more power than I can put into them myself.”

Turning to Daenerys, he added, “She said that they’ll still recognize you as their mother, Daenerys, and will be protective of you as a result, but Rhaegal and Viserion will be bound to Jon’s and Aegon’s wills respectively once the spells are cast. So, any orders they give them will countermand anything you tell them. You will, of course, still have Drogon.”

Daenerys nodded. “I understand. While I would prefer that they retain their free will, I can understand why it would be dangerous for them to do so.”

“Yes,” Theron said. “According to Flemeth, your ancestors didn’t have the spells she taught me as they were developed by the Evanuris, aka the Old Gods of the Forest, and the Valyrians didn’t worship the Evanuris. This is why once Westeros was conquered, the Dragonpit was built and the dragons were put into it. It gave your ancestors control over them and kept them from rampaging and pillaging the city and surrounding countryside whenever they pleased.”

“Didn’t you say that the Dragonpit was partially to blame for the death of the dragons?” Jon asked.

Nodding, Theron said, “Yes. Dragons need to be able to fly free and can breathe better at higher altitudes. So being stuck in the Dragonpit did not do their health any favors, which is why none of the pit dragons ever reached the size that Balerion did, for example. Of course, Flemeth also told me that there were other reasons beyond just the pit that the dragons died the first time.”

“Did she share them?” Aegon asked.

“Yes. The primary reason was the Targaryen civil war known as the Dance of the Dragons. Many of the dragons died during it, killed by dragons on the opposing side of the conflict. Flemeth did share with me a means of preventing that from happening again.”

“Oh? Do tell,” Jon said.

Theron smiled. “Once this war is over and you’re sitting on the Iron Throne as the undisputed King of the Seven Kingdoms, she taught me a further binding spell which will bind the dragons to the Iron Throne. They’ll still be bound to the individual riders, but you’ll be able to overrule the riders should they attempt to use their dragon against the Seven Kingdoms or to harm its people.”

Pausing for a moment, Theron added, “The binding to the throne is permanent once cast, and will automatically switch to the next monarch after Jon eventually passes away. Thus, the binding can essentially be used to settle any inheritance claims because whoever has control over the dragons is the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“So, I assume this binding will prevent the dragons from being able to go wild if their bound riders die?” Aegon asked.

Theron nodded. “Yes. Even if their bound rider dies, they’ll remain bound to the throne and the monarch, so they won’t be completely without direction between riders. So no need to worry about a wild dragon burning down half of King’s Landing without a rider to stop them.”

“Well, that sounds like a good failsafe,” Daenerys said.

Jon, Aegon, and Theron nodded in unison, before the latter said, “There were two other reasons that the dragons went extinct the last time. One being their breeding pool was too small, as, by the time they went extinct, almost every single Targaryen dragon was a direct descendant of Balerion, Vhagar, and Meraxes. According to Flemeth, repeated breeding between their descendants made them grow weaker over time.”

“Did she tell you how we could avoid that?” Aegon asked.

“Yes, seek out and hatch as many dragon eggs as possible,” Theron said. “And not just here in Westeros, but any that can be found abroad as well. She also suggested that you not keep dragons strictly for Targaryens only, but to also allow the Velaryons, the Celtigars, and the Great Houses of Westeros access to dragons.”

“She thinks we should share the power of dragons?” Daenerys asked.

“Indeed, she does,” Theron answered. “She said that’s precisely why the Valyrian Freehold existed for as long as it did and why their dragons remained strong and numerous. Of the forty noble families of Valyria, half of them were dragonlord houses. Apparently, even though many of the dragonlords were rivals, that rivalry did not extend to mating their dragons. It seems they made sure through detailed records that their dragons never mated too closely to affect their health.”

Taking another a sip of his wine, Theron said, “Flemeth says if you keep the dragons limited to House Targaryen only, it’ll be impossible to keep a large enough stable of dragons to ensure their health isn’t negatively affected like it was the last time and even if it takes two hundred years, you’ll just be dooming them to extinction all over again.”

“Well, we can just hatch dragons and bind them to the throne without riders, right?”

Shaking his head negatively at Daenerys’s question, he said, “They have to be bound to their first rider before they can be bound to the throne, so for every dragon hatched, a rider is needed.”

Looking over at Jon with a grin, Theron added, “So unless you intend to have a hundred or more children, you’re going to need people outside of House Targaryen to become riders.”

“Yeah, definitely not planning on having that many,” Jon said, as he looked a little green at the thought of having a hundred children. “House Targaryen may be dangerously close to extinction, but I have no intention of even trying to single-handedly save it from that state.”

“Understandable,” Theron said. “On a similar note, she also cautioned against engaging in too many incestuous marriages between siblings or other close relations. She said doing that too often can lead to physical and mental issues, including poor health and madness, both of which I’m told the Targaryens have had issues with in the past.”

Sitting up straighter, Aegon said, “Does that mean that I can’t marry Jon?”

Theron shook his head and said, “No, you two can still get married. Flemeth says that because you’re only half-brothers, it isn’t as bad as if you were full brothers and shared both parents. She did caution, however, against allowing your children to marry each other. The fact that Rhaegar brought new blood into the family with Elia and Lyanna was a good thing, so she strongly suggests that you make sure that your children and if possible your grandchildren do the same by not marrying within the Targaryen family.”

“But won’t that weaken our dragon blood?” Daenerys asked.

“No, it won’t,” Theron answered. “Flemeth says that there’s really no such thing as dragon blood. At least when it comes to humans or elves, or any other non-dragon species. Dragons have dragon blood, but humans have human blood. What actually allows humans and other races to bond with and control dragons, assuming a fire-breathing dragon, is having magical blood that favors elemental fire.”

Theron could see the war of emotions on the three faces around him, especially for Daenerys who’d grown up with Viserys telling her about dragon blood and how the Targaryens could control dragons because they were dragons.

“It just so happens that most of the Old Valyrian families like the Targaryens, Velaryons, Celtigars, and the dragonlord families of old have fire-oriented magical blood that was often mislabeled as dragon blood. Probably because some Valyrian a few thousand years ago liked the idea of tying themselves closer to their dragons, so with some well-placed rumors and gossip, the rest is history. They’re not the only families that have magical blood, however.”

“They’re not?” Jon asked.

“No, Jon. Case in point, the Starks also have magical blood. As do the Baratheons and any other family line that has ever married somebody of Valyrian, Rhoynish, or First Men descent. Here in Westeros, it’s only those of pure Andal descent that wouldn’t normally have magical blood, although, after thousands of years of interbreeding between the various families, Flemeth said it’s highly unlikely there’s anyone left who can claim one hundred percent pure Andal descent.”

“I’m sure there’s plenty of families who would dispute that,” Jon said.

“Oh without a doubt,” Theron agreed. “But for most, if not all of those families, while they may remain culturally Andal, that’s all they really are. So while it may be true that historically the Andals hated and feared magic, one’s culture has absolutely nothing to do with bloodline and the Andal families would have died out centuries ago if they didn’t mate with the families of First Men, Valyrian, and Rhoynish descent.”

“The Starks have never had magic as far as I know,” Jon said.

“Haven’t they?” Theron asked as he raised a brow at Jon. “And what exactly do you call the fact that almost every Stark male since time immemorial has been a bearer, Jon? Males being able to both sire and bear children is a magical ability, so any confirmed bearer is guaranteed to have magical blood.”

“So, that means,” Jon hesitated for a moment, before he said, “That Robb, Bran, Rickon, and myself and our Uncle Benjen all have magical blood?”

Nodding, Theron said, “Yes. It also means that had they been so inclined your late uncles, Brandon and Eddard, could have borne children as well. Of course, just being a bearer means nothing if you don’t lie with other men since a male bearer can only bear children if another male sires them on them.”

“So what about Sansa and Arya?” Jon asked.

“No clue,” Theron said. “As they’re both girls, they obviously aren’t bearers in the same way that you, your cousins, and uncle are. They can naturally bear children, of course, but they can’t sire them. Although being able to bond with direwolves could be a sign of magical blood, as direwolves themselves are magical creatures who generally do not take to mundane creatures, let alone form bonds as deep as you and your cousins seem to have with them.”

“So, could the Starks or the Targaryens or any of the others ever produce mages like you, Garrett, Max, Vivienne, Morrigan, and her son?”

Theron looked speculative for a moment before he addressed Aegon’s question. “It’s hard to say but I wouldn’t say it’s entirely outside of the realm of possibility. The fact that the Starks have managed to consistently hang on to the bearer ability despite the Dragonlord’s Curse which would have likely wiped it out if that was the only magic that they possessed would suggest it’s possible.”

Finishing the last of his wine, Theron sat the glass aside and added, “As for the Targaryens, I don’t know, as I don’t really know enough about what powers they might have had in the past, beyond the ability to control dragons.”

“With the Curse breaking down now, does that mean they could?” Jon asked.

“Are you asking if you and Aegon could ever be full-fledged mages?” Theron asked, prompting Jon to nod.

“Flemeth didn’t say,” Theron responded. “Although, again, she stressed that it would be in our best interests to seek out and hatch more dragon eggs. As many as possible, as doing so will break down what remains of the Curse faster than it’ll break on its own.”

“It’s already lost the ability to affect new people, right?” Daenerys asked, causing Theron to nod. “So, how exactly does hatching more eggs help us?”

“By breaking down the remains of the Curse faster,” Theron said. “As it stands, while it can’t affect new people or anyone born after the dragons, it is still in effect and will remain so for decades to come, unless dragons make a serious and resounding comeback. As for what that would do? It would strengthen the chances of mages being born to those families with magical blood and likely also make their magic stronger.”

“Of course, the priests are telling me that bonding with a dragon has been known to provide a power boost to the rider,” Theron added. “Basically as the dragon grows in power, so too does their bonded rider. Although they caution that it doesn’t always translate to magic ability. Sometimes it can manifest instead as increased strength, dexterity, intelligence, or overall health and endurance.”

“Interesting,” Aegon said. “So, what was the other reason that Flemeth gave you for the extinction of the dragons? You said there were two and that the close breeding was one. So what was the other?”

Theron sighed. “The Maesters of the Citadel.”

Now it was Jon’s turn to sit up straighter as he asked, “What?”

“It’s not all of them,” Theron was quick to say. “Although Flemeth said that there is a faction within the Citadel who would prefer to completely eliminate magic from the world, or from Westeros at the very least. So they were happy when they found records of the Valyrian Dragonlord’s Curse. Any records of which they promptly made disappear here in Westeros and wherever they could abroad without risk to themselves.”

“So what did they do with this information?” Jon asked.

 “They then began to nudge events to cause the Dance of the Dragons,” Theron answered. “Then after the war had taken care of most of the dragons, they began poisoning those remaining or any known eggs, so that any dragons born would be sickly and deformed.”

“You mean they were actually trying to make dragons go extinct?” Aegon asked, looking both shocked and angry. “In order to enact the Dragonlord’s Curse?”

“Yes, they were,” Theron confirmed. “Thankfully, the faction inside the Citadel that holds these beliefs is small. Flemeth said it’s only about a fourth or less of the total number of maesters that have actively participated in or are aware of the plot. But, for those that have, enacting the Dragonlord’s Curse wasn’t the end goal.”

“What was?” Daenerys asked.

“Wiping out all magical blood,” Theron answered. “She said that in many of the families that have longstanding issues with infertility or numerous, repeated miscarriages or stillbirths, it’s because the family’s maester is in on the plot and the family was known to have strong magic before the Curse.”

“Are you saying that they’ve been poisoning people too?” Aegon asked.

Nodding, Theron said, “Yes, trying to wipe out magical families so that even if dragons ever did come back and the Curse broke, magic would still be gone. Thankfully, as I said, it’s a small faction. The majority of maesters would be horrified if they knew what some of their brethren were up to.”

“I can see why,” Jon said. “If this got out on a wide scale, there’d be calls to arrest every maester throughout the kingdom and destroy the Citadel.”

“Did Flemeth tell you which maesters are in on the plot?” Aegon asked.

Shaking his head, Theron said, “No, she didn’t see fit to provide me with a comprehensive list. She did, however, say that no maester who has even one Valyrian steel link in their chains is a member of the plot, as the maesters seeking to wipe out magic avoid anyone who shows any interest whatsoever in the higher mysteries, otherwise known as magic.”

“Well, at least we know that Maester Luwin isn’t involved,” Jon said. “Robb will be relieved. Although considering that only about one out of every hundred Maesters has a Valyrian steel link, it doesn’t narrow things down quite as far as I may like.”

Theron nodded. “Yes. That also means that Archmaester Marwyn isn’t involved either since he not only has several Valyrian steel links, but also the Valyrian steel rod, mask, and ring of an archmaester.”

“Indeed,” Jon said. He paused here, as silence fell over the room. Finally, he shook his head and said, “Well, we should probably go out to the gardens for a while and spend some time with our hosts. Did you want to join us, Theron?”

“No, I think I’m going to head back to Bloodstone,” Theron said. “This was supposed to be a quick trip to update you and I’ve already stayed longer than I intended. I have to gather the necessary components for the dragon binding spells and I’ve got a meeting with Bianca, Dagna, and the smiths, as there was something they wanted to show me. So, as much as I’d like to stay, I should go.”

“Okay then,” Jon said with a smile as he stood up and wrapped Theron in a hug, kissing him on the forehead, as he added, “Give Robb a kiss for me, will you?”

Theron grinned. “I think that can be arranged.”

Aegon stood up at this and approaching Theron from behind, wrapped his arms around both the elf and his half-brother, as he placed a gentle kiss on the tip of Theron’s left ear, which sent shivers of pleasure and lust down his spine as the tips of his ears were among his most erogenous zones… something which Tamlen had always taken great advantage of.

In fact, it was the memory of Tamlen kissing his ears that had prompted him to name his staff Tamlen’s Kiss.

Thankfully, before Theron could think too much about his lost love, Aegon said, “Give our sexy northern lord a kiss from me too.”

“Will do,” Theron said with a smile, as Daenerys just smiled and giggled at the boys’ actions.

-o-0-o-

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Through the Eluvian
By J.C. Vascardi

-o-0-o-

Act II, Part VIII

-o-0-o-

Lord Theron’s Solar, Bloodstone Fortress, The Stepstones; 15 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

The “war council” as Theron had called it wrapped up about half-an-hour after Robb had said that they should focus on threats in Westeros before turning their eyes towards Essos. It was at this point that Catelyn, Sansa, Myrcella, Bran, and Tommen left the room, with Catelyn showing them to the rooms that had already been prepared for them.

Unsurprisingly, Lady and Summer accompanied them out of the room, as neither of the direwolves seemed willing to let Sansa and Bran out of their sight.

Barristan also left the room, although he didn’t go far, as just took up a guard position outside the door. This left only Theron, Jon, Robb, and Max still in the room.

Looking over at Theron and Robb, Jon smiled and said, “So, while you two were in King’s Landing, some interesting things happened here which you should probably know about, Theron, since this is your castle now.”

Shaking his head, Theron said, “My castle. That’s going to take some getting used to. Anyway, what happened?”

“We had another unexpected activation of the Eluvian,” Jon answered. “I’m sure they’re probably getting quite worried over in Thedas by now.”

“Who came through this time?” Robb asked.

It was Jon who answered. “From what I understand, the entire contents of Bianca’s workshop in Val Royal? Along with the ninety-eight full-time smiths that she employs and their families.”

Robb looked surprised, as Theron said, “Val Royeaux. That’s the capital of Orlais.”

“Yeah, that’s it,” Jon agreed.

“Wow, that’s quite a lot of people,” Theron said.

“Yes, although Bianca was quite pleased,” Jon said. “She says her work will be much easier with her smiths, plus all of her design notes, models, prototypes, tools, and materials.”

“Makes sense,” Robb said. “How many is that though?”

“About two-hundred all told,” Jon said. “Which would have been a problem in terms of where all those people were going to sleep, but as Bianca’s smiths were moving into the undercroft they moved some barrels in a dark and dusty corner, noticed some damage to the walls behind them and called Voldrik down to inspect them.”

“Nothing serious I hope?” Theron asked.

With a grin, Max said, “No, nothing too serious, just something that made Voldrik tear down a wall, rather than repair it.” At Robb’s and Theron’s questioning looks, he said, “They found the entrance to an old, abandoned thaig.”

Theron’s eyes widened. “A thaig? A dwarven thaig? Here? Under Bloodstone?”

Max nodded, even as Robb, looking confused asked, “What’s a thaig?”

“From what I understand it’s an underground dwarven city,” Jon explained. “Dwarves in Thedas live underground in massive caves carved from the rock. They use magma for both heat and light, along with torches and braziers.”

“Most of the dwarves have already moved down to the thaig,” Max added. “There are a few exceptions, such as Varric, for example, but they could see how crowded Bloodstone was getting so they figured they’d be able to spread out more in the thaig.”

“So it was completely abandoned?” Theron asked.

Nodding, Max answered, “Yes, abandoned and completely stripped clean of any artifacts. So, I don’t know where the builders went or why they left. There might be an answer in the Deep Roads.”

“Deep Roads?” Robb asked, clearly confused.

“They’re like a giant underground kingsroad essentially,”  Theron said. “Back in Thedas, they were once a huge part of the dwarven empire, spanning the breadth of Thedas and connecting their cities. Although most of them have been lost since the appearance of the darkspawn.”

“The darkspawn have more or less taken over the Thedosian Deep Roads,” Max said. “The dwarves have been trying for centuries now to reclaim them but haven’t had much luck because the darkspawn are so numerous that they can’t make any headway.”

“It doesn’t help that dwarves are a race in decline,” Theron added. “Their birthrates have been falling for years, possibly due to the darkspawn taint. I suppose Carver and I should head down to this thaig and make sure that there’s no darkspawn about.”

-o-0-o-

Voldrik Thaig, Deep Under Bloodstone Fortress, The Stepstones; 15 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

“Voldrik Thaig?” Theron asked with a grin at Voldrik.

The stonemason nodded. The look on his face a strange mix of both pride and embarrassment.

“The place was cleared out. Not a single record or artifact that we could find to tell us what the dwarves who build this place called it. So for lack of another name, the others insisted on naming it after me as I’m the one who discovered it and was the first of our kind to set foot inside of it in however many years.”

“Well, the good thing is that I’m not sensing any darkspawn,” Theron said. “Carver?”

Shaking his head, Carver said, “Me either.”

“Max mentioned the Deep Roads?” Theron asked.

Voldrik nodded. “Yes, there are two sealed entrances that match the entrances to the Deep Roads back in Thedas. One that leads west towards Westeros and one that leads east towards Essos.”

“As tempted as I am to see what’s beyond those sealed entrances, I’m cautious about opening them,” Theron said. “Honestly, I didn’t even know that there were dwarven thaigs or Deep Roads outside of Thedas.”

“Neither did I,” Voldrik agreed. “I left Orzammar many years ago, so I don’t recall any entries in the Memories about dwarves outside of Thedas. Although, Orzammar is not the original capital, so it is possible that records were lost in the move, even if the Shaperate would be loath to admit it.”

It was at this point that Voldrik proceeded to lead Theron and Carver on a tour of the thaig, including showing them the large octagonal doors, crafted of Valyrian steel, with some of the most intricate dwarven clockwork locks that any of the dwarves had ever seen.

Thankfully, at no point during the tour did Theron or Carver sense any darkspawn presence. Although they did agree that it would be wise not to open the Deep Roads doors for the time being. Back in Thedas, such doors were usually sealed from inside the thaig and couldn’t be opened from within the Deep Roads themselves.

Everyone agreed, however, that it stood to reason these doors could be opened from the other side since they’d been sealed shut when they found the thaig. The fact that the place had been stripped clean of artifacts, skeletons, or any sign whatsoever that anyone had ever lived there, would certainly suggest that the builders had to leave somehow.

And Voldrik, master mason that he was didn’t believe that it was through Bloodstone Fortress as it was his opinion that the entrance they’d found wasn’t built to be an entrance but rather had opened up sometime after the fortress was built due to a combination of erosion and volcanic activity.

To be safe, Theron ordered the large locking beams—made of weirwood and banded in Valyrian steel—that were resting against the wall next to both Deep Roads entrances be put in place, as an extra layer of security beyond just the intricate clockwork opening and closing mechanisms which also served as a form of lock.

Theron believed and everyone else agreed that they had enough issues to deal with right now what with the War of the Five Kings to risk exploring outside of the thaig for the time being.

Everyone rather doubted that the western Deep Roads entrance could lead back to Thedas since there was an ocean between it and Thedas. Thus while they didn’t think there’d be any darkspawn waiting in the tunnels, they figured it was better to be safe rather than sorry for now.

It was the eastern entrance that concerned everyone more, as it was possible that since it led towards Essos that if it passed under or near the ruins of Valyria, that there could be Fade Rifts and demons inside the tunnels. Barring that, there was also always the possibility that the stone men might have found an entrance somewhere in Essos.

-o-0-o-

Lord Theron’s Solar, Bloodstone Fortress, The Stepstones; 27 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

Upon his return to Bloodstone, Theron found that despite staying longer than he’d intended he still had about an hour and a half before his scheduled meeting with Bianca, Dagna, and the smiths. Sitting down, he’d intended to get some work done, which Creators knew he had plenty of due to his new position as not only the Lord of Bloodstone but Lord Paramount of the Stepstones.

Of course, as he thought back to his meeting with Aegon and Jon in Dorne, he found himself shifting uncomfortably in his seat as he remembered their kisses and his cock swelled.

It’s been far too long since I got laid. Theron thought.

He’d never been comfortable with visiting brothels as a customer so even though both The Sun & Cider in Amaranthine and The Pearl in Denerim did offer male companions, he didn’t make use of their services. Back during the Blight, he hadn’t over Tamlen yet, so he wasn’t looking for anything serious, although he was still a red-blooded elf with needs.

So, he’d had a friends with benefits relationship with one of his companions, Ser Roderick “Rory” Gilmore and had a one-night stand with a young Dalish hunter initiate, Cammen Naraniel.

In the years since the Blight he’d also met up with another of his former companions, Zevran Aranai, and they’d had some fun with each other, but the last time had been over four years ago as Theron couldn’t see himself getting involved with Zevran on a long-term basis. He was fun, but there just wasn’t a spark between them.

Besides, Zevran was rather busy and had to frequently go into hiding or deep cover due to his ongoing attempts to dismantle the infamous Thedosian assassin’s guild, the Antivan Crows, from the inside. Theron couldn’t see himself getting into a relationship with anyone if he would have to spent most of their time apart on top of constantly worrying for their safety because they were being hunted by several professional assassins.

Alone in the room and with a painfully throbbing erection, Theron picked up his staff and waved it in the direction of the doors into the room, which promptly shut and locked.

Moving over to a comfortable chaise lounge in one corner of the room, Theron took off his tunic, before unbuckling his belt and pushing down his pants and smallclothes. Taking his erection in hand, he began stroking himself with his right hand as he lightly ran his fingertips over the point of his left ear.

He’d greatly prefer sex with a person, or more recently three specific people, but it was still early in the relationship and he didn’t think they’d quite reached that stage yet where sex would be appropriate. Besides, two of them were in Dorne and the other while in the castle, was with his family, mourning for a husband and father who had been taken from them way too early.

Still, that didn’t stop Theron from fantasizing about Jon, Aegon, and Robb and as he continued to run his hand up and down his cock, he couldn’t help but moan every so often, as their names slipped softly from his lips.

Thankfully, when he’d used magic to lock the doors into the room, he had also blanketed the room in a spell that would prevent his activities from being overheard. It was a spell he was getting in the habit of using, having used it most recently in Dorne, to ensure that the conversation he’d had with Jon, Aegon, and Daenerys wasn’t overheard by anyone who might be trying to spy on them.

So wrapped up in his actions, Theron didn’t realize that while he had closed and locked the door that led into his solar, he hadn’t upon entering the room and finding it empty, thought to check the balcony. He hadn’t seen anyone on it through the open doors.

He hadn’t bothered to lock them because there were only two ways onto the balcony. Through the solar itself or by scaling the side of the tower that housed the solar. Which considering the balcony was just over sixty feet above the nearest flat surface was highly unlikely.

Especially since the tower was built from the fused Valyrian black stone that was commonly called dragonstone, as it was believed to have been shaped by a dragon’s breath. The stone of the tower was smooth with nothing to grab onto while climbing, so yeah, Theron had felt safe.

Somebody clearing their throat had Theron almost jumping out of his skin as he turned his head and saw a grinning Robb Stark in the doorway of the balcony. He’d fallen asleep in a chaise lounge on said balcony that wasn’t visible from the doors while he’d been out getting some air.

“Robb, I…”

Robb just grinned as he came over and sat on the edge of the chaise that Theron was on, as he continued grinning. “Hello Theron, having fun?”

“I was just… um…” Theron was at a loss for words, as he flushed crimson. In all the times since he was a teenager and had found the pleasure of his hand, he had never been caught in the act by anyone. And most especially not by one of the people he was fantasizing about while doing it.

“No need to explain,” Robb said with a big grin on his face. “I can see perfectly well what you’re doing.” His grin turned mischievous at this and said, “Don’t stop on my account.”

Theron whimpered slightly as he realized that Robb clearly had no intention of leaving and he was still painfully hard. Even though he could scarcely believe it, Theron was pretty sure that being caught in the act by one of the objects of his fantasies had made him even harder than he had been previously.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Theron took a few deep breaths, before he opened them and looked at Robb. “Could you… um… kiss the tips of my ears?”

Sure, he’d be lying if he said he wouldn’t have greatly preferred to have Robb go down on him or to turn him over and fuck him, but he refrained from asking for either of those things. Their relationship was still too new and he didn’t think that he and Robb should do anything without Aegon and Jon there. At least not the very first time.

Still, he hoped that Jon and Aegon wouldn’t be too upset by Robb just kissing the tips of his ears while he gave himself a handjob.

Robb grinned. “I’ve seen the way you shiver when Aegon does that. I take it you enjoy it?”

“Yes,” Theron whispered. “Very much.”

Robb nodded. “Good to know,” before he moved so that he was lying next to Theron on the chaise and whispered in his ear, “I’ll keep that in mind for the future,” before he leaned over and began kissing the tip of Theron’s left ear and running a hand gently over the elf’s lithely muscled chest and abdomen.

Theron moaned as he resumed running his hand up and down his cock, whispering Robb’s name, as well as Aegon’s and Jon’s, as he continued thinking about all three of them, even if Robb was the only one physically with him at the moment.

Several minutes later, as he could feel his climax coming on fast, Theron called out, “Oh Creators, yes… Robb!” He’d planned on saying Aegon’s and Jon’s names too, but before he had the chance his cock exploded as he began to cum all over his chest and abs.

For this part, Robb just watched as a rather voluminous amount of cum shot out of Theron’s cock. As it slowed and finally stopped, Robb moved so that he could kiss Theron on the forehead and say, “Okay, that was so hot.”

Struggling to catch his breath, Theron finally managed to say, “Serannas.”

Recognizing the Elvhen for ‘thanks’, as Theron had been teaching Jon, Robb, and Aegon a few words and phrases in his ancestral tongue, Robb smiled and said, “Sathem lasa halani,” which meant ‘pleased to help.’

Theron smiled and took a few more deep breaths before grabbing his staff and muttering a spell to clean himself up. He then proceeded to get dressed, despite Robb’s complaints on that, before he wrapped an arm around Robb and kissed the Northman's left cheek, as he said, “A kiss from Jon,” before he kissing his right cheek, “a kiss from Aegon,” and finally his forehead and said, “and last, a kiss from me.”

Robb smiled before he kissed the tip of Theron’s nose and just smiled, as they did some light cuddling on the chaise.

While Robb was attracted to Theron, was more than happy to him achieve release and had found the situation hot, he just wasn’t in the right headspace at the moment to engage in such activities himself. Maybe after they made it up to Winterfell and laid his father to rest he’d feel better.

Finally, Theron sighed and said, “As much as I’d like to stay here with you for the rest of the day, I am supposed to be meeting with Bianca, Dagna, and the smiths. They said they had something they wanted to show me.”

“Care for some company?” Robb asked as he was genuinely curious what the smiths were up to as he’d seen some of Bianca’s designs and they’d been very impressive.

“Sure,” Theron smiled before the two of them got up and left the room.

-o-0-o-

Undercroft, Bloodstone Fortress, The Stepstones; 27 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

“So what did you want to show me?” Theron asked, as he walked into the Undercroft and saw Bianca and Dagna standing nearby waiting for him.

Bianca smiled. “I was talking with Dagna and because she was a member of a centuries-old Smith-caste family before leaving Orzammar, she knew the secret of how to create smokeless coal.”

Theron nodded. “That’s what Branka was made a Paragon for, right?”

Bianca and Dagna nodded, as Robb, obviously not familiar with the term, asked, “Paragon?”

Motioning for Bianca and Dagna to explain, as he didn’t feel right answering a question about dwarven culture in front of the pair of them, let alone the nearly one-hundred other dwarves that were hard at work all around the room.

“Dwarves don’t worship gods as humans and elves do,” Bianca explained. “Instead we venerate the Ancestors, who are the spirits of deceased dwarves of worth who’ve been returned to the Stone.”

“Dwarves consider the Stone to be our ultimate progenitor,” Dagna added. “So worthy dwarves are returned to the Stone when they die.”

Robb nodded in understanding, as Bianca said, “Paragons are dwarves who have achieved a level of success or completed a task deemed so impossible or glorious that they’re viewed with a level of respect beyond even the Ancestors.”

“Paragons are nominated by the Assembly,” Dagna said. “The Assembly is a legislative body made up of the dwarven nobility that is second in influence only to the king or queen. Paragons are usually nominated posthumously and a new noble house is created with the Paragon’s name.”

“Very rarely, however,” Theron spoke up, “a dwarf will be nominated as a Paragon while they’re still alive and if the Assembly agrees they become a living Paragon. They’re viewed as something akin to a living Ancestor, so their words and actions carry immense weight with the dwarven people.”

Bianca nodded. “Branka became a Paragon for the invention of smokeless coal. As the name suggests, smokeless coal doesn’t produce smoke when burned, so it can be safely burned with no ventilation. It greatly reduced cases of black lung, a fatal disease common among smiths, and allowed them to increase their output by a third.”

“So I assume you have some ideas involving smokeless coal?” Theron asked Bianca.

“Several of them, yes,” Bianca confirmed. “One is my Davri Mechanical Thresher, which uses smokeless coal to power the thresher’s steam engine, which in turn separates grain from chaff. Completing in mere hours what would normally take hundreds of laborers weeks of back-breaking work.”

“Impressive,” Robb said.

“Thank you,” Bianca said. “What I wanted to show you, Lord Mahariel is my newly completed models for the Davri Steamship.”

“Steamship?” Theron asked as he raised an eyebrow. He was tempted to tell Bianca that she didn’t need to call him Lord Mahariel, but he knew he’d have to get used to it here in Westeros, now that Jon had made him a Lord, so he kept his mouth shut.

Nodding, Bianca said, “It was one of the designs I was toying with back in Thedas, which I believe could revolutionize ship travel in that a ship would no longer be beholden to the whims of the winds or the power of its oarsmen.”

“So how would it move?” Robb asked.

“I’m toying with three options at the moment,” Bianca answered. “I’m not sure which would be the best as I think determining that would require scale prototypes, rather than a model.”

Pointing to three models on the table next to her, Bianca began explaining her ideas to a fascinated Robb and Theron. One used steam power to turn the oars, another used a pair of large water wheels mounted on the sides of the ship, while the third used two to three large propeller blades on the rear of the ship.

As she finished her descriptions, she said, “This could solve the issue you’ve been facing with being unable to return to Winterfell due to the winds blowing in the wrong direction for the return trip, a none of these would require the wind to be blowing in a certain direction.”

“Hmm, yes, I can see how that might be possible,” Theron said. Even though the pirates that had previously occupied Bloodstone probably stole a number of their ships, there was still a shipyard in the harbor, so Theron said, “You have my blessing to have three ships built so that you can test your designs, Bianca. I’ll send word to the shipyard to expect you.”

“Thank you, Lord Mahariel,” Bianca said.

“Now I believe you also had something to show me, Dagna?”

Nodding, Dagna said, “With Bianca’s smiths from her workshop now in Westeros, all twenty of the smith-caste surface dwarves that Flemeth originally sent have been reassigned to arms and armor. They’ve just completed their first set of Valyrian steel armor that I thought you’d like to take a look at.”

Theron nodded, as he and Robb followed Dagna to another section of the room where they both whistled upon seeing a full set of plate armor bearing the Grey Warden crest.

“We designed this for Carver Hawke,” Dagna said. “We would have started with a set of armor for King Jaeherys but since he’s in Dorne, we couldn’t take his measurements.”

Looking at Robb, she added, “We would have started with you, Lord Stark, but didn’t want to interrupt your mourning or family time.”

“I appreciate that,” Robb said. “So this is Valyrian steel armor?”

Nodding, Dagna said. “Yup, a full set with all the necessary pieces to cover all parts of the body.”

“And is there any rune work?” Theron asked.

He wasn’t personally familiar with Dagna’s rune work, although he had set her on the path that led her to work with them after he’d spoken to First Enchanter Irving at the Kinloch Hold Circle of Magi in Ferelden to get his permission for her to come to the tower to study magical theory.

Theron was, however, well versed in what runes could do thanks to Sandal Feddic. He knew from talking with Max that Dagna was widely considered to be the second-best rune crafter in all of Thedas… after Sandal.

“Of course,” Dagna said with a proud smile. “I’ve added runes to the various pieces which will reduce the weight of the armor, increase the wearer’s strength and endurance, in addition to various elemental protection runes.”

“Well, I’m sure Carver is very appreciative,” Theron said. “And I’m sure that King Jaeherys would love a full set of Valyrian steel armor. Perhaps dyed black with the sigil of House Targaryen?”

Dagna nodded. “That should be doable. We will need to take his measurements first, however, to ensure the proper fit.”

“Of course,” Theron said, as he grinned over at Robb and said, “Well I’m sure between the two of us we can convince him to come down and let you measure him.”

“Oh definitely,” Robb said before he decided that while he was down here, he might as well let the smiths take his measurements because he certainly wouldn’t say no to a set of Valyrian steel armor himself.

Considering that he was Lord of Winterfell and would eventually be one of the three Prince-Consorts of the Seven Kingdoms, he figured it was only fair.

-o-0-o-

The Water Gardens, Dorne; 29 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

As a final test to see if Prince Quentyn could deal with dragons, which Jon, Aegon, and Daenerys and the other Martells doubted since Quentyn still practically jumped out of his skin every time that Drogon, Rhaegal, or Viserion moved a muscle, Jon sent a raven to Bloodstone and asked Theron to fly over in his dragon form.

Letting out a roar as he made his final approach in a large field outside the walls of the Martell retreat, the land shook as Theron’s back legs hit the ground. While all the other Martells were looking suitably impressed, however, Quentin took one look at the massive dragon and fainted.

“By the Seven,” Doran muttered under his breath when he realized that his son had not only fainted but also soiled himself. Looking at Daenerys as a few of the palace servants moved the unconscious Dornish prince back inside, Doran looked at Daenerys and said, “Well, it’s clear that he’s not a viable choice for your hand, Princess.”

“Indeed,” Daenerys agreed. “However, I believe that Oberyn and I have reached an agreement.”

Oberon nodded, even as Garrett climbed down off of Theron’s back, having flown over to Dorne with him for a very specific reason. Once introductions were made the group, minus Theron who remained in dragon form, reentered the palace.

“Well, I believe most of the details are already worked out,” Doran said, as they’d spent the last few days drawing up a series of mutually agreed-upon terms for the marriage alliance between House Targaryen and House Nymeros-Martell.

It was already assumed that the marriage would likely be between Oberyn and Daenerys, but Doran had wanted to test his son one more time with one of the larger dragons. Needless to say, Quentyn failed the test miserably.

“So, let us go over the agreed terms one final time before signing, shall we?” Doran asked and Jon nodded.

Motioning towards Maester Caleotte, the man nods meekly as he begins reading.

Agreed Terms:

Prince Oberyn Nymeros-Martell will wed Princess Daenerys Targaryen. Both shall keep the names of their birth houses upon their marriage. The first two sons and the first two daughters of the marriage will bear the name and be members of House Targaryen. Any additional children beyond those mentioned previously will bear the name and be members of House Nymeros-Martell.

It is agreed that no child born of the marriage and belonging to House Targaryen will have a claim on Sunspear, the Kingdom of Dorne or any other holding belong to House Nymeros-Martell, now or in the future. Furthermore, it is agreed that no child born of the marriage and belonging to House Nymeros-Martell will have a claim on the Iron Throne of the Seven Kingdoms or any other holding belonging to House Targaryen, now or in the future.

Prince Doran Martell swears the allegiance, loyalty, and support of House Nymeros-Martell and its vassal houses to King Jaeherys III Targaryen, who hereby agrees to grant Prince Doran Martell the title and position of Warden of the South.

As Maester Caleotte finished reading, Jon nodded and said, “Everything seems in order.”

“It’ll be nice to finally be Warden of the South,” Doran said. “Makes no sense for that dimwitted oaf of a man in Highgarden to be the Warden of the South, instead of the ruling prince of the southernmost kingdom.”

“Considering said Lord of Highgarden is currently supporting one of my rivals for the throne,” Jon said, “I quite agree. He needs some punishment.”

That said, Jon motions for Garrett to come over. “Before we sign, I asked Garrett to come over from Bloodstone for a reason, Prince Doran.”

“Oh, and what is that?” Doran asked.

“To heal you,” Jon said, as while Doran had initially hidden his condition, in the days since he had allowed Jon and Daenerys to see his infirmity, as he figured that he could trust them. Especially Jon who was going to be his nephew-in-law and thus family. “Or try to anyway.”

“Gout is almost unheard of in Thedas,” Garrett said. “Pretty much the only time it’s seen in anyone is if the person in question has steadfastly refused magical healing because their hatred or distrust of magic is so great that they’d rather live with their condition then ask a mage for assistance.”

Doran didn’t want to get his hopes up, so instead, he just asked, “What exactly would be involved?”

“It’s quite simple and painless,” Garrett answered. “You sit there, I wave my staff over you, directing healing magic into your body.”

Doran was quiet for a moment before he nodded and said, “Very well, proceed.”

With a nod, Garrett removes his staff from his back and holds it over Doran’s legs, as he concentrates on the strongest healing spell he knows. A moment later the staff glowed as a mist of light blue energy moved down and into Doran’s legs.

When the energy disappeared, Garrett swayed on his feet briefly, as he used his staff to steady himself. “So how do you feel?”

“The pain, it’s gone,” Doran said before he placed his hands on the arms of his wheelchair.

Seeing what the prince was about to do, both Oberyn and Trystane rushed forward, ready to help their brother and father if he needed it, but also staying back and letting him try. Pushing himself up, Doran was a bit shaky at first, as he hadn’t stood up in nearly a year, but after a moment, he managed to stand and took his hands off of the arms of his wheelchair.

“I… I can stand,” Doran said. “I never thought I…” shaking his head he smiled and said, “Seven bless you, Ser Hawke.”

Garrett nodded, as he stepped back, as Jon said, “Shall we sign the agreement, Prince Doran?”

“Yes,” Doran said with a nod, as he walked over to the nearby table and leaned down as he signed his name, followed by Jon, Oberyn, and Daenerys, with the members of the Kingsguard signing as witnesses.

It probably would have been easier for Doran to sign the document while sitting down, but he’d been sitting for most of the last year, so he was enjoying standing up for a change.

-o-0-o-

Eluvian Tower, Bloodstone Fortress, The Stepstones; 29 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

After the agreement for a Martell/Targaryen marriage was signed, the Targaryens and their retinue left Dorne. It would take time to prepare for a wedding fit for royalty. Until then, they’d part ways and Doran would raise his banners to prepare the defend Dorne should word reach the northern kingdoms that he’d allied with Jon.

The Golden Company was being moved from the Stepstones to Sunspear and plans were being made on how to proceed. They were still planning on sending Catelyn to treat with Renly, to see if they could work out if not an alliance then at least a temporary non-aggression pact so that they could focus on the Lannisters and the houses from the Crownlands that had opted to support Joffrey.

For the time being, however, they’d all been called up to the Eluvian Tower by Morrigan for an unknown reason.

“Well, we’re here, Morrigan,” Jon said.

“I can see that. I’ll get straight to the point. Mother sends her regards and a gift.” As she says this she holds up a small item that looks vaguely key-shaped.

“What’s that?” Aegon asked.

“An Eluvian key,” Morrigan said. “Normally, Eluvians don’t have a physical key, but rather are unlocked by magical power or knowledge. After the secrets of the Eluvian network were spread to humans, however, the ancient Elvhenan sealed off access to the Eluvians here in Westeros and Essos, or modified them so that a physical key was necessary to unlock them.”

Motioning towards the Eluvian she said, “You may notice several indentations in the frame. Those indentations are keyholes, which will unlock various Eluvians if you insert the right key. This key will unlock the Eluvian, allowing it to be used for transport to and from a single location here in Westeros.”

“Where in Westeros?” Bran asked.

“The North,” Morrigan said. “Specifically one in a hidden chamber in what used to be a temple to Andruil, the elven Goddess of the Hunt. The above-ground section of the temple was razed to the ground several thousand years ago, but portions of the temple catacombs yet remain.”

“If there’s an Eluvian in the North, why did we have to come here to the Stepstones to meet up with you, Theron and the others?” Jon asked, perplexed.

“Because the hidden room the Eluvian is in is magically sealed from the inside,” Morrigan said. “It can only be unlocked from inside the Eluvian Chamber itself, so even if Flemeth had told you where this particular Eluvian was, it wouldn’t have done you much good if you couldn’t get to it.”

Bran said, “Okay, that makes sense,” as Tommen nodded and asked, “So once we unlock this chamber, where will we be?

“In the crypts,” Morrigan answered. “Beneath Ironrath.”

“Ironrath?” Sansa asked. “Do the Forresters know?”

Shaking her head, Morrigan said, “No, they don’t. While a large portion of their crypts was converted temple basement, the Eluvian Chamber is, as I said, magically sealed from the inside. There is no discernable door as it blends in perfectly with the stone block of the surrounding walls. So the Forresters, despite living at Ironrath for over fifteen hundred years have no idea the chamber even exists.”

“I see,” Jon said. “And we’ll be able to get out?”

“Yes, you will,” Morrigan replied. “Mother told me how to unlock the door. I’m sure any of the Forresters still at Ironrath will want to know how we got into their crypts, but that’s easily enough explained, especially when their liege lord will be present.”

Robb sighed. “Yes. Too bad there isn’t one at Winterfell.”

“There was,” Morrigan said, as she held up a hand to forestall any comment. “However, it was in the deepest part of Winterfell’s crypts that nobody alive today has ever visited. Mainly because the floor above it collapsed centuries ago, so the Eluvian that was there ceased to be functional when it got crushed and buried under several tons of stone and dirt.”

“Lord Gregor Forrester will be at Moat Cailan,” Catelyn said. “His wife and children are still at home, however, as while his two eldest sons are old enough to go to war, he decided that he’d keep them home until the orders to march south of the Neck arrived.”

“Probably a good idea,” Robb said. “That’s fewer mouths to feed as the men that would serve under their command remain at Ironrath to help guard it. Which is good in case Balon Greyjoy gets it in his head to push into the North since he has declared himself king of it.”

“Perhaps we should all go and change into warmer clothes,” Jon said. As he looked around at everybody present, he said, “Our current attire is fine for the Stepstones, but even though it’s summer, it’ll still be cold enough at both Ironrath and Winterfell that everybody will be glad of warmer clothes.”

-o-0-o-

Chapter Text

Through the Eluvian
By J.C. Vascardi

-o-0-o-

Act III, Part I

-o-0-o-

Feasting Hall, Ironrath, The North; 29 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

To say that Lady Elissa Forrester, wife of Lord Gregor Forrester and the Lady of Ironrath was surprised when Duncan Tuttle, castellan of Ironrath, informed her that he’d caught several people, including Lord Robb Stark and King Jaeherys Targaryen coming upstairs from the Forrester family crypt, would be an understatement.

Seated at the high table in Ironrath’s feasting hall, and flanked by four of her six children: Rodrik, 24, twins Ethan and Talia, 16, and Ryon, 13, Lady Elissa smiled and said, “Welcome to Ironrath, Your Grace,” to Jon, before she turns to address Robb and Catelyn, “Lord Stark, Lady Stark, and companions.”

“Thank you, Lady Forrester,” Jon said. “I’m sure you’re wondering how we all got into your crypts.”

“The thought did cross my mind, yes,” Elissa said. “The entrance that Duncan caught you emerging from is the only one.”

“Well, not quite,” Robb said before he explained about Eluvians and the hidden Eluvian Chamber in the crypt. “I apologize if our appearance caused you any distress, but it was the quickest way for us to get back to the North from the Stepstones.”

“No need to apologize, my lord,” Lady Elissa said. “While we may be sworn to the Glovers of Deepwood Motte, they are your vassal house, so you will always be welcome here, Lord Stark.”

Rodrik and his siblings nodded at this, before Rodrik said, “We’d be honored if you’d stay and join us for dinner.”

Before they could respond, Lady Elissa added, “Unless I’m very much mistaken, tomorrow is your name-day, is it not, Lord Stark? We’d be most pleased to hold a small feast in your honor.”

Jon and Robb shared a look with Aegon and Theron. They had to consider distances because while it was true that they could likely get to Winterfell faster aboard Theron if he transformed into his dragon form, he’d still have to make several trips back and forth to transport everyone.

Fewer if Morrigan was willing to pitch in, although she had not made any indication thus far that she’d be willing to carry even one person on her back in her dragon form, let alone four as Theron did. Of course, judging by her personality, everyone kind of assumed she would balk at being used to transport anybody.

Barring her mother ordering her to do so, Jon and Robb assumed that her son Kieran might be the only one that she would make an exception for.

Of course, even if she was willing, it was likely that there were at least a few among their party who would not be willing to fly on a dragon. While they hadn’t confirmed it, Jon and Robb were pretty sure that Catelyn and Myrcella, for example, would not be willing under any circumstances.

They also knew that Gerold, Arthur, and Oswell weren’t, which is why it had been Barristan who accompanied them to treat with Aegon and Daenerys, as the others all expressed a strong preference for keeping their feet firmly on the ground. This left overland travel as their only option.

Located roughly a hundred miles east of Deepwood Mott, Ironrath was still about two-hundred-and-fifty miles northeast of Winterfell. Even on horseback, taking into consideration the need for pack animals to carry gear and provisions and the likely presence of at least one wheelhouse, it would take over a fortnight to reach Winterfell.

With this in mind and the thought that it would be nice to celebrate his twentieth name-day in a nice warm castle instead of in a tent somewhere between Ironrath and Winterfell, Robb nodded and said, “It is and we’ll gladly take you up on your offer, Lady Forrester.”

“Excellent,” Lady Elissa said with a smile. “Duncan, please have rooms prepared for our guests.”

“Forgive me, my lady, but I’m not sure we have enough rooms,” Duncan said. “Other than the family bedrooms, we only have five guest rooms.”

Lady Elissa nodded, and said, “Yes, true, well, Talia and I can double up in her room for two nights. Then King Jaeherys can have Gregor’s and my room.”

Knowing that the Forresters were the vassal of one of the Stark’s vassals, it didn’t surprise Jon or Robb that they wouldn’t have a large number of guest rooms. Winterfell did, but then they were the North’s Great House and former royal house, so it made sense.

For the smaller seats, like Ironrath, it was a fairly common practice in Westeros for the Lord and Lady of a given castle to temporarily surrender their room, which was usually the largest and best in the castle, to visiting royalty, so Jon didn’t object to Lady Elissa’s suggestion. Instead, he motioned to each in turn as he said, “Robb, Aegon, and Theron can share with me.”

Duncan nodded and after a few minutes of conversation, the other room assignments were worked out. It took some shuffling of the Forrester family, for example, Rodrik would move into Ethan’s room with him for two days so that Catelyn and Sansa could have Rodrik’s room.

As the Heir of Ironrath, Rodrik’s room was the second largest in the castle, so since Robb would be sharing with Jon, it was agreed that Lady Catelyn should have the second largest room since she was the widow of the late Lord Stark.

Meanwhile, since they were only two years apart in age, Bran and Tommen would be bunking with Ryon for two days. With some sharing, such as the four elder Kingsguard knights and the newest one Prince Trystane, or Morrigan and her son, everyone was accommodated.

-o-0-o-

Lord and Lady Forrester’s Bedroom, Ironrath, The North; 30 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 A.C.

As the morning sun rose and filled the room with its light, Jon smiled as he kissed Robb’s forehead, who stirred and smiled up at his longtime lover.

“Good morning.”

Jon smiled. “Happy name-day, old man.”

“Old man?” Robb asked. “Who are you calling old?”

Jon grinned. “You, since you’re no longer a teenager anymore.”

Robb mock-glared at Jon and said, “Yeah, and you won’t be either in like fifteen days.”

Jon groaned. “Oh don’t remind me.”

“Yes, please, don’t remind him,” Aegon said, as he woke up. “His name-day only brings me that much closer to my own the following month.”

Shaking his head, Theron said, “Okay, all your complaining about not being nineteen anymore is not only making me feel ancient but like a cradle robber on top of it.”

Aegon cocked his head and said, “You know, I don’t think I even know when your name-day is, Theron? I suppose that’s bad, considering that we’re courting, but it’s just never really come up before.”

Robb looked thoughtful for a moment before he nodded and said, “You know Aegon’s right. I don’t know when your name-day is.”

“When is it?” Jon asked. “And why haven’t you mentioned it?”

“Maybe I thought you’d be scared away if you knew how old I am,” Theron said. “So, I figured I wouldn’t mention it unless you brought it up.”

“Oh come on, Theron,” Aegon said. “You can’t possibly be that old. You don’t look old.”

“Thanks,” Theron said, sarcastically.

When Theron didn’t say anything more, Jon said, “So? When is it? Come on, don’t make me pull rank.”

That at least got a smile on Theron’s face, as he leaned over and kissed Jon on the cheek. With a sigh, he answered, “3 Solace… which in Westerosi is Last Seed.”

Left unsaid was that it would be known as Seventh Turn to the commoners, as Theron knew they were all educated enough to know that.

“And the year?” Robb asked.

“9:12 Dragon.”

Jon said, “It’s currently 9:42 Dragon right?” Theron nodded. “So, you turned thirty, three months ago.”

Nodding, Theron said, “Yes, hence why I said you three complaining about turning twenty and not being teenagers anymore was making me feel ancient. As I haven’t been a teenager since the year I slew Urthemiel, eleven years ago.”

“Well, I suppose thirty isn’t that old.”

Theron grinned and said, “Don’t think for one moment that I don’t know you’re only saying that because you want to get into my smallclothes, Aegon.”

Looking unrepentant, Aegon said, “So what? You’re hot. Besides, while I won’t say that I’m in love with you yet since we’ve only known each other for less than a month, the more I learn about you the more I like you and the more I think I could fall for you.”

“Same here.”

Clearing his throat, Robb said, “Hey, remember me? The name-day boy? Think you three could pay a little more attention to me?”

Jon laughed. “And just what kind of attention were you hoping for?”

“Well, we’re already in bed together,” Robb said, and this much was true as the four of them were currently in Lord and Lady Forrester’s bed.

Although when the Ironrath servants prepared the room for them, they’d stripped off the bedding and furs that had been on the bed and put clean linens on it. The four men in the large bed had then added the furs from their bedrolls to the bed. Between those and their shared body heat, they were left plenty warm throughout the night.

“So what exactly did you have in mind?” Aegon asked in a seductive voice.

“I know we agreed to no sex,” Robb said. “But if we’re going to be sleeping together like this, then I don’t think I can stick to that. Especially after what Theron and I already did.”

Jon quirked a brow at that as he asked, “Oh? And what did you two do?”

Theron blushed bright red. “Robb caught me giving myself a handjob in my solar. I didn’t realize he was on my balcony until he walked in and caught me.”

“I laid down on the chaise next to him,” Robb said. “Fully clothed, mind you, kissed one of his ears, and ran a hand over his chest and abdomen while he continued with his handjob.”

“I was thinking of all three of you as I did it,” Theron said. “As Robb can attest, I was calling out all of your names.”

“Well, it sounds innocent enough,” Jon said, as Aegon nodded. “As for sharing a bed like this, I can understand where you’re coming from, Robb. This might have been a mistake.”

Shaking his head, Aegon who was lying on Jon’s left—with Robb to Jon's right and Theron on the other side of Robb—moved so that he was lying half on top of Jon, one between Jon’s legs, as he said, “Yeah, I don’t think it was a mistake.”

“Why am I not surprised,” Jon said with a grin. “You’ve wanted to get into my smallclothes since the day we met, Griff.”

“Of course, I have,” Aegon said. “I mean have you seen yourself?”

Before Jon could say anything, Robb said, “He’s got you there, Jae.”

“That he does,” Theron said with a smile, as he moved to copy Aegon’s position, only with Robb, who smiled and wrapped an arm around Theron’s lithe waist.

Looking over at Robb, Jon asked, “So, now you’re calling me Jae too?”

“Well, I figured maybe I should test it out,” Robb said. “See if I can get used to it because you should probably distance yourself from the Jon Snow persona if you want people to take your claim to the Iron Throne seriously.”

“He’s right, you know,” Aegon said. “How do you expect people to think of you as the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms, a trueborn Targaryen, if you continue to call yourself Jon Snow, who’s well known as the Bastard of Winterfell?”

“Yes, I suppose you’re probably right,” Jon agreed after giving it a few moments of thought. “It’s going to take some getting used to is all. I mean, I’ve always known that my name is Jaeherys Targaryen, but after so many years of going by Jon Snow, I admit I’ve gotten used to it.”

“Understandable,” Robb said. “Especially since without access to Theron’s silencing spell, we never actually called you Jaeherys back in Winterfell, just in case somebody might have overheard us talking.”

After a few moments of silence, Jon said, “At any rate, back to the topics of it being Robb’s name-day and sex, how about a handjob for now and then maybe once we get back to Winterfell, we can consider taking the next step?”

“I can live with that,” Robb said.

Theron and Aegon agreed, as they all moved around on the bed so that Robb would be at the center of any action, as Jon began massaging Robb’s chest and abdomen while kissing him. While Theron and Aegon both put their hands into Robb’s smallclothes with Theron giving him the actual handjob, and Aegon caressing his balls.

Theron and Aegon also began kissing each other, after a while, as they figured why should Jon and Robb have all the fun in that department?

-o-0-o-

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Through the Eluvian
By J.C. Vascardi

-o-0-o-

Act III, Part II

-o-0-o-

Fortress of Ostagar, Ferelden, Thedas; 29 Harvestmere 9:42 Dragon (29 Frostfall/Tenth Turn 298 AC)

Despite the mounting tensions with their neighbors to both the north and the south, the clans had all come together at Ostagar for the Arlathvhen, a gathering of the Dalish clans that occurred once every ten years.

Ostagar had been completely rebuilt in the ten years following the Fifth Blight, although many of the damaged or destroyed buildings had been raised in a far more Elven style, over their original Tevinter.

Tensions were again on the rise to the north with the people of Ferelden, as many were not happy with King Alistair and Queen Anora granting the Dalish the Hinterlands north of the Kocari Wilds, including the ruins of Ostagar. Even though it had been a Dalish Elf who saved Ferelden and all of Thedas from the Fifth Blight by killing the Archdemon Urthemiel.

Especially since many people who had fled north to escape the Blight had left behind homes, farms, and their livelihoods in the Hinterlands. With the threat of the darkspawn gone, there was little that the King and Queen could do to prevent them from going back and reclaiming their homes.

Ferelden’s treasury was stretched thin enough as it was trying to repair the damage done to Denerim during the final battle, let alone the rest of the country. They simply couldn’t afford to compensate everyone who’d called the Hinterlands home handsomely enough to convince them to give up their former homes to the elves.

Thus, of the original grant of land given over to the Dalish, they only retained sole control of Ostagar. Thankfully, the smallfolk of Ferelden didn’t really seem all that interested in occupying the centuries-old Tevinter fortress. None of them really wanted to live on the site of the first major battle of the Blight, where so many people, including King Cailan, had been slaughtered following his good-father’s betrayal.

It did pose an issue for the Dalish, however, as some came to Ostagar to pay their respects to the fallen. The Dalish weren’t overly bothered by that, as they could understand the shemlens’ desire to do so. What really caused tensions, however, was that among those who were coming to pay their respects, were also Chantry brothers and sisters hoping to spread the worship of the Maker to the “heathen” elves.

Even now, as the clans gathered, there were a few persistent brothers, sisters, and even a few mothers standing outside the gates of the Fortress singing the Chant of Light as loudly as they could.

“Do they ever stop that blasted singing?” one of the elves of Clan Ghilain complained.

“Usually when the sun goes down,” Ashalle said.

“Of course, then that’s usually when the Chasind Wilders start making a raucous,” Ghenya said, with a sad shake of her head.

That was the other issue that the Dalish were facing in their new home. With much of the Kocari Wilds still recovering from the Blight, the Chasind had been driven further north. Before the Dalish finished rebuilding the crumbling walls, they’d even tried to raid the fortress a few times. Not that they got very far, as the Dalish managed to repel them each and every time.

The good thing about the passage of time was that the blighted land had healed enough that it was no longer dangerous to walk or travel through the most heavily blighted areas.

Unfortunately, many of the areas immediately around the fortress hadn’t yet recovered enough that it was safe to farm them, as it was still possible to catch the blight if you ate anything grown on the land. It got better with the passage of each year, but it would likely be many years before the Dalish could plant enough food to feed their people.

Similarly, hunting was an issue, as they had to compete for the game with the Chasind and the Fereldens so that there was never quite enough. As a result, the Dalish had little choice but to open up trade with Ferelden and import food to make sure that they didn’t starve.

This was why there were still many clans who had chosen not to come to live at Ostagar permanently, as they just wanted to be left alone. They didn’t want to trade with the humans, many of whom still treated them like inferior beings, slaves, or heathens for their refusal to convert to the worship of the Maker.

And then there was Solas.

Within a month or so of the defeat of Corypheus, the bald elf had shown up at Ostagar and had upset many of the elders with his claims that the Evanuris were not real gods, but merely tyrannical mortal mages. That went over about as well as him offering to remove their vallaslin, which he insisted were slave markings.

The fact that he claimed to be Fen’Herel and that he’d created the Veil made his claims even more insulting. As many of the elders pointed out when the young began asking questions about his claims, Fen’Herel was the Elven God of Betrayal and Rebellion, and the Lord of Tricksters. Thus, believing anything that came out of the mouth of a man claiming to be him seemed more than a bit foolish.

Thankfully, Solas did not stay long at Ostagar, as everyone there made it very clear that he and his spurious and blasphemous claims were not welcome.

Some of the Dalish did worry that some of their brethren still in cities might fall under his sway, but there was little they could do for them. Other than set them straight if they ever journeyed to Ostagar.

The Keepers of the various clans, who until now had been meeting in private as they shared the various bits of knowledge they’d accumulated over the last ten years, had just come out and were about to start the next part of the gathering when a woman appeared from a wisp of black smoke.

While she appeared human, none of the Dalish raised arms against her or complained about her presence.

“Andaran atish’an, Asha’bellanar,”  Marethari, the Keeper of Clan Sabrae, said as bowed her head to the newcomer.

“Ma melava halani, Marethari,” Flemeth said. “Ma serranas.”

Marethari nodded, as Keeper Elindra of Clan Ralaferin, asked, “To what do we owe the pleasure of your company, Asha’bellanar?”

“I thought you might like to know about the whereabouts of one of your own,” Flemeth said. “Specifically, the former First of Clan Sabrae.”

“As Merrill is dead,” Marethari said, closing her eyes briefly in sadness that the foolish girl couldn’t be swayed from her dangerous path and ended up paying for it with her life, “I assume you mean Theron Mahariel.”

“Aye, it is Theron I speak of,” Flemeth agreed. “I’m sure that as the clans gathered here, that word has reached you that the Warden-Commander had disappeared without a trace from Vigil’s Keep.”

“Yes, Asha’bellanar,” Ashalle said, her voice tinged with worry. She had raised Theron for most of his childhood, after all, so while he wasn’t her biological son, she loved him like a mother. “What news of him?”

“He’s safe, or at least as safe as any man can be when thrust into the midst of a five-sided civil war.”

“Civil war?” Keeper Lanaya of Clan Taludin asked.

“The War of the Five Kings,” Flemeth answered. “Although as this war is happening in Westeros, a continent which lies over three-thousand miles northeast of Denerim on the other side of the Amaranthine Ocean, I don’t expect any of you to have any knowledge of it.”

“However did Theron end up that far away?” Ghenya asked, clearly surprised that the man that her late husband had a one-night stand with eleven years ago could possibly have traveled that far away.

“I sent him there,” Flemeth answered. “Along with a few others from Thedas, including but not limited to Inquisitor Maxwell Trevelyan and Champion of Kirkwall Garrett Hawke.”

When nobody said anything, Flemeth continued, “Through an Eluvian, in case you’re wondering. They’re not all broken or infected with the darkspawn taint. In fact, none of the Eluvians in Westeros have the taint as that continent has never known a Blight.”

“While I’m pleased to know that Theron is alive and relatively safe,” Marethari said. “I assume there’s a reason you’re here and telling us this, Asha’bellanar.”

“Indeed,” Flemeth said. “Theron is unlikely to return to Thedas anytime soon, as he’s found the beginnings of great love in Westeros, with three young men who each have a role in the war I mentioned. In fact, one of them is one of the kings fighting for the throne.”

“Are they of the people?” Ashalle asked.

Shaking her head, Flemeth said, “No, all three of his young men are human. Elves are known as the Children of the Forest in Westeros and are very rare, having been taken to the brink of near extinction many thousands of years ago. However, each of the young men that Theron finds himself with are the honorable sort, who each have a good heart and treat him with much respect. Their relationship is still in its early stages, but I foresee great love and happiness in their future together.”

“It gladdens my heart to hear it,” Ashalle said. “I’ve missed him since he left to become a Warden.”

“That is the reason I’m here, actually,” Flemeth said. “I’ve come to offer you and anyone else here who wishes it, the chance to leave Thedas behind and move to Westeros. As I mentioned, one of Theron’s lovers, Jaeherys Targaryen, is one of the claimants to the throne. As a reward for services that Theron rendered to him, he granted land to Theron.”

“Land?” Marethari asked.

“Yes, Theron is now the Lord of Bloodstone, an ancient keep on an island of the same name,” Flemeth answered. “Bloodstone is just one island in an archipelago known as the Stepstones, of which Theron has been granted dominion over as Lord Paramount of the Stepstones. While some of the islands are inhabited, some of them are not, and I’m certain that Theron would very happily allow you to settle on them.”

In the silence that followed, Flemeth added, “It would technically mean being under the dominion of a human king, however, one must consider a few important factors about that.

“One is that Jaeherys is, or soon will be, in love with Theron.”

“Two is that the throne Jaeherys is fighting for is known as the Iron Throne of the Seven Kingdoms. Those seven kingdoms take up most of Westeros, save for a single region in the far north of the continent, which is bitterly cold and inhospitable for most of the year.”

“You’re saying that it’s unlikely that this Jaeherys,” Marethari reasoned, “will have the time to take a very hands-on approach to the day-to-day running of Theron’s lands.”

“Indeed,” Flemeth agreed. “The way each of the seven kingdoms and some of the other administrative regions of Westeros that aren’t kingdoms in their own right work is that there are several noble houses. The lords of which swear fealty to a lord paramount, who in the case of the Stepstones, is Theron.”

Pausing for only a second, Flemeth added, “For the most part, the Lords Paramount run their sections of Westeros independently of the Iron Throne. They all owe fealty to it and the person seated upon it, but the King does not take a direct hand in the day-to-day running of any region of Westeros save what is known as the Crownlands, which is the region surrounding the capital city where the Iron Throne resides.”

“And how far is this capital city from the Stepstones?” Ghenya asked.

“Approximately 1,291 miles northwest of the island of Bloodstone,” Flemeth said. “So, far enough away that it’ll be mostly Theron’s jurisdiction you’d be under.”

“And after Theron passes away?” Elindra asked. “Even if he does marry this Jaeherys, he’s not going to live forever. Especially as a Grey Warden, as my understanding that most of them don’t live much longer than thirty years after their joining.”

“And it’s already been eleven since Theron’s,” Marethari said.

“That will not be an issue,” Flemeth said. “Theron drank a vial of water from the Vir’Abelasan. In addition to granting him all of the collected knowledge of thousands of years of the priesthood of Mythal, it also cured him of the shortened lifespan of a Grey Warden.”

Looking over at Ghenya, Flemeth added, “However, a Grey Warden’s joining hurts their fertility. It becomes harder for them to sire children with each passing year and usually within five to ten years, they’ll be left completely and irreversibly sterile.”

“So what you’re saying,” Elindra said, “is that Theron will never have children. Not that it would matter even if he did, as the offspring of humans and elves are human. Which means when he does eventually pass away, the dominion of the Stepstones will pass to a human.”

“Not necessarily,” Ghenya said, as several eyes turned to her. “My late husband Cammen was a bearer. Eleven years ago during the Blight, before he and I got married, Cammen shared a night with Theron.”

Looking over to where many of the children of the clans were gathered, listening to the hahrens telling stories, she said, “While I’ve raised Rhylian and Rhyvan as my own, the twins are actually Cammen’s with Theron.”

Lanaya laid a comforting hand on the clearly sad Ghenya’s shoulder, as she said, “Cammen died the following day, from complications suffered while birthing the twins.”

“I was pregnant with Cammen’s and my daughter at the time,” Ghenya said. “His final request, after naming his sons, was that I raise them alongside our daughter.”

Ghenya sighed, as she shook her head and her shoulders drooped, “Theron visited Ostagar a few times when his warden duties brought him this way, but… I couldn’t bring myself to tell Theron that the twins were his.”

“Why, da’lan?” Marethari asked.

“I guess I was being selfish,” Ghenya answered. “Rhylian, Rhyvan, and Valana are all I had left of Cammen and the twins, as they’ve gotten older they remind me so much of him. I guess I was afraid that if Theron knew that they were his sons that he’d take them to Vigil’s Keep to raise them himself and I’d never see them again.”

Silence reigned for a few minutes, as those gathered digested this information. After a moment, Lanaya asked, “What about religion? Are we going to have to deal with missionaries trying to convert us to the Chantry?”

“The Chantry and worship of the Maker are unknown in Westeros,” Flemeth answered. “There are many different religions in that part of the world, especially on the neighboring continent of Essos. In Westeros, however, there are two main religions: The Faith of the Seven and the Old Gods.”

Pausing for a moment, Flemeth said, “The Faith of the Seven is the dominant religion, holding sway over most of Westeros. However, many in the northernmost kingdom called simply The North, worship what are known as the Old Gods of the Forest. Jaeherys Targaryen was raised in the North and thus is a follower of the Old Gods.”

“So, we’d just be changing from one set of missionaries to another,” Elindra said.

“Not exactly,” Flemeth said. “I said earlier that Elves are known as the Children of the Forest in Westeros. They originated here in Thedas, as the ancient Elvhenan created the Eluvians and colonized Westeros. However, before the fall of Arlathan, a civil war broke out for control of the government. The Eluvian network was shut down, which resulted in all contact with the colonies in Westeros and Essos being severed.”

“So what happened?” Lanaya asked, never having heard about this event, but not doubting Flemeth, since all the Keepers knew who she was… or at least who’s essence she carried within her.

It’s why all Dalish elves, no matter how they normally felt about humans, or shemlen as they were more likely to call them, treated the woman they called Asha’bellanar with great respect.

“Over time the elves in Westeros and Essos developed much differently than they did here,” Flemeth said. “Their method of worshiping the Evanuris changed and in time their names were forgotten, as they became known simply as the Old Gods of the Forest.”

Eyes widening, Neira, the First of Keeper Elindra, asked, “You mean there are humans in this Westeros who worship the Evanuris?”

“Yes,” Flemeth replied. “Until very recently they didn’t know that, of course. As I said, the Children forgot their names, but they still worshiped the same gods that you do. And when the First Men, distant ancestors of man both here in Thedas and Westeros, arrived in Westeros from Essos, many of them started worshiping the Old Gods as well. A practice which remains strong to this day, mostly in the North as I previously said, though there may be pockets of worshippers of the Old Gods in the southern kingdoms who publicly worship the Seven while keeping their true beliefs secret.”

Allowing that to sink in, Flemeth said, “Because of King Jaeherys’s faith in the Old Gods, I imagine that should he win the war for the Iron Throne—which is the whole reason I sent those that I did there to help him do just that—he will institute a strict policy of religious freedom.”

“Would we be expected to help in the war?” Marethari asked.

“I believe that any of you who chose to go will be welcomed into the ranks of Jaeherys’s army if you want to fight,” Flemeth said. “However, as long as you don’t offer any aid to the other claimants to the throne, I don’t think he would force anyone who truly doesn’t want to fight to do so.”

Flemeth’s eyes glowed bright gold for a moment, as an Eluvian appeared in the middle of the fortress. “The Eluvian will activate in six hours and remain active for eight hours after that. Any of you who wish to go will have until then to pack their belongings and step through.”

“Where will we end up?” Lanaya asked. “And can we take our aravels and halla?”

Shaking her head, Flemeth said, “The first five of you who step through the Eluvian will find themselves in the underground family crypt of House Forrester of Ironrath in The North, which is where Theron currently is, as one of his young men, Robb Stark, is the Lord Paramount of the North. His father was murdered recently and they’ll be leaving Ironrath in a few days to journey to Winterfell—the seat of House Stark—to hold a funeral service for the late Lord Stark.”

“And after the first five?” Elindra asked.

“Bloodstone Fortress in the Stepstones,” Flemeth answered. “As for your aravels and halla, you’ll have to magically shrink them. Both Eluvians are indoors, one being deep underground and the other being high up in a tower. At full-size, the aravels and halla will not fit through the mirror or up or down the stairs. But if you temporarily shrink them and carry them with you, then you can take them through and enlarge them once you’re outside.”

Flemeth turned and walked away at this point, turning to look over her shoulder as she said, “Any who choose to go should know that this will be a one-way trip. There will be a magical shield in front of the Eluvians on the Westerosi side, which will prevent you from going back through, even if it's still active. Also, I’ve charmed the Eluvian so that stepping through it will teach you how to speak, read, and write two of the Westerosi languages: the Common Tongue and High Valyrian so that you’ll be able to communicate once you arrive.”

Before anyone could say anything, Flemeth disappeared in a wisp of black smoke.

-o-0-o-

To be continued…