One Giant Growth Spurt (ASOIAF Giant SI)

Chapter 32: Now I Know How It Feels
284 AC: Dok Tur
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“It came again last night.” Tormund stomps towards me and the Giants clearing a swath of forest. Held by her ankle is a giggling toddler with scarlet pigtails, while a boy around five is struggling to break the grip on his wrist.

“Took another babe and left the family dead in their tent. Ryk here woke when the fire went out and ran with his sister for the nearest bonfire.” My son shoves the terrified boy in front of me and prods him gently. “Now come on lad, tell him what you saw.”

“It was snowing inside the tent, but it looked like a really tall man.” The boy shakes as he remembers. “He was walking towards the babe and I was too scared to do anything but run with Ygritte.”

Seventeen children have already been taken while we wait for Mance to return with Ned, but this is the first time it’s been confirmed what the cause is. Tormund scowls at me and crosses his arms firmly.

“I got enough wives and kids of my own on the way, so here ya go!” He stares me down for a hard minute, but eventually the sensation of Ygritte licking my sweaty palm makes me giggle.

“Alright, but only cause she’s cuter than you.” The affronted look Tormund gives me only makes my smile grow wider. “And Ryk here is clearly smarter than both of us.” I turn my smile to the boy and let him climb into my hand with his sister.

A hiss escapes Tormund’s lips when he catches sight of who is directing the Giants in which trees to fell. “Seems like they’re everywhere now.”

“Less than two thousand of the Squirrel People are with us… which means you outnumber them twenty to one.” I remind him with a smirk. “Most want nothing to do with us once we go South, And will be going straight for the Isle of Faces. “So just put up with it.” Less than a hundred of them are actually coming with me and even fewer will stay in the North to tend the Weirwoods.

The one leading the colony staying to keep watch over me is called Tuber and she strides out from between my legs with a melodic laugh that sounds like wind chimes. “This works best for all, you want us around even less than we enjoy your pungent odors.” I’m not sure if she means the Giants or humans, but I give her an offended grunt for both of my lives.

“How come these attacks only started right after you showed up?” Tormund growls out impatiently. “It sure seems like you’ve been leading the enemy right into our camp.”

She answers with her expressions shifting faster than a hummingbird’s wings. “With all of us here waiting for the gates to open, it’s just more efficient for the Others to stalk unmoving prey.” If they know we have permission to leave, things could take a very deadly turn with the next storm.

“So why won’t the Crows open up?” He snarls in frustration. “You told us all you we could get through, people are starting to get grumpy.”

“I didn’t think I was bringing more than ten thousand with me, we have four times that number.” Kind of hard to just stick us somewhere in the middle of winter, especially with word of the Kingdoms splitting apart. “The Stark King is on his way to the Wall and since my words aren’t enough to ease your fears… I guess it will fall to your little sister to assure you the Southerners aren’t all cannibals.”

Giving up for now, Tormund just snorts in frustration. “She best have been talking me up to her husband’s family.”

“Alright, make sure the days haul is stacked by the Wall with the rest of the wood.” When he agrees with only a little whining I lift the children to my face and smile. “Now let’s get your stuff moved to my tent. Hope you don’t mind sleeping in a hammock, otherwise I might roll on you in my sleep.”

My attempt at levity only makes Ryk grab his sister and try to leap from my palm. “Calm down, I’m only japing Littlefoot. I promise that from this day until the day you are a man grown, I will care for you as if you are my child.” What’s another two compared to the sixteen I’m supposed to have now that I’m marrying Cersei… maybe I should just tell Sandor I claimed him too?


…

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285 AC: Dok Tur
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It takes nearly a month for Ned and his lords to arrive at the Wall, in which time we lose another twenty seven babies… and I am now stuck caring for two more orphans. Dalla is at least quiet and self sufficient as an eight year old, but her sister Val is a for more rambunctious three year old and getting into trouble with Ryk in the crowd.

The procession of Northmen march towards us under a dozen banners behind Commander Qorgyle’s rangers. He has a lot more men than I remember, looks like the refugees arrived safely. I notice the Grey Direwolf of the Starks is most prominent, but a black on yellow one marches beside it. Must be for Benjen and Osha.

The Boltons, Mormonts, and Umbers are marching on the King of Winter’s left flank, while the Karstarks, Manderlys, and Hornwood mirror them on the right. Nearly five thousand men on horseback approach, but my nose focuses on the familiar scent of two wolves dashing towards me.

The grey and black wolves recognize me immediately and break formation to leap at me with eager kisses. I fall onto my back so they can pretend they have taken me down like when they had been pups I was training.

“Oh yes, I missed you both.” They might be larger than ponies, but this only makes them Collie sized to me.

Ned’s companion is already showing it is the more disciplined of the two, as the nearly silver Argent finally decides to drag his shaggy haired brother Barkly off of me. “Have you two been good boys for the Starks?”

The chuckling that comes from the Northmen shows they don’t see me as a real threat now and have all seen my connection to the royal family. Job done, I grab a piece of meat from my pouch and toss it into the wolves eager mouths’.
“Hail to the King of Winter and his Lords of Ice.” Most of these men remember me from when Benjen called the banners, this doesn’t look to be nearly as hard as I had feared. “I have gathered my people and those who still hold true to the oaths of old.”

Time to undo a little bit of my earlier slander. “We have even freed many Children from the control of the Others and learned I was wrong about who was behind the Giant’s curse long ago.”

“Our magic was bound by the will of the Others.” Perfect, just like we discussed. “And that of the Dragons was likewise bound across the sea by the Deep Ones as they waged war for control of the land.”

My eyes go wide and I feel my stomach twist into a knot of horrified dread. Um… what!? Deep Ones and Dragons had nothing to do with what we talked about. The smirk I receive from Tuber lets me know they haven’t quite forgiven me for the lies yet. Either they like to ad lib as much as me… or I have no idea whats really going on.

“The few of us who could break free managed to ally with the First Men and Giants against them, but the Deep Ones had already flooded the Arm of Dorne to slow down those who would flee them.” No one interrupts Tuber’s history lesson and I just focus on figuring out how much is true.

“In the East, those who fought the darkness brought by the Deep saw only one way to save us all.” Tuber has a musical chime to her voice that makes everything she says sound even more believable. “Only one family was able to escape the doom planned for the rest and they came to warn us in the west… only for the Other’s curse to then turn most from the cause.”

“The Deep Ones tried again to invade from the Neck, but our alliance held firm and pushed them back into the sea.” She gives heavy sigh. “But then during the Long Night, the Others cursed many with greed, hate, and mistrust. This brought the end of our alliance and left most of my people serving the Lands of Always Winter.”

She winks at me, which makes me know that this final part is where she blends her horrible truths with my selfish lie. “The Giants and bravest of men went North of the Wall to free us and ensure the Wall was given warning of the Others’ awakening.”

Everyone is silent for several minutes as we process this information, with Roose Bolton being the first to challenge the claim. “We have all heard enough of these children’s tales, I have yet to see proof of these walking dead.” I guess the head at the Wall has finally rotted away.

Tuber elbows me in the foot and I hastily realize it’s my turn to do something. I grab the cart with a large block of snow compacted nearly into ice and slide it onto the ground carefully.

“Every stay back, we had to dig this one out of an avalanche and he’s hungry.” gripping the block with one hand I brush away the rest of the snow with my other. Soon a dead man falls to the ground at me feet motionless.

“I’m so frightened.” Deadpans the Dreadfort Lord, only to hiss in shock when the body jerks upright with glowing blue eyes.

The wight starts to charge for the Northmen, only to be crushed under my waiting foot. “Good, you should be. We have tens of thousands of these coming to kill everything with a pulse and less than twenty years to prepare.” I get only horrified silence from the Northmen, but Grim acceptance them the Watch.

“Sorry Father, but my blade is needed on the Wall.” A knight in the Manderly forces blurts out suddenly. “I can’t return to the White Knife with you.” His words start a stampede of Northmen swearing themselves to the Watch and soon almost half of the assembled banner men are standing with the Rangers.​

 

Chapter 33: Family Reunion
285 AC: Dok Tur
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As my people set up their own tents and igloos outside of Wintertown under Lipps and Grell’s direction and nearly double it’s size, Ned and his brother lead the three of us inside Winterfell proper. The great hall is cleared of any but those considered family.

The dire wolves at Queen Catelyn and Princess Lyanna’s sides perk up when they smell me and dash for the doorway. The fluffy white Winter is first to reach me with eager licks, while her sister the reddish brown Grace follows at a more disciplined pace.

“Teddy, sit!” Osha hisses at the large brown bear charging for his own reunion. “Now walk… slowly.” She’s wearing a dress and has her hair combed into a style of braid I remember seeing in the Riverlands.

Catelyn is seated between her and Lyanna, with all three having some of Osha’s feathered beads in their hair. “You’re doing very well Osha, the Moat Cailin household will have no issue adjusting to you.”

“They better not, I’m going to a lot of trouble so I don’t shame the Starks.” My daughter grumbles and forgets just how good my hearing is.

“You look so…” Tormund trails off at a loss for words, which only makes his sister grow self conscious.

“Beautiful.” Earning an impressed smile from me, Benjen smoothly compliments his wife and steals a sausage from Lyanna’s plate.

Feigning shock, Lyanna grabs a startled Ned’s hand. “Where has our shy little brother gone?”

Osha passes me a gurgling Jaenaera, who takes more than a few moments to recognize me. But once she does, her pleased laughter releases tension I wasn’t even aware had been building in my shoulders.

“I’m not sure but this Gambling Wolf has taken his place.” A scowling Ned throws Benjen under the carriage. “You had best make sure our players win, or Wendel Manderly is given a year to woo you with his… ample charms.”

Lyanna looks outraged at first, but my snuffling has her expression shift to grim remembrance. “He’s a good man and I’ve heard he’s almost as skilled on the ice as I am. If he can beat our best, I’ll just have to give him a chance.”

“I thought you would be mad,” Admits a grinning Benjen, only to grow pale when his sister responds with a devious smirk.

“Oh I am,” Her scowl promises creative vengeance is coming for the Prince. “But not with Wendel.”

Catelyn is one to approach me, with her and Ned stepping aside for a semi private word. “I really must thank you Duke Ymir, having Grace to stand beside me has helped prove myself in the eyes of the North.”

I did say Robert could name me… did he think of one before he died, or did Stannis think it was his duty? “Well you certainly already smell like a Stark.”

She reaches for her belly and gives Ned an excited grin. “I was going to say something later, when I was sure.”

“Wonderful news my love.”

I give them a few moments, before I awkwardly interrupt the embrace with a cough. “Since so many of our children have name days soon, your husband decided to throw a festival once the spring thaw comes.”

“A tournie in the North?” Catelyn is equal parts shocked and gleeful.

“Not a tournie, no weapons will be drawn.” He corrects her with a contemplative look creasing his brow. “With the North now a Kingdom again, we need a way to foster unity among our own people. Each spring we will host all those who wish to come and hold battles of Hockey, race dog sleds, and jump with skies like I say the Freefolk doing on the way here.”

She considers anything he has forgotten. “What about prizes and food?”

“We have a surplus still that the other houses most likely do not,” Ned explains his reasoning t nods from his wife. “The food will draw them and the Duke has many supplies made for the harshest winters… only he and his people will be sailing South.”

“Go ahead. We’re family now and it’s not like I’ll need thousands of skies in the Stepstones.”

She goes over to a side table and grabs a bundle of wool dyed bright orange. “Lyanna stitched the vest and Osha chose all the colors, but you have given so much to us… I wanted to thank you personally for welcoming to the family, before you had even become a member.”

She hands me the tartan patterned kilt and I can see dark blue and grey fabric interwoven with exquisite care. The vest is made of deerskin and is dyed the same blue as is in my kilt. The grey pouches sewn onto the belt remind me of a fanny pack, but I’m just happy to have pockets again.

“This is incredible Queen Catelyn, thank you.” she blushes as Ned beams at her in pride.

“I have the smiths working on the weapons you asked for, but I must ask again… why not ones actually designed for war?” Ned is trying hard not to show his judgment on his face, but it leaks into his voice anyway.

“These are, only a different kind of war.” Shovels, picks, and axes may not seem like the most useful weapons at first, but it should make almost any fortification a nut in need of cracking. “As long as the Manderlys can have enough excess sails made for my Giants to use as slings, I only have one last item I wish to create.”

I’m only good at so many things and few are actually useful, but I do know how to use a yo-yo. I keep my snort to myself when I picture a barrel sized one striking archers of a wall one after another.

“She has moms ears, but that smirk is all mine!” I hear Tormund bark out happily when his niece decides make faces at him. “Got yer no-” He stops talking suddenly to snort with muffled laughter, making me turn over to the sight of little Raya trying to yank her uncle’s nose off.

“Ha! That’s what you get for trying to steal from a Stark.” Osha coos happily to her daughter and I feel a whole lot better about my meddling.


…


Tuber is waiting for us with in the Godswood, six of her fellow Children climbing the branches and chattering happily. The light of the full moon washes over us as Davos steps forward with Osha, Tormund, and Catelyn.

Mors Umber and Jorah Mormont are already waiting for us with Desmond Grell and Duncan Lipps in the grove. Standing with them are the Cassel brothers and Vayon Poole looking anxious to be done with this strangeness.

Nan and her grandson Walder are last that I notice, as she points out the constellations with a soft voice to him. The three Starks stand beside me with solemn expressions, though Ned still smells uncertain.

“This will let them dream like we do?” He directs the question to Tuber, who is already handing out wooden bowls of a violet colored paste to those present lacking the ability to skin change.

“It will open the mind once, but it is a person’s responsibility to remember how to do so again.” The being who acts like both a child and a grandmother at the same time gives a sad shrug. “We only have a limited supply and it takes a lifetime to create more.”

“And once we eat this… paste, I will be Grace in my dreams?” When Catelyn gets a firm yes from Tuber, she scoops nearly all of it into her mouth with two fingers. The look on her face is at first one of raw disgust, but soon it shifts to a thoughtful one as she begins chewing slowly.

Finally her face becomes one of bliss and she starts to fall backwards. Before she can hit the ground Ned is behind her with firm arms and her holds her off the snow as she begins to make very canine like sounds.

I hear thuds around the grove as the volunteers don’t have anyone to catch them, only Osha is gently lowered to the snow by Benjen. Nan was smart enough to pull her grandson onto his backside before giving him his own bowl and she nearly cries when his mumbling is just normal words.”

“How?” She lays Walder’s head on the blanket she had brought and turns her gaze on Tuber desperate for an answer.

“Someone tried to take his body the way we can take the skin of a beast.” Tuber explains sadly. “This is why it is forbidden to try. A brain only has so much room inside it, which leaves at least one mind shattered.”

Cursing at whoever had done so, Nan keeps her eyes locked on the small being. “How did you bring my Walder back to me?”

“We didn’t, all the paste does is open the door.” Accepting the hug with a surprised smile, Tuber tries to explain. “Whatever was left of Walder, had to find the courage to step through himself.”





Notes: I know the poll says I have a few days left before my name is confirmed, but Ymir is in the Lead by 27. I’m a few days early, so if a different one does somehow win, I’ll go back and edit the name.​

 

Chapter 34: Let’s Get Things Straight
285 AC: Cersei Lannister
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The grey stone walls of Winterfell rise above our procession as we ride through the place called Wintertown. A large frozen lake has wooden stands arranged to view the ice, with more seating set up in what seems to be the middle of nowhere.

Off the wall is a wooden ramp that curves sharply up right before the end, with several giants shoveling snow into a pile at the bottom. I’ve seen hundreds of them today as they care for those shaggy mammoths wandering beside them in massive herds across the snowy fields.

I try not to make a face when my stomach churns suddenly and it takes everything I have not to vomit. But a single glance at the back of Father’s head as he speaks casually with the Imp reminds me things have changed.

Lady Mormont was the one to approach him about the betrothal between her eldest and Tyrion, which he eagerly accepted of course. With the pair of us bartered off, we now have two hooks in this multi Kingdom alliance.

The Reach will be attempting to reclaim their land eventually and seeing how many Giants are present here makes me realize exactly how important these alliances will be for the Westerlands in the coming years. I can understand why Father is so wroth with me now.

All I had to do was be discreet and yet the only reason my dalliance may be covered up, was by the invitation to Winterfell for this ‘Festival of the Thaw’. A few months longer and my condition could not be hidden.

The Mountain’s younger brother is recognized by many as we enter the gates and I’m forced to admit his claims may have a kernel of truth. Too many have called him a slayer and meant it for the words to only be mockery.

“Greetings King Lannister, it is of course an honor the host you.” A man only a year or two my younger calls out, the horse sized wolf beside him marking him as Prince Benjen. “But I think my brother needs to work on his penmanship, you’re a few months early for the festival.”

“As much as I would have… enjoyed the celebrations, I would not be able to leave my lands without a King. Spring is when the Ironborn begin swarming like flies.” Drawls Father with none of the urgency he showed the entire trip to Deepwood Motte. “Where is the Duke?”

The Prince rolls his eyes and shrugs uselessly. “He saw the Hornwood’s horn and decided he needed to make an instrument of his own for the festival. Been going into the Wolfswood every day for a few weeks now and I still have no idea what they’re working on.”

“Just a damn lot of booming and banging,” A red head with the beginnings of a beard saunters into the courtyard with a wide grin on his face. “So you’re the one marrying Dad?” I’m forced to contain a scowl when Salem darts forward and nuzzles his leg eagerly. Traitor.


…

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Dok Tur Ymir
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Tywin finishes his more private greeting once I return from my days work in the woods and I just snort in response. “I’m not an idiot you know.”

“Our deal was very simple.” I can smell the difference in hormones Cersei has, which let’s me know exactly why they’re here early. “It’s not discreet to get with child when I’m several Kingdoms away, is it?”

Cersei pales at a single glare from her father and I consider how hard I really want to push such a vicious man. “What do you think your families word is worth?” Either he gives me a whole lot to buy my forgiveness, or he’s leaving Cersei with no one else but me to turn to.

“You decide what Cersei’s honor is worth and I’ll trust you are being honest with me.” I win either way. “I’ll give you the rest of the day to consider it, while Cersei and I get to know each other. With her chaperon of course.” I’m quick to add when she gives me an affronted look.

Seeing no reason to make her an actual enemy, I reach down and extend a finger for her to wrap an arm around. “May I have the great pleasure of escorting you Princess Cersei?”

“Do I actually have a choice?” she mutters under her breath as she grabs my finger, with Tywin hissing in shocked frustration behind us.

“Of course you do.” I stop and face her properly, even kneeling down so I’m nearly at eye level with her. “I’m not looking for a whore, I’m looking for a Duchess who can lead when I’m away and have honest conversation with when I’m home. If you don’t want to be my equal, I’ll just need whatever your father believes you are worth… or my priceless sword back of course.”

“Now how has Salem been, he’s behaved for you right?” We leave the no longer broken tower that is being loaned to me for the winter and start to walk towards the Godswood. Her cousin Ser Lucion Lannister is quick to follow at a respectful distance.

“He was until he saw your savage son and ran right to him.” She scowls in envy and I try not to laugh. At nearly nineteen she lacks the confidence that becomes second nature later in life and the dress does her no favors either. “Haven’t seen him since we got here.”

He can likely sense Tormund’s more open mind now, should probably see how much of the Bloodraven paste the Children have left if this actually goes through. Her and Tyrion will need some and so will Sandor, Maege, and then all of the kids when they’re old enough. Damn, we’re going to be using the Varamyr paste a lot sooner than I expected

“He’ll be back soon,” I fold my cloak into a decently thick cushion and we watch the construction being done for the festival. “Now I think it’s time the two of us got things clear on what’s expected from each of us in this marriage.”

She waits for me to explain in a perfect example of a noblewoman’s poise. “You’ll marry a king who has sixteen children, while you have three of your own.” My paraphrasing of her prophecy has the stench of fear begin leaking from her every pour. “Outliving ones children is a terrible fate to befall anyone and I promise that part I will help avert. ‘Our’ daughter will of course be more beautiful than you and if she is firstborn will inherit all that is yours.”

“What about your own children?” She scowls up at me and the fear smell becomes mixed with frustration. “Will they not inherit first?”

“Tormund is staying in the North, he wants no more wives and is bringing his to the New Gift. He’s going to stay with a couple thousand Freefolk and almost a hundred Giants who refuse to shave.” She knows Osha is already married off, so I only have the others to reassure her over now.

“Jaenaera, Dalla, Val, Ryk, and Ygritte be getting land and titles of course, but they are born before I was married, which makes them all bastards does it not?” She smells slightly less tense as I explain further. “They are a Blackfyre and four Littlefoots. Our children are the ones who are first in the eyes of legitimate inheritance.”

“And what does that mean exactly?”

I smirk dangerously and show I do in fact have fangs. “If the fathers every try to claim them… I kill the liar as creatively as I can.” Switching back to a far kinder expression, I carry on as if I hadn’t just threatened graphic murder.

“My bastards will be Barons and Baronesses, but our children will be the Duke or Duchess… with those born after this child being our Count and Countesses.” Now let’s see if I can get her to rethink what some of the prophecies mean. Valonqar, do you not believe it makes more sense for it to be having a fourth child to replace the three you lose that will strangle the life from your body?”

“Just like Mother and Tyrion…” Something shifts in her expression, but I don’t know them well enough to name what emotion flickered briefly.

“So what do you want out of this marriage?”

She gives me a considering look before her expression becomes deadly serious and the smell of fear is replaced with fury. “I want Euron Greyjoy dead and I want to be the one to carve his heart out myself. Show him how it really feels.”

“If you want to know why Salem ran right to Tormund, bring your family to the Godswood tonight. We should have just enough of the paste left for you, Sandor, and Maege.” Going to need to keep an eye out for the more despicable Skinchangers and Greenseers so we can… recycle them. “Now can I please see the sigil you designed for our house?”

She has he cousin unfurl the banner and I am pleased nearly to tears. A background of dark blue has the texture of waves, with a border of silver lion fangs giving the appearance of chomping down on the sigil inside. A bright orange foot is stomping down on a silver knight, only his limbs and head are visible as he is stomped into rippling water.

“Stand tall, stand proud, stand firm.” I read the silver words and lift a shocked Cersei for a hug. “It’s perfect!”
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Chapter 35: What Could Go Wrong?
285 AC: Jaime Lannister
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Knowing Bravos was the one place of true freedom on Essos, I at first lead those slaves we freed North. But when taking shelter in a Pentoshi’s vineyard we heard of the Dragon hiding in the East and Westeros falling apart, we could not risk remaining on the Narrow Sea.

The bounty for bringing the lost Prince back to Westeros is confirmation we need to hide our identities and it falls on me to protect the true heir to the Realm. Steering us into the Golden Hills was my only choice, yet now as I listen to picks crashing into the rocks I can only reconsider.

One more groups of slavers did we encounter on our journey East and I was the one forced to keep the chains from being thrown around everyone’s neck. The two surviving guardsmen rallied to my blade and we managed to slay the bandits, though maybe I should have left them to die.

The owner of the gold mine – One Sahario Maratis originally of Pentos – has taken me on as the captain of his guard and I want to stab him ever time he speaks. The looks he gives Elia are only kept from becoming more with the knowledge of just how good with my blade I really am.

Twice now have I been forced to meet raiders on the town with steel drawn. Now the men look only to me for command and I find myself the only one willing to see them trained. Instead of paying for the most desperate, Sahario should have someone teaching them to use the swords he puts in these boys’ hands.

“Notch and take aim…” I call out and have the children throw the blocks of wood above the river. “Release!”

The fourteen arrows do not shoot as one volley, with only five even reaching the wood before it falls. Two strike blocks and I call out the successes with a grimace. We’re dead the second anyone with a competent commander attacks this place.

Keeping that realization off my face, I whistle for the ten riders to charge forward with lances pointed for the hay roughly shaped like men. So far only half can hit the dummies consistently, but the thirty swordsmen are at least able to follow my lead.

The knowledge of a ‘freed slave’ leading this mining towns defense has brought droves to us and I know eventually word will reach the Dothraki of us. Should I leave with Elia and Aegon now and go to Bravos like I originally planned, or should I flee with those loyal and head to the Rhoyne?

A horn blaring fills me with resolve and I scan for the approaching threat. A cloud of dust trails behind twenty riders and I’m relieved to see they only have the Myr colors. Back to chain those I saved, or more likely to remove me as a bastion of freedom.


…

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Varys
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Slipping inside the back door of the familiar manse, I reveal my token to any curious servants I meet. “The Golden Company is ready to sail when I send word from Winterfell, they will serve the Duke until your daughter is an age to take command herself.” He’s doing all the hard work for us, we may as well let him.

Illyrio jerks forward in surprise when I enter the courtyard, his platter of cheeses falling to the ground with a clatter. “You slippery bastard, you know not to do that to me!” He grumbles angrily as he tries to salvage his food.

“My apologies old friend, but you did say to inform you as soon as I entered the city.” He scowls at my reminder but waves for me to sit.

“And the rumors are true, Rhaella’s fleet was smashed in the last storm of the year?” Desperate for the confirmation, he leans forward peering his at me with beady eyes.

“Indeed, I was witness to the storm myself.” I get a strange look from Illyrio, as he has yet to determine how I can cross even the worst waters. “It sunk over half of her fleet and scuttled half of those remaining on Crackclaw Point.” The Squishers will have full bellies this winter.

“How many ships does she have left, twenty?”

I smirk back at him and swallow the flavorless cheese, managing to keep the look of disgust of my face only with years of practice. “Slightly more, including whatever else she has gotten repaired these last few months.”

“And the Redwyne ships you saw in the Stepstones.” He reminds me of my last raven and is concerned by the others involved in our goal. “What did they achieve?”

“Met up with Balon Greyjoy and some of his ships. They gave the pirates quite an ample supply of food and weapons.” That will delay the Giant in his conquest and give me time to ensure the dragons hatch.

He hands me a small chest with three eggs and I remove the green one with a smirk. Aegon was brought safely to Essos by one of my kin, now I just need to have this egg brought to him as insurance. Their flames will melt the ice and snow, bringing back the rising tides and our eventual conquest of the surface.

I really don’t care who rules Westeros as long as they can help us end the frozen souls and it seems I have several baskets in which to place my eggs now. He scowls at the news though and I relish the day I can finally get rid of this disgusting mammal.

“Bring these to the Duke when you arrive, he brought a second bastard dragon North that can help my girl claim the throne. She will still have the advantage with two for herself.”

He shrugs as he only barely remembers one final thing and points to the crates lining one wall. “I’ve had my excess from this years harvest prepared. An army marches on it’s stomach and it doesn’t seem like he has any land of his own quite yet.” As long as you keep being useful, you can keep drawing breath.


…

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Petyr Baelish
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The raven from the Arryns was a surprise after my dismissal from Riverrun, with the mystery only growing when I saw who had written it. The new Queen Frey requesting I meet with her father at the Twins was good news and it only grows more interesting when I see who else is involved.

Olenna Tyrell and her over sized bodyguards sit at the left of Lord Walder Frey, while on his right sits the Ironborn envoy and heir Balon. “I hope this wasn’t all a plot to get little old me?” No reason to show fear yet. That will only mark me as easily controlled and I don’t know if that’s the illusion I need.

“Of course not you idiot,” Olenna barks at me in frustration before turning to our host. “Now why exactly did we wait for this child, I was told he would be useful to our plans.” She turns her nose up at me and continues her tirade. “I have yet to see any man in this room who can be more useful than my oaf of a son… but he recently surprised me, so you had all best do the same.”

“Greetings Lord Baelish.” Walder is the one to smile though it never reaches his eyes. “I was hoping you may care for revenge against King Hoster? I have learned how deeply he shamed you and only want to offer you a chance to rise.”

“And what do you need of me?” I consider my own position in the Vale carefully and know I have little chance to redeem myself in King Arryn’s eyes.

Balon answers by slamming his flagon on the table and beckoning for a refill. “I need a place my brother can use to stir up trouble in the Three Sisters from. You also give us a way to get word to the Mountain Clans, since Walder’s girl is now being closely watched by the Royce in the castle.”

“What do I gain from this?”

“Once I’m King of the Trident, it would be nice to have one of my Kingly neighbors be an ally.” Lord Frey explains with a wave of his greasy hand. “Victarion wants the Three Sisters for himself, but the rest of the Vale will be yours when you marry my widowed daughter.”

“My agents found surprising resistance in the West, so I have instead had my ‘brigands’ move to harass the Stormlands.” Rolling her eyes at the lack of manners, Olenna then turns back to me with a condescending look on her face. “How does that sound boy, do you want to be a King? Or should we abort this plan to overthrow Hoster Tully?”

Oh she is good, because that name fills me with enough rage to grow reckless. “Of course I would, but what happens if the North gets involved?”

“If the savages march on the Twins, my Reavers will swarm the North like never before seen.” Balon almost purrs in anticipation. Should never have turned me down Cat, I could have saved you from all of this.

​

 

Chapter 36: Homegrown
285 AC: Sandor Komainu
​

After breaking our fast I swallow my nerves and lead Tysha to the tower the duke has yet to leave today. Dalla said it was fine to go see him, but the grumbling from the other side of the door makes me hesitate.

Tysha shares a glance filled with worry and I force myself to knock. Before my hand can even reach the new door, my name is barked out by an irritated Giant.

“Get in and close the door Sandor!” I do as commanded and crack open the door, waving Tysha inside before me. “It’s taking far longer to get my new Squire trained than I would like, maybe you’d like to show him how it’s done?”

He’s sitting on the floor with his chest and one arm shaved, but Walder is struggling to get the shoulders on his own. “I had help in Dorne, it’s just cruel to make him do this by himself.”

“I’m no monster, Young Nan and Mother Mole are working on my back right now.” I hear giggling more fitting from maidens, not the pair of women well over fifty behind the Duke.

“Oh you sweet talker.” I can hear the grin on Nan’s face as she titters. “But I’ll have no lies from you, I’m still the oldest person in Winterfell.”

Bigfoot winks at me before shifting his expression back to a carefully constructed neutral. “Well I seem to remember killing one Brynden Rivers myself. I think that makes you a spring chick compared to me.”

“Who’s your friend Sandor?” He finally realizes I’m not alone and smiles at Tysha.

“Tysha your Grace,” I turn and smile at the girl who is making me feel like a person and not the hound everyone calls me. “Her village is one that the Crownlands refugees swarmed, her family did not survive.”

Before I can say anymore, he sighs and gives Tysha an evaluating look. “How good are you with children Tysha?”

“I had two siblings yer Grace, I can also cook and clean.” She sees her chance and is intent on securing a place in his household. “Anything else you need I can learn how to do.”

“Guess I shouldn’t complain, it looks like all sixteen of you are going to be brought right to me.” With his eyes shifting into a squint I only see when he begins thinking hard, he lifts his hands to count off on his fingers.

“Tormund, Osha, Jaenaera, Ryk, and Ygritte.” He moves to his other hand to finish. “Dalla, her sister Val, and now you makes eight.” His face morphs into a bright smile and he snaps his finger. “I’m halfway their, so welcome to the family Tysha.”

“… What?” She blurts out before remembering her place and dropping to her knees. “Your Grace.” Fear of what King Tywin would do in this situation is clear in both her voice and posture.

“Isn’t that why Sandor brought you here?” I get the confused frown when my liege speaks, prompting me to answer.

“No. I wanted you to let me bring her South with us as a maid in my household.”

His lips quirk into a smile as a giggle escapes the Duke. “You’re a Thane Sandor, got your own name and almost two hundred people sworn to you outside. You don’t need my permission for something like that anymore.”

Now I’m confused. “Why did you think I brought you a daughter?”

“Tormund brought me four across the wall and even Varys gave me Jaenaera… I’m kind of leery when someone approaches with an orphan now.” He shrugs in amusement and asks Tysha instead. “So what do you want to do Tysha? Want to be a maid, or a maiden?”

“Why did you give Jarlessa Maege and Sandor new names?” She asks the one thing I have been too nervous to press on, even though Maege cursed up a storm once we left. She at least likes her family.

“Do you know how confusing it gets when you have noble or knightly houses with the same name?” He smirks at us and lays on his back so his legs can be worked on next. “Besides… I know exactly how much Sandor wants to be associated with the Clegane name.”

She smiles at this and keeps asking her questions. It’s hard to be frightened when the Duke acts gentle, but I’ve seen him cut loose on the enemy and know he’s only a heartbeat away from some strange plan of attack.

“What is a Komainu?” I too would like to know what these lion-dogs are. “And a Kodiak?”

“Big bulky dog with stocky legs and a lion’s mane.” He answers with a smile and I appreciate how he treats everyone the same in private. “And Kodiaks are just the biggest and meanest bears North of the Wall. Haven’t seen any of either since I killed Bloodraven.”

When I brush the hair away from my eye he instantly narrows in on my face. “Sandor… what happened to your eye?”

“It’s my fault, he was injured saving me from the refugees.” Tysha defends me needlessly, as Dok Tur just smiles wider with each word. My vision is blurry still, but the blade only grazed my eye thanks to my rather prominent brow.

“Well I really like you,” He interrupts when Tysha takes a breath. “You have fire in you for sure. If he got injured protecting the innocent, Sandor kept to his oaths… unlike his brother.”

“Take her to see the kids, if Tysha doesn’t want to strangle them she’s welcome to join us.” My liege stands and shakes off the loose hair. “I have to meet with Ned and Tywin still and do something with all of this hair.”

Nan runs some of the nearly foot long strands between her fingers, a curious look on her face makes me grab Tysha’s elbow in a hurry. “This is softer than any wool I’ve ever felt, do you mind if I try something with it?”


…

​

Dok Tur Ymir
​

The night air is cool on my body shaved only a week ago as I wait in the Godswood. The Starks wait to one side with Tormund, while those in my bride’s entourage stand to their left awkwardly.

Lanna and her brother Lucion are being sent with twenty household knights who will swear to me when the ceremony is complete. The same number of ladies in waiting are also present to attend Cersei and give her a sense of normalcy among us savages.

The cloak bearing my new sigil was made new by Nan in thanks for remembering her grandson and I can only think it will better serve Cersei as a blanket. Of course when I think of her, that is when her father escorts Cersei into the grove with a scowl at the setting. Sorry, but Cat’s Sept isn’t going to be finished until summer.

He leads her towards me and manages to hide his expression before anyone else sees it. They stop beside the ten foot pit dug into the dirt. Earlier today with my new shovel, I made sure Cersei would be able to look me in the eyes as an equal.

I see the realization in Cersei’s eyes and her lips even tremble as she tries to fight back a giggle. She give her vows without a stutter and it is my hands that shake when I place the massive cloak on her shoulders.

Buried inside the softest fabric I have personally ever felt, she rubs it against er cheek with a surprised smile. “What is this made of?”

“You really don’t want to know.”

She frowns but relents for now. “You can get more of it though?”

“We’ll have a whole lot soon.” I whisper as I lift her into my palm so the cloak doesn’t drag in the snow. “Now Varys wants to give us a gift, so let’s go see what it is.” She gives me an eager nod so I lead the wedding party into the great hall to do so.

“I still can’t believe you took in that commoner girl your squire found.” Mutters Cersei when she sees Tysha shepherding my children with an awkward Sandor’s aid.

I just smile back down at her and wait a moment before replying. “How’s our babe doing?”

She pales a shade and nods. “Right. You get your kids and I get mine, but neither of us ask any questions.”

“Much better for both of us if we’re just upfront about it.” She’s going to do what she wants and so will I, we just need to make sure our goals align going forward. “The most I’m hoping for from you is a friend I can trust and speak to as an equal. If the world is filled with sheep, I’d like a lioness by my side.”

“It was a wonderful ceremony your Grace.” Vary is waiting by the head table and when every fills the hall, I settle into my newly made chair. Cersei’s own chair is on my armrest, with stairs curling around the back for the servers to use. “I have brought gifts from Pentos and word from the Golden Company.”

The hall goes silent when the sell swords are mentioned, as many remember facing them in the Stepstones. I guess I better explain before the yelling starts.

“They serve the Blackfyres and my daughter is the last one known to the world.” However the Hells Varys managed that. “I figured it only made sense to get their help overthrowing Rhaella. Besides… I was really going to miss the mammoths.”

“Speaking of Dragons…” He holds up the chest and pulls open the lid. “I was hoping this was yet another long forgotten truth you could enlighten us on.”

Well shit… I have basically no idea how to hatch a dragon. I think someone needs to die, the eggs go in fire, and the whole red comet thing which is years off still, means I useless here.

Inside is two stone eggs, both the green and silver one are cold when I pour them into my hand. Cersei though gets a strange gleam in her eyes and grabs the silver before I can react.

“It’s warm.” Her words make me remember the weir visions and I know what we’ll be doing tonight. She needs to know why that rock could actually hatch for her one day.​

 

Chapter 37: Ladies Night
285 AC: Cersei
​

The words my husband shares keep me up long after our conversation ends and he falls asleep. As much as I want to reject the claim Ymir makes about my true parentage, I am the only one able the feel the heat in the eggs. Well… not the only one.

My feet have brought me to the nursery, which contains all four Stark babes sharing the room with Jaenaera. The bear surprises me when he lifts his head in evaluation of my intent. I nearly have a heart attack before something satisfies him and Teddy curls back up on his torn rug.

The Blackfyre sleeps curled around the green egg and I curl my fingers around the silver one I have yet to do anything with. Hearing my husband admit he only has the barest idea of where to begin hatching the eggs was shocking to say the least.

If we can’t hatch Dragons, what do I actually gain from proclaiming the truth to the world? If Jaime was still alive or we had been raised as Targaryens the name would matter to me, but as it stands I can’t afford to turn ‘Father’ even more against me.

Lyanna’s bastard is also my kin apparently and very much in line with my own conception. Reaching down to wipe some gunk from his nose, I smile when Jaehaerys’ breathing loses the wheezing. My hand is covered in filth and I can only shudder when I realize what I have done.

I’ve never been undone by a child’s face before, but something in this boy makes me see Jaime’s face. The tilt of his nose and crinkle in his ears are a perfect match for my twin and I’s own.

“I might not be able to claim this as mine yet, but I hope you can keep it warm for me little nephew.” Taking the highly alert silver haired boy into my arms, I sit carefully in the rocking chair.

Salem has grown bored with his prowling and lays down at my feet with a yawn that I return. Making sure the boy’s head is supported I carefully place the silver egg in his grip. “You know it’s warm too, don’t you?”

He giggles happily and I feel movement in my belly respond to the sound. “We’re just not going to tell my ‘Father’ until I have a dragon to keep him reasonable.”

Maege and her Amazons now answer to me foremost, with the sworn oaths making it clear they are even to defend me against my husband if the need arise. Though the fact that they can never initiate an attack on him with them, does limit any options I may need in the future.

He’s not the savage I first assumed and once he made an effort on his appearance… I actually find him reasonably easy on the eyes. The squashed face and prominent brow will mean he is never seen as handsome, but I could be dealing with the ape he first appeared to be.

Since he’s actually promising to be work together with me as an equal and I have seen nothing to prove otherwise, I should give him a chance to deliver on his promises before I consider getting rid of him. As long as he keeps his hands to himself and my children take clear precedent, I have almost everything I have ever dreamed of.

My nephew squawks in my arms when the rocking stops, forcing me to hum one of the songs Mother taught me. It takes a few tries to remember the tune but it does soothe Jae back to sleep. Maybe I will be good at this whole being a mother thing after all.

I don’t notice my eyelids droop as I rock, my hand slowing as it strokes Salem’s head. The sound of his purring lulls me into a relaxed state even faster than the rocking alone, the last thing I am aware of is his piercing orange eyes asking me to play.


…


When my eyes open again and I am staring at my own sleeping face, it takes me a few moments to realize the truth. I’m not a spirit looking at my own dead body but am inside Salem’s mind again.

Whining from the door has me swivel to view my observer, but I only see the fluffy white body of Winter. Lyanna’s wolf is by far the most energetic of the four, but right now she just stares with an eerily human look in her eyes.

As the canine looks from me the my real body I realize this is Lyanna in her own companion, the same as I am now wearing Salem’s skin. She smiles with her eyes and walks towards my body, licking my hand before switching to her child’s cheek.

I want to scowl and say this doesn’t mean anything, but I find a kinship in the clear blue eyes staring me down. Lyanna tilts her head and sniffs the air, pressing her nose right against the silver egg.

After a far longer time than I will ever admit to, she manages to get me to follow her from the room. Some scent far to faint for me to notice has her leading me on a very direct path downwards.

We avoid the few members of the Stark household that cross our path and eventually I find us in front of the crypt doors.


…


“Shh, don’t wake the babes.” Lyanna hisses when my own eyes blink open back in the nursery. “We only have a short time before sunrise.”

“What are you talking about?” Her face looks nearly crazed as she peers down at me and I realize that must be the expression that cowed Jaime in our youth.

With a smug grin Lyanna grabs her sons carefully and places him back in his crib. “Either someone brought these eggs into the crypt, or I finally know what I’ve been smelling for months.”

“Why would Winterfell have a Dragon egg in the crypts?” I frown at the absurdity, but Lyanna just smirks at my doubt.

“Prince Jacaerys and Vermax paid us a visit and the small folk have told of a Dragon beneath Winterfell ever since.” She leads me past the door to the crypts and we descend into the narrow steam filled caverns below them. “The castle is heated by the springs down here, but some pools are too deep to have ever been checked.”

Rhaegar showed me that heat and flame are less effective on him… when I tried to fight my way free with a log from the fire. She holds up her hands and reveals burn scars on each palm. “I heard what you said to my son and will keep my mouth shut… as long as you take a look in the springs for me.”

I think we might just become friends, she’s far more cunning than I thought a Stark would be. Doesn’t hurt that she’s one of my few equals now.

“… Alright.” Sighing at my carelessness, I find myself in a cavern filled with tunnels snaking through the rock. “Which ones are the deeper ones?”

“This way but watch your step, we don’t use these ones very often and the rocks are slimy back here.”

We arrive at the three pools of steaming water and Lyanna disrobes casually. “I can only sit in these ones for a minute or two, but I’ll pull you out if you tug twice.” Tying a rope around a rock I can’t help but notice the scars covering her back.

“Hurry up, the cooks will be down once they have the meal ready.” She snorts in irritation when she realizes I haven’t made a move to disrobe myself.

The water is warm when I slide in shortly, but Lyanna give me an impressed stare. “It’s kind of hot, but it’s not too uncomfortable.” Feeling around with my feet, I keep a firm grip on the rope tied around my waist.

“It’s not boiling I admit, but that should have already turned you red.”

“I wouldn’t stay in for more than a few minutes if it was only for my own comfort, but I think I could endure it for ten if I really had to.” Squinting when she lifts the lantern above her head, I see something shimmer in the far end of the pool. “Wait, I saw something.”

It ends up being deeper than my head, but I can definitely see a single shimmering rock. It reflects the light from the lantern and casts a copper orange glow in the water. Filling my lungs with air, I dive into the water before Lyanna can argue.

My eyes lock onto the egg and I can feel the water starting to scald my skin when my fingers grasp the stone scales. How many tugs was it again?

Growing faint I decide to just yank on the rope as many times as I can before losing consciousness. My body flows backwards towards the edge of the pool and I feel arms wrap around me.

When my head breaks the surface and I take fresh air into my body, Lyanna carefully lifts me from the water. “You did it it!”

I grin up at the excited face and hand her the egg. “This ones for Jae, I want mine back now.”

“Jacaerys must have left it for Sara… as proof he was to return for her.” Lyanna knows far more about the legends of Winterfell than I, which makes me wish I could recall any legends of eggs in the Rock.​

 

Chapter 38: Spring is Upon Us
285 AC: Eddard Stark
​

The festivities that began once my Lords arrived are well underway, with Lord Bolton beside me with an intense gaze on his face. “You truly intend to make the prize of the ski jump a place as your squire?”

“Lyanna may be our champion on the ice and Benjen defended our honor in the race.” Four wolves proved far faster than even nine sled dogs, ensuring we received the new fur that makes up Queen Cersei’s wedding cloak. “But any who can best me on skies is deserving of something worth wile.”

He returns my smirk with a contemplative nod. “It would seem I will have to use this as the chance to prove my superiority in at least one way.”

“Knock it off, our games about to start.” Benjen turns back to hiss at us intently.

The Mormont and Forrester teams meat in the middle of the ice the shake hands, with the Bears roaring in victory while the skate off the ice. The boats of the Walrus People are going to Bear Island and will ensure the family keeps rising.

As the Manderly Merlings and our own Dire Wolves arrive on the rink with snarls, my breath catch in my throat. “Benjen… what did you do?” The player taking center ice on our side is a bone chillingly familiar knight.

“Made sure our best player had the chance to defend herself of course.” My brother cheers for the Knight of the Laughing Tree, who dances around Wendel Manderly and scores with ease on her first try.

The Manderly knight doesn’t grow flustered at his defeat and congratulates our team before his face changes. Manderlys have always had a boisterous smile and happy eyes, but Wendel’s entire face seems to have been carved from ice.

When my sister tries to repeat her spin a second time Wendel checks her hard to the ground and dashes forward. I don’t have time to be concerned for her, the thick padding insisted on by the Duke ensures she barely feels the impact and scrambles back into the fray.

Rhythmic booming from the strange instruments the Giants call xylophones echo over the cheering audience accompanied by the Hornwoods own specialty. The didgeridoos create a deep reverberation that goes well with the other sounds that the Umbers bagpipes and Giants provide.

I don’t even notice at first when the Duke starts to clap his hands and then stomp his foot every few notes. But when the action spreads through the audience and even my own family take part I become aware of the chanting now being added.

“This is more interesting to watch than the Giants throwing trees as far as they could,” Drawls Lord Bolton, drawing my gaze back to the game.

The Manderlys are doing better against my sister than any of the other teams this week and I find myself shocked to find the tie score. Benjen growls each time Ser Wendel pushes towards our net, but cheers with excitement when Lyanna reclaims the lead.

“Ser Wendel is certainly doing his best, I heard he even tried to get a Giant to be his goalie.” The amused voice of my wife brings a smile to my face and I turn to share it with her.

“… Uh, Ned.” Benjen interrupts the moment with a concerned tone. “What happens in a tie?”

“We can ju-” Whatever I was going to say is forgotten the second I turn to the action.

Lyanna and Wendel have abandoned the game once a collision sent both to the ice. At first they wrestle to gain the better position, but soon the hits turn into far more affectionate touches.

“What are you talking about?” My goodsister Osha blurts out with a grin. “Lyanna’s on top, she’s clearly winning.”

“I don’t care who’s winning, this game is over!” I roar in frustration, because of course Lyanna is going make a scene. Though most probably think Wendel is declaring to the world his love of swallowing swords. My sister’s identity is at least concealed… never mind, she just threw away her helmet.


…

​

Davos Seaworth
​

My new clothing is stiff and itchy, but displays my new houses colors to the pride of my Marya and so I suffer through it for her. Mors provided the wool and my sons look every bit the children of a thane as they eagerly await the first throw of the day.

The Duke’s owl is nearby watching me with his ever present stare and I do my best to put the strange dream from my mind. I know those eyes are a window and I fear peering inside again so soon.

“This isn’t going to turn out like the hockey game yesterday I hope?” Marya’s voice is stern when the first Giant walks towards the pile of river smoothed round rocks.

“But the Princess beat that knight up all by herself,” My second eldest chirps through his missing front tooth. “I want to see something like that again!”

Sharing a relieved look with my wife, I reach over and pat Allard on the head with a chuckle. “I think what is planned for today is already excitement enough Al.”

In nine piles and in the shape of a triangle are a balls of snow stacked on top of each other as the Giant takes aim with his nose. Horse hair has been mixed in with each snowgiant, giving the real ones a chance to practice against cavalry formations.

I try not to imagine the faces of the small folk I know on the chunks of snow sent flying when the boulder crashes through the three on the right. That could just have easily been thirty men and horses torn into bloody bits.

Those who have taken part in battle recognize this, with the veterans of the Rebellion looking disturbed. The more fortunate in the crowd are unaware of the show of force on display and simply cheer along with the women and children.

Twelve Giants show off their skills against the snow pillars before the wooden wagons are wheeled out into the field. Again these have been filled with the smell of the target, but the curtains blowing in the wind make me frown.

Those are supposed to be boats! I realize the wagons had all been pissed on by the men yesterday to replicate the stench of a ship.

A group of five Giants form a line and pull out the slings designed specially for them before each one grabs a barrel sized boulder. I flinch when all of the stones sail through the air in a single volley even though only two actually hit. The sound of splintering wood is brief, but the wagons hit explode into pieces.

The other three rocks land near enough that a wave of powdery snow buries all three almost entirely. Hundreds of those being thrown from Crackclaw will sink or disperse any fleet that stands between the Giants and Dragonstone.

At least when the show moves on to more recognizable wrestling I can repress the knowledge of what I will soon be a part of. Watching two massive people grapple and slap each other is something we have all seen.

Them being nearly naked and wearing only a white loincloth is less common, but it is better than the North’s own custom of wrestling nude. Seeing the Duke nude during his bedding ceremony was enough for me.

I could recognize the gratitude in his bride’s eyes, when he insisted that it would take both the men and women present to disrobe him. When he threw the wedding cloak onto the men surging for the Duchess she actually smiled.

Grabbing Cersei in his hands, he just charged towards his tower for the night amid groans of disappointment. The taunt of ‘Run run run as fast as you can. You can’t catch me, I’m the Gianthead man!’ Was a strange saying I admit, but it made the drunkards laugh when he continued to fight off any man who gave chase.

It may have started a new tradition when the tower door was locked and the undergarments throw back out the window soon after. The men threw themselves into a frantic heap for them and the struggle didn’t end until each of them had at least a single scrap of torn fabric.

The bridal gown was only thrown out once the men had cleared the area, with the Duchess shouting for the maidens to fight for it. They did so and with far more vigor than the men, each taking great care to only injure each other.

Jarlessa Maege was the eventual victor and she clutched her still in one piece prize to her side for the rest of the night. I’ve heard people talk of doing so again, especially the lords and ladies with daughters about to wed themselves.

It might not stick in the North for long, but I think it will be a permanent part of the newest Kingdom’s wedding traditions. Though I don’t believe my liege’s songs will have the same staying power, not unless he can find a far better singer for his ballad ‘Bright Eyes’.

The children did seem to like the shorter little tune I guess, the one about being a great big happy family. It just made me cringe for some reason though, like I knew it came from a source of evil.

​

 

Chapter 39: Defiant Dragon
285 AC: Viserys Targaryen
​

The shackle around my neck has been cutting into my skin the last few weeks now and I wince when the wizard flings yet more powder on me and the egg. Somehow this sadistic Ironborn is being led by the very stars themselves, nothing else could explain the supernatural luck of his finds.

Grey Ghost was known to disappear for weeks, even months at a time. In all these decades no one ever managed to find a trace of a nest. Yet the Silence traveled directly to the cliffs near Myr and found a single egg not smashed during the cave-in years ago.

My constant companion since his capture soon after obtaining the dragon’s egg is a wizard from Myr. His ship was taken easily, with only the magical man being done so alive. His claim of being able to hatch the egg has not been entirely untrue… though I refuse to tell the one eyed Squid about the heat I can now feel inside.

Life is coming back to the stone covered in indigo scales and I know it’s my only way to escape this monster. Mother should have had the babe by now. I realize sadly, but don’t even have the fluids available to shed a single tear. I’ll gladly let the rebels win… I just want to go home.

The door is kicked open and the snarling Euron swaggers into the cabin. “Got that damn egg hatched yet?”

“I’m close Prince Euron, I swear it!” The fat man is bruised black and blue, with dozens of untreated wounds on his bare torso. He shakes in fear as Euron strides forward and grabs him around the throat with his iron tight grip.

“I told you to only speak the names of spells needed to hatch my dragon,” The whispered hiss of the one eyed man makes my blood run cold. “But it’s your lucky day, I’ve been shown an even better use for you my dead wizard.”

“You too boy,” He directs his cruel gaze towards me and unlocks my shackle. “The crows may not be flying this far out to sea, but the stars have told me what I need to do.”

I know better to resist him, but the wizard is a little bit to slow for Euron’s liking. The hook replacing the hand Ser Darry removed sinks into the Myrish man’s side with a sickening sound. A year ago that would have nearly broken me, but by now my senses have been desensitized to the cruelties taking place on the Silence.

“Come on Chum, I just need some help clearing the smoke.” Grinning at me down at me with evil in his lone eye Euron opens the wizard’s throat and kicks the feebly flailing body overboard.

He grabs me by the hair when I only now try to run but it is far too late. “You’re going to die slow and to the sound of nothing but mocking laughter! My brother will see it takes days before you are finally allowed to be buried.” My last words only bring an amused smirk to the pirate’s face as he knees me in the gut.

“Where there is smoke, you have fire.” He whispers in my ear slowly. “And look at all that blood in the water. Let’s hope my lady above is right about this.” This makes him chuckle for a few seconds before resuming his own taunting explanation.

I don’t have a way to fight back at all and find myself flung overboard. I crash into the waves gasping for breath but when I break the surface something heavy strikes my face. The heat of the egg is unmistakable and all I can do is cling to it as we sink into the darkness.


…
​

​

Opening my eyes was not something I thought to ever do again but when I do the sting of salt assaults them. Everything is bathed in blackness around me and the stone beneath me is submerged… yet somehow also oily against my skin.

Some kind of thick slime is over my face, flowing into my mouth and nose very painfully. I can breath but not move, even when dozens of glowing red eyes open around me.

The blood colored glow illuminates the room and confirms that it is indeed a room made of black rock like on Dragonstone. The beings gazing down at me are not the focus and so remain shrouded mostly in darkness.

What I can actually see of these one eyed creatures makes my heart freeze. They have at least six squiggly legs that remind me of the eels sometimes hung in the market back home. No hair of any kind covers the black or maybe dark purple bodies or the long barrel shaped heads.

Four arms float beside them like ominous kelp, with the upper set being nearly thrice as long as the shorter arms. Some swim closer and blind me with the crimson glow but the arms dragging me out side I do feel.

Dozens of buildings surround us when we emerge, the only light visible is the shimmering stars. No I realize as they drag me through the undersea valley ever upwards. It’s thousands of them… the entire ocean floor is made from the oily black rock!

I can start to see the wreckage of ships littering the area, with glowing red lights swimming in and out of the hulls. Flags of countless fleets fill my vision yet it is a Lannister Lion that draws my gaze.

Something hard slides into my right hand, with my left suddenly filled with the warm scaled egg that had been thrown into the Smoking Sea along with me. It takes a few moments to identify the new object, which I nearly drop upon discovering is a sword.

Take back your families throne and bring scalding vengeance upon those who would keep it from you. The words aren’t spoken and I don’t hear them inside my own mind, the knowledge instead just exists as an unbreakable commandment inside my heart. The Water Spider will aid you when the time is right but for now grow strong little Sea Dragon.

Pain fills my skull and this must be what it would feel like for that thickheaded Giant to step on it. As the slime slides off of my face I nearly retch, instead though I feel my lungs burn and my vision grow dark again.


…


The sound of waves crashing against the sand wakes me slowly as the sensation of my blood boiling fills my veins. When I clench my fists in anger, I find the sword and egg are still held in them.

Valyrian steel… but how? I freeze in shock but I nearly drop both when the indigo egg twitches in my grip.

As it shakes fiercely I carefully place it on the black sand beneath me. To my shock the sand hisses instantly and the intense heat begins to melt the sand. The air distorts and makes it hard to see what is happening though I refuse to look away.

Reaching down I start to chip at the egg with the red tinted long sword, grinning wide with anticipation when I hear squawking from behind the shell. When the shell cracks open to release the dragon with scales of such dark blue they look black without any light on them, I pull the snapping creature to my chest.

It doesn’t have smoke escaping from it’s shell like the tales say, a thick scalding mist instead rises into the light of the rising sun. I try to coo words of comfort to the dragon but find my voice gone.

Do not panic! I firmly command myself. It’s not like we have anyone to talk to anyway. Of course I shouldn’t have taunted the Seven like that, because my blood curdles only a second later.

“Little Dragon,” Euron Greyjoy struts towards me, his missing eye’s socket glowing red from behind his black leather patch. “Looks like the Drowned God didn’t want you.”

He wears a full set of dark grey armor, the ripples making my eyes widen in shock. In the smoky gloom of the black sand beach, he cuts a terrifying sight as he smiles like a madman.

“Seems we only needed the wizard the clear a way through the smoke, to bad none of the doubters will be able to say anything.” Laughing at some joke I’m unaware of he eventually notices my expression of confusion. “Took us a whole day to reach this isle and the tower only has enough room for my own crew.”

“Came out the first morning to a beach covered in blood and half my men missing. Only ever found claw marks coming from and going back into the sea.” He shrugs uncaring at the crews of almost twenty ships dying in a single night. “The rest didn’t want to chance a second night and tried to sail away by themselves… you might still see the ships floating offshore.”

​

 

Chapter 40: Off To A Rocky Start
285 AC: Dok Tur Ymir
​

Around me the fleet of ships that it has taken nearly a year to build are being loaded. Only warriors are coming in the first of three trips South, with ten thousand Freefolk and two hundred giants making up my forces.

Most of the ships are wide barges intended to carry my over sized people, though thirty of my hundred are the more combat ready galleys. Barrels of rendered fat have been stocked on deck under the xylophones on each boat, which should add to the terror of my coming attack.

The thought of a hundred ships booming out my arrival brings a careless smirk to my face, which Cersei of course notices. “It is not a good sign that you are already keeping me away from the big events.” Her arms are crossed and a scowl is leveled at me when I look her way. “I was promised input, which I can not do from the North.”

“You know what,” I’m not going to argue about this, she’s six months pregnant. “If you can convince Queen Catelyn, Lyanna, Osha, and Maege that it’s a good idea, you can come.” If four women who have given birth tell me I’m being stupid back her up… I’ll admit I know nothing about women and stay out of any further decisions regarding her pregnancies.

“Yer being an idiot, she needs to be present when you first arrive.” Maege immediately butts in with a growl my way. “You keep saying first impressions matter, so make sure she is seen as your equal right when you land.”

Agreeing with a snort, Lyanna is surprisingly quick to back up my wife. “Or are you just a big old liar like every other man who makes promises to a young maiden he has no intention of keeping?” When did they start getting along so well?

“… You still need to ask the Queen.” I mumble awkwardly and quickly dash away after a work crew heading for the docks. “I still have work to do, come get me when you find her!”

When we do reach the water I hear the chirping of Pearl’s pod playing in the bay and stop to observe them. I guess we really will start taking on each others traits, cause I don’t think your new friends even all the same species.

I can see a few white belugas swimming around a humpback and her calf, while nearby even a trio of black and white whales act as unnatural shepherds for the pod. Geysers of water shoot into the air when the six sperm whales surface in a cloud of ink, clearly back from another successful hunt in the deeps.

Pearl notices me and makes a beeline for me, her wake rocking the boats as she slows to a stop. “We’re finally going South girl, I hope your friends can handle the weather.”

My answer is a series of low frequency squeaks but I can sense something wrong. “Hey, what’s wrong?” She rolls onto her side and allows me to massage her belly. “Got a tummy ache from all those squid don’t ya?”

I lose track of time with Pearl who introduces me to her companions. Though Cersei doesn’t seem to have appreciated my earlier escape, striding across the dock with Ned and his wife.

“What happened to having an important job to do?” Her voice is shrill and I can’t really blame her for this, I was supposed to be loading the boats.

“This is important…” I scramble for an answer and get saved by the breaking of a foul wind. Pearl’s satisfied groan precedes a foul odor blasting us all. My eyes though lock onto the large amber mass floating in the water. “Do you have any idea how much that stuff is worth?”

Trying not to gag I reach into the water with an open barrel and scoop up the mass. “I’ve heard jokes about your father, but some whales really do shit gold.” You just need to keep it in saltwater and the sun for a year or so first.


…


We pass the tip of Crackclaw Point cautiously, the whales guiding the fleet deftly towards Dragonstone under the light of dawn. Claw Isle is eerily silent with no lights in any building visible as we sail past.

“That doesn’t bode well.” The Great Walrus whispers to me grimly. “Thought you said the war was over?” My admiral’s words are an echo of my own worried thoughts so I just act calm as best I can.

“Could know we’re coming and be on Dragonstone… maybe the refugees from King’s Landing made it all the way up here.” Scowling at the fading sight I share my last guess. “Ironborn missed out on the rebellion, maybe they decided to strike before the ownership was settled.”

The shift in the wind draws my gaze forward. “Ships ahead, start the beat!” My call is echoed across the fleet and soon each ship begins to boom out the ‘Jaws’ theme. The Royal Fleet breaks apart when we approach, the thirty or so ships forming a clear path between them as they all raise white sails.

“What does that mean?” My admiral frowns up at me and awaits command.

“It means they surrender against our obvious superiority.” Cersei snaps at him but I can smell the lemony scent of her own confusion grow. “Now let’s make our grand entrance.”

Grinning down at her, I lead her to the prow of the ship and a waiting Pearl. The black waters of the bay conceal her body almost entirely and make it look like I am standing on the very water itself.

Once I steady myself I offer a hand to Cerseri and she climbs on carefully. Her cousin and first member of our Royal Guard lead twenty of my best men down to stand beside me on shaking legs.

“Send the barges to Crackclaw and have the Giants start digging North.” It’ll take a couple weeks at least to reach the ones we dropped off on the way but technicalities might just keep me from facing Dorne before I’m ready. “We have almost seventy miles from Rook’s Rest to the Bay of Crabs and I want Crackclaw to be an island before Dorne hears of our arrival.”

Seventy digging from the North and the same number going from Rook’s Rest need half my men to protect them from the Reach men trying to claim my land. But it looks like I don’t even need the two giants I left on each galley to sink the Royal Fleet. The sight of the sixty Giants with slings at the ready has cowed the loyalists.

“Just get us on dry ground,” Commands Cersei with a hiss, so I whistle for Pearl to swim towards the island. “Getting real sick of all this rocking about.”

“You just stay put until I say it’s alright, I don’t like how easy this is.” Maege at least is being cautious.

Our arrival at the docks is to the shocked silence of the Queen’s forces. No weapons are drawn and all I can smell is fear in the crowd as we step off Pearl onto the docks. Her mass pulls a big enough wave in with her that hopefully those watching miss how we really arrived.

“Kneel to the Duke and Duchess!” Styr bellows gleefully at the knights, his bronze ax brandished as a warning to any that dare argue. “Or don’t and we can fight for this rock you call home… either way we’re stealing it.”

One man is brave enough to speak for his people, a Velaryon judging by his seahorse painted shield. “Dragonstone and Driftmark are yours.” He kneels and this has a several more Lords swear themselves to me without any blood shed. Though this does complicate all my promises for land.

“What happened to House Celtigar?” I notice a distinct lack of crabs in the crowd.

“… You didn’t eat every man woman and child on Claw Isle?” Lord Velaryon shows his shock plain on his face.

“No and really what kind of plan was this if I did?” My words don’t set the crowd at ease, only make the stench of fear begin to percolate among them all once again. “Wouldn’t this have just been a feast?”

“… Oh.”

Snorting at the shame faced Velaryon, Cersei commands like she was born here. “Bring us to Queen Rhaella, the she needs to kneel in front of all of you.”

“Yeah.” I realize my wife has a very good point. “Why are you the one surrendering the Queen’s castle?” He refuses to meet my eyes, so I growl angrily. “Where is the Queen?”

“She was not willing to surrender without at least an attempt at defense first.” Lord Velaryon admits finally. “We objected to more lives being lost in a war Queen Rhaella already lost.”

“Answer my husbands question you quivering Seahorse!” Snaps Cersei in sudden unity with me. “Where is Rhaella?”

“… The dungeon.”

Scowling at the traitorous lord, plans for who will replace him are already flooding my mind. “And her daughter?” Shocked gasps fill the crowd and Lord Velaryon looks about to faint.

“How did you know? We never sent word of her birth outside the castle.” A Longwaters knight barks out anxiously as I notice the Maester is missing.

“First one to answer my questions without any of their own… gets to keep their land with borders unchanged.”

“The Maester has her in the Sept!” A Brune knight hollers at the top of his lungs. “They’re going to try hiding her as a dragonseed and smuggle her away first chance they get.”

“Brownhollow or Dyre Den?” I frown at the pockmarked knight with stringy yellow hair that looks like soggy straw. “Either way you can keep your land. Everyone else is going to need to prove they know what loyalty is.”​

 

Chapter 41: Putting On A Show
285 AC: Dok Tur Ymir
​

“So I don’t just do whatever I want,” I whisper to Cersei seated on my shoulder as we approach the castle. “How would you like to handle this?” It is her aunt I’m invading, I know I’d be kind of mad if she just killed my brother without asking first.

“That all depends on whether Rhaella kneels,” She hisses back at me with a scowl creasing her brow. “If she does… we wait and see if I have a boy.” If no one knows they are related, it does give us a way to bind ourselves to the Targaryen loyalists.

“If I have a girl, you still have your b-” She just barely stops herself from saying bastard at the last second. “Boy Ryk.”

“Thank you.” She smirks at me, hopefully over how easy it is to work together and not how simple she thinks it is to manipulate me. “If she won’t kneel?”

Cersei considers this carefully before answering with a sigh. “We can lock Rhaella in her quarters instead at the very least. Something more befitting her station.”

“Alright. But no changing your mind halfway through the conversation.” We need to be united on this.

Lord Sweetport and the Brune knight lead my party inside the black stone castle nervously, clearly expecting me and Mag the Mighty to turn savage at any moment. The halls are empty, with even my nose not finding many walking around the building.

“Mag, don’t let anyone inside if you don’t know them by smell.” I clap the scowling Giant on the arm with a grin. “If they try…”

“I smoosh them.” He returns my smile with one of his own and blocks the hallway.

“Everyone else make sure the castle is clear.” I put Cersei down carefully and descend into the cells first. Designed with Dragons in mind, the stairs are just big enough for me to fit if I hunch.

Standing as soon as she hears our arrival, Queen Rhaella manages to keep both her grace and dignity in the face of defeat. “Here to gloat over your victory, or maybe you just want to kill me yourself?”

“Sorry to disappoint you Rhaella, but I’m really not the savage the Dornish made me out to be.”

She snorts quite ungracefully at my comment. “Oh really? I seem to recall you have a habit of stealing children.”

“Dearest Aunt, you have a very simple choice to make.” Cersei takes charge of the conversation, striding towards the iron bars with confidence in every step. “Do you kneel and take your place as our…” Cersei pauses with a frown aimed back at me. “What did you say the equivalent of our Hand was to be?”

“Vizier.”

Nodding gratefully Cersei turns back to the surprised Queen. “Yeah, that.” She grabs the hilt of Darksister and reveals the rippling metal sheathed at her hip. “You’ve seen how loyal your men are, so why not kneel and punish them with us?”

“You called me Aunt… Joanna must have told you?” Shame fills Rhaella’s face as Cersei shakes her head no.

“My husband did.” I get an honest to god smile from Cersei this time, one that reaches her eyes and everything. “He is proving… adequate so far.”

It looks like Rhaella is considering it but we have one last hurdle to cross first. “And what of your sister?”

“Half sister and since it can not officially be acknowledged…” Cersei explains with her free hand going to her belly. “Let us hope this is Jaime come back to me and we can solve this issue of succession with a betrothal.”

“And if you have a girl?”

Cersei just shrugs casually and reaches for the hanging key. “I will just have to try again.”

“Since I haven’t seen Ser Selmy, I assume he’s waiting inside the Sept for a final attempt at single combat?” Or maybe he’s just going the Darry route and plans to smuggle her off to Essos.

“Most likely. He took the Princess and those few who remained loyal when the traitors revealed themselves.” Rhaella stares at me now with concern in her eyes. “And I’m supposed to believe you have no desire for revenge against me yourself?”

“You said it yourself, I wasn’t making a very good first impression. Decided to work a lot harder on my second one.” Giving her an embarresed shrug I sigh. “Sorry about the whole trying to make you raise my kid thing.”

It takes almost a full minute for Rhaella’s laughter to end before she realizes I’m serious. “The Blackfyre is your child and everyone is just fine with such an obvious falsehood?”

“Wouldn’t say fine exactly but it was part of the deal.” Mutters Cersei as the cell door swings open with a rusty screech. “Now are you kneeling, or do we have to lock you and Daenerys up in your quarters?”

“Hasn’t the island already been surrendered to you?” Rhaella is dubious but does begin gathering her skirts.

If Stannis still had loyalists in the series, they’ll be nearly impossible to route out. “If it’s not seen done by you, those loyal to your family will spend our entire reign undermining us.”

“Didn’t see them undermine the turncoats.”

“Whatever happened to the Celtigars was blamed on us. Someone even accused me of eating the Lord’s legs fried in butter.” The stench of fear in the crowd made it hard to laugh at that, they actually believed it.

Rhaella even lets out a hint of terror when I bring up Claw Isle. “That wasn’t you?”

“Why does everyone think that? I never ate anyone last time I came South.” This is starting to feel like Giant sized discrimination. “What happened to everyone being impressed with me?” I liked that a hell of a lot better than everyone being terrified.

“That’s not what the Tyrell forces have been telling the refugees all winter.” She smirks at my frown. “I didn’t really have anything good to say otherwise… considering our last encounter.”

“Well it seems this is by far the better offer.” She kneels gracefully despite the location and bows her head.

Since this whole affair has been so dull and I had been prepared for at least a little action, I decide to have a little bit of fun with Barristan. I hope it’s not too bold for him, he is kind of a prude.


…


A very nervous Lord Sweetport and the pockmarked Brune knight lead us to the Sept, scores of knights follow with only hushed whispers at the sight of Rhaella walking behind me and Cersei. “Go in and talk to Ser Barristan, tell him I have the Queen.”

Lucion Lannister does so with a cocky smirk, the letter signed by Rhaella clutched in his armored fist. He enters with the shaking Brune knight as I start to stretch as casually as I can.

It’s several minutes before the door bursts open and Ser Barristan leads a valiant last charge against me. His four fellows are only a few paces behind him and I catch the white cloaks wink in time to adjust my stance.

“Get away from the Queen!” He swings far slower than I know he can and leaves me plenty of time to lift my foot safely. “Don’t you dare think to aid us now, any traitor who draws steel will taste mine!” He follows the instructions and barks at any watching knight who may get ideas.

“True valor is something I knew must exist in the heart of some on this black rock!” I swing an open hand with great care not to injure the knight I hit and wince when he rolls across the dirt. He’s a real trooper, all of these guys are getting rewarded big time for this little show. “Come and face me now for your Queen’s right to live free from shackles!”

He does so with a far faster flurry of swings than his first, actually slicing into my padded armor several times. “You speak truly on this?” I can barely hear the carefully hidden worry in his voice as he glances to his Queen.

“Indeed. If any of you can make me bleed, Cersei and I will keep Rhaella as our adviser.” The crowd gasps at this and calls of support begin to flow towards Barristan’s fellows. “It just just quite feel right taking Dragonstone without facing it’s champions.”

I signal before kicking forward and allow the Boggs knight to roll away safely. My follow up stomp knocks him off his feet and lets me knock him into the horses water trough.

The charade goes on for a while with the third knight being tossed into a wagon filled with hay. Braving a soft punch, the Pyne knight collapses in the mud so Ser Selmy can use the chance to run up my arm.

He makes it just past my elbow before I manage to shake him off but he stabs down as he falls. The tip stabs into my skin just as he loses his grip and both fall to the ground with a clatter. Selmy draws his dagger and moves to continue only to find Darksister at his throat.

“I believe we win.” Cersei purrs in satisfaction when the crowd gasps.

“Sorry but I did say they only had to make me bleed.” Pulling the sword free some of the blood remains and makes those watching roar in triumph. “Looks like Queen Rhaella will be our Vizier, provided she kneels of course.”

With a scowl at the mud she steps over to the stone steps of the Sept and kneels in full view of her loyalists. “Dragonstone is yours.”

“Great… now first order of business.” I watch the crowd for anyone about to run. “Who are the lords so quick to change sides and lock you up? We really don’t like oath breakers where I come from.” And I don’t need anyone in charge who will switch sides before even trying to fight back.​