#kos closed

With Robb’s kingdoms in apparent turmoil, Bethany was not sure where her loyalty was. On one had, she had her duty to her family and her house and they had never turned away from an oath and she had sworn her heart and sword to Robb and yet the Riverlands were the next choice for Aegon to invade and conquer. She had lost family and friends to the war of five kings and to have the North and Riverlands away from the seven kingdoms but it seemed that more people were wanting the old ways back again.  She rode through on horseback with no carriages or guards it was supposed to be a simple ride to seek an audience with the king. As she rode through the cliffs, Bethany had grown more cautious when the sun began to set and the voices of strangers had grown louder as the seconds slipped away. Before she knew what had come, Bethany found herself in the midst of former Greyjoy loyalists who seemed more than happy to have found a lady on her own. They teased and taunted her before they beat her but they clearly didn’t expect a girl of Bethany’s size to fight back. When she could, she retrieved her knives from her garter and fought enough to get away. She ran on foot until she came across guards with the familiar three-headed dragon sigil. They all stood to attention and had their swords pointed at Bethany even though her hands were raised to show she had no weapons, only the ones they could not see hidden in her garter. “My name is Bethany Blackwood and I mean no harm!” Once they had lowered their swords, she explained that she was on her way to see King Aegon over a matter regarding the Riverlands and then she explained about her run in with the former Greyjoy loyalists. They arranged for two men to escort her to the king and she waited in her black fur lined cloak for the king to be free to receive her. Bethany’s face had started to hurt more and there was a heat more so on one side where one of the men had hit her hard. She looked a mess but the business she needed to discuss was not worth waiting for the king to be free and to make herself pretty.

Lord Tytos at Raventree’s entrance to greet his daughter, dressed in his magnificent raven-feather cloak and his hair a little longer than she had remembered but his salt-and-peppered beard still remained close-cropped. His eyebrows were pulled down together while his lips were tightly closed, with the red margins of his lips becoming more narrow, Bethany almost turned back to the Vale.  Brynden Blackwood stood close by his father, showing everyone that he was his father’s heir as he stood to his father’s side and he had looked older too, though not nearly as powerful as their lord father. Bethany was shown into her father’s study and he explained the reasons for his decision to send her to the Free Cities.

Bethany would be sent to Essos and the Free Cities, to explore the world in which she lived. Bethany could not refuse, she had longed to see such cities since she was a child and for Tytos to not only give his permission for this but to pay for it, it was not an offer she could refuse.Not only that, she was to learn to become a better fighter, one to protect the house they were loyal to.  Her ship would leave from Maidenpool, arranged by her father’s friends of House Mooton and from there Bethany would leave the Bay of Crabs and head to Pentos. The travel was not the best as the boat felt as if it would never stop rocking, but after she had adjusted to the frequent movements and overcome the sea sickness, Bethany could just about see Pentos in the distance. Once she arrived, Bethany was set up with some decent accommodation but she had spent the first week taking in the city. It was different from Westeros, the city was ruled in a way in which wealth equaled power and throughout the city, music filled its streets.  Bethany had learned tales of the prince who ruled over the Pentoshi people. Bethany did not spend much time in Pentos and after a week or two, she had made her way to Norvos, further North of the Free Cities. Bethany had found herself in awe of the Sinner’s Steps and the high city where she was housed with the ancient nobility. Bethany would find herself in awe of the great fortress-temple that had belonged to the bearded priests, overlooking the lower city and the rivers that spread out along the muddy shores.  The riverfront almost reminded her of home. Not everything in Norvos was welcoming. Bethany had seen bears forced to dance out on Sinner’s Steps and was disturbed when she had heard the whispers of slave women who were forced to do the most atrocious things with the wolves. The three bells of Norvos frustrated Bethany with each sound. They dictated every move, when to rise, sleep, work, rest and when to pray and where they were permitted to have carnal relations. It was all so frustrating and with every bell that rang, Bethany made her plans to leave that city.

Bravos was Bethany’s favorite city to see and she spent most of her time there. She had tried to embrace the Bravosi way of life completely  and dressed in colours such as greys, purples, and blues so dark it was almost black. Bethany had seen how courtesans were celebrated and showered with gifts and of how beautiful the Nightingale had been but Bethany had not come for such things, she had heard of the Braavosi fighters and had found one to teach her in the ways of the water dance. She was in no way ready to call herself a water dancer but she had spent the majority of her time practicing such ways. It was a unique style of sword fighting and Bethany would often make her way down to the Moon Pool to watch the fighters duel with such skill and precision. Bethany had thought it odd at first, to stand sideways while wielding a slender blade, but it was a swift and deadly style that she had longed to learn and every fighter must depend on their speed and grace.

The ride back from the wall had been long and hard. Bethany had not wanted to wait to return to The Vale and thankfully, the servants had a fire already burning in her chambers. She knew that Sansa would most likely be sleeping, with it being the eve of her wedding and the eve that she would be queen. 

The morning of the wedding, the castle was practically buzzing with anticipation of the wedding. The servants and the lords and ladies were excited to have a new queen and one that bore the Stark name.  When Bethany arrived in Sansa’s chambers, she noticed how the princess glowed and of course the amazing dress. She picked up a brush and started to get the bride ready for her big day. “I suppose you haven’t slept a wink since last night. How are you feeling?”

He had gone to beyond the Wall to see if there was any truth to the rumours, to see if Tim Stone had any sense left but more so to prove that it was Wildlings and not the Others like he insisted. It was arrogance that led him out and he had done it under the nights moon but had not expected to see them. There was only one but he knew there was no chance of him winning the fight or beating it. It was tall, taller than he ever thought with, and gaunt with flesh as pale as milk and cold blue eyes as bright as stars but there was a coldness to it. Not the coldness of the Wall or the snow but a dead cold as if it was expelling all life from it. 

The fight was short and it had wounded Jaime before day broke and Jaime fell. When he opened his eyes, it was gone. Relief flooded him as much as fear had and he started his way to the wall, red crimson drops flowing from him like rain against the white snow. 

He was close the wall when he fell again. This time, he fell at the base of the Weirwood tree where so many brothers had said their oaths if they worshipped those gods. 

Then the darkness came over him....

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Naked and alone he stood, surrounded by enemies, with stone walls all around him pressing close. The Tower of Joy, he knew. He could feel the round bricks at the touch of his five fingers. It was cold. Cold and dark. He could feel his right hand, it was whole and still his. 

He held his right hand up and flexed his fingers to feel the strength in them. Without seeing himself he knew that he was fifteen and could see his white cloak of the Kingsgaurd on the floor that was made of grass and for a moment he was not in the circular tower but back when he was made Kingsgaurd. He went dizzy and then the grass floor fell away with the white cloak.

Around him stood half a dozen dark figures in cowled robes that hid their faces. They were each different heights, two only looking the height of children. “Who are you?” he demanded of them. “What business do you have here?”

They gave no answer, only walked towards him. He had no choice but to descend. Down a twisting passageway he went, narrow steps carved from the circular stone, down and down. I must go up, he told himself. Up, not down. Why am I going down? Below the earth his doom awaited, he knew with the certainty of dream; something dark and terrible lurked there, something that wanted him. Jaime tried to halt, but they walked even closer to them still. If only I had my sword, nothing could harm me.

The steps ended abruptly on echoing darkness. Jaime had the sense of vast space before him. He jerked to a halt, teetering on the edge of nothingness. It was colder. Colder than the ice at the Wall and he could see the bright ice blue eyes creeping up from the edge. He shouted, but it was not heard. 

This is my same darkness as the dream I dreamt after Harrenhal. 

They started to leave but as they did, the ice blue eyes got closer. “Don’t leave me here alone.” But they were leaving. “Don’t leave me in the dark!” Something terrible lived down here. Then they stopped. Turning back towards him, he saw them move through the darkness but still could not make them out...

They make no sound, Jaime realised. No splashing, no clink of mail nor clop of hoof. He remembered Eddard Stark, riding the length of Aerys’s throne room wrapped in silence. Only his eyes had spoken; a lord’s eyes, cold and grey and full of judgment.

“Is it you, Stark?” Jaime called. “Come ahead. I never feared you living, I do not fear you dead.”

“Not all of us are dead,” a Northern voice called out. It was familiar to Jaime as if he had lived with it for years but it had also made him feel respect for it, as if it belonged to a leader.

The hooded figure, the tallest one, that was centred lifted up his hood and let it fall behind him. Crowned in mist and grief with his long hair streaming behind him, stood Rhaegar Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone and rightful heir to the Iron Throne. Prince Rhaegar burned with a cold light, now white, now red, now dark. “I left my wife and children in your hands." Jaime watched three cloaks changed black to a Lannister red with blood dripping, the smallest one from the hood and the other from the chest then the tallest one from the hood also. The tallest of the red cloaks was crying. He knew at once who they were but they removed their hoods and he winced away at the sight. Elia Martell was stood to one side of her royal husband, holding the hands of the children she bore him. Mother and son both had their faces bashed in so it was unrecognisable but he knew who it was. Still, she wept softly. The girl, Rhaeneys, was only three but she had tears of fear and grief and blood from fifty holes in her body spilling out making the red cloak a deeper colour.

"I never thought he’d hurt them.” Jaime was struggling to stand now. “I was with the king … ”

“Cutting his throat,” said Elia.

“The king you had sworn to die for,” said the Targaryen prince.

“He was going to burn the city,” Jaime said. “To leave Robert only ashes."

A voice came from one of the black cloaks, stood right to the prince but as closer than Elia had been. As it spoke, the cloak lightened to an ice white with specks of grey. The voice was young, sweet and feminine but with a sadness to it. “No,” it said quietly as a hand came up on Rhaegars shoulder, as the prince turned to face her, he saw her hood fall and a cascade of dark hair fell from it with winter roses at the crown of her head. “He would have died with or without Jaime. The same for your children.”

Why is she here? he thought but he did remember his closest friend. the sword of the morning, speaking vaguely about the girl. Seventeen and yet she had started a war because of her beauty.

“Not all of them.” The prince replied moving just a little closer to her touch. The last black cloak had turned the same cloak colour as the womans before changing as Rhaegars had but then back to black, a cloak Jaime had worn. 

“He promised me.” And he knew she was not talking about anyone in the room.

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Heart pounding, he jerked awake and found himself in starry darkness amidst a grove of trees and ice. He was had fallen at the Weirwood tree where the men of the Watch that worshipped the Old Gods swore their oaths. He could taste bile in his mouth, and he was shivering with sweat, hot and cold at once. When he looked down, he saw a gaping wound in his stomach and felt a coldness like no other. 

Is this how I die? Cold, alone and so close to my Brothers in Black.

 He had all but given up and was ready to die when he heard a single horn blast and not long after he heard the familiar voice of the few Brothers left at the Wall carrying him inside and putting him by a fire as a maester saw to his wound. 

It was quiet as Daenerys stood and looked out over Dorne. It had been another sleepless night and exhaustion was visible upon her features. When she did sleep, she dreamed of the dragons at night, sometimes she dreamt of what she had seen in the House of the Undying. Her dreams were always filled with glimpses of the past and of the visions put into her head. He is the prince who was promised. After Aegon’s return, these words kept haunting her at night. No matter what reality was, this was what her brother had said in her vision about his infant son, the very same son who had now seemingly returned out of thin air. She had not had much time with her nephew, she had travelled to the Wall quite quickly after their return to Dorne. After resting for a few days, she decided to call upon him. It would not work simply pretending he was not there. It would not help to close her eyes to what was in front of her especially not when it was something which might turn to joy for her. For the first time since Viserys, she had someone to call family, someone of her blood.

When the door opened, she did not turn around but greeted him all the same. “Nephew.” The greeting was pleasant but not much more than that. She still had no solid ground to stand on around the fair-haired man who shared the Targaryen traits with her. He had not given her any reason to treat him with hostility, so she remained neutral and critically aware of how he could complicate things even more for her. “I trust you have been behaving while I was gone.” Daenerys knew if he was anything like her, he would not simply sit around all day and do nothing. From what she had understood, he had been forced to do that most of his life. He has been in hiding all his life, he has done nothing - why should anyone support him to be the ruler of house Targaryen? I have ruled since I was a child, the dragons are mine. She tried to suppress these thoughts which she found childish considering she could not be sure what Aegon wanted. She was determined to find a solution which would benefit both. “Come, join me. The view is the prettiest up here, I often come here to think.”

The orphanage in the Rock had already seen major improvements since Margaery and Renly had moved and given them the melted gold from the ceremony. When he visited, it was always public so the people could see that their new rulers actually cared for them and not just for the Lords but for everyone else as well. The children loved it when the King and Queen visited. Throughout the day he had spent time with a lot of the children but then he was handed a small baby, a boy, and thought of Joseph. “Do you remember when our son was this small? I was so afraid to hold him.”

When she had briefly seen Quentyn the night of the feast after running into several people who all had seen her eyes, it had been dark when they rode back to the nearby tavern where they were staying. She had quickly excused herself with being tired before they could have a proper talk. Daenerys barely slept the entire night, her mind ran wild with thoughts and her cheek still throbbed terribly from the strike the King of the Vale had delivered as retaliation for her own slap. She saw daylight stream in through the windows and immediately proceeded to get dressed, she did not bother waiting for the servants to aid her. She slipped on a blue dress fit for horseback since they would be travelling all day. She hastily washed her face before going down to the bar and order some bread and fruit to be delivered to Quentyn’s room for breakfast. There was much to discuss before embarking on their journey, there was the invitation to him from the Rose Queen, the run-in with the Lord Commander about business at the wall - and her confrontation with Harrold Hardyng. Daenerys feared Quentyn would be angry about her sneaking away, but she had only intended to catch her breath in peace, how was she to know he would find her and then recognise her?

When leaving the newly named Fury’s Keep, Daenerys felt a strange mixture of relief and sadness. There was much to discuss with those who always gave her council. Her cheek was bruised after her confrontation with the King of the Vale. She was going back to safety but that also meant going back to where she could do nothing but wait. The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to go to the Wall. It was an opportunity to travel through Westeros  and meet those she thought might stand by her side against Hardyng. It was risky but it was better than sitting around and doing nothing. When they reached a tavern to stay overnight, she immediately found herself in need of some wine. The days on the road were long and tough, she remembered her days with the Dothraki but that was long ago and her body was not as used to sitting on horseback all day as it had been once.

She had left Quentyn to handle their packed things with the help of servants. When she was finally given wine by the owner of the tavern, she downed it much too quickly. She put the order for some more as she sat down at a table. Daenerys kept her eyes down and avoided looking anyone in the eyes. Her hair was still dyed brown although it was a lighter shade than it had been at the feast. She hoped the dye would stay in long enough until the reached the safety of Dorne. As she sat alone at the table, lost in her own thoughts, she could sense someone sitting down at the chair in front of her. She looked up expecting to see the dark eyes of the Dornish prince, but her heart stopped for what felt like a long moment when she saw a couple of violet eyes similar to her own. She had heard tales of her brother’s son being alive, but she had heard many untrue stories in during the course of her life. It was rare for Daenerys to be rendered speechless but she had no words to say that would express her feelings. It had been so long since she had family around her. She was used to being the last of the Targaryens, she was used to being the one with no family. In front of her was someone whose blood was half of hers, whose eyes matched her own. A man with the Targaryen name. She felt her heart drop a little when that thought entered her mind.

“Aegon?”