The Burnt Prince- GOT SI Ch.41

Chapter 41

JON ARRYN

The Night’s Watch had been nothing but a decrepit order, the ancient order had been reduced to a few thousand men most of whom were scum of the Earth, and the rest were traitors banished by the Crown, much like him.

After the rebellion, the King had allowed him the mercy of the watch, making him take the Black for his sin of rising up against the Targaryen regime, and though it was a mercy he would have wished to see granted to Robert, it was still benevolent of the King who had routed them and their claim.

And yet as soon as he had taken the King’s mercy, he was offered some comfort as the King graced him with warmer cloaks, and ample food as he left for the Wall with the rest of the rebelling lords who had been afforded the same mercy.

Over the years, King Daemon had been an avid supporter of the decrepit order, regularly sending both gold and supplies to keep the men fed and to repair the twenty castles along the Wall, and as many saw it all as nothing but a gesture, he knew that there was a hidden purpose behind this generosity.

Initially, he suspected it to be an aid to help the watch against the constant Free Folk incursions, and yet he would only learn of the truth the day he ascended to the tank of Lord Commander, his nomination for the rank coming from the capitol itself.

And only then would he learn of the true reason behind the King’s generosity.

Death. The Great Evil considered by many nothing but a children’s tale, was real and had woken up again to conquer the world of men and bask it in an everlasting cold. He had not believed the words until, he had met some of the Free Folk, with whom the watch had begin secretly collaborating, handing them some of their leftover supplies and most importantly, dragon glass.

And while he could see this damning evil for himself now, somehow the King had envisioned it all those years ago from the capital, without ever taking a step into the True North.

And now those years and years of preparation were out to the test as he rode forth with a thousand men, each armed with dragon glass swords and spears, as they rode past the hoard of Fremen rushing towards the Wall to reach the Free Folk forming a line.

“Where is Mance Rayder?” he asked, as he pulled on the reins of his horse.

“Ay, I am here,” and out stepped the very man who had just been his guest in the castle Black, the one who had led the Free Folk to this salvation.

“Take the horse,” he said as a Black Brother pushed forward a horse.

“And ride to the Wall, you shall be needed there,” he said, and the man shook his head.

“I will not cower behind Walls whilst crows fight to protect my people,” and that was an honourable sentiment.

“They call you King beyond the Wall, and it is a King’s duty to protect his people from all evils. The chaos that is about to ensue is one of those evil, here among us you are but one man. But there with your people you will be worth a thousand. Go and be the man you were meant to be,” and he saw the man’s eyes narrow at his words as he pushed forward his horse, as the storm rushed towards them.

“Moreover, today we do not fight as Crows or Free Folk. We must put those times behind us. Today we fight as the living, we fight to protect our families behind us,” and with that he rode through the Free Folk as he reached the head of the column.

“Today we fight as bothers,” he asked, and the Free Folk looked at each other before they raised their weapons in the air.

“I will not abandon my people. Not like this. The people behind me, they may not have a King but they have someone better than me to lead them, a Princess,” and with that the Free Folk cheered as the man joined him at the head of the line, as both of them looked ahead at the incoming storms.

“Form a line,” he shouted, and the men got into position.

“I never thought I would die fighting alongside a damn Crow,” Mance Rayder added with a chuckle as Jon nodded.

“Ayy, neither did I,” and with that the army of the dead grew closer and closer, as they all gathered and held their breaths.

“Hold!” he screamed at his men.

“Hold!” and as they rushed towards them, now but a few yards away from them he shouted.

“FORWARD!” and with that, the men thrust forth their spears as the second battle of Dawn began once more.

0000

DAEMON TARGARYEN

“You had a dragon,” his brother asked as Daemon sat in his solar, and he nodded.

Viserys had grown much in the ten years since he had taken over the capital, and now only a trace of the petulant and idiotic child remained. A younger Viserys had been disillusioned by their father and looked up to him as some sort of a hero, considering Daemon to be a usurper.

In his arrogance, he even demanded that he hand over the throne to him, much to his surprise. Once his arrogant demand had not been met, he reverted to his more violent tendencies.

Daemon had been quick to sort it out, for he had no desire for another Blackfyre and had the boy put through his paces as a squire. Thankfully, their father’s absence and their mother’s efforts were able to sort him out, yet even now, those eyes were often filled with jealousy as he looked at him.

“I do,” Daemon answered coolly as he saw Viserys’s lips thin.

“You did not tell anyone. Did not tell me about it,” he asked petulantly, and Daemon raised a brow.

“I told no one,” He answered as Viserys’s lips thinned. The boy looked him in the eye.

“You told mother. You told your wife,” he thundered, and Daemon’s patience was running then. He had too much to do rather than cater to his brother's useless demands.

“I told them, so what? You know now, so does the rest of the realm, so what?” he saw Viserys grind his teeth before his younger brother sighed and leaned back in his chair.

“You don’t trust me! You never have!” he screamed, and Daemon knew that to be true.

Of his two brothers and one sister, Viserys took after their father in both looks and demeanour, and that did not sit well with him. It was wrong of him; he had been told as much by Ashara, yet it was how he was.

“I have not,” Viserys was old enough to know when he was lying to him, so he did not. And with those words he saw Viserys’s eyes widen, as he saw his chest tighten, a sense of betrayal seeped into his eyes as he looked down.

“It is because of this, right?” he asked with a scoff as he pointed towards his face.

“Because of how I look. Because of how I resemble our father,” and Daemon was not surprised that Viserys had made the connection.

“I trust no one, not easily. Even most of my councillors know very little of my plans,” Daemon reasoned as he leaned forward.

“I have always feared our father’s influence on you, but believe it or not, I am proud of you, especially with how you dealt with the rebellion in the Riverlands,” Daemon added softly and saw Viserys perk up at the praise.

“That is why I have agreed to your request and have commissioned for you a ship that will take you to Essos, to Meereen, where you may join up in the war against the slaves as the Direct agent,” and with that, he took out a letter and placed it on the table.

Viserys seemed surprised by the gesture and took the letter and began to read it.

“Is this real?” he asked, and Daemon nodded.

“This is what you desired. I am putting my trust in you, Viserys, the very trust that you just demanded. Do not let it be a mistake,” Daemon added softly and saw Viserys nod at that.

“Go and make preparations, and do tell the Mother of your departure. She will be saddened to see you go, much like Daenerys,” he added, for despite his issues with Daemon, Viserys was much closer to Daenerys and their mother, and it was only through them that his brother had been able to rediscover himself.

“Thank you for this,” Viserys said as he left the room, and as he did so, his leal friend and guard spoke up from behind.

“Is it wise to let him go?” Arthur asked, and as Daemon watched the door close behind his brother he shrugged.

“I will have men watching over him in Essos, men to protect both him,” he added, as his voice became but a whisper as he added.

“...and myself and my family if it truly becomes necessary,” and he saw Arthur still at those words, the implication behind them not lost to the Captain of his Kingsguard.

“That is callous of you,” Arthur taunted, and it truly was. But Daemon could no longer put his faith in coincidences, not after what he had suffered, not after what he was about to face.

He had to make sure that he did not leave behind the sort of problems Aegon the Fourth did after he legitimized his bastards and left them with the greatest tragedy of their times, the Blackfyres.

“What is the situation in the Stepstones?” he asked as Arthur began.

“It is better now; the Riverland is under our control, and most of the lords are happy to see the Mootons becoming the Lord Paramounts. But still, is it wise to have the army abandon the lands and move towards the North?” Arthur’s concerns were valid, but the news from the North was damning, and his suspicions had just been confirmed by the letter from Eddard Stark.

The Free Folk were rushing towards the Wall, and it must be out of desperation. And there was only one thing that could make them so desperate.

The White Walkers, and just to prepare for the worst, he had his army move towards the North, and by now, they must all be already at Winterfell if his own estimations were correct.

“It is a risk, but one I am willing to take. " This had taken off much of the heat from the offensive he had planned against the Greyjoys as well. Though their fleet had been burnt, they had abandoned the campaign, with those naval ships now supplying men, horses, and equipment to the rapidly advancing army.

“How is the movement of the supplies towards the Gift,” he asked, and Arthur looked at the map.

“They must have landed on the shores by now. Benjen will soon begin moving them towards the Umber lands,” and he nodded.

“Write to him to do that soon,” because this was what allowed him to move armies so rapidly. Most armies had their pace slowed down because of the supplies they needed to carry for the war, but in this case, the supplies were ahead of the men, supplies of tents, food, and weapons, and so with their lightened load, the army was quick to move and could respond rapidly to any danger.

“I will see what I can....” and before Arthur could say any more, the door to his solar swung open as an acolyte rushed in.

“Your grace! Your grace!” the man huffed as Arthur reached for his blade, aghast at the audacity and disrespect, and yet Daemon felt dread grip his heart as he raised his hand and stopped Arthur.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Pardon me your grace, but a missive arrived from the Wall...” and immediately a cold shiver ran down his spine, and just looking at the face of the acolyte was enough to tell him what had happened.

“The Dead are here,” he whispered and saw the acolyte nod as he jumped from his chair and took the missive.

“Have a letter sent to all Northern lords and or army commanders stationed there. Tell them to march towards the Wall with dragon glass weapons at once....”

“I will fly out on the Cannibal...” and with that, he turned towards his best friend.

“You know what to do, right, Arthur?” he asked, and his best friend nodded.

“I will not fail you. Go and fight; I will handle things in the capital,” and with that, Daemon walked out of the solar with a heavy heart as he called for his squire to put on his armor for the greatest battle of his life.

0000