The sun had long since reached its highest peak when Jon saw the towers of the Dreadfort appear in the distance. It had not been a straightforward journey. First his bout of illness had prevented him from leaving that very same day that the call for help had arrived. His stomach had not been able to hold solid food until late that evening. His worry for Robb probably had not helped matters. And even he had been forced to concede that it would have been irresponsible to leave in the middle of the night still feeling as weak as he did.
Sam had once more proven to be very loyal and extremely useful. His dear friend had done everything he could to distract Jon's mind so his stomach could start to settle. He had read him an interesting, riveting part of a diary of one of Jon's ancestors he had found on Dragonstone. At some point, probably phase two of Sam's premeditated plan, the tale had become longwinded and Sam had tempered his voice and had started to read slower until Jon had been lulled to sleep and had slept for at least half a day. Without a doubt, if not for Sam, his voyage would have been delayed even further. The bedrest had settled his stomach enough to be able to depart not long after dawn.
Rhaegal who could sense his condition would have refused to take off earlier anyway. Even when Jon had felt somewhat better that morning, Rhaegal had been reluctant to start the long trip north.
Jon was glad he had had the presence of mind to ask Ser Gerold and Sam to inform Uncle Ned of his plans. Uncle Benjen would certainly have sent a raven to King's Landing as well. Right before he departed, they had indeed gotten the call for help in the form of a short scroll from Eddard Stark. They hadn't needed to reply however. The raven they had sent earlier was already more than halfway to King's Landing.
The first leg of the journey the dragons had not flown at full speed and had avoided unnecessary movements. The fact that they had hit some strong headwinds hadn't helped matters. They had stopped early on their first day and Jon, drained of the little strength he had started off with, had slept later than planned. Of course neither Rhaegal nor Viserion had seen fit to wake him at first light. That meant the journey had taken him almost three days.
They landed in the woods near the haphazard encampment not to scare the men too much that had shown up to help free the heir of Winterfell. Jon quickly partook of some light food and drink before jogging the short distance to meet up with the rescuing party that had gathered at a safe distance from the walls of the Dreadfort.
He halted when he spotted that his uncle was coming towards him to meet him halfway. Jon was still somewhat out of breath when his uncle reached him. Even though it had been three days since his bout of illness, he hadn't regained all his strength yet. Benjen Stark took the final steps to close the gap between them and threw his arms around Jon. Jon felt his uncle shake.
"I failed him, Jon. I was right there and I let him go out, not bothering to check where he went or with whom. He should never have been able to go to the brothel without an escort and certainly not with Theon Greyjoy. I failed him."
Jon felt his uncle's desperation keenly and tried to lessen his burden by sharing the blame. "We all did. Uncle Ned did as well. We should have had Ramsay Snow apprehended and not have allowed Theon as many privileges. Any other body parts?"
Jon was very relieved to see his uncle shake his head. Hopefully it stayed that way. Losing the tip of his little finger was a loss that would not cripple his cousin. It had been severed at the first joint below the nail. They didn't know yet whether it was his left or right hand that had been mutilated.
Jon paid no attention to his surroundings nor to the strange looks he got and let his uncle steer him to a large tent that had been erected in all haste by the looks of it.
"Inside you will find the representatives of the principal bannermen of House Stark who live close enough to reach us this quickly. We were holding a war council when the guards informed me that there were two dragons approaching." Benjen Stark who had regained his composure gave his nephew a significant look.
"I know, Uncle. We'll deal with the fallout. Let us just rescue Robb from these vile Boltons." Jon had barely taken his first steps inside the tent when he was pushed on the ground with force.
"Ouch! Greywind, down boy! He ran his hand through the animal's smokey grey pelt. "It is all right, I am here. We'll save Robb together."
The direwolf calmed and obeyed immediately so Jon could get up. He dusted off his coat and hugged the wolf. He put his forehead on the animal's large head and tried to reach his mind. He immediately sensed Ghost's presence. 'Of course! Greywind would have made an attempt to contact Ghost.' He tried to calm both wolves and reassured them Robb would be safe before Ghost could even get there. He felt Ghost running straight for the Dreadfort. His loyal friend would arrive in less than two days.
As soon as Jon broke his connection with both of them he became more aware of the rumours and stares. He noticed the men around him look between him, Greywind and Uncle Benjen with consternation.
"Better introduce me formally, Uncle. I will need to use my dragons, right? Better not lie to these proud men but appeal to their honour and tell them it will be Eddard Stark that will face the Baratheon King's wrath if they let word of who I really am get out too soon." Jon spoke at a normal volume on purpose.
A tense silence followed his words. Everyone close enough to hear them stood rooted to the spot. It was the Greatjon that broke the stalemate and stepped forward. "Benjen Stark, we demand an explanation! Is this young man a Stark or a Snow?"
"Is this the dragonrider that saved the Stony Shore?" Lord Karstark also found the courage to speak up now that the spell had been broken.
"He is a dragonrider. I saw two dragons fly over! Will he burn us after he burns the Boltons and take the North away from us?" Someone else called out from the back of the tent.
"Silence!" Benjen Stark's command could be heard by everyone inside as well as outside the tent. He had stepped in front of Jon. "Give me a chance to explain. Nobody will be burned or threatened. This young man has come here with the sole purpose of saving his cousin." Benjen Stark's eyes stared daggers at his audience warning everyone away from Jon.
"Uncle," Jon touched his uncle's arm and gave him a reassuring look.
"Right," his uncle swallowed a few times to regain his composure and turned so he stood side by side with his nephew and they both faced the Lords of the North together. "Lords of the North, loyal bannermen and everyone before me that is a true friend to House Stark and heeded our call for help, may I introduce my kin to you?"
A few shocked expressions could be heard. Jon heard the name 'Brandon Stark' being mentioned. Benjen didn't wait for new outbursts. He put his hand on Jon's shoulder and continued his voice loud and firm so everyone could hear. "You can all see how much the young man standing next to me resembles my brother Ned. However, those of you who were fortunate enough to know my sister Lyanna will believe me when I tell you that she was the one who gave birth to him."
"I owe my life to this young man who was raised in secret under the supervision of House Stark. You see before you a true son of the North who worships the old Gods and shares our beliefs and our way of life. But he is more than that. He is also a Prince by birth. Even if a fierce northern woman, a noble daughter of House Stark birthed him, he carries the name of the House of his father, of the Prince my sister married in secret."
He turned his head in all directions to give each and every one a firm meaningful look before continuing. "My Lords, I strongly urge you to welcome him to the North as a kinsman and loyal ally of House Stark. Before you stands Prince Aegon Targaryen, my nephew and rightful heir to the Iron Throne, trueborn son of Prince Rhaegar of House Targaryen and Princess Lyanna formerly of House Stark."
A tense silence ensued. Jon gave Uncle Benjen a small sign and climbed a small sturdy looking crate so he towered over his audience. He mostly saw bewildered faces, only a few still looked at him with scepticism if not outright hostility.
"Most hounourable Lords, please hear me out. I have known Robb Stark ever since he was a skinny boy barely counting eleven namedays. He is my cousin and I love him dearly. The only reason I have come here today is to rescue him. I apologize if you feel that we kept my identity a secret from you for so long. It was done to keep all of us safe, me as well as all of you who are loyal to Lord Stark. If the Baratheon King had gotten wind of my existence and how House Stark had sheltered and protected me all these years, it would not only have been Lord Stark's life that would have been forfeit. His wife, his children and most likely several of his loyal bannermen would have been executed just so the King could set an example. I am sure the North remembers how my half-sister, her baby brother and her mother were brutally murdered."
He took a deep breath and spoke louder now conveying his unwavering conviction and willingness to see things through. "I have come here today with one and one goal only. Today nothing else matters. Today is about saving Robb of House Stark, son of your Liege Lord Eddard of House Stark and heir to the North. I will not leave before Robb Stark is out of the clutches of his kidnappers."
Jon scanned the small crowd and noticed the Greatjon nod his head in silent approval but still a few faces looked at him with some distrust. He changed his tone slightly so it would not seem that he was taking the lead and would order these men around. He took another deep breath. "My Lords, today, here and now, Let us forget about politics and focus on the noble reason why we have all gathered here. Every single one of us has the same purpose. We all want to free Robb of House Stark from the Dreadfort and return the heir alive and well to Winterfell. Knowing the reputation of House Bolton and more specifically of Ramsay Snow, time is of the essence if we want to save my dear cousin before he has been mutilated more seriously than he already has been."
Seeing consenting nods all around his courage rose. "I have brought two large dragons to help. We need a plan that will avoid making unnecessary casualties amongst the innocent smallfolk and servants that live at the Dreadfort and I will not put any of you in harm's way. Who will assist Uncle Benjen and me to devise such a plan to free Robb Stark?"
The silence that ensued was broken by a bit of commotion at the entrance of the tent. All heads turned that way.
'I will!"
The first one to break the silence and offer support was … a Bolton.
"I will!" The young man that now strode over to Jon repeated. "Domeric of House Bolton, at your service, my Prince. I take no part in the schemes of my father nor those of my half-brother's. I may not have been at the Dreadfort these past few moons but I have knowledge of all entrances and I know the location where Ramsay Snow usually keeps his victims. I can help you if you will allow me to."
"Thank you," Jon nodded at the heir to the Dreadfort. "Will anyone else help us come up with a sound plan?"
The Greatjon Umber was the first to give a resounding "Aye, count me in. Let us work together today."
Lord Halys of House Hornwood was next and soon every Lord present offered his assistance.
"For Robb Stark!" someone shouted.
"Free Robb Stark!" A few others chimed in.
Jon wondered if Ramsay Snow would still be as bold trapped inside his dreary Dreadfort if he could hear these shouts. He waited for them to vent their feelings knowing that way the tension would lessen and a newfound hope and optimism would help them all to work better together.
"My Lords," he tried to address them once more still standing on the crate. When he had their attention, he used it to warn them once more of the precarious situation they were in now.
"Before we start, I must entreat you to adhere to your Liege Lord's wishes and keep my real identity a secret for a little while longer. Bear in mind that the honourable Warden of the North is at the moment fulfilling the position of Hand of the King in the capital. Word of my identity cannot reach King's Landing yet. It will not do to save Robb Stark here today only to have your Liege Lord be put on trial for treason. He allowed me to come here because he trusts you all to spare no effort to keep House Stark and their kin safe."
He stepped down from the crate and together with his uncle joined the circle the Lords of the North had formed around the crate. They would all put together a plan as equals. Jon discreetly nodded at Domeric Bolton to open the discussion.
The young Lord immediately stepped forward. "Now my Lords, have you ever noticed that the east tower is built slightly different when compared to the other ones …"
***
With Domeric Bolton's knowledge and the advantage of attacking from the sky as well, they soon had a solid plan in place and just had to wait until dark. After some debate the attack was set to happen in the second part of the night.
Jon had needed to reassure the proud Northmen several times that his dragons posed no threat to them and that he could guarantee that no one in the rescuing party would be in danger of being burned to ashes at any point of the plan.
Jon, certain he would be safe walking amongst the northerners now, even more so with Greywind glued to his side, exited the tent in order to share his plans with his dragons. His uncle would accompany him until he reached the woods. He had only taken two steps outside the tent when someone bumped into him on purpose.
"Jon, I am so relieved you showed up!" Edric exclaimed but made no move to embrace Jon.
"Of course I came as soon as I could! Remember our pact?" Jon managed a small smile and gave him a brief hug before addressing Edric's two companions.
"My Lady," he greeted Brienne of Tarth. "My Lord!" he bowed before Loras who stood there gaping. "Close your mouth, Lord Tyrell. You are much more handsome when you don't show your tonsils." He teased.
"So you are the Jon I met in the Riverlands, the one and the same that Lady Arya mentioned all the time before she suddenly stopped, but you are not Lord Celtigar, not really?" Lady Brienne's question sounded more like an accusation.
"I am the same person. I just go by another name. I am sorry I had to deceive you, my Lady. It was for my safety as well as for yours and everyone connected to me. My cousin Arya is not aware of my real identity either." He had ignored her slightly condemning attitude, keeping his tone cordial.
"My Prince," Lady Brienne of Tarth bowed to him now. "If you have come here to save Robb Stark, you have my sword." She kneeled in front of him and laid her sword at his feet.
"Rise, Lady Brienne. I gladly accept your sword for today. If you implied more than that, we will talk about that later. I refuse to dwell on any other matter until after we have successfully rescued my cousin."
Several Lords of the North had witnessed the scene and Lady Brienne's deference with growing unease. Lord Umber who had exited the tent on Benjen Stark's heels, stepped forward.
"My Prince," he bowed before Jon. "I am sorry we did not give you the respect you are due."
"That is not important right now, Lord Umber. As I told you before, this is not the time for politics. We rescue my cousin first. For now I am just one more man amongst all of you, anxious to see Robb Stark safely back at Winterfell." He smiled at Lord Umber and walked away with big strides, Greywind and his uncle hurrying after him.
"Jon, slow down for a bit. We still have some time before dark."
"I am sorry, Uncle. I just wanted to make it clear that I didn't want anyone following me except you of course, and Greywind." He smiled at his uncle and petted the direwolf. "He is a dear, isn't he?"
"He is now. He has been giving us some trouble these last few days. I have never been nudged and bumped into as much before. I do not think Greywind rested much since Robb went missing. I am glad you are here. Perhaps you can convince him to sleep a bit before our attack." Benjen Stark looked at Greywind who was walking calmly, firmly glued to Jon's side.
"Well he is worried about his master and trusts me to help save him. You will need to keep him with you for a short while though. I better not have him with me when I confer with Rhaegal and Viserion." Jon warned.
"Well then you will need to be the one to make him understand that. I had enough trouble to make him behave on the road here and before you arrived."
He studied his nephew now that they had slowed their steps. "You were later than expected and you look like shit, if you don't mind my saying."
"That is probably because I feel like shit so I don't mind at all. I have been sick, Uncle." Jon admitted. "I had to wait until my stomach could hold solid food before I travelled across Westeros on my own."
"I didn't realise. Now I wonder you are here at all. However did you get permission from Ser Gerold to come here still looking like you do?" Benjen frowned, looking his nephew over in more detail.
"Well he was somewhat understanding this time. I only had to keep solid food in my stomach for half a day and solve a riddle Sam put before me to prove that I was sound of mind and would know what I was doing up in the air." Jon smiled wanly remembering how bad he had still felt when he climbed on top of Rhaegal.
"Something you ate?" Benjen still frowned looking at his nephew with a worried expression.
"Something like that." Jon relied with unusual sarcasm. "I didn't develop a fever though, just a splitting headache and an upset stomach."
"And you are all right now?" Benjen pressed wondering what Jon was not telling him.
"Getting there. I will be fine, Uncle. Do not worry on my account. We have to focus on Robb now and see that everyone sticks to the plan. I would never forgive myself if Ramsay got to Robb during our rescue attempt."
"Well, you have taken that part of the plan totally upon yourself, Jon. But I have the utmost confidence you three can pull it off. I have heard Robb describe the might of your dragons ad nauseam."
"Do not tell Rhaegal and Viserion that. They are getting cocky enough without extra praise."
"As if I would know how to communicate with them." Benjen offered a weak smile before asking. "How are things on Dragonstone, Jon?"
"Let's talk about that some other time, Uncle. We have almost reached the place where the dragons are resting and I am tired. Besides I want to focus all my energy on Robb first. I promise to tell you everything once we have him back with us in one piece. I will be coming with you to Winterfell for a few days."
"Fair enough. I will wait here with Greywind if you promise me he will behave."
Rhaegal and Viserion were delighted to help Jon rescue his kin from evil men. They took pride in being allowed to use their superior abilities and insight to help their human resolve petty struggles on the ground that would go on for days even sennights if not for their mighty interference.
***
When Jon returned from his visit with his dragons he was besieged by all sides and needed to tell the story of his life several times over. He noticed uncle Benjen had the same trouble be it a different audience. Whereas he dealt with the younger Lords and less important bannermen, his Uncle entertained Lord Umber, Lord Karstark and Hornwood.
In the middle of answering the umpteenth question about his upbringing, he heard a hearty burst of laughter and saw it was the Tyrell boy that reacted to something Edric had said to him. Earlier, Jon had immediately noticed Edric's awkward demeanour towards him after the first greetings had been dispensed with. He felt guilty for not doing more for his friend for now but couldn't in good faith see another way around that delicate business.
Jon couldn't help but feel a bit jealous when he noticed the easy camaraderie between the Tyrell boy and Edric. If you included Robb, the three of them probably had spent a nice time at Winterfell while he juggled a war with ice creatures and a throne restoration. Looking for some comfort, he petted Greywind who faithfully lay next to him and resumed his lengthy answer to a predominantly benevolent audience.
Eventually they all retired to the large tent for supper. Jon used that occasion to draw Edric away from the young Tyrell and together with Greywind, they walked to an isolated spot where a fallen tree provided a suitable bench.
Edric had not said a single word on the way over and even now waited for Jon to open the conversation. Jon cleared his throat and addressed his friend who was seated a bit further away than he would like with some trepidation. "You got my scroll?"
"I did when it finally arrived. Took me some trouble to decrypt the short message." Edric replied a bit stiffly.
"It was a precaution to prevent Lady Catelyn from getting wind of the content." Jon sighed running his hands through Greywind's pelt to seek some sympathy.
"You get it though? I mean, you understand why I can't just order Lord Stark to give his consent?"
Edric's shoulders drooped in defeat. "I do, well perhaps I do kind of," he amended. "It is difficult to grasp, Jon. I had my hopes up after Robb told me of your conversation about possible betrothals for him. Is there really nothing you can do?"
Jon watched his friend's forlorn expression. "Nothing straightforward," he replied honestly. "I can only try to stall any other betrothal Lord Stark might want to broker for Sansa."
Edric looked up and met Jon's eyes for the first time since Jon's arrival. "That doesn't help me much."
He sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Gods, I feel guilty talking about this when Robb…"
"I know," Jon sighed. "But the plan to rescue him is ready and we cannot do anything else for him right now than wait for the agreed upon time for the attack. We are not hurting Robb with this conversation. If anything, it is better for him that his friends are not at odds with each other when he sees them again, which will hopefully be before dawn."
"I will pray for that." Edric put his hand on Jon's knee. "We are not at odds, Jon. Not really. I am just disappointed. What you are proposing will not help my case."
Jon lifted one leg and put it on the other side of the tree trunk so he sat astride it now and faced his friend. "It will, Edric. As long as Sansa is not promised to anyone else, I or better we have time to work on Lord Stark and make him change his mind. I am sure, once the political reasons to betroth my cousins become null and void, my uncle will consider Sansa's happiness. The older she gets, the more chance she has to convince him that it is not just a young girl's infatuation. You must admit she is still awfully young and you have known each other for a short while only."
Edric adjusted his position to mirror Jon's, his hands back in his own lap. "You haven't seen her, Jon. You haven't seen us together." Edric argued his case.
"I haven't." Jon admitted readily. "Edric, look at it his way. Lord Stark is in a difficult position right now and is probably counting the days until he can return home. He will do everything he can to speed up the conclusion of years of scheming. Once he is free of this burden, we have a much bigger chance to convince him that his daughter will only be happy as your wife. So stalling a betrothal is the best tactic. In the meantime we will raise you in his esteem."
When he saw Edric's sceptical look and raised eyebrows, Jon slightly altered what he had been meaning to say. "Your biggest trump card is that you care for his daughter and are a kind and honourable man from an esteemed and noble house. The only thing you have going against you is that your house does not have the position of a Lord Paramount."
"I do not see how 'raising me in his esteem' could work since you can't make me a Lord Paramount or a Prince like you intend to make Robb."
"Edric, I am certain deep down Lord Stark does not care for that. It is his wife that has these ambitions. I will find a subtle way to remind him of that. I am sure he is only considering it to speed up things the diplomatic way. Just be patient. All is not lost. And please, do not think for one second that I do not have your back. Only, I can't order my uncle around just because you are my friend. I owe him everything, my very existence. Please consider that. I already explained all that in my message."
Edric looked at his hands and his cheeks had reddened. "You know, Robb told me the same thing a few times. He is a better friend to you than I am. I am sorry to take this so badly, Jon. But I feel so unhappy. It all seems so hopeless.
"It is not, not yet anyway. Your friend Loras might be a helpful ally, actually. We still need to get the Reach on board. If we can convince him that an alliance between Robb and Lady Margaery would make more sense than one between Lord Willas and Sansa, we are halfway there."
Edric's eyes lit up. "Loras would certainly be willing to help. Jon, he is most impressed by all I have been able to reveal to him about you today. Finally, I might add. I had been bursting to tell him for sennights now. He has become a dear friend of mine and I would like to include him in our pact."
"Well that is for the five of us to decide. We all need to get to know him better first. I can't wait for all of us to be together again. I hope I get to see Gendry soon. Has he written to you?"
"Yes, amazing isn't it. If you imagine a few moons ago he couldn't even read properly. But is seems he is well enough and is getting a lot of help from other blacksmiths at Eastwatch."
"Sam is doing more than his share as well." Jon responded. "I sincerely hope that one day he will become my Maester and soon after that Grand Maester. When we have more time, I must tell you all about his genius ideas and the support he has given me so far without a proper training at the Citadel. I have been blessed with the four of you. I have the best of friends."
"Hearing you speak like that, I can't help but think I am the weakest link of our brotherhood." Edric looked at his feet.
"You are not Edric. You just haven't found your vocation yet. Perhaps you are destined to become my most formidable general. You might even turn out to be a very skilled diplomat. One that can bring Dorne into the fold, if not by turning Prince Doran Martell around, then by rallying the majority of the important bannermen of that Kingdom to our cause. It might even be something entirely different. I know you are loyal, intelligent and a very dear friend. We will find something that suits your abilities and we will impress the hells out of Lord Stark."
Edric lifted his head and looked at Jon for a long time, his dark blue eyes taking in every detail of his friend.
"You will be a great King one day, Jon. If I am sure of one thing today, it is that. I feel lighter than I have felt for more than a moon now. I am ashamed of my behaviour earlier."
Jon put his hand on Edric's shoulder, relieved that they were back on better terms. "You are confused and unhappy. I understand, Edric. I hope you will never doubt our friendship, our pact ever again though."
Edric put his hand on top of Jon's that was still resting on his shoulder. "I won't, Jon. However things turn out with Sansa, I know you will be there to help me face it."
"Of course I will be. So will the others. Too bad Sam and Gendry can't be here right now. Sam was frustrated enough that I had to leave him behind. He helped me substantially. Without him I might still be puking my guts out on Dragonstone. I still can't believe Ser Gerold let me leave while I was still feeling a bit unwell."
"You were sick, Jon?" Edric looked his friend over. "At first glance, you look healthy and stronger than ever. But now that you mention it, your face looks pale and drawn and you have dark circles beneath your eyes. Perhaps we should get you something to eat now. And afterwards you can catch half a night's rest before it is time to start our rescue attempt."
"I admit I am rather tired." Jon stood and waited for Edric to do the same. Greywind ran ahead of them, acting as if they needed him to show them the shortest way to the tent.
Jon and Edric walked side by side in silence. Just before they were about to enter the tent, Jon put his hand on Edric's arm. "Let's not talk about all of this to Loras for now. Better wait till Robb is safely back with us."
Edric nodded his assent and both young men stepped into the tent, Greywind firmly glued to Jon's side.
***
He must have fallen asleep at some point because his uncle's voice woke him when it was still pitch black outside. "Jon, everything has been prepared, everyone is ready. You need to mount Rhaegal and start the attack."
Jon tried to get his bearings. 'Gods, he was tired still.' He was in the small tent he shared with his uncle. He vaguely remembered retiring to it last night shortly after supper when his uncle had saved his head from falling into his plate.
He needed to get up though. They had agreed to attack during the second part of the night and were hoping the Boltons would be less vigilant now. They did not need to adhere to a code of honour and wait for daylight when confronting such cruel, dishonest adversaries. Jon had convinced them it was the best way to avoid casualties amongst their own ranks. Furthermore he had argued that he had flown practically non-stop for almost three day straight and his dragons, as much as himself, needed a bit of rest first.
He accepted the cup of water his uncle handed him and made himself ready for battle. A bit worried about his levels of energy, he prayed that Rhaegal and Viserion would be able to pick up his slack if necessary.
***
Once he was high up in the air, Jon had trouble discerning the part of the stronghold he needed to find. Domeric Bolton had giving him a precise description of the balcony and the window. It was too damn dark. The cloud cover that helped conceal him until the last moment also blocked the pale moonlight and made it difficult to distinguish the towers properly. Spotting his precise target from this high up wasn't easy. He deliberated his next move. If he flew lower they would be spotted and he couldn't risk the guards getting to Robb before he was able to neutralise them.
"Robb will be alone at that time of night," Lord Domeric had assured them all. "My bastard half-brother will either be boasting of what he will do to your cousin Sansa whilst feasting with his men downstairs, or he will be asleep in his own room hopefully inebriated enough for us to overpower him easily."
Jon who had shivered with repulsion at the image of Sansa being at the mercy of Ramsay Snow, had been able to discern some fear underlying Domeric's words. He had forced himself to focus back on their plan.
"And your father? Where may we expect him to be?"
My father will be in his own bedroom in the west tower. He will not be able to reach Rob Stark in time." He had looked at Jon and had hesitated before offering his opinion.
"I can't help but think father did not agree to this plan. It is possible that Ramsay acted entirely on his own and has somehow convinced my father things have evolved too far by now. Perhaps father believes he cannot turn the situation around without losing face and that might be the only reason he is helping his bastard."
"Let's decide how to deal with Lord Bolton when we can assess the situation for ourselves." Lord Umber had declared with barely concealed anger.
"I will only agree to not killing him on the spot if it doesn't endanger our plan. I will give my men the order to take him prisoner so House Stark can pronounce his sentence but only if they can do so without risking their own lives. And I do want House Bolton to pay." Lord Karstark had been adamant.
Several 'ayes' had clearly shown that most of the men present were in agreement and Domeric Bolton had averted his eyes.
"Lord Domeric, how many guards before we get to Robb?" His uncle had interfered, wanting to stop the debate by reminding the arguing Lords that Domeric Bolton had volunteered his help and his intelligence was a key factor in devising an efficient plan to free Robb Stark.
Domeric Boltons had looked grateful that the topic he had introduced himself had been tabled. He had obliged Benjen Stark and had given an accurate description. "Two perhaps three guards will be stationed on the balcony that leads to the only entry of Robb's prison at the top room of the east tower of the Dreadfort. It cannot be accessed from the inside. The top room apparently was added to the castle by a later generation. A Bolton ancestor, so they told me when I was young, wanted to gaze at the stars at night and in order to do that he built an additional room high up and made sure it contained several tiny windows all around the structure. That way he could look at the sky in all directions and still be sheltered from the wind and snow."
With a long stick Domeric Bolton had drawn a square on the ground to represent the courtyard. "Here is our tent, these are the castle walls. We will enter the yard when we pass a second gate there. The tower will be to our right." He had pointed with his stick to the various locations he had drawn crudely.
"You can only gain access to Robb's makeshift prison by ascending a steep stairway from the inner courtyard and crossing the balcony. That is why it is Ramsay's favourite room. He can isolate and torture prisoners in there without anyone interfering. When Ramsay has a victim up there, his guards are not allowed step inside the room and are to keep watch on the balcony. With Robb being such a prominent hostage he will have men stationed at the feet of the staircase as well."
Jon had listened with growing horror. "The only one Robb gets to see is Ramsay Snow?"
"I am afraid that is the case. Ramsay's face will probably be the only face Robb Stark has seen these last few days. He will have been the only one to to talk to him, threaten him, feed him, and torture him. I am sorry, my Lord, uh Prince." Domeric Bolton offered his sympathy with Robb's plight.
"It's all right Lord … Domeric." A pale and grave looking Jon had avoided mention of the Bolton name.
The Greatjon had interfered. "So all we need to do is take advantage of the chaos two big dragons flying overhead can create rather easily I imagine?" He had looked to Jon for confirmation, and after getting a serious nod from the young Prince who had still sported a worried expression he had finished his sentence, "while we storm the gates of the Dreadfort."
"We need to prevent the guards from going in and harming or even killing Robb." Benjen Stark had cautioned them.
"I can do that if I know where exactly the balcony is situated. The first burst of fire from my dragon will neutralise these guards. Keeping everyone away from the staircase won't be difficult. I just need to see that the dragons don't burn it so Robb still has a way to get down." Jon had been quick to propose.
"The stairway is made out of stone." Domeric Bolton had remarked. The rampart not so much but we can still get to Robb even if that has been burnt to a crisp. We just have to be more careful not to lose our balance. The floor of the balcony is made of stone as well."
"Then we have a plan. What are we waiting for?" The Greatjon, always a man of action more than strategy had exclaimed.
"Let us wait for the cover of darkness first, if we have the element of surprise, we have more time to take out the guard on the balcony and that gives Robb a better chance to make it out of there alive. We should discuss how best to attack. We have enough men to attack several gates at once." Benjen Stark had reasoned.
"As soon as the guards on the balcony have been taken care of, I only need one dragon to safeguard Robb until he can be rescued. The other one can burn down the gates. That would mean you better keep your distance and wait for the fire to destroy the gates first. I do not want to harm any of you."
It had all looked so simple, a plan that could not go wrong. If only Jon could find that damn balcony and eliminate the three guards. His spyglass was no help at all. He felt his mood affect his dragons and pulled himself together, he couldn't help feeling tired. His dragons were impatient. Rhaegal was adamant. He and his brother would find their target easily once they were below the clouds and could eliminate two or three tiny guards in the blink of an eye. Jon hesitated no longer and trusted his dragons with Robb's life.
It had been the right decision. Greywind was the first one to storm through the gates and attack one of the few Bolton guards who had not been blown of their feet by the gates that had been catapulted inside the courtyard by the force of Rhaegal's fire blast. Viserion had been the one to take out the two guards on the balcony and had stayed there hovering near the tower. He had already neutralised a few archers who had tried to shoot miserable little arrows at him with unsteady hands.
Jon let his dragons do their thing and just watched the fighting going on below him. He did not feel well enough to join the fray and find Ramsay Snow himself. That way he could easily keep his promise to his uncle. The others would also honour Benjen Stark's wish. If Ramsay Snow was to fall in the battle, the deadly blow would be coming from Benjen's sword if at all possible.
The torches in the courtyard combined with the extra fires that now raged courtesy of Rhaegal and Viserion provided enough light to follow the proceedings below. When he noticed Bolton soldiers storming into the courtyard, he persuaded Rhaegal to hold back. The Lords of the North and their soldiers outnumbered the Bolton men five to one. When a few Bolton guards made for the staircase however he let Rhaegal vent his frustration. The men were turned into ashes on the spot. That sight prompted several Bolton guards to lower their weapons and surrender.
Ramsay Snow now came storming out of the main building of the castle shouting furiously. "Fight! Fight you bloody cowards! Nobody gets to Robb Stark. Not before I have skinned every last part of him."
Jon watched from above how his uncle stepped in front of the cruel bastard. "Indeed, nobody gets to Robb Stark for the moment. Most certainly not the likes of you. Fight me, you coward. Did you bring your sword at least?" Benjen Stark taunted him.
"I brought my knife to skin you. Just as I will skin what is left of your dear nephew." Ramsay bluffed. "Just as I will skin your dear niece when I have had my way with her. Father promised her hand to me and will disown his pathetic heir that fled the Dreadfort."
"Shut up and draw your sword." Benjen Stark grumbled.
"Keep your men back and we will settle this the old way." Snow replied and drew his sword.
"It will be my pleasure." Benjen Stark focussed his attention on his opponent and took his stance to engage him.
An arrow came at him from the right side below his outstretched arm and hit him in the abdomen before he could make his first move. Benjen Stark looked at it with uncomprehending eyes, dropped his sword and fell to his knees.
"You Starks, always so honourable. You say stand down and everyone listens. Well I trained my men better. Let me get your sword. I always fancied owning a Valyrian one."
Before Ramsay had the chance to finish his sentence and pick Benjen's sword up from the ground, a large shadow swept over the courtyard. The next thing the men standing close by saw, was Ramsay's head that rolled across the yard, bitten off and spit out by the green dragon. "See to Benjen Stark." Jon called out feeling helpless on Rhaegal's back. "Help him."
With not enough available free space to safely land in the inner courtyard, Jon steered Rhaegal outside the castle walls as soon as he saw the men loyal to House Stark had the situation well under control. After what seemed like ages, they let him enter through the burnt gate, Lady Brienne at his side. He had his sword drawn when he reached Greatjon Umber who stood with a few other Lords of the North trying to decide what to do next.
"Robb?" Jon asked immediately when he was near enough to be heard by them.
"Is safe but too weak to descend the stairs of his own accord. They are helping him make himself presentable first. He will be down soon." The Greatjon informed him.
"Uncle Benjen?"
"The arrow hit him rather lower than I first thought. Those Boltons have no honour whatsoever. Don't worry, he is still breathing fairly normal so the arrow likely missed his vital parts. I am no healer but I guess he will be all right. The Maester of the Dreadfort is taking care of him under the supervision of several armed men. We are not sure that we can trust him yet."
"Let us hope the arrow wasn't poisoned." Jon remarked and looked up at the Greatjon. "What can I do to help?"
Lord Umber did not hesitate with his reply. "Get that wolf to Robb Stark and keep him in check. That beast is terrorising everyone, looking scarier than ever with all that Bolton blood on his mouth and furs. His constant pacing in the courtyard is hindering us."
"What about Lord Bolton, I mean Roose Bolton, of course?" Jon had kept an eye out for him but hadn't recognised anyone answering to the description he had been given.
"We are still looking for him. The servants haven't seen him lately. We fear the bastard might have murdered his own father. We can't ask him though." Lord Umber looked in the direction where Ramsay's headless body lay.
"I am sorry about that." Jon sure now that he would not need his sword sheathed Blackfyre while he listened to Lord Umber's reply.
"Don't be. That will be a tale I can tell my great-grandchildren. If your dragon hadn't interfered we would have done something similar to that cunt. He signed his dead sentence the moment he cheated. Don't worry we will keep looking for Roose Bolton."
"Found my father!" Domeric came storming into the courtyard looking sick. "At least what was left of him. Ramsay fed his dogs pieces of him. He died yesterday." He paused to take a few deep breaths. "His second wife is also in there but is too terrorised to utter a word. She is missing her right hand. Lord Dayne is with her. I had to leave the kennel because ...," Domeric turned his head to the side and vomited on some bushes that grew against the castle wall."
"I'll assist Lord Dayne, my Prince. You best go see to Robb." Lady Brienne gently guided Jon who looked shocked beyond words gently in the direction of the stairway. "Be careful, my Prince. These stairs are steep."
Jon turned in her direction and slowly came back to himself. He released the pommel of his sword he had been clinging to rather tightly and rubbed his face. "Thank you, Lady Brienne. I'll be all right now." Behind Jon's back Lady Brienne signalled Lord Umber to send someone up with Jon. The young Prince looked pale and the stairway was steep.
Jon stopped in his tracks. "Has anyone seen any sign of Theon Greyjoy?" When nobody could give him an affirmative answer he ordered, "Ask the servants whether he is supposed to be at the Dreadfort. If you find him alive, imprison him. I will want to talk to him. He may prove a valuable hostage when I deal with Pyke."
Lord Umber signalled one of his men. Spread the word that we are looking for Theon Greyjoy and want to capture him alive."
Then he turned to Jon. "After you, my Prince." Jon hesitated and looked at Greywind. "Stay." He commanded and looked firmly into the wolf's eyes. Greywind whined but Jon gave him a long stern look and the large wolf lay himself down at the feet of the stairs and would wait for his master to come down as ordered by the leader of the pack.
***
Robb had been cleaned up and was enveloped in a coat that bore the sigil of House Karstark when Jon entered the room. His cousin sat on a small cot and Jon saw a fleeting look of panic cross his face before Robb recognised him. Robb looked like a broken man. He sported a black eye. The other one looked red from lack of sleep. Jon also noticed a split lip and too many bruises to count. The stubble on his chin completed the haggard look. Under the coat, he caught a glimpse of his cousin's left arm that was heavily bandaged including his left hand.
Jon was at his side in an instant and embraced him carefully trying not to touch any of his injuries. He was glad he had ordered Greywind to stay in the courtyard. Robb wasn't in a fit state to deal with an overzealous pet right now. "It is all right now, Robb. We are here to take you home. Ramsay Snow is dead. Rhaegal saw to that. He cannot hurt you anymore."
"Are you sure? Are you very sure?" Robb slowly turned his head and dull eyes with undisguised fear in them briefly looked at Jon before his cousin dropped his head and stared at his lap.
"He told me how he fed his father to the dogs. Limb by limb he cut off. He boasted that he made the man watch as the hounds fed on his own flesh." Robb voice sounded terrible. He scraped his throat and winced.
"He said I was lucky that his stepmother was so fat. She would last long enough for him to have plenty of time to skin me before it was my turn to become dog food. He is a monster, Jon." Robb's voice sounded hoarse and was scarcely more than a whisper. Jon felt Robb shiver in his arms.
He heard the men who had been helping Robb dress whisper to Lord Umber. Probably more horrific details he didn't need to hear right now. He carefully tightened his arm that lay on Robb's shoulders.
"Was, Robb, he was a monster. He is dead now. We have come to take you home. I'll see you safe to Winterfell if it is the last thing I'll do. My dragons will protect us, Greywind and Ghost as well." He put as much confidence in his tone as he could muster.
"I didn't tell him, Jon." I didn't tell him about you." Robb shook his head frantically. "He wanted to know though. He wanted to know about the dragonrider." Blue Tully eyes looked faithfully into the grey Stark orbs of his cousin.
"You are very brave, Robb. But I knew that already. Let's talk about that later, though. Let's just concentrate on getting you out of here." He startled when Robb moved away from him but relaxed when he realised that is was to accept a cup of water from someone who had newly entered the room. His cousin drank its contents eagerly, looking disappointed when the cup was empty.
"So thirsty, I was so thirsty the entire time." Robb moaned still somewhat out of breath from drinking the content of the cup in one go without pausing to breathe.
"He said if I wanted to drink he would make water in the chamber pot for me. He is mad Jon. His eyes, his face, he is fucking mad. I almost drank it one day, Jon. Luckily the guards smuggled water in without Ramsay knowing from time to time. I would have drunk it if not for them." Robb lowered his head too ashamed to look anyone in the eye.
"You were brave enough to do whatever was necessary to stay alive, Robb. And you are still alive. Snow is not. He is dead. We'll get you all the water you want. Come on, let us help you downstairs." Jon gently coaxed his cousin.
He was at a loss here. How did you deal with this? Robb seemed to have lost his confidence, his courage. No lesson had ever prepared Jon for such a situation. He didn't want to patronize or diminish his cousin in the eyes of this bannermen but Robb needed help now. Perhaps they even needed to carry him down.
"Lean on me, Robb. You'll feel better once you are away from this cell. Some fresh air and seeing the faces of your loyal bannermen will make it more real. You are free Robb. It is over."
Jon helped Robb stand and let him lean heavily on his shoulder. "Greatjon, will you assist us, please?"
The big man who had been watching the scene closely took two large steps and stood beside them. "So you two really know each other and are friends?"
"Like brothers." Robb looked the Greatjon in the eye. "Like brothers." He repeated and sighed lowering his head again looking exhausted. "Don't hurt him."
"I wouldn't dare. I thought dragons burned people. This green dragon just bit Ramsay Snow's head off and spit it out." The big man told Robb Stark gleefully.
"Well, how else could he have killed the bastard without harming Uncle Benjen or any of you for that matter?" Jon said relieved that Robb had been able to utter a few words to his bannerman in defense of his cousin. It reassured him that Robb was aware of the situation to some degree.
"We couldn't use dragonfire," he completed his explanation.
That silenced Lord Umber for a moment. Jon and Umber worked together to get Robb safely down the narrow staircase. It took some effort but between the two of them they managed it. Lord Umber half-carried Robb part of the way.
"Where have they put Uncle Benjen?" Jon asked the people that gathered around them as soon as Robb was down. "Perhaps we can install Robb in the same room." Greywind followed them without pushing for Robb's attention.
"Follow me," Lord Karstark offered. Robb flanked by his cousin and the Greatjon stumbled in the direction of the main rooms of the Dreadfort.
Jon addressed the Lords that still followed them. "I think it is best to leave here as soon as my uncle and cousin are able to travel. Best check if there are wagons we can confiscate to carry them home. I saw several men of the Stark houseguard amongst the attackers. They can form a proper escort. Lord Edric of house Dayne and Lady Brienne of Tarth can help make the arrangements. Lord Loras of House Tyrell needs to accompany us back as well. I am sure anyone else that wishes to come along will be welcome at Winterfell."
Lord Umber, Lord Karstark, is anyone of you willing to set matters to rights here? Until Lord Stark decides the fate of the men at the Dreadfort and appoints a new Lord, someone needs to take charge."
"Lord Bolton, I mean Domeric Bolton is here, my Lord uh my Prince?" Lord Umber remarked.
"I'll talk to Benjen Stark but I think as matters stand Domeric Bolton will be a 'guest' at Winterfell until House Stark decides whether he will still be allowed to become the next Lord of the Dreadfort. We will vouch for him though. The information he volunteered helped us come up with a perfect plan."
"Jon, I need to sit down and soon." Robb complained and Jon could feel his cousin lean more heavily on him now.
"We'll discuss this later," Jon quickly told the Greatjon. He felt guilty for not seeing to Robb's comfort first. He focussed all his attention on getting Robb inside where he could rest.
"Almost there, Robb." Jon was out of breath when his cousin fell down in a chair next to the makeshift bed his uncle was lying on. He really needed to gain his strength back and soon. What a time to take that potion. He could add another stupid decision to his growing list of mistakes. The sound of a throat clearing made him aware he was daydreaming.
"Uncle Benjen," Jon was on his knees next to his uncle straightaway. "How are you feeling?"
"As if an arrow pierced my gut?" He joked. "I'll be fine, Jon. The Maester told me my boiled leathers slowed the arrow down and prevented it from going in too deep. Nothing vital has been hurt. It entered sideways and made an ugly large tear that needed to be stitched but didn't damage anything important. Apparently I fell to my knees for a flesh wound and am not really proud of myself. If I refrain from coughing and laughing the next few days, I will be all right. So no lame jokes if you please."
"I brought Robb to see you, Uncle. " Jon retreated a bit and let his uncle and cousin embrace each other clumsily in order not to hurt one another.
"So you are really part of the family? How come we never saw you around?" Greatjon Umber nudged Jon lightly.
"Benjen Stark visited me often enough. Robb was fostered out for a year, remember? And I did visit Winterfell once and the Wall as well when I was barely twelve. And as you know, Robb was present when I defended the Stony Shore." Jon summarized their relationship in a few sentences.
"Fostered at Greywater Watch, yes I remember. Lord Reed uh, the sly bastard." Lord Umber remarked.
"Slyer than you think, but a great foster-father all the same. I also spent several years at the Driftmark and have recently taken possession of Dragonstone." Jon added.
"Uh, and what is your name, Prince of Dragonstone. I believe you were formally introduced as Aegon but if I am not mistaken you answer when your kin calls you Jon?"
"Well they couldn't use my real name for obvious reasons, so I was given the name of Jon Celtigar. The widowed Lady Celtigar who lives at the Driftmark was my foster-grandmother. I've only known since my twelfth nameday that I am Prince Aegon Targaryen, pleased to meet you, Lord Umber." Jon made a formal bow but his eyes twinkled.
"And what are your plans for the North, 'Prince'?" The man ignored the tentative friendship offer of Jon. "Are we to kneel before you and fight your bloody wars so you can sit upon the Iron Throne?"
"I thought we agreed not to talk about politics, Lord Umber." Jon had sobered and looked at his uncle and cousin who were both talking, their faces close together identical expressions of pain but mostly relief on their faces.
"But I'll answer your question. Your liege Lord and Warden of the North has pledged fealty to me. He will stand by my side when I make my claim. You should realise that he has been gathering support for me in secret for more than seventeen years. We are well-prepared. We will try to skip the war and the bloodshed when we make a beeline for the throne soon." Jon didn't blink when he met the stern stare of the Northern Lord.
"Mmmh, you will not ask for our swords?" The Greatjon asked looking skeptical.
Lord Umber was just testing him now, Jon was almost sure of it. He kept his voice blank when he answered. "Lord Stark might, but most likely it will be symbolically only. He will declare that the North stands behind me and you all not contradicting him will hopefully be as much as will be asked of you on that front at least. But please no more talk of politics for now."
"Do not pester my nephew, Greatjon. You will know everything soon enough. Jon, I suggest we do not leave here today. Let us make preparations for a warm wholesome meal tonight with all the men of the North who have gathered here. Now that they have met you and your dragons, they are entitled to know what is to come and what their Liege Lord expects of them."
"I agree, Uncle. I will address them formally. He turned to his cousin who sat stiffly in a chair near the headrest of their uncle's bed. "Robb, you need not attend if you are not up to it. Uncle Benjen can represent your interests."
Robb's eyes were a bit more alert when he replied. "We'll see, Jon. Let me first eat something. It is only morning. If I can rest most of the day I might be well enough. Will you let Greywind come to me now? He has been patient long enough. He must really obey you to keep his distance for this long."
"I try." Jon answered dryly and turned his head to look at Greywind. Human and animal stared at each other for a moment before the direwolf bowed his head to Jon. Everyone in the room looked on with amazement as they witnessed the large direwolf walk over to the heir of Winterfell at a sedate pace, calmly settle down at his feet and put his head in his master's lap in a very gentle and devoted manner. Jon just shrugged his shoulders which made the Greatjon chortle at first only to burst out in deep loud hearty laughter the next moment, his big belly was shaking as he slapped it.
"Ouch!" Benjen Stark exclaimed. "I warned you not to make me laugh." Even Robb looked amused.
Jon allowed a smile to appear on his face as well. Things would be all right.
***
Interlude 25: The Prince Who Was Promised
"Not again." Thoros of Myr complained out loud seeing the red priestess approach. He had lost count how often she had come to interrogate him. At first he had not cooperated and stayed silent, unwilling to offer any information to the woman who had burned his friend and loyal companion alive. But she had found the argument that made him talk time and again although he had nothing new left to say.
Immediately upon their arrival they had been apprehended. Even before they had uttered their names, guards had seized them and imprisoned him. They had tied his friend to a pole on the cliff. The red priestess, Melisandre had seen their arrival in the flames and had convinced Prince Stannis Baratheon that they were traitors. That very same night, he had heard the screams of his friend while he was burned alive. He had not been able to see it from his prison cell but he knew very well what had happened to his friend.
His fellow prisoners had informed him it that was a recurring event these days at Storm's End. Just before dark, they would light fires on the cliffs and worship the Lord of Light. And when it fancied the red woman, she would pick someone from the prison cells and offer him up to her Lord of Light. She even had the nerve to burn Edric Storm, the royal bastard that had been fostered at Storm's End under the protection of Prince Renly all these years.
When Thoros of Myr had uttered his disbelief, they had convinced him that Prince Stannis himself had given her permission. Apparently she had promised him the Lord of Light would bless Stannis even more when he offered Him royal blood. As it happened, days later, the royal decree had arrived that proclaimed Prince Stannis the official Lord of Storm's End and first in line to inherit the Iron Throne. After that Prince Stannis had been even more inclined to heed the words of the Red Priestess or so his fellow prisoners had told him.
Some still had connections with the servants and got snippets of information and extra food whenever possible. When Thoros had expressed his hopes for more substantial help from them they had disabused him. Nobody dared to help them escape. The servants lived in constant fear of ending up as the evening's sacrifice. One small misstep and the Red Priestess just pointed her finger at them and their fate was sealed. His fellow prisoners had told him they were grateful for what they brought and had learned not to plead for more so as not to scare the few brave ones away and be left totally isolated.
So far, Melisandre had not wanted to burn him. She always asked him what he knew, what R'hllor had revealed to him about the Prince Who Was Promised. He sighed, and steeled himself for the coming interrogation.
"Thoros of Myr, I have come bearing food and drink. Let us talk some more." Melisandre seated herself on the chair in his solitary cell. A servant brought food, drink and a bustle of wood for his cold lonely cell.
He had only spent one night in the common cell. The day after his friend had been offered to R'hllor, he had been moved to a solitary cell so the red priestess could interrogate him in private. She had been pale that day and had asked him about their true purpose in coming to Storm's End. Still in shock after the death of his friend and long time travel companion he had not spoken one word to her that night. She had given up after a while and warned him she would seek council in the flames once more and would be back.
The next night she had introduced a few children to him. Birds sent from the capital to spy on her. Each day he talked to her and cooperated was a day longer these children would get to live. If he refused to talk or was caught in a lie, a child would die. So he had talked.
"Why did you kill my friend?" He had started their first conversation on his terms.
"You came here to spy. He was guilty of that. His death was necessary. The flames burned brighter that night and for the first time in moons the Lord of Light showed me the Prince Who Was Promised again." She looked him straight in the eyes. "Lord Dondarrion knew about the Prince and you do as well. You also believe the Long Night will come in our lifetime and only the Prince Who Was Promised can save us. We must work together." She had tried to stare right through him, willing him with her eyes to cooperate.
"I thought you already found your Prince, my Lady. I know you have Stannis Baratheon convinced that he is the one who was promised."
"I admit I did. Before your friend burned, I was convinced he was the one I saw in the flames. He fitted all my expectations. Prince Stannis believes in the Lord of Light and he heeds my guidance."
"Then why are you here? Why do you need my cooperation so badly?"
"I told you. I saw something in the flames when your friend burned. I sensed the power of the Lord of Light. You resurrected Lord Dondarrion, didn't you? Several times if I am correct."
He tried not to let her unwavering stare affect him. "I did. But he is dead to stay now. You have seen to that." Thoros' voice had betrayed his grief.
"I am sorry. If I had known your quest was the same as mine I would not have burned him. R'hllor showed me that it was wrong to burn him." She had looked at him beseechingly. "Why have you come to Storm's End? What do you know about the true Prince Who Was Promised?" This time she had deepened her voice to try and seduce him into confiding in her.
"I know Stannis Baratheon is a false Prince. I saw the true Prince in the flames in the far north when Stannis was here in the south. We came to warn you that you were wrong but look how that turned out. Why should I still want to help you? You are no true servant of the Lord of Light. You are just a murderess threatening to kill innocent children. I will pray to the Lord of Light that he may strike you down the next time you burn an innocent man, woman or child without just reason."
Melisandre had been taken aback and had left that day only to come back the next, and the next. Thoros had lost count.
And now she was here again. Thoros didn't know if he looked forward to sparring with her because of the fact that his solitary confinement was slowly making him mad or because he relished the fact that she looked more haggard each time he saw her. The confident stately woman that had strode in his prison cell the first night was replaced by a tired woman in dirty clothing.
"Good evening, my Lady. I see you are once more in need of my council." He taunted her. He would never forgive her for the fate of his friend.
"Are you willing to help today then?" She looked him in the eyes. "I am going to build a fire and we are both going to pray to the Lord of Light. Perhaps he can convince you to work with me. We have the same goal, Thoros. If only you would believe that."
"How is Prince Stannis treating you these days, my Lady?" he ignored her statement. "Am I right when I surmise you have fallen out of favour?"
"He has fallen out of mine. He is no longer willing to go north. He is planning..." She stopped.
"Tell me, Melisandre. What is he planning? Will he hurt the Prince Who Was Promised or does he threaten to hurt you?"
Melisandre put a hand on her abdomen in a protective gesture. He will not hurt me. I carry his child. Let us both look in the fire today. I am prepared to release you today if you tell me all you know."
That was a new tactic. He pondered her words. "If I tell you what I see in this fire you are going to make, you will release me?" he reformulated her promise. He finally knew what she wanted from him. The woman was pregnant and probably hoped her child with royal blood could be the Prince Who Was Promised.
"I will." She promised him and bent over to gather the firewood.
"Then I will make the fire myself. Just pass it to me." He picked the dry wood up from the floor and quickly built a fire in the corner near a window.
A while later they were both staring at the fire until their eyes hurt. Nothing happened. "The Lord of Light will not show us a message unless we offer him something." She concluded her voice betraying utter disappointment.
"The Lord of Light does not favour you any longer." Thoros retorted, still not able to feel sympathetic towards her. "I guess that means I am not being released." He looked resigned. "Will you burn me next?"
"That will not be necessary. Goodbye, Thoros." She gathered her robes around her and quickly left the small cell that was now filled with smoke without looking back.
Thoros resigned himself to spending another night in the cold cell and lay down on the ground. He was finally dosing off when two guards noisily entered his cells and emptied a bucket of water over him.
"Make yourself presentable. Prince Stannis wants to see you."
Thoros scrambled to his feet and used the inside of his cloak to wipe the water and dirt off his face and hands. They pushed him in front of them and told him to march to the main building. He was unceremoniously shoved into a room. When he looked around he saw only Stannis standing before a window. The Baratheon Prince turned around when the doors closed with a loud bang.
"Thoros of Myr?" When Thoros nodded silently the Prince looked at him with a stern face. "I received a message from the Hand of the King, Lord Eddard Stark. Apparently the King asks for my return to the capital and to bring a certain Lord Beric of House Dondarrion and Thoros of Myr who are currently my guests with me. Why didn't you tell me you were a royal emissary?"
"We were not given a chance to speak." Thoros spat out. He could not bring himself to use the loathsome man's title to address him.
"I will not apologize for the fate of Lord Dondarrion. He should have spoken up. Be glad you are still alive. I am sending you to the capital today. You can tell my brother that I am not accepting his invitation. I was never one to attend tournaments, the King knows that." Stannis Baratheon turned away, ready to leave the room.
"Will you allow me to take the children with me to King's Landing at least? I mean the ones that you have imprisoned under the pretext that they are spies."
Stannis Baratheon turned back and frowned at the red priest. "Are you claiming that they are not?"
"I do not know either way. But they are just children and even if they came here to spy, then that was only because they were manipulated into it. They are just small children. The red priestess told me they were apprehended before they could learn anything useful."
When he noticed that Stannis was considering his request seriously, he added. "I'll forgive you for Lord Dondarrion's unlawful execution and speak up for you with King Robert."
"I don't care what my brother's thinks. But I will grant you your wish. I want you gone before nightfall." Stannis Baratheon left the room without looking back.
Thoros didn't hesitate. Eager not to run into Melisandre he quickly gathered the children and left Storm's End cursing Prince Stannis and the red woman. The only intelligence he had been able to gather for Lord Reed was that the red priestess and Prince Stannis were both raving mad and unpredictable. He wished he had never undertaken the journey to Storm's End. At least he had been allowed to bring the children with him.
***
The second day on the road the oldest of the girls came to sit next to him when they stopped to eat a small portion of the provisions a Baratheon guard had handed him just before they departed. The guard had also brought another girl to take along, declaring she had been separated from the rest since it was her turn to be interrogated. It was that girl that now sought his company.
"Are we really going to King's Landing to see the King?" She asked in a timid voice.
He looked at her curiously. Her accent, or rather lack of one, made him aware that she had been brought up amongst nobles. The hood she always wore concealed the better part of her face so he couldn't really see what she looked like.
"Do you have kin in King's Landing?" he asked wondering which household she had grown up in.
She now turned her face to him and dropped the hood. "I am the King's niece." She stated simply. "Mother sent me away before Father could have me burned."
That night Thoros of Myr didn't stay awake to ponder why his friend had died and what the purpose of the Lord of Light had been when he sent them on this quest. He was grateful he had saved several children from a horrible, painful death and one Princess from a mad and cruel parent. He now prayed that her mother would stay safe. Perhaps the fact that she only married royalty would save her since her blood was not strictly King's blood. If Prince Stannis needed royal blood, he'd just have to burn himself. A man could dream, couldn't he? For the first time since arriving at Storm's End, Thoros slept rather well.