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Staring at his reflection in the mirror, Robb Stark pulled at his doublet, making sure for the twentieth time that morning that everything was perfect. 'Everything's right. Freshly shaved and hair cut correctly. Lightsaber on my belt…No fraying on my doublet or any dirt…Gods…Stop! I think I've spent more time standing in front of this thing than Sansa!'
"For the twentieth time this very morning, Robb, you look fine," Talisa spoke up from behind him, making him start slightly as he'd forgotten she was even in the same room as he. Which she of course immediately took note of. "What's this? Did I give the great and powerful Young Wolf of Winterfell a start? Or is it simply that you forgot I was in the room with you? Oh…whatever shall I tell my father, that my chosen husband would so soon forget about me in favor of his own reflection."
"Gods, woman," Robb sighed, though with slight humor as he turned to the woman he fully intended on spending the rest of his life with, "and here I thought that a wife was supposed to support her husband in all things?"
"Perhaps," Talisa shrugged with a playful grin cross her own face in return. "But then again, we are not husband and wife yet, are we?"
"Yet," Robb countered with a smile, but just as he was about to lean in to try and kiss her, a knock on his door interrupted the two of them. "What is it?" he asked in exasperation.
"Apologies for intruding, milord," one of the Stark guards said through the still closed door. "But a runner just came by. The banners of House Manderly have been spotted and will be in Winterfell soon, milord."
Robb's nerves, which had begun to dissipate thanks to Talisa's teasing, came back tenfold as the knowledge that he was about to meet his future wife's family hit him. "Thank you," Robb called out, taking a few deep breaths to try and calm himself. "I wonder if it's too late to run out and join Lord Nox's training in the Wolfswood."
Two days past, Lord Nox had taken all of his acolytes; Sansa, Arya, Bran, Joy Lannister, Shireen Baratheon, and Gendry Waters, out into the Wolfswood for training. It was a training that both Robb and Jon had endured and barely survived years ago. But given the choice before him…he was truly considering that reliving said training might be easier than what he was about to face.
"None of that," Talisa scolded him. "You've faced down assassins, wildlings, creatures of legends, your own bannerman, and a nightmarish training by the Sorcerer that I can't even begin to comprehend. You can handle meeting my family. And trust me Robb, my father and mother will approve of you. My mother will because she will think you are of high enough status for me. And my father will respect the fact that you have distinguished yourself on the field of battle. And even if they don't approve of you…Well, it doesn't matter. I've chosen you, Robb. I've chosen the North. And nothing and no one, not even my own family, will change my mind."
Smiling, Robb looked at his future wife. She may not have been born in the North. But she was as much a Northerner as any woman he'd met. "Aye," he nodded, holding out his arm for her to take. "Then let us go and meet your family, soon-to-be-Lady Stark."
In seemingly no time at all, Robb and Talisa were out in the yard alongside their father waiting for the arrival of their guests. Shortly after their arrival, Robb's heart threatened to leap out of his chest as he saw the banners of House Manderly make their way through the gate and into the heart of Winterfell. Robb immediately spotted Lord Manderly in the lead, which wasn't the greatest feat known to man given the man's size. Honestly, Robb was impressed that the horse the Lord of White Harbor was riding was able to stay upright, though he would never say that part aloud. Next he spotted his brother Jon riding beside the Lord of White Harbor. His brother looked…good. His skin was a touch darker than when he'd left, but he would know his brother anywhere.
The last member that was riding near the front was an older man that Robb did not recognize, but he knew him almost immediately. 'Triarch Maegyr…Talisa's father.' While Talisa's father was a touch older than he would've thought, the man reminded Robb a lot of a Northern Lord. Even from this distance he could tell that Talisa's father was a man for action over words. Once they were within the main yard of Winterfell, his father took the lead and walked forward to greet their guests. "Jon, son," his father said, greeting Jon in a warm embrace. "It's good to have you home, son."
Jon smiled, and nodded his head, "it's good to be home, father. Brother, you're looking well. And you as well, Talisa…or should I say soon-to-be-goodsister?"
"I see the Dornish have rubbed off on you a bit, brother," Robb smiled, embracing his brother before letting him go and turning to greet Lord Manderly, who was just finishing getting off his horse while simultaneously greeting Robb's father.
Giving his own greeting to the Lord of White Harbor, Robb braced himself as he turned to the last member of the lead trio. "Triarch Malaquo Maegyr," his lord father greeted the man, just as a woman and a younger lad, Talisa's mother and brother, walked forward from one of the carriages that'd been part of the retinue. "Welcome to the North. I am Lord Eddard Stark, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell. This is my son and heir, Robb Stark. I would offer you and yours bread and salt, as is custom when receiving guests in Westeros."
The Triarch nodded and remained silent as several servants walked up to present their visitors with bread and salt, hereby granting them guest rites under the laws of gods and men. "Interesting customs you have here, Lord Stark." The Triarch stated as he ate the offering.
His father's face betrayed nothing as he spoke. "Perhaps, Triarch Maegyr. But they are part of the laws of gods and men that govern these lands. And only a fool would seek to violate those laws."
"Indeed," Talisa's father nodded. "Even in Volantis, we have heard tales of what happened to those who last violated your 'guest rites', as you call them. And we have no desire to follow in their example."
"Then why have you come, father?" Talisa spoke up for the first time since the group had arrived.
The Triarch turned his attention to his daughter, and Robb could've sworn he saw a hint of sorrow in the man's eye when he glanced towards Talisa. But it was gone so quickly that he wasn't sure it was even there in the first place. "Is that really such a mystery, Talisa?" the Triarch asked. "Despite our disagreements, you are still my eldest, and only, daughter. Do you really think that I would not move the heavens and earth to be here to see you wed?"
Robb knew Talisa well enough to tell that she was moved by the sentiment, even if she didn't show it. "Thank you…father," she said with a small smile before turning her attention to her mother and brother. "Mother, Maliki."
The young boy clearly couldn't hold himself back anymore as he threw himself forward, arms outstretched as he made a dash for Talisa. Talis immediately opened her arms and grabbed her brother in a tight hug, lifting him off the ground as she did. The young boy started excitedly speaking in High Valyrian so fast that Robb couldn't follow anything the two were saying to each other. Letting them have their little reunion, Robb straightened himself and turned his attention to Talisa's father. Unsure of what exactly to say, and not wanting to just stand awkwardly waiting to be addressed, Robb gave a slight bowing of his head to Talisa's father. "Honored Triarch Maegyr. It is an honor to meet you. Talisa has told me much about her family and I look forward to getting to know my soon-to-be wife's family more intimately."
Robb had stood tall before King Robert, before the King-Beyond-the-Wall Mance Rayder, and before many of his own fierce bannerman without blinking an eye or feeling such nerves as he did in this moment. But standing before Talisa's father, he found himself far more nervous than ever before. "So, you are the boy that thinks he can take my daughter away from me and marry her without my say so?"
Robb found himself getting defensive, not just for his own sake but for Talisa's as well. He was no boy. He'd bloodied himself in battle, led his bannerman in times of peace in his father's place, and dispensed justice when it was called for. And while he might be a 'maid', he was not ignorant nor wholly innocent. "I may not have your years, honored Triarch, but I am no boy. As for taking your daughter, no man can take your daughter. She is far too strong of a woman for that. I am fortunate to have the honor to say that she has chosen me to be her husband. And, yes, I fully intend on marrying your daughter within the close of the sennight, honored Triarch."
Talisa's father narrowed his gaze at him, clearly trying to intimidate him. But Robb held firm. He would not back down. Without warning, the Triarch smiled and nodded. "You've got some strength to you, young man. I still don't know if you are truly worthy of my daughter's hand, but that is more the father in me not wanting to part with my daughter. But…she certainly could've done far worse in her choice of suitor."
"Where's the Sorcerer?"
All eyes in the yard turned to the smallest within their group. Talisa's brother, just now realizing he'd voice his question aloud and in the Westerosi tongue, suddenly looked sheepish as he tried to hide behind his sister from the looks his father and mother were giving him. Smiling, and being reminded slightly of Arya, Robb squatted down in front of the boy and gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "You must be Maliki? Talisa's told me a lot about you, especially the mischief you like to get yourself into… Quite similar to my own brother and sister, Bran and Arya. In fact, I think you three will get along quite well. As for Lord Nox, he is out in the Wolfswood imparting his lessons upon my brother, sisters, and the other Acolytes. They should all be returning this very night. And if you wish to meet him, I will be more than happy to introduce you."
The little boy nearly jumped in delight. "Yes! I – I mean, umm…Thank you, Lord Stark. I would…appreciate the…introduction."
Smiling, Robb reached a hand out and ruffled the young boy's hair. "It would be my pleasure, young ser. Perhaps until Lord Nox returns, you might like to see the rest of Winterfell?"
Maliki nodded enthusiastically and grabbed his sister's hand. Clearly, he was not planning on being parted from her anytime soon. "A fine idea, young man," Talisa's father nodded before turning and barking out a few commands in High Valyrian, prompting several of the servants…or rather slaves, behind him to start unloading the carriages. "Why don't you go with them, my dear? While you see what our daughter's future home has to offer, the elder Lord Stark and I have things to discuss. In private."
Robb wanted to be part of whatever talks were about to happen between his father and Talisa, but he also recognized that these were not talks between two of the nobility, but rather between two fathers whose children were about to be married.
"Of course," his father agreed. "Chambers have been prepared for you and yours. As well as you and yours, Lord Manderly. The servants will show your people where to place their belongings and where they themselves can lay their heads at night. Robb, take your time and show them everything. Jon, we will talk later about what happened in Dorne. Honored Triarch, if you will please follow me, I will show you to my solar."
Watching everyone begin to disperse, Robb felt a lump form in his throat as he watched his father and Talisa's father walk off together towards the main keep of Winterfell. For some reason, the fact that Talisa's father was now here and talking to his own father about their upcoming marriage just made the whole situation seem more…well…more like it was happening. That really didn't make sense to him, yet it was what he felt. Breathing to steady himself, he looked for his brother for support, only to find him being dragged off towards the Sorcerer's Tower by Ygritte. And based on the look on both his brother and the spear-wife's face…he would be getting no help from either for quite some time yet.
"My lady, young ser, and Lady Maegyr," he said, holding out his arm Talisa to take, which she immediately did while still holding onto her brother's hand. "If you will please follow me, I believe we shall start at where Talisa and I will be wed. The godswood."
Ned Stark was no stranger to dealing with difficult or even awkward conversations, but the one that he was about to have been already starting out far more difficult than he could've imagined. While Robb and Talisa were showing his future gooddaughter around Winterfell, Ned had retired to his solar with the Triarch so that the two men could have a discussion between fathers and their children's upcoming wedding. The man was much as Talisa had described him. A hard no-nonsense man that was straight forward and to the point. Even though they'd only just met, Ned knew that, slavery aside, the Triarch would've been a fine Lord of the North.
Once the two men were sequestered into his solar, with both Stark guards and the Tiger guards standing vigil outside, Ned wordlessly offered the man a cup of Northern liquor before the two settled in before the burning hearth in the room. Malaquo nodded his thanks and took the cup, giving it a tentative sniff before a slight sip. "Interesting," the man muttered, staring at the cup, "I've heard of your Northern liquor before arriving, and I'm pleased to see that it lives up to the praise it's generated. Not ale, nor wine…if anything I would liken it to a type of drink made in Yi Ti from a local crop they have called rice."
"I have not heard of that," Ned replied calmly, taking a drink as he did so. "Ours is made from the sweet sap from several types of trees found primarily here in the North. But I doubt you've request to speak with me in private just to talk about alcohol."
"Straight and to the point, I respect that, Lord Stark."
"Ned," Ned offered. "Those I consider my friends, and those who are my family use my name while in private."
He caught the slightest bit of a smirk from the Triarch, "Ned then. And I am Malaquo while we are in private. And the matter of family is why I am here after all. So, let us talk family, and the joining of our two families."
"Aye," Ned nodded. "Do you have objections to your daughter marrying my son and becoming the next Lady Stark?"
"On principle, I do not." Malaquo said simply. "Your son appears a good man. And I know my daughter. She would not choose a fool to spend her life with. She's far too strong-willed for that. But you and I both know that marriage between our children is not such a simple thing. Negotiations, dowries, political repercussions, trade agreements...all the other horse shit that nobles and those with even the slightest bit of wealth deem important. The isolation and slight hostility of the North to outsiders is well known, even in Essos. And my daughter is to lead your people one day as Lady Stark. Will she be respected? All these things must be solved before a union between our two children be finalized."
Nodding, Ned finished his cup and set it aside. "Then let us begin. Firstly, your daughter's status amongst the North. What you say is true in that many in the North are wary of outsiders. Mostly this comes from centuries, millennia even, of those from outside the North trying to force either their authority or faith upon our people. But we are not fools. Talisa, it would be a lie to say that many were not wary of her when she first arrived. But she has made her place here within the North, both amongst the smallfolk and the nobles. I've seen her cower some of my most headstrong bannermen with but a single glance. And while I will not lie and say that some will not be overly pleased with her becoming Lady Stark, there are none that will disrespect her. She's done far too much for the North and her people for that. And while I will not say that I know your daughter through and through, she is not the type of woman to be disrespected."
"That's good to know." Malaquo nodded, seemingly put slightly at ease. "Now we come to the question of her dowry then. While not as much a custom amongst the wealthy of Essos, bridal gifts, or dowry as you understand them, are still expected. For one such as my daughter, traditionally she would be gifted over a dozen slaves to help with her new household. But knowing my daughter and the North as I do, I doubt such a gift would go over well."
"No, it would not." Ned replied, still repulsed by the idea of slavery. A repulsion that'd only grown since listening to the harrowing tales from some of those who'd escaped slavery and made their home here in the North. "There are no slaves in the North, nor in any other part of Westeros."
"I know, which is why I was fairly surprised to see a number of 'marked' individuals in both White Harbor and even here in Winterfell and that small town outside your walls." Malaquo replied with a knowing look.
Ned didn't back down from the challenge. "There are no slaves here in the North. Every man, woman and child who calls the North their home is free from whatever chains that might've bound them in the past."
"I have no intent on pressing the issue of escaped slaves, nor will I be pressuring any exile who might be helping said slaves set up a new life here in the North," Malaquo stated placatingly and knowingly at the same time. "In fact, I would say that I have even be so inclined to aid an exile who just might be shipping more than goods from the place my daughter calls home."
Ned could read through his words easily enough. Malaquo knew of Domeric, or more specifically he knew that while Domeric was technically an exile, he was still in service to the North. Though the fact that Malaquo was all but saying that he'd been helping Domeric in his mission of aiding escaped slaves to the North was…odd to say the least. "Forgive my saying this, but why would the leader of people who thrive on the slave trade have reason to see those same slave's escape?"
"Politics. It always comes back to the shit games and politics people love to play," Malaquo spat. "An example perhaps. There was a rising figure within the Elephants, think of them as a rival House so to speak. The man was making a fortune in selling very high-quality tapestries. Well, it turns out that his success was due to three slave girls who were incredibly skilled. The man constantly bragged about how his slaves, even though he couldn't name them, could out do anyone else in their trade. And he was right. He was making a fortune on their work. His aspirations started turning from coin to political power. He was gaining momentum with some rather…well distaste full practices and laws. Then one day his three slave girls that practically gave him his fortune just…disappeared. Unable to replace them, within two moons turn his estate crumbled and he lost all the political momentum he'd had. No one could figure out what happened to those three slave girls. But my guess is that someone made sure that they found their way to an exile, who then perhaps spirited them away. And curiously enough…I noticed two of those slave girls working in White Harbor and the third working here in Winterfell. I wonder how they could've gotten here?"
The story was far more convoluted than Ned would've liked, but he could see the meaning through the words. Malaquo had sabotaged a rival of his by taking away his greatest assets that built his fortune and spirited them away to the North through Domeric. "Others would've sought an easier path," Ned countered, thinking of the likes of Tywin Lannister or the Mad King, who would've simply just had the girls killed.
"Perhaps," Malaquo nodded. "But despite what many may think, not everyone who owns or deals in the slave trade simply kills slaves on a whim. It's illegal in Volantis to harm a slave without due cause, especially if it is a slave you do not own. And besides, those girls were beyond talented. Disposing of them permanently would've been a waste."
Leaning back, Ned drummed his fingers against the armrest of his chair. "So your solution to not providing a dowry for Talisa is instead to not interfere with what is happening in Essos. Which is something that you are already taking advantage of to gain leverage over any potential rivals that might come your way."
"In part," Malaquo nodded. "But I also seek to aid in the expansion of your trade in Essos. As it stands, Northern trade, even through your exile, is limited to Braavos, Pentos, and a few other places along the coast of the Narrow Sea. I control the Tigers within Volantis, and with that comes control of the Tiger guards. I will have in writing Volantis's commitment to aid in the trade of items from the North deeper into Essos. Provided of course that Volantis has a preferable trade arrangement on all goods from the North."
The deal was decent. And it benefited both sides. The North would be able to continue its task of freeing slaves, with a layer of added protection as Malaquo would not want his involvement made common knowledge. And they would also be able to make further inroads into their trading with Essos. And while some might say that they didn't need Essos for trade, Ned was of the mind that one could never have too many trade partners, especially during the winter years as it would prevent certain parties from trying to take advantage of them during desperate times. And they would also gain the protection of the Tiger guards of Volantis for some of their trade routes. And as for Malaquo, he would maintain a way to harm his rivals by getting rid of key slaves of certain nobles. And he also gained the prestige of having made a beneficial trade deal with the North.
"Acceptable," Ned nodded, holding out his hand. "I will have my steward write up the agreement in terms of trade. As for the slaves, I believe such a thing would be best left in words only."
Smiling, Malaquo immediately took the offered hand, sealing the deal by word. "We have an accord, Ned Stark of Wintefell. Now, tell me about the marriage ceremonies of the North? I fear my knowledge of Northern culture is limited at best. Though I did try and read up on what information I had available to me on the voyage here."
Resting in her tent, her eyes gazing at the dragon egg laid out on the burning brazier before her, Dany pondered her life. She had never thought that she would find herself as she was now, wife to a great Khal of the Dothraki and owner of not one, but four dragon eggs. Yet here she was. And truthfully her life was not horrible. In fact, she would go as far as saying that her life had improved in droves since she decided to take Khal Drogo as her husband. Jon's advice had proven true. And while Drogo did indeed match many of the stigma's attached to the Dothraki, he was also protective, caring, challenging, and encouraging of her and her wishes. Even if said wishes went against what was considered 'tradition' for a Khaleesi. And most importantly, he listened to her. He wasn't just amusing her till she gave him what she wanted, she could tell that he was genuinely interested in her, her ideas. It was a very pleasant change of pace from her life when it was just her and her brother.
"Khaleesi, do you wish to ride today?"
Just barely managing to keep herself from jumping, Dany tore her eyes away from the egg on the fire and towards her three handmaidens: Doreah, Irri, and Jhiqui. Each of whom were staring at her with worry. "No," Dany replied, shaking her head while her hand went to her midsection. "I don't feel myself this morning and would prefer to rest. Unless Drogo is looking to ride, then I will join him."
"The Great Khal has not decided to ride yet today," Irri responded while Doreah knelt next to Dany beside the fire. "Yet the sun has yet to fully rise, it is likely that he will ride with his bloodriders before the sun is high in the sky."
Listening to Irri, Dany had put Doreah almost completely out of her mind as she turned her attention back to the egg in the flames. Yet that changed as Doreah's slim hand firmly, yet gently, cupped her breast before moving down and pressing on her stomach. "Doreah!" she gasped, starting and moving back from her handmaiden's touch.
"Forgive me, milady," Doreah nodded respectfully, her hand still outstretched. "May I ask how long it has been since you last had your moonblood?"
Dany went to answer her, but her words died on her lips. She honestly did not remember when she last had her moonblood. She remembered at least one instance since her marriage to Drogo…but since then…she couldn't remember. Doreah took her silence as all the answer she needed, while behind her both Irri and Jhiqui beamed at her. "I know the signs milady, Khaleesi. Given the life you saved me from. And given that you and the Khal both have a…veracious appetite for pleasures of the flesh, I am honestly surprised it took this long for the seed to take hold and bring forth a child in your womb."
"A child…so soon," Irri smiled. "Truly, our Khaleesi and Khal are blessed by the Great Stallion for the seed to take hold so quickly."
"Yes," Dany nodded, her hand resting lightly atop her stomach, where she now knew a child lay within. "Blessed indeed…go and inform my husband and brother of my…condition. I – I wish to be alone for a time."
Her handmaidens immediately got up and left to go and tell her husband and brother the news of her pregnancy. Now alone, Dany's eyes glanced towards the egg that was in the fire, then drifting over to where her three additional eggs lay. She'd taken Jon's lessons on the Valyrian's dragons to heart and had decided that she would only try to hatch a single egg. The rest she would leave for her children or descendants to hatch. And now, now she had a child in her womb. A child who would one day lay claim to one of the other three eggs and become a dragon rider. 'Jon told me that the Dragon Lords of old took what made their enemies strong unto themselves to make themselves stronger,' Dany thought with a small smile, her hand rubbing her belly. 'My child, the child of perhaps the greatest Dothraki Khal shall take their lineage of the Dothraki and become the greatest dragon rider ever. And together…we will rebuild the Valyrian Empire here in Essos. Bring back the glory of my ancestors.'
Smiling at the thought of once again bringing about the glory of Valyria to Essos, Dany was forcibly broken from her thoughts at the sound of a strangled cry, followed quickly by her tent flap flying open and a person falling face first into her tent.
Rising to her feet, Dany's heart thundered in her chest as she instinctively reached out for the Force, only to faulter as she saw her brother, madder than she had ever seen him, standing just within the flap of her tent. "How…How dare you send this…this whore to summon me like a common fucking servant!"
"For–Forgive me…milady…"
Dany looked down and found herself unable to move as she looked at the face of her handmaiden Doreah. A face that had a large red mark that was already starting to darken staining the side of her face along with a split in her lip. Her fear and uncertainty that'd caused her to freeze disappeared. Replaced with a rage she had never felt. "What. Have. You. Done…Brother?"
Her brother, either not noticing or not caring about her anger, snarled and gestured wildly towards Doreah. "This whore came to my tent, my tent! And dared to try and summon me! Me! I am the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms! I will not be summoned by some whore by you of al-"
Dany didn't need to hear the rest. Lashing out with her anger, Dany slashed her arm through the air as if she were backhanding her brother. Even though he was clear across the tent and out of the reach of her arm, he was not out of the reach of the Force. Her attack took him full in the chest, sending flying with his arms and legs waving about trying to do anything to stop himself. But he was hopeless to do anything as he landed hard on the ground a fair distance from her tent. His momentum causing him to continue rolling back through the dirt even after he hit the ground.
Holding out her hand, Dany helped Doreah rise to her feet before marching out of her tent with her anger still raging through her being. Just outside her tent, a crowd had begun to form, watching as Viserys coughed and spit out a mixture of dirt and blood as he tried to regain his footing. "D–Dany…"
Frowning, Dany cut her hand down through the air like it was an axe chopping wood. In response, Viserys was forced back to the ground face first with enough force to push all the air out of his body. Just as she stepped forward to further her lesson, a second commotion in the crowd gave her pause as she felt a familiar presence approach quickly.
Keeping one eye on her still struggling brother, Dany turned just in time to watch her husband break through the crowd. Drogo's face, and entire being for that matter, was screaming how pleased and…happy he was. An odd feeling from her usually hard and stoic husband, but there was no denying what she was sensing. And his joy fought back against her anger, dimming it slightly. But then his expression faltered as he noticed what was going on, and just who was on his hands and knees before her.
"My sun and stars," Drogo said in the Dothraki tongue. "Did he harm you?"
"No," she replied, her words coming out slowly as she was still not completely fluent in her husband's tongue. "But he…violated my commands and…raised a hand against my…servant."
Glancing past her husband, she eyed his four bloodriders who were standing just behind Drogo. "Get my brother to his…feet. And bare his back to me."
The four hesitated, but a quick nod from Drogo was all it took to make the men move. Despite Viserys's protests, he was in no position to resist as the four larger men grabbed his arms and forced him to his feet. Roughly turning him so that his back was towards Dany, they then made quick work of his coat and shirt by ripping them from his body, exposing his back to her and Drogo. Feeling calmer than she should, despite her anger, Dany slowly and purposefully walked up to her husband. Reaching to his waist, she slowly undid the bindings of his belt before removing it from his person. The belt was made of leather, and incredibly heavy due in no small part to the gold coins, disks and other trinkets that covered almost every bit of the leather.
Sensing a feeling of approval from Drogo, Dany slowly walked over to where her brother was still struggling as he tried in vain to turn around enough to see what was happening. But her husband's bloodriders were more than strong enough to hold him in place. "Dany!" Viserys cried. "Wha–What are you—?!"
"Doreah. How many times did he strike you?" She asked, slowly turning the heavy belt over in her hands.
Doreah, who'd managed to regain her composure to a point, stood beside Dany. "Six times, Khaleesi. Thrice upon my face, and thrice upon my body."
Nodding, Dany held one end of the belt and let the other swing free, almost touching the ground. "Jhiqui, speak my words exactly as I say them." She said, giving her handmaiden a moment to step up before speaking loudly and clearly with Jhiqui translating her words so that all could understand her. "When I took Doreah, Irri, and Jhiqui as my handmaidens, I declared that any action taken against them would be considered an action taken against myself. This was not made in jest. And not even my brother was exempt from my words. My brother struck what is mine six times. Therefore, he shall be struck six times in return."
Swinging the belt forward to build momentum, Dany brought the heavy gold and leather back, swinging her arm around and above her head before bringing it down with as much force as she could muster. The gold and leather struck her brothers back with a loud hit, accompanied by Viserys's screams of pain as the gold on the belt dug into his flesh, leaving welts and even a few slight cuts. She wanted to stop after that first strike, but she knew that she couldn't. She had to be strong. She made a decree, one that even her brother was not safe from. Should she show him mercy that would not be granted to others, then she would lose respect amongst those who were now her people.
Pushing aside thoughts that she was punishing her brother, Dany instead focused on Doreah, on the pain she'd suffered at this man's hands instead. Swinging the belt forward then back, Dany brought the belt back down upon Viserys's back, crossing her first strike. Viserys screamed and his knees buckled, but her husband's bloodriders refused to let him collapse to the ground as their hold on him strengthened, keeping him on his feet until the end of his punishment. After laying the sixth strike upon him, Viserys's back was a mess of welts, cuts, and bruises.
Her breath coming out in a quick pants, Dany wordlessly held the belt out for her husband to take. And when she did the bloodriders let go of her brother, who promptly collapsed in a heap on the ground, panting and moaning in agony. "Do not make me repeat this lesson, brother." Dany said, doing all she could to hide the pain she truly felt at seeing her brother in such pain.
"You see the strength of my Khaleesi!" Drogo proclaimed loudly, holding the bloodied belt high so that all could see it. "That is the strength of the Dragon Lords of Old! And now she carries my child! A child of the Dragon Lords sired by the Dothraki! The Stallion Who Mounts the World!"
All around them, the Dothraki began hollering and whooping in elation. And Dany let herself be enveloped by their joy, using it to push aside what she'd just done to her own brother. Feeling Drogo's strong-arm fall across her shoulders, Dany allowed herself the slightest of smiles as Drogo turned her away from her still moaning brother and back towards her tent for a more…private celebration. Though she was sure that their celebration would not exactly be private as many amongst those present had already begun their celebrations in clear view of everyone.
Yet despite the elation through the crowd, there was one who was not joining in the celebrations. One who was frowning as they realized that Daenerys Targaryen was with child and knowing what they had to do now and knowing what would more than likely happen once their news reached certain ears. But despite his misgivings, Ser Jorah Mormont knew that he had no choice in the matter. This was his only way home. So, hardening his heart, Jorah turned his back on the celebrations and went looking for some ink and parchment so that he could send this news back to Westeros and the Iron Throne.
Leaning back in his seat, Nox idly floated a small sphere of stone back and forth through the air as he organized his thoughts on the onslaught of findings and events that'd seemingly come upon him faster than a blizzard on Hoth. Jon was now betrothed to Arianne Martell, which was good. A further tie between the North and Dorne for when the darkness came. And perhaps even more should his vision prove true. Then Robb's wedding to Talisa, and while it had been a typical northern marriage, it was far more significant than most perhaps realized. Now, through Talisa, they had a tie into Essos. A tie right into a large and well-trained fighting force whose leader had an instinctual want to keep his daughter safe from any potential threat. And while they hadn't revealed the full nature of the threat coming from the North to the Triarch, Nox had no doubt the man would mobilize every man under his command once the White Walkers came knocking on the Wall.
Then there was also the news from the Dreadfort. Val had managed to settle her people well into the mostly abandoned holdfast. And while there were a few disputes, sometimes bloody, between the Norfolk and the established Northerners, it was nothing that she couldn't handle. But the bit of news that Nox was far more interested in was the fact that Karsi had given birth to a child. A child born of her brief fling with one Garlan Tyrell. This was not something he had thought might happen, but he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth, as it were. The child was another bridge between the North and the Reach, beyond Sansa's betrothal to Willas. And the more ties there were between the North and the other regions of Westeros, the better for when the time came.
Yet despite the ties being formed, Nox still felt ill at ease. He could feel the darkness gathering, and not just the darkness north of the Wall. There was a darkness brewing in Westeros as well. War was coming. Despite the ties being cultivated between the individual regions, war was on the horizon. Yet despite feeling it in his very bones, he could not even begin to guess when the war would occur or even what would trigger it. All he knew was that it was coming, and much of his careful planning over the years would mean little more than bantha shit once it came.
And then as if thoughts of the ties being cultivated and the impending conflicts weren't enough, they'd also recently received two missives from King's Landing. The first had been from Robert, and it was a notice that was being sent throughout all the Seven Kingdoms. It was a notice of a grand tourney that was to be held at Harrenhal within the year. A tourney to celebrate three-hundred years of Westeros unification under the Iron Throne. And it was made very clear in the letter that at the very least a representative in the form of the Lord, Lady, or heir was expected to attend the several weeklong celebrations.
The second letter had been one that was for Nox's eyes only. A letter from the new Grand Maester, Jeorge, on behalf of the King. The king had contracted what the Maester described as 'sickness of the lungs', which honestly could've been one of a hundred different aliments that Nox could think of just off the top of his head. But after reading through the symptoms, he knew exactly what was plaguing the King. Tuberculosis. A difficult to cure disease even within the Empire and the Republic. And a sure death sentence here on this primitive world with little in terms of medical advancement. The Grand Maester was seeking any advice he could give in the curing of the sickness, but honestly at best, even using a combination of the Force and what meager medicine he'd managed to scrape together, Nox would only be able to slow the spread slightly, giving the King maybe a year more of life at that. There was a chance that Sansa could perform the healing, as she had shown a far greater aptitude for the art than he ever had. But that chance was slim to nonexistent. Healing physical injuries through the Force was one thing. Healing diseases or even a common sickness was quite another. And without proper training in the art, training that Nox could admit he was struggling to give the girl, it was far more likely that she would do more harm than good should she make the attempt.
"Still brooding, my love?"
It was a testament to just how distracted Nox was that he hadn't even registered Nyra's presence until she was almost right on top of him. And it was a further testament to how much he'd changed that he hadn't immediately lashed out on instinct at her pseudo-ambush of him. "Aye," he nodded as he watched through his sightless eyes as his wife made her way behind him and placed her hands on his shoulders before she started applying light pressure to his shoulders and back.
Moving slightly so that she would have a better angle, Nox let himself relax slightly as his wife's hands worked their way across his back. "You're getting very good at this," Nox muttered as he felt his back relax under her touch. "Have you been making your way to Winter Town without my knowledge and picking up a few skills from some of our newer arrivals?"
The freed slaves from Essos had indeed been a boon to the North. So many skilled laborers that were eager to make their way in their new lives had begun spreading what they knew. Builders. Artisans. And even whores. Though it was the whores that'd surprised many. The former pleasure slaves were versed in more than simply having sex. They were trained to give pleasure through multiple avenues. One of which, that Nox truly appreciated and knew was catching on fast, was the art of massaging. In fact, non-sexual acts from the former pleasure slaves and whores had become so sought after that the brothel in Winter Town and White Harbor had had to divide their workers in half. Half continued their normal whoring, while the other half offered non-sexual services.
"That is for me to know and for you to ponder, Alim," Nyra replied teasingly, pressing down on a particularly sore spot on his back and taking a moment to try and work it out.
Smirking, Nox used the Force just enough to knock his wife off balance. Catching her in his arms before she could fall, he twisted and pulled her into his lap. "You should know better than to tease a Sith," he said, tightening his arms around her and enjoying the feel of her bottom resting against his lap, especially when she shifted and pressed herself against him.
"Hmm, but I find I do so enjoy teasing you, Alim," Nyra smirked, a feeling he knew all too well seeping off of her through the Force, "and I do so enjoy these consequences you speak of. Perhaps you can…demonstrate them to me again. At length."
Just as Nox was about to give his wife another proper demonstration, he paused as he felt a familiar presence on the outskirts of his attention enter his tower. "Of course he would interrupt now," he all but growled, drawing a look from Nyra. "Ned just walked into the base of the tower and his making his way up."
Nyra made to stand, but Nox merely tightened his hold on her and brought her right back down onto his lap. Nyra went red, but didn't try to move again. Not even as the Warden of the North knocked on the door to his solar a few minutes later. "The door's open, Ned," Nox called out, having been tracing small circles on Nyra's hip and making her face, and other parts of her body, heat up.
Ned came into the room, and immediately stopped just inside the doorway as he obviously saw the position that Nox and Nyra were in. "If this is a bad time, we can discuss things later," Ned said, quite tellingly trying to directly avoid the scene before him.
Nyra managed to slip free from his grasp and get to her feet, smoothing out her dress as she did so. "Forgive my husband, Lord Stark. He lacks proper etiquette at times. I will leave you to discuss what you need to with my husband, my lord." Bowing her way past Stark, his wife quickly made her way out of his office, sending him a sensation of promise through the Force as she reached the door. Despite her affinity with the Force being limited at best, his wife had learned quite quickly how to communicate with him without even having to say a word. And with that sensation resting in the back of his mind, and other parts of his person, he wanted this meeting with Stark to be over with quickly.
"Well," Nox said, summoning over the decanter of liquor and two cups from across the room and setting each of them up with one. "Seeing as how my afternoon is suddenly free, what can I do for you, my friend?"
Ned made his way towards him, taking the empty seat and downing half of his glass of liquor in a single gulp before idly turning the cup in his hands. "The King's Grand Tourney at Harrenhal."
"Ah," Nox nodded, leaning back. "I take it that the ghosts of the past are making you uneasy about returning to that place."
"Aye," Ned nodded, downing the last of his drink and holding it out for another. "Sansa is delighted with the prospect of heading south. And the others are interested as well, though Robb is…understandably distracted with Talisa now and enjoying his time as a newly married man. I would let them all go and stay behind as the Stark in Winterfell. But I know Robert, he will not take to my absence well."
"No, I doubt he would," Nox added. And considering what he knew of the man's condition, Robert was more than likely hoping to use this tournament as a last chance to see his oldest friend and brother in all but blood. "And while I know you don't care for these types of events; they are important for a number of reasons."
"I know that," Ned sighed, holding his cup out for another splash of the liquor. "House Stark must make an appearance…along with yourself and Nyra as Lord and Lady Nox. And I would not wish to deprive my children the chance to see more of Westeros. Yet there must always be a Stark in Winterfell."
"Then the choice is obvious," Nox shrugged. "Jon. He's a Stark, in blood and through legitimization. Those in the North respect him enough to listen to him. And you know his character. Despite what others might think, he would never seek his brother's future seat. Besides, you've given him a far…warmer prospect for his future. And I doubt that Jon, knowing what he knows now, would truly want to spend time with some of those who will be in attendance."
Ned didn't drink his second cup, preferring instead to stare down at the contents in contemplation. "Your thoughts are my own. Yet, I still fear upsetting Jon with the decision."
"No, you don't, Ned." Nox sighed, setting his cup aside. "You know as well as I that he will agree to it the moment you ask it of him. And he won't feel even the slightest bit of disappointment in not being able to go with you all. Well, perhaps a slight bit, but only because he will be separated from those he loves for a time. But who will stay and who will go to this tournament is not what you came to speak to me about, is it?"
"No." Ned replied simply, taking a breath, and downing his second cup in a single pull. "This morning, I…felt a disturbance. It was…not unlike the one I felt years ago when the Iron Born first began their rebellion. But at the same time, it was almost…as if it were a warning. Not of something that happened, but rather something that is about to happen."
"Because the game, the true game, not the one played for that gaudy and uncomfortable throne in the south, is about to begin," Nox stated, which drew a curious look from Ned prompting him to explain further. "Do you believe that we have been playing the game this entire time, Ned? No. All we have been doing over the years with the training, voyaging, and creating bonds were all mere precursors. We've been creating the pieces that will be playing and setting the board. And now, you're sensing that the game is about to begin in earnest. But don't be mistaken. We and the White Walkers are not the only players sitting at this table."
Sighing, Ned buried his head in his hands for a moment to gather his thoughts. "Then we need every advantage we can get. Have you managed to translate the writing in my ancestor's tomb?"
"A fair amount of it," Nox nodded. "I still have not been able to decipher just why your ancestor came to this world from the greater galaxy. Nor do I know what exactly it is that he was trying to build in his last years. But I believe it is something that he brought with him from the greater galaxy, or at least the idea of it anyway. However, despite not knowing what it is he was trying to create, or perhaps recreate, I have learned of where this 'final creation' of his is located."
Ned immediately perked up at that. "Where is it?"
Smirking, Nox picked up his cup and leaned back in his seat. "The Force works in mysterious ways, Ned. We just learned that the King is planning on hosting the largest tournament in the history of the Seven Kingdoms at Harrenhal. And Bran the Builder's last creation is located on the Isle of Faces in the middle of the God's Eye."