Freedom
Rickard Stark, the Lords Solar, Winterfell
Rickard sighed as he went over what his son was telling him, “Ned, there is no way that I will allow that man into my home. Not after what he tried to do.”
“Until we can actively challenge him, we must pretend that nothing is wrong. You know this, father.”
He did, by the gods he did. It was simple politics after all, but, in his old age, he had grown to care less and less. And for gods sake, one of his grandchildren and her children were nearly killed, honor demanded that he responded! Of course he was no longer the Lord of the very castle they were in, but Ned sought his council and tolerated his presence. The least he could do was listen.
“Fine, but keep the Alcohol away from Jon and Markus. They'll kill the entire family before we could stop them if they were deep in their cups.”
His son grimaced, “I'll let the servants know.”
“Blasted Thenns,” Rickard muttered angrily. “Who was it that gave them their home when the land they came from was destroyed by the White Walkers? Who was it that took them in and gave them protection?! Its as if the fuckers forgot about what I did to those who tried to usurp your place!”
Ned grimaced again, “If what Jarl said is true, Styr Thenn did this because you stepped down and because Jon and Markus were in the South.”
“Idiot!” Rickard scoffed. “All three of them are powerful, not just the boys! Just because Markus could burn an entire field with the snap of his fingers, and Jon can fly as fast as a falling star and control the wind, doesn't mean that Visenya is weak! She shows her strength and restraint by not marching North and leveling the Shadow Tower on top of Styr's head!”
He didn't care about what people thought of him after he stepped down, he was in his bloody sixties for gods sake, it was time for Ned to take control, he had learned enough from him. But this was one step too far.
“I know you are angry father, I am too,” Ned said quietly. The only proof of his anger was the small bit of rage in his eyes. “But we must pretend that nothing is wrong lest we start a civil war amongst the North.”
And that wouldn't do, Rickard sighed, “Fine.” He grumbled again. “Hopefully Visenya can convince the boys to tone down their reactions. If not them, their wives and lovers should set them right. Maybe I'll get more great grandchildren to spoil considering how virile-”
“Father, please!” Ned said in exasperation, cutting him off.
“Don't pretend that you weren't thinking it,” Rickard shot back with a roll of his eyes. “I'm just saying that we shouldn't be surprised if more children were made. Unless you think they are reading novels and scrolls at night to warm their beds?”
Missendei of Naath, her quarters in the Stone Dragon
Her small clothes were pulled down to her feet and she stepped out of them. A light kiss to her left cheek was the signal for her to get into position. Missendei crawled onto her bed and raised her hips up invitingly. She groaned when she felt her lover bottom out in her sex. She gasped when he pulled back and started rutting into her.
“Gods I've missed this,” Obara groaned from her left. Missendei turned and saw her other lover tweaking one of her nipples and fingering her sex.
Missendei crawled towards her, whimpering when her lovers cock slipped out of her but she latched onto Obara's nipple, getting an eyeful of the tattoo that was on her breast. This was not an unfamiliar position for her and it became more familiar when Markus slipped back into her.
He groaned when her walls clamped around him, “Fuck.” He gripped her hips tightly, by not so tight as to leave a bruise.
“We were gone too long it seems,” Obara murmured, running her fingers through Missendei's hair lovingly. “She's overly eager.” She pulled her up and gave her a quick kiss.
Not just eager, Missendei thought, while Obara gently pushed her head down her body. She licked and nipped at her lovers tender flesh before reaching her destination. As she slowly licked at the slit between Obara's legs, taking pride in making her moan and enjoying the taste of her, she thought back to just how this came to be.
Mainly because it kept her mind elsewhere so she could last longer. It had been celebratory for the most part, they were the victors in the war and there was a feast in their honor. As they drank and put the children to bed, hands had drifted under her dress and she lost the dress when they both got tired of playing. She got to admire the bodies she had missed all this time taking in the new scars and tattoos that they got after each battle.
She enjoyed every last bit of her inspections. But come tomorrow, it would be a day of serious discussion and arguments. For now, however, she would revel in the taste of Obara and the strength of Markus' hips.
Ser Markus Ryden, the Great Hall of the Stone Dragon
Markus knew something was wrong. Missendei was hiding something as she fed their son, and so were Visenya and her husband as they tended to their children. Even Daenerys, sweet Dany as he used to call her when he first met her, seemed uncomfortable about something.
Her husband was a silent as the grave, which was unlike him. True, he was quiet, but not silent. There was an ominous silence attached to Edmund as he was making himself known to them when he would usually just fade into the background.
Something was definitely wrong.
He chewed his bacon and made sure that his older children didn't play with their porridge while Obara fed their youngest. He caught Jon's glance and he seemed suspicious as well.
“We'll talk after we eat,” Visenya spoke to them in the Old Tongue. “And not a moment before and not in front of the children.”
He shared another glance with Jon before he turned back and gave his cousin a nod. This was her home, even if he didn't respect her -which he did- he would at least honor her in her own home.
He continued to chew his food and talk with the children who were none the wiser to the tension that existed.
The Dragon's Solar
Visenya's solar hadn't changed much, her Banner hung above her hearth, just above the mantle place. The first sword she ever learned how to use was mounted there. The thing had so many notches and scrapes, it was bent sideways from all the times she hit something with it. She loved it, cherished it even, from the moment their grandfather gave it to her after she finished her basic training, to when Master Aemon had given her the Valyrian steel sword, Truth.
She left it there as a reminder, she said, for her children and for her, so they would know where she came from.
“So what is this about cousin?” Markus asked. “Why is everyone so quiet?”
Visenya sighed, “There was an attempt,” She began slowly, watching him and Jon. “On my life and that of my children.”
Markus blinked and the fire in the hearth grew bright before it subsided. Air swirled around the room in a strong gust of wind, sending loose items about before the wind stopped.
“Who,” Markus growled out, eyes alight with fire. Jon didn't look much better, neither did their wives.
“Swear to me, on your children and Direwolves, that you will not attack the person mentioned as being the mastermind.” Visenya said back, staring at all four of them. “Swear to me.” She demanded.
“On the lives of my children, and my Direwolf,” Markus began after a moment of cold silence. “I will not attack the person you mention as being the mastermind of a plot against you.” He had to say the whole thing, no matter how much he didn't want to. Visenya would not accept anything less than that.
Jon and the others swore their oaths as well and they all waited impatiently.
“Lord Styr Thenn ordered the attempt and it was carried out by one of the villagers that live near the Shadow Tower.” She murmured. Markus slid his gaze towards Sigorn in that moment before he turned back to his cousin.
“How did he get in?” Didn't you vet him? He wanted to say but accusations would not go over well and he needed all the facts before he started pointing fingers.
“He had been here for months prior,” Visenya admitted. “He had joined a fishing crew from Bear Island that got swept all the way down here in that Storm we had what was it, seven moons ago?” She asked her husband.
“Just about, and two months later you had Osric.” Sigorn said quietly.
“He stayed on that entire time?” Jon asked incredulously. “And neither of you thought that was odd?”
“He said that he had no home to go to, and the crew was to come here and aid us in building our fishing community and port so we did not think it suspicious when he stayed on.” Visenya said calmly.
“I had recognized him from my childhood,” Sigorn admitted. “But he gave no indication that he remembered me, which was odd but enough time had passed that maybe he did truly forget. I had him watched all the same just in case with Visenya's permission.”
And they went onto say that nothing had happened for a while, and they thought he was a good man. Then certain ingredients from the Maester's stores had gone missing from time to time, ingredients to make poison. He had poisoned some of their food supplies in the hopes of killing them all but he had got caught running away by the guards who were not gentle to say the least.
“He even tried to poison Smoke Ring.” Visenya huffed, rolling her eyes. Markus did as well. As rare as they were, it was pretty common knowledge that Stone Dragons could not be poisoned. They could drown, freeze from the intense cold and even starve, but poison and fire did nothing against it.
“Jarl is dead, I executed him myself.” Visenya added after a moment. “Lord Styr is not to be touched until after Sansa's wedding.”
“I don't like it either,” Edmund spoke up when Markus frowned. “I don't want him anywhere near the family, Sansa especially, but we have to keep this quiet for now.”
“I suppose its a good thing that Arya and Quentyn went to the Greystag then,” Jon muttered, looking thoughtful. “We wouldn't have been able to stop her from going.”
She was sneaky and too quick for that, Markus thought with a grimace, thinking back to the first day that Arya had used her gift. She was about six and had ran nearly halfway to Castle Cerwyn before she stopped running due to exhaustion. The Children had found her and brought her home and offered to train her as they had all the other gifted Northerners.
Yes, it was a good thing that Arya did not know about this. She'd already be on her way to the Shadow Tower, oaths be damned.
“We won't touch the old man,” Markus pronounced . “Not until after the wedding at least. Or until your father says we can.” He added to Edmund's benefit. Edmund just nodded his head in response. “I must admit, the old man has balls to try this. Being so far North should have frozen them off by now.”
That startled a laugh out of Jon and Aurane. The others joined in quietly which helped break whatever tension remained. Markus gave his cousin a wink when she gave him a grateful look. She more than likely expected him to go crazy at this revelation. And he nearly did, but he had a family of his own to think of now, he couldn't just go off half cocked and not expect to come out unscathed.
Life didn't work that way, and he wasn't going to tempt fate.
Unknown, The shores of Hardhome
The scavenger whimpered under his hold, “Mercy.” The pitiful man begged. He snapped his neck to silence his cries. He swiped his hand and the skin on the body faded away and he threw the body into the ever growing pile that he started to build. He did this several times before he stood in front of one last scavenger, and admired his body.
“This will do nicely,” He hissed, running a clawed and bony finger along the torso. The scavenger spat at him and he laughed before gripping him by the neck.
“As my time in this body ends, the time in yours will begin,” He whispered lifting the man up. He opened his mouth as wide as he could and felt his soul and the souls he drained over time leave his body and shoot towards the man he held in a brilliant green light.
The scavenger screamed and the parasitic warg took the opportunity to enter his mouth like a rushing river. The body of the warg disintegrated into dust and the scavenger's body floated in the air, arms outstretched and feet together. The scavengers soul screamed in agony as it was added to the thrall of the warg and the warg took over his body. The large blue eyes of the scavenger glazed over until they were milky white and then green. A cruel smile flitted onto his face and a mad cackle tore itself from his lips as he reveled in the newest and freshest body that he had in over two thousand years.
He landed on the ground and sliced up the pile of bodies with several movements of his hands. The blood drained from them and filled up the grooves in the ground. The runes and seals he had made in the spot near the shore line had to be re-carved as time went on but it was worth it. He finally had some outsider blood that was not affected by the prison runes that his fellow criminals had been branded with.
First Men Blood would have been preferable though you could argue that since the First Men came from the East, these eastern scavengers were perfectly acceptable for the ritual. He moved his hands in airy motions, muttering under his breath in the Old Tongue, and shot several souls into bloody foundation whilst walking around the circle he carved.
With a heavy breath, he held his hands towards the sky, creating a large green ball of souls that grew bigger and bigger with each passing second. Finally, with a roar, he slammed the ball into the ground. The energy crackled across the earth, shooting its way towards the shore line like a lightning bolt. It hit an invisible barrier before destroying it in a shower of magical shards.
The warg roared in triumph, it was finally free.
South of the Wall, an old Child of the Forrest gasped awake from its slumber and stared at his companions in horror, the old defenses had been breached. Their brother had escaped his prison.