Chapter 23: The divided Pack
"Cregan, calm yourself, the target ain't gonna run away, take your time before you shoot."
Cregan Stark, the six-year-old heir to Winterfell, stomped his foot on the ground before nocking another arrow. The woman ten years his senior knelt to position his elbows herself.
"Do not be hasty, brother, or your progress will be slow. Relax your arms, clear your mind and look at the spot you wish to aim for. Let your self-confidence speak for you, once you're ready, take the shot."
He did as he was told, managed to hit the target missed the bullseye. His instructor was more satisfied than he was.
"That was far better." She praised. "But I can tell something is on your mind, little brother. What is it?"
Cregan did not answer right away, he simply nocked another arrow and took another shot. His arrow bounced against Winterfell's wall.
"Cregan…"
"I just want Arthur to come back." The boy whined as he picked another arrow. "Or I should be the one joining him! He cannot fight the southerners alone forever."
When news of Arthur's appointment as Hand of the King had reached Winterfell, Cregan had cheered like his cousin had won a great battle. His father, Rickon Stark, had been baffled. Surviving North of the Wall was one thing, but beating Southerners at their own game in King's Landing… No one had never expected this of Arthur, no matter how talented and… special he was. No one except Sara Snow.
Rickon Stark's bastard daughter had always known her cousin was made of sturdier metal than the rest of their family. An army of knights would never be able to submit him, only women could bend and break him… Which was why she considered the Princess Rhaenyra to be a greater enemy than any damn southern Lords who'd be foolish enough to stand in Arthur's way. The rumors she had heard about those two were only confirming her suspicions and her wariness regarding the Valyrian girl's intentions.
She disagreed with her little brother, it was not him that should have followed Arthur south, it should have been her. Only her could shield him from women.
"You need to trust him a little more, little brother." She said as she patted his curly head. "It's gonna take more than Dornish cunts and southern bitches to stop Arthur."
Cregan giggled at his sister's foul tongue, knowing full well their father would have made her clean the stables for half a year had he heard her.
However, the six-year-old boy lost his smile as Sara was hearing footsteps in her back.
She turned to discover her uncle Bennard, Arthur's father.
"Lord Stark as called for a family meeting, you two are to join us."
"Even Sara?" Cregan asked, genuinely surprised.
Sara could not blame him for those words, for she shared his feeling, she was a Snow, not a Stark, and as such, had never participated in a family meeting.
"Did I stutter?" Lord Bennard growled at his nephew. "Your father has received urgent news from the South. We need to prepare accordingly to make sure your cousin's efforts in King's landing don't go to waste."
Sara had always hated her uncle, as much as he despised her for being a bastard. Yet, never in her life had Bennard asked his brother to send her away due to her bastardy. Sara had never known why, but suspected it had something to do with Arthur, or more accurately, with Bennard's first wife.
Arthur's mother was Winterfell's most guarded secret as far as Sara could tell, for years she had thought that Margaret Stark, her aunt, had been Arthur's mother as she was his brother's. But the dispute she had caught between her father and her uncle had sung a different song.
"You have dishonored your wife, and your house by marrying this creature before our Gods years ago. Your wife's miscarriage is the price they have made you pay for your sins. The fact that Margaret never realized that her child has been replaced is tearing my heart, yet it can only be the will of the Old Gods that a price of blood needed to be paid. Since the child is no bastard, I've allowed you to raise it under my roof. But I warn you, Bennard, should that infant display any evil sorcery within my walls, I will have him sent to the Wall and be done with him."
It had taken Sara a year to figure out that they had been talking about Arthur. The gossips of handmaidens regarding Margaret's first labor and the fact that they had all believed the child to be dead had indicated her that her aunt had indeed lose her first child, and that that child had been replaced by Arthur. That Bennard had dishonored the Gods had not surprised her, what had surprised her, was for her father to refer to Arthur's actual mother as a 'creature'.
Was it a wilding? It certainly fitted her father's opinion regarding the savages North of the Wall, the problem was that her uncle shared this opinion.
Sara buried her questions in the back of her head, she had no time to keep wondering what she had been wondering for more than two years already. She simply nodded, took Cregan's hand and led him inside the castle.
"Wait!" Her brother suddenly screamed as he freed himself from her grasp to run for the kennels.
Sara rolled her eyes in amusement when she saw him come back with his enormous brown direwolf by his side.
"Are you sure Father will allow Giant to be at a family meeting?"
"He has always allowed Shadow to be with Arthur!" Cregan always got angry when he needed to defend himself and his best friend. "And Giant is family!"
The direwolf rub its nose against the young woman's cheek to prove its best friend's point, earning a chuckle and a pat on the head from Sara.
Rickon Stark's solar was too small to contain all their pack, which was why the Lord of Winterfell was waiting for his kin in the main hall. When Sara and Cregan entered, Lord Bennard and his sons were already sitting around a large table and sent the bastard girl despiteful glares which she chose to ignore. Sara then noticed that the two seats on her father's right were empty, she waited until Cregan was sitting on the one closer to the Warden of the North's and sat right next to her brother.
Rickon took a deep breath, the frown of his grey eyebrows indicated how displease he was. He threw a piece of parchment on the table and spoke:
"I have received a message from the Prince of Dorne, the content of his letter is as disturbing as it is concerning."
Since no one moved to grab the letter, and read it aloud:
"To the Lord of Winterfell, Rickon Stark. Your nephew Arthur Stark has murdered a Prince of Dorne, we will not forget, nor will we forgive such a crime. We want blood, we demand your nephew's head to be delivered to us or we will declare war upon the North and collect as much blood as we can to satisfy our thirst for justice. We would be satisfied if your murderous nephew were to surrender himself to Dorne's justice. This is the one and only warning you will receive, Lord Stark, Dorne's justice will be delivered, with or without your consent. Should you fail to meet our demands, we will find enough wolf's blood inside your own keep to quench our thirst for a time. You have the choice to decide how to repay your debt, Lord Stark, but we will not trade the wolfskin we desire for less than five wolfskins of minor importance.
You have less time than you think, choose quickly, my lord, or we will choose for you. Signed: Prince Qoren Nymerios Martell, Prince of Dorne and ruler of the Rhoynars."
Sara rose her eyes from the piece of parchment and realized that for the first time in her life, the Starks were all in agreement.
"This is outrageous!" Benjen boomed.
"Who the fuck do those dornish bastards think they are?!" Brandon yelled. "Threatening us in our own home because their cunt of a Prince got himself killed by Arthur!"
"Cowards, the lot of them." Elric laughed. "Arthur's victory proved that they can't beat us, so they demand we do their dirty work because they're too afraid to fight our brother, I say let them come! I thirst for war…!"
That had been the wrong thing to say as Rickon slammed his fist against the table.
"Quiet, the lot of you!" The Lord of Winterfell commanded with a roar stronger than a giant's. "What do you green boys know about war?! What do you know about the Dornish?! Nothing, so you will keep your mouths shut and listen to what your lord has to say."
Sara struggled not to smile; she had always enjoyed seeing her cousins being put back at their place.
"Brother." Bennard spoke, his voice was calm, but his face was angry. "What shall we do about this ridiculous demand? We cannot betray our kin, especially now that Arthur is Hand of the King. He is protected, and we will have the support of numerous southern Lords should they dare to attack us. War will not be in the Dornish's advantage. Should we call the banners?"
Rickon dismissed this question with the back of his hand.
"Something is not right. When news of Arthur's victory over Prince Qyle reached me, I immediately sent a raven to Sunspear to present my condolences to Prince Qoren."
The Lord of Winterfell pulled out another piece of parchment from his cloak and gave it to his daughter.
Sara, though surprised that her father had tasked her to read a message from the ruler of Dorne, unrolled it and did as was expected of her.
"To the Lord of Winterfell, Rickon Stark. I thank you for your condolences and for sharing your pain of losing a son…"
She rose her eyes from the scroll, years ago, her father's first wife had died in child labor after giving birth to a stillborn son. Lord Rickon had probably shared this story with Prince Qoren to appease him and show some sensibility regarding the loss of his son. Rickon motioned for her daughter to continue.
"… Know this, I know my son acted foolishly and it was his foolishness that caused his death. I will not declare war upon your kingdom, nor will I seek retribution for what has happened to my son. However, neither I nor Dorne will ever forget what has happened in Storm's End. You would be wise to inform your nephew of this fact…"
Sara paused and frowned, this message was the exact opposite of the one she had read a few minutes ago, and that was not the only strange thing about those letters.
"This is not the same handwriting." She declared as she picked the most recent message to compare them. "This one looks like it has been written by…"
She looked at her father.
"Does Prince Qoren have daughters?"
Rickon nodded.
"Yes, three. This was probably written by one of them. I intend to send a message back to Prince Qoren to inform him of this threat. I gathered you all in order to warn you, this letter is not to be taken lightly. War may not be at our door, but we are not safe from assassins. Until I receive Prince Qoren's response, and until he has made sure that no further foolish choices will be made, I advise you all to be extremely careful from now on."
Brandon opened his mouth, but it was his father who spoke:
"We must inform Arthur of this threat, as Hand of the King, he might be able to…"
"No." Rickon shook his head. "Arthur's interference would only stir up the tensions between our Kingdoms. Dorne is not under the rule of the Iron Throne, should Arthur or the King interfere, war would break loose, and we would remain under the threat of assassinations for the rest of our lives. This matter must be solved quickly between us. Arthur started this even though it was not his wish, he will deal with the Dornish Princesses if they keep seeking revenge for their dead brother, but we will take no part in this feud."
Rickon took a deep breath, and dismissed his family.
"Go now, and be extremely careful, I have doubled the guards until we are certain that this threat has been neutralized." They all got up. "Not you Sara."
The bastard girl's eyes widened in surprise, she sat back and smiled at her brother to reassure him. Cregan looked a bit unsure, but his father's stern gaze pushed him out of the hall, leaving only the Lord of Winterfell and his bastard daughter. Even the servants had given them the privacy their lord had required.
"You will sleep in Cregan's room until this threat has been dealt with." This was a command not a request.
Sara dutifully nodded.
"If I may, I believe Giant should sleep with his master instead of the kennels from now on."
Rickon smiled.
"You're a fool if you believe your brother is his beast's master." He paused for a second. "You are right, I'll instruct the kennel master to let the wolf wander around, but Cregan better take very good care of it."
"I'll make sure he does." She smiled. "Are you alright, Father?"
Rickon Stark sighed deeply.
"No, my child, I am not… I regret sending Arthur South."
Sara wisely kept her mouth shut, but her father knew her all too well.
"You want to berate me? Go on, berate me all you want."
"Why did you send him South?" She asked instead, for she had been wanting to ask this of her father for a year now.
"Because I fear him."
Sara Snow lost her tongue, any wits she had in mind had vaporized the moment her father had admitted his fear.
Rickon smiled sadly at his daughter, who could almost see his shame on his face.
"Does it have something to do with Arthur's… sorcery?"
Her father's eyes instantly widened at her words. He quickly turned his head to make sure they were alone, then he gazed at Sara with an angry glare.
"How could you possibly know anything about that?"
Sara gulped; it was too late to take her words back.
"I… I heard Uncle Bennard and you argue about it…"
This confession did nothing to appease the Lord's mind, if anything he looked even angrier than before.
"We will discuss this in my solar." He said as he got up. "Now."
Sara obediently followed her father, though she now knew that she had not only earned his ire, but was also about to discover the truth about her cousin, and this terrified her as much as it picked her curiosity.
Once the solar's door had been closed, Rickon did not bother to sit at his Ironwood desk. He simply glared at his daughter who felt extremely small under her father's presence.
"Had times not been so hard, I would have severely punished you for spying on me, Sara, I am your Lord, what you did was an act of treason. I would have taken your head had you not been my blood. Do you understand?"
His voice was as cold as the Wall, and it sent shivers down the bastard girl's spine. She weakly nodded.
Rickon sighed longly, a way for him to calm his nerves. When that did not work, he poured himself a horn of ale and another for his daughter who took it. He downed it and sighed once again to let the liquid ease his mind. Sara did not touch hers.
"Tell me, Sara; what do you know of Arthur's mother?"
He was speaking calmly now, though the tension was still in the air.
"Lady Margaret was not his mother… was she?"
Rickon shook his head and poured himself another horn of ale.
"The truth is, my child, that your uncle is an idiot. A fucking idiot. An idiot who's always desired more than what he had inherited. And someone… something, took advantage of that."
Sara frowned.
"What do you mean, something? Arthur is not some kind of half-breed beast…"
Her father's sadful look paralyzed her tongue.
"All right, out with it, this is insane, Arthur is not a monster, or an Other."
"Arthur is a Stark, he is my blood… but his mother…"
Rickon downed another horn.
"I don't know what she was but… She was not natural this I know."
Sara remained silent, her father looked… afraid. She had never, ever seen the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North afraid.
"I only saw her once." Rickon's eyes were empty, he held a dark expression on his face as he was remembering a fateful moment. "The day your aunt gave birth for the very first time, the boy ended up being stillborn, but that… that witch. I don't know how she did it, but she appeared out of thin air… Right here, in my damn solar of all places. With a babe in her arms… She claimed her son was Bennard's true first born, that its name was Arthur Stark, and that only death could pay for life. She deposed Arthur on the floor before I could even rise from my seat, and then she vanished. I never found her, nor did I ever see her again."
Rickon looked at the window, the sun was about to set, its last rays were deepening the Lord of Winterfell's wrinkles and paling his skin. Or perhaps was it this woman's memory. Sara could not know.
"When I confronted Bennard about this child, your aunt had passed out, her babe had been stillborn, and only the master had witnessed our conversation. Bennard confessed everything, how he had fallen in love with this riverwoman, how he had married her in secret in front of a weirwood in the Wolf's wood and… he told me her name."
Rickon sighed once again.
"We buried the stillborn babe in the crypts in secret. Bennard had named him Theon, but Margaret never knew, she spent her entire life believing that Arthur was her flesh and blood. Poor woman…"
"Why didn't you…"
"Tell her?" Rickon shook his head. "An oath in front of the Old Gods is sacred, especially the oath of marriage, Arthur was a Stark by right, Margaret would have named him a bastard and revealed the truth behind his birth to her father. Lying made things easier for everyone. Especially for Arthur and Margaret. The only unknown parameter was the maester…"
"Maester Alim knew all this time?"
Rickon shook his head.
"It was a different Maester at the time, a man named Corbin… Just like many maesters, he hated magic with passion. So I knew he'd send a raven to the Citadel to announce the truth to his peers. I pushed him down the stairs to make sure he remained silent, he never got up and the matter was closed but… I have always feared Arthur… There is something about him… That he inherited from his mother… Something unnatural and… evil."
Sara could not believe her father, Arthur had always been the greater Stark. He never coveted Cregan's inheritance, had always treated Sara as a sister, and had spent a lot of time trying to teach his brothers manners, and when he'd fail, he'd protect Cregan and her. He had always obeyed his Lord, always respected his parents despite their disagreements, and had made friends all around the North.
Had it been a lie all this time? She refused to believe it, her oldest memories of her cousin dated twelve years ago. Arthur could have faked his whole life… But for someone to have such a secret… Did he even know?
Rickon shook his head.
"I should have never feared him, he is a good boy, he would have made a great Lord of Winterfell had Cregan not been born. And I should have never sent him South… I knew it was a nest of vipers, and I was foolish enough to believe he would find his place given his talents. I should have expected they would fear him, I should have expected he'd do far better in King's Landing than what any of us could have thought of. And now, by doing his duty as I have taught him to, he's made the whole continent wary of us. The North would have thrived better if the Southerners had kept ignoring us."
He looked at his daughter and smiled sadly once again.
"I thank you, daughter, telling you this has lifted a weight from my chest… I am sorry for burdening you with this…"
Sara did not answer, she simply enrapt her father in hug which he returned.
"Does Arthur know?"
"If he does, he did not learn it from me." Rickon sighed. "But he knows he is not like the rest of us… He has something that we haven't seen in our family for generations… But… His eyes… There is something in him, something darker. That he probably inherited from his mother."
Sara shivered at those words, she rose her head from her father's chest and saw that he was sweating. This woman, whoever she was or had been, had left a terrifying impression on the Lord of Winterfell.
"You told me Bennard had shared her name with you." She recalled. "What is her name?"
Rickon frowned, not because of his daughter's question, but because he suddenly felt ill, his throat started to tighten, perhaps the witch's memory was in itself, cursed. But Rickon refused to believe such superstitions. He was the Lord of Winterfell, not a southern maiden.
"Her name…" His throat was shocking him, as if invisible hands were pressing on his neck. Rickon shook his head to try to get rid of it, but the feeling only increased.
His eyes suddenly widened in alarm and he looked at his horn with a mix of terror and anger. His strength almost instantly left him as he stumbled backwards under his daughter confused look.
"Father?"
Rickon tried to support himself on his desk, but his legs betrayed him and he fell on the floor. He clawed at his throat to try to breath, to get rid of those invisible hands that were strangling him. Yet his efforts were in vain.
"Father!" Sara screamed as she realized what was happening. She threw herself at his side to try to understand what was going on and saw the veins on his neck darken under the light of sunset.
"Help!" She screamed. "My Father has been poisoned! Help!"
A guard barged inside the solar and saw his Lord on the ground clawing at his throat.
"Fetch the master! You fucking twat!"
The guard quickly nodded and rushed out of the solar, leaving Sara alone with her agonizing father.
She looked around the solar in panic, hoping to find something to help him. But there was nothing except those damn horns whose ale had spilled on the ground.
Sara grabbed one of the horns, pulled out her dagger and broke the pointy tip.
"Name…" Rickon weakly whispered. "Alys… Riv…"
Sara ignored him, breathing frantically, she looked at her father's throat and pierced and hole under his Adam's apple, she inserted her horn's broken tip, and gasped in relief when she heard Rickon's breath through the horn.
Rickon coughed but no air came out of his mouth, Sara held the horn in place with her shaking hands, praying to the Old Gods to spare her Father.
"By the Others! What has happened here!" Bennard roared at the doorstep before Maester Alim quickly ran past him.
The Maester kneeled next to his Lord, and grabbed the horn to maintain it in place.
"I will handle this, Sara, you can let go."
His reassuring tone was ineffective on Sara, she did as she was told and crawled backwards until the solar's wall supported her back, there, she held her knees close to her chest and wept.
"Gods." She begged. "Gods, please, have mercy him. Please!"
(-)(-)(-)
As he was sitting in the Royal Stand with Rhaenyra's worried gaze on him, Arthur recalled the message he had received before the melee had started. Arthur had known this would happen, he had known and chose not to act, he relied on a raven and was done with it. He had known, he had had the choice to leave and protect his pack. But he chose Rhaenyra and remained in this shit-stinking city. It was his fault; he caused this and overlooked the consequences.
And now, here he was, watching southerners play at war, suffering from the Princess's plots to escape her duties and to drag him and his country into chaos with her.
What madness had possessed him that convinced him to stay here?
He had been so absorbed by his inner turmoil that he had not realized that more than half of the melee's contenders had been eliminated. Ser Criston Cole was now fighting Lord Roderick Dustin, which immediately caught Arthur's attention.
The Lord of Barrowtown's armor was covered in scratches and dents, his shield was half destroyed but he was still fighting like a demon. Despite his age, the Northman was stronger than Cole and used it to his advantage, using his axe to split the Stormlander's shield again and again. Until he got too close. Ser Criston's Morningstar missed his face but its chain wrapped his axe's handle. The Kingsguard pulled and disarming the Northerner, who was then hit in the helmet by the edge of Cole's shield. Dustin tried to maintain his balance, but the Morningstar's hits came raining on his helmet. The Lord of Barrowtown fell backwards and did not got up.
Arthur tightened his fist. His mood was getting worse by the second.
"Arthur…" Rhaenyra whispered, leaning closer to try to help him.
But the Northman turned his head abruptly, and sent shivers down her spine with a hateful glare.
For that was what it was: a glare full of hatred.
Rhaenyra almost jumped back when she saw it. When she realized what it was, she felt her body crumble, her heart break, and tears forming in her eyes.
Perhaps seeing her in this state had had an effect on the Hand of the King, for Arthur lowered his eyelids to calm himself and looked back at the arena. Where Ser Criston had apparently decided to end things once and for all.
(-)(-)(-)
When Ser Criston had seen his Princess being terrified by the Stark's glare, he had realized with horror that he had less time than he had thought. As if possessed by the Warrior's spirit, the Kingsguard roared a warcry and ran towards his remaining opponents twirling his morningstar. Despite the wounds he had suffered during the melee and the weight of his armor, Ser Criston Cole unleashed his fury. He disarmed the first opponent he came across and tripped him to make him fall, obtained his surrender and moved forward. The second opponent had foolishly charged at him with his guard lowered, Ser Criston knocked him out with his morningstar and barely dodged a third one's sword before neutralizing him with a morningstar hit to the visor. Cole went on a rage, decimating his opponents as if they were flies on his coat, tainting his cloak with blood and dirt until he remained the last man standing in the middle of the arena. The crowd erupted in roars of cheers and applause, chanting his name as if he were Ser Joffrey Doggett or Ser Damon Morrigen.
"Cole! Cole! Cole!"
Ser Criston breathed a sigh of relief and rose his arms in victory, basking in glory like a septon under the light of the Seven. The cheers were so loud that he could have drown himself in it. But the image of his Princess's expression of sheer terror imposed itself in his mind and he quickly reopened his eyes to stare at the Royal Stand.
Despite his victory, Rhaenyra looked very uneasy, as if the simple presence of the Northman by her side prevented her from celebrating. And when Ser Criston looked at the Northerner, he understood his Princess's uneasiness.
Arthur Stark looked… evil. His face looked like stone, and his eyes… Cole had seen those beastly eyes before; in Storm's End's hall, where the Northman had brutally murdered the Prince of Dorne.
He could not stand it, he would not stand it. It was time for him to accomplish the mission his Princess had entrusted him with.
He saluted the crowd and walked towards the Royal Stand, officially, he was about to receive the King's congratulations and reward for his victory. Unofficially, he was preparing himself to face his last opponent.
(-)(-)(-)
Rhaenyra had been so worried about Arthur that it had taken the crowd's cheers to realize that Ser Criston had won the melee… She should have been rejoicing, for her plan was going accordingly… Yet, something was wrong with Arthur, and she could not understand what or why.
The glare he had sent her… He had never looked at her this way, he had looked at her unsurely, angrily, disappointedly, happily, lovingly, but never hatefully. What had happened for him to feel such violent emotions towards her of all people? What had she done? Why would he hate her when she wanted him to love her? How could things go so wrong?
Viserys, who had not noticed the silent tension between his daughter and his Hand, rose to congratulate the champion.
"Ser Criston, words alone would be an unfair reward for the first knight who has managed to win both the joust and the melee since Aegon's Conquest. It is my pride to have been the first witness of such an accomplishment and my relief to know that you are the one guarding my daughter's life and virtue. You have honored both the Kingsguard and the Royal Family, as such I shall grant you a favor worthy of your victory. Name it and it shall be yours!"
Silence fell on the arena as Ser Criston smiled, for a mad second he considered asking for the Princess's hand in marriage but held himself. He was a man of duty, he had taken oaths, he was meant to serve, not to rule.
He only had one purpose left, and as the squires, guards, smiths and servants were busy helping the fallen combatants out of the arena, Ser Criston's brown eyes gazed at Stark's beastly eyes.
"Thank you, Your Grace, for your generosity. As a one of your Kingsguards, I have no desire but to protect your family from those who wish to harm it. Which is why, I request to fight the Hand of the King here and now in this arena."
Once again, silence fell on the arena, plenty of confused whispers ran along the crowd as commonpeople and noble alike frowned in perplexity.
Viserys instantly lost his tongue, unsure of what to do or say, he threw a confused look at his daughter and realized with stupor that she was afraid.
He then looked at his Hand, hoping he would solve this embarrassing situation.
The latter laughed.
He laughed uproariously, again and again and again, for almost half a minute, the only thing that could be heard in the Dragonpit was the Northerner's mirth.
Lord Corlys and Lady Rhaenys looked as amused as they were fascinated by this unexpected turn of events. Laena worried for Rhaenyra, believing that these two men at her service were competing for her hand.
When Arthur finally calmed down, he struggled to remain serious as he wiped away his tears of laughter.
He almost, almost, mocked Rhaenyra publicly for her stupid plan. But shook his head to get rid of this idea.
"Gods…" He thought. "This is so stupid… That was her big plan? To have Ser Criston win everything and challenge me to give me the glory that poor fellow struggled so hard to obtain? Fuck… I expected Ser Criston to publicly challenge anyone who would put themselves forward as a contender for her hand. This is ridiculous… As if I would accept to take part in such a pitiful plot, as if people were blind enough not to realize her trick… Gods help me."
He stood, wearing a confident smirk, his eyes had turned back grey.
"Ser Criston, I appreciate your enthusiasm. However, you have been fighting for days, you must be exhausted, if I were to accept your challenge, our fight would not be a fair one. This tournament is in the honor of our Princess, the one we both serve, and I am not, nor will I ever be, a contender for her hand. Your duty does not command you to fight me."
Some lords among the stands smiled and nodded in satisfaction while the cries of disappointment erupted from the crowd of commonpeople. Rhaenyra's heart instantly broke, the nonchalance with which he had spoken these words had struck harder than a mace. Her entire world was crumbling, her plan failed and there was nothing she could do about it. Arthur… He was abandonning her and she did not understand why, what had she done?
Alicent Hightower lowered her head in understanding and sadness, this beautiful day had turned out to be a sad one for love, but she more than the others understood the Hand's sense of duty. She hoped Rhaenyra would be able to get over it.
The one who apparently refused to get over the Stark's refusal was Ser Criston Cole, who still believed he had a mission to accomplish.
Wordlessly, he walked towards the pole on which the Stark banner was flying. He smirked when when he saw the King's Hand eyes widen in shock and fury, then, he rose his morningstar and broke it with a single struck, sending the direwolf banner straigth to the dust.
Rhaenyra wanted to scream at her swornshield not to do it, but she realized what he had in mind too late and could only watch her plot spiralling out of her control.
"No!" She lamented inwardly. "Gods, no! This is not what I wanted! This was not supposed to go like this!"
Arthur looked at his banner with a stone face. As it had been falling, he had remembered his dying uncle, his cousins, Cregan and Sara who needed his help while he was here doing nothing. Something broke inside of him, unleashing a fury he had kept contained for years.
Scandalized by his Kingsguard's behavior, Viserys opened his mouth to reprimand Ser Criston, but his Hand roared like a vengeful beast:
"All right, you scum! You want a fight?! You got it!"
AN: Yep, Arthur is Alys Rivers' son. I've been waiting quite a long time to reveal that part :). But this is why he is such a powerful warg and why he has... strange abilities. I ain't saying more about her for now, just know that I can't wait to write about her.
Fun fact, my first idea was for Arthur's mother to be a child of the forest, but that would have made things more complicated than they were supposed to be. So I settled for Alys, I really like this character.
For those who are wondering why events are going this way. You guys need to understand that book Rhaenyra is selfish, arrogant and greedy. I wanted her to become more than that, but she needed to realize the errors of her way by making mistakes as costly as this one. Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, the next one is coming soon. The last one should be long ;).
Take care.
To read early:
Chapter 23: "The divided Pack"
Chapter 24: "Too far, too late"
Chapter 25: "The Ghosts of Guilt"
Chapter 26 : "How time and blood flow"
Chapter 27: "Those who rule over Winter"
Chapter 28: "Clinging to hope"
Chapter 29: "The Barn owl"
Chapter 30: "Legends"
Chapter 31: "The Starks of Winterfell"
Chapter 32: "Ice and Fire"
Chapter 33: "Rhaenyra and Arthur"
Chapter 34: "The Choice is not the one you thought"
Chapter 35: "What we are meant to be"
Chapter 36: "The Fresh air of the North"
Chapter 37: "From this day, Until our last day"
Chapter 38: "Husband and Wife"
Chapter 39: "The Heirs' Meeting"
Chapter 40: "Parents and children"
Chapter 41: "The Return of the Wolf"
Chapter 42: "Acclimating"
Chapter 43: "The Beetle"
Chapter 44: "The Second Wedding"
Chapter 45: "The Black Feast"
Chapter 46: "Jaehaeron"
Chapter 47: "Bronze Wings"
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