The sun rose as usual in East Qohor, bathing the city in its golden hue. The weather too was the same as the previous day. The river was flowing as usual and the wind was blowing as usual.
From an outside perspective, nothing seemed different, but within the city, turmoil was reigning. From nobles, rich merchants, magisters, common men and women, to servants and even slaves, everyone was anxious and fearful.
Today was the day when the fate of their city would be decided. Whether they would surrender and live or resist and be burned alive by the dragons. The massive dragon flying over the city and the loud roar that had sent vibrations throughout the city was a thing that had been constantly flashing through the minds of the residents.
If there had been any doubts about the rumours of the presence of the dragons outside the city walls, the doubts had been completely resolved. The black dragon flying over the city had been as real as it could have been.
What decision the magisters had reached, no one apart from them knew. And that uncertainty made the fear worse.
As the first light filtered through the city, the southern gates were flung open, and eleven magisters strode out on their horses.
As their horses moved slowly, they took in the sight of the camp that had been set up in front of the city the previous night.
It was a modest camp of around a thousand tents housing twenty five hundred men.
At the very front, directly facing the gates, stood one tent slightly larger than all the rest. Though not luxurious, it was obvious that whoever stayed inside it was a person of authority.
But neither the camp nor the commanding tent was the centre of attention. The centre of attention were the five dragons, lazing on the ground around the leading tent.
The magisters gulped as their horses continued forward.
To the untrained eye, nothing about their formation looked unusual. But anyone familiar with the internal dynamics of the ruling council would have immediately noticed something different.
Rick was the one riding at the front. Rick had been a member of the ruling council for years, but he had never held any true leadership role.
Yet today, he was the one leading the charge.
The magisters finally reached the perimeter of the camp, where a couple of dozen soldiers stepped forward to greet them.
"Inform Lady Targaryen," Rick said, his voice commanding despite the fear, anxiety, and nervousness brewing beneath it, the dragons not far from him were almost making him tremble, "that the magisters are here to meet her."
The guard nodded and turned back. But even before he could take a step, Rhaenys emerged from the tent, flanked by two of her maids. While the maids walked in a different direction, Rhaenys herself strode forward to meet the magisters.
"Lady Targaryen," the magisters greeted in unison.
Rhaenys nodded, "Magisters."
"Please follow me," she said, beckoning them forward.
The magisters exchanged nervous glances but complied, following her behind the tent. To their mild surprise, around a dozen chairs had already been arranged there.
"Please have a seat," Rhaenys said as she took her own place.
The magisters followed suit. Before any actual conversation began, brief introductions were exchanged.
"So," Rhaenys started, her eyes calmly sweeping across them, "I assume you are here to convey the decision you have reached."
"And I certainly hope," she added with a faint smile, "that it is the decision I am expecting."
"Lady Targaryen," it was Rick who took hold of the conversation, "we have no qualms in surrendering the city and accepting you as our queen, but there are certain things we wish to know."
"And," he continued, "there are certain guarantees we would want from you."
Rick's rise in influence had been surprising even to himself. After he presented his arguments in the council meeting, the council had plunged into another round of heated debate. And in the midst of those debates, because of the smaller but practical ideas Rick provided to secure their interests, he had inevitably emerged as their leader.
The magisters, who were now prepared to surrender but wished to secure their wealth and power had chosen Rick to negotiate certain terms with Rhaenys and safeguard their interests.
While Rick was trying to negotiate terms with Rhaenys, certain things were unfolding in Westeros.
(Catelyn POV)
I am Catelyn Tully. Lady of House Stark. Of Winterfell.
I know there would be an uncountable number of people, specifically women, who would kill to be in my shoes. I am the daughter of the Lord Paramount of the Riverlands and Lord of Riverrun, Hoster Tully. I am the wife of the Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell, Eddard Stark. My brother in law is the Hand of the King and Lord Paramount of the Vale, Jon Arryn. My husband is also the sworn brother of King Robert Baratheon.
And it is not that I hate or detest my position. In fact, I feel privileged to be where I am. But I know that despite my position, there are problems and tensions in my own life.
It has been years since I married Ned in the midst of a war and moved to Winterfell. Winterfell is cold, cold in a way the Riverlands never were. Even in summer it is chilly. Your bones always clatter in Winterfell and you have to keep yourself wrapped in thick fur all the time.
Though it had been hard to adjust in the early years, not only because of the weather but also because of the cultural differences and the different faith, I slowly settled. Winterfell became my home. I would not say that I started to accept or even appreciate the culture of the North. It was that I learned to tolerate certain cultural practices of the old gods.
Ned deserves much of the credit. He even built a small sept for me so that I could continue following my faith. He is undoubtedly a very great man.
Everything was so great, so wonderful, but there were worries I could not ignore. I worried about my sons, my daughters, especially Arya.
But the greatest of all these problems was none other than Ned Stark's bastard son.
Jon Snow.
And another worrisome news had come about him. My heart burned as I looked at the crumbled piece of parchment in my hand.
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