41 Bandits and Shadows

I fiddled with my moonstone ring as the horse whickered beneath me, standing before the host of Dragonguard drawn up across the narrow dirt track. Beside me, Torreo the Red was praising the new boots he'd looted off the corpse of a Lannister knight, and Harry Strickland was complaining of saddle sores. I didn't want to be greeting our new allies – that was Daenerys' duty – but I was in a high enough position for the burden. This was my so-called punishment, and Daenerys just knew how much I hated greeting people. She said she was too busy. Her Grace was busy performing charity with Septa Lemore and Arya and felt that was a more important use of her limited time. More so than meeting the Brotherhood without Banners.

When the messenger arrived shortly after the battle, I would admit I'd been surprised but not shocked. I always had the inkling some of their numbers were Targaryen loyalists. The one with the yellow cloak felt insulted when forced to play a song railing against a king heavily implied to be a Targaryen monarch, and the Brotherhood appeared to be bankrolled by House Darry. Then there was them being opposed to both Stark and Lannister but that could simply be down to the Riverlanders being Riverlanders. I didn't believe all the Brotherhood would be dragon supporters, however. That would be silly. Such an organisation was too decentralised and operated as cells with their own commanders and allegiances. Some claimed to be Brotherhood but had never met Lord Beric Dondarrion or the rest of his ilk, and instead took advantage of the chaos for their own ends. I didn't know how large this host joining us would be, but I came prepared with a flatting number of high-ranking knights and guardsmen carrying aloft fluttering banners. He was still a lord and should be treated to a lord's welcome.

They appeared then, as riders emerged from the green of the living forest in a long dusty column. Unfortunately, the winding roads made it impossible to judge the size of their host so it could range anywhere from a few hundred to a few thousand. It was likely the former.

Unlike most armies, the Brotherhood without Banners lacked standards snapping above them, nor were they outfitted in a somewhat standardised kit like my legionaries or Westerosi household troops. Instead, the column was outfitted in whatever mail they came across, rusted and soiled, with surcoats of half a dozen houses. I spotted the Darry's plough, the blue-green maelstrom of House Wylde of Rainhouse, House Mallery's six mullets and around them were those of no allegiances so they were like to be farmers and craftsmen and whoever joined their outfit. There had to be a few hundred, mounted on anything from knightly destriers to lame draft horses and stout ponies. They were also laughing, some of whom were singing. Clearly not disciplined by any means. The Brotherhood without Banners, the defenders of the smallfolk. A rabble unfit for proper battle but a useful addition all the same.

That was if we could sway them.

"There're a few," Ser Rollam needlessly informed me. He'd recently been knighted after the battle and now wore a black surcoat with his lightning bolt splitting a castle in two. Because of his knighthood, he was now calling himself Ser Rollam Stormbreaker which, to be honest, was quite kickass. "I can spot a few houses. Do you think there are lords among them?"

"Other than Lord Dondarrion, I think not," Strickland commented. "The Brotherhood is no more than a rabble. A horde of bandits and self-styled knights. I don't want them around the army. I trust them not."

Neither did I, but we weren't in a position to refuse their swords. We were given a great influx of soldiers and Connington expected even more lords to join our banner in due time. With a continent the size of South America to conquer there wasn't such a thing as having too large an army. Especially not a light force who knew the land. I would even go as far as to say the Brotherhood just arrived in time. Suspiciously so, I'd go so far as to say. The news of our recent victory couldn't have reached them so fast nor could they have arrived in such a short time frame. They had to be waiting to see which side won. That was what many houses seemed to be doing with the roses first amongst them. I suspected we'll soon receive a raven from the Tyrells and Mace proclaiming how he never once stopped supporting the dragons. Then he'll strike Storm's End as Blackheart and Connington theorised. A repeat of Robert's Rebellion. Hopefully this time he'll do more than sit on his fat arse. "Come. It's rude to not meet his lordship halfway." Then I spurred my horse into a canter, and everyone followed.

"Prince Aegon Blackfyre," called out one stick of a man in a ragged black cloak speckled with stars and a battered iron breastplate dinted from a hundred battles.

Despite myself, I couldn't help but stare while those behind me cursed in shock and surprise but mostly horror. A thicket of red-gold hair hid most of his face save for a bald spot above his left eye where his head had been smashed in. One of his eyes was gone, the flesh around the socket scarred and puckered and there was a dark ring around his neck. He was a dead man or at least should be. There were stories of people surviving the impossible but I didn't think that extended to coming back from the dead with a kiss. Half a dozen times Beric died only to come back, and now he stood before me. I glanced at the man beside him – the man in the red robes of a red priest – and thought, Lyra's so going to recruit you.

I felt a tug on my reins and urged my mount to not shy away. But despite my discomfort – and that of everyone around me – I schooled my face into a polite smile regardless of my disgust doing all it could to twist my face into a horrified grimace. "Well met, my lord. We had word of your approach and Queen Daenerys bid me ride out to welcome you in her name. We are honoured to meet a warrior as renowned as yourself."

"And I am honoured as much if not more so, my prince," Lord Beric said in a surprisingly human voice. "We have heard of your victory and I must congratulate you. It was fortunate as well. Else we might have galloped towards our very deaths right into the lion's jaws."

"Which I'm sure you'll recover from given your widespread reputation. Of you returning after being reportedly killed numerous times. Quite a few stories, it seems, and mayhaps you'll even be willing to share." From the noises around me, more than a few Golden Company men were unsettled. I tried to ignore it, but it was disconcerting. Besides the dragons, this was the most magical thing I'd ever come across. He was a zombie. Not one that was trying to tear my flesh apart but one who was cognisant. Somehow that was even more unsettling.

"Only because I have," Beric smiled sadly. "But we can talk about that later, Prince Aegon. It has been a long ride from the Riverlands, and the men and horses are tired and hungry."

But not you. "Of course, my lord. I'll lead the way."

Inside the Dun Fort's great hall, I introduced Lord Beric and his companions to the queen, upper echelons of the Golden Company and newly made friends.

"May I present to you Daenerys of House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Mother of Dragons," I said after Dondarrion and the Brotherhood introduced themselves.

Despite all having sers before their names, few of the Brotherhood had contact with nobility before Dondarrion appeared and were clearly anxious being inside a castle before the contentious eyes of the Westerosi nobility. I couldn't help but wonder if the Seven Kingdoms had laws regarding resurrection and whether his heir should be Lord of Blackhaven, whoever that may be. I somehow doubted that was the case though, but it should be an interesting subject I'd love to talk about after poaching Haldon.

"I've heard many tales of your exploits, my Lord Beric Dondarrion," Dany said politely with a small smile from atop her throne. If the queen felt any disgust, she hid it well. She'd been well trained, I thought with satisfaction. "They say you're unkillable."

"I believe you just have to look at me to judge whether those tales are true, Your Grace. You have many stories of your own and they paint you as no less valiant. Such as stepping into a pyre to hatch dragons which is brave of you, and taking charge of the Golden Company as well. I confess it's a strange way to hatch such creatures, but you cannot deny the results. I must commend you as well, Prince Aegon Blackfyre. Your own achievements are as impressive if not more so." He smiled at me with a hint of sadness. "We have heard tales of your victories both this side of the Narrow Sea and the other. I saw the Golden Company, or the legion, as you are calling them now, and I fear these ones more than the army forged by Bittersteel. Given enough time, you might even rival the Conqueror himself. You show promise despite your youth, as we are seeing with many characters across the breadth of Westeros."

I did feel a growing warmth in my heart at that. "That is kind of you to say, my lord. Thank you for the compliment."

"I do not mean to compliment you, my prince. I am only speaking the truth. War . . . war brings out monsters in us all. But also the heroes. Those who stand up for what's good and right, and that is why I am here. I can see, Your Grace, how many once sided against you and your family. Both ancient enemies and new ones. Those in the Riverlands know much about ancient grudges. They have spent much of their history awash with blood either from fighting outsiders or against each other."

"I hope you've not come here to speak about the histories of the Riverlands," Connington grumbled with usual coarseness. "From what we have heard of your band your kind are little more than outlaws no different from the Kingswood Brotherhood, except larger and masquerading your actions by proclaiming yourselves loyal to the realm instead of yourselves."

"We are loyal to the realm, Lord Connington," Beric said, his single eye not leaving Daenerys. "We are servants of the realm. Loyal servants of King Robert and we fought against the Lannisters since the outbreak of the war."

"How noble of you," Connington grimaced even further. "If you had not taken guest rights, I would send you to the gallows and let you slowly hang. But I have a feeling we might need a more final sort of punishment." Myles, a frown flaring across his homely features, lifted a hand to silence him. "Blackheart, you can't be—"

"They came willing to talk and we'll let them speak," Toyne reprimanded him. "Let them speak, Jon. They left their swords by the door as you will with any grievances you have."

Beric bowed his head politely. "I thank you, ser."

"I thank you for appearing and showing the world Beric Dondarrion," Daenerys said, "I do wonder why you showed up when you proclaim you're loyal to the late false king Robert Baratheon. I hope you don't mean to turn your swords against us. I will warn you especially as you've already taken guest rights that guarantee the protection of the hosts as well as the guests."

"We have no intention of raising swords against you without just cause," one man said with a deep voice. Carrying himself like a proper soldier, he wore rows of overlapping steel rings sewn into his shirt and his head was protected with an iron halfhelm. His teeth were broken and rotting and he'd a brushy brown beard. It was the cloak, though, that was the most recognisable thing about him. It was hooded and eye-catching in bright yellow the same colour as piss, thick and heavy and stained with grass. "We rose up to fight the Lannisters and there are many in our company who are dragon men, just as there are those who swore for wolf and trout."

"A brotherhood without banners," I said with a thin smirk. "May you answer the queen's question. Why are you here?" I already knew the answer. But I just wanted to know the cost. There was always a cost.

The Lightning Lord studied me before answering. "We have come to promise our swords and the support of the Brotherhood. For too long has the peace been replaced with the chaos of lords fighting their wars against one another. The smallfolk of the Riverlands have borne the brunt of such conflict. Fields have been burnt to ash by Lord Tywin's mad dogs and holdfasts have been destroyed. Many lords have lost their lives and countless smallfolk have been left at the mercy of wolves and lions with the nobility unable to defend them as is their duty."

"The wolves are just as bad as the lions," called one man. He looked to be around fifty, with thinning brown hair and a narrow foxy face, sharp nose and wide mouth. His clothes were a collection of patched faded greens. "They rode into the Riverlands with wolves riding at their heels, their howling filling the moonlit night. But wolves are dangerous as lions and soon looked at us as prey. In the name of Good King Robb, they've looted and raped, burned our fields, soiled our women and children, and put countless towns to the sword. They called it justice and demanded we thank them for their dark deeds. Those who didn't have coin to give were flayed and hung and hunted down like dogs."

Are our own forces so exempt from those same accusations? I very much doubted so. I rose an eyebrow and noticed the harp hanging from his side. Tom o' Sevenstreams. "Are the Starks little loved in the Riverlands?"

"Many stories come from there," the Lightning Lord confessed. "We hold no love for the Starks, but they at least hold the pretence of aiding the Riverlands in their struggle. What they don't say is that the North forced the Riverlords hand to become vassals of Winterfell and House Stark."

Just as how we forced certain houses to become direct vassals of the Iron Throne? He was wrong about that but, then again, the books just glossed over how the Riverlords felt about the North riding in and suddenly becoming a dominion of House Stark. I felt some Riverland houses would be opposed to that change in leadership if the Lannisters didn't decide to blitzkrieg the region beforehand. But I should expect as much from the Brotherhood as the core of their host were Riverlanders who, let's face it, had never been fans of foreign occupation. So why would they want to join us then? "I confess to hearing horrid atrocities committed by Robb Stark." Not him personally but the Karstarks and Boltons and other houses besides.

"It was his lords whodunnit," one grey-haired man said as he rubbed his broken nose. "They proclaim they're fighting for our defence and that we're obligated to give them our crops. If we refuse they set our homes to the torch. That Bolton is the worst as is that giant to the far north. A wildling! Wildlings and monstrous wolves!"

"My Lord of Blackhaven," Daenerys declared. "I would like to thank you for coming and I understand your concerns about the welfare of the Riverlands which no doubt expands to the rest of the Seven Kingdoms as well. The Riverlands is not the only region that has found itself set alight. I know not whether you speak still on behalf of House Dondarrion for they are fighting with Lord Stannis and you have been serving as leader of the Brotherhood, but should you bend the knee, I swear on the honour of House Targaryen that I will set all the wrongdoings of the realm to rights. Only once there's a single person sitting on the Iron Throne can we begin to quench the fires of Westeros. To bend the knee will bring us one step closer to peace."

Beric shook his head. "I cannot accept that. Words are wind, Your Grace, and many pretenders are promising the same thing. Even Lord Tywin promised to set the realm to rights though his way involved sword and fire and burning holdfasts to cinders. You have dragons so what does that mean? The memories of dragons being unleashed upon the Riverlands is still remembered to this day. During the Dance of the Dragons when Prince Aemond Targaryen laid castles and farms to waste, and the reign of Maegor the Cruel where he fought against the Faith and lords rebelling against tyranny. Your dragons are small, but they'll grow and should we be marked as enemies of the crown, the Riverlands will burn once more. Much has been said of the ruthlessness of the Golden Company of late and I fear for my companions and smallfolk should we find ourselves at odds."

"We have no desire to burn the Riverlands," I told him. Not if we can help it at any rate. But dragons would be a useful tool for centralising the political infrastructure of the Seven Kingdoms. Should I decide that, yes, smallfolk should have certain rights, lords would have a harder time disagreeing if I could fly over in the space of a day and burn their castles to the ground. But that was the final option. Machiavelli said it was safer to be feared than loved, and seldom did regimes survive if they were based solely on fear. Sooner or later they'll come tumbling down. Just ask the Assyrians. You need to give them an olive branch to grasp and lowering taxes is always a good way to go. It wasn't how much you could extract but how efficiently, and the current tax system left a lot to be desired. Not to mention the future royal family might suffer from austerity to its personal budget if I had anything to do with it. It could afford fewer silks and we might even get the faith and smallfolk on our side if we presented it as humility rather than solely fiscal responsibility.

"As I'm sure you don't, Prince Aegon. Your Grace, we have yet to choose a claimant to follow and after your victory, you'll certainly be the one sitting the Iron Throne. I am not the only one thinking that. I am sure the Reachmen are as well. But if we are to bend the knee as Your Grace wants, we do have some conditions we ask you heed."

Those words caused an angry muttering amongst our side. Some of them, clearly, wanted the Brotherhood to bend the knee and add their troops to ours but without any compromise. We were in the position of strength so how dare they! They were still drunk after our recent victory and some looked ready to gut them for the sole reason of being outlaws. I disagreed. It would be foolish to alienate them. Dondarrion's band was effective and the last thing we needed was to be attacked by guerrilla forces should we march into the Riverlands. Lord Tywin learned those lessons the hard way and our forces were even more suspectable.

Dany rose a hand to silence the hall. "A true queen listens to her subjects, my lords. I want to hear what he means to say."

"We thank you, Your Grace. I'm afraid to say that we are only one group who calls ourselves the Brotherhood. There are many others and they work independently for if one of our hands was cut down, there would be more that can operate without fear. But that allows differences to spring up between us despite fighting for a common purpose."

"And what might these be?" Connington demanded, clearly angry about curtailing to some outlaws despite Dondarrion being a fellow Stormlord.

"The Brotherhood began after being defeated at the Mummer's Ford. Some voices within our group thought we should surrender ourselves to the Lannisters but I convinced them to instead fight in the name of late King Robert to uphold the spirit of his decree of bringing the Mountain to justice and protect the people from the Lannister scourge. We were branded as outlaws by the Lannisters who discredited Lord Eddard's orders and legacy as Hand. It was then when we fought a war in the shadows, as servants of the crown legally carrying out justice in an unjust regime. Initially, it was solely the Lannisters we were fighting against, but soon we started expanding our list of enemies and saw in ourselves the duty to defend the weak against all who would dare harm them."

"So that was when you started fighting against outlaws and northern raiders," I interjected. "We hear tales of the Brotherhood without Banners. You are well-loved by those you protect and despised by those who fight against you. What is it you ask of Her Grace?"

"What we originally asked for is something I don't believe you'll in any way argue against and that's bringing the Lannisters to justice for their crimes. Lord Tywin is already dead. Prince Aegon has seen to it, but there is still Joffrey Waters and his mother."

"We have no reason to refuse that," Dany told him, leaning forward. "But I doubt you approached me solely with that in mind."

"Not at all. We also want Lord Tywin's legacy to be destroyed by you reinstalling King Aegon the Fortunate's reforms. Laws regarding the protection of the smallfolk and the rights that had been curtailed during the Handship of Lord Tywin Lannister. Especially those regarding lesser courts so smallfolk who have been accused of crimes can be tried and have a chance to defend themselves before their peers rather than being punished to the full discretion of their lords."

That caused the hall to erupt in anger and it took the guards pounding their spears against the cold stone floor to silence them.

"Rarely would I imagine a lord being concerned with the lives of smallfolk, especially one away from his own holdings unless he seeks to undermine the realm and natural order," Connington said with mocking scepticism.

I noticed Jon's face flicker and knew why. Connington had never been a fan of peasants and was an archetypal lord in that regard. Like how he disapproved of Rolly being in the Kingsguard in canon and, while Duck had refused here to be with Doreah, the same prejudices would sprout up when I inevitably go down a meritocratic rather than hierarchal government policy. I just knew it. Whenever I mentioned opening positions for the smallfolk he would always look like he'd been sucking on a particularly sour lemon.

"Once I was not," Beric admitted. "My time in the Brotherhood has opened my eyes. Once I'd been like many lordly knights and scorned my duties in favour of finding glory in tourneys. I wanted my name sung in the halls of mighty men and be known across all Seven Kingdoms. That was what made me go after the Mountain when ordered to by Lord Eddard Stark. I heard of the monstrosities that monster had committed and wanted nothing but the glory of toppling the false knight. Not to seek proper justice but to be lauded as a hero. My betrothed was Lady Allyria Dayne of Starfall and it's known the Mountain's name is always followed by spitting south of the Red Mountains. I wanted to impress her. But I died. My party was ambushed at the Mummer's Ford and a great many were killed. It was only thanks to my squire and Green Gergen that I survived the battle even if I died in an ash grove that night."

"You died?" Daenerys was confused. "I . . ."

"These wounds?" Dondarrion smiled a sad thin-lipped smile. "There are a great many stories of men who've survived from what should be fatal wounds. I'm sadly not one of them. I was mortally wounded by Ser Gregor Clegane's lance here. It was only thanks to Thoros of Myr when he performed the last kiss that I returned."

I looked at Thoros who was standing behind his leader. I'd seen a great many red priests during my time in Essos and a number had joined the Golden Company to Westeros. They came in all shapes and sizes but Thoros stood out. The red priest was tall and fat, dressed in flapping red robes stained from the rain and earth and no doubt hiding bloodstains on the crimson cloth. His face was smooth, and his head was shaved clean. "Tis true," the priest said. "I performed the last kiss of the Lord of Light but R'hllor had another destiny for the Lightning Lord. He was woken up from his slumber with purpose once more and has become a most fervent follower."

Connington frowned. "Are you all followers of the Red God?"

"We don't take sides where the gods are concerned," Red Thoros said. "We follow all sorts of gods here. New gods and old gods, gods of the river or fire or spirits of the forest. Some even follow lesser deities known only to the smallfolk away from civilisation. But despite the gods they pray to, we are all knights of the hollow hill."

"What gods you follow is of no concern to us," I said calmly, gesturing the hall to quiet once more. "The Seven Kingdoms is a realm of many peoples and so long as they don't trouble the peace and all follow the laws of the realm, they can find themselves untroubled by the crown to follow whatever gods they desire." No doubt that would piss off the more fundamentalist segments of the population, but that would be against my own principles and I wanted some exodus of skilled labour from Essos into Westeros. If they believed they'd be oppressed because of their beliefs, they were less likely to come. Of course, they would still need to be assimilated to some extent. The last thing we needed was social strife between the locals and newcomers.

Thoros gave a polite nod and Daenerys agreed with my words. "Lord Beric Dondarrion, you make it hard to refuse you. The smallfolk deserve better. Aegon had told me of their plight across the Seven Kingdoms and I experienced similarly during my time in Essos though I confess to being shielded from the worst of it by my brother. I will agree to your request and you will see justice done, but only once you bend the knee and proclaim fealty to House Targaryen and myself."

"And what about the men who served the Lannisters and Baratheons?" Lem Lemoncloak asked with sour scepticism. "Will they be punished as retribution for your exile?"

Daenerys Targaryen eyed the yellow barrow knight for a moment. "What retribution? I desire no retribution to befall the peoples of the Seven Kingdoms." Her tone was civil. "I only want justice as we all want. The knights and smallfolk fought on behalf of their lords who had reasonable objections to my father's actions. Those who followed the usurper into battle did so for he was their lord and they'd sworn service to him and those he called allies. Later they saw Robert as their rightful king because he sat on the Iron Throne and Viserys was a child across the Narrow Sea. Those who bend the knee will be forgiven of any past actions." Her face was a mask.

Good job, Dany. I've been teaching you well. "Unless they committed actions that are clearly reprehensible," I added, eyeing the commanders. "such as rape and the mindless slaughter of towns and villages. Those who did so will be hunted down like dogs and thrown to the gallows, and the people who ordered them to commit such atrocities in the first place. Her Grace is offering mercy, but do not delude yourself by regarding it as weakness. We are still the blood of the dragon."

"Not if we get them first," Lord Beric said solemnly. "Wars make monsters of us all."

"Some monsters were performing their misdeeds before the war started. Long before it even. Fortunately, they are now dropping like flies. The Father and the Seven see justice is done one way or another." Tywin and Amory Lorch for starters. The Mountain had survived the battle and fled to King's Landing with what remained of the Lannister host. The bloody circus that was the Brave Companions had fled to hide between Lord Bolton's legs and I couldn't go after them without Robb Stark's permission or risk open war on a defenceless flank. I knew it wouldn't remain the case though. Once they were freed of their master's protection they'll still need to cross the Narrow Sea and that would be the time they'd be dealt with. "How many men have you brought here, my lord?"

"Four hundred. More will come from the Riverlands upon hearing we have thrown our lot with you. The Brotherhood has many supporters, but we rarely know where the other groups are. For secrecy against the Lannisters. I'm sure you understand."

"I do. Because you're not officially part of the legions, you will be listed as auxiliaries with all the other Westerosi who've offered us their swords. It's fortunate you have come when you did. We'll soon be on the move again and this time heading straight to King's Landing. Cersei Lannister and Joffrey will be brought to justice. Mark my words."

...

Inside the tent, the silken walls surrounding us turned orange and yellow from the glow of half a dozen tallow candles while the air shimmered with a hazy quality like that of a dream. Despite being chilly outside, inside there was a smothering warmth like stepping out of a hot shower that made my eyes grow heavy. Standing sentry outside was a pair of Dragonguards and their tall armoured shapes formed silhouettes before the flap entrance, ensuring no one would dare disturb us.

Few would, especially with my current company.

I was sitting at my writing desk having just finished my paperwork and opposite me was Lyra who looked gaunter with the sharpness of her features horrific in such light. When she entered, I was busy writing to Myles and Connington requesting they to switch our military rule over our occupied territories to a peacetime one, as well as proposing to Daenerys the creation of a successor to the current royal treasury. The one currently used across Westeros was inefficient and highly corrupt. For starters, most taxes were outsourced to third parties directed to harvest a set amount from a certain lord and said tax collectors would regularly drain as much wealth as possible and pocket the difference. The men under Littlefinger were especially hated. That would need to change. It wasn't an efficient system and only bred corruption which was the next war I'd need to fight. One waged in the halls of government with quills and offices rather than swords.

"You're becoming very popular now," I grinned at Lyra as I lounged backwards, taking a bite of an apple with a satisfying crunch. "Qyburn, the Lightning Lord and that priest of his – that Thoros of Myr – it's like the world itself wants you to delve into its little secrets."

"I've yet to speak with the red priest. I wish we were still at Harrenhal," Lyra admitted, drumming her fingers across the table. My eyes were drawn to the soiled bandages wrapped around her hands from where she'd cut open her own palms. Magic always needed blood, but it seemed to drain one's soul as well. At least in Lyra's case. You just had to glance at her to see that. "I could have done more. There was magic inside those walls, pumping through the ancient weirwood frames like the arteries of a body. Dormant, yes, but very much alive. It's very much an anchor. You remember what I said about anchors?"

"That they're locations where magic is stronger or something like that. There are places around the world that are closely tied to magic be its origins natural or manmade."

She smiled thinly. "Harrenhal is one such place and the God's Eye with its Isle of Faces in the centre. They say Harrenhal is cursed and I believe them if not for the reasons they imagine."

"They say everyone holding the castle dies one way or another. To some unnatural cause. That could be said for any castle but only Harrenhal has the reputation. You don't hear them say Casterly Rock is cursed when that holdfast is much older and doubtless has seen more death within its halls."

Lyra leaned back in her chair, rocking back and forth and making me worry she might fall backwards and crack her head. "There're other castles that are reputed to be haunted but Harrenhal is clearly the largest. The most cursed thanks to Aegon the Conqueror turning it into molten slag. No one holds the castle for long – at most a few generations – but they always come to an end or just die off thanks to lack of offspring. The weirwood used to build the castle plays a large part. I'm sure of it."

I thought about Harrenhal and how much time and money it would take to tear it down stone by stone. That was what I should do with it. It was a blight upon the land, but also a symbol of Targaryen might. Not to mention serve as a white elephant the crown grants to ambitious lords it would rather neuter. "Either it's magic or it's mundane. Honestly, I'm edging towards the latter. It's too large for anyone but royalty to hold and maintain. Harrenhal's located in the centre of Westeros and many lords would love nothing more than to sack the place. Not to mention suffering unrecoverable damage three hundred years ago. It doesn't help that the best land around the God's Eye that once belonged to it has been gifted to other lords so it's even harder for Poor Lord Harrenhal to pay the vast upkeep."

"Just so," Lyra acknowledged. "But there's something beyond that. I acknowledge what some people claim to be magic is just the natural world thanks to people's limited understanding of how the world operates. But would you care you explain the more unnatural stories of the place?"

"Unnatural? That I'll disagree with. If it's supernatural it doesn't exist. If magic exists, it's a force that's just misunderstood. Magic is just something we can't explain." I was one of those people who theorised the magic in Asoiaf was scientific in nature. It all appeared to be some form of telepathy and telekinesis. It wasn't exactly realistic but GRRM was a science fiction writer for most of his career and similar systems popped up in his other books. If we learnt how it worked, it'd be much easier to control and use.

"One that's seldom understood even by its best researchers. What is known is that the easiest way to gain magic or knowledge is through sacrifice. Either self-sacrifice or someone else. Blood is the easiest way to go. Or death. Children are the most preferred for the beings that live beyond time and space. Like you."

I rolled my eyes with a sigh. "I hope you look further into it. I do need you and Qyburn's help on one thing . . ."

Lyra leaned forward, staring at me with those soulless black eyes of hers. They'd been alive with intellect and she'd once been comely, but ever since we hatched the dragons her skin had gotten paler, features gaunter and there was something increasingly uncanny about her appearance. Like her quest for knowledge had slowly been edging her towards the dark side and that was taking its toll on her physically. That or I might just be overthinking her spending every waking hour studying with Qyburn and her opinion that sleep was nice but not essential. "Whatever you ask, I will do better in King's Landing if not Harrenhal itself. There is only so much I can do whilst on the move. I hope that once the city is ours, you will not take me with you anymore."

"You no longer enjoy my company?" I asked with false sadness. "I thought we were friends."

"Allies," she said a little too fast for my liking. "There is only so much I can achieve without the proper equipment. Qyburn has been helping me and has quite a gift when it comes to medicine. More so than I and much more than your Halfmaester. He has learned the secrets of life and death and wants to go even further. With your permission of course."

"So long as he follows the same rules as you do. Limits do need to be enforced. I won't just let anyone be used. Prisoners only, and only ones sentenced for death." She nodded and I looked down to fiddle with the moonstone ring around my index finger. It seemed to glow and shimmer. "There's something I want the both of you to do. I supposed you have spoken to Qyburn about returning the dead back to life?"

"As Lord Dondarrion has done? As have you? I have spoken to Qyburn about it. The Brave Companions had gifted him plenty of bodies to use - as can be expected when you travel around with a brutal sellsword company - but seldom had he the opportunity to put what he learned into practice. He does aspire to bring someone back to life though I do think usurping their consciousness with another entity isn't what he intends."

I ignored the sally. "I want an army. An army built from the corpses of those lost in battle." I smiled darkly and she did all she could to keep from smirking.

That was my desire when Qyburn joined our merry band. A legion made up of the undead, enhanced beyond human means like Ser Robert Strong. To use them when fighting the White Walkers and save the lives of regular soldiers by serving as an unconquerable wall against hordes of wights. When you thought about it, zombies were the robots of the supernatural world - unthinking and having no concept of self-preservation. They wouldn't need to eat for Ser Robert didn't, and they weren't affected by the elements which were useful when fighting in the freezing cold. A perfect tool against an army of ice elves and their hordes. The faith wouldn't like it, nor would Daenerys and her lords. That was why I desired to keep them in the dark. A secret project only I and a few others knew about.

"An army of the cursed and damned?" Lyra, despite herself, looked conflicted. But I doubted it was for moral reasons so much as pragmatic ones. Lyra had no morals.

"I prefer the term bio-robots, personally," I grinned, taking another bite. "Do you think such a thing is possible?"

"Depends how soon you want it. It'll be a matter of trial and error most certainly. We haven't brought anybody back either so it might not even be doable. Then Qyburn has severely overestimated his own abilities. But if it is . . . well, nothing's saying your army might not happen. But what about the politics?"

"Politics? Lyra, I am shocked. I thought such a thing was beneath you. You should care only for the science."

"I don't unless it affects me and this will certainly affect you, which will, in turn, affect me. I cannot possibly imagine the Faith of the Seven, the lords, or even your little queen agreeing with such a thing. If they hear about it, you'll be bound and gagged and torn apart by the mob. Me alongside you."

"They might . . . but they don't need to know about it. This will be a secret. Known only to us and a few select individuals on a needs to know basis. Understand?" I understood the political ramifications of such a thing. The Faith would launch a crusade against what they saw as the dark arts. But against the Others and the coming Second Battle for the Dawn, I couldn't leave anything to chance. I didn't know anything about what was going up north, but I did know it was going to be bad. The winter will be the worst part. It'll stress our logistics to the breaking point, freeze people and cause starvations aplenty. An army that didn't eat or feel the cold would be a god's send.

"And what if your little queen does find out?"

"Then I'll just deny it, and you will as well."

"Afraid of angering Daenerys Targaryen? Huh. Must be hard being the queen's wife."

"Wife?" Despite myself, my anger spiked. "What do you mean by that?"

Lyra shrugged and leant back in her chair again, dangerously close to falling over. It would only require a light push . . .

"Y'know, Aegon, I'm not impressed with how you conduct yourself around her, or why you don't stand up more to yourself in council. Be more assertive instead of letting everyone walk right over you, and no doubt kicking you in the head in the process. You are the blood of the dragon or whatever you winged snakes call yourselves. Wasn't it Viserys who called himself that and made a point to say 'I am the blood of the dragon and I will not be denied' at every bloody opportunity? If they spoke to him as they speak to you, he'd pull rank and they'll be gifted shackles if he'd any real power as you do. Instead, you let your lords and wife walk right over you as if you were a common rug."

"That is not so."

"Is it not? Colour me surprised then, Blackfyre. For starters, you let Myles whip you—"

Because I otherwise deserted. If I was anyone else I'd be executed. It was worth the price of a scarred back for Arya Stark. "Don't forget yourself or the fact he is the captain-general of the Golden Company—"

"And you are the black dragon! His superior! The last time I checked generals took orders from royalty. Not the other way around. Even with your youth, being tied to a stake and whipped until your back was bloody was unworthy even with the disciplining the Golden Company is renowned for. Or what happened recently with your talk of so-called intended reforms for King's Landing. You've got your own principles as much as I disagree with them. I mean, restricting your own power and transferring authority to merchants and moneylenders? That's not only stupid but actively dangerous. What you should do is become a second Maegor Targaryen, lay to waste the established lords of Westeros and put your own people in place. Clear the board, you could say. Then these new lords you rose up - likely members of the Golden Company - will be forced to do as you want. You can then push whatever reforms you desire and they'll follow without the slightest hesitation unless they wish to suffer as Harren the Black had done. They will fear you. But if you want to go the opposite direction, I'll enjoy watching your face as anarchy rules. You should have made a principled stand and made sure neither Daenerys nor Connington nor Blackheart refuse you. Be the dragon you're meant to be."

I sighed and slid down my seat somewhat. I didn't see what she was saying as true considering I wasn't exactly at the top of the food chain as it were. Sure, I had power but, like every power structure, I was held back in the tug of war that was politics. In feudal society, the three pillars had been the monarch, the landed gentry, and the priests. Later the merchants became a power in their own right. All fought and allied against each other against one or another. Here it was the Blacks and Reds butting heads, and the Moderates trying to keep the peace. Only made worse when you added Westerosi natives into the soup. But mayhaps Lyra did have a point in the blunt give no fucks way she did. I had never been the most assertive person and that had clearly not gone away despite being here for close to three years. Maybe I should root my feet into the ground and refuse to take a step further. "Let's say I follow your advice, then what would you have me do?"

Lyra studied me for a moment then shrugged. "How am I to explain assertiveness to a silver-haired princeling with armies and dragons under his command? Honestly, Aegon, that's up for you to decide. If I told you how to grow yourself a backbone, you're not really growing one yourself, now are you? You will be ruling over a continent with half the population desiring to stab you in the back, and the other half trying to bend you to their will either through threats or flattery. Then there's your marriage. You're the consort of a queen and will have numerous courtiers trying to woo your wife so prepare to defend yourself and your honour. Here's some advice. Ladies love it when their man stands up for himself, and want someone who's resilient. Daenerys is besotted with you but how long do you think that'll last when the novelty wears off and she's surrounded with comely lordlings who, let's face it, are more exciting than you? She's still a young girl and can easily be led astray."

"If you want me to be more authoritative, I could always cut out your tongue as some lords do to underlings who talk back."

"You can be assertive to everyone else but not me. You could try to cut off my tongue but your glass candle and I would be long gone, and you won't have your army made of the dead."

"There is always Qyburn. I only need him."

"It would be twice as hard with half as many."

"True," I confessed. "I don't think shouting 'I am the dragon' will do much though. Viserys had no hope of taking Westeros as much as Daenerys might try to claim otherwise. Unless I decide to go full Maegor as you wish I do, and needlessly suffer a similar fate if not an earlier one with my own wife and generals deciding it's safer I cease breathing, I will have to rule moderately alongside Daenerys as an equal. I have no desire to become king. I've told you several times. I've told my supporters enough times already. There need's to be restrictions on power, Lyra, and I like to believe we can stop the other from going too far."

"Which you could have done but as the king. You should never have bent the knee. She should have been the mere consort. You are better and smarter than her. She is only a child-woman. Look at what you have achieved compared to herself. They say she hatched the dragons but look at my face and see which one of us suffered more from her actions. She didn't even die from inhaling all the smoke! How is that possible! Instead, she got into your heart and is ruling you. She can twist you around, bend you to her will, and you don't even see it . . . Is Daenerys the first girl you have ever fallen for by any chance?"

I opened my mouth but closed it suddenly.

"She is isn't she?" Lyra let out a chortle. "What is why love is a weakness, sweetling. Love is a cancer that grows inside you and makes you do foolish irrational things. For a mere smile you curse yourself with stupidity."

"You never liked her now did you?"

"Why should I? What has she really done since you met her? You trained in the Golden Company, you made those . . . what are they called? Those seeding machines currently collecting dust in Pentos and waiting to be sent across the Narrow Sea. The other ones currently printing messages to lords and posters to build up support among the common people, oh, and won a score of victories and lost those you cared for. I respect people who do things. What has Daenerys Targaryen ever done?"

"It's not what she does but who she is. We might disagree but I know Daenerys will be a good queen. A better queen than I would be a king." Which wasn't to mention being more practical as well. While her time in Mereen hadn't been without worry, her rule in Westeros would be easier if just for the fact the native customs were closer to her own. She was raised to take Westeros, not Slaver's Bay, and had been educated further by Lemore and Haldon. That made it easier for Daenerys to serve as the charming face of the Iron Throne while I reformed the political institutions of Westeros into something efficient and purging its worst excesses. "I will take what you said about me growing myself a spine, but I don't think we're going to see eye to eye on this matter."

Lyra opened her mouth, no doubt for a cutting retort but her eyes widened, and her mouth closed with enough force to crack her teeth.

I smiled. "No snarky comeback? That's unlike you. That is good. You're finally learning and—" I was silenced when a sudden gust of wind flung open the tent flap. I turned around, expecting to see someone entering unannounced but saw no one there. It wasn't windy outside. Not at all. Maybe it's just a rogue gust or something. I shook my head and continued unabated; my voice slightly stilted before turning back to Lyra whose eyes grew wide as a pair of eggs. "It is a good idea and . . ." my voice trailed off, dying in my throat as something appeared in the corner of my vision.

A flicker of movement. Darkness reflected on my metallic cup.

I turned around and came face to face with a shadow peering through the canvas. No one should be listening in. Lyra ensured they wouldn't.

Yet I saw something looking in like a figure of a shadow, moving, lifting its sword and . . .

I cursed, throwing myself to the side as the figure burst through the silken wall with a single sweep of its sword, slitting the material as if the thick canvas was only air. It slipped through the gap, not climbing so much as flowing inside like smoke.

It was tall. A black void cutting through the fabric of reality without any features. All around us, the candles were silenced, snuffed out in a heartbeat.

I rolled around, staring up at the creature as it looked down at me and the world came to a sudden halt. It slowed down notably, and I suddenly grew aware of everything going on around me. My two guards had burst in but stood staring at the figure. My hands were wrapped tight around Blackfyre's handle, but locked there, unable to free the sword from the scabbard.

My training, my instincts disappeared at that moment. My arms refused to move. My limbs, my very body, had turned to stone.

The shadow assassin flew towards me and then . . .

A flash. A flash of light. Coating the entire world in whiteness. A warmth wrapped around my finger. Gentle at first like a lover's breath, then erupted all of a sudden. It felt as if my digit was on fire.

There was a crackling sound. Then the ring burst, spraying shards of moonstone around the tent.

It was gone.

The shadow. The assassin. The humanoid silhouette wasn't there. There was a tear in the tent from where the canvas had been parted but that was the only evidence anything had happened.

"M-my . . . my prince . . . w-what was that?" one of the guards asked. Both of whom stood rooted to the ground rather than rushing between me and that thing. Some guards they were!

"I-I . . . I don't know," was my hoarse response, staring at where the thing remained as an afterimage in my eyes. I saw a face. But it wasn't Stannis, or at least not how I imagined him. It was someone else. Someone different. Someone who was likely dead now. Either from Melisandre fucking the life out of them, or whatever had just happened. That was when I noticed the warmth trickling down my leg, and I looked down. I could almost laugh at the sensation, both from shock and relief I could still draw breath. But I didn't. Instead, my teeth were chattering as my very body pulsed with adrenaline. Shaking. Fight or flight, but sometimes you can't move despite yourself. "But I've got a hint who sent it."

"The shadowbinder," Lyra said without a moment to ponder. "That priestess from Asshai. Cunning priestess. Cunning, devious priestess."

I looked down at the ring around my thumb where the moonstone had cracked and exploded. The copper had cooled but it was still warm to the touch. I tore it off and threw it across the tent. No point wearing depleted magical enchantments. The shadow was dead now, I was sure. I certainly hoped so. But that might not be all. Stannis had an entire army with plenty loyal to R'hllor and willing to fuck Melisandre so who knew how many more he might send our way? Chewing my cheek, I stood up and patted myself down, trying my best to look dignified despite everything. My voice was dry, croaky, when I said, "Secure the perimeter."

Yet the guards remained where they stood as if I said nothing at all.

Then my voice hardened; grew louder. "Did I fucking stutter? I told you to secure the perimeter! Now! You inform the hand and queen what happened. There might be one coming for her . . ." This time the guards didn't waste time and shot out of the tent. I turned to Lyra who met my gaze with her own. "Got any more rings?"

"There's your gauntlet."

"Get more. I don't care how. Put everything else on hold. Now go."