Game of Thrones: Winter's Fire

Maekar

Sometimes he still heard the cries of the wounded and the dying. Their screams echoed in the chamber of his mind, and caused him to wake up sweating and panting. War was not the glorious thing that the songs and stories made it out to be. No war was like a nightmare Maekar had been plagued by as a child, but a thousand times worse. He'd seen his friends and allies, people he had grown up with, cut down before his very eyes. He'd killed men he had once considered friends and comrades in arms, simply because Daemon Blackfyre had been manipulated into trying to claim the throne that was not his to claim. Westeros had bled because of Bittersteel and Fireball and the anger they felt towards Maekar's father King Daeron the Good, and the supposed insults that he had done to them. Daemon would not have raised himself in rebellion had it not been for those two constantly whispering in his ear, Maekar knew that. Maekar also knew that what Bloodraven had done to end the battle of Redgrass field whilst necessary, had been completely cowardly and without honour. And if there was something that Maekar could not stand it was a man who fought without honour, and his uncle had done just that.

After Redgrass, there had been much to do. There had been wounded to tend to, there had been dead to bury or burn, and then of course Maekar had had to chase those rebels that were trying to flee across the narrow sea but had not left with Bittersteel. That had led to several minor skirmishes within the Riverlands and even in the Stormlands, but they had all been quite bloody. Lord Lonmouth had led the Blackfyre troops in the Stormlands and had taken Lord Devan Strickland's place in laying siege to Storm's End when Daemon's good father had marched north to join his good son at Redgrass. Strickland had fled with Bittersteel but Lonmouth kept fighting, it had taken Maekar three days and many minor fights before Lonmouth had been slain and his son had surrendered and the siege had been lifted. It still grated on him though that Bittersteel had managed to escape him. The man was responsible for bringing war and death to Westeros and as such needed to be brought to justice. Yet Maekar's father had ordered him not to pursue Bittersteel, because the man was not the key threat to House Targaryen, Aemon Blackfyre- Daemon's twelve year old son and heir- was, the boy had been Daemon's squire and had fled north with an escort likely to go to his uncle Daeron Stark's army. Maekar's father had written quite clearly that Aemon Blackfyre was the main threat to stability in Westeros not Bittersteel, and so Bittersteel had been allowed to flee across the narrow sea to Tyrosh with Daemon's wife and his remaining children.

Their spies in the north had reported that Aemon Blackfyre had arrived at Winterfell some days ago and was now learning the arts of being king under his uncle King Daeron Stark, King of the North and the Iron Islands. The very title made Maekar grind his teeth in anger. His oldest friend Daeron had crowned himself and was harbouring the threat to Maekar's family, and would more than likely start yet more wars to see the boy put on the Iron Throne before he died. Maekar could understand the hurt and anger that his friend must be feeling, he knew the feeling well, but why would he allow himself to be crowned, Maekar could not understand. As far as he could remember Daeron had never hungered for crowns despite the insults that Maekar knew his mother had heaped on Daeron and the north. Of course his friend had been hungry for glory, what young boy wasn't? But he had never shown any ambitions to be more than Lord of Winterfell, nothing more. He supposed war did things to people, changed them in subtle ways. He knew he had changed in some ways, some of them good, some of them bad. Any man who said that he was unaffected by war was a liar, or a coward, afraid to face the realities of what they had seen, what they had done. He wondered what sort of man his friend had become.

More memories came back to Prince Maekar as they continued their journey northwards. His father had been hard but fair with those rebels they had captured after Redgrass. Some of them such as Lord Yronwood were pardoned but had some of their lands taken off of them and others such as Lord Shawney were executed for treason and crimes against the crown, and their eldest sons were taken as hostages in King's Landing to ensure that the rest of the house remained loyal to the Iron Throne. Lord Devan Strickland who had fled across the narrow sea with Bittersteel and others like him who had fled with Bittersteel saw their lands confiscated by the crown and given to houses that had remained loyal to the crown during the rebellion. There were problems though with this. Other houses such as House Reyne, House Osgrey, House Sunderland, House Costayne, House Ambrose and House Peake all had members that were either in the north with Daeron Stark, or had members who were married into northern houses. And as the north had declared itself independent- something Maekar hoped to change- there was very little that Maekar's father could actually do to bring those houses to justice.

Furthermore with Baelor a prisoner in Winterfell, there was a need for careful political manoeuvring to ensure his safe release and a settlement that would look favourably for both sides. That was why Maekar was riding north with Bloodraven, even though he did not personally like the man, he could appreciate the fact that his uncle was good at playing the game of politics and manoeuvring, the only thing was that Daeron Stark's uncle was just as good, if not better at playing politics as Bloodraven was, which could make for an interesting meeting. Maekar silently said a prayer to the seven as Moat Cailin came into view that their journey north to Winterfell would be successful and that a peace- no matter how tenuous could be found-. They were greeted at the gates of Moat Cailin- the imposing northern fortress that signalled the entrance to the north- by Artos Stark's son Brandon Stark. Stark was a tall and thickly built man, with broad shoulders and a mop of dark brown hair and piercing grey eyes.

"Welcome Prince Maekar, Lord Brynden. I hope your ride north was comfortable as it could be." Stark said in a voice of iron.

"Thank you, and yes it was fairly pleasant." Bloodraven replied.

"Well then, let us not tarry. I know you must have ridden for a long time. Rest a while here, before venturing north to Winterfell." Stark said, before turning his horse around and trotting back into the keep.

Before the rode in after Stark, Bloodraven rode up next to him and leaned over and whispered in his ear. "Let me do the talking when we reach Winterfell Maekar."

Maekar merely grunted in response and then spurred his horse onward to Moat Cailin. They spent the night at Moat Cailin, refreshing them after a tiring ride north. Brandon Stark was a good host, he was fun and jovial, and had an ease with people that made Maekar slightly jealous, though he tried hard to shake the jealousy off. He spent that night during the feast looking around the hall, and he saw all the faces in the hall regarding himself and Bloodraven with a particular weariness, no they looked at him with a certain weariness, Bloodraven they looked at with thinly disguised hatred and loathing. It made sense Maekar thought, Daemon had been raised in Winterfell before he had come to King's Landing and had won the hearts of the north, and that Bloodraven was his brother and had killed him as well as being a follower of the Old Gods would have seriously angered many in the north. Brandon Stark's father was not at Moat Cailin, though Maekar had expected something of the sort, given that their spies had reported that Daeron had named him High Steward of the North, essentially naming him Hand of the King and making him the second most powerful man in the whole of the north. From the stories that Maekar had heard from his father and great uncle and grandfather of Lord Artos Stark, the man was a fierce warrior and man, with a quick temper and an even quicker wit. A formidable foe and certainly one who could challenge Bloodraven if it came down to it.

The next day, Maekar and Bloodraven rode for Winterfell, accompanied by Brandon Stark and Lord Bowen Reed, Lord of Greywater Watch. They rode in silence for most of the journey, though occasionally Maekar could here Lord Reed talking in hushed tones with Bloodraven, and occasionally speaking with Brandon Stark. They stopped off at various inns along the way to Winterfell, and at each inn Maekar noticed that their party- mainly Bloodraven- drew sideways looks from the locals sitting and drinking, and often the conversations raging on in the inns would stop when either himself or Bloodraven entered the inn, but would resume when Brandon Stark walked in.

A week after leaving Moat Cailin they arrived at Winterfell, the castle was just as imposing as Maekar had heard it to be, the new sigil that Daeron Stark had had created- a grey dragon with its wings and teeth bared combatant with a grey direwolf on a field of ice white- flapping high on the ramparts. Waiting for them in the courtyard was the whole of Winterfell it seemed, Daeron Stark stood tall and proud the ancient crown of winter atop his head, his wife and their son, a thick and burly man with a mop of greying brown hair and thick broad shoulders stood next to Daeron's wife, the man Maekar took to be Artos Stark and his sisters stood next to him. Standing to Daeron's left was a man wearing a grey wolf's helm, grey armour and a grey cloak. So this was Theon Stark, the Lord Commander of Daeron's Winter's Guard. Maekar rode into the courtyard and waited for Bloodraven and Brandon Stark and Lord Reed to arrive before dismounting.

Maekar could feel the tension in the air as he walked towards his old friend, he saw out of the corner of his eye that Theon Stark had his hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it should anything go awry. Maekar stopped in front of his friend, and gave him a long and appraising look, noting the lines on his friend's face and then he broke out into a tired smile and clasped his friend by the hand and shook it firmly. "Daeron it has been too long."

He heard his friend give a wry laugh and heard his reply. "Aye it has Maekar, it has. Come let me introduce you to my family." And he walked down the line and introduced Maekar to his wife Arianne, the babe she held in her arms who had her thick black hair but his friend's deep violet eyes, his uncle Artos, his sisters Barbery who looked so like Maekar's sister Aelinor it took his breath away, and his sister Bethany.

There was only one person missing from the people Maekar had just been introduced to, "Where is the Lady Daena Daeron?"

Maekar regretted asking that question the moment it left his mouth, and yet he could not recall the words and it pained him to see the deep sorrow that appeared on his friend's face as he spoke. "My mother has not been well as of late. She was too ill to attend today; I hope that does not offend?"

Maekar shook his head, no it did not. At a nod from Daeron the rest of the castle dispersed and went back to doing their normal duties, Daeron asked for Maekar and Bloodraven to follow him into the castle. They walked in silence for a long time before they came to a stop in front of two doors, both of which were closed. Daeron turned round and looked at them both, his eyes glinting something fierce when he looked at Bloodraven, but his voice was even and measured when he spoke. "I believe you will be quite tired after your journey here. These two rooms are the rooms where you shall be staying for the duration of your stay. Rest now, tonight there will be a feast, and then tomorrow we shall discuss why you are here." With that Maekar watched his friend walk away from them, his brother a silent shadow behind him.

The afternoon and the evening passed by in a blur. The afternoon was taken up by Maekar and Bloodraven discussing what the best way would be to approach dealing with Daeron, for his friend had seemed so tired and worn down, that perhaps he would be more willing to accept being subject to rule of the Iron Throne if offered the right terms. They also talked about how they had not seen Aemon Blackfyre out in the courtyard, and debated where he could possibly be. The evening was taken up by the feast, Maekar had never truly enjoyed feasts, considering them frivolous and unnecessary, but it seemed that the northerners were up to prove a point by holding the feast. Daeron seemed preoccupied during the feast, seemingly deep in thought, though Maekar could hazard a guess at what he was thinking.

The next day came the day Maekar had been dreading ever since Daemon had fallen at Redgrass. The day in which they would have to try with all their might to get Daeron Stark to accept being subjected back to rule of the Iron Throne. They met in the great hall, with what seemed the whole of the northern court in attendance. Daeron sat on the ancient weirwood throne of the Starks, his wife sat next to him on a similar throne. Guarding the foot of the steps were the men and woman of the Winter's Guard : Lord Commander Theon Stark, Rickard Karstark (Lord Artos's nephew), Willam Stark (Lord Beron Stark's youngest son), Dorren Umber, Beric Dustin, Jeyne Mormont, Derrick Flint, Edrick Strongaxe (a wildling who had grown up in Winterfell) and Devon Marriagestone (a man from the Crofter's village who had fought during the Blackfyre Rebellion who had managed to kill Ser Willem Wylde during the battle of the Whispering Wood). All nine of the Winter's Guard looked imposing and fierce, battle hardened warriors all of them except for the Lord Commander, though if their spies were to believed, many in the north considered Theon Stark to be as good a swordsman as his brother and king.

Artos Stark spoke first. "You have come with terms have you not Prince Maekar, Lord Brynden? We would hear them."

Bloodraven stepped forward and spoke in a clear voice. "We have come here under the instruction of King Daeron Targaryen, second of his name. True king of Westeros and the Seven Kingdoms. We have come to broker a peace with the north, and have the release of His Grace Prince Baelor Targaryen."

There was much muttering amongst the court once Bloodraven had finished speaking, though Daeron did not speak for the longest time. He eventually raised his hand and the chatter immediately stopped. The silence in the room was more deafening then the chatter had been, all were waiting for Daeron to say something. They waited and waited, then just as everyone was thinking that Daeron would not actually say anything he spoke in soft voice, so that they all had to strain to hear what he was saying. "You have come to broker peace have you Lord Brynden? You come to the north, to my home, and say as easy as you like that you wish to broker a peace. What is in this peace for my family, for my people?"

Maekar could feel something inside him beginning to tense; this was not going as expected. But Bloodraven seemed unperturbed by it and spoke confidently. "Why peace Lord Stark. Surely you do not wish to continue waging war and making Westeros bleed, for a line of pretenders and upstarts?"

Maekar nearly cringed internally at the way Bloodraven had spoken, when he looked up at the seat where Daeron sat, his friend gave no outward indication that he was angered by Bloodraven's callous words, but when he spoke, there was a hint of laughter in his voice "Peace? Oh come now Lord Brynden surely you can do better than that? I know you have not come here to talk peace with me. No, Daeron the Good is not one to send two emissaries all the way to the frozen, savage north simply to talk peace. No you want concessions, speak them now or be gone."

There was silence for a moment, then Bloodraven spoke again, a smile on his lips like this was some sort of game. "Very well. You wish to hear the terms, and then you shall. In exchange for peace, his Grace Daeron the Good requires that you come to King's Landing to swear fealty to him, and promise to not raise arms against the Iron Throne ever again. Furthermore, his grace, also wishes for you to hand over the pretender Aemon Blackfyre to be tried by the King's Justice. If you do this then the north shall be pardoned, and Westeros can rebuild and move on."

Daeron was silent once more; though the chatter picked up in the court once again, out the corner of his eye Maekar saw a man with a flayed man on his surcoat begin to move on his feet. He turned his attention back to the throne where his friend sat. Daeron's face looked like it had been carved from stone, his voice sounded like raging thunder when he spoke. "Those are the terms my cousin has sent you here to get me to submit to? Ha, Daeron the Good truly has lost his marbles if he thinks I will submit to that. No, these are the terms: The North and the Iron Islands is one free and independent kingdom, we shall no longer be ruled from King's Landing. Furthermore if my cousin wishes for peace, he will have to promise to pardon Houses Reyne, Costayne, Ambrose, Peake and Osgrey and allow those members of the houses that came with my nephew Aemon back to their homes, and ensure that their houses do not face repercussions for fighting for my brother his grace King Daemon. If Daeron the Good is willing to accept these terms then, he can have his peace and his son back."

Before Bloodraven could say something that worsen their situation, Maekar stepped forward and spoke. "If Your Grace would be so kind as to give us the chance to discuss these terms and speak with you once we have decided what to do we would be most grateful."

Maekar was relieved to see Daeron's eyes soften a little as he granted Maekar's request, and called an end to the council session. Once they were back in the safety of their rooms Maekar and Bloodraven argued deep into the night about what to do. Eventually they reached a decision and the next day asked for a chance to speak with Baelor, which Daeron agreed to. And so it was that Maekar and Bloodraven found them standing in front of Baelor's cell one night talking with the crown prince and heir to Westeros.

"So what terms did Daeron offer you for peace then?" Baelor asked his voice sounding hoarse.

"Recognition of the independence of the kingdom of the North and Iron Islands, and the pardoning of Houses Reyne, Ambrose, Costayne, Peake and Osgrey." Maekar said.

Baelor laughed. "That stinks of Artos Stark, that man is too clever by half. No we cannot accept those terms, it would lead to much rebellion within the rest of the kingdoms, Damon Lannister is already angry with father over the fact that he kept his sons hostage during the rebellion. No Daeron is more reasonable; tell him we shall accept the pardons of the houses he mentioned, nothing more, nothing less. Let him make of that what he will."

"Are you sure that is a wise idea brother, Daeron seemed quite set on getting us to formerly recognise northern independence." Maekar asked.

"Yes, but he has to seem sure otherwise his bannermen will desert him. No get those terms to him on his own and we will have peace." Baelor replied.

The next day Maekar met with Daeron alone in his solar, with only Theon Stark and Jeyne Mormont of the Winter's Guard present in the room. Daeron sounded tired when he spoke. "So you have decided then have you Maekar?"

Maekar hesitated and then went on. "Yes Daeron we have. We will accept the pardoning of House Reyne, House Ambrose, House Costayne, House Peake and House Osgrey in return for peace." He did not mention Aemon Blackfyre, nor did he mention Northern independence and neither did Daeron.

"Very well then. That is that then." Daeron said. "Now let us catch up Maekar, it has been too long old friend."

And so Maekar and Daeron Stark spoke for some time about the past, reminiscing about times spent in King's Landing, and they spoke of Maekar's children and their hopes and worries, and for a moment it felt like the war had never happened, like there was no further possibility of war occurring ever again.

Once they were done talking Maekar left his friend to his thoughts and walked back to his room, as he neared his room though he found Bloodraven speaking to the man he had seen in court a few days ago with the flayed man on his surcoat. The man had pale grey eyes and a pale face, with a whisp of black hair on his head. Bloodraven introduced the man as Lord Horras Bolton.

The man spoke softly though his meaning was clear. "Your Grace, my lord," Horras Bolton said. "Should there ever come a time when House Targaryen becomes fed up with the Starks, know that House Bolton will always be loyal to you and will stand by you no matter what you do." With that he walked away, leaving Maekar with a strange feeling in his gut.

Three days later Maekar, Bloodraven and Baelor set out for King's Landing riding not with their full mission accomplished but with something at least done and some sort of peace achieved. Though the words Horras Bolton had uttered to him and Bloodraven kept echoing in his head, and he had a strange feeling that trouble would come to the north very soon.

Aemon Blackfyre

The north was much different to the south that much Aemon Blackfyre knew. The weather was colder, the people harder and much tougher. That was not to say that the people were not kind, oh no, they were extremely kind towards him. There was always someone on hand to help him with his work, or to point him in the right direction when he was lost or needed to get something. Whether that was because the people of the north were generally being kind toward him, or if it was because he was Daemon Blackfyre's son, or because he was Daeron Stark's nephew he did not know, nor did he truly care. With his mother and other siblings away across the narrow sea in Tyrosh, so long as he knew there were people there to look out for him he was happy.

He still had difficulty truly believing that his father and his brother- his twin- were dead. There were still times at night where he woke up sweating and panting because he had had a nightmare where he had relived seeing his brother being killed by an arrow through the throat, and then he remembered seeing his father being struck by the arrows that would eventually bring him down to death's cold embrace. When he had been told that Maekar Targaryen and Brynden Rivers were coming to Winterfell to discuss peace terms with his uncle Daeron, he had been furious. Why should those two men who had been responsible for his father's death, for his family fleeing into exile come to the north and come and demand that his uncle submit himself and his family to the rule of the mad man on the throne. The man who had let the Dornish snakes corrupt his court.

He had voiced these thoughts once at a meal before the Targaryen envoys had come to Winterfell, and after an awkward silence his uncle had simply told him that he would not be allowed to be in Winterfell whilst they were here. Instead he would be staying with his other uncle Cregan Stark, at his uncle's holdfast a day's ride away from Winterfell. And so he rode there and stayed and brooded and thought about ways in which he could avenge his father and his brother, and make it so that his family could come back to Westeros and live in King's Landing the city that was rightfully theirs, in fact the whole continent was rightfully theirs, from the Wall down to Dorne. It was whilst he was in his uncle Cregan's holdfast waiting for the Targaryen envoys to go that he swore a vow in front of the godswood on his father and brother's memory that he would avenge them and ensure that House Blackfyre won the Iron Throne, even if he died in the effort. He swore that he would avenge them and get justice for them.

Also whilst he waited for the Targaryens to go back south, Aemon spent sometime with his grandmother, Daena Targaryen had been a source of legend when Aemon had been growing up with his brothers and sisters in the south. It was clear that from the stories that his father told, that Daena Targaryen- now Stark- was someone that Aemon's father Daemon truly loved and deeply respected, another such person was Willam Stark. Aemon's father had told his children countless stories of their grandmother's bravery and courage and strength, and how she had fought to get what she wanted, and had married the man she had loved. The Daena Stark that Aemon met after the rebellion had been crushed was not the same woman that Aemon had grown up hearing about in the stories his father had told him. She seemed to be a pale husk of the woman she had been, the fire seemed to have gone out of her eyes and she seemed to be wandering around like a ghost in human form. Aemon had mentioned this to his uncle Cregan, and his uncle had merely said that Aemon's grandmother had experienced a great deal of pain and loss in the last few years and that it was time for her to rest. Aemon had not truly understood what his uncle had meant by that, though he had thought it had made sense.

Once the Targaryen envoys had gone back south, Aemon had been allowed to return to Winterfell. His training under his uncle Daeron on how to be a fair and just king, his lessons with Maester Reyne and his sword practice with master of arms Steffon Cassel resumed, but with a much more frenetic and specific pace. It was almost as if his uncle Daeron was preparing him for an upcoming battle or war. Though Aemon was not sure when or where this war would be, but he promised himself that for his father, for his brother, for his uncle and for his family he would be ready for it when it came.

Furthermore, as he grew older and wiser, Aemon found he was growing fonder of his uncle Daeron's younger sister Barbery. Barbery had her mother's Targaryen features, and was exceptionally beautiful. Aemon found himself enamoured with her, and did all he could to try and impress her and be the best man he could for her. He knew that she had been born roughly round the same time as himself and Aegon, and that his uncle Daeron would likely start looking for some lord or some lord's son for his sister to wed, and Aemon was determined to prove himself worthy of her hand. And so he spent days and weeks courting her, listening to her talk about what she wished for herself in life, and what she liked to do and what she didn't like to do. He told her a little about what he himself wished to do, though he kept the more intimate details of his dreams to herself- girls did not like talk of war or conquest- and slowly but surely he began to think that she liked him almost as much as he liked her. And so when he asked her for her hand and she accepted he was over the moon, and then when he asked his uncle for permission to marry Barbery and King Daeron accepted, Aemon was the happiest he had been for a long time.

They were wed in the godswood in Winterfell in front of the Heart Tree with the whole of the north in attendance; anyone of importance was present at their wedding. And Aemon thought that he had never seen his grandmother look happier during his time at Winterfell then she had during that day. Though there seemed to be something that was bothering his uncle Daeron, for his uncle seemed preoccupied and Aemon saw him constantly talking to Lord Artos Stark and Lord Beron Stark as well as Aemon's other Uncle Cregan Stark. All three men had similarly grim and concerned looks on their faces, which Aemon knew could not be to do with the wedding, but as it was his wedding he did not bother himself with it overtly much and spent the rest of the night and most of the next morning fully enjoying the company of his wife.

A year later, Aemon's grandmother Lady Daena Stark- she who was known as Daena the Defiant- died in her sleep, and was cremated as per the Targaryen tradition, and her ashes were laid to rest in a crypt that King Daeron Stark had had made built for his mother, next to his father lord Willam Stark.

A somber atmosphere engulfed Winterfell for much of the next month after Aemon's grandmother was cremated, only to be broken when Barbery told him one fine summer's day that she was with child. There was a celebration feast held and Aemon and Barbery were the focus of the feast, and even Aemon's uncle who had seemed distant and preoccupied since the death of his mother seemed to be happy with the news, and seemed much more engaged with events then he had been at Aemon's wedding. Things between King Daeron and his wife Arianne seemed much improved as well, they were talking and holding hands and doing all the things that Aemon had not seen them do since his wedding.

The joyous atmosphere in Winterfell lasted for a week before Aemon was summoned to his uncle's solar one cloudy day, and found himself in a room with his uncle Daeron, his uncle Cregan, his uncle Lord Commander Theon Stark and Lords Artos and Beron Stark. The expression on his uncle Daeron's face was grim and resigned. "Lord Horras Bolton has called his banners and has declared rebellion in the north. Lord Gorne Magnar has also called for rebellion in Skagos." Aemon was shocked, though from the expression on his uncles' faces it seemed that they were not.

King Daeron Stark went on. "You shall be coming with myself and Theon when we march on the Dreadfort to deal with Lord Horras. Uncle Artos and Uncle Beron will take some of the northern army and sail for Skagos. We shall end these rebellions before they can begin."

Aemon briefly felt like the wind had been knocked out of him before he remembered something his younger brother Daemon had said long ago, before the rebellion. " The Flayed man and the grey dragon shall war, and you shall be the one to end it."

It was time to prove he was the king Westeros deserved.