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Sitting around the small fire that was burning lowly to not burn the pieces of meat that were skewered above it, Jon Snow—no, Jon Stark—watched as the fire danced across the wood. The flames were almost…mesmerizing. The way they danced across the wood, feeding on it. The way it flowed with the wind. It was almost…beautiful in a way.
"Ah, hells! Everywhere I turn there is another fucking root trying to work its way up my ass! Why can't we sleep in the wagon? Or better yet just leave the blasted thing behind and make for Riverrun. We can't be more than a day's ride at best from the blasted place."
Breaking his gaze away from the flames and the cooking meat, Jon spared a glance towards Theon, Robb, Samwell and their newest addition Gendry, the blacksmith's apprentice that Master Nox had collected as a potential acolyte back in King's Landing. The smith was quiet, even more so than Jon if that was possible. And he was clearly uncertain about his place amongst them. But that had changed quickly into their journey as Robb, showing just how capable of a Lord he would be, was able to invite the timid blacksmith's apprentice and helped him get over his nerves about sharing space with nobles.
"Because, with the size of your head, Theon, you're liable to break the wagon again," Robb joked, earning a few chuckles out of Sam and Jon and a cross look from Theon.
"Very funny, Stark," Theon growled as he sat back down on the ground, trying to find a place to get comfortable. "I still don't understand why she or the other one gets to ride in the wagon, while we lords and heirs don't."
"Because she is a woman, Lord Greyjoy, and a mother of an infant daughter," Gendry answered quietly. "It is the honorable action to take. Letting her ride in the wagon over yourself. And she is watching over Lady Shireen as well as the other young girl under Lord Nox's protection. If you want to be known as the one that forced the daughter of Lord Stannis Baratheon to ride a horse just so he could sit in comfort…That is up to you."
"Not her," Theon scowled. "I'm talking about the other ones. The whore and the girl."
"That girl has a name, Anna. She has been through hell worse than any you can imagine. And Mhaegen? She's not a whore, Greyjoy," Jon shot back, staring hard at Theon. "Not anymore. And admit it, the real reason you're so upset is simply because you've finally met a woman who won't take your coin so you can get between her legs."
Scoffing, Theon waved him off. "At least I can get between a woman's legs, Sno – Stark."
"Gods, let's not rehash this discussion," Robb sighed, rubbing at his head. In a rather blatant attempt to change the conversation to something more pleasant, he turned to their as-yet-silent companion. "Sam, any further ideas about the moving wagons and the tracks to carry them for the North? The King and my father are both watching this project with interest. And I want as much planned out as possible before we reach Winterfell."
The plan his brother was talking about was one that Robb, Sam, and Lord Nox had devised during the Inventors Fair and just before Lord Nox's wedding. The idea was to use self-moving wagons that would travel along tracks to cross great distances at a rate of travel that could outpace even the fastest of horses. The idea was…ambitious. And one that the North could not do on its own even with its newly acquired wealth from Valyria. Well, not unless they wanted to sell off every Valyrian blade to any noble that was willing to buy them of course. So, before they'd left King's Landing, Samwell had laid out the plan before the King with Robb, their father, and Lord Nox by his. The Hand of the King, Lord Jon Arryn, had seemed intrigued by the idea as had a few other members of the Small Council, but the King…well…it was difficult for Jon to get a read on the man. He seemed interested, but purely because it was something new and interesting. Other than that, King Robert honestly didn't seem to care. But, in the end, the King had declared that the crown would help to support this project in the North, provided that if it worked out as well as intended, then the plans would be sent throughout the rest of the Seven Kingdoms.
The Master of Coin Lord Baelish, a man that had set Jon's teeth on edge though for the life of him he couldn't figure out why, had stated that it would be difficult for the crown to find the appropriate funds for such a project. King Robert though had simply brushed aside the concern and declared that effective immediately that a third of the funds that were designated to the Citadel from the crown would hereby be redirected to the Winterfell College to help fund not only the College, but also the Railway Project, as Lord Nox had taken to calling it.
And every night since they'd acquired the King's blessing, Robb and Sam had been hard at work hammering out as many details surrounding the project as they could. Jon offered his own insights on occasions when asked, as did Theon though his was fewer and farther between than Jon's. Surprisingly, or perhaps not when one looked at it, the greatest contributions came from Gendry, who's time in the forge had given him a rather unique perspective that none of them had. And now Gendry was a regular part of their discussions about the railway.
Cracking his neck, Jon got to his feet and quietly shuffled away from his brother and friends and made his way a short distance away from the camp towards the nearby forest so that he could have some quiet. Entering the tree line just enough so that he was out of earshot but still within sight of the camp, Jon sank to his knees and pulled out the talisman from Valyria that aided him in controlling not only dragonfire, but also wildfire as well. Closing his eyes, he sank into a light meditation as he allowed the Force to fill him before guiding it towards the talisman in his hands. He was close, so very close to figuring out the secret behind the talisman. So close to taking that last crucial step towards the completion of the task his Master had assigned to him that he could almost taste it. The…Force matrix he believed Master Nox called it, within the talisman was incredibly complex. But after watching his father, Lord Nox, and Lord Stannis using the large map of King's Landing to mark out wildfire caches he was struck with an epiphany. The matrix was just like the map of the city. He just needed to memorize the map and replicate it. Though that was proving exceedingly difficult as the map was not something one could see and existed only in the Force. But the revelation still aided him in revealing the secret behind replicating the talisman.
Feeling a familiar presence approaching him, Jon's concentration fled as he opened his eyes and stood just as his father, for Lord Stark would always be his father, entered the tree line with him. "Son," Lord Stark called out as Jon turned around.
"I'm fine, father," he answered. "Just needed some quiet for a little while."
His father nodded in understanding as his eyes fell upon the gold talisman in Jon's hands. "Have you made any progress on your task?"
Lord Stark knew of the task that'd been assigned to him by Master Nox. But with his father's limited Force capabilities, he understood very little of just what the task entailed outside of the fact that he was trying to create a duplicate of the relic from Valyria. "Some, I believe that I'm close to figuring it out. I just…It's so close I feel like I can reach out and touch it. Yet it escapes me whenever I try and do so."
"You'll figure it out, Jon. You're a smarter man than most." his father said, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.
Jon felt his confidence and mood lift at hearing the rare praise from his father. It wasn't that he didn't praise any of his children or Jon. But he did so sparingly, making receiving said praises more meaningful. "Thank you, father. But the relic isn't what you wanted to speak to me about, is it?"
"No," his father responded, shaking his head as a spike of regret rolled off him. "Tomorrow, we will be arriving in Riverrun and see to my Lady wife's final resting amongst her family. And –"
"You don't have to ask, father," Jon said, cutting his father off, "Lady Stark…I knew her feelings well when she thought I was…Even if at the end those feelings faded, I – I won't cause more problems with my presence in her childhood home. Especially tomorrow while she is being laid to rest in the Trident."
His father lowered his head, unable or unwilling to meet his eyes. "You're a better man than most, Jon. And one that I am proud to call my son. Now come, you've been gone far longer than you perhaps realize, and your absence has been a cause for concern for your brother."
Following his father back to the makeshift camp, Jon was surprised to find that his father had been speaking the truth about how long he'd been gone as just about everyone, including Robb, had already long since found a bedroll for the night save for the few that were on watch.
"I'll aid in the first watch," he volunteered as he and his father reached one of the few tents that'd been set up.
Lord Stark stopped just before the tent flap and gave him a once over and nodded. "Aye, you look like you still have a few hours left in you. Very well, wake Gendry as your replacement when you need rest."
"I will, father," Jon nodded as his father gave him one last look before ducking into his tent and letting the flap close behind him.
Alone once more, Jon walked across the camp to another low burning fire where his Master was kneeling and sitting perfectly still. Knowing that his Master was more than likely in a meditative trance, Jon stopped a few paces behind Lord Nox and knelt in a similar fashion and waited for his Master to acknowledge his presence. When Jon had first started his tutelage under Master Nox, he'd made the mistake of interrupting his Master's meditation only once. In response his Master had proceeded to…teach him a lesson that Jon would not wish upon even his enemies. And since that day, Jon had always made sure never to interrupt his Master when he was meditating.
For a time, the two just sat in silence with the only noise coming from the burning branches before them and the wilderness surrounding them. "What is it, Apprentice?"
"Master," Jon replied immediately, slightly startled as his Master hadn't shifted even a single muscle before calling out to him. "I've been meaning to speak with you regarding the…dreams I had during our return from Valyria."
That got his Master's attention as he motioned for Jon to join him beside the fire and turned so that the two would be face to face. "I take it that the dreams have returned?"
"Yes, Master," he nodded, settling in next to his Master. "When we were sailing to Oldtown from the North I had another dream of her. So, I did as you suggested and…talked to the young woman in my dreams. And she, she responded. Her name is Dany, though I do not believe that is her full name. We didn't have a chance to say much to one another before I was awakened. But I've seen her in my dreams twice on our way from Oldtown to King's Landing and once more since. Each time we talk, nothing important but, it's so real. And the last dream I had we – we reached out for one another and – and I swear I could feel the heat of her hand. But before we could touch, I was awoken once more."
Master Nox's face betrayed nothing as his Master scratched at his short cut beard. "Interesting. Lean forward."
Knowing better than to question his Master, Jon leaned forward slightly, giving his Master a better angle as he placed the tips of his fingers on either side of Jon's head. Jon could feel his Master do something through the Force, but whatever he was doing was far beyond Jon's understanding. The sensation lasted only a moment, and when it passed his Master rocked back and lowered his hands, a grin spread across his face. "Well…isn't that interesting."
Blinking, Jon stared up at his Master, hoping that he had some answers for him. "What is, Master?"
"This bond you share with this young, this 'Dany', it is a unique and incredibly rare type of bond. It's so rare that it's almost to the point of being mythological even amongst my people. You two are a dyad in the Force," his Master stated before turning his attention towards the fire and speaking his thoughts out loud. "Such a rare phenomenon. And to occur in two so young. And without ever being in contact with one another. No. There was contact. Brief as it might've you two did have contact. Was that enough for the dyad to form? It must've been…Could this have occurred if you had not? Possibly. But then…no, perhaps not… Curious, very curious."
Biting his lip, Jon waited as his Master continued giving voice to his thoughts, most of which went completely over his head. "Um, Master?" Jon asked hesitantly. "What is a – a 'dyad in the Force'?"
"A very rare form of Force bond," Master Nox answered, turning his attention back to Jon. "Most Force bonds, like those between and Master and their Apprentice, give the two a connection but they remain separate. When a Force dyad bond occurs though, the bonded pair share a single presence, making the two one in the Force. And as such, the power of both involved is increased drastically. It is said that the power of a dyad is as strong as life itself. And more than that, your minds are now linked across space and time. No matter the distance that separates the two of you, you two will always be able to speak with one another. It's a mutualistic symbiotic relationship. The true abilities of a Force dyad have never fully been explored, but it is has been theorized that the connection between the two could be potent enough that the two could pass physical items to one another through the aether of the Force."
Jon could hardly form a proper response as his Master laid what was happening between himself and this 'Dany' woman…whoever she was. But as the full implication of what was happening settled in on him, he had a flash of dark hair and sun-kissed skin. "Does, does this mean that she's my…intended or – or soul mate?"
Despite not having eyes to convey the message, Jon could feel his Master gaze at him with a look that made him feel like an idiot for even asking the question. "No. This isn't some second-rate romance story that your sister loves to hear about. There is a chance that such a relationship could occur, but it is not an absolute. Despite being one in the Force, you are still two separate individuals with your own minds, hearts and desires. It's far more likely that this dyad between you two formed on the will of the Force. Which means that the Force has intentions for both of you…intentions that may require you two to work in tandem even if you never again meet face to face. Interesting…"
Trailing off, Master Nox turned his attention away from Jon and off into the darkness of the night. "You've given me much to ponder, Apprentice," Master Nox stated, rising to his feet. "Though I'm sure you're just as confused as I, perhaps more so. Take this time and meditate on what you've learned. And I will do the same. A dyad is something that I have only ever read and theorized about, Apprentice. It will take the both of us to navigate through this. Well, three now."
Watching Master Nox retreat from the fire, Jon found himself filled with far more questions now than he had before. He was bonded to this 'Dany' woman. A woman he'd only met once before on pure accident. They shared a deep connection in the Force that made them as 'one' in the Force, yet they remained separate. Separate bodies, hearts and minds. Which honestly made next to no sense to him. How could they be 'one' yet 'not one' at the same time? And worse yet, Master Nox, his primary source of knowledge, was just as baffled.
"No sense in waking Gendry up," Jon huffed, rising to his feet and brushing the dirt off his leggings. "I doubt that I'll be able to get any sleep for the foreseeable future. Not with all of this going on."
Standing beside his son, his good father Hoster Tully, his brother by marriage Edmure Tully and Ser Brynden Tully on one of the docks jutting off from the south side of Riverrun that overlooked the Red Fork, Ned Stark calmly and quietly took a large bag containing half the ashes belonging to his son Rickon and his wife Catelyn from the Blackfish and approached the end of the dock. After the funeral in Winterfell, the ashes of his late son and wife were split in half. One of which was placed in the catacombs beneath Winterfell. And the other half was brought back to Riverrun by Ser Brynden so that at least part of his wife and son could rest in the rivers of the Trident like their ancestors before them.
Reaching the water's edge, Ned knelt and slowly let the ashes fall from the bag and into the rushing waters of the Red Fork. 'Goodbye, my son. Goodbye, my love,' he thought as the last of the ashes fell from the bag and he rose back to his feet. 'May you both find peace with the gods until the day we are reunited.'
Turning around, he found himself looking at those who had gathered on the dock with him. His son was holding himself up well, but Ned could see and feel the sadness that was threatening to break free from within him. Edmure was trying to put on a strong face, but it was cracking as tears formed in the corners of his eyes and fell freely down his face. Brynden was as stone-faced as normal. And Hoster, well, the Lord of Riverrun was an enigma to Ned. He was completely void. No emotion. No tears. Nothing. It was the same look and feel the man had had when Ned and the Northern contingent arrived the day prior. And it was the same feeling he'd had throughout the day today. 'The man's daughter and grandson are dead. And he feels nothing.' Ned frowned as he placed a comforting hand on his son's shoulder.
"Lord Stark, we need to talk in my solar. Now."
The words were surprising, not just because it was perhaps the longest string of words Hoster had spoken to him since arriving. But because of the, well, urgency in them. Nodding to the request, Ned motioned for Robb to follow them. A curtesy that Hoster did not extend to his own son and heir he noted as the Lord of Riverrun led them back into the ancestral home of House Tully. Not a single word was spoken between the three of them. And even after they entered Hoster's solar and sealed themselves within, the three stayed quiet until Hoster sat down. "Your boy does not need to be present for this talk, Lord Stark."
Ned, whose emotions were already on edge, teetered on the brink of losing control. "Robb is my son and heir, the future Lord of Winterfell and your grandson, Lord Tully," Ned replied evenly, already knowing that whatever was about to be discussed would not be pleasant. "Whatever words you have for me, you can say before Robb."
Hoster's eyes passed over Robb quickly before settling back in on Ned. "Very well. I would know when you plan on sending your bastard boy to the Night's Watch or exiling him across the Narrow Sea."
Ned was sent reeling by the direct question. So much so that the only response he could come up with was a distorted. "What?"
"You heard me Eddard," Hoster said, his eyes narrowing. "My daughter allowed that…stain to live in Winterfell as he grew because you asked it of her. But she was far from pleased with your insistence on raising him in her home. The only reason I did not press the issue was because he was a bastard and had no right to Winterfell over my daughter's children. But now he is legitimized by the King, something you should not have allowed let alone encouraged. How long until he seeks to take that which is not his?"
Ned's shock wore off quickly, replaced by a burning anger he had not felt since before the start of the Rebellion. "Jon is my son," Ned growled lowly. "He has my blood and my name. If he chooses the Wall or to travel to Essos, I will not stop him from leaving. But I will not force the decision upon him."
Hoster was clearly not pleased with the answer. "And how long until his true nature shows itself? Legitimized or no, the boy is still a bastard. And bastards are all the same."
"Jon is not a bastard!" Robb shouted, taking a step forward towards Hoster before seemingly catching himself. "He – Jon is not a bastard, grandfather. He is a true Stark. He is my brother. Perhaps not by way of my lady mother, but he is still my brother by blood and choice. I trust him above all others. If you had even a moment to learn about him, the first thing you would learn would be that he would rather kill himself than bring any harm to myself or our siblings. And as for my mother…I loved her. But I was not blind to her faults, particularly when it came to Jon. But in the end, she changed grandfather. I was there with her at the end. Do you know what some of her last words were? With her life fading, she begged Jon's forgiveness for her not being able to love a motherless boy. Jon could've thrown it back in her face, but he didn't. He told her that he understood and forgave her. So, if Jon wishes to remain in Winterfell, I will do everything in my power and future power to make sure he has a place by my hearth and home."
Ned released the breath he didn't even realize he was holding. His son had just come dangerously close to letting loose a secret that could spell doom for all of them. But, thankfully, he managed to recover himself and fix his near slip. Fortunately, Hoster didn't seem to realize the near slip either as the old Lord of Riverrun just stared hard at Robb.
"Bastards do not change, boy. They only grow bolder when you give them a taste of what they could have. I pray you learn this lesson before more tragedy strikes," Hoster responded harshly before turning back to Ned. "I'm also having my daughter's old chambers prepared. I will have a Septa sent back to the North with you to take over the education of my granddaughters until they arrive."
Ned was again sent onto the back foot as Hoster near blindsided him. 'Did Sansa make these arrangements while I was away…? No, she wouldn't have done so. Not now, at least.' "I was unaware that my daughters would be coming to foster here at Riverrun. Nor have I requested a replacement for Septa Mordane."
"I preempted the decision Eddard," Hoster said coldly, his eyes narrowing at Ned. "Their mother, my daughter, is dead. As is the one sent to teach them how to become future ladies of the realm worthy of their station. I will foster both here in Riverrun and when the time comes arrange for good matches for you to consider for their hands."
Furious didn't even come close to explaining Ned's current state of mind as he stared dazedly at his good father. "You mean to take my daughters away from me?!"
"I mean to see them raised right!" Hoster shouted, slamming his hand on his desk and rising to his feet in anger. "The history of the Starks does not bode well on the raising of daughters! Or lest you forget your own sister? From the letters I received from my daughter, you've done a shit job of raising proper daughters. Well, Sansa sounds like a true lady, even if what Brynden has told me is true of her sudden interest in learning that foul magic of your accursed pet sorcerer. But Arya? She is far from a lady and a true reflection of your inability to raise a woman properly! You will send them both to me! And I will ensure that those girls are raised right and know their proper place as future Ladies of the Realm. And, unlike you, Stark, I am not afraid to use the back of my hand to make sure that the girls learn thei—"
Ned's anger boiled over at hearing Hoster tell him—not ask—tell him that he was going to take his daughters away from him and raise them. Feeling a rushing sensation flowing through him, Ned threw out his hand, palm out, and pointed towards Hoster. The Lord of Riverrun had only a moment to widen his eyes in surprise as he was thrown off his feet and back into the bookshelves behind him. The shelves broke under the force of the impact, sending all the books and other trinkets that were placed on the shelves crashing down to the floor along with Hoster Tully.
The guards stationed outside the door immediately burst into the room, their swords halfway out of their sheaths as they did. But as fast as they were, Ned was proud to see that his son was faster. Before anyone could even move beyond opening the door, Robb reached out with his hand and made a pulling motion. All the guards lurched forward, hands desperately grasping for the swords that were suddenly flying out of their reach and flying across the room. His son immediately flowed the motion up by using his off hand and making a pushing motion and pushed the guards with the Force clear out of the room and out into the hall.
Ned turned to stand with his son, but before either could move or before the guards could recover, a loud hard voice brought everyone to a halt. "What in the name of all Seven hells is going on here!"
Ned saw Robb and the guards on the floor stiffen and refuse to move as the Blackfish stormed down the hall towards them. The veteran of House Tully took one look at the guards laid out on the ground and one look into the room at the destruction which started the commotion and shook his head. "Alright, Lord Stark, what did my brother do to bring about this?"
"Lord Tully informed me that he would be taking my daughters and fostering them here at Riverrun without my consent," Ned informed the Blackfish calmly, far more calmly than he truly felt. "He then insinuated that he would turn my daughters into 'true ladies of the realm.' By force, if need be."
Ned could hear the Blackfish mutter something, but Ned didn't care what it was as the man made no move to call for more guards nor had his hands move towards the sword at his waist. Walking carefully around the destruction within the room, Ned squatted down next to the still recovering Lord Tully. The man's eyes and face were both red with rage as he glared up at Ned. A look that would have at one time had Ned cowering, but now did absolutely nothing.
"There was a time when you frightened me, Lord Tully. But no longer. You are not a man to be feared, but a sniveling coward who thinks he knows what is best for everyone and damns anyone else's opinion." Ned informed Lord Tully calmly. "I married your daughter to honor the agreement between our Houses and to gain the allegiance of the Riverlands against the Mad King. An allegiance you held hostage pending on not only my own marriage, but on the marriage of your second daughter to Jon Arryn as well. Even if I did not know or even love Cat when I married her, love eventually did come between us despite our disagreements. And it is only because of the love that I hold for your daughter and the fact that my children share blood with you that I shall take this no further unless you press the issue."
Hoster sneered up at him, "those girls are of House Tully! And in the name of the Seven I will see them raise as is proper just like what their mother would have want-"
"You have no idea what Cat would want for her girls, Hoster," Ned said. The lack of the old man's title being a deliberate slight on Ned's part. Just as Hoster's lack of title for Ned. "Sansa and Arya may be of House Tully. But they are firstly of House Stark. They are wolves of the North. And when the cold winds blow and the snows rise, the pack weathers what storms may come and survives. You'd best remember that Hoster. For winter is coming. And only a fool makes enemies of family when it arrives."
Rising, Ned purposefully turned his back on the downed Lord of the Riverlands and motioned for Robb to follow him. "We're leaving. Now."
Robb nodded, his eyes holding much the same anger as Ned, but also no small amount of surprise at what had just transpired. The Blackfish didn't look surprised, neither by the attack nor by Ned's decision to leave Riverrun immediately.
"Might be for the best, Lord Stark," the Blackfish nodded sadly as he cast a glance at his still downed brother and Lord. "I'll send some boys to ready the rest of your men and those with you."
"Thank you," Ned responded, leaving the Blackfish to deal with Hoster as he and Robb made their way away from the Lord of the Riverlands.
Once they were well beyond hearing, Robb stepped in close to him and talked lowly so only the two of them could hear his words. "Father…was that…wise?"
"More than likely not," Ned answered honestly, feeling the wolf within him calm slightly despite the fact it was still pacing and hungry for blood. "But Hoster and I…Our history is complicated, at best. One that I will tell you in time when I am of the right mind to do so. For now, let us get our men and horses together and ride North, for I doubt that Lord Tully will be of the mind to host us for much longer after what just transpired."
Walking across one of the many stone bridges that connected the various towers of Pyke to one another, Asha Greyjoy took a moment to pause and stare down at the sea breaking against the rocks far beneath. For the past six years, she had been waiting for this moment, the moment when she would once again set foot into her family's home. Yet now that she was here, all that she felt was cold. And she found herself missing the warmth that was Winterfell. Not the weather. Gods no. There was more than once during the previous winter that she was sure the air was cold enough to freeze her nipples right off her tits. But despite the coldness of the air, Winterfell had always held a warmth within it's walls. The warmth of family.
Even though she was a hostage to keep her father in line, Lord Stark had extended that warmth upon her. Lord Nox had taken her under his wing and had even taught her a few tricks and trusted her. And when the time had come for her to leave Winterfell, Lord Stark had gifted her with a ship for her service to the North and had embraced her as his daughter, even if they did not share blood.
What had she gotten thus far upon her return to Pyke, her home? An empty dock with a single message telling her to return to the keep immediately and report to her father. None of her uncles were present. There was no escort. There was no one present. She was left to make the trek up to her father's rooms alone without even a single token fucking guard. Though, in truth, she shouldn't have been surprised. This was the way of the Ironborn. They were not weak people that needed coddling or someone to hold their hand to walk through a keep. But even with knowing that, the sting of her family's absence would not go away.
Making her way to the lord's chambers, Asha didn't bother to knock or announce herself as she marched right past her father's guard and flung open the doors to the Greyjoy family's private dining chambers. Within she found her father and her uncles Victarion and Aeron. Euron was not present, not that she expected him to be. Even in Winterfell, she'd heard of her Uncle's actions which led him to be exiled. Of how her Uncle Euron had raped Victarion's salt wife, getting her with child. And how her Uncle Victarion beat his wife to death when he found out. And then how her father, in a rare instance of showing reverence to the gods, exiled her Uncle Euron to prevent kinslaying from occurring in his hall. The story made her disgusted to think that she shared blood with any of them.
"Father, uncles," Asha greeted the three men as she calmly sat down at the family table, grabbing a plate of food and a cup of strong wine as she did so.
"Daughter," was the only response she got as her father drained the entirely of his glass before refilling it.
Time had not been kind of her father during her time as a hostage in the North. Where Eddard Stark and Alim Nox had both aged like fine strong wine that just demanded to be drank, her father had aged like sour milk left out in the sun. His face was gaunt and his hair patchy and grey. And the scar across his face, one the many that'd been left on him after crossing Nox and the Iron Throne, still looked as if it were still trying to heal even after years. Her uncle Aeron had not aged well either, though that was truly hard to tell as it looked like his hair and beard had not seen a sheer since before her father's failed rebellion. Her uncle Victarion on the other hand had not changed much at all save for a slight greying of his hair at his temples.
No further words were spoken until her father had finished off his third glass of whatever piss-water he was drinking. "I half expected you to return in some fancy greenlander dress and made up like the greenlander whores that prance around thinking they are better than us. At least the bloody stag-fucking-wolves didn't corrupt you that much."
Asha's hand tightened almost involuntarily at the insult to the Starks, but she would not say anything. Not yet at least. "I am no greenlander whore who dances in pretty dresses, father," Asha countered, picking up her wine and finishing it in a single pull before slamming the cup down on the table. "My will is of iron. My blood runs with the salt of the ocean. I am no greenlander."
"Perhaps," her father growled. "But you are still a failure. I see no child with you. And now I hear the sorcerer has found a northern cunt to fuck. You had one simple task, lure the sorcerer to your bed, steal his seed and bare his child that would be raised a kraken to take our revenge. And you have failed. Failed at the most basic expectations as a woman. Pathetic."
The cup in her hand cracked then shattered as she sat there, listening to her father. Her father didn't look impressed by the display, but she could tell that both her uncles were mildly impressed. The accusation hurt, but what hurt more was that in a twisted way he was right. Early in her time at Winterfell she had tried to seduce Nox, but those attempts had failed miserably. Then Nox began his relationship with Nyra and, after getting to know the woman well, she did not have the heart to try and separate the two. Though she would join the two of them should the offer ever come about.
"The sorcerer's will is far greater than other men. He is not so easily swayed by a pretty face, a tight cunt, or a nice set of tits. And I may not have shared his bed, but I do have the sorcerer's confidence. After all, he did choose me to sail the greatest ship ever built into the waters of Valyria in order to raid the lost city of Valyria." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. Well, not all of them. But definitely the part about the Sea Wolf.
"The 'greatest ship', ha. It's nothing more than an oversized piece of shit built by shitty Northern hands," her father scoffed. "But as for Valyria… There might be something to salvage from your failure if you can draw charts to replicate the exact path you took to reach the Valyrian Freehold."
At this, Asha broke the eye contact she'd been maintaining with her father so far. "Such a thing is impossible," Asha said before meeting her father's eyes once more and pressing on before he could say anything. "The land is covered in constant darkness and a fog that is choking like a slow acting poison. There are hundreds of waterways that lead from the sea, each of which is filled with wrecked ships who tried unsuccessfully to navigate the channels only to end up lost. Then there are the creatures in the sea. Slugs that chew through wood and flesh with impunity. Sea turtles the size of ships and the Drown God only knows how many other creatures that want to make a meal out of you. And those are just the ones in the water. Going by land is worse. But even they cannot compare to the…presence of the place. The land itself is almost…alive. And it does not like visitors. The only reason we were successful in getting in and out in the first place was because of Nox and Jon. A voyage without both giving their aid is suicide."
"Is that fear? Or greenlander cowardice I hear from you, daughter?" her father asked snidely. "A true Ironborn does not fear that which calls the sea home."
"It is not fear, nor cowardice, to knowingly and willingly avoid certain death, father." Asha pressed. "And a venture to Valyria without Nox or Jon is certain death."
"Jon…Stark's bastard boy, the sorcerer's 'apprentice'." her Uncle Aeron stated rather than asked.
"Aye," Asha nodded, not liking the look of contempt in her father's eye as he too made the connection.
"Another failure daughter," Balon sneered. "You couldn't tempt the sorcerer. And you couldn't bed a boy whose balls haven't dropped. Your usefulness is starting to fade."
Thoughts of being with Jon were…well, complicated. She wouldn't deny that the young boy she had watched grow had started turning into quite the fetching young man that any woman would be a fool not to chase after. Hells, she'd even been tempted. But on the other hand, he was almost as much her brother as Theon. Thus, the thought of bedding him both excited her and turned her stomach. Not to mention that, unless she severely misread the signs, there was another who had their sights set firmly on Jon and his cock. And the last thing she wanted to do was piss off a Dornish princess.
"The ship you returned with," her Uncle Victarion spoke, turning the conversation. "It is not a Northern vessel. Nor is it of the Ironborn."
"No," Asha confirmed. "It belonged to a pirate in the Stepstones. But now the Black Wind belongs to me."
"After the wolf gifted it to you," her father countered with a hard look.
"I paid the price for the Black Wind," Asha countered back, knuckling the table and rising to her feet to stare down at her father. "I killed her previous crew. I killed her previous captain. I paid the iron price. She is mine!"
Her father just smirked that irritating smirk of his as he leaned back in his chair and made a motion which sent one of the guards scurrying out of the room. "The ship is not yours. Not yet. Your time amongst the greenlanders has made you forget most of our ways. Just having a ship does not make you a captain in the eyes of the Ironborn. And until you are, the ship is mine to decide what to do with. Just as you are, daughter."
Asha did not like the way her father had said that, and her unease increased tenfold as the guard who'd left returned with a man she recognized as belonging to her Uncle Victarion's crew though for the life of her she couldn't name him. "Who the fuck is this?" She asked.
"This is Ragnor Pyke, one of my raiders," her Uncle Victarion answered, making the man puff out his chest like some prized stallion out to stud. "He has proven himself worthy of captainship. And as such-"
"No," Asha hissed, glaring at her father and uncles. "The Black Wind is m—!"
"It is mine!" Her father shouted, slamming his fist down on the table and rising to his feet and glaring right back at her. "Your time amongst the soft greenlanders have made you forget our ways, daughter! You have not earned the right to captain a ship! Not after your constant failures in getting the sorcerer's or that bastard boy's cock in your cunt! You will do as I tell you! The Black Wind will go to Ragnor Pyke! And you will serve as his first mate until I decide that you are ready! Maybe if you actually do the duties expected of a woman…Perhaps you can earn your ship faster."
"I'd be more than happy to help with such and education, Lord Greyjoy, Captain." Ragnor smirked, eyeing Asha from head to toe and lingering on her tits and ass. "My salt wife can teach her quite a lot. That woman can suck a barnacle off a hull when she's properly motivated. I'm sure Asha here will be most adequate choking on a coc—"
Asha moved without thought, turning the ruined cup in her hand over and slamming it down onto the table rim first, breaking it further. Turning before the idiot who thought he had the right to her ship could move, Asha clenched the broken cup tightly in her fist and lashed out at the man. Burying the newly made jagged edge of the cup into the man's throat.
"Choke on this, fucker!" Asha growled, letting go of the cup just long enough to bring her fist back in order to punch the cup, lodging it further into the man's throat.
Stepping aside, Asha let the soon-to-be-dead-man fall to the floor, clutching at the jagged cut that was lodged deep in his throat while his blood left him in a rush. "I am my own woman, and the Black Wind is mine," she hissed, eyeing her father and her uncles. "The next man who tries to claim either had best do it with iron in their hands. Or they will meet the same fate. Though next time I'll use something…duller. Make it hurt more."
Her father and uncles just…stared at her. None of them uttering a single word as the would-be captain of her ship spilled his life blood out onto the floor. "Hmm, perhaps you are not a complete failure. You do remember some of our ways."
"I know the way," Asha said strongly before adding in softly under her breath. "Better than you."
Her father obviously hadn't heard the second part of what she'd said as he calmly sat back down and resumed eating and drinking casually, as if a man dying on his floor was an everyday occurrence. Which, given her family, was a distinct possibility. "The ship is yours," her father said nonchalantly as if they were talking about the weather. "Change out the sail to something suitable, Asha. Then we will talk about where you will be sailing her too. Leave."
Not bothering to even attempt to stay, Asha turned heel and marched out of the room. The rage that'd nearly consumed her was still burning hot as she stormed through the halls of the Pyke, leaving serving girls and guards hurrying to get out of her path as she made her way through. It was only when she was back aboard her ship and within her cabin that she finally took a moment to breathe. She knew that her return home would not be the most…pleasant of experiences. But she sure as hell wasn't expecting this type of welcome home. Making sure that the door to her cabin was locked, Asha made her way to her bed and knelt. Lifting the corner of her feather stuffed bed, Asha worked open a loose panel in the frame of the bed, revealing a hidden compartment the size of her forearm underneath. And within the compartment was a black melted candle made of glass. One of the many that'd been plundered from Valyria and gifted from the sorcerer to her just before she left Winterfell.
Carefully picking up the glass candle, she took a moment to stare into the black glass before letting her mattress fall back in place and moving over to the desk in her cabin. Setting the candle down on its surface, Asha knelt before the candle, her head bowed ever so slightly. Reaching within herself as Nox had taught her, Asha touched into the small well of power within her and channeled it out into the glass. As she raised her head, she could see a faint glow emanating from the glass, making her smirk. "Master Nox, I have returned home. My father acted as you predicted, and I responded in kind. The Black Wind is mine and my place has been confirmed."
The candle pulsed and glowed brighter. "Well done, Asha. You have taken your first step. And now your real task begins."