Brandon sat in the solar of Lord Flint of Widow's Watch, which had been granted to him and his brother Torrhen for the duration of their stay in the great keep on cliffs next to the Shivering Sea. But while most lords and kings would just sit in their chairs, he sat with his hands behind his head and his legs rested on the table. Some would have scolded him for being so relaxed, as it was inappropriate for most lords to act that way in front of others. Then again, this was the North and such behaviors were not so emphasized like that of the south.
More importantly, all three branches of House Flint were very loyal to House Stark, especially the more powerful ones at Widow's Watch. In fact, Lord Flint went out of his way to provide the best hospitality he could to Torrhen whenever he went on this royal progresses throughout the North and having the King in the North visit his keep twice that year was a great honor. So they were undeniably safe within the walls of Widow's Watch.
That morning, Brandon arose early and rode his mare along the sides of the cliff as he took in the calm of the Shivering Sea. There indeed existed a reassurance that came from the sea, as it went on and on in all directions and no one and nothing cared for who you were. In another life, I would have been happy being a captain of my own ship and sailing all over the world.
Brandon patted the reddish-brown fur of his direwolf, Autumn. Although he usually spent the day hunting in the wilderness, Brandon reached to his direwolf and told Autumn that he needed him by his side. "You're a good boy, you know that?" he scratched Autumn's head, which earned a lick on his hand from the direwolf.
The sound of the solar's door opening brought Brandon out of his daze, but he relaxed when he saw his brother Torrhen enter. While most lords would have risen when a king entered, he remained sitting, as they were close enough for them to dispense with all propriety with each other.
Torrhen was dressed in a linen tunic and had a belt of heavy silver links, which held his dagger, and had left his longsword in his chambers and House Stark's Valyrian steel sword Ice at Winterfell. He wore a surcoat made of fine white velvet, which had the grey direwolf against a white background sigil of House Stark the his left side over his chest. Brandon could see that Torrhen also wore cloaks made from black wool that also had a hint of grey with white. To top it all off, he had a black cloak lined with heavy furs, which he usually wore while he rode his destrier.
Torrhen was hardly concerned with being well kept, as the northern houses put little stock in appearances and was only concerned with one's actions.
"All hail Torrhen Stark!" Brandon called out like a herald. "First of His Name, king of the savages, ruler of the ice, and mage of the snow." He saw Torrhen roll his eyes, spurring him forward. "The people are curious as to what he will do today. Will he conjure up grumpkins from across the Wall? Will he witness someone pissing through a wolf? Or will he unleash a blizzard through his many ass-spraying mayhems?"
"Shut up, Bran," Torrhen groaned in annoyance, which prompted a chortle from Brandon.
"Oh, forgive me, Your Grace," Brandon replied in mock deference. "Perhaps, a sharp thrust from behind with Ice would be needed to silence me."
Torrhen frowned. "Don't even joke about that, Bran."
"I'd always wondered what the difference was between blades and cocks, since manhood is measured by both," Brandon continued aloud, but intentionally.
"For love of the gods, Bran," Torrhen grumbled.
"Come on, Torry," Brandon called the King in the North by his childhood nickname. "You know I'm no buggerer. I'm just japing with you."
"How many times do I have to tell you?" Torrhen poured himself a cup of ale while keeping his annoyed look on his face. "There are times to do that and times not to. This is one of them."
"Laughing is healing for the mind, Torry," Brandon shrugged. "Not laughing at my jests leads to more wrinkles on your face from your many instances of frowning and brooding. Pretty soon, you'll end up like poor old Black Harren who must've scowled so much he aged a hundred years before his time."
Torrhen took a swig from his cup of ale. "Just thinking about him makes me worried about his brother being here. I for one don't intend to roast within these walls like Black Harren did."
"We have the blood of the Starks within us, Torry," Brandon pointed out. "We know the Watch better than anyone and the black brothers take their vows seriously. They also know the consequences of deserting or breaking their vows."
"Nonetheless," Torrhen interrupted. "I made it clear to you that bringing Maron Hoare to Widow's Watch was a bad idea, considering that our incoming guests burnt most of his family to a crisp. It won't matter that he's the Lord Commander."
"The Targaryens are also aware of the Watch and understand that bringing harm to any of its members would thoroughly damage their house's standing throughout Westeros," Brandon reasoned. "Besides, I heard that Lord Hoare went to the Wall because he didn't want to be around his own people."
"Whatever personal feelings we have, having him in the same room as the Targaryens would jeopardize our meeting with them."
"They won't kill us," Brandon assured Torrhen.
"Why? Because your sight told you so?" Torrhen trusted Brandon's abilities, but he had a tendency to put practicality above fantastical abilities several times. Such was understandable, given that he was a king.
"That, and I've talked with Rhaenys Targaryen through the sight. They would never do something as stupid as kill the Lord Commander of the Watch."
Torrhen sighed. "Well, I'll have you know that bringing Maron Hoare is the least of my concerns at the moment. Did you know that Houses Umber, Karstark, and Glover were the ones most opposed to our meeting with the dragons? They said that the Starks and by extension the North must never get involved in the affairs of the south."
Brandon groaned. "I appreciate their loyalty, Torry, but they're not seeing the larger picture."
"Oh, I trust you, Bran," Torrhen answered. "But they're not like you. The first time I heard you talk about 'a pact of ice and fire,' I thought you were mad until you explained it more to me. However, the only reason I was convinced was because I've seen your sight in action. The rest of the lords will be harder to convince, especially Lord Umber as you well know."
"Marlon Umber disbelieves anything connected to magic since he views everything north of the Wall as connected to wildlings, who constantly deals with."
"That's irrelevant, Bran," Torrhen stated. "You might have convinced me, you might have convinced Lord Manderly to negotiate with Dragonstone, and you might have persuaded the Targaryens enough to have them come here, but the other lords won't. It's best if you don't talk about your sight at this meeting yet."
"I disagree, Torry," Brandon replied. "The Targaryens have dragons, all of which are magical by themselves. Plus, they have preserved certain wonders of old Valyria, all of which are based on magic. It won't be hard to persuade them."
"This is not about persuading the Targaryens, Bran," Torrhen pointed out. "This is about ensuring that all of the northern houses throw their support for this pact. Having them believe that this meeting occurred because of your sight would make them take it less seriously."
"Not the biggest concern you dealt with," Brandon shrugged.
"How about… we save all of our energies until the meeting begins, eh?" Torrhen suggested, but Brandon could see that he was not in the mood to further debate the issue. "I just want to enjoy a nice morning breaking my fast and enjoying this cup of ale. Is that too much to ask?"
Brandon nodded, respecting his brother's wishes. "Of course, Torry." He inhaled and picked up a strong scent. "I sense a large animal entering the room."
Torrhen raised an eyebrow before the door to the solar opened, servants entering with plates of salted bacon and setting them before the two brothers while placing two pork legs in front of Autumn. He rolled his eyes and sighed. "Must you jest before I eat?"
"Well, I do hope that the hog was quiet when the butcher came, because we wouldn't want to have our meal's last memory be one of agony?"
Torrhen looked as if he wanted to say something, but he just shook his head and began chewing on the bacon. As for Brandon, he just grinned while he joined his brother in breaking their fast. "May I have some ale, Torry?"
"Get it yourself," Torrhen muttered.
Brandon gasped mockingly. "You would be so cruel as to have your brother get up from his comfortable chair and to reduce him to pouring drinks like a servant?"
"That chair isn't comfortable," Torrhen said. "And I must be a servant then, since I poured myself a drink."
Brandon chuckled, amused that his brother was finally being loose, before he got up, poured himself a drink, and clinked his ale cup with Torrhen's. But before they could begin eating their bacon, the door to the solar opened again, this time with the Queen in the North entering, Jocelyn, who wore a grey gown lined with green and a woolen cloak that was similarly colored.
"Well, if it isn't the green-eyed wildling," Jocelyn remarked as her short stature and wavy black hair did nothing to hold the tongue that made many cross. Fortunately, Brandon knew her well enough to know that her runny mouth was her way of showing affection.
Brandon did another mock gasp. "What is this? More rubbish this morning?"
"Hey, with respect, Bran, you didn't let me finish. If it isn't the green-eyed wildling getting fatter in his chair like some penned-up wolf… cunt. Now, I'm finished," Jocelyn jabbed at Brandon's origins from the mountain clans and to him having the greensight.
"And if it isn't the undersized swamp rat, coming to grace us with her presence after another night of getting humped as a wolf takes its bitch," Brandon poked back at Jocelyn being the daughter of Lord Ethan Reed, the overlord of the crannogmen and of the Neck. He also saw that her hair was a bit disheveled, pointing to what she and Torrhen were doing the night before.
"I may be small, but I know how to stay afloat in water, which is more than what you could do, Bran," Jocelyn prodded at Brandon's swimming struggles.
"If you can count swamps as real water," Brandon pointed out. "Plus, why would I need to swim if I can just walk on water on land?"
"What?" Jocelyn asked with confusion.
"You know, snow is water, and we see a lot of it near the Wall. There, I can walk on it," Brandon visualized with his hands.
Jocelyn snickered. As for Torrhen, he rubbed his temples, not in the mood for his brother's and his wife's antics in the morning. "Perhaps you should have married him, Jos."
"I think not, then I might have actually lost an argument," Jocelyn moved toward Torrhen and kissed him lightly on the lips. "How's your morning been, my king?"
"Great, before you two decided to start a jesting match," Torrhen said before he resumed eating his bacon.
"Come now, Torry," Brandon called out. "You're the only one who could handle our japes without sticking Ice up our asses."
Torrhen set down his fork and knife while giving Brandon his irritated face. "Bran, I'm not in the mood for your ass jokes. I could decree it to the northern houses that words such as 'ass' or 'asshole' can no longer be said, and I would really have an excuse to stick you with Ice."
"But you won't, because then, Winterfell would become really boring without me and Jos adding some absurdity to the seriousness of the North."
"Maybe, but Bran, can you not jest with people's asses just for today? We're about to have a summit that could forever change the North, and I don't need our guests to see you as a laughingstock."
"I wouldn't worry about that, Torry. As I've said, I've talked with Rhaenys Targaryen. I know that she knows me enough to tolerate my japing tendency," Brandon reassured him with confidence.
"Fine, fine. Now, would it be too much to ask if I could break my fast in peace? I heard enough jests for one day," Torrhen took a swig from his ale cup while the servants brought another plate of bacon for Jocelyn. Respecting his wishes, Brandon poured Jocelyn a cup of ale before they ate their morning meal in silence. As for Autumn, he enjoyed his pig feet so much that he began to grind his teeth on the bones.
Once they were finished with their bacon, Brandon, Torrhen, and Jocelyn walked outside the solar and entered Widow's Watch great hall. It wasn't as large as the one in Winterfell, but it was large enough to accommodate all of the northern houses that had arrived to meet with the last major remnant of old Valyria. While some houses came personally, some others acted on behalf of the more minor houses, like the Flints of Widow's Watch speaking for all of House Flint and House Dustin representing the barrowlands. It was a body that was to represent the North in a momentous event in their history since the campaign in the Three Sisters.
Brandon also had Autumn strode with him, his brother, and his good-sister. It sent a strong message to the northern houses that the Starks were still going strong, and having a live direwolf be with them served as a symbol of their house's continued strength.
The first to greet Torrhen and Jocelyn was Joseth Glover, Master of Deepwood Motte. "Your Graces," he dipped his head to Torrhen.
"Thank you for coming, Lord Joseth," Torrhen shook his hand. "It must've been grueling for you and your house to have traveled all the way here."
"Not at all, Your Grace," Joseth Glover shook his head. "I am happy to be of service to House Stark in whatever way possible."
"We're glad to hear it," Jocelyn nodded before they both moved onto Marlon Umber. "Always a pleasure to see you, Lord Marlon. I trust the climate here is tolerable compared to Last Hearth?"
"Nonsense, my queen," Marlon Umber spoke loudly. "Everything may be warmer here, but we Umbers enjoy the cold near the Wall, since we could all brush closely against each other against the fire and in our beds, if you know what I mean?"
King Torrhen chuckled, having grown accustomed with the Umbers' proclivity for lewdness and trusted in his wife's fidelity to allow her to engage in such banter. "Of course, Marlon. Hopefully, you won't be so inclined to being too warm, considering who's coming?" Marlon smiled, almost hiding the fact that he was hesitant to treat with the dragons, before Torrhen moved on to Larence Karstark, Lord of Karhold. "How have you been, old friend?"
"Very good, Your Grace," Larence Karstark bowed his head. "I just received a raven from Karhold this morning. It appears that my son Kyle has been handling the duties of the keep well since I departed. It made me happy to have a son that I can trust to keep our house in good order when I'm gone."
Jocelyn grinned, as did Torrhen. "That's very good to hear, Larence. Although I hope your passing doesn't come for many years. We will need your friendship further down the road." Lord Karstark nodded his thanks before Torrhen and Jocelyn moved on, but Brandon could see that they wished he spent more time with Larence after seeing who it was next.
"Thank you for coming, Lord Rogar," Torrhen shook his hand, with a little hesitation. "I trust your journey here wasn't too strenuous?"
Rogar Bolton smiled, but Brandon knew that he detected his brother's reluctance. "It's of little consequence, Your Grace. After all, it isn't everyday that one would lay eyes on living dragons."
"I wouldn't be too excited, Lord Bolton," Brandon spoke. "Dragons are intelligent creatures, but they can be vicious to those with ill-intent. That's an occurrence that we wouldn't want happening, would we?"
Rogar Bolton blinked, evidently offended at being addressed in that manner by a bastard and especially when Brandon gave him a warning. Even though bastardy status was not as deplored as in the kingdoms south of the Neck, the stain of bastardy was still very prevalent and it was only because of someone very vivacious at Winterfell that allowed him to grow up without it tainting his mind. It also didn't help that Autumn was eyeing him up and down, in a manner akin to a wolf examining its game.
Before Lord Bolton could respond, Jocelyn intervened. "There, there, Brandon. He's merely being curious, aren't you, my lord?"
"Indeed, my queen," Rogar Bolton bobbed his head as the three moved on to greet Lord Dorren Manderly.
Rogar Bolton was one of those lords who one could never really be sure of, which was made more complicated given the bloody history between the Red Kings and the Kings of Winter. While Rogar Bolton never stepped out of line and paid his dues in taxes and in levies, the latter being accomplished with the four thousand troops sent to Moat Cailin, Brandon and Torrhen had also heard some disturbing reports from the Dreadfort, with Lord Bolton being said to illegally engage in flaying his prisoners and forcing himself on lowborn women. Thankfully, no bastards were born from his latter activities as far as they both knew and both of them hoped that his son and heir, Gage Bolton, would take over the Dreadfort soon, as he had heard nothing but good things of Lord Gage from Lord Manderly, with whom he fostered at White Harbour.
Moving back to Torrhen and Jocelyn greeting Dorren Manderly, Brandon observed the Lord of White Harbour engaged in deep conversation with the King in the North. "Thank you for coming, Dorren," Torrhen greeted him.
"Not at all, Your Grace," Dorren Manderly grinned as he straightened his silk cloak lined with heavy furs. Brandon fought the urge to laugh at the ostentatious display by Lord Dorren, as they acted like southron lords in showing off their wealth. However, the Manderlys were reliable and the heir to White Harbour, Warrick, had done House Stark a great service by treating with the Targaryens at Dragonstone. It was from that meeting where Torrhen and the northern lords were able to gain a basic understanding of the last dragonlords of Valyria.
"I trust the gifts to our guests are in good order?" Torrhen asked.
"They are, King Torrhen," Dorren affirmed. "This is not the south, but I was able to procure luxuries that are hard to come by for even the Gardeners."
"And I hope your knowledge of High Valyrian has been brushed up, my lord, in order to make our guests be more at ease with each other," Jocelyn joined in.
Dorren nervously chuckled. "I only know a few words, my queen, but I shall my best."
"We know you will," Torrhen finished before moving on. But like with Rogar Bolton, Brandon saw his brother and good-sister becoming awkward with their next guest.
Lord Commander of the Night's Watch Maron Hoare was dressed in raven black leathers and cloaks, as customary of his fellow black brothers. Brandon had heard of his exploits at the Wall, rising through the ranks to become Lord Steward before being elected its commander. And yet despite being able to achieve his wishes of being away from his own family and people, the years had not been kind to the brother of Black Harren. His black hair and beard had turned to white and wrinkles had formed all over his face even he had seen forty name-days. He also had a distinctive hunch, which indicated that he viewed himself lowly.
Torrhen shook Maron Hoare's hand, and Brandon could see that Black Harren's brother didn't hold a very good strong grip, reminding him of why the ironborn hadn't served with the Watch's rangers and the reason why he left his home in the first place.
"I trust that the Wall is in capable hands while you're here, Lord Hoare," Torrhen addressed him.
"Yes, King Torrhen," Maron Hoare replied. "My First Ranger and Lord Steward are more than able to handle the affairs of the Wall in my absence."
"I'll be frank with you, Lord Hoare," Torrhen went straight to the issue. "I was against allowing you to come here because of who your brother was and what your people are, but my wife and my brother persuaded me otherwise. And then, I realized that it would not send a good message if my house allowed personal considerations to affect the North's relationship with the Watch. But I must ask you something, my lord."
"Anything, King Torrhen."
"We're about to meet the very people who killed your former king and wiped out most of your house. Not just responsible, but personally dealt the killing blow against your brother and many of your nephews at Harrenhal, and they may not be receptive to treating with an ironborn in this hall. With that being said, will your family ties jeopardize this summit? If so, you are free to return to Castle Black and I shall act on your behalf in regards to the affairs on the Wall."
Brandon and Jocelyn eyed the ironborn black brother nervously, as did the rest of the northern lords and ladies. As Lord Commander, Maron Hoare had ten thousand swords at his fingertips and could march them all southwards in support of his nephew Darvin.
Eyeing Torrhen straight, Maron Hoare exhaled before standing resolutely. "We're all human, King Torrhen. It is easy for us all to do our duty when there's no cost to it. Honor comes easy then. Yet sooner or later in our lives, there comes a day when honor does not come easy, a day when we must choose. The gods were cruel when they saw fit to test my vows. They waited till my vitality was spent. What could I do when the ravens brought news from the south? My brother ruining my house, dragons killing most of my family, and my mad-dog nephew ensuring that the Hoare name will die a slow death? I was helpless and confined to the cold when I heard it all."
An ironborn taking his vows seriously… you don't see that everyday, Brandon silently remarked.
"But that's in the past, and I shall live with my decision for the rest of my days. I'm a watcher on the Wall and my first loyalty is to my fellow brothers in black. You have my word that my previous family ties shall not interfere with my duties to the Wall, which I have come to conduct on this day," Maron Hoare promised.
Unfortunately for him, most of the northern houses scoffed at the ironborn's promises. As for Brandon, he was confident that the Watch would remain neutral, but it didn't hurt to be extra cautious.
"I hope we can take your word on that, my lord," Jocelyn cautioned him before Torrhen moved on to continue welcoming the other lords and ladies.
After saying his greetings to Lords Dustin, Cerwyn, Poole, and Hornwood, Brandon beamed when Torrhen lastly came to the Mormont sisters, Bethany and Lyanara. While Bethany was older and thus the Lady of Bear Island, Lyanara was just as influential as she was when it came to matters in their house. Lyanara was the tallest of the Mormont sisters and preferred a mace to a sword, while Bethany was the most willful and quick of them. However, none in the North doubted their combat prowess, having made their names by emerging as champions of various melees before the untimely passing of their father and even beating Marlon Umber one time. Also, many in the north vied for their hands, for they represented the essence of the wild beauty of the north, being as elegant and graceful in dance, song, and dresses as they were comfortable with arms and mail.
"Your Grace," Bethany greeted Torrhen while she and Lyanara curtseyed.
Torrhen snorted while outstretching his arms. "Come now, Beth. That's no way to greet your cousin."
Bethany obliged and pulled the King in the North in for a strong hug befitting a bear. "Good to see you, Torry," she called Torrhen by his childhood nickname. The Mormonts were family, so they were allowed to be so familiar with their king.
Torrhen enthusiastically returned the hug. "Great to see you, Beth. Been a year since I've last saw you."
"How's Ben?" Bethany asked after Torrhen's eldest son and heir.
"Very good. He seems to be looking forward to the day he is allowed to enter a melee."
"I hope it's soon. Want to see him test his steel against Longclaw," Bethany smirked.
"Be careful what you wish for, Beth," Jocelyn lightly warned. "He's part-bear, so he might be as fierce as you are."
"Looking forward to seeing how those in the swamp fight, considering Ben is also of the Neck," Lyanara jested with Jocelyn.
Such times with the Mormonts were what made Brandon feel so grateful to those from Bear Island. He didn't qualify as a proper lord given his bastard status. Fortunately, he wasn't irrationally scolded for that and was raised as a Stark by his father, King Harald, and his wife and queen, Gilliane Mormont Stark. In fact, Queen Gilliane was more of a mother than Brandon's birthmother ever was, pushing him to be the best warrior he could be and having him be fostered at Last Hearth to get some experience fighting with wildlings. She even gifted him with a top-quality sword as a present for thirteenth name-day. It was because of her that Brandon became confident in himself despite the rather sordid circumstances of his birth.
"My lords and ladies of the North," King Torrhen addressed to all in the great hall. "Thank you all for arriving here to Widow's Watch. First off, I'd like to thank Lord Flint for agreeing to host his noble body in his very home." The northern lords and ladies cheered their approval for Lord Flint, who humbled accepted the praise. "This day is a very exceptional occasion for it will the first time that the First Men will treat with the remnants of old Valyria. Now, I understand that some of you have voiced your grievances in meeting the last dragonlords in the world given what has happened at Harrenhal and to Argilac Durrandon."
The northern lords murmured, all understandably nervous with how the summit with the dragons would progress. As for Brandon, he already knew the outcome of the summit but he had to let the current events run their course.
"However," Torrhen continued. "I'm sure that the happenings in the south have concerned us all, with the Faith managing to rally the Lannisters, the Gardeners, and the Arryns in order to eradicate the Valyrians. While the Valyrians are not one of us and my predecessors would not concern themselves with southern affairs, my brother, Brandon Snow," Torrhen pointed to Brandon. "Has warned of the threat posed by the Faith's holy war. Now, all of you are aware of my brother Brandon and what he is capable of, all I can ask is that you trust his words on the results of our meeting with the dragons."
"While no one would dare question your brother in your presence, my king," Rogar Bolton spoke up. "I am curious as to what he thinks will be the results of our treating with the Valyrians."
"All will be explained in due time, my lord," Jocelyn spoke for Torrhen. "For now, let us prepare for our esteemed guests and to speak with open minds."
Rogar Bolton respectfully bowed to Queen Jocelyn. "Of course, Your Grace."
The heads and representatives of the northern houses took their seats, with the Mormonts seated closed to the king's table on their left. Brandon set to the left of Torrhen, a seat that was usually reserved for Bennard Stark, heir to Winterfell and the Crown of Winter. However, Torrhen left Bennard in charge of Winterfell until they returned from Widow's Watch. Also, having Brandon sit right next to the King in the North emphasized to the northern houses and hopefully to their guests of the esteem he had to the Starks.
Just as ale and wine was served, everyone in the great hall heard dragon roars pierce through their small conversations. Naturally, all stopped drinking and looked around the hall in fear, the tales of the dragons' deeds against Black Harren greatly affecting their impressions of the dragons. But having already conversed with Rhaenys Targaryen, Brandon wasn't worried and merely set down his cup.
"Seems like our guests have finally arrived," Brandon remarked.
"So it would seem," Torrhen replied. "My lords and ladies, please calm down! No harm will come to us."
"How do you know that, my king?" Rogar Bolton asked.
"If the dragons wanted to harm us, we would be roasting alive by now," Brandon pointed out. "Torry, I'll go outside and see our guests in. It will help if at least one of them saw a familiar face."
"Go ahead, Bran," Torrhen pointed to the door. "But be careful."
"Hey, it's me. Come on, boy," Brandon spoke with confidence before walking out of the great hall with Autumn. If he had to guess, the courtyard was too big for all of the four dragons, so the only logical place for them to land was outside the walls of Widow's Watch.
Walking through the raised portcullis, Brandon scanned the skies while Autumn sat down on his hind legs. Hearing wing flaps, he turned around and saw four large shapes fly past the towers of Widow's Watch and past him before turning around. He was able to see their riders, all of their violet eyes staring back at his grey eyes and their silver hair waving against the air, as the dragons opened their wings and landed hard on the ground.
The black dragon got Brandon's attention first, as it was the largest of the four. That must be Balerion, he thought. He then looked over the other dragons and recognized each one by their colors. the dragon with orange scales mixed with gray was Vhagar, the blue-green one was called Cloudwynd, and he knew the last one was called Meraxes. How he knew was because he had met Meraxes before, but in a dream. Nice to finally meet the actual Meraxes.
Brandon turned to his right and saw Autumn get on all four of his legs and move towards the dragons as they also stomped their way towards him. Just before they closed the distance, all of the dragons roared, their bellows combining into one as they directed them to the him and Autumn. However, he remained calm and stood his ground as the dragons stopped thundering. As for Autumn, he also stood still but kept growling as the dragons neared their heads towards the direwolf.
The dragons puffed their hot breaths towards the direwolf, but Autumn just stared back at them and was in a position where he could pounce. Most would laugh at a wolf trying to take on a dragon, but a direwolf was connected to an essence that ran deeper than that before the First Men and would not be intimidated by other creatures.
Brandon saw the dragons slightly become calm, sensing that Autumn was not going to be frightened by their growls and the possibility of their breaths turning into flames. He looked up and saw the riders watching the whole display, most of them confused at what was happening. All except the rider on the silvery dragon, who had an older woman holding on to her from behind. We meet at last, Rhaenys Targaryen, Brandon recognized.
Balerion and Meraxes lowered themselves to the ground, allowing their riders, which included an older man, to move onto the ground while the other two riders merely slid off theirs. Once they saw that their riders were safely on the ground, the four dragons lifted themselves up and launched into the air, roaring as they flew in circles.
Brandon took in all of the riders as they approached him and Autumn. "My lords and ladies, on behalf of House Stark and of the northern houses, I welcome you to Widow's Watch."
"And who might you be, my lord?" one of the younger male dragonriders asked.
"You're Lord Snow, aren't you?" Rhaenys looked at Brandon up and down.
Brandon smiled. "Good to finally meet you in person, Lady Rhaenys."
"Likewise," Rhaenys held out her hand, which Brandon kissed courteously. She turned to the direwolf. "And this is Autumn?"
"Yes, it is," confirmed Brandon. "And you can pet her if you want. She doesn't bite."
Rhaenys wasted no time to reach for Autumn's head. While his direwolf was hesitant to have strangers touch him, he sensed Brandon's ease with their guests and relaxed. After she ran his head through his fur, Autumn extended his tongue and took in her soft touch.
"He likes you, Lady Rhaenys," Brandon remarked. Rhaenys ignored him as she continued to pet the direwolf.
"Looks more like an overgrown lump of fur, if you ask me," the other younger male dragonriders said in High Valyrian to who he assumed was Visenya Targaryen Belaerys. Although Brandon knew the language, he kept that to himself until the most opportune time.
"Very nice to meet you, Lord Snow," one of the younger male dragonriders extended his hand. "I am Aegon Targaryen, son of Aerion and Valaena Targaryen, heir to Dragonstone, and husband to Rhaenys."
Brandon shook his hand. "Likewise, Lord Aegon. I've heard much about you and your exploits, as have the rest of the north."
"Thank you, my lord. I'm flattered," Aegon replied with humility. He isn't pretentious, which is one of the things Westeros needs now.
"And you must be Lady Visenya," Brandon turned to the warrior dragon. "Your reputation precedes you, my lady."
"And yours also, Lord Brandon," Visenya answered as Brandon kissed her hand in greeting. "I've heard much about from my sister and my parents."
"I am sure," Brandon smirked. "Ah, Jaenyx Belaerys. From what I hear, I can't choose whether to like you or to abhor you. No one questions your prowess in the field, but I heard talk that you're quite callous to anyone who you think wronged you."
Visenya blinked, taking an affront to Brandon already trying to rile up her husband. Rhaenys and Aegon looked at the two nervously, anxious to how their good-brother would react.
Fortunately, Jaenyx remained calm. "People choose what they want to believe, Lord Brandon," he answered with a distinct Valyrian lilt. "Their minds… cannot comprehend complex truths and if you try to please everyone, you please no one at all."
Brandon's eyelids flicked, taking in Jaenyx's words, before chuckling and therefore putting the rest at ease. "No truer words have I heard, Lord Jaenyx. You must have a lot of experience with people, don't you?"
Jaenyx let out a small grin. "Both on the inside and the outside, my lord," he cryptically replied. Brandon smiled back, because he knew exactly what he was talking about. Better not show that yet.
"My lords and ladies, if you would. The northern houses and the King in the North are expecting you in the great hall," Brandon gestured them to follow him.
"You mean your brother?" Rhaenys pointed out.
"Brother he may be, he is still my king. Propriety must be followed," Brandon said sheepishly.
"You have no idea how refreshing it is for a naturally-born son to not be so uncertain of himself," Rhaenys said.
Brandon appreciated her politeness. "Right, you have a brother like that also, Orys Baratheon if I recall his name." The mention of his name made her and the rest shift uncomfortably. "Oh, I apologize. I know of his current circumstances and I can only imagine what you all must be feeling."
"Thank you, Lord Brandon," Aerion said.
"You're welcome. Right, to the hall."
Brandon had a servant provide the Targaryens and Jaenyx Belaerys with bread and salt, which they took but he could see how they rolled their eyes at the custom. The Targaryens still respect the tradition, but I'm more worried about Lord Belaerys. He better not step on too many toes with his bigotry.
The doors of the great hall opened, to reveal the large body of northern houses gathered under the roof of Widow's Watch. With Autumn at his side, Brandon led the dragonlords through the hall, which was adorned with the banners of houses such as the Mormonts, Karstarks, Glovers, Manderlys, Umbers, Reeds, Hornwoods, Pooles, and Boltons. Every northern lord and lady eyed the Valyrian party with caution, unsure what to think of the last people in the world who could control dragons.
Brandon stopped just in front of the table where Torrhen and Jocelyn sat. "Your Grace," he projected while respectfully addressing his brother in front of their guests. "May I present House Targaryen of Dragonstone and their ally, House Belaerys of the Basilisk Isles?" He stepped aside to allow the dragonlords to say their own introductions.
"Your Grace," Aerion dipped his head in respect. "I am Aerion of House Targaryen, Lord of Dragonstone in the Blackwater Bay."
"King Torrhen," Valaena curtseyed in deference to Brandon's brother. "I am Valaena of House Targaryen, second daughter of Lucaerys Velaryon, Master of Driftmark and Lord of the Tides, and Lady of Dragonstone."
Aegon gave a slight bow with his head. "I am Aegon of House Targaryen, Your Grace. Heir to Dragonstone and rider of the dragon Balerion."
Like their mother, Rhaenys and Visenya also curtseyed. "I am Rhaenys of House Targaryen, King Torrhen. Wife of Aegon Targaryen and rider of the dragon Meraxes."
"I am Visenya of House Belaerys, Your Grace. Eldest child of Aerion and Valaena Targaryen, wife of Jaenyx Belaerys, and rider of the dragon Vhagar."
Brandon anxiously waited for how Jaenyx Belaerys would respond. While he trusted that Jaenyx was not dumb enough to disrespectfully address a king, his previous history of prejudice would not help matters. Please don't fuck this up, Lord Jaenyx.
Thankfully, Jaenyx dipped his head like Aegon. "King Torrhen, I am Jaenyx of House Belaerys, Lord of the Vulture's Roost in the Red Mountains and rider of the dragon Cloudwynd."
Brandon exhaled in relief.
"Never have I met a more unclean bunch in my life," Jaenyx snorted to Visenya, who laughed.
Unfortunately for Jaenyx, Brandon understood and laughed.
"What's so funny, Bran?" Torrhen asked with curiosity.
"Well, it appears that Lord Jaenyx does not have a very good opinion on our cleanliness, Your Grace." That prompted scoffs among the northern houses, all of who did not follow the southern standards that Jaenyx had grown accustomed to.
Jaenyx was surprised. "You speak High Valyrian, Lord Snow?"
"I do," Brandon nodded. "It is wise to study the ways of one's adversaries, wouldn't you agree?"
"Is that you think we are, my lord?"
Brandon smirked. "Of course not. Then again, it's always useful to know when someone upsets you in another tongue, something you know very well, my lord."
"Huh," Jaenyx managed, but was more amused with Brandon than he was angry with him. Then, he gave Brandon a respectful nod. I look forward to our next conversation, Lord Jaenyx of House Belaerys.
King Torrhen took them all back to the matter at hand. "If you are done, Brandon. Thank you for coming all this way, my lords and ladies. I understand that you have a war going on, but I appreciate you all taking the time to come here to discuss important matters here in the north. I wish it was under better circumstances."
"You and I wish the same, Your Grace," Aerion spoke.
"Indeed. Lady Rhaenys," Torrhen turned his attention to the youngest Targaryen. "Am I correct in understanding that you have met my brother before, Brandon Snow?"
Rhaenys swallowed down her throat, as if thinking how to say the next words. "You are, Your Grace." This made many of the northern lords and ladies curious as to how a dragonlord met their king's bastard brother.
"Would you be so kind as to explain how you know him?" Torrhen asked.
Rhaenys looked to Brandon for answers. She doesn't want to be seen as crazy, which I understand. But her words are necessary. He nodded and Rhaenys prepared herself. Her parents and her siblings also eyed anxiously.
"I met him twice, Your Grace, through a spiritual connection." That raised some eyebrows among the northmen gathered.
"Can you please elaborate, my lady?" Torrhen pressed. However, Brandon knew that this was more for the northern houses, as he already knew of the communication they both shared.
Rhaenys spent a good part of the hour explaining to the northern body the connection shared between both her and Brandon. While a few like Bethany and Lyanara Mormont and Ethan Reed had seen Brandon's greensight firsthand and some like Dorren Manderly trusted what she had to say, others like Marlon Umber and Larence Karstark were quick to skepticism. However, they had the decency to let her finish her account, especially since they saw their king listen with intent.
After Rhaenys finished, Rogar Bolton was unsurprisingly the first to question her story. "Your Grace, no disrespect intended to our esteemed guests, but I find it hard to believe that a dragonspawn with no connection to us First Men would be able to communicate with one of ours."
Brandon saw Jaenyx and the Targaryens take offense before Marlon Umber stepped in. "It cannot be true!" bellowed the Lord of Last Hearth. "Magic has not been seen in the north for many centuries. And now we have to believe the mad tales of a dragonspawn claiming to be able to talk through dreams?"
"Lord Umber speaks for all of us," Larence Karstark expressed. "These people are foreigners! They had no connection with the North or any part of Westeros until a century ago, and they just lied about on their tiny island. The question we should be asking is, why is this happening now and why should we believe it?"
"You're wrong on that count, Lord Larence," Bethany Mormont responded. "I have seen personally the abilities of Brandon Snow, the brother of my king and cousin. Any doubts I had of his abilities were cast aside when I saw him bond with his direwolf, who only those carrying the blood of the Warg King could do. Is it really hard to believe that he can communicate through dreams?"
"Lady Bethany speaks the truth, my lord," Ethan Reed made his presence known. "I have seen many things in the swamps of the Neck, things that made me question what I thought was real. And Brandon Snow had told me things that only those gifted with foresight could say. So, I trust what Lady Rhaenys had spoke of just now."
"Respectfully, Lord Ethan," Joseth Glover said. "The Mormonts and the Reeds are related to House Stark, either by marriage or by blood. It's only natural that family would defend the deeds among its members, no matter how outrageous they seem."
"I must disagree with you there, Lord Glover," Warrick Manderly stepped in. "I am the only one here besides Lord Snow to have seen the lords and ladies of Dragonstone. If what Lady Rhaenys said were untrue, they wouldn't have welcomed me or gave me hospitality when my party and myself arrived. They also wouldn't have recognized Lord Snow's name if they exchanged no words prior to my arrival."
That temporarily quieted the doubters. House Manderly practiced the Faith and had every reason to disparage the very people the Starry Sept condemned as infidels.
"I must add, my lords," Torrhen spoke. "If any of you doubted the reasoning I provided when I had you all send your banners to Moat Cailin, you wouldn't have answered my call."
"Yes, Your Grace. We all remember you saying that Lord Snow foresaw the Faith declaring a holy war on the Valyrians and that such an act was a threat against us as believers of the Old Gods," Larence Karstark agreed. "While we will fiercely protect the old ways against all those that seek their end, what is the role of the Valyrians? Why do we treat with the dragons, who are as likely to burn us like they did the ironborn?"
Brandon saw the Targaryens and Jaenyx listen silently to the exchanges between the northern lords. He knew that they were all merely absorbing the atmosphere in the great hall amongst the northern houses and were waiting to see where it all went. That was when he decided to step in again.
"Lord Karstark," Brandon spoke. "I sent a letter to Dragonstone, which was delivered personally by Lord Warrick. I spoke a pact similar to the one made between the First Men and the Children of the Forest, which was necessary to safeguard our people against the Long Night. I spoke of a pact of ice and fire, where we must fight to protect everything we hold dear against the unnatural forces that seek to destroy them. With the Faith declaring a holy war against the Valyrians, how long do you think it will be before the followers of the new gods decided to turn on those following the old gods?"
Murmurs broke out in the great hall, all of the northern houses, except the Mormonts, the Reeds, and some among the Manderlys remaining quiet but trusting of Brandon's words.
"No one can deny your loyalty to your house and to the North, Lord Snow," Joseth Glover called out. "However, none of us were made privy to the details of this 'pact of ice and fire' as you call it. I believe I speak for all of us in that we might be more amenable if you care to elaborate what this pact entails."
Several "ayes" were heard in the great hall. Brandon looked to Torrhen, who was unsure of what to say next. However, he was the only one besides Warrick Manderly and Jocelyn who knew of the particulars of the pact. Brandon gave him a nod while mouthing to him, "Best to pull the arrow out before it festers."
Torrhen stood up from his chair, with Jocelyn rising with him. "To start, I ask Houses Targaryen and Belaerys on behalf of the North to assent to our annexation of the Twins and the Three Sisters in exchange for our help in the struggle against the Faith."
Brandon saw Rhaenys, Aegon, and Lady Valaena talk to their father, Visenya, and Jaenyx on the terms offered by Warrick Manderly. After a short moment, their father nodded in agreement. "That can be arranged, Your Grace. I have no objection to giving the Twins to the North, as House Frey has broken faith with our house and therefore will need a new overlord. As for the Three Sisters, they belong to an enemy of ours, but we shall not object to you taking them."
"I'm glad that you agree to our terms, Lord Aerion," Torrhen grinned. The northmen also nodded, seeing the terms as acceptable.
"But Your Grace," Marlon Umber voiced out. "While we agree to the terms given, I fear that there is more to this pact, from how you and Lord Snow described it." The northern lords and ladies were also eager to know what else the pact included.
As for Brandon, he looked at his brother and gave him a look that said, "What are you doing? Why are you delaying?" He might have understood if Torrhen wanted to ease the northern houses into the more important part of the summit, but time was of the essence.
Seeing Brandon's growing impatience, Torrhen exhaled, preparing himself for the incoming shitstorm that would strike with his next words. He might not have liked what Brandon revealed to him, but he trusted Brandon enough to take the next major step in their summit. "My lords and ladies, for the pact of ice and fire to be fully consummated, I must forthwith declare on this day and for all days and years to come to surrender my crown and swear fealty to the dragons on behalf of House Stark and all of the north."
Silence swept through the great hall, the northern lords stupefied by what their king just said. Brandon looked at the dragonlords and saw nothing but complete surprise from them, all except Aegon, Rhaenys, and Valaena, which didn't say much. He had revealed to those three how he saw their family rule all of the seven kingdoms of Westeros and more, so at least they were not as shocked as Lord Aerion, Lady Visenya, and Lord Jaenyx.
After what seemed like minutes, the entire hall was in an uproar, the northern lords yelling at the top of their voices, as arguments began to break out over what their king had said. Many called him a coward, a fool, and delusional, some called him a disgrace to the north and House Stark, and others shouted that they should kick out the dragonlords at once. At least, that's what Brandon thought they were yelling.
"TRAITOR!" one of the lords bellowed. "You spit on your ancestors!"
"Hold your tongue, my lord, or you shall lose it," Jocelyn warned.
"A king kneeling before a lord?!!!" Larence Karstark shouted with disdain. "Such a thing has never happened before and I will be damned before I see the King of Winter bow before dragonspawn."
"You forget who you're speaking to, my lord!" Bethany Mormont defended her cousin. Despite also somewhat disbelieving what Torrhen had just said, she would stand by her family no matter what.
"My lords, my lords!" Ethan Reed stepped in the middle of the hall, the crannogman lord manging to get everyone's attention and thus getting them all quiet. "I believe it is time that we heard exactly what Lord Snow has to say about this pact of ice and fire. Wouldn't it make sense to throw your insults after you heard all of the facts?"
None of the lords could deny that logic, but they begrudgingly turned their attention to Brandon. Taking a breath and exhaling, Brandon knew it was time to reveal at least the important details.
"My lords, the winds of change are in the air. The north will change. Westeros will change. The lives of our grandchildren and their grandchildren shall be determined within the moons ahead. However, how they shall change will be determined by our actions today. In the south is a grave threat against us as First Men and as worshippers of the Old Gods. Should the Faith succeed in wiping out the Valyrians, they shall turn their attention and finish what their ancestors failed to do. King Theon Stark might have beaten them off thousands of years ago, but there is no guarantee that we could hold them off again.
"The engine through which Westeros will change will not be of the North. The strength of the First Men in the south is too damaged and we cannot hope to safeguard our people and our traditions by our own strength alone. The only way that we can protect ourselves is standing right here in front of us," Brandon pointed to the dragonlords. "Despite the Doom, the fires of Valyria still burn strong and their dragons have already accomplished feats that has never been seen before in Westeros. Their cause against the Faith is our cause, for it was their followers that overturned the natural order of Westeros and disrupted the balance put in place by the First Men."
"And so," Torrhen joined with Brandon. "Through the Valyrians, we shall restore the natural order that stabilized Westeros after the Long Night and end the unnatural forces that have threatened to uproot it completely."
"How do you intend to accomplish that, my king?" Joseth Glover asked while still addressing him with his royal title.
"Brandon told me that the Valyrians will rule all of Westeros and beyond," Torrhen walked nearer to the dragonlords. "The north and the First Men shall become wealthier and more powerful than ever before, with our mark on the world being more permanent than that of King Theon Stark. The old ways and the worship of the old gods shall return to all of Westeros, while those of Valyria shall rise atop the ruins of the Faith. The ways of the First Men and of Valyria will coexist to remake the world where there shall be no place for unnatural forces. All of this will be accomplished, but only after I swear my house's and the North's fealty."
Brandon could see Aegon and Rhaenys gulp. Although they had Brandon's foreknowledge, to see it actually unfold in front of them was overwhelming. Then again, the great forces of change in history are never easy to handle.
"If that is the case," Rogar Bolton said. "It will be awkward for a king to fealty to a lord."
Brandon glared at the Lord of the Dreadfort. He could see how pleased he was at the whole situation, with the scheming already starting in his mind. As for the dragonlords, they gave Lord Bolton hard stares, obviously not appreciating the Boltons adding to the complications. They better continue to view Lord Rogar with distrust.
"I, for one, don't care for power and riches!" Marlon Umber shouted. "The Umbers followed a king named Stark for a thousand years and I will be damned before I see a king of mine kneel before upstarts." To Brandon's consternation, a few shouted their agreement with the Lord of Last Hearth, so he had to intervene.
"The Targaryens and Belaerys' are not upstarts, Lord Umber," Brandon corrected. "The Targaryens have resided in the Blackwater Bay for over a hundred years, and the Belaerys' were one of the most powerful dragonlord families in Valyria, so both houses have an understanding of what power is. And you're right, Lord Bolton," he stared at the Lord of the Dreadfort. "It will be awkward for a king to kneel before a lord. That's why I ask either Aerion or Aegon Targaryen to assume the title of king, King of Westeros."
Silence again swept through the great hall. However, there were no shouts of protest against Torrhen bending the knee to the dragonlords, as many in the hall came around to Brandon's words and were at least open to the idea of forming an alliance with the Valyrians. As for Aerion and Aegon, they were also shocked, but not so much for Aegon, as Brandon already told him, Rhaenys, and their mother.
"And how do you intend for the pact to be fully consummated?" Larence Karstark asked Brandon.
"Simple," Brandon answered. "The dragonlords will promise a future betrothal between a future daughter of House Stark and a future heir of House Targaryen?"
Now that, Rhaenys, Aegon, and their mother did not expect. Rhaenys looked to Aegon, confusion in their faces.
"And with the marriage between the future heir of House Targaryen and the daughter of House Stark, the blood of the First Men shall rule Westeros," Brandon explained.
The northern lords murmured amongst themselves, but were now more amenable to the idea of a ruler of Westeros carrying First Men blood.
"Why do you ask me, Lord Snow?" Aegon asked. "My good-brother Jaenyx Belaerys is older and has led men longer than I have. You should ask him if he wants to be king. Also, I'm not sure if it was wise to bring up a betrothal when I don't have children yet."
"Jaenyx Belaerys shall be a king over his own domains, Lord Aegon," Brandon replied. "But, he is only a recent arrival to Westeros and therefore has no connection to this land. You and your house, on the other hand, have been here long enough to know what Westeros is. If there is anyone that has already proven to bring profound change to this land, it will be your family. However, the choice is now between either you or your father, Lord Aegon. And your first child will come soon, and our houses will connected in the future."
Aegon became more shocked, but he was brought out of his stupor by Aerion.
"Then, I shall step aside, Lord Snow," Aerion said. More murmurs broke out and Aegon looked at his father in shock.
"My lord," Torrhen addressed him. "I would suggest that you take a moment before making such a momentous decision. Today was undoubtedly trying for you and your family, so I extend to you the North's hospitality while all of you can discuss the matter at hand."
"We don't have time," Lord Aerion shook his head. "We need the strength of the North to fight alongside us today, but I will not waste another day by discussing the matter. I am too old and much of my strength has diminished over the years, and I cannot produce heirs anymore. So, I will be a shit king if I decide to pursue it." The northern lords chuckled, amused that a southern lord would be so unfiltered with his words. "Therefore, my son Aegon should be king."
"Father—" Aegon tried to say but he was cut off.
"But we will accept your hospitality and I will spend no more than a day trying to convince my son why this is the best course of action for us," Aerion said.
Torrhen nodded. "Of course, my lord. You and your family shall know the fabled hospitality of the north." He then addressed to the rest of the great hall. "My lords and ladies, that'll be all for today. We shall reconvene on the morrow to discuss our next action." With that, the northern houses were dismissed for the day.
Brandon led the dragonlords to the guest quarters of Widow's Watch, with Autumn at his side. He had no doubt that the Valyrians had many questions, but all of them would have to wait until later.
Brandon felt Rhaenys walk up beside him. "Is this what you meant by us being the rulers of the Seven Kingdoms?"
"Yes," Brandon simply answered. "And this is the first step, my lady. As your good-brother Lord Jaenyx said, all of you must think bigger and the war with the Faith merely shows you how important it is to do just that."
"I'm not sure that—"
"My lady," Brandon stopped to look at Rhaenys. "I can't give you all the answers, because to do so would only add to your and your family's confusion. Take the day to let this all sink in and we can discuss it fully on the morrow. But like your father said, you need to make a decision quickly, as the war in the south still rages on."
Rhaenys exhaled through her nose. "I do thank you for letting us know beforehand, although I wish you could've gave us more details."
"It had to be done in this way," Brandon answered. "And… seeing your faces when my brother told you of the pact did light up my day." He imitated their shocked faces.
Rhaenys scoffed. "See you on the morrow, Lord Snow. Hopefully, you don't do any brooding that'll give you wrinkles," she parted with her imitating a brooding face and giving a last pat to Autumn, who appreciated her touch. Brandon chuckled in amusement as he eyed each of the dragonlords. Aegon and Valaena nodded to him and Aerion and Visenya were unsure what to think of him.
However, Brandon needed to speak with Jaenyx a final time before they separated for the day. "If you can spare a moment, Lord Belaerys?"
Jaenyx gave Visenya a kiss before turning to Brandon. "What do you want, Lord Snow?"
"I told the great hall that you will be a king over your own lands, and I have spoken the truth. But you will not rule Westeros in your lifetime."
"I don't really care, Lord Snow," Jaenyx answered. "But you say that I will be a king. Why will that be?"
"All of us have a purpose as dictated by the gods, whichever ones we choose to follow. For you, all I can say is that you will be important in restoring the ways of Valyria back to relevance, and your reign shall see Valyria emerged in a new and better form. You and your future queen, Visenya."
"Hmmm…" Jaenyx managed to say. "How do you know High Valyrian?"
"Every noble in Westeros receives an education in that tongue. I spent some time in White Harbour, where a Volantene tutored me. Brutal man he was, I was able to speak it during my time with him."
"Interesting life you must've had, Lord Snow."
"Indeed. Well," Brandon turned to leave Jaenyx to catch up with his wife and her family. "I look forward to our next conversation, Lord Jaenyx."
"Likewise, Lord Brandon," Jaenyx bobbed his head before proceeding into the guest chambers.
Brandon exited the castle and after being informed helped the crew from the twenty vessels of House Velaryon dock near the castle and find suitable quarters for them. It has begun.