Chapter Text
Thuviel didn´t know what he should be expecting when the doors opened to what their guide called the Blessed Realm, but a bustling elven city was not amongst them. It was easily bigger than Ellesmera or Ilirea in it´s splendor… and that was the biggest cities he had ever seen. His companions weren´t much different, specially when they noticed the big mountain that hovered over the city. Or everything that was around it. He gritted his teeth, looking up the place where the beings whose existence he and several others of his species had denied all their long lives clearly lived. And without even concerning themselves with the lives of the people that were supposed to be their responsibility. For some time, Thuviel felt the need to march towards that place and demand them to answer why they never did anything for their people, for the dwarves and the men in their land. But he needed to bite his tongue for the moment.
“Let´s go” Vrael said as they walked towards the mountain. “Before we cross something even more surprising in the way.”
It was almost as if he was asking for surprises. For some strange reason, they found a great one only a few steps further into the way. They all couldn´t help but gasp. Not even in Ellésmera had they seen so many elves… not even during their festivities. And the children… there were so many of them… so many and running around the way, when their people struggled to even have one or two every century. How could there be such a fecund race of elves? Because they were definitely not the same kind of elves that he knew. Their manes were as gold as the sun´s light in the sky and their eyes a tone of green that hasn´t been seen before. Though there were also ones with dark and silver hair, eyes other tones, but they were sparse. But still, their features seemed like… even fairer than their own race of Alageishä. In fact, him, Vrael and Oromis were also even fairer than in their other life after passing that door. It was as if an artist had taken their initial features and made them even more beautiful…
“Nye nórë linta, meldo?” one ventor asked him directly and Thuviel didn´t know what to answer. He… he simply didn´t understand. Why didn´t these elves speak the same language as them?
“No, thank you” he answered. There was some confusion in the golden haired seller´s eyes, but still he went away. He had understood them.
“Are you sure? I´m a bit thirsty myself” Oromis said, feeling his dry lips with his tongue.
“He was selling, we don´t have any money… besides, I didn´t truly understand him or what kind of beverage he was selling.”
“I think it was jasmine tea” Vrael said. He had a keen sense of smell.
Could it be… that there were more than one race of elves here? And the Ancient Language of the Grey Folk… the being that received them hadn´t apparently been one of them? As he walked past the market, he could see more and more of the city. It´s precious architecture, loudness at the same time as harmony, the artisan works that were displayed in the market by black haired, tall elves that clearly were travelers from not too far… they had everything Ellésmera would have wanted and more. Why had their ancestors decided to leave such a place? Or did they… leave together from somewhere else and for some whim of destiny, his kind ended up on the other world and these ones here? Much like he ended up stranded in Valyria, starting the dragonlord´s tradition. From the ancient histories, he heard his ancestors were fleeing a great evil, maybe…
“Ow!!!”
“I´m sorry!!” Thuviel said, having been so distracted with his thoughts that he hadn´t seen the elf that he had just bumped in. Right by his side, there was another elf, with golden hair pretty much like most the elves in that city, but distinctively taller. “It wasn´t my intention to threw you to the ground, I apologize.”
“There is no problem” the elf switched languages, surprisingly, using the ancient language as he dusted himself. “But why are you using Maiarin? Normally, people here use quenya, or if you are a prude from Elu Thingol´s court, Sindarin.”
“Mai… arin?” he asked. Was that the name they have for Ancient Language? “You speak it too?”
“Quite well, for someone that was not born here. It´s just that I had to learn to deal with… certain people who as probably the only bigger prudes than that Elvenking” so they had a king here, pretty much like they had. Was he the authority he must look for? “But tell me, what are you doing speaking maiarin in the middle of the market of Valimar? It´s true that most people here spoke it, but normally it´s left when talking to the Valar.”
“The Valar?”
“You are a strange one without doubt, your companions too” the golden haired one talked for the first time. “Do you really don´t know the Powers of the World? Exactly how much time were you in Mandos?”
“Man… what?”
“You are dressed in the tunics of the recently returned, so you must come from there” the elf continued. “Did you become lost while searching for your family? They must have been there to receive you, normally notifications are sent.”
Notifications? Was that… a normal thing to come back from the death for them? Now that he saw it, there were some… differences to the other elves if you see closely in the dark haired one´s face. They were small, but there. A half-elf? But weren´t they supposed to be even rarer than… no, there was no time to ponder on this. He needed to ask for the help of whoever could stop the Evil, no matter that it was the King or those Powers of the World. And for that he needed… wait, they need to show some basic courtesy first. They couldn´t pass as some rude barbarians or Urgals, after all.
“My apologies too, I have been discourteous to you, talking so much without presenting myself or my companions” he said, bowed deeply. “I´m Thuviel from the House of Valtharos, and these are my friends Vrael from the House of Miolandra and Oromis Thranduin.”
“Thranduin?” the other frowned. “Are you perhaps a relative of King Thranduil from the Dark Forest?” the question made the other master freeze. Could he have… relatives in this world? And one of them was the King? “Apologize, my Lord, but I have never heard of so. The only ones I know as part of his family are his father Oropher and his son Legolas.”
“I have no knowledge of a King Thranduil” Oromis answered, saying the complete truth. This seemed to surprise them a lot. “We are here on a faithful trip, hoping to find some help in a quest to save our world.”
“Wha…”
“But if King Thranduil is the one that rules this land…”
“Valimar is ruled by one of the most ancient Elvenkings, King Ingwë. In comparison, Thranduil Orophenion is very young” the elf answered, he and his friend exchanging looks. “And what was that you were telling us about the world being in danger. Two dark lords have been banished already, and we all thought that our battle days were over.”
“I don´t know what you call a dark Lord, but…it´s easier to show than to explain” this was normal between their people, but it was still highly rude to do it without permission. “Would you mind me communicating mind to mind with you?”
“You mean using Osanwë?”
“If that means allowing me to show you my thoughts and memories…”
“Yes, that´s exactly what I meant” then he remembered something. “Oh, forgive me, I was also being rude. I´m Erestor, a councilor of Lord Elrond, a Prince of the Noldor, and this is Lord Glorfindel.”
“My Lords” they said respectfully, but something seemed to surprise both natives.
“This is not the reaction we usually get to elves meeting Glorfindel of the Golden Flower for the first time in real life. Certainly… you came from very far.” Erestor then shook his head, showing a golden earring with an eight pointed star hanging from it. “Do you recognize this symbol? Does it mean something for you?”
“Is it supposed so?”
Erestor seemed suspicious, but still allowed the communication mind to mind. After seeing everything he had to offer, even the information he had recollected from the other side, his eyes opened widely. His friend practically had to catch him before he felt to the ground, all color banished from his face. The other waited patiently until he had recovered the rhythm of his breath and the steadiness of his legs. It was obvious that he knew of this great Evil that was lurking in the corners of their world.
“No… that´s not possible… Ancalagon the Black… and that evil was banished at the end of the First Age… the Valar were supposed to make it impossible to…” he seemed to come to himself, then looked at his companion, saying one word in a whisper. The color drained from his face, his frame trembling as if he was remembering something traumatic. “Is that…”
“I wouldn´t put anything past that being anymore” the golden-haired elf was suddenly a battle-ready warrior. “Please, go to Tol Eressëa. If this is true, we are going to need more help to convince the Powers to act. You know that…” the other nodded, running away from them. Glorfindel sighed. “This way. If you are with me, the King of the Vanyar, Ingwë, is going to receive you. He is close with Manwë, King of the Valar, so he could get us an audience in front of them immediately.”
“Will he?”
“If this is what we suspect, then there is not a moment to lose.”
They followed Glorfindel until they arrived to a palace that was definitely more beautiful than the one build in Ellesméra. The elf talked to the guards in that weird language from before, then was allowed to pass. As they crossed the corridors full of paintings and statues, it was made clear that these elves couldn´t be more different to the ones Thuviel knew. They considered religion very important in their culture… perhaps because they weren´t faced with the hardships of their own world. Or maybe because they lived practically under the mountain where the so-called Great Powers reside. The apparently famous elf and the male he guessed was King Ingwë exchanged a few words, then this one got up, kissed his mate´s hands and asked them in the Ancient Language… Maiarin… to come with him. That he was going to take them before the Ring of Doom…
“I knew that there was a reason our people lost their faith in these Powers, but could they have at least warned us about their dramatism?” Vrael mentioned, obviously trying to light the humor up. Something needed, because it turned out that getting up a Mountain without a dragon, with newly formed bodies, was harder than he remembered. “Ring of Doom, what an awful name to…”
“Halt!!”
A being that was clearly not an elf or a man or anything they had ever seen appeared. It must be one of the Grey Folk that they had heard about, Thuviel concluded, facing the creature whose eyes were fixated on them. Strange, he had always pictured the Grey Folk as something more vaporous, not so corporeal as this one was. And full of light… it was even coming out it´s eyes, eyes that resembled the ones of a falcon or some kind of predatory bird. He opened his mouth to talk, but King Ingwë spoke first.
“Hail Eonwë, herald of Manwë Súlimo, King of Arda” he said, very carefully. “I have come today to request an audience with the Ring of Doom, concerning news recently brought to us by these Firstborn.”
“I don´t see why you couldn´t tell him in your usual meetings, when he visits the palace to hear the new works of your poets and philosophers and drink tea.”
“They are quite urgent, Lord Eonwë, so please, allow us passage.”
“I´m in doubt, especially as you showed up in such… company”
The Grey Folk male stared at the other golden-haired elf, who returned the look without fear and even some pride. Curious, he had thought this particular male was a famous warrior or something like that, not an infamous one. He said he was quite well known… and everything suggested that it was in a good way. Still, there were suspicions in the eyes of the feathered being that was looking at him. Eonwë was his name, no? And he was supposed to be the herald of…
“But seeing that your usual company is not here and the King Ingwë responds for you today, I´m going to announce you. If Lord Manwë allows it, then I will allow you to enter” the being disappeared and then reappeared in a few minutes. “The Valar will receive you now. State your names before the Ring of Doom.”
“Thuviel Valtharos”
“Oromis Thranduin”
“Vrael Miolandra”
“Curious names… are you Grey Elves? Sindar?”
“Grey Elves? Sindar?”
“It doesn´t matter for now, I supposed.” Eonwë said as the door was opened for them. Suddenly Thuviel felt like he was walking into an audience with King Evandar… no, something much more ominous and terrible than King Evandar and all his host. “Go in and explain your issues to the Valar.”
Thuviel started to walk, his entire frame shivering when he entered the place. Truly, it was something that felt like… Suddenly, they were surrounded by Thrones. Thrones holding beings that could only be compared to the images he had seen in the dwarven temples, being he had sworn again and again didn´t exist… how could he had believed that they didn´t exist? Or that the elves, even with their vast knowledge of magical arts and the like, could ever throw them out of their places of power? Had it ever… then he noticed a broken throne in a corner, one made with dark stone. Had… one of them once occupied it? Was it possible for one of them to be cast down? But… but if it was… elves…
“You are before the Court of the Valar, the Ring of Doom” the one obviously presiding the Audience… and the world and beyond, apparently… said as they stood on the center of the room. When had they got there? “Now, my herald mentioned that you bring news of urgency that we should be aware of. What did you want to share with us?”
“…” Thuviel didn´t know what to say and even Oromis and Vrael, great sages on their own right, had been rendered speechless.
“If you aren´t capable of explaining…”
“Great Lord Manwë!!!” Glorfindel intervened on their behalf, clearly more used to be in the company of such powers than them, who merely a few years ago had doubted the very existence of even the afterlife. “These elves bring grave news about the Dark Lord´s fate. It seems that despite his banishment, he had seen fit to mess not only with this world, but with others, with the aim to return to full power.”
“Sauron? It would be impossible even for him…”
“It´s not him who we are concerned about” Ingwë said. “But he might come back alongside his master or that he had something to do with what is happening. He had always been a tricky one where his master was more direct.” He said, gaining the attention of all the powerful beings there. “What my kinsman was trying to say was…”
“Be direct, please.”
“Morgoth is back”
There were whispers amongst the Powers of the World, but all of them looked worried at the mention of Melkor. One of them, a female one that was dressed in what seemed like an endless dress that kept weaving itself, even asked if he was truly sure of what they were claiming, sneaking some looks to the broken throne. It meant that… the being that used to seat them was… he didn´t want to even think about what something like that would do to his world or his descendants´. Galbatorix and his Shade were problem enough to put his own people in hiding for centuries… what could such a thing do to them? As they offered their memories as proof of their word, they seemed to worry even more, but the one presiding the Audience, Manwë seemed to stubbornly refuse to believe that “his disgraced older brother” had returned. In any and all worlds.
“My Lords…”
“He was bound by Angainor and thrown out of Time and Space, unable to interfere in this world anymore!! In fact, in any world!! There is no way that…”
“All the Contrary!!” another voice joined. “That makes more the sense!!”
There was silence as another person… elf… barged into the room, accompanied by Erestor. So he was the one that he was told to bring, thought Thuviel as he watched the elf confidently walk towards the powerful beings despite his clear intrusion. It was like… he wasn´t afraid of facing them. At seeing him, the dragonrider had the same impression as when he saw Erestor… and stranger enough, Angela. It was as if in him converged three races at the same time. But how it could be? Half-elves were supposed to be born infertile. And it was strange enough that a Grey Folk managed to produce some kind of offspring. Even Angela, who was young for one of them, had failed to birth a child despite her interactions with males of the same kind or another race.
“Elrond Peredhel” Manwë said, clearly annoyed. As Erestor silently followed him, practically hiding in his more powerful shadow, the strange being approached. He was dressed in dark robes, clearly in mourning, a simple circlet of fine gold, though the greatest piece of work he had ever seen, adorned his braids. “Don´t think you can use this situation to plead your case. We are talking about a complete different kind of criminal to…”
“My Lords, I´m aware of that, but also that you should hear these fine néri” he answered, clearly confident. “After all, the last time that monster was allowed to roam free in our world, it was a disaster that left only Doom and Death. I was young back then, too young one might say, to really remember what his darkness brought to this realm… but I would never forget what the cost was to me and mine.”
“If there was a Dark Lord or is a Dark Lord in a world, it´s something it´s inhabitants surely could…”
“Not if it was the original and most powerful One” Elrond Peredhel continued. “Or have you truly forgotten that it was only due to the intervention of your host that he was actually brought to justice? Are you so blind to think that if we allow him to do as he wants this time too, it will be too late for even us…”
“Careful with how to talk, Peredhel” Manwë said, clearly tired of this issue. “You were young back there, as you said, but not young enough not to have hear the tale of your grandfather and his deeds. Be careful not to end up like him, impertinent as he was.”
“Of course, I know the tale of my grandfather´s ill-fated Oath… but wasn´t that Oath also spurned because of your own desire to not intervene despite what it could happen far away from here? And now that we are talking about ill-fated omens, isn´t because of your own condemnation of his decision to pursue Morgoth and recover the property he stole from him, property that you bestowed as if it was yours when it never was nor Thingol´s, that many of those horrible things happened?”
“You are crossing the line”
“No, I´m merely stating facts, my Lord” Lord Elrond continued, despite the looks he was receiving from his subordinates. “It was you who condemned the wish of my grandfather to pursue him, calling it greed, and perhaps it was, but it was also the desire to avenge his father, the only parent he had during much of his life, when the right course of action would have been cutting the problem when it was still on the bud… and we were still whole. The Noldor suffered many grievances because of that.”
“The Noldor or the Feanorian loyalists?”
“Both”
“You suffered because a selfish little elf didn´t desire to back down and dared to disobey our decisions” Manwë said, still frowning. “Now, I agree with these néri that there is a dark creature, maybe even a Dark Lord, in any of those worlds. But that doesn´t mean it´s my brother who is acting up. It could as well be one of those powerful Shades they have in theirs or that Bloodstone Emperor acting.”
“Would you leave it up to luck again? And when are we going to react if it´s indeed Morgoth who is behind this, when he is banging at our doors?”
“Very well” The King of the World answered, his eyes daring him to do something. “If it´s my brother as you fear, then prove it. If you hand me a definitive proof, then I´m not going to argue anymore and send our host to combat him. I will even pardon those criminals you wanted me to and put them in front of the host.”
“Are you speaking truth, my Lord?”
“On my name and the One that created me and the whole worlds, I promise that” Manwë promised. “I put all here as witnesses of that promise given to Elrond Peredhel, Son of Maglor, Son of Fëanor, that I will. Why shouldn´t I? After all, they are some of the most capable war commanders the Firstborn ever had, with experience against my brother to boot, and we are going to need some of those if Melkor is to rise again. Wouldn´t that be the right thing to do? Sensible even?”
“I hear and obey then, my Lord” Elrond bowed. “I will take my leave now.”
Thuviel didn´t know exactly what happened or how the elf Lord was going to try and handle this, but he wasn´t about to be left behind by all the elves there. As he got out of the Powers of the World´s presence, he felt more and more comfortable. Now he understood why they called it the Rong of Doom… it was obvious that it was what everyone but the ones that govern the World were meant to be comfortable there. He was about to talk to the other, but he saw the somber looks the other elves were giving him. Thuviel thought that what happened here wasn´t exactly a good thing. But Elrond seemed confident.
“I´m sorry for whatever the problem was that…”
“Don´t worry” the other elf lord answered in a clear Maiarin, his eyes suddenly looking clearer. “That old Vala has been dismissing my attempts to have an audience since I presented my case for the first time. You have now given me the opportunity to make that idiot listen to me, even if you bring such horrible news.”
“I´m sorry” he bowed his head. “It´s in part my fault. If only I had been better at teaching my son morals…”
“Down the line, it was doomed to happen. Parents might wish one thing, but eventually it´s our children the ones who decide to follow our advice or not. For the good or the bad” he sighed tiredly. “I´m talking of second hand experience, of course. My brother Elros, may his soul be in peace, left a vast progeny behind after his mortal life came to an end. And despite his careful education and my own attempts at keeping them from committing many mistakes, some of his descendants went down a dark path too.”
“I hope that not all of them. In my case, there were some rays of light.”
“Yes, some of them were good… even if amongst them were weak willed ones too. Easy to succumb to…”
“ELROND!!”
Thuviel and the named lord interrupted their talk to look at the elf that was approaching now. The other rushed and went to help the newly arrived one, who started coughing hard as soon as he stopped. And even without the cough, Thuviel would have noticed that there was something wrong with him. It was only that… he had never seen such a sickly-looking elf, not even the half-mad dragonriders that lost their dragons. He was breathing hard, very hard, and his skin was almost transparent, with circles around his eyes. The outfit that he was wearing in that moment looked more like something a bed ridden person from a house of healing would use than a normal healthy elf. Erestor approached to help his lord support the other better while Glorfindel and Ingwë shook their heads, speaking amongst themselves in their language. Thuviel tried to catch something, but he didn´t manage very well. Only a name to put to the face: Malgor. So that was Maglor. And… he couldn´t help but ponder if this was done to him by the Dark Lord currently stalking the outskirts of his world and the other.
“If this are the consequences of fighting evil, then so be it”
-Somewhere else-
“You scared me, yonya” Maglor said as he was laid down on his bed again. Normally, he wouldn´t be able to get up more than to go to the garden or to sit by the fireplace, receiving scarce visits, but… “When they told me you had gone to see the Ring of Doom…”
“It was nothing” the peredhel said, assuring his father. “I was only helping Erestor and Glorfindel with something, I didn´t do anything dangerous. Trust me, atto, I´m not going to put either of us in danger.”
Maglor had been very sick when Elrond found him, just before departing, but he had hoped that Aman would help him recover. Instead, he remained fragile and sickly… and in need of constant watching unless he took some illness. It had been since they arrived. Elrond wondered if the Valar didn´t have a hand in that… but he won´t risk seeking an answer to that question. He only treated the symptoms as he waited for things to get better, for his father to be able to sing again without having to pause to breath. Or just walk without having to stop paces away to try and breath again. So were his thoughts as he mixed atelas and eucalypt leaves in heated water and put it again on the fire so the air ducts could be more open… or if he was going to have to open his rib cage again to cut infected and diseased tissue again…
“Elrond… you know that I love you, son, don´t you?”
“I know, atto, I know…”
“And that Nelyo and Elros loved you too, no?”
“Yes, I´m aware…”
“Then you should know that… nothing is worth your life or your soul. Not even me… nothing” he stated as he slowly descended into dreamland, the medication from before finally kicking in. “No matter what happens to me or to my brothers, you and the twins… and little Estel and Arwen and their children… they have to live long and happy lives, eternal if it´s possible… don´t let this old elf stop you from that…”
“Don´t get so poetic now… and don´t talk, you can barely breath by now” Elrond said as he covered his father. “Sleep for now”
“Promise, yonya, promise me you will…”
“A long, eternal and happy life, I know” he answered, smiling softly. “I get it, you only… make sure to keep getting better, okay?”
Elrond waited until his father was asleep to get out of the room and cover his face. It wasn´t working, nothing he did ever worked on this damn sickness. No matter how many tumors he removed, or how many treatments he applied, nothing was working. Even songs of power in maiarin were useless… hence his suspicions. Don´t misunderstand him, he lived like any elf under the grace of the Valar and his life was well… but he was raised by Feanorians, worse, by the Sons of Fëanor themselves, so he always had a healthy amount of suspicious about the Valar. And knew what they were capable of. The Oath had been the fault of Fëanor, but the failure on their part… the Valar plaid a role in that. Their curse on his parents have made everything worse for everyone and…
“I don´t know what you were thinking, promising something like that” Glorfindel scolded him in clear quenya. “There is no way for you to achieve what you said you did without leaving Valinor and if you leave…”
“That they don´t have any intention of allowing none of us to leave, not even for this?” that I knew. “Fortunately, there is no need for me to go anywhere.
Curiously I know someone that is allowed to leave in a regular way.”
“Who would…” the golden haired elf felt his eyes go wide. “No… haven´t you tortured him enough already?!! Stop using the poor Eärendil as some way to relieve your stress and getting what you want!! He feels guilty enough already!!”
“Well, he should have stayed. Parents are the ones who raised, not the ones who planted the seed and bear it. A biological bond means almost nothing when you don´t have a face to link the emotion to. And those faces… they are completely different by now.” the healer´s eyes wandered towards the door that he recently closed. “Besides, it´s not like he is not going to win anything from this. In the message I sent before, I merely told him that I would accept his proposition to go on the Vingilottë tomorrow.”
“Elrond…”
“He might think it´s for a different think, I don´t know his mind… but I know mine and it hasn´t changed” his eyes wandered from the displeased Glorfindel towards Erestor. “Cousin, please make sure that my father remains alive” his face turned serious. “I´m afraid that even if I get proof of what is going on, if he dies before I make Manwë do good on his promise, he might throw all of our family out into the Void and use that excuse to not bring them back.”
“You heard him, he put Eru and the other Valar as witnesses and swore on his own name…”
“I never trusted them, specially Manwë. If someone could find an excuse not to bring them back and convince them that it´s well… besides, it might have been Námo who spoke the Doom, but I´m sure it was Manwë behind it. And I´m not taking any chances.”
“What he said about having capable and experienced battle commanders for this crusade is true” Laurefindil continued. “It would not be wise to waste such capable commanders, they will be safe as long as they needed them.”
“There are plenty of capable and tested battle commanders from the First Age here. Their cousins, not going too far. Of course, one could argue that Maedhros is the best, but… well, that has never stopped Manwë before. He would prefer less quality so long as he kept the so-called peace here.”
“Have some faith…”
“Keep him alive until I come back” Elrond instructed. “I´m going to prove our grandfather right in at least one thing.”
-In Winterfell-
Ramsay Snow´s head was on a pike over the castle walls as a warning about what was to happen to anyone who want to take Winterfell from the Starks. Vanir and Ophelia had left that very morning, just after he took the head of the demented bastard, not even offering some words to tell him not to. It was fair, as according to the elf, who had screened his mind, the man was one of the most devious things he had found in his way, so much that he was surprised the mind didn´t belong to a Shade or a Forsworn. The madness that eroded it, the acts that he committed… he had talked to Ser Rodrik and the old knight had left the castle that morning under the custody of himself and Mimring so he could help find and gather the remains of Ramsay´s victims… and those of Lord Bolton. Because they have found quite the interesting thing about Lord Bolton when they were searching the lunatic´s mind.
But that was not what mattered now. He had put Brandon and Rickon to bed that night, under guard. He had ordered the kraken banners to be put on the courtyard and burned them with Mimring´s fire. He had watched them burn all night, as the guards put up the direwolf banners. He wondered for a second if he shouldn´t have kept them up… but no, the Ironborn had fled the North already. One fight against Ophelia´s fire was enough for most of them to turn their ships and flee back to their beloved rocks. It didn´t mean that they weren´t troubles, no, the pirate scum would always be a problem, but it was one that could be handled later. Now, the problem was to keep the food reserves safe and to make sure everyone was prepared for Winter, especially considering that that this one was going to be longer than they all expected, even the maesters. And while he was at that…
“Why?” he asked when he found himself in front of the dungeon that contained Theon Greyjoy, whose pathetic form was sitting on the floor, probably still wondering how things had gone so bad. “Why did you do this?”
“Who are you?”
“I´m Jacaerys Targaryen, son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, cousin and almost twin brother of Robb… he might have heard about Jon Snow, no?”
“You certainly aren´t like he described you” he said, getting up. “From what he said, I almost pictured you as a younger Ned Stark… but he didn´t tell me you were prettier than his sister.”
“Hummm… don´t change the subject, answer my question”
Jacaerys himself knew that he probably had changed a the most since that shared childhood of them. Enough to make himself almost unrecognizable by Robb. He had grown into his looks, managing somehow to appear more elvish than his father despite being half northerner. He also dressed in the elvish way, with long tunics that seemed to be made with a water like material. His hair was left long, far much longer than any northmen, and it was braided and decorated in the elvish way, pretty much like his uncle Viserys´. It was proof of both his elvish heritage and the influence of the culture on him… and he was far from the brooding child he was when they last saw each other.
“Why did you do it, Theon Greyjoy? Why did you betray Robb? He trusted you, even spoke about you as if you were his own brother…” as if you had taken my place, he truly meant, but he was not going to speak that out loud. “Why did you betray him and my uncle? From what I heard, he treated you better than any Lord would do with a hostage…”
“Because he wasn´t my own family. And my father… he recognized my sister so easily, but didn´t the same with me. He didn´t saw me as a son, as his heir, not even as an Ironborn… all because I didn´t spent my time raiding the seas, because I had to play the hostage and Greenlander here instead of…”
“And you would exchange all those years of care and friendship for the recognition of a man whose stupidity was the one that landed you in this situation?” he asked, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms. “Betray the ones that became your family for people you haven´t seen in years, haven´t even written to you in years? Don´t try to say otherwise, I can see the truth in your face.”
“Asha cared…”
“She cared, indeed” he answered. “And apparently was the only one you should have considered your family from those you share blood with. Though if I were her, I would have taken you with me by force out of Winterfell before you could fall in that obvious trap…Vanir told me that Ramsay Snow brought that host to take over Winterfell… and what he planned for you wasn´t anything pretty.”
“I would have dealt with him”
“Considering that I have met Urgals less messed up in the head, I don´t believe so”
“I could…”
“But that isn´t what is important here” Jace said as he turned around. “You hurt my family in a way they might not even recover from, but being able to confront you for your sins might be the beginning of that healing. Be happy, Theon Greyjoy, you are going to live for a bit more. If only to contribute to Robb´s and uncle Ned´s healing.”
“You are a weird one, Jon Snow” the prisoner expressed. “To call an execution healing…”
“I called confrontation healing, the execution is just the law. And in that, I don´t have a hand on.” He answered as he walked away, not really wanting to talk with that sorry excuse of a man more. “It´s simply the law of the men of this land”
The law was not perfect, he knew that, in no way was perfect in any place. Not even in Ellesméra. He had seen the way elves lived and lived that life along with them as he trained, as his father trained and as he walked alongside Vanir, who was practically another parent alongside a mentor to him, as he had helped raising him even more than the other riders and taught him everything he knew. He had been the one to teach him that while the laws were not fair and justice was not met in many cases, they existed for some reason. All races and creatures that lived in groups should stick to them so some measure of justice and order in the society could be attained.
“My Lord… Prince” Maester Luwin bowed to him. It was so strange… being called like that in a place where he had been only the bastard. Not even in Ellesméra was he addressed like that and they knew he was not only royalty, but of the noble blood of Valtharos. “A raven arrived in the middle of the night bearing the seal of Lord Stark.”
“What does it say, maester?”
“Lady Catelyn is apparently on the way, apparently having had just recovered from a syncope after learning what her younger sons had gone through in Winterfell. The raven with Theon Greyjoy´s letter just arrived when your message was also delivered…”
“I see” with his aunt in the way and Ser Rodrik to return any day, he didn´t have anything interfering with him joining the other dragonriders in the Wall as soon as possible. He should just wait for her to arrive and take over the castle. “Anything else?”
“You should read it, it had a heartfelt apology from Lord Robb. The young Lord explains there that he never thought Theon would do such a thing.” maester Luwin added. “And Lord Stark´s explanation telling you that the boys grew up together, that there was no reason for Robb to even suspect that…” he held a hand up. No reason? Theon was a bloody Ironborn, even if he had been raised by the Starks. Of course he would put his own people first and betray him. “He assures you that he will do justice by him, no matter what. The two of them assure you of that.”
“I couldn´t ask for anything else” he continued walking, the maester right behind him. “Another thing?”
“A raven from the Wall, from a certain Murtagh Morzansson” his father´s teacher… “He said that he along with his brother and other masters of the Order of the Dragonriders had accompanied the Black Brothers on a Great range beyond the Wall, leaded by Lord Commander Mormont. There are also rumors that a King Beyond the Wall is amazing an army of wildlings to cross the Wall and raid the South…”
“Or is probably fleeing from the danger” he said as he arrived in front of a door. Before even knocking on it, he sighed. “Have there any news been about my uncle Viserys and the entourage he was supposed to be bringing here?”
“I don´t see how that´s going to…”
“Maester, Angela the Herbalist is my uncles´ teacher and one of the greatest healers in Alageishä. Surely she is going to be able to do something about Bran´s legs” he answered. The maester didn´t seem convinced, but… “Remember that you have seen the power of magic now, it´s time you see how it´s harnessed by a proper healer.”
“It´s not the power of magic that I don´t trust, but those people… couldn´t you heal Lord Brandon yourself like you did with the injured after the battle?”
“I´m no healer to know how to heal a broken spine, especially one that had suffered such a trauma so long ago that it has healed in the wrong way and lost the connection of the nerves between the upper body and the lower one” he explained. “Angela is a master healer, though, and more powerful with magic than I am. I´m sure she will be able to heal my cousin… and there is still Elva if something goes wrong.”
“Elva?”
“The least is said about that Witch Child, the better.”
Jon entered the room after saying that. He, pretty much like Vanir and half the dragonriders, have a healthy amount of fear towards the Witch Child that boasts of having the strongest healing powers. Elva was a being that unnerved many people, though he had the fortune… or the infortune, of meeting her more than once. In another tone, the last time, he had gotten her out of an unfortunate meeting with a warlock that wanted to kill her for refusing to heal his wife, so she owed him a favor… and she said so, so she would heal Brandon if he asked so… but he didn´t want to expose his little cousins to that girl…
“Jon!!” Rickon screamed, running towards him. The child was very energetic, perhaps enough to make him wonder how he had remained so long in hiding. “Are you here to take me to fly on the Dragon? I want to be like Ronnel Arryn!!!”
“I think we better do so before your mother arrives” he said, not wanting to give his aunt more causes to hate him, like he was sure Sharra Arryn had done with Visenya. “I´m sure Lady Catelyn wouldn´t want to see you over a dragon” the little boy pouted. “What´s wrong, little wolf? Aren´t you happy to see your mother?”
“She left, I don´t like her anymore”
“Aww, little one…”
As he tried to convince little Rickon that his mother didn´t want to abandon him and his brother when she left, that she still loved him, he couldn´t help but wonder what his aunt would say when she arrived. It was obvious that Lady Catelyn and his uncle hadn´t exactly been talkative about him. The one that preserved his existence after his apparent death was Robb, telling their little brothers about their dead older brother that was like a twin to him and how he was… he was grateful, but it shade light onto what exactly his older relatives thought about him. He was a nuisance, better to be kept away for everyone´s sake…
“Jon” a sleepy Rickon asked as he was finally laid into bed. “Is Bran really going to heal with the people you called?”
“I hope so, little wolf, I hope so.”
Rickon nodded off and Jace let him sleep. The older boy left the room as he did, leaving him in the company of Shagggydog, sure that he would be okay in the direwolf´s company. He went to the solar that belonged to his uncle and continued to work. Brandon had done a good job, but he was just a child. He surely can´t do all the duties that belonged to the Lord of Winterfell with only a few advisors. And Theon had made a mess. They were going to need a lot of work to recover in time for Winter… or the Long Night… As he went to sleep that night, he looked through a window to see the Wandering Star on the sky.
“What a beautiful star” he said to himself. “It´s almost like it´s bringing hope to us all”