A Prince of House Targaryen Chapter 80 (A Dance in The Sky) (Patreon)

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'Promise, Promise me, Ned.' Lyanna's voice quivered, her voice losing its strength; he grasped her palm tightly. He opened his mouth, ready to swear, ready to tell her that he would deliver her baby to Rhaegar, to tell her that her son would be alright, but a lump formed in his throat, and suddenly, he couldn't speak. 

He heard the sound of wings clapping and a crow letting out a cry from behind him. Lyanna's eyes bore into him as if looking at his soul; his entire body shook to the core.

"What are you doing? Did you forget what you came here to do?" A gasp escaped his throat, his hands cold with sweat, his eyes blurry, as a voice spoke close to his ear. A weak sob escaped from his throat as he remembered Robert's body, his face already being eaten by maggots.

"What House Targaryen did to your family. To your father?" Brandon, stop reaching for the Sword...

"Brandon?" ...Almost... there...

"Robert?" I'm sorry...Lyanna...

"Lyanna?" Promise, Promise me, Ned...

"Don't forget that you made this Decision..."

With a Gasp, Ned blinked several times; he shielded his eyes with his arms from the morning's sunlight that poured inside the room like water. He looked around; he could feel the cold bite of the wind around him, and his back felt like a block of ice. He rolled his body around; his arms felt numb and itchy. He almost expected to see Catelyn for a moment, but then, as he heard the wind blowing outside, the new recruits training, their swords clashing in the courtyard, he remembered, and he felt his heart sink down like a rock.

He remembered. I'm at the Wall, with sudden bitterness in his mouth. He could hear Arya crying, begging him to stay longer, but in the end, he needed to leave them, and now here he was, at the end of the world. Ned stood up from his bed; his back felt frozen solid. He was used to the cold, but not this type of cold. A part of him wondered if being fostered at the Vale had caused it, but he didn't have time to think as the door opened, and one of his Night's Watch brothers stepped inside.

"Lord Stark, it's good to see you awake, I hope you had a good night of sleep," The man spoke too many words for Ned's taste, but he never said much. His name was Jalan, and his words were full of compliments. Ned wasn't sure why; only a month had passed since his arrival, and the Old Bear hadn't been present to greet him, but Jalan and the Blacksmith of Castle Black, Donal Noye, were there to greet him; Ned would have laughed at their faces if he was in the mood when they were told why Lord Stark would take the Black, the two man had looked at him with different emotions, the Blacksmith looked, almost disappointed, while Jalan looked at him as if he had done the entire Westeros a favor.

Once the word spread why he was sent to Castle Black, everyone started looking at him with respect, as if he was their Lord. Ned knew why: everyone at Castle Black was forced to take the Black after Robert's Rebellion ended; they all sided with Robert during the War and were sent here to atone for their crimes. Once everyone learned why he was brought here and what his crimes were, everyone congratulated him, some even asking why he didn't just kill the Dragonspawn baby; Ned had slammed the man against the Wall, choking him with his arm.

You say that word again, and I will throw you from the Wall, Ned had told him through clenched teeth, looking at the frightened man dead in the eye before letting him go; later, he learned that the same man was the last squire of Robert before the Battle of the Trident. Robert had lost many squires during the War, and Ned couldn't remember all their names and faces, so he was a little surprised to hear that Robert's last squire was at the Wall; his name was Derslon. Ned had expected him to tell everyone why Lord Stark attacked him, but much to his surprise, Delson had kept quiet and told everyone that he had accidentally insulted the man.

"I had better days. What do you want?" Ned said grumpily, not wanting to be near Jalan. He would much rather spend time with the Blacksmith. He was the only one Ned had met so far who didn't try to speak sweet words to him as if he were their father, and they all wanted his approval.

"Donal wants your presence in the courtyard, m'Lord." Jalan said with an ugly twist of his mouth that Ned decided to ignore; he realized the Blacksmith wasn't liked here that much for whatever reason.

"Well, tell him. I'm coming," Ned said dismissively. He heard the man walking towards the door, but before he left, he said, "Wait, any news from the Old Bear? I wish to talk to him?"

"I'm afraid not, m'Lord. Lord Commander went beyond the walls with a large group to check why the Wildling Villages were being abandoned. I'm sure he will be back soon; I expect him to return by tomorrow," Jalan said. Once again, there was a tone of resentment, but Ned ignored it. It wasn't his business.

The door closed, and Ned was left alone with his thoughts. Was Robb doing a good job leading the North? Despite the years he spent teaching him how to be a proper Lord, Ned felt he hadn't done enough, but he knew his son would make him proud. He just needed to wait. The Blacksmith told him that he would have permission to leave The Wall once a Year and visit Winterfell for about a week before returning to the Wall. While that wasn't the same as before, Ned counted the days until he could see his family again, and perhaps his grandsons and grandnieces; he wouldn't be there to see them grow up, but being able to see them at all was more than enough.

Ned made his way through Castle Black. Everyone greeted him when they saw him, and all of them called him 'Lord Stark.' Ned suddenly didn't like that name; his son was the Lord of Winterfell. Not me, he thought as he opened the door.

As he stepped out onto the balcony, he couldn't help but feel the exhilarating rush of the wind against his face and the delicate snowflakes dancing around him. The long wooden balcony stretched out before him, offering a view of the bustling courtyard below, with people scurrying about and going about their daily tasks. From his vantage point, he could easily spot the giant wooden gate that guarded the entrance to the castle grounds. The balcony had two sets of staircases led down from the balcony, one directly to the courtyard and the other to a smaller balcony below. He could see the doors that led back inside the castle from his balcony.

There were many such balconies around Castle Black and a wooden bridge that connected a smaller building right next to the Wall with Castle Black. The Blacksmith lived there, and due to his knowledge of crafting blades, no one tried to get in his way.

Ned looked down at the courtyard; he could see the training of the new recruits, the way they held their swords was to cry for, but one recruit caught his attention. His hair was blonde, and he held the sword as if the handle was made of fire.

"Again!" Ned heard the blacksmith shout without mercy as he strode downstairs, each wooden step creaking under his weight. Bits of snow fell down as he reached the courtyard. He watched as the kid swung blindly, but his opponent grabbed him by the shoulder before throwing him down, falling on the snow with his face.

"You peasants, I will have your heads for this," the boy cried out as he lifted his face up, his face red from the snow that was slowly melting off it.

"Ohh, you will have my head. Did you hear it, boys?" Ned sighed as he walked past them and reached the Blacksmith, who looked at the scene with a blank look.

Donal has a big belly and a pinned-up sleeve. His jaws bristle with black stubble. He is muscular and strong, even with one hand missing. His nose is broad and flat. Despite missing a hand, Ned had seen soldiers his whole life; he knew the man was a warrior.

"You asked for me, Donal?" Ned asked, ignoring the cries of the blonde boy behind him as he once again charged forward like a headless chicken, only to fall on the snow. This time, his opponent sat on top of him, telling him that he would allow him to 'Take his head' if he was able to stand up.

"Yes, Eddard. I want you to train these young lads," the man said while moving his chin forward at the boys, who were still making fun of the young blonde boy.

"Me? But you are the Master of arms here?" Ned reminded him. He was more than happy to become a ranger. With his status, he knew he could move a few threads and make sure he was always behind the walls, but Ned wasn't like that. He wanted to go out there and serve the realm as he had done his whole life.

"I might be, but you have been trained to fight. Plus, if you didn't notice, I'm a hand shorter than you, so I think you would do a better job training these ladies." The man said in a deep voice, like coming from deep within a horn; it was to be expected from a man like him who was used to the flames and the smoke, before pointing towards the blonde kid who seemed on the verge of crying.

"Do you know who he is?" Donal asked almost mockingly. Ned squinted his eyes. This boy seemed familiar, but Ned couldn't remember where he had seen him before shaking his head, and the Blacksmith let out a snarl.

"He's your—" Donal spat on the ground. "Your wife's nephew, for the lack of a better word, Joffrey Tully. As strong as an infant and as smart as a brick, it will feel like home for him." Ned almost gasped as he looked at the Blacksmith. Before looking back at the young boy, on a second look, he could see the similarities between him and Cersei Lannister.

"Why is he here?"

"I don't know, and I don't care, but he is one of us, as are all these shitheads that you are looking right now, without training; they are nothing but meatshields, and I want you to train them. They might be useless now, but even a Valyrian Steel Sword was a just a piece of useless junk before it was hammered properly, and become one of the Legendary Swords that you still hear about to this day." Donal said with laughter; Ned could see the logic in that he was trained and knew how to train others. But just as he was about to approach them, Donal placed his hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

"Listen, well, I Don't want to hear you assaulting another man just because he called your royal nephew a bad word. We all are equal here, and so are you. You are no longer Lord here or whatever title you held before. Now you are just Eddard Stark, another sworn sword for the Wall." Ned looked back at him with a hint of resistance, but he knew he was right. Almost everyone here was a Baratheon Loyalties. He knew everyone here insulted the Royal Family perhaps every day, and if he attacked everyone who said a bad word, he might as well fight everyone here.

"My apologies, Donal. It won't happen again."

"Oh, I know that, because if it does, you will find yourself slipping from the top of the Wall. And once your are done with the ladies, tell the blonde shithead to come to me. I want to talk with him." His words made Ned shudder. The man looked like the type who didn't fear anything, even a giant charging towards him.

Ned watched him walk back to the Blacksmith House. He stepped inside, and Ned turned around to face the new recruits.

"Eveyone!" Ned shouted loud enough for all of them to hear. The newer recruits turned to face him, slowly approaching him. Each one held a longsword in their hands, the swords often touching the snowy ground as they walked, forming a trail behind them.

"I will train you all starting today. You are to listen to every word I say. If you disobey me, you will have one good night of sleep in the ice cells." Ned said with a threatening voice. The young recruits turned white, and Joffrey looked like he wanted to faint.

"I'm not supposed to be here-" "Joffrey, the choice is no longer yours, you will stay here." Ned interrupted the crying boy, whose eyes had turned red, and his legs turned wobbly. The other newer recruits laughed, but only for a moment; they knew they were here for life, just like Joffrey.

"Now, you all will listen to everything I say, and when the time comes for you to fight the wildlings, you will have more chances to survive, and my name is Eddard Stark," Ned said strictly, ensuring all of them heard his words loud and clear, but one raised his hand.

"What?"

"Lord Stark, is it true-" "I'm not a Lord anymore. Just call me Ned." Ned said, a little exasperated, before motioning for him to continue with his questions.

"Ned, is it true that there are White Walkers out there?" While the thought of fighting Wildlings put fear in their hearts, now, they looked more like ghosts than people.

Ned wasn't sure what to say; he remembered what Jon had told him; he spoke of the White Walkers, as did Lady Val, and he knew they weren't the kind of people who would lie, especially his son, so Ned looked back at their faces as he cleared his throat, and speaking again, this time with a hint of warning. "There are many things out there that can't be explained, but one thing we all learned. The better you are at what you do, the higher your chances of winning at the end. If the White Walkers and The Others are really out there, then-" Ned unsheathed his own sword before striding forward, causing the new recruits to back away. "Then, if you listen to my words and my lessons, you will live if you ever happen to face one of them. Now, tell me your names." Ned said firmly before stabbing the ground with his sword.

"Rhaeko Snow."

"Jeeono Hills."

"Gotlyn Flowers."

"...Joffrey...Tully..."

"Very well." Ned said as he threw up his sword before grasping it with his right hand, his fingers closing around the handle. "All of you against me."

*

*

Ned quickly learned just how out of practice they all were, but somehow, despite having a Master At Arms at his home, Joffrey was the worst of all of them, and adding to that was his ability to annoy everyone, calling everyone a peasant, acting as if he was superior to all of them, which didn't sit well with everyone else. Ned knew if the boy didn't learn humility, he would soon find himself with a knife in his throat.

After the training was done, Ned ordered Joffrey to go to Donal to talk. The boy refused at first until Ned warned him that he would sleep in the ice cells if he refused. The boy obeyed in the end. Ned didn't know why Donal needed him, but after an hour, Joffrey walked out crying from the Blacksmith's house and ran to his room.

Three hours later, Jalan came to him, telling him Dolan wanted to talk with them.

*

*

"Besides the brothels at the mole's town, this is the only other warm place in this frozen hell," Jalan said as he and Ned stepped into the Blacksmith House. A wave of heat embraced them, accompanied by the scent of burning metal. Jalan's face lit up with a broad grin as he surveyed the interior, lined with an impressive display of tools and equipment. Hammers of varying sizes and shapes hung from the walls, alongside an array of nails and other essential supplies for the craft of blacksmithing.

A bronze cauldron adorned with intricate designs and symbols hung precariously above the roaring fire, its heat radiating throughout the room. It was suspended by a sturdy metal bar that extended through the top of the cauldron. Two sturdy metal beams secured the bar's ends, their ends firmly hammered into the ground, ensuring the cauldron's stability as it simmered and steamed.

They could hear the sound of a hammer hitting solid metal; Donal was sweating, his face looked as if he was melting, and his hands were full of bruises.

"Donal, you needed us?" Ned asked as he made his way across the room. The fire's touch on his face made him feel too warm for the first time since arriving.

"Unfourtentaly," Donal said, hammering down at the sword. He picked it up with a pair of hot pincers and looked at it from different angles. One of our dear brothers wants our old Bear's head." Ned stiffened for a moment as Jalan walked over to them and looked at Donal as if he had grown a second head.

"Nonsense. The man is the best Commander we ever had. Why would anyone wish to harm him?" Dalan asked incredulously. Donal let go of the pincers, using a dirty napkin to clean his face, before looking at the two men in the house.

"You forget only the filthiest people come here," Donal said, pointing at the two of them before pointing at himself as well.

"Why now? There are many opportunities-" "OPEN THE GATE!!" They all quickly rushed outside. Soon enough, a crowd formed in front of the gates that opened. Ned felt his heart sink at the sight of the Old Bear riding forward, two other riders almost glued to his horse, his upper body slumped down, almost resting against the horse's neck; once the horse stopped, the Commander fell from his horse.

Everyone quickly rushed to help him, but Ned looked at the soaked saddle with blood; the leather had turned red, and the old Commander had gone white in the face. Soon, they all tried to lift up his body to place him inside, but they were quickly stopped by a fat soldier who rushed towards them.

"Not like that. He will lose a lot more blood. Try to move him as slowly as possible." Any other day, they would have questioned him how he knew that, but this time, they decided to listen and slowly brought the Commander inside.

When they called for Maester Aemon to check on him, Ned was sure the old Bear wouldn't survive his wounds. The old Maester was blind, but soon, a whole day passed, and the Maester informed everyone the Commander would survive. Even those who didn't like the Maester were happy to hear the news.

"Do not thank me; thank this young boy over here." Maester Aemon said quite loudly for someone of his age before patting the fat boy who sat beside him. He looked deeply embarrassed by all the attention he was getting.

"Thanks to his words and help, our Commander will live to fight another day, so all be thankful to Sam Tarly." Many cheered for him that night, giving him beer; while it didn't have the best taste, Ned wondered what someone of his status was doing here—someone from House Tarly.

During the night, Ned hears from Jalan that Sam has been sent here by his father. When Ned learned the whole story, he felt disgusted. While Sam didn't have the appearance of a warrior, he still had no right to send him to the Wall.

As everyone drank for the Old Bear's health, the survivors started talking about what happened beyond the Wall, and the words they said made Ned's heart freeze in place.

*

*

"What is so special about this Horn?" Ned questioned, sounding confused. A Month had passed since their Lord Commander returned wounded, and the words of the attack on them spread like Wildfire.

The Others had attacked them. Many had thought Mance Rayder was moving his army toward the Wall, but everyone who managed to survive told the same story: the Others were real, and the White Walkers were real. They were questioned over and over again. Many in Castle Black didn't want to believe the words of those who returned, but when even the Lord Commander said that a small army of White Walkers ambushed them, they knew it wasn't just a group of madmen seeing things.

The more Ned had heard about the ambush, the more he thought about his family back at Winterfell; he was half convinced to send a letter to Robb to inform him of the White Walker attack and to tell him to prepare. They didn't know if the Wall could still protect them, but they needed to be ready in case the White Walkers somehow managed to destroy the Wall. Maester Aemon had reminded him that his duty was to the Wall now, not to his family anymore, but he reassured him.

I have already sent a letter to the King. The White Walkers are coming, and he knows me. He will believe my words, Maester Aemon had told him, which had somewhat calmed him down. He remembered the Dragons. He knew whatever army the Others had would be powerless against the might of the Dragons, not just one of them but three of them. Now, they only needed to wait for the Royal family's response.

Soon, the talk turned towards a horn Sam had brought with them from North of the Wall. At first glance, it looked like a normal horn with no real value, but the Commander had told him, Donal, and Maester Aemon the Truth.

The White Walkers wanted the Horn. They had brought Sam to Maester Aemon's chambers, and he had told them everything about the Horn, including that a White Walker woman had tried desperately to blow on it, but the Lord Commander had killed her before she could do that.

Once Sam told them everything, Maester Aemon asked for details about the Horn. Sam told him about every rune written on the Horn, and he told them that he had already checked the library. There was nowhere any mention of what this Horn could do, and they quickly learned that the Horn was quite heavy; when Ned held it in his hands, it felt even heavier than Ice.

"I don't really know, Lord Stark." Ned quickly gave Sam a pointed look; he stopped talking and quickly rephrased. "I don't really know, Ned, but they all wanted it. There are runes written all over it, and there's this noise that comes from the Horn." Sam explained the words sounded like the words of a madman, but as Ned leaned closer, he could hear it; it sounded like people screaming from being burned alive; he could almost hear the sound of the Wildfire- Ned backed away, breathing heavily, suddenly he felt sweat on his forehead, as he tried to regain his composure.

"Ned, what is wrong?" Ned wanted to say that he was fine, but he couldn't. He felt as if an invisible hand was holding his throat tightly. Eventually, he regained his composure.

"I'm fine, I just... I heard people burning... from the Horn. I don't like that sound." Ned said, looking apprehensive.

"That's not what I hear," Sam said right away. Ned blinked a few times before approaching the Horn once again, and he could hear the sound; it sounded almost like his brother Brandon. Ned quickly backed away, rubbing his forehead. He was just imagining things; his brother was dead.

"He's right. I hear...a siege...It's Miranda..." Donal stopped talking, and for the first time since Ned had come here, he could see fear in his eyes. His face went white as he stepped back from the Horn, quickly looking at the Horn with loathing. Ned was a little tempted to ask who Miranda was, but he knew the Blacksmith would never answer him and would only get him angry.

"It doesn't matter what you all hear, Samwell Tarly. What do you think to do with this Horn?" The Lord Commander interrupted with a firm voice before fixing Sam with a pointed look.

"The White Walkers wanted this Horn for a reason. I was hoping Maester Aemon would know why they needed it," Sam said before turning to face the old Maester.

"I'm afraid that I have never heard of such a Horn in my life—" Ned stopped paying attention when he felt someone watching him from behind. He quickly looked over his shoulder, and he saw a crow resting on the windowsill, looking at them strangely, but not at him this time; it was looking at the Lord Commander.

"I doubt the books here will help you to learn more about the Horn, but maybe is better to just get rid of it." Donal said with a snarl, eyeing the Horn suspiciously.

"No one touches the Horn." The Lord Commander suddenly shouted loud enough for them to hear before turning to face Sam.

"What do you think this Horn can do?"

"I don't know Lord Commander, but I believe that we can use it against the White Walkers. We don't have information here, but I know a place that I'm sure will hold information about this Horn," Sam said confidently.

"Where?" Maester Aemon asked probingly.

"The Citadel, my Lord. If any place in the world has information about this Horn, then I'm willing to bet it's in the Citadel, which gets the Horn further away from the White Walkers. I doubt they know where the Citadel is." Sam answered, looking at everyone's face, waiting for them to agree. Maester Aemon seemed unhappy with the mention of the Citadel.

"I don't really care what you do with it. I don't like looking at this thing. I think is better to just destroy it." Donal said with resentment, pointing at the Horn.

"I don't know if that's possible... while we were riding back to the Wall. Grenn used his sword on the Horn, but his sword was shattered to pieces the moment it made contact. Then he tried to burn it, but the flames blew out the moment the Horn touched them," Sam told them before looking down at the Horn resting on the table.

"Well, if a metal sword can't cut it, then I'm sure A Valyrian Steel sword will do just fine." Dolan suggested, looking at the Old Bear.

Ned heard the sound of a crow's cry, and the old Commander shook his head before reaching out and grasping the Horn in his hands. "No. Tarly is right; this Horn can be useful to us. We need to learn what it can do." The Old Bear said firmly before handing it to Sam's hands, who looked uncomfortable holding the Horn.

"I doubt it, Lord Commander; if the White Walkers wanted that thing, then I doubt it can be anything good for us. We should destroy it, or maybe bury it somewhere where no one can find it." Donal suggested, but the Old Bear ignored him as he turned to face Samwell Tarly.

"Tarly, you will leave this place tomorrow morning. You have my permission to go to the Citadel, and find out everything you can about this Horn, but once you arrive there, I want you to send a raven here, and you have my permission to stay there only for a month, once the month is over. You are to return here."

Aemon

He had felt fear many times during his life. He used to fear Lady Catelyn when he was a little boy. Sometimes, she would give him nasty looks that always succeeded in scaring him. He remembered running to his chambers crying, but he had never felt fear like today. He could feel his pain. Ghost was in pain. Aemon could feel the burn. His entire chest felt like it was exploding in pain as he gripped the scales of Aegarax as tightly as possible.

"Why would Cannibal attack Ghost?" Aemon shouted with rage as the wind blasted against him, but he ignored all of that as he gripped the scales of his Dragon tight enough that he could feel their sharpness against his boiled-skin gloves.

"I don't know. It doesn't make sense for him to attack your direwolf; he would gain no power by attacking him." Aegarax answered, sounding just as furious. From their position, they could see the Cannibal standing in the forest near King's Landing. His figure was easy to notice despite the darkness of the night.

They descended down and landed right in front of the Black Dragon. The ground shook from their weight. Aemon could see Ghost hiding behind a tree. He had burns across his belly, and his tail was between his legs as he whimpered from the pain.

"Run Ghost." Aemon shouted, not looking away from Cannibal, who looked smug about what he had done.

His Direwolf looked like he wanted to stay longer to protect him somehow when Kessa landed near Ghost and let out a whistle right at his face.

Ghost growled back at Kessa, but she whistled back at him. His face dropped. He looked defeated. His face slumped down. He ran away, with Kessa following behind. She gave Cannibal the coldest glare she could muster before chasing after Ghost to make sure he wouldn't get into more trouble.

"Skoro syt nābēmagon se zoklīo? Ziry gōntan daorun naejot ao? Ao gain daorun hen zirȳla. (Why attack the Direwolf? He did nothing to you? You gain nothing from him.)" Aegarax spoke to Cannibal, who let out a sound similar to mocking laughter; as he stretched out his wings, he looked ready to attack them.

"Nyke mērī zūgagon zirȳla mirrī. Ziry iksos daor issa fault direwolves issi sīr nākostōbā. (I only scared him a little. It's not my fault Direwolves are so weak.)" The Cannibal spoke with a sneer, his green eyes finding Aemon, who glared back at him. He wasn't afraid of him; even if Aegarax hadn't been around, he wouldn't be afraid of him.

"Ao issi nykeā nēdenka valyrīha riñnykeā. Ao remind issa hen Aegon Targārien. (You are a brave Valyrian kid. You remind me of Aegon Targaryen.)" Cannibal spoke, and for the first time, there was no hint of malice in his voice, but Aemon didn't care to listen to him. He had attacked Ghost, the people of the village, and he would pay for it.

"Skoro syt nābēmagon se lentor? Skoro syt nābēmagon Ghost? (Why attack the Village? Why attack Ghost?)" Aenar shouted with fury as he gripped the scales, ready to order Aegarax to breathe his ice breath on him. Cannibal might have his Wildfire, but he couldn't do anything if he were frozen in ice.

"Sīr, se weakling emagon nykeā brōzi! (So, the weakling has a name!)" Cannibal said with a sneer before slamming his wings against the ground; the earth and the trees shook, and the smaller animals ran away in fear as Cannibal roared to the sky.

"Shrykos jāhor sagon dāez aderī. Nyke daor kostōba enough naejot ossēnagon zirȳla, yn nyke jāhor sagon.rūsīr aōha dohaeragon. (Shrykos will be free soon. I'm not strong enough to kill him, but I will be...with your help.)"

"Dracarys!" Aemon shouted as their fiery breaths collided in a clash. A dazzling display of ice and fire erupted, sending shards of frozen flames and scorching embers in every direction. The entire forest was suddenly ablaze with a kaleidoscope of colors as the flames reached the sky and the trees were engulfed. Aemon shielded his eyes from the intense heat and could feel the wild and untamed power of the Wildfire on his face.

They stopped breathing flames, and Cannibal quickly ran forward. He was bigger than Aegarax, his mouth wide open, but he wasn't aiming to bite the Ice Dragon. Aemon could see the huge jaw coming towards him.

Aegarax quickly breathed towards him, but Cannibal moved away, causing a small mountain of ice to form before them, stopping the black Dragon from approaching. Cannibal glared as he breathed Wildifre once again, destroying the ice, but Aegarax was already flying away.

"Raqagon flies running qrīdrughagon hen se perzys (Like flies running away from the fire)." With a roar that shook the earth beneath them, Cannibal unleashed a burst of fiery rage from his gaping maw, sending a scorching inferno hurtling toward Aegarax. His powerful wings beating with all their might as he ascended into the dark sky above. The clouds, already ominous and heavy, seemed to darken even further. There was a sudden burst of emerald light as Cannibal exhaled another burst of searing flames, the very sky itself seeming to light up in vivid hues of green.

Aemon could feel the heavy rain against his face as another burst of wildfire flames rushed toward them. Aegarax quickly turned around, letting out a burst of ice flames. The droplets of rain froze mid-air as the two flames collided. The entire King's Landing underneath them brightened up by the flames colliding.

"Nyke jāhor havor va aōha ñelly, pār tolī nyke'm gaomagon. Se lanta tolie issi hembar. (I will feast on your flesh, then after I'm done. The two others are Next.)" Cannibal and Aegarax collided mid-air. Aemon almost fell from his saddle as Aegarax lunged forward and sunk his razor-sharp teeth deep into Cannibal's shoulder. Blood spurted out in a burst, painting the air with a crimson hue as Cannibal let out a deafening cry of agony. He mustered all his strength and retaliated, using his powerful claws to rip the scales off Aegarax's belly, causing a torrent of blood to gush out. Cannibal turned his menacing gaze towards him, opening his massive jaws, ready to devour him. Aemon's heart sank as he raised his Valyrian Steel Sword, Wolf's Blood, upwards, ready to meet his fate.

Aemon knew it was over. Cannibal let out a scream of pain; backing away from them amidst heavy rain, Aemon saw Kessa attacking his left eye.

"Insect!" Cannibal shook his head, his jaw hitting the eagle, who let out a scream of pain, but Cannibal quickly breathed Wildfire toward her falling body.

"No!" Aegarax and Aemon screamed as his Dragon took the wildfire flame on his back near his legs. Aemon screamed in pain. The flames had burned his back. The Wildfire had touched him. For the first time in his life, Aemon was burned.

"Just hold on, Aemon," Aegarax shouted as he flew toward the ground, with Cannibal chasing behind them. His mouth was wide open, and Wildfire was building up in his throat, ready to kill both Aemon and Aegarax. Suddenly, the Ice Dragon turned his head around, shooting a blast of blue fire right on his throat as Cannibal was about to breathe fire. This caused ice to build inside his throat, and his wildfire flames burst inside him, damaging his throat.

Cannibal let out a deafening roar of agony; he plummeted towards the ground, his body colliding with the earth and sending tremors throughout the surrounding forest. In his descent, he tore through the thick foliage, snapping trees like twigs in his wake. Finally, his motion came to a jarring halt as he landed with a thud against the walls of King's Landing.

Aegarax landed near him, looming over him like a devil, glaring down at Cannibal, whose throat was bleeding; bursts of blood escaped from his mouth. Aegarax ignored the pain in his stomach; he knew he needed to rest. Cannibal's left eye was closed tightly, with blood streaming down his face.

Aegarax looked around, he felt his heart pluming down like a rock as he closed his eyes; for a moment, he didn't feel them, but then, he felt it. Both were still alive. Aemon breathed heavily in relief, knowing Kessa and Ghost were still alive.

He glared down at Cannibal, ready to order his Dragon to kill him. He knew Daenerys wouldn't be happy with his decision, but a voice cut through the silence.

"Ao ossēnagon issa, pār Daenerys Targārien dies rūsīr issa. (You kill me, then Daenerys Targaryen dies with me.)" Cannibal said with a smile of triumph when Aemon stopped himself from giving the order to kill at the last second.

"Aegarax, is that true? Can that even happen?" Aemon quickly asked his Dragon, who angrily glared at the downed Dragon. He remembered the pain he felt when Ghost was injured; he knew when the bond was too deep, the Warg could feel the pain of their companion, but both dying if one of them did? Howland Reed had never said that could happen, nor did Varamyr, the Six Skinchangers of the Free Folk. Aemon was certain that Cannibal was lying, but what if he wasn't? He would kill Daenerys if he killed Cannibal.

"He is lying, Aemon. He only wants to save his own skin. We should kill him." Aegarax told him almost dismissively.

"Are you sure my aunt will be safe?" But the silence that followed was more than enough for an answer.

Aegarax wasn't sure if something would happen to the Targaryen Princess; he hated to admit it, but he couldn't tell if Cannibal was lying to him. "Aemon... We should kill him." He said the words with slight reluctance.

"But Daenerys-" "Aemon. Did you forget what this monster did to Ghost, to Kessa. What he did to the village, all that because he wanted us to fight him. He was hoping that he would win, but now that he's down, he is trying to find any way to save himself. Are you sure you want someone like him to be free out there? Imagine how many people he will kill and continue killing."

"But-" "What if he kills Ghost or Kessa? Will you just stand down and do nothing." Aegarax interrupted before focusing on Cannibal, who was trying to stand up using his wings, as more blood escaped from his mouth.

Aemon tried to find the right words to say and argue back, but Aegarax had already made up his mind. "I'm sorry, Aemon." Aegarax apologized before opening his mouth wide open; blue flames accumulated on the bottom of his throat.

"Aegarax. I'm ordering you to stop. NOW!" Aemon suddenly shouted with all his strength; Aeagarax changed his trajectory, hitting a big chunk of the Wall that quickly froze entirely. Aegarax remained silent, looking back at Aemon with disapproval before looking back at Cannibal, who looked smug, with a smile of triumph on his face.

"Iksā nākostōbā, riña hen Valyria. (You are weak, child of Valyria.)" Cannibal said mockingly as he spread his wings, ready to take flight.

When they heard a voice, Aemon's heart sank like a rock when Rhaenys landed near them with Morning.

"Aemon, are you alright?" Rhaenys asked, sounding worried, but she wasn't alone. Daenerys jumped from Morning and started approaching Cannibal; she looked at Aemon with concern before her eyes slowly changed color from purple to wildfire eyes like Cannibal's.

"Aemon. Her eyes are his." Aegarax said with a warning in his voice as he growled, trying to approach and stop the Princess, but he winced in pain from the wound on his stomach.

"I'm sorry. I...I will fix this." Daenerys murmured to them before turning to face Cannibal.

"Iōragon ilagon, Cannibal. Iksan ordering ao naejot iōragon ilagon (Stand down, Cannibal. I'm ordering you to stand down.)" Daenerys shouted with a commanding voice.

"Ao gīmigon ao ȳdra daor jaelagon bona. Rual nyke naejot dohaeragon ao, Valyria dārilaros. Tolvys kessa bow ilagon naejot īlva. (You know you don't want that. Allow me to help you, Princess of Valyria. Everyone will bow down to us.)" Cannibal spoke with a deep voice as he approached Daenerys, who remained in her place, her wildfire eyes glistening like gems. Suddenly, her right eye turned purple like before. Before anyone could do anything, she strode forward, now standing only a few feet away from his mouth.

"Iksan daor aōha servant, Cannibal. Iksan Daenērys hen Targārien Lentor, se hae aōha kipagīros iksan ordering naejot iōragon ilagon. (I'm not your servant, Cannibal. I'm Daenerys of House Targaryen, and as your rider, I'm ordering you to stand down.)" Daenerys shouted with a voice they had never heard before. Cannibal let out a roar of fury right at her; for a moment, Aemon feared he would burn her alive.

"Ao riña. Iksā daorun compared naejot nyke. Kesan zālagon ao naejot ash. (You, Child. You are nothing compared to me. I will burn you to ash.) Cannibal growled as he opened his mouth. Daenerys could see the Wildfire on the bottom of his throat. For a moment, she was scared; she knew she could get burned by the Wildfire, but she quickly stifled all her fear.

"Pār zālagon nyke, Cannibal, yn nyke gīmigon bona ao won't. (Then burn me, Cannibal, but I know that you won't.)" Daenerys challenged him back, ready to face her fate. If this were truly her end, she would face Death with a smile. She was a Princess of House Targaryen; she had the blood of the Dragon, after all. She feared Nothing.

Cannibal closed his mouth before looking down at her; he let out a burst of hot breath from his nose.

"Ao jāhor obey issa. Nyke'm aōha kipagīros. (You will obey me. I'm your rider.)" Daenerys spoke fiercely. Her left eye remained green, but her right eye was purple. Cannibal growled angrily. His left eye kept bleeding, so he lowered his head, allowing Daenerys to touch his nose.

"Aemon, your aunt has a strong will. She reminds me of my previous rider." Aegarax said in his head, sounding impressed as Daenerys suddenly climbed on top of Cannibal.

"Dany, what are you doing?" Rhaenys shouted as Morning let out a roar.

"I will return. We just need a moment for ourselves." Daenerys shouted as Cannibal suddenly spread his wings wide and took the skies. Everyone watched as he flew away towards the sea.

"Me and Morning will watch over him, Aemon. You need to heal," Aegarax said in his mind. Aemon finally could breathe easily, but now he felt the pain—it felt like a trail of fire in his entire back.

"Thank...you..." Aemon thought as everything went dark.

' "Aemon." He blinked his eyes open. He expected to find himself back at the castle, but instead, he was surrounded by darkness; he could feel the cold ground underneath him, but before he could call out to anyone, he recognized the voice; as he turned around, Bloodraven lay on the same place.

"Brynden Rivers, why am I here?" Aemon questioned as he stood up and looked around; he was back at the cave under the Giant Weirwood Tree, knowing his great-great Uncle would have a reason to call him here. 

"Dear Nephew. I brought you here to talk about Shrykos and Artorias Stark." Aemon didn't know who Artorias was, but he knew his Uncle must have a good reason to want him to know about them, and he wanted to know more about Shrykos.

"Who is Artorias?" Aemon found himself asking curiously; he couldn't remember hearing that name before.

"Touch the Weirwood Tree, and let me show you," Brynden said with a raspy voice, and Aemon did as he was told. His hand touched the rough surface, and for a moment, nothing happened. When he felt it, it felt like he was getting closer and closer to the Weirwood Tree, a pair of red eyes looking back at him as he sunk deeper and deeper until he fell. Deep into the Weirwood Tree, like falling into an endless abyss...

*

*

"Where am I?" Aemon asked as he looked around, trying to find anything recognizable. But he was amongst long, snowy fields. He could hear the sound of animals nearby, but soon, he heard another noise, the sound of hundreds of footsteps. He turned, and on the horizon, he could see a large army appearing over the hill, riding their horses. What caught his eye was the massive white Direwolf leading the army, and on top of the direwolf was a beast of a man.

"Artorias Stark was the older brother of Brandon Stark, the Builder. Unlike his brother, he was a warrior." Brynden appeared beside him, but he appeared younger. He no longer looked like a dying man; his left eye was still a hole, but he was standing on his feet.

Aemon watched as the Large Direwolf, who was four meters tall and wearing Direwolf armor. His eyes were a dark grey, but he wasn't the only animal. A hundred wild animals came running out from the forests, all following Artorias like he was their leader.

"He's a Warg!" Aemon said, astonished. He had heard from Varamyr, the six skinchanger, that one Warg could hope to control only nine different animals at the time. Yet Artorias seemed to be able to control over a hundred of them, and not just small animals. All of them were bears, shadowcats, hounds, other direwolves, mammoths, and even white bears.

"Indeed, Artorias was the best Warg to have ever walked this earth, and he was a Hero when the Long Night came, but, soon he would understand that everything comes with a price." Bloodraven said gravely as everything suddenly changed once again. 

The world built itself again, and he looked at the sight of nightmares—The Army of the Dead. 

An endless sea of corpses that stretched wider than the Wall itself, perhaps a million corpses and animals. But not just corpses. The Others were leading the dead like captains; they all were tall and strong, holding ice spears in their hands. All of them, all ten thousand of them, were riding Ice Spiders that seemed to be in different sizes, but what caught his eyes was the Enormous Dragon walking beside them, his tail dragging behind for an entire kilometer, each step he took caused the ground to shake, his legs digging deep into the frozen land.

His wings alone were larger than Cannibal and Aegarax put together. His mouth was the size of a small castle. His scales were dark red, except for his wings, which were bright red like flames. His eyes were as blue as the sea, and he had an Other standing on top of him. 

This Other was unlike any Other in his army. He had long white hair, red eyes like blood, pale skin, wearing armor that glittered with magic, the sunlight didn't reflect from it, a smile on his face, and on his hand was a sword that made Aemon gasp.

"Wolf's Blood!" Aemon shouted, recognising the Valyrian Steel sword Bloodraven had given him when he told him the truth about his parents. He turned to look at Brynden, who suddenly looked at him with deep regret.

"You said it belonged to Jon Stark, the younger brother of Brandon Stark." Aemon reminded him, and Brynden motioned towards The Other on top of the Enormous Dragon.

"What happened?" Aemon asked in horror, looking back at the Other, who seemed to be the leader.

"I'm afraid I can't know that. I have tried to see, but every time I try to see more of his life, something stops me, and I return to the present," Brynden said regretfully before stepping forward.

"That's Shrykos, the Eater of Dragons. A beast amongst them, the most powerful Dragon to have ever lived, and now he serves The Others." Shrykos suddenly turned his enormous head towards them, his eyes looking back at Aemon as if he could see them, but it wasn't just him. The Great Other, riding on top of him, looked back at Aemon.

The entire Army stopped their march and turned to look at him. Aemon backed away, his arms trembling, his legs turned wobbly, but suddenly everything changed. 

*

*

He was back at Winterfell, the God's Wood, but no one was there. He never thought he would be back in this place. A part of him missed it, a place he could always go to be alone.

"How-" Aemon turned to look at his great Uncle. "How did they won the first time? How did they achieve Victory?"

"I can't see that much, Aemon. I have tried to, but I can't look, but one thing I can tell you. It was Artorias Stark who defeated Shrykos the first time."

"How?" Aemon asked right away, sounding amazed that a single person could kill a Dragon of that size.

"Artorias was the best of us for Warging, he used his Warging to force Shrykos into surrendering, their minds fought one another for days, until Artorias emerged victories, but he didn't really defeat the Dragon Eater-" Brynden placed his hands on Aemon's shoulder.

"Shrykos is still alive to this day, and if the Others get South of The Wall. He will be there." Aemon felt frozen; he felt fear. That kind of Dragon would be unstoppable, but he still didn't understand.

"How? It's been eight thousand years?" Aemon demanded almost desperately.

"Shrykos's scale are made of Valyrian Steel, he cannot be pierced by anything. He cannot be killed, but Artorias won over his mind, and put him to sleep."

"Sleep?"

"Yes, but Brandon Stark knew Shrykos would wake up within a century, so he ordered the greatest Structure in the world to be built on top of him. He used magic to make sure he would never wake up, and that same magic will make sure The Others can never walk South of the Wall. As long as the Structure is there, Shrykos can never return." Aemon's face went white, his heart hammering in his throat as he murmured.

"The Wall."

"Yes. The Wall was built on top of him, and with time, all signs that something was underneath the Wall disappeared. Castle Black was built where his head was used to be. If the Wall falls, Shrykos will be free, and he will serve his one and only Master. If that happens, nothing can stop him." Brynden said gravely, his red eye looking right at Aemon's grey eyes.

"Now, we must return-" "Stop running." Aemon turned his head around so fast that he quickly hid himself behind the Weirwood Tree and peeked his head outside; he heard the sound of someone running. Appearing from behind the God's Wood was a familiar girl. Aemon gasped, and his eyes widened. There she was, running into the God's Wood. She seemed younger than he expected, but he knew who she was right away.

"M-Muna!" A weak whisper escaped from his throat. His eyes burned with tears as she looked at him as he was hiding behind the Weirwood Tree. Her eyes and face looked just as he expected; his tears rolled down his face as he walked out of the hiding place. He wanted to talk with her, his heart hammering in his throat.

"Lyanna, Father is calling for you. It seems he has found you a suitable man." A much younger Benjen Stark called from far away. Lyanna groaned loudly, turning around; she started to run towards her little mother.

"Muna!" Aemon screamed desperately, fully emerging from his hiding place. She stopped running and turned around. Her eyes looked back at him. For a split second, Aemon smiled, but his hope crumbled like dust when her eyes deviated from his, looking beyond him.

"Lyanna, what are you waiting for, come on."

"I thought-I thought I heard something-" Aemon opened his mouth to shout when Brynden suddenly appeared right before him, his hand touching Aemon's chest.

Suddenly, everything changed once again; he felt himself being pulled out. With a jolt, he blinked his eyes open; he was back at the cave, with Brynden back at the Tree.

"No! Return me back." Aemon shouted as he touched the Weirwood Tree Root, expecting to go back, but nothing happened.

"You cannot change the past, Aemon. I know what you are thinking, you want to return back and do something different, but the past cannot be changed." 

"She heard me calling her." Aemon quickly pointed out.

"She heard the wind," Brynden said dismissively. His face had turned white, and he suddenly looked sick. Aemon kept trying to return, but it wasn't working; he couldn't see his mother again. He sank to his knees, his forehead touching the Weirwood Tree.

"Aemon, if there was a way to change something, I would have done something by now, but the Past cannot be Changed. The Ink is Dry." Brynden said gravely, with a tone that indicated he would have wanted to change a lot of things. Aemon leaned away from the Weirwood Tree Root and looked up at Brynden.

"I know what you are thinking, you want to go back and perhaps change something, tell your father somehow that your uncle has taken you, so you can have your precious childhood with your family, but trust me, it cannot be undone, and its better this way." Aemon glared at him furiously, standing up, but he would not lose control. He wasn't like that.

"He stole my childhood. My family. All that taken away from Me." Aemon hissed through clenched teeth.

"Yes, but if you were raised with your family, you would have never met Aegarax," Brynden pointed out, causing Aemon to back away and suddenly think about the day he first met him.

"Aegarax's awake caused the other Dragons to return to Westeros. If you were raised a Prince you would have had a happier childhood, but House Targaryen would have remained vulnerable, without Dragons. Remember that. You would have never ventured Beyond the Wall. Never met Val. It needed to happen this way." Aemon looked down at his feet. Silence spread over the cave.

Aemon still wasn't sure what to make of his words. 'It needed to happen this way, ' he repeated bitterly. For a moment, he wondered if Brynden had personally interfered to make certain things happen a certain way, but he quickly dismissed the thought as he remembered Shrykos and what Brynden said about him.

"You are wrong." Aemon suddenly broke the silence, lifting his head up. Brynden looked down at him with a furrowed brow.

"Wrong?"

"Yes. You said it yourself, Artorias was able to make him fell asleep with his Warging. I can do the same." Aemon said, trying to sound optimistic, but deep down he knew Artorias was a much better warg than he could ever be.

"You are not on his level, Aemon, and even if you were, do you think Artorias has a happy ending?" Aemon felt a sudden rush of cold in his body, and he didn't like it one bit.

"What happened?"

"Artorias lost his mind, Aemon. He had four children, and after waking up from defeating Shrykos, he went mad. He attacked anyone near him. Anyone. In his rage, he killed three of his children, his best friend, and many other soldiers who tried to get hold of him. In the end, his Direwolf, Moonlight, and his youngest son killed him. His Direwolf knew his owner was gone, so he attacked Artorias, but he wasn't the best Swordsman for naught. When Moonlight sank his teeth deep into Artorias's shoulder, he plunged his sword deep into his belly, but this allowed his youngest son to plunge his sword into his father's heart. That's what will happen to you, Aemon. Even if you win against him, you will be gone, and you will kill anyone in your way, Rhaenys, Val, Ghost. Anyone. At that point, killing you will be a mercy. Are you sure about this?"

Aemon's head slumped. He had never felt so helpless, but he remembered one thing. His child was growing inside Val, their future. Would it be that bad to give my life for them? Aemon wondered. And the answer was obvious to him.

If Shrykos could only be defeated that way, he would give his life to ensure his children were raised in a world full of Springs and Summers. Even if he was gone, he knew Aegarax, his family, Ghost, and Kessa would be there to help them.

"I will do what is necessary," Aemon said. He wouldn't wait any longer. The time has come for the Free Folk to be brought South of The Wall.

Note: Do you think Cannibal was talking BS when he said that killing him would harm Dany, or was that the Truth?