Burn Bright Bringer of the Light
Mid 283 Spring Ulfric
Ulfric and Ned descended into the Red Keep's wine cellar looking for Jorah, and it turned into far more of a quest than either man prepared for. Turns out the royal family needs expansive reserves to keep the court supplied, not to mention meeting their own luxurious consumption needs. The pair ventured into sprawling labyrinth of jars and barrels. Fortunately, the Lords of the North arrived in time to save this strategic resource before the Westermen did too much damage, and Ulfric knew just enough about both the beverage game and his father to work out a basic route to follow once the pair established some logic to the layout.
They heard him long before they saw him, the braying sounded through the cavernous cellar, the bouncing sound throwing off their search occasionally. Eventually they found the man strapping up three mules with casks of wine and mead, his beard slick with plunder.
"Don't worry lads. I've saved the quest." Jorah greeted them without turning to see them, "Always triple the reasonable stock of brew when going on a road trip with the boys."
"Three more mules won't last our party even a day, and this is not some leisure journey ahead of us, Lord Mormont." Ned once again chastised the Lord of Bear Island.
Mid 283 Spring Me
"This is all for me. You young bucks can scrounge up your own drink. As for the leisure... One day soon, we will all be dead." I said as I finished strapping down another cask of Arbor Gold to my mule and turned to the young overlord, "In the precious time we have, enjoy your food, and your drink. Love your friends and make love to your women. No amount of spiting yourself will change the outcome of life, nor will it make you more virtuous or successful.
I started on the next cask but took the time to sample from another jar of a venerable vintage, "Some people think denying themselves makes their will stronger. I tell you right now, in this dark dank cellar. Those people are weak. Be righteous, be strong, but if you can't have fun while doing so, then your righteousness and strength are hollow. A facade for the pathetic creature inside. Or worse."
"Keep your lectures for your sons." Ned replied after a long pause between us, "Dawn has already passed us by, we must make for the Rose Road."
"I spoke for my son's sake, Lord Stark." I grinned under my heavy black mustache, "If you gleaned some wisdom from it, consider it an unexpected gift at the start of this long journey."
I led my mules out through the Red Keep, and into the brutalized city below. Smallfolk shuffled about in a stupor while others sought to take advantage of the chaos, bustling about their villainy. Rare few sought to do good onto others. I'd seen it all before in places like Maidenpool and Darry, and even beyond the Wall. Even a hard life makes sense until someone decides to brutally interrupt it. Only the naturally cruel and the born heroic rise up during times like these, and King's Landing ain't no place for a hero.
I happily left the oozing pustule of a city behind and rallied up with our forces going south. While Ned only intended to take those in the know and those he trusts with his life into the Prince's Pass, we needed a meaty contingent in case we encountered Tarley's still active forces or the Ironborn they were pushing out of the Reach slowly. Despite our generous window of opportunity, Ned pushed for speed, and thus a thousand riders of the North left the rest of our host behind. I left the bears too, but kept the dogs. Even with extensive training, my warbears can't match the sheer distance horses can travel in a day. They are perfect for marching with an army, but simply unable to compete with a pure calvary force with a mule supply train. The dogs on the other hand were absolutely stoked for the running.
Ned's intense focus on rescuing his sister put a spine of steel in the men, and we'd cleared the Kingswood during our fourth day of travel and to Bitterbridge in four more. The Kingswood felt almost familiar, much like the Wolfswood when summer burns hot enough to do away with all the ice and snow, but the Reach is unlike anything else in Westeros. Rolling hills and fields with small settlements built wherever the founder's pleased without concern or worry. So rich, vital, and soft, full of berries and fruit trees and easy game in the wilds, a man needed to be a complete lout to not flourish in these conditions. I'd kept my explorations of these lands to Oldtown, and the days riding through these lush verdant landscapes so well formed a painter might just pick any spot and never lack for inspiration, I felt a bitterness and envy in my chest that only abated any time we encountered the violent signs of Ironborn depredation,
The walled settlement of Bitterbridge bore signs of battle with the Ironborn, and if not for the released raven's announcing the defeat of the Targaryens and the ascension of Robert Baratheon, what remained of the Caswells and their men at arms would have settled in for a siege. One they would have lost swiftly with the help of my Greensight.
The defenders were tight with their supplies and their allowance of access to their bridge, but risked everything if they denied us. After a tense crossing we continued our route south along the riverbank. Ser Wylis felt quite emotional as we traveled the origin river of his family. Bitterness kept the Manderly's away from the Mander after their expulsion from the Reach despite no one living willing to bar their passage.
We followed the riverbank two days south to our next crossing at Longtable and here the Ironborn left much more heavy scars on the land and its people. Nearly every building outside the walled keep lay in blackened ruin, and the people remained behind their walls as we crossed their bridge. It took us three more days riding south to reach Ashford, and the more wealthy town stood in far better shape outside of the five longboats parked on the bank of the Cockleswent River with over six hundred reavers disembarked and having a go at it.
The brave men of the Iron Islands saw our force of a thousand greenlanders and three hundred dogs well off in the distance and chose to push off back down the river. This happy coincidence saw us welcome in the Reach for the first time, celebrated as the conquering heroes we are.
The irony was not lost on us as we passed under the orange and white banners of House Ashford to the sound of cheers and applause. The famous market town received us gratefully, and the lords with us rode into the castle under whose walls Robert Baratheon felt his only major defeat. Over the course of the rebellion Ned formed his dream team of Howland Reed, Willam Dustin, Martyn Cassel, Ethan Glover, Theo Wull, and Mark Ryswell. They'd fought beside each other bravely, and forged close bonds. Getting these men killed and handling the fallout so poorly left a gaping hole in Eddard Stark's sphere of influence that he never mended. It's nowhere near the straw that broke the camel's back, but it certainly didn't help matters that nearly all Ned's friends were dead by the time he needed avenging.
Begone with the flutter-flap of butterfly wings!
House Ashford resupplied us for running off that surprise attack. Tarly's forces already drove the Ironborn further west and the Redwynes supposedly controlled the Mander by this point, so this latest horde slipping past them nearly caught the rich market town with their pants down. Typical viking strategy.
Crossing the Cockleswent River saw us leaving the Reach behind and entering the Stormlands marches, a stretch of land they'd fought for doggedly over the millennia against hostile neighbors both north and south. It took us nine days of traveling along the grasslands and plains at the foot of the Red Mountains to reach Nightsong, the most contested fortress in Westeros, sieged thirty seven times in the last millennia, and burnt out not long after the Targaryens ascended. Ironically not by the fire breathing dragons.
Despite all the strife, the Carons held the lordship of these lands since the Age of Heroes, and were welcome hosts if not as resplendent as the Ashfords. Though they were responsible for watching the Prince's Pass into Dorne, the easiest land route in and out of the last of the Seven Kingdoms, precious little trade occurred through these lands. With nothing of note to tax, the Carons abounded with honor, and made due mostly on cattle ranching in the region. Not that a life full of milk and beef is a bad one.
The family confirmed the location of the tower we sought, and Ned declined a guide. Instead he asked that they host our force while a small team entered the pass. The young overlord proved crafty enough to sell the half truth that we did not wish to provoke a defensive response from the Dornish who only lost ten thousand men in the Rebellion, and according to their boasting could still summon forty thousand more. The actual number was closer to twenty thousand, but still not a time for us to mess around and find out.
We traveled forty leagues into the valley without encountering the local Stony Dornishmen, the ethnicity consisting of primarily Andal and First Men descent in the region who populate the Red Mountains, giving some racial tension between the historic grievances between the Yronwoods and the Martells, the former of which to this day sport the blonde hair and blue eyes of their First Men founders. Not that anyone needs racial tension to hate a family of migrants that took your crown and broke your throne.
The lack of Dornishmen with spears certainly made the hike up the mountains to reach the tower more scenic, and fortunately, we'd not yet entered these lands far enough to experience the real heat. Even still, the Northmen were melting despite all taking my advice to dress in white linen cloaks and hoods and trade out their heavy wool and leather arming suits for more white linen. If not for the breeze coming down from the mountains, they might not have made the climb, and I can easily see three rested Kingsguards beating them in this condition.
We took a quick water break before the final ascent to the tower and cooled off in some shade provided by the rock face.
"Alright, alright, alright. Gather round young bucks." I teased the men despite Theo Wull, Mark Ryswell, and William Dustin all being a few years older than me, "I'm killing Dayne myself. If any of you ruin this for me, I won't carry your bones back home once he gets done with you."
By this point, I'd secured my place as the greatest warrior in the North without doubt, and none of these men doubted that I'd soon take the championship of Westeros off of Arthur when we see him up top, not after what I'd done to the Mountain. The lad may have lacked his future reputation, but you can't teach eight feet, and the man's sheer size made my victory a heroic feat.
"Boys." I nodded to my sons, "Finish up the Whents for me."
Galmar punched his palm and grinned, though Ulfric and Kodlak didn't much care for the task.
"The rest of you…" I shrugged, "Don't fall for any of the old man's slick sword tricks. None of us should die today, but stupid can strike at any moment."
"I think we can manage one greybeard." Willian Dustin spat, sacrificing precious moisture.
"I was most worried about you, Billy." I jibed the man.
"Fuck off, Mormont." the man scoffed, "Like I'd survive this whole rebellion then get offed by an old man in fucking Dorne of all places!"
"Wouldn't even be hard to accomplish." I chuckled, "Catch some light on a polished sword. Some surprise pocket sand. Shit, Billy, some decent footwork is enough to put you in the ground. Don't worry though. I'll stop by Barrowtown from time to time to give that pretty little wife of yours some deep condolence."
"I'd offer you the same once Dayne finishes hacking down that tower of arrogance you've built up over the years, but your new wife is neither pretty nor little." the last scion of the Barrow Kings attacked back.
"Billy, please." I laughed, "Lythene would crush you between her thighs if you actually managed to get her excited enough."
"You…you…" William tried and failed to find the words to express his grievance but I found it for him.
"Me." I preened and got up from my rock seat, doing some high knees to get all the blood flowing right again.
"Let's finish this." Ned commanded as he too rose up.
We made the final trek on this mountain hike and found the Kingsguard ready and waiting in their white plate armor and cloaks. Off to the Lord Commander's right stood the man, the myth, the legend: Arthur Dayne. If not for me, the man would go down as one of three people to epitomize a more romantic version of the 70's. A relic of a time when the knights were more valiant, the women more beautiful, and the princes more worthy. Now, he's just another brick in the wall of my grand legend.
"Dayne." I greeted the knight, breaking the stare down, "I've come to kill you and take that sword."
The man held in his hands Lightbringer, the Dawn that ended the first Long Night. Pale as milk glass with a faint white glow. Sharp enough to draw blood from even the lightest of touches and indestructible to any known means. One of the few magical greatswords in the world, and the greatest of them. The sword of my dreams.
"Many have sought to take this sword from us over the millennia. Some even succeeded. They were all simply another challenge to hone the might of the next Sword of the Morning." Ser Arthur delivered his cold blooded response.
"Threaten me with a good time." I grinned and tapped my swordspear, "How about you and I fight first? Give your brothers the chance to see me fight before it's their turn."
"No." Gerald Hightower responded and drew out his highly polished sword in practiced timing with Oswald Whent.
"Fine by me." I nodded and the Fell Axe leapt into my hand.
With a quick toss, I nearly killed Whent who barely managed to bat the flying weapon aside. With my left hand I engaged Dayne as I closed the distance, flickering out stabs that he defended with ease. The two of us circled right away from Hightower and Whent, the pair quickly boxed in and harried by the mass of Northmen. Neither man would live to see Dayne die as they already bled from shallow wounds.
I frustrated the Dornish knight as I foiled his best closing moves and footwork, acting at the same time he did every time. I knew this man. I knew this warrior. I knew his every step, every attack, every mix up. I'd seen many possibilities for this fight, and I knew that Dawn could cut through foresight and deliver victory to its wielder.
So I recalled my Fell Axe and it took Dayne's leg off at the knee as it returned to my hand. The man cried out in pain and I ran him though on my spear as he collapsed. I returned the Fell Axe to my side, not willing to risk it against the star forged sword. Instead I backed off and circled away from the blade to deliver the final killing strike to Dayne's heart, the man unable to muster the strength to defend from that angle.
I pulled the sword from Arthur's weakening grip as he slipped into death and the blade burst alight with pale fire. I hardly noticed the physical world as it pulled me into the Green Dream where I lived a thousand lifetimes of battle, duels, and training in reverse. The Lightbringer pulled me into the dream as deeply as the curse of the Old Gods. I lived these lives, felt their pain, and desperation, but the sword took me even deeper, feeling too their joys and victories. I lived a thousand lifetimes in reverse, that ended when I plunged Dawn into the still beating heart of Nissa Nissa.
Returning from the dream to waking world and my blazing sword I laughed, I laughed long and hard, even going so far as to throw my head back.
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The fans voted for the Mermaid Waifu, but the vote was far more split than I thought it would be and some people put forth decent ideas. Fortunately they lost because I want some Sea Dragons in this mother fucker after reading about them being in the North Sunset Sea along with Leviathans and Krakens. I do so much research for this fic, looking for all sorts of passages and fan theories to make sense of all this crazy shit, and I missed the part where all these sea monsters are still around and they are Jorah's neighbors. That shit never came up when I was reading about the Bay of Ice or the Iron Islands, and I thought they were legends from the Era of Heroes that were going to get brought back to the surface when Euron completes his dark ritual.
And I thought that the Ironborn were fucked in the original battle I had planned out.
Anyway, big thanks to 4REEESEARCH for his support. You too can support me and my family at
ko-fi.com/jmanm