GOT : All Left Behind

My sister's eyes widened at the sight of Dawn. After all, what noble worth their salt in the Seven Kingdoms did not know of the Swords of the Morning and their fabled blade? There was only one way a non-Dayne such as myself might have gotten their hands on such a fine weapon.

And as much as I might have regretted the extent of my actions the day I claimed it, I knew my sister could use the sentiment.

...

The comfort of knowing she was not alone in her burning desire for vengeance.

And judging by the bloodthirsty grin that spread across her features, she more than appreciated it.

"Finally, someone with the guts to do what is needed," she said, doing up the chains to keep her in her saddle. Without another word, Meleys spread her wings and took to the skies. Caraxes seemed unperturbed, but the Cannibal stuck to the corner of the ruined courtyard he had claimed.

Seven preserve this family, I thought. This war is turning us into monsters.

"She's been… well, she took Baelon's death the worst," Aemon explained, scratching awkwardly at his chin. "And I feel for her. Were it not for Father's desire to reduce Dorne to a hundred kingdoms, I would be up there with her."

Excuse me, what?

"A hundred kingdoms?" I asked, more than a little skeptical. "How does he plan to manage that?"

"By having us capture every lord and knight with a hide of land to his name," Aemon said, running a hand through his hair. Even now, after a month of campaigning, it was still far longer than my own. "It's a hellish task, frankly. The nobles have all gone into hiding, leaving us with only a few knights. Father can give you more details."

"Then I had best be off," I said, slowly coming to a halt. If Father was planning a grand campaign in Dorne, then I should be racing back home. Well, after a quick detour to Nightsong to pick up a… soon-to-be guest of the crown. But at least I would get to see Maegelle again. And the kids, too.

And my nephews. No doubt they needed my presence most of all, even if it was a month late. Viserys especially. His parents were gone, and his grandparents were hardly the most attentive guardians.

"You won't stay even for a meal?" Aemon asked, putting a stop to my plans. Looking over, my brother appeared almost bashful, like he was not used to asking his brother to spend time with him. Then again, he wasn't. At least, not with… not with me. "I was hoping we could catch up a bit."

Baelon had been his closest friend for decades. They had spent time together whenever they could find it.

"I can spare a few hours," I allowed, and was rewarded with a silver-touched smile.

...

King's Landing. The home of our smaller half for twenty years and counting. It might have only been a month and some change since we had left to defend the realm against Prince Morion's madness, but it had changed since then.

The army camped outside the gates was the obvious one.

Truly massive it was, larger even the forces amassed at the ambush when we had publicly joined the Yronwood cause. Or, depending on the interpretation, had saved the Yronwood cause from annihilation. Regardless of what, precisely, had happened, it was still an inspiring sight.

West of the city, sitting on the banks of the Blackwater, stood the mass of scarlet tents. Compared to the chaos of the slums growing against the walls of King's Landing like barnacles on an aging ship's hull, this was a finely organized hive of activity. Row upon row of temporary linen abodes, with the baggage train clumped at the center, this was an army ready for war.

The levied might of the crownlands.

But it did beg one question: Why was it here? Why, after an entire month, had the army yet to depart? Were they not yet ready? Were they not yet assembled?

In one month, a kingdom had been forged, the greatest threats cast down, and one of the most powerful houses of Dorne all but annihilated. One month was a dangerous amount of time to sit idly by. And yet, that is exactly what had happened here in King's Landing.

Swallowing our anger, we turned away from the army that was wasting time outside of the walls and brought our focus to the city within its walls. The pale red stone spires of the Red Keep dominated the skies of the city, though not for a lack of challengers. A single dark stone pillar in the heart of the city, but barely even reached the peak of the hill where the Red Keep began.

But there was something new in the skyline. Or, there would soon be, down in Fleabottom. Scaffolding was hard to mistake for anything else.

Progress.

Always a good sign.

Soaring in silence, we began our descent towards the Red Keep. We wanted to get down quickly, we wanted our smaller half to speak with the king quickly, and there was no time to set down outside the city. Nor could we set down by the Dragonpit and ride across town. No, we wanted to be quick about this.

The Red Keep could accommodate us, we knew. There were plenty of courtyards and wards that were open enough. The stables, especially, as they were home to both Vermithor and Silverwing. Each of whom was nearly as large as we were. Each of which was capable of ripping and tearing and burning and crushing and biting and scratching and-

We forced the paranoid ramblings to a distant corner of our mind and we began our descent towards what one of us knew to be the training yard. Surrounded by the light red walls and towers of the keep itself, the square of pale hard-packed dirt and sand was easy to spot, even from above.

We circled the keep, slowly gliding lower and lower, but we kept our maw solidly shut. In the past, bellowing our greetings to the world only ever drew the reciprocation of other dragons. Large dragons. Dragons that all too easily scratch and tear and bite and burn and-

No.

We had learned, and we approached silently.

Our body still screamed for us to flee when we caught the scent of the two large dragons stabled in the castle. But we had learned, and we managed to clamp down on that instinct until we landed and separated.

As soon as we came to a halt, and the world stopped shaking from the impact, the chains holding our smaller half in place fell away. Grabbing the less than willing passenger retrieved from Nightsong, I slid down, my knees buckling slightly after the long hours in the air. But it was a temporary weakness.

A moment later, the brief weakness faded, and the Cannibal took to the skies once more. Even now, even with the greater control we shared, he was far from comfortable being so close to dragons anywhere near his weight. No doubt he was returning to his lair outside the city.

Servants would need to be informed. The pork had to flow, and I had no desire to deal with a hungry dragon.

I deposited my passenger on the ground, as gently as I could. Even so, I made sure to hold her up so she did not collapse onto the hard ground.

Unexpected as our arrival had been, there were no servants or grooms to meet us. And at this hour, with the sun high in the sky and the day as hot as it would get, the training yard was sensibly abandoned. Thus, figuring out where to go was entirely up to me.

"On your feet, girl," I said as gently as I could, while the child found her footing. She looked less like the abducted daughter of one of the most ancient houses of Westeros and more like an errant stable hand, dressed in child-sized riding clothes instead of a fine dress, but that just meant her terrified features stood out all the more. "Scared?"

The girl did not answer, only nodding meekly.

"Clever girl," I said, marching off with the child in tow. Father would want to see me, that I knew. And Father would be in the Small Council chambers, in Maegor's Holdfast. A bit of a walk, but manageable. "While this is the safest place for you to be, it is by no means safe."

For whatever reason, however, the child seemed hesitant to accept my wisdom, but it mattered little.

...

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