Chapter 46
CREGAN STARK
Magic was a reality in this world that could not be denied. Yet the magics here hardly followed a system, and the entire subject was considered taboo, which made researching it nearly impossible.
He had tried to read up on whatever he could, yet even the libraries of the Red Keep and Winterfell had all been purged of any and all tomes regarding this obscure power, as the maesters tried to deny its existence.
Yet it was real. He, himself was a living proof of it.
Melisandre of Ashai was one more proof of this. He had always suspected her to be the one who had burnt down the Sept of Baelor killing King Robert and Tommen, given the nature of the attack, and had always been apprehensive about the extent of her knowledge and actions.
And now as he saw the fire rage in front of him, he cursed himself for underestimating the bitch as he pushed himself up, clinging to Wolf's white fur with his hands as he tried to pull the direwolf back, stopping it from jumping into the pyre in front of him.
Jon had always been the faster and stronger of them, and his training in the yard at Kingslanding had only pushed the distance between them, and so he had been quick to act as he saw the green liquid underneath their feet, and had shoved him to the side with all his might as the red-haired sorceress dropped her torch.
"NO! GHOST STOP!" he screamed at the direwolf, which tried to jump into the flames, and he could feel the heat from the flames himself, yet it took his mind a second to register that the screams had stopped.
No. They had not stopped. There had been no screams at all, and as the thought clicked, he looked directly into the flames, and saw a figure standing there at the centre of it all, a black shadow amidst a sea of green raging flames as Cregan's mind raced.
"Jon! JON!" he shouted, and saw that shadow turn towards him, as it walked out of the flames, his clothes had been burnt, leaving his entire body exposed to them all, as he stepped out of the fire, face pale and struck with surprise as he looked at his arms and legs.
"Cregan," he whispered, looking up at him, as the flames clung to his body yet refused to eat away at it. Their eyes met, both of them grey in color because of their shared Stark lineage, and Jon tried to reach out for him as Cregan pulled back, knowing that the flames would not be so forgiving for him.
"What is going on?" he asked, as Cregan felt relief wash over him as he looked Jon in the eye.
"I will explain later...." and before he could say anything else, a voice cut from behind as Melisandrei of Ashai stood there rooted on the spot with her red eyes widened in fear, and surprise.
"Impossible!" she gasped, as Cregan's blood boiled with rage.
"No. It's not impossible at all, Melony!" and her eyes turned towards him, as Cregan reached into his side and took out his blade, as the flames began to die down, as Ghost bared its fangs at the woman, its mouth drooling as it focused its gaze on her.
"How do you know that name?" she gasped, as Cregan scoffed, as he slowed down his words to buy time, to let the flames die down.
"Shouldn't you already know by now, given you consider yourself to be blessed by your God," he taunted as she frowned, her eyes flaring with rage as she stepped back, as Jon simply watched their exchange in surprise.
"No. No. It cannot be," she gasped as Cregan laughed.
"Yes, so you finally realise that you have made a grave mistake. You are no prophet Melony. You are a lout who thinks herself to be far more important than you are, and now it is time for you to die," and so Cregan let go of Ghost's fur as the white direwolf jumped even without his command.
"Ghost. Neck!" he ordered, not that he needed to, as the White beast jumped above the lingering flames as it ran towards Melisandrei who was caught by surprise and tried to get back, yet was too stunned to move at all, as Ghost opened its maw and bit into her neck.
"AHHHHHH!" she screamed in pain, and Cregan watched as that Red choker around her neck, adorned with that glistening red stone, fell to the ground as the skin of the infamous Lady Red was dyed red with her own blood as her screams filled the tunnels.
"NO!" "NO!" she screamed, yet Ghost did not relent as it tore into her flesh, with its rage, biting into her body as it began to tear her apart limb from limb, as that pearly white skin turned to paper-thin skin with wrinkles and blemishes all around.
Even as those arms became lifeless, and the tunnels grew silent of her screams, Jon's direwolf did not stop as it mawled her into an unrecognizable thing.
"Cregan," Jon began the flames now dead, and his half broth—cousin stood there naked as the day he was born, as he asked again with a quivering voice.
"What is going on?" and Cregan knew that it was too late to keep any secrets from him. Yet he had made a promise to his father, but as he looked into those eyes, he realised that he could keep it no more.
"The fire? Why didn't it burn me?" he asked and Cregan's lips thinned as he took a deep breath, as Ghost finally turned up its head, the fur of its face had turned scarlet because of the witch's blood and then it moved towards Jon, and began to run its head on the side of his leg.
"You know why. I can see it in your eyes," and Jon had always been rather observant.
"Tell me. Tell me, why did the flames not bu..."
"I will," Cregan answered as he removed his cloak and pushed it into his pocket.
"But, first cover yourself," Cregan began, passing it to him.
"I do not think that this is a conversation to be had, while I am staring at your naked body," and his words did not lighten the mood as he had hoped, and for a second, it seemed like Jon would scream at him.
Yet he did not. He simply took the cloak from his hands and wrapped it around himself, as Cregan walked towards the lifeless body of Melisandrei of Asshai, and saw not the beautiful Red Priestess but the woman she had been all along—the thin, old, and frail Melony.
"Another change," he whispered, realising that too many things had changed. His eyes then moved towards the neck bracelet, which had fallen off. More specifically, he looked at the red stone at the center of it, glistening in the darkness, and he reached down and picked it off the ground.
And as soon as his fingers touched the red stone, he could feel it. Feel its power, coursing through his own body. It was a strange sensation, one which he could hardly describe in words, yet it made him feel powerful. Alive.
His connection with his direwolf Aurora, which was nothing but a lingering sensation at the back of his mind heightened, and he felt that he could warg into it even from here, hundreds of miles away from Riverrun.
He did not know what the stone was or how it was made. Yet, he was certain it would prove to be useful for him. And with Melisandrei gone, he had lost another pawn that could be used in the final battle.
So, he chose to keep and use the stone for himself, plucked it out of the gold jewellery, and put it into his pocket.
"I think you owe me some answers," Jon's voice broke him out of his trance, and Cregan turned around to look at his cousin, whose gaze was set on him.
"As I told you before, this woman here was Melisandrei of Asshai—a priestess of the Red God, R'hllor and is a servant of Stannis Baratheon," he informed him, and he knew that this was the question Jon wanted an answer to.
Yet his cousin remained quiet nonetheless.
"You called her Melony?" and Cregan nodded.
"Yes, I did. Melisandrei was a name she chose for herself. Melony was the name she was born with over two hundred years ago, I used it to confuse and disturb her, to give Ghost an opening for I knew very little about her intentions and powers," and at that Jon looked at her wrinkled skin as his eyes widened.
"Two hundred years. How is that possible?" he gasped as Cregan shrugged.
"Magic," he answered, as Jon's head snapped back towards him.
"But the Maester...."
"They are wrong," he cut in as he reached down and picked up his sword and cane before he sat down in the tunnel to rest for a few minutes.
"Magic is as real as the Sun and the Moon. You just experienced it yourself just now," and Jon was quiet for a few seconds, as his eyes fell to the ground once more, as silence spread over the tunnels
"Why didn't the flames burn me, Cregan?" Jon asked again, as he looked up once more.
"You are not an idiot, Jon," Cregan began softly for he knew that he must have an idea for himself.
"You have sat in the same lessons as I, have heard and read the same lessons as I. So, you must have an idea for yourself," and Jon did not say anything, as Cregan chose to break his promise with his father.
"Jon Snow was a name given to you by my father to protect you from harm. He made you a bastard for the world, to save your life, for he had promised his sister at her deathbed that he would protect her son," and at that, Jon's face paled as his body stilled.
He could see him shaking as he heard those words.
"No," he whispered, but it was too late to stop as Cregan felt his shoulders slouch as he continued.
"You are not a bastard, Jon. You are both a Stark and a Targaryen, a child of Ice and Fire," and Jon was now shaking his head.
"No. No. You are lying," he began to shake his head in disbelief, as Cregan sighed.
"I am not, and you know it as well. Your true name is...."
.
.
.
And as they both finally managed to open the city gates, Cregan heard the sounds of battle in the distance. He looked at Jon, who now wore armor and clothing stolen from one of the guards, as he asked.
"You know what you have to do, right?" he asked, and the black haired boy nodded gravely.
"I do," he agreed, and though the secret he had unveiled lay heavy on him, Jon as he still preferred to be called knew that this was war. A war in which he had a crucial part to play if they were to push back Stannis and his men.
"I will lead the men, myself," and for some reason the pain in his leg was gone as Cregan felt himself nearly invincible, and so after a final nod they both separated as Jon vanished into the tunnels once more with Ghost, and Cregan ran towards the stables and stole a horse for himself.
Bronn led the armies, and Cregan joined him as the sell-sword raised a brow.
"I thought I was to lead the entire army," and Cregan had thought the journey and the effort to open the gates would leave him with no energy to lead the armies, yet now he felt better and more powerful than before, so he shrugged.
"Do you have a problem if I lead my men?" and the sellsword shrugged.
"Nah, as long as you remember to pay me on time, I won't have a problem even if you make a donkey lead the army," and Cregan smiled as he galloped ahead at the tip of the army, and as they rode through the streets suddenly they found their path blocked, as a mob of people stopped them in their paths.
Cregan wanted to crush them, yet he raised his hand and pulled on the reins of his horse, and so he and his men all came to a halt as his horse galloped ahead to look at the people gathered infront of him with torches and pykes, and other household items.
"Who do I speak to?" he asked, and the men all looked at one another until one person stepped forward, holding a torch in his hand.
"You speak to us all, we are the people of this city, and we will not let you pillage and kill us just as you did years ago," and their fears may be correct, but Cregan did not have much time.
"And who are you?" someone shouted.
"Why should we let you through?"
He took a deep breath, reaching into his pocket, and he grasped the warm stone in his hands as he shouted at the top of his lungs.
"You ask me who I am," he began and the crowd grew silent.
"I am your savior, the person who rides to protect you and your city from the Monster who burnt thousands of you just so he could sit himself on the Iron Throne. I am the one who rides to stop a man who would stop at nothing and would burn you all just because you may worship a different god than him," he shouted, and his voice was so loud that all of them heard it well.
"YOU ASK ME WHO I AM!" he asked again with sheer power.
"I AM YOUR KING! AND I ASK YOU TO RIDE TO WAR WITH ME!"
0000
EDDARD STARK
The alliance with the Lannisters was a shaky one, and it had come too late for them to bring the city fully under control. The Gates and the fringes of it still remained out of their control, yet in the end, the army coming to attack them remained the larger threat, so Eddard turned his focus towards it, choosing to let go of the city fringes, as he put his trust in his son.
He was given the Command of the defence of the city and the castle, and now both his men and the Gold Cloaks and the Red Cloaks stood in formation as they fortified the Mudd Gate.
He looked at the men gathered around him and knew that they were at least a few thousand men short of what they would need to hold the city against Stannis's forces.
Their alliance with the Lannisters was not a strong one either, as he remained skeptical of the Queen's true intentions. Cregan had warned him about the Queen and her duplicitous nature, which was why he had put the Lannister men in the front, lest they try to backstab them.
But he must lead them now, for if they fell, the whole city would fall into Stannis's hands, and they would burn for their crimes.
"MEN!" he began as he addressed his army.
"BEHIND YOU IS YOUR HOME! YOUR FAMILY! IF THESE GATES AND THE MEN OUTSIDE THESE GATES WIN, THEY WILL PILLAGE YOUR HOMES! BURN YOUR FAMILIES!" he warned them and by now all of them should have heard about Stannis's red priestess.
"SO FOR TODAY YOU ARE NOT MY MEN! YOU ARE NOT LANNISTERS! YOU ARE NOT NORTHMEN! TODAY YOU ARE THIS CITY'S PROTECTORS! YOU ARE THE SHEILD THAT WILL PROTECT YOUR HOMES AND FAMILIES!" and men always fought harder if you gave them something to fight for, and nothing was better than fighting for one's family.
"TODAY YOU ARE THE SWORDS WHO WILL CUT DOWN THE ENEMIES WHO WISH TO DESTROY YOUR LIVES!" and the men roared with him as he raised his blade into the air.
"TO THE GATES!"
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.
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And the battle was hard fought, and Eddard had now long forgotten the hours he had been fighting for. All he could tell was that the ground was now littered with a thousands of dead men, and his arms had long grown heavy from using his blade.
He did not remember how many men he had cut down, as he swung down Ice and cut a man in half, as Desmond appeared besides.
"My lord! My lord, the lines are falling," he said, and the men had fought bravely, yet the numerical disadvantage was simply too great.
"Tell them to hold their lines! Help is coming," and it was prayer at this point for there had been word of any help yet, as he walked forward and saw another one of Stannis's men walking towards him.
Eddard shifted to the side to avoid his blade and pushed in, as he kicked the man's leg with his boot, making him scream, before he hit him in the face with the hilt of his sword.
"PUGH!" the bastard's sword fell, and Eddard suddenly jumped back to avoid the wild swing of his arm and cut it down with a single swift strike.
"THE LINES HAVE FALLEN!" and as soon as those words reached his ears, he felt his heart drop, yet suddenly he heard the sound of a horn and a thousand hooves. And his years spent at war made it so that he knew exactly what it was as he glanced back, and saw men rushing towards the Gate and the battlefield.
He saw the banner first, a direwolf, and his heart filled with relief as he mustered up all his strength and shouted.
"HELP IS HERE!" and he saw the forces ride past him, saw his own son leading the charge from the front, as he raised his hand and crashed into Stannis's armies.
"TO THE KINGGGGGG!"
0000
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