Chapter 39: Balon's Doom

"Kessar." Jon said slowly.

Dany giggled, shaking her head. "Kessa." She repeated herself again.

"Kessa." Jon managed, and Dany grinned.

"Very good!" She exclaimed. "Now you've got yes, no is 'Daor'."

They were both sat down on the bed in Dany's master chambers. Jon was being taught High Valyrian, with Dany telling him that all Targaryen's knew the language like the back of their hands. He was picking it up, but likewise with Dothraki it was taking a while. "Daor."

Dany smiled. "That's right."

Jon leant back. "It was Torrhen that picked it up quickly. I was simply a bastard then, so I didn't need to learn any other language, I just went outside and sparred instead."

Dany nodded. "It impressed me the first time I met him, back then." She admitted. "He had travelled to Meereen looking for an alliance after House Bolton had taken over. He had only just been introduced to me and before I could speak he informalised his name before adding 'let us not argue over titles'."

"He's never been one to use flowery words, normally straight to the point if he can be." Jon nodded. "It still seems odd to me, you knowing him."

Dany chuckled lightly. "I can only imagine." She sighed. "For me it was so long ago now, but we helped one another through dark times and came out stronger for it. He introduced me to you, and you got me to focus on the true fight to the North, even when all the Northern Lords were against it he stood by me and aided me."

Jon recognised the look in her eye. "Did you love him?" He asked quietly.

"No." Dany said honestly. "We used one another, nothing more. I have only ever truly loved one man in my life, Jon. The man I married by choice."

Jon felt awkward, knowing she meant the other version of him. "I imagine you're looking forward to seeing him again."

"As are you, I would hope. He is still your family." Dany said pointedly. "Your Lentor."

Jon groaned. "Is that another Valyrian phrase?"

Dany smirked. "It means family. An important word for the last two living Targaryen's."

"Lentor." Jon copied, and Dany's nod confirmed he had it right. "Aye, I'm looking forward to seeing them once more, but I came here for a reason. I came here for you."

Dany smiled, reaching out and touching his cheek. "And I am grateful, truly. I'm not as lonely as I was in Essos before." She removed her hand then smirked at him. "What is 'fly'?" She asked, continuing the lesson.

"So I'll ride for Greyport, take me and my men along the coast until we get to here." Torrhen explained, pointing at the cove on the Frozen Shore. "Then we will make our way over to the Skirling Pass and hopefully find Mance Rayder."

Ned nods. "Very well. All your supplies are ready, you can leave at dawn if you wish."

"Aye, the sooner the better." Torrhen sighed. "Mira still doesn't like it."

"Neither does your Mother. But you were right, this is necessary." Ned told him. "By bringing the Wildlings south we limit the army of the dead drastically." He handed Torrhen a few sheets of parchment. "Those are my terms. I've numbered them, start with the first one and negotiate down to the third if needed, but they cannot pass if they don't agree to both the boundaries, and to keep the King's Peace if they venture into our lands, that is non-negotiable."

Torrhen nodded his acknowledgement. "I understand."

Ned smiled and clapped his hand on Torrhen's shoulders. "I'm proud of you for stepping up here, never forget that."

Torrhen smiled awkwardly. "Somebody had to."

"But you didn't need to volunteer to go." Ned said plainly. "Go on, go and spend time with the others before you go. I've taken up enough of your time."

Torrhen grinned, hugging his Father briefly before he ran out of the room. He made it to the courtyard and saw Domeric Bolton riding around with Arya chasing after him. Sansa was sat to one side, smiling at the pair. "He gets on well with everyone, it seems."

"He's not his Father." Sansa smiled, immediately recognising the voice. "He's a good man."

Torrhen knew that. "You'll be happy, I know it."

Sansa nodded, but her smile faded. "He wants to come with you."

"What?"

Sansa repeated herself. "He wants to come with you North of the Wall. He feels that a Stark and a Bolton together will be a message that even the Wildlings can't ignore."

Torrhen had to admit that he understood the logic. "What about his Father? Lord Bolton won't want…"

"Lord Bolton isn't here." Sansa said firmly. "He's hundreds of miles away in the Iron Islands." She sighed. "He's thought this through, Tor. Even when I asked him not to go."

Torrhen smirked. "Nobody wants us to go, but it's the right thing to do. We need them as allies, Sansa. The alternative could kill us all." He looked on as Domeric and Arya were still racing around, the girl cackling with laughter as she almost knocked a worker over. "He can come, he's right, even in the North some will have heard of the animosity between Stark and Bolton, this would do us good."

"I'd like to go too." Another voice came from behind them. Cregan Glenmore had a quiver full of training arrows. "The mission is vital, and I could help."

Torrhen grinned, gripping Cregan's forearm in a handshake. "You're more than welcome my friend."

Domeric took that moment to ride back to the stables with Arya, dismounting and walking over towards them. "Are the preparations all set?" He asked, unsubtly.

Torrhen grinned. "Aye, we leave at dawn. So you best gather your warmest furs if you are sure about coming too."

Dom looked between Sansa and Torrhen with a small grin. "I'm sure." He said firmly, shaking Torrhen's hand eagerly.

"Very well. Rest up tonight." Torrhen explained to them both. "It's going to be a long journey."

Bran hadn't realised how much he had missed dry land until he first stepped foot on the dirt paths in Lordsport. He was fully armoured up, with his own helmet, his steel gorget that he hated as it was tight on his neck, and he even had a small dagger in his sword belt along with his sword. He was in Stannis' party as they walked through the cheering ranks of royalist forces. As they got closer towards what remained of the castle of Pyke, Bran noticed that the southern forces had given way to Northmen, and he was excited to see Stark armour.

Outside the castle, he noticed the Stark banners flapping furiously in the heavy wind. He grinned when he saw the curly mop of a haircut that his oldest brother had as Robb was stood over a kneeling old man with scraggly long hair, Balon Greyjoy. Summer immediately rushed over towards Grey Wind, whilst the rest of them stood at attention, waiting.

"Lord Stannis." Robb greeted formally, his face trained on Balon with a scowl. "The traitor Balon Greyjoy."

Stannis looked between the two. "Excellent work, Lord Robb." Stannis commented. He stepped towards the kneeling Greyjoy. "Here we are again, another failed rebellion and you are on your knees yet again." Balon said nothing, he only spat at Stannis' feet. Robb kicked the old man in the chest, causing him to keel over. He was hauled up to his knees by a man in Bolton colours, and Stannis stepped closer. "Was it worth it?"

Balon said nothing yet again. "Answer him, Greyjoy." Robb growled.

Stannis held his hand up to stop any further physicality. "Take him to the Fury. Lock him up in the cell with his daughter and have 5 men guarding him at all times." The order was obeyed and Balon was dragged away without too much resistance, he only scowled at Stannis as he was led past the Baratheon. "Ser Davos." Stannis barked, and the Onion Knight was soon at his side. Bran went and walked towards his brother, who enveloped him in another hug.

"You're safe." Robb whispered, relieved. "Everyone will be thrilled to hear it."

"What happened?" Bran asked excitedly. "One moment we were simply sieging as normal, and the next we saw flames and fighting on the island!"

Robb grinned. "We knew you had Lordsport secured, so when our own ships arrived we sailed with muffled oars at night towards the other side of the island and took the Ironborn from behind. The castle was damaged, and we managed to take it and capture Balon." Bran grinned at the image, thinking how glorious it must have been. "What about you? How have you fared."

Bran gulped. "Our ship was attacked almost a week back. Summer killed Yara Greyjoy and I… I killed a man."

Robb looked sadly at Bran. "You had no choice." He said kindly, kneeling before Bran to be eye level. "Gods… you're only 11."

"It was scary." Bran admitted. "But if I hadn't…"

Robb knew what he meant and brought Bran in for another hug. "You did well, even though I wish you could stay away from all of this."

Bran shook his head. "You are fighting, Torrhen is fighting. I need to do my part."

Robb smirked at his younger brother's determination. "Aye, you'll be a fine knight one day, I know it." Robb ruffled Bran's hair, causing the younger Stark to complain.

"Lord Robb." Stannis' voice stopped the brothers from their informal greeting. "How many are you?"

"A few thousand." Robb shrugged.

Stannis looked up towards Pyke. "House Greyjoy is finished now. His Grace cannot afford to be generous this time, so we must tear the castle down."

Robb nodded. "I'll bring my ships around and we will begin the bombardments at your orders."

Stannis nodded. "Very good. Come, Brandon. There will be time to catch up later."

"My Lord." Bran nodded. He smiled at Robb, who hugged him again quickly before he walked away with Roose Bolton.

Stannis walked alongside him as they walked back towards Lordsport. "Do you know why we are doing this?" He asked. "Tearing down the castle?"

Bran did. "To send a message. Do not defy the King."

Stannis nodded. "Pyke was the stronghold of the Lords of the Iron Islands for three centuries. That means something, even to the Ironborn. They'll choose their own leader no doubt, but they will never have the same strength as they did with Pyke."

Torrhen was woken up by a servant before dawn the next day. Mira was still sleeping beside him, so he tried to get dressed quietly, but after he pulled his black leather Stark armour over his head he dropped his belt on the stone floor, and his wife stirred.

"I didn't mean to wake you." Torrhen said quietly.

"I'm glad you did." Mira said softly, stretching.

Torrhen grinned as the covers fell as she did so, exposing her upper body. He walked over towards her and gave her a long kiss. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

Mira nodded, placing her hand on Torrhen's cheek, allowing him to lean into it. "Just make sure this is worthwhile." She said quietly.

"It will be." Torrhen promised. He kissed her once more and moved to pull his boots on. Once that was done he went looking for his cloak, only to see that Mira had it in her arms, having pulled a nightdress on. "Thank you." He said, allowing her to place it over his shoulders. He tied it in place and stood to face her. "How do I look?"

Mira looked up and stroked his cheek, the stubble itching the back of her hand. "By the time you come back to me you'll likely have a beard."

Torrhen chuckled. "I have missed it."

Mira kissed him once more. "Go and see Asher, I'll get changed and meet you in the courtyard."

Torrhen obeyed the command, stepping back and bowing. "As My Lady commands."

He turned with a grin and left the room to go to the one next door, where his son was sleeping in his cot. He leant on the wooden railing and stared down at the sleeping baby. He kissed his non-gloved hand and placed it on the babe's forehead, before he turned and left quietly, careful not to wake Asher up.

As he made his way down to the courtyard he was surprised to see a gathering of people there to wave him off. He hugged Arya tightly, making her promise to keep training with the bow, and he hugged both his Mother and his Father goodbye too. Lastly though he stood in front of both Mira and Sansa, the latter of who had already said farewell to Domeric.

"Don't die." Sansa said firmly.

Torrhen chuckled. "I don't plan on it."

Sansa grinned, and caught him in a hug. "I love you." She whispered emotionally.

"And I you." Torrhen whispered back, stroking her hair gently. Sansa pulled away with tears in her eyes as she moved to stand by Catelyn. Mira was also looking tearful. "I'll be back before you know it." He told his wife.

"Just come back." She stated. Torrhen nodded and kissed his wife, before his new horse, a black Garron, was brought to him. Obsidian was a destrier and bred for war, while North of the Wall Torrhen would need a sturdy beast that could handle the snow and ice. He looked around him and saw 11 other men, including Domeric Bolton and Cregan Glenmore, along with a wagon full of dozens of sacks containing Dragonglass arrows and daggers.

With a final nod towards his gathered family, Torrhen turned to one of the Stark guards in the party. "Raise the banners." He said, and soon enough the black direwolf of Torrhen's branch of House Stark, the flayed man of House Bolton and the white, drawn bow and arrow on a brown field of House Glenmore were all raised. Torrhen nodded, waving once more to his family before shouting. "Ride on!" and kicking his Garron into movement.

For the first time in a long time, King's Landing was a city that felt positive. Trade was returning and the people were happier than they had been for a very long time. Even Olenna Tyrell was pleased. Loras had pulled through and his wife Leonette had birthed a son they had named Lyonel, meaning that for the time being the succession of House Tyrell was secure. The King was also enthralled in newborn bliss and he doted on his new daughter every chance he could, yet there was always one topic that would bring rage straight back to Robert Baratheon.

"There is news of Essos, the Targaryen girl is making a name for herself on the far side of the Dothraki Sea it seems." Lady Olenna explained. "Her husband is dead, as is her unborn son." She had heard a bit more of course, but if Ned Stark himself hadn't told Robert that his supposed bastard had travelled halfway across the world to travel with Daenerys Targaryen, then she didn't see the need to do so either.

She noticed Ser Barristan looking uncomfortable at the news, but everybody else in the room seemed relatively pleased. "Well that's fantastic, is it not?" Renly asked.

"She also seems to have done the impossible and hatched three dragons." Olenna said plainly.

The council fell silent at that, before Wyman Manderly laughed. "Three dragons? The dragons are all gone! How preposterous."

"Can this be confirmed?" Robert asked, his eyes narrowing.

Olenna shrugged. "Perhaps when they arrive at a major port city then news could spread towards us. Until then, all I have is the word of one Essosi sailor."

The King was grimacing. "Dragons…" He muttered. "Fucking dragons. Confirm it, Lady Olenna. If this is true then I want all of them dead. The girl, the dragons, all of them."

Olenna knew she couldn't do that, but she dutifully bowed her head and agreed to it anyway. The King stood up, and Olenna appreciated how his figure was drastically thinner than when he had hosted the tournament for Ned Stark. He was still rather large but getting thinner. "Ser Barristan, I need to hit something."

The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard stood up as well and followed the King out. Renly Baratheon followed soon after, and soon it was just the old lady and the overweight Northerner that was left in the Small Council chamber. Olenna was just about to depart when Lord Manderly spoke, his voice less jovial than usual when in public, and with a firm undertone to it. "You are aware the dragons cannot die, nor can the girl." Olenna looked around in surprise, and Lord Manderly had a knowing smirk on his face. "My Granddaughter is the mother of the future Lord of Winterfell, Lord Stark has shared things with me. I know about the girl, I know about who is with her. I know that you know that as well, My Lady."

Olenna was impressed. "My dear boy, it seems I have underestimated you."

Wyman nodded. "Most do when they see me, Lady Olenna. It gives me a certain advantage."

Olenna smirked. "Then come, Lord Manderly." She held out her arm for him to take. "It seems we have much to discuss."

Astapor was a hot city. Even as the sun was barely rising in the sky Jon felt overwhelmed. He left his cloak on the ship when they departed for the docks and even then he felt too warm. They had sent word ahead as to their business in Astapor, and together with Jorah and Dany the trio were greeted at the docks by one of the Good Masters of Astapor, Kraznys mo Nakloz, and his translator. The Good Master led them over the city walls speaking a bastardised version of Valyrian. Dany had told him earlier to not worry about what the man was saying, and Jon was glad, as he couldn't understand him properly anyway.

Thankfully, the translator was on hand as they walked towards a gate, where a number of the slave soldiers were standing at attention. "The Unsullied have stood here for a day and a night with no food or water." Jon felt uncomfortable as he looked at them, placing his hand on Ghost's neck for comfort. "They will stand until they drop. Such is their obedience."

They walked through the gate and approached a small host of Unsullied, and Jon's quick count came to 72 of the slave warriors. He felt ill knowing that they were all likely starving and thirsty, but he kept silent, knowing that Dany had wanted him to trust her. As they approached, the Unsullied moved to create a pathway through the middle of their formation. "They may suit my needs." Dany said formally, a tone Jon wasn't used to. "Tell me of their training."

The translator, Missandei, spoke to the Good Master, and he spoke back as they ascended a platform, a better view of the slave soldiers. Jon noted their distinct lack of movement and was impressed at their discipline. "They begin their training at five. Every day they drill from dawn to dusk until they have mastered the short sword, the shield, and the three spears. Only one boy in four survives this rigorous training." The translator told them in the common tongue. The Master said something else before the translator added. "Their discipline and loyalty are absolute. They fear nothing."

"Even the bravest men fear death." Jorah commented.

The translator did her job, and the Master responded. Ghost turned to face the Astapori, a silent snarl forming. Jon placed his hand reassuringly on the Direwolf, but he succeeded in scaring the Master.

"Master Kraznys asks you to keep your wolf under control." The translator said, her eyes wide in fear.

Jon looked at Dany, who he knew by her face could understand everything that was being said and wasn't impressed. Dany just nodded once, and Jon gripped Ghost's fur. "Calm down, Ghost." He said quietly. The Direwolf stopped his snarl, but his eyes were trained on Kraznys.

"My Master also says that the Unsullied are not men, so do not fear death." The girl said. Kraznys said something else in a dismissive tone and began descending the platform. "He begs you attend to this carefully."

Kraznys began explaining something as he walked up to the nearest Unsullied and gestured for him to move forwards. The soldier did so, and Kraznys moved the shield and spear out the way before taking the Unsullied's knife and exposing his nipple. Jon looked at Dany in horror, but she just stood their stone faced. Jon swallowed down his horror and continued to look on, his hand firmly gripped in Ghost's fur. Kraznys then dismissed the Unsullied soldier and turned back to them, explaining something.

"To win his shield, an Unsullied must go to the slave marts with a silver mark, find a newborn, and kill it before its mother's eyes. This way, my master says, we make certain there is no weakness left in them." The translator explained.

"That's barbaric." Jon said before he could stop himself. The translator then said something to Kraznys, and they spoke for a moment before she responded to him.

"It is to ensure that the Unsullied remain strong against all odds that may face them." The woman explained.

Jorah nodded. "We've all heard of the Three Thousand of Qohor." The Mormont explained.

"How many are available?" Dany asked quickly.

Kraznys listened to the translation and looked deadpan at Daenerys, holding eight fingers up. "8,000." The translator confirmed. After Kraznys said something else, the translator added. "Master Kraznys asks that you please hurry, many other buyers are interested."

Kraznys left them at that point, and moments later Dany, Jon and Jorah were walking back towards the Astapor harbour. "Do we need them?" Jon asked.

Dany nodded. "Forget for a moment my mission to eradicate slavery from the world, do you remember what I told you about rescuing my friends?" Jon nodded. "Missandei, the translator, was the greatest of them. I would do this a thousand times if it meant rescuing her from being molested and raped by that vile man night after night."

Jon suddenly felt a pang of sympathy for the translator. "You have a plan then?"

Dany smirked as she walked. "What are our House words, Jon? Once I have an army I have no need of these slavers." Jon simply grinned knowingly.