Chosen 'Son' Of The Seven

"And how would you reach me… bastard?" Nestor raised an eyebrow.

"Has age made you deaf, lord?" Edric questioned, his eyes glowing purple. "Do you not hear the wake of my fury, the hammer in the high skies which smites the earth?"

Lightning struck once more, closer.

Rain began to fall from the clouds, pouring down heavily. 

"Nonsense… no man can wield the sky." Nestor scoffed from atop the walls. "It is a mere coincidence, bastard boy. You are no God."

"Aye, you would be right… I am no God!"

Edric raised his left hand and spread out his fingers, seemingly grasping the sky. A purple cloud emerged above, glowing with thunderous power. Lord Nestor looked up and began to feel true fear. His hands tightened, his words were stuck in his throat, and sweat began to pour from his forehead. 

Edric's party and the garrison guarding the Gates of the Moon all watched in both awe and fear at the sight.

"It was the Gods saw fit to give me strength, knowledge, wisdom, fortitude… and the Divine Right to Rule. They saw fit to crown me, a bastard, and grant me the right to judge all living men. What you see before you is no coincidence, my treacherous lord… it is the will of the Gods!"

Thunder boomed in the skies.

"And this… is my judgement in their name!"

Crack…

Edric lowered his hand, and lightning followed.

BOOOM.

Lord Nestor was sent to the ground by a terrifying shockwave. Most of his men hesitated to even look and see if he was still alive. Edric's gaze remained on the battlements as his men began to look at him differently.

This… was no coincidence.

Whether by his own magic or by the will of the Gods, he had struck a man dead with lightning.

"Men who hold this gate, none of you need to die for the foolishness of your commanding lord. Allow us to pass safely, and no harm will come to any of you." Edric spoke with a commanding voice which seemed to only be louder during a storm. "I merely seek peace and unity in these uncertain times. Any man who is just and good would do as I ask."

No one was brave enough to deny his request.

Edric did get the gate open, riding onwards along the Giant's Lance. Some of the men guarding the gates actually joined him and his company of Vale supporters. Due to the growing steepness, he had to exchange his horse for a mule. It was not the smoothest ride… far from it. Even so, the danger did not trouble him. 

Through a mixture of diplomacy, threats and the influence of the Valemen riding alongside him, Edric had passed the Waycastles of Stone and Snow, gaining access to Sky as well. Only one obstacle remained; reaching the Eyrie, which was six hundred feet above.

~

"Your Grace, it seems that most of the men in the Eyrie are unwilling to act against Lady Lysa." John Royce informed me. "I don't believe reaching the seat of House Arryn will be at all possible. Not soon, at the very least."

"What rises up comes down eventually," I remarked, looking at the large baskets and buckets which are moved all the way up to the Eyrie with chains. It was the only way they could get supplies. "I don't believe that Lysa predicted a siege. It's likely that they do not have enough food to last all that long."

The Eyrie was truly impenetrable. The only ways up were a bloody chimney ladder and weird medieval elevators.

Forcing entry either way wouldn't be wise at all; they could either cut the chain or throw whatever could kill a man down the chimney.

If I had a dragon… all I'd need is one ride to the top.

Alas, all I could do was wait it out. After the long ride, my stomach was grumbling, so I went ahead and had some food. It wasn't the best, but I certainly had worse in my time. Since she is my betrothed, I did find myself sitting next to Arya at the head of the table.

"Lord Jon would be rolling in his grave had he known that the Vale would stand against King Robert's son." John Royce sighed. "I do not know what's gotten to Lady Lysa…"

"She has lost her mind since Lord Jon's death." Horton Redfort stated. "I am sure that the men of the Eyrie will not sit idly for much longer. They will act in favor of His Grace."

"The Vale has no reason to be in open rebellion… it is merely the wish of one foolish woman." Symond Templeton added. "His Grace should not have to ride here personally to ensure that the Vale enters the fold once again."

"Despite the trouble, I find that this experience has been worthwhile," I remarked, smiling. "The Vale has magnificent sights that one could not find anywhere else in the world. More importantly, I've had the opportunity to make new friends and know the people of the Vale better, whether they be lords or smallfolk."

"The young King speaks with wisdom, indeed!" Gilwood Hunter, who was quite the drinker, exclaimed.

"Here is your wine, Your Grace." 

One of the girls from House Waynewood served me. I smiled slightly, shaking my head.

"I like to keep a clear mind, especially during times like these."

"That doesn't stop anyone else." She chuckled.

"Maybe my lords could learn a thing or two from a young stag."

"Not even one cup?" She looked slightly disappointed. 

"I'll have water, thank you."

"I'll have water too," Arya repeated, glaring at her.

…

I finished up, said my thanks and went for a little rest. I hadn't slept in a good while. However, Arya followed me along the way.

"Is there something that you need from me?"

"You're going to kill Aunt Lysa, aren't you?"

"Are you particularly fond of her?" I questioned, knowing the answer to that already.

"No… we never met."

"In any case, I wouldn't bloody my hands without reason. The sentence for treason is death, more often than not. If the price for open rebellion was no more than a slap on the wrist… what do you think would be more likely to happen in the future?"

"More rebellions?" Arya replied.

"Yeah… more rebellions. Not that I'm afraid of battle… It's simply a waste of time, and good men from both sides. They would have died for something that could have been prevented with a more ruthless edge."

"You don't have to kill her, though. There are other punishments."

"... Of course, there are."

"The Tully's wouldn't like it. I know my mother wouldn't."

"Mayhaps Hoster Tully should've raised a wiser daughter," I replied, shaking my head. "Some fates are far worse than death, especially when it concerns a loving mother. Nevertheless, I will consider it."

We kept walking and eventually reached my temporary quarters.

"Ser Loras, take care of Arya. Make sure she doesn't do anything stupid."

"I wouldn't." She pouted slightly.

"Yes, Your Grace." He nodded and prodded the little girl along.

"…" I remarked as they left, turning to Arthur. "You must be even more tired than I am, Arthur. Switch shifts when you can. We had a long and unforgiving ride."

"I am fine, Your Grace." He smiled slightly. "Truly."

"Stop putting on a brave face, Ser." I chuckled. "I know you better than that."

"Your life is far more precious than mine own."

"Should this siege be prolonged further, we will be going on a little hunt. I need you at your best when that time comes."

"A… hunt?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Mountain Clansmen. Though, mountain outlaws would be a more fitting name for them." I stated, nodding. "I will succeed where the lowland lords of the Vale could not and rid the lands of that scourge. It is also another opportunity to taste real battle, albeit a different kind."

"I will be sharp as valyrian steel." He nodded with a serious expression. "Outlaws have no place in Your Grace's lands."

"Indeed… goodnight, Arthur."

"Rest well, Your Grace."

I opened the door and dropped myself onto the bed instantly. Just as I was getting ready to hit the sack, the door opened to Melisandre. I glanced at Arthur, who shrugged his shoulders. 

"She says she wants to advise you, Your Grace."

"Sure." I nodded.

Arthur closed the door, and I was left with the red priestess. Her scarlet red eyes looked directly at mine as she stepped closer. 

"What advice do you have for me, Melisandre?"

"I do not believe it is wise to call yourself a servant of false gods, be it true or a lie," Melisandre stated with a mysterious tone. "You are Azor Ahai reborn, the champion of the Lord of Light… your ability is proof of this."

"I do not recall R'hllor being a God of Storm," I remarked, raising a slight eyebrow.

"Lightning strikes the earth and leads to fire, does it not?" Melisandre countered.

"Heh…" I chuckled, shaking my head. "If I am truly his champion, the Lord of Light ought to be more understanding of why I act the way I do. The Seven are dominant here and have the majority of believers, especially in the south of the Seven Kingdoms where my rule is most prominent."

"Is the duty of a King not to lead his people to the light?"

"I'm afraid there isn't all that much time to convert my people and have a war of religion. There has been enough of living men fighting each other as it is." I did not shy away from her piercing gaze. "When such a great war looms on the horizon, it matters not what Gods a man follows, from where he comes from, his past deeds, ambitions or intentions. What matters is the will and ability to fight against the darkness in any way he can."

"All else… can be settled after the world sees spring once more."

"So that is how you see this matter." Melisandre smiled slightly, touching the side of my face. "I was not wrong after all. You will be the man to unite the world of the living against the Others, carrying the fate of all men on your shoulders."

"I am aware of what I have to do, red priestess." I took her hand away. "Should I fall, the rest of the world will fall with me. I can't take any chances."

"Yes… that is true." She nodded. "It is a heavy burden to carry alone. Should you require my aid, do not be afraid to ask. I am here to serve you, Edric Storm."

"... Right now, all I need is some sleep." I chuckled. "But I'll…"

"If that is what you desire…" 

"-Alone." I raised an eyebrow as she got closer to me. "Though you would surely keep me warm, I prefer to sleep a little cold."

"I see…" She smiled. "That is fine too. All great heroes need their rest."

Mans was about to get groomed. 

I watched her leave before lying down.

Girls and women alike trying to make moves on me is becoming a daily thing… I could see why Robert had so many bastards. After a good drink, why not let a little loose? Though, the prospect wasn't all that alluring to me. Perhaps because my body wasn't quite done developing yet… or perhaps because I saw it for what it was.

Gold, influence, power, titles, lands… I had so much more to offer than ever before.

The only people I could truly be certain of were those I had known when I was a 'bastard'. Or, strange as it sounds, those who openly disapprove of me. Such is Kingship, where most seek to kiss up to the man with a crown for favours in the future.

~

A few days would pass, and the Eyrie seemed to hold on, with Lysa sending a raven denouncing Edric. He left his lords to continue starving them out, with Yohn Royce being named commander. After that, he turned his eyes to the lowlands, taking his entourage of skilled warriors with him. He travelled with a small number on purpose… as that would draw out the mountain clans.

As intended, they would draw out a tribe along the Mountains of the Moon.

…

While making camp in a forest, half a dozen arrows descended upon them - missing completely. Edric took his goldenheart bow while his band of men drew their swords. They surrounded them, adding up to thirty against Edric's twelve. Himself, his five Kingsguard, Sandor Clegane, Garlan Tyrell and four skilled Vale knights.

"Encircle me," Edric commanded, and his subjects obeyed, covering him. "Let them come to us."

He drew an arrow and let it sing - penetrating right through one of the opposing archer's skulls. He dropped to the floor as a dead man. Some of the clansmen saw it, their eyes widening.

Shew. Shew. Shew.

He continued to fire, diminishing their numbers with every passing second. As always, he took out the archers first.

In desperation, they charged into Edric's formation.

"Spread out and slaughter them."

The blades of the Kingsguard began to paint with blood, dispatching the poorly armed and trained outlaws with ease. Ser Arthur's Nightfall cut through their weapons and flesh like a hot knife through butter. Garlan Tyrell faced four of them at once, patiently dismantling them one after the other. Sandor instantly killed one with a spear throw before drawing his sword and overpowering them with his mixture of brutish strength and superior skill.

By the end, Edric's party didn't suffer a single loss or even a notable wound due to Edric's support.

"Your skill with the bow is truly frightening to behold, Your Grace." Garlan Tyrell smiled. "You have only improved since the invasion of the Iron Islands. These poor outlaws… I can almost pity them."

"This is just the beginning, Ser."

Edric replied, the sky above darkening with ominous clouds.

He was gunning for Archery 100, loaded with thousands of arrows… and it would be the mountain clansmen that would pay for it.