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Divide and Conquer, Chapter 20: Innocence Lost
🕑 Added 2025-06-09 14:52:17 +0000 UTCTheir entire family watched nervously as his mother went to work, carefully using the glass candles to reach into the minds of...
Second Moon, 108 AD (7 AC)
Aegor Targaryen
Their entire family watched nervously as his mother went to work, carefully using the glass candles to reach into the minds of his elder siblings and try and call them back from the darkness their minds had been lost in.
There was a pin-drop silence in the room, none daring to disturb his mother’s concentration for fear that it would have dire consequences for their loved ones. That was why even his father and aunt were not acting as well. Mother was by far the best of the whole family with glass candles and with how delicate minds were and how fragile Aerion and Valaena’s psyches were, she was the only any of them felt comfortable entrusting this most important of tasks to.
Aegor watched nervously, unable to get the fear out of his mind as the glass candle flared to life with its unpleasantly bright light and warped all the colors as it always did. Reds burned like flames, yellows glowed like gold, white shone as bright as fresh fallen snow, and shadows darkened into holes in the world.
What if something went wrong? What if Aerion and Valaena were gone forever? What if they never woke up and died? Or what if they did but not the same as they had been?
He took a deep breath trying to calm himself. Beside him, Rhaena carried her pet cat Sable in her arms, hugging her close for comfort and calm as she tried to calm her own nerves. Despite his worries, Aegor let himself smile for a moment at the adorable sight. He wrapped his arms around his sister and love and tried to bring comfort to them both. His hands ran gently over Sable’s smooth fur, finding it soothing just as Rhaena did.
Aegor tried to keep his mind off it, but he just couldn’t.
It had been three weeks since Caraxes and Meleys had landed unexpectedly in Summerhall. Aegor remembered rushing to the roof of Dragonsreach, eager to see his siblings and inquire as to their unexpected return from the Vale when to his horror he had noticed both of them were severely injured and unconscious.
A bone white arrow with red fletching had been embedded in Aerion’s calf, two similar arrows in Valaena’s back, and severe injuries and parts of their skin and flesh torn out all over their faces and bodies as if they had been savaged by wild beasts. As a bird keeper, Aerion recognized all too well what animals had dealt them those wounds. Both of them had almost bled to death in the time it had taken their dragons to bring them home from wherever they had been attacked.
Immediately he had ordered his siblings be given medical care before him and Grand Uncle Daemon had informed their parents, Aegor using the glass candle and his grand uncle ravens. It had taken their parents barely two days to return, before his grand uncle’s ravens had even had the chance to reach them. And with not a minute to spare for both of the ‘twins’ had fallen ill the very night their dragons had brought them home.
The arrows that had struck them had been laced with many foul and unknown poisons and toxins that had mixed and bound to each other and the weirwood in strange ways that confounded all of their maesters and healers. Only his mother had found any success treating them with the family’s tomes and arcane lore and even then, she said it had been almost too late to save them.
It might still be, Aegor thought downcast as he watched sweat bead down his mother’s face as she concentrated harder and harder. Even after the poisons had been purged from their bodies and their wounds slowly begin to heal and scar (giving them yet more reasons to be known as Bloodstained, he thought morosely), neither Aerion nor Valaena had woken up despite all of their attempts, not truly.
Yes still, the family gathered, week after week, desperately watching as his mother tried and failed to wake them. The maesters and healers had warned them that the longer they remained like this, the higher the chances they would simply expire one day. They were already struggling to feed them water and honey to keep them hydrated and fed. The situation simply could not continue.
They had to wake up soon, or they would die.
As the specter of death truly loomed over those he cared about for the first time that he could ever remember, Aegor had to hold back tears. There had been a lot of crying in the family the past three weeks. His aunt had been inconsolable at the sight of her precious eldest girl and all of his siblings hadn’t been able to resist crying either.
The only ones that hadn’t had been his parents and himself. They had to be strong as the rest of their family fell apart around them. They had to be strong because if they weren’t, then no one else would and all was truly lost.
Aegor knew, and he dreaded, that if his elder brother and sister died, he would be the new eldest child in the family, the new heir to their parents’ legacy. It wasn’t something he wanted.
It had always been Aerion and Valaena’s to carry and all of them had looked up to them with awe and wonder at how capable they were, how prepared they seemed to be for it all. When they had heard the stories of the Deluge of Blood, of how they had become the Bloodstained Red Twins, Aegor had wanted nothing more than to join them. To follow in their footsteps with pride as he contributed to cementing their family’s legacy and making their parents’ dream come true.
They all had, Rhaena and all the others had felt the same as him, he was certain. They had been filled with such pride and amazement at their elder siblings’ accomplishments, and they had dared to dream and imagine themselves joining them when the time was right. Yet what had such glories brought his beloved siblings but an early grave?
NO! No, they weren’t dead yet. He couldn’t lose hope, he couldn’t. Yet as his mother’s expression continued to grow more desperate, the last embers of Aegor’s hope began to fade away.
When his mother finally returned to herself and awoke, the glass candle extinguished, she was sweating from exertion and exhausted. As she panted breathlessly on the chair, Aegor could feel the impatience from his siblings and his father and aunt as they watched his mother and the twins for anything at all.
Finally, Mother shook her head. “I’ve done all that I can. I reached out and called to them, pulled their consciousness to the surface as much as I could. Aerion was more responsive but only slightly. Not enough for me to truly wake him up.” She sighed. “It’s out of our hands now. Whether they wake up or not, is up to them.”
His aunt choked down a mournful cry of despair and his younger siblings all looked despondent. Rhaena clung all the more tighter to Sable and their father just looked stony-faced and grim as he began comforting his aunt and leading the rest of his siblings out of the room.
Aegor was about to do the same before Rhaena approached Valaena’s bedside. Feeling duty-bound to follow her, Aegor stayed in the room even as the rest of their family vacated the premises in grief and despair. The only ones left in the room with the twins now were himself, Rhaena, and his mother, still catching her breath. Dutifully, Aegor saw to his mother but she waved off his concerns with a slight smile before he turned back to his sister.
Rhaena just stood there for a time, as if at a loss for words, before she finally set Sable down to rest on their sister’s sleeping body. The affectionate little cat snuggled up to Valaena’s neck and Aegor felt his heart break all over again. Valaena had been the one to give Rhaena Sable when she was a kitten.
“You be a good girl and look after her for me alright Sable? Look after both of them,” Rhaena said, breaking down in tears as she fell to her knees. She continued to sob quietly, as she petted her cat and held onto Valaena’s hand.
Valaena and Rhaena had always been very close to each other, full blooded sisters and the eldest of his Aunt Rhaenys’ children and his father’s daughters. Returning Sable to her beloved sister seemed to be Rhaena’s way of trying to look after Valaena in these dark times, no matter how much she might have wanted to bury her tears in the cat’s soothing smooth fur.
Never one to tarry long, his mother eventually laid her hand gently but firmly on Rhaena’s shoulder once she had recovered. An unspoken reminder not to remain idle for long, that there were duties that had to be seen to even in the throes of grief if they wanted to honor their brother and sister’s memory.
When Rhaena did not respond, his mother turned to him and reluctantly he helped Rhaena to her feet and led her out of the room.
The rest of the day passed almost in a daze for Aegor. He continued to attend his lessons and train in the yard and his parents and aunt took the opportunity to impart some lessons to him and his younger siblings before they left again. They had been away from the frontlines for three weeks already and they all knew they could not stay much longer no matter how much they wanted to. There was nothing they could do for Aerion and Valaena at this point.
Bitterly, Aegor wondered if their parents were just waiting for their eldest children to die before they simply left. Back to their precious war.
He sighed. He knew that was going too far. Their parents loved each and every one of them very much, and they had proven that many times. Had he not seen for himself his mother’s desperation and his aunt’s despair? It just felt hard sometimes. They should be here, by their side. For Aerion and Valaena. For the rest of them. Yet soon, inevitably, whether his brother and sister lived or died, their parents would leave and go back to their war and Aegor could not help but resent that.
It wasn’t fair. None of it was. Aerion and Valaena should be alive, awake, and well. His parents should be home with them, and Westeros should have submitted and knelt already. Yet everywhere they looked, more enemies arose and just as they seemed to be making progress putting them down, this happened.
Dinner was a solemn affair that night. The entire family ate together, sans two, for the first time in months, yet no one spoke a word. It felt surreal to even think about it, but this was their first real family dinner ever since their parents had returned to lecture Aerion and Valaena for the stunts that had seen them named the Bloodstained. Gods that felt like a lifetime ago now, not five months.
Unable to take it any longer, once he had finished with his food, Aegor excused himself and made his way to his chambers. He was just so, so tired. He was tired of the war, tired of all the grief and pain his family was feeling, tired of everything.
Aegor just laid there on his bed, staring up at the ceiling and wondering what he could do. He just felt so useless.
“Aegor,” a voice suddenly chirped.
He turned his head slightly to see his white raven perched on his mount in the corner of the room. The bird tilted his head at him curiously.
“Sad.”
He chuckled painfully and sighed before he got to his feet, opening the drawer to pull out a snack for his pet.
“That’s right Cloud, I’m sad,” he said as he handed him the nut.
Cloud eagerly ate the snack before cawing again. “Aegor! Sad! Aegor! Sad!”
He shook his head. “There’s nothing you can do about it my friend. But thank you,” he told him. Idly he wondered what his other ‘bird’ was doing right now. Maybe he should call Arrax and take him out for a ride one of these days. Flying always helped him take his mind off things.
Aegor stroked Cloud’s feathers for a little longer before he left to take a bath and get ready for bed. There was no point in him staying up any longer and just brooding. Tomorrow would be a new day, and he would let tomorrow’s Aegor deal with tomorrow’s problems.
His dreams were strange that night. Full of screaming children, roaring dragons, screeching birds, barking dogs, and hissing cats. Aegor slowly stirred in the middle of the night and opened his eyes. Cloud was gone from his perch, as was his wont. The spoilt bird had free rein over his quarters ever since he had trained him well enough to do his business in the right spot.
In the distance, he could have sworn he could hear the agitated roars of all of their family’s dragons but that couldn’t be right, could it? He was still so sleepy he must be imagining things.
Suddenly his doors burst open and the still groggy Aegor was shocked to full waking as two Dragonguard charged in before he could react and started checking him obsessively.
“My prince! Thank the gods you are safe! You must come with us. Quicky! Your family is under attack my prince!”
That got Aegor to act faster than anything else they could have said. “What? What’s going on?” he said as he jumped out of bed.
The dragons roared again. Closer, louder, and more urgent than before.
“We don’t know my prince! But the animals have started attacking your family! Your siblings’ pet dogs and cats have all turned on them! And your parents have been beset by a horde of rats that crawled up from the gutters and a flock of birds that seemed to have flown in somehow. We have to get you to safety!”
Then those sounds hadn’t been dreams at all. They had been real. A panicked thought occurred to him. Hadn’t Rhaena left her cat in Aerion and Valaena’s room??
Filled with urgency and fear like he had never felt before, Aegor ran ahead of his Dragonguard.
“My prince!” they called out desperately before something slammed into him. Throwing his running, off-balance body to the floor.
A piercing pain erupted in the left side of his face as he felt it tearing and pecking at his flesh. Aegor screamed in agony as he felt pain the likes of which he could never have imagined. It was an unbearable torture as he felt the sharpness drive into his flesh and tear something out. Something precious, something he could never, ever, get back.
And then as quickly as the pain came, it was ripped away and he could hear the Dragonguard’s furious yells as they pounded and stomped on it and cut it down with their blades. Outside, the dragons’ roars had become almost deafening as they started to circle the the tower.
Aegor covered his wound with his hand, desperately trying to staunch the profuse bleeding. He turned to see what had attacked him and his heart stopped. Pure white feathers that had been named for clouds as bright as freshly fallen snow on a warm summer day, now stained with splotches of dark, ugly, red. Unmoving and so ever still.
Shock was followed by denial, denial by betrayal, and betrayal by grief.
Yet there was no time to mourn or process what had just happened. If even he could turn on him, Aerion and Valaena stood no chance. They had to go, now.
The Dragonguard tried to stop him, however. “My prince, you are injured!” they begged as they caught and held him.
He shook his head furiously and cried, “There’s no time! Rhaena’s cat is with Aerion and Valaena!”
A panicked expression of fear and understanding spread across their faces as they nodded. One picked him up as they took off into a desperate sprint. They raced through the corridors. Past the rats swarming on the floor, and the platoons of Dragonguard fending off birds of prey with their swords. Past the crying screams of his younger siblings and the shouted orders of their parents that echoed hauntingly into the night even as the dragons continued to roar, sharing the pain and grief with their riders.
After what felt like an eternity, they had arrived at the room where the twins were laying on the brink of death and Aegor hoped against all hope that his sister’s cat had not finished them off. The Dragonguard carrying him set him down as his brother threw open the door and all three of them charged into the room, prepared for a fight.
Instead, they saw the strangled, beaten-up body of Sable, his sister’s cat, lying dead on the floor. Her once smooth and pristine black fur was all matted and ruffled now, battered and bloodied. They turned and saw the culprit sitting on Valaena’s bed.
Fresh bite and claw marks were all over his arms and hand, red and bloody, tearing open the previous wounds the birds had given him all those weeks ago. His dark purple eyes were dazed and confused, and his body was frighteningly thin and weak, clearly shaking and trembling from so much exertion after weeks of wastage, but he was awake and alive.
“Aerion,” Aegor breathed out in awe, joy, and so many other emotions. So amazed was he, that he did not even notice that his left hand had slipped just enough to expose his own bloody and ugly wound as his whole body slumped in relief and exhaustion. Beside his brother, their sister continued to sleep, her mind still lost in darkness, but not a single new wound marred her skin. Not one scratch.
His brother rose to his feet unsteadily, limping in sharp pain on the leg that had had an arrow embedded in its calf a scant three weeks ago.
“Aegor.” He choked out his name as if he wanted to scream or cry. His face an expression of horror. “Your eye.”
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The Warg
It had taken everything Brandon had had to wait so long to act. He was honestly impressed with the amount of self-control he had managed the past three weeks.
Everything started on that fiery day at the Twins. He and his Wolf’s Teeth had gone out to scout the surrounding area. They had barely been laying siege to the Twins for three days. Not enough time, they had thought, for ravens to get to where the Targaryens were and inform them. For the Targaryens to arrive with their dragons.
They had been caught off-guard, and his brother and eldest nephew and namesake had paid the price for it. Twenty thousand Northmen had died that day and Brandon had only been able to watch in horror. Later, his grief was compounded when he realized that the accursed Red Twins had come from the northwest. From the direction of the Three Sisters. His second nephew Rodrik had probably died as well in their onslaught.
“The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives.”
His father had said that to him and Torrhen, the day he had brought him to Winterfell to live with them. The day he had taken him in and acknowledged him, made him a Stark in all but name. In gratitude, Brandon had strived to live by those words all his life, always serving his pack faithfully.
But the only Starks left now were himself, Edwyle in Winterfell, and Sansa in White Harbor. Torrhen, his namesake, and Rodrik had all been taken far too soon by the wretched Targaryens. But their memory would live on. The North remembered. They would never forget, and they would never forgive. And Brandon would be the tool of their vengeance.
His Stark pack may be decimated, but he had another pack as well, his Wolf’s Teeth. And together they would avenge their countrymen and kin, no matter the cost.
He remembered how they had tracked the Bloodstained pair from the Twins with their birds. How a stroke of good fortune had come as they had unwisely stopped to frolick like foolish children a few short miles south of the Twins. They had stayed there long enough for the Wolf’s Teeth to catch up to them, to position themselves just right with perfect shots to kill them both.
Brandon had made a mistake then. He had used his raven Ebony to land in the tree right on top of them, and many of his brethren had followed his lead. He hadn’t been able to resist the idea of looking them in the eye, the murderers of his kin, and gloating as they died.
Unfortunately, because of that, the Red Twins had survived. Barely, but alive, nonetheless.
The Wolf’s Teeth had paid dearly for that mistake. A score of his men had been killed, burned in the fiery rampage the dragon Meleys had unleashed, or had had their minds broken and eviscerated by the two dragons when they had tried possessing either them or their riders. Proving once and for all, that the dragons could not be skinchanged and that it was perilous to even try, or to even touch the minds of their riders which they jealously guarded.
It was made even worse by the fact that they been but fifty strong when this had all started and now, they were down twenty men. Even those who had survived had not escaped without mental or physical injuries. Most of them now had scars, either from the burns or the death of so many of their bonded birds.
His own Ebony had died in the flames, and Brandon had almost lost his mind from the pain of dying with her in her skin; the heat of the fire, the feeling of your flesh burning until it turned into ash… It had almost been too much.
Yet in the end he had recovered. He couldn’t break, not yet. Not until his revenge was complete. He had rallied what remained of his men, and after they had buried their fallen comrades, they had ridden hard south in pursuit of the Red Twins. They were going to Summerhall they had surmised correctly. And with the lessons they had learned from their previous attempt, they would make sure to finish the job this time, they had sworn. They didn’t need to control the dragons or Targaryens’ minds to kill them dead after all.
Over the next three weeks they had made their way to Summerhall, travelling light and living off the land to move as fast as they could. When they finally arrived in the nascent city, they hadn’t been able to believe their luck.
The older Targaryens had returned home, concerned about their eldest children no doubt, and in their arrogance, they had not thought to send their younger children away either. They thought themselves safe and secure in their high tower, so far away and above all the people they looked down upon. But Brandon and his Wolf’s Teeth were no ordinary skinchangers. Together, they had numbers the likes of which had not been seen since before the coming of the Andals, had pushed their gifts further than anyone had dared in millennia.
Dragonsreach would prove little obstacle to them, and the entire of House Targaryen was now in one place, ripe for the slaughter.
After three long weeks, they were finally ready to act. Everything was in place. They had spent their time wisely, infiltrating the city in small groups before slowly gathering their full force of thirty in a single chosen inn to coordinate their assault. They had scouted their targets, possessed various animals, rats, cats, dogs, horses, and the like. Their minds had made their way into the castle, temporarily bonding with and jumping from one beast to another until they had finally made it to the top of Dragonsreach and seized control of the pets of the Targaryen children themselves.
Perhaps when this was all over and his kin avenged, they might try and restore the Isle of Faces nearby, Brandon took a while to think to himself piously with a small trace of joy. The Hoares had desecrated that holy site, and the Targaryens had been no better. But there were no more Hoares and soon there would be no Targaryens.
With an eager smile, Brandon gave the order to his men and he watched as they all slipped into the minds of their prepared skins. Many of the more accomplished ones could even control multiple at the same time and they acted in unison with each other; their minds split between the animals they controlled and their human skins communicating to coordinate the assault. Hordes of rats came out of the woodworks, some making their way to strike while others opened windows and allowed their brethren in the minds of birds flying about the tower to enter.
Brandon himself and a few select others slipped into their skins then, the minds of the white raven, and the three cats and two dogs kept as pets by the six younger Targaryen children. Forming a bond forcibly with these animals and turning them against their owners without them noticing had not been a simple task, but the results were more than worth it. He found it deliciously deserved and ironic that these accursed dragonspawn would now meet their end at the hands of the pets they so loved.
The next thing Brandon knew, his consciousness was split. In the back of his mind, he was vaguely aware of his human body seated in a chair back at the inn in the town outside the castle, but the rest of his mind was here now, in the skin of a certain black cat.
He had thought to find himself near the second dragonspawn daughter, Rhaena, but to his immense glee he found that he was laid atop the comatose form of Valaena, one of the very same wretched Red Twins that had murdered his brother and nephews. With his cat eyes flickering to the side, his eagerness grew even more as he noticed that the male, Aerion, was here as well.
Brandon was vaguely aware of his human skin laughing back at the inn. The Red Twins had been last on the list for death today, for they had known well from their scouting that they were comatose and unable to defend themselves. But if the foolish Targaryen girl, Rhaena, had left him in the company of her elder siblings and given their heads to him on a silver platter, how could he not take the opportunity that had fallen into his lap?
His mind turning predatory and catlike from the influence of the skin he was currently wearing, Brandon stretched out his paws lazily, taking his time and savoring his vengeance as he stalked right up to the face of the girl who had taken so much from him. She and her twin had taken his brother from him, his nephews, and so many of his countrymen and brothers-in-arms.
And now at long last her destructive life would finally come to an end.
Brandon released his claws and bared his teeth, ready to rip out her throat when his body froze. A conflicted feeling ran through his mind. Why was he doing this? This girl was good to her; this girl’s scent was familiar to her. This girl was the littermate of her human, had always been kind to her, had fed her treats and showered her with petting and rubs. This girl had given her to her human when she had left her mother and been small. So why?
He roared. Trying to take back control. The cat’s puny mind was fighting back against him??? How was this even possible? A mere little house cat dared to challenge him, the greatest skinchanger in centuries?
He brought all his power to bear, his human skin forgotten entirely as he focused his attention on crushing this pathetic little cat and breaking its will once and for all. The cat’s body hissed and writhed atop Valaena Targaryen as two minds wrestled for influence. In his eagerness for vengeance, Brandon had forgotten that skinchanging went both ways and turning pets upon their beloved owners was far easier said than done. But he was still the greater mind of the two, the stronger will, and just as he was about to retake full control and end the wretched dragonspawn’s existence, he felt something wrap around his neck and lift him up into the air.
All of the cat’s resistance faded away like it had never been there, both minds were now in unison, fighting for self-preservation as the hand around their throat continued to squeeze. They hissed and growled, turning their head around to see the face of the accursed Aerion Targaryen, dazed and groggy as he recently awoken somehow, but filled with a terrifying purpose and a rageful gleam in his eyes. The cat felt betrayed that the brother of her human would harm her like this while Brandon felt only rage and hatred.
As one, they turned their claws upon his arms furiously, reopening three-week old wounds with satisfying lines of blood before they bit down hard upon his hand. The boy screamed in pain but refused to let go. His hands and body were weak from weeks of wastage, but still strong enough to hold on and fight back.
Soon Aerion’s grip around their throat tightened and they started struggling to breathe as he started bashing their head into the floor, over and over and over again. Brandon should have left, should have abandoned this stupid cat to its death, but his mind was fully caught up in the creature’s self-preservation instincts and desperate fight for survival.
They continued biting and clawing at Aerion desperately but soon the disorientation and lack of air started getting to them, weakening their ability to fight back as Aerion kept pounding them into the floor, smashing their head against the floor with a tightening grip on their neck while he punched their body with the other hand, breaking bones and bruising flesh. The grip on their neck tightened and tightened until they strangled to death.
Brandon screamed. His head hurt and he couldn’t see, he couldn’t breathe. His bones cracked and broke and his whole body burst into pain as he felt the brusiing impact of a hundred punches. When he next opened his eyes, he was back, wholly in his human skin, but he was dazed and confused, barely able to understand what was going on as the men around him screamed.
For the second time in three weeks, he had experienced the pain of death. He could feel the fragile pieces of his mind struggling to piece themselves back together as he almost suffocated in his perfectly healthy human body, his mind still thinking its body was broken and strangled.
Vaguely he realized that his men were experiencing death as well in the bodies of their animals but his mind just wouldn’t work. Even the door was thrown open and someone started shaking him, Brandon didn’t respond until they slapped him as hard as they could.
The pain centered him. Brandon snapped back to himself just in time to hear, “We have to leave!”
“Wha-what’s going on?” he asked, slurring his words.
“The Targaryen guards are here! We have to leave now!” one of the Wolf’s Teeth that had been deployed as a lookout shouted.
Brandon rushed to his feet as fast as he could, struggling not to fall over with his mind still so disorientated and dazed. They did their best to pull some of their incapacitated and screaming brethren to their feet as well but when the guards’ footsteps thudded on the stairs loudly as they charged up, Brandon knew there was no time left.
He drew his sword and charged out with those of his men that were still in good shape. To his relief he found most of his Wolf’s Teeth from the other rooms in the hallway of the inn’s second floor already waiting for him. Ahead of them however the Targaryen guards drew closer, some wearing plain black surcoats with the red three-headed dragon and others the signature black scale plate and gold cloaks of the Dragonguard themselves.
While some of his Wolf’s Teeth confronted the Dragonguard and were cut down with brutal efficiency within moments for their trouble, Brandon desperately searched for a way out before he opened the shutters at the end of the corridor and found the jump was… not ideal but better than nothing. Quickly he cut into the shutters with his sword enough to weaken them before sheathing, calling his men, and taking the plunge.
He rolled as he landed on the hard concrete of the road to try and soften the blow but he was still left winded and breathless as he struggled to get to his feet. Some of his Wolf’s Teeth broke their legs or injured themselves in some other way as they fell and Brandon had no choice but to give the order to abandon them as arrows started whizzing down the street from dark alleys and rooftops.
Shadowy cowled figures in the night rained arrows down upon them with a terrifying accuracy Brandon hadn’t thought possible outside his unit. They had to be the Targaryens’ Rangers, there was no other explanation.
He ducked desperately as some of his men fell victim to the arrows coming out from the darkness and led those still with him to the stables where they overpowered the guards that had been set to watch their horses and mounted them. They took off into a furious gallop across the streets, pursuers hot on their tail even as the arrows continued to fly.
Brandon didn’t dare try and count how many of his men he had left. He didn’t even have time to truly consider it.
In his fractured mind, he reached out to his last remaining bond and called upon him for help. Somewhere in the fields and woods outside this city, Shadow and all the other wolves and dogs bonded to his company were running free. He felt the slightest glimmer of hope as Shadow answered his call, a series of howls resounding in the night.
They were fortunate that the city walls of Summerhall hadn’t even started construction yet, for if they had been complete and the gates closed, their chances of escape would have been slim to none.
As they cleared the last under-construction buildings of the city, the hail of arrows resumed in full as the pursuing Rangers had closed the gap between them and no longer had any smallfolk to worry about hitting. The guards beside them continued galloping at full speed, intent on running them down.
More and more of his Wolf’s Teeth started falling to the Rangers, their tired and fractured minds incapable of focusing on both riding and shooting back with their bows.
The situation seemed hopeless when at last, Shadow came, right in the nick of time. Him and his pack charged right into their pursuers, dragging them off their horses and tearing them limb from limb. The volleys of arrows stopped immediately and the pursuit halted. Yet Brandon could not bring himself to rejoice.
Because the entirety of Summerhall had been roused. And as more and more of the enemy’s soldiers poured out of the city to encircle his direwolf’s pack and encircle them, Brandon knew that they were sacrificing their lives so that he and his men could escape.
Many of his fellow skinchangers were despondent as they rode onwards, sensing as their dogs and wolves were felled by the blades and arrows of the Targaryens’ lackeys. Brandon himself felt it when his direwolf, his last remaining bond was slain. He felt the blade going through his heart as it if had been stabbed right through his own.
A part of him died with his wolf. Just as one had with Ebony, and another even with the cat that had been destroyed in the tower. The more times he died in another skin, the more times another bonded animal of his was killed, the more pieces of himself Brandon lost.
Yet what hurt the most was knowing that it was for nothing. They had failed. The accursed house of the dragon still lived, and Brandon shuddered to think on what their wroth would be now.
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Author’s Note: Hey guys! Y’all were really despondent after that recent cliffhanger in 19 so I wrote up 20 real quick as a treat. It also kinda happens to have a cliffhanger but semantics. Guess y’all know now why it’s titled ‘Innocence Lost’ lel. Deffo a follow up to the foreshadowing last chapter!
Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Please lmk what you think of how I set up the attack in Summerhall and how it all went down. And if you have any concerns about how Aegon etc should have known or anticipated this, fret not for I am aware and have thought long and hard on the topic. Your questions should all be addressed in Chapter 21: The Dragon’s Wroth!
Let me know your thoughts, suggestions, and questions in the comments below or over on Discord! https://discord.com/invite/NSEwuzpcWm
Comments
Tertius711
Definitely stay tuned indeed to see what shall happen to House Stark and Dorne! Dorne's first thoughts on the war were given in Ch13, some of their actions have been shown in this chapter already, and in Ch22 we will get another Meria Martell POV!
Lightisyhepathtosark
May yhe Gods have mercy on House Stark, for the Targaryen will have none for them. This make me curious on what Aegon will do to Dorne, also what is Dorne reaction to this War?
Kyle Pemberton
Yeah he should be aware of the possibility of skinchangers. Especially with the way the eldest kids were attacked.
Tertius711
It is very sad indeed. We can only imagine how traumatizing it would be for children to be attacked and almost killed by their own pets. We shall see about the fluff :)
abdacom3015
Quite sad what happens in this chapter. The poor children being attacked by their pets, their friends and companions. This is gonna leave them with a lot of trauma. They need lots of fluff right now. All the fluff.
Odysseus
Feel like Aegon could’ve been a bit more prepared for this, but even still great chapter! I hope Brandon lives to see the starks executed and erased from history along with the rest foolish north. Better go full roman republic genocide on them!
Tertius711
Wdyt of the chapter? As for Skinchanging, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. There shall be no sullying the blood and interbreeding with First Men. However, there may be other ways to bring it in that I am ruminating now. Hoare only cut down the weirwoods in the Riverlands. The rest of the south still has loads of them.
Tertius711
Serious scars indeed. Imagine your own pet trying to kill you. Tis heartbreaking. Exactly why I did it lol. Scorch is coming XD.
Tertius711
Be careful what you wish for 😅. Tbf tho this chapter is much less Tina cliffhanger compared to the previous one no? Stay tuned! Wdyt of this chapter in particular?
Tertius711
The Dragon’s Wroth commences! Wdyt of the chapter?
Tertius711
Why warn them :)
Tertius711
Having competent antagonists makes their comeuppance all the better when it finally comes to:)
Tertius711
So bloodthirsty 😆. Guess this chapter really raised your ire eh? Stay tuned for what happens next!
Tertius711
Time to get raided on Spacebattles again 🤣🤣🤣. In all seriousness deffo stay tuned to see how the Dragon’s Wroth plays out! Wdyt of this chapter? Did you like it?
Mustafa Farah
You went from one cliffhanger to another lol 😂! Great chapter tho loved it man! Can’t wait for the next one
Zenokya
That is gonna leave some scars, both physical and emotional. Poor kids. The north is about to go from Winter is coming to scorch is coming.
Kinggn
good chapter as always. after reading the comments of arcturus, wilder and nikita i think they have raised an important topic. Skin changing and greenseering. Because of Hoare heresy (shoutout to 40k) in this timeline, the weirwood are all gone south of the neck and if I'm correct Aegon himself stated that he will not restore them because of the wired abilities surrounding them which leaves us with skin changing or warging. I personally feel that it is too good of a tool/ability to just let it get wasted, I don't think Aegon and Visenya for that matter would waste the opportunity for House Targaryen to acquire warging abilities and let's not forget that warging is not exclusive to just Starks and the North, one of the most famous warg was Lord Bloodraven and he got his ability from his mother's side of the family i.e. Blackwoods and just like wilder have said beyond the wall there are countless wargs roming the frozen wasteland. so the logical conclusion is that Aegon should do to the Starks what the Starks had done to their enemies for millenniums destroy the house and aquire their properties and abilities.
AJ
Welp Westeros will know the wrath of the dragons and the north will have House Targaryen worst
Wilder
I would rather recruit the children and raise them loyal to the royal family, then make there own spy organization, skin changers are too valuable a resource to just kill off and unless, he goes beyond the wall to kill every freeman then just killing the northerners wouldn’t work. Also I get he could kill them all for revenge but I think if he is pragmatic enough to let his young children join the war then he is also smart enough to at least not kill the young children and make them work for him
TwoJacksAndAnAce
Aegon should send a raven to Winterfell saying only “Your line will end”
Peter
It’s nice to see competent antagonists even if the consequences will be much worse than simply kneeling
BaldRhaegar
Burn their castles, kill their men, slave the children and salt their lands
Sukhraj Singh
Its over for the North. Its genocide now. The Dragon's Wroth will be terrible and without mercy Hell will come for The North.. The Northerners will not be allowed to live or survive.
Arcturus
As said good boy Aerys "Burn them all!" Such actions should be trigger to annihilation every skinchanger in both sides of the Wall(doesn't matter who is she/he, what age or social position), maybe even all First Men in general as they have it in their DNA. It's too dangerous to left even one of them alive Aegon to Starks: You awoke dragon, bitches... Left only a few of them to add such magic traits to royal blood and only. Because it's really powerful force, just imagine dragonrider with skinchanger force
