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Chapter 52 - Dragonbinder
🕑 Added 2025-10-09 23:04:49 +0000 UTCWinterfell
It had taken Robert, his small host of giants, the Children of the Forest, several females, and Sandor a week to reach Winterfell. Following the breakdown of the relations between House Stark and House Baratheon, it would be unthinkable for a Baratheon to be in Winterfell, unless it was for royal reasons.
Or to display the Other to the Starks.
“Rick, old man, how is it going?” Robert asked. Obelisk was perched on top of the walls, and he looked down at the Lord of Winterfell with an amused expression, chin resting on his palm.
“It is Lord Rickard, and none of your business. Why have you disturbed our peace?” Rickard Stark’s gaze was frosty, a feature he shared with his second son.
Robert had arrived barely an hour after Domeric Bolton had given his oath as the new lord of Dreadfort.
Seeing him so displeased only made Robert grin. “Sheesh, someone’s prickly.”
“You have insulted my authority as the Lord of Winterfell by carrying out your justice on my vassal.”
Robert gave him a blank stare. “That? Come on, I did you a favor. I mean, do you even know what Roose was going to do to your grandson, Cregan?” Since Eddard wasn’t the Lord of Winterfell and their relationship had fallen apart, Brandon Stark had named his firstborn son Cregan, a classic, well known Stark name.
“What?” The Boltons had rebelled before and were always unruly vassals, but an uprising when a daughter of House Stark was the queen of the Seven Kingdoms would be the height of foolishness.
“Stab him in the heart during a wedding, have his wolf’s head sewn on his body, and parade him around.” Robert described a small but perhaps the most visceral part of the Red Wedding, not that it would happen in this life.
At least, not anymore.
Rickard may be wary of House Bolton, or just Roose Bolton himself, but admitting there was a chance his vassal would rebel was a sign of weakness, not something he would admit to. “You lie.”
“Yes, because I definitely need to justify myself to anyone.” Robert understood why Rickard would refuse to believe him, and he wasn’t interested in debating it.
Taking a deep breath to cool his fiery rage-- which was something only Robert Baratheon managed to bring out—Rickard asked through gritted teeth. “Why are you here?”
“I wanted to show you something, but I am not sure if I should. Your attitude puts me off.” Robert shook his head, playing coy.
“I have no interest in your games.”
Robert thought about it for a second before shrugging. “Alright, you can hear it from the Night’s Watch then.” He was about to order Obelisk to take off, but Brandon Stark, who was watching him silently, intervened. “Wait, hear what?”
“That I caught a White Walker beyond the Wall.” The Father of Dragons admitted to the shock of the residents of Winterfell. Rickard and Brandon were taken back, the guards looked even more tense, and Catelyn Tully, who was watching them from the door, prayed.
“Horseshit.” Brandon scoffed, but the heir to Winterfell looked doubtful of himself. Robert wasn’t the type to lie, not so brazenly.
“I am sure Jeor Mormont already sent a letter to you.” Or he would come himself personally, but that was difficult with half his brothers considering mutiny.
“Wait, wait.” Rickard stopped him, his pride as a Stark and duty as the Warden of the North clashing, but ultimately he knew what must be done.
“Hmm?”
“I will see what you have captured.” Rickard didn’t believe Robert’s dreams, or rather, the idea of believing them was terrifying, but if he had gone all the way beyond the Wall and came back claiming to have captured one of the Others, then it at least required hearing.
Robert crossed his arms, turned his head, and said, “No.”
“No?” Rickard narrowed his eyes, trying to contain the anger in him.
Still not looking at the Lord of Winterfell, Robert enjoyed his pettiness. “You have been rude to me. I won’t do anything without an apology.”
But he lost it upon hearing Robert’s demand. “An apology?!”
The Father of Dragons nodded, and Rickard took more deep breaths before apologizing, each second agony to him. “I apologize for my conduct. It was not befitting of the men of our station.”
“I graciously accept.” Robert grinned and took off on Obelisk.
—
“Gods be good.” A guard screamed rather femininely, but it was ignored due to the fact that there was a giant, a creature of myth and fairytales, approaching the gate of Winterfell.
When coming face-to-face with the unknown, the Stark men responded by pulling their weapons, frightened whether a fight would break out or not.
Lord Stark had to order them to stand down before someone did something stupid.
“Don’t worry, just me and Wun Weg Wun will come in. I am sure your men are scared enough.” It wasn’t the giant himself that scared them so, but the fact that if Robert had giants with him, the chances that the Night King and the Others were real increased.
“How did you convince the giants to join you?” This Wun Weg Wun wasn’t the only one either, as a great number stood well within sight from the walls of the ancient keep, waiting, and Rickard could not imagine how Robert had managed to subdue them.
“I knocked him out with a punch and offered them a better life beyond the Wall.”
“Impossible.” Brandon, for all his skill and bravado, couldn’t even imagine fighting a giant, who was twice his height and looked strong enough to crush him to a pulp.
Robert winked at Brandon before turning to the giant, who had stopped after “Wun Weg, who is stronger, me or you?”
“You.” The giant grunted, barely following the conversation. He didn’t care what the other humans were saying.
“There you go.”
“Alright, drop her.” Robert motioned with his hand, and Wun Weg let go of the sled.
“Her?” Gods damn it, had the madman actually caught a White Walker?
“Turns out they have females too. Who knew?” Robert pried the weirwood branches aside and revealed the Other to the world once again.
Gasps filled the courtyard as the tense guards were on the edge again.
“Seven preserve me.” Caitlyn Stark said before fainting.
“Hey, wake your frosty ass up.” Robert kicked the Other in the face, and Brandon jumped back, expecting something terrible to happen.
The creature’s eyes snapped open, and Rickard was shocked by just how much it resembled a human. “You will pay for this humiliation.” She glared at Robert, who snorted.
“Who is going to make me, you?
The Other fell silent, averting her eyes.
Robert’s boot came down on her face.
“Here you go, one White Walker, the real reason why the Wall was built in the first place.”
Rickard gave him a withering glare, suddenly looking very tired as all the fight was taken out of him.
—
He didn’t stay long after showing the Other to the Starks. There was still distance to cover, and with the ground host, it was taking longer than usual, as Robert had to escort them to avoid any potential trouble and buy supplies since they did move out in a hurry. He considered loading them onto ships and sailing to Asgard, but the immense size of the giants, coupled with their mammoths, made it difficult to implement without extremely large ships.
So Robert resorted to the slow way.
—
Asgard
The Ironborn fleet was growing closer each second and did not seem to have any intention of returning. Citizens had been moved inside Valhalla, with as many supplies as they could carry, and guards were waiting on the walls to resist the Ironborn.
It didn’t seem to be necessary after all.
“My lord, look.”
The squids were approaching from the southeast, but to their misfortune, the Asgardian ships that were docked at Valyria were returning, with Ra in the sky, acting as their guard.
Seeing hundreds of vessels approach his home, Ra increased his speed and soon enough gained on the Ironborn fleet.
“Haha!” Tyrion laughed as the dragon unleashed his enormous, scorching flames, setting the flank of the enemy fleet on fire. The golden dragon soared over the fleet, with ships sinking every second and reavers dying in droves.
His joy was short-lived as the dragon stopped, and while Tyrion couldn’t hear him from this distance, he could see that Ra was distressed. The dragon swerved as if dazed and left the fleet be, straining to fly, tilting to the sides randomly. Ra barely reached the docks before his wings gave out and he fell.
“Oh.”
“Lord Tyrion, there!” Captain Moran pointed away from the enemy fleet, and Tyrion turned his far-seeing eye and sighed in relief.
“Gods, this has to be our lucky day.” Because from the North, Slifer was coming, fast, and slammed to the stone ground, running to his downed brother. Whatever happened there, the crimson dragon took off again to finish what the golden brother had started.
Tyrion only hoped whatever the Ironborn did to Ra, they wouldn’t be able to repeat it. From the way the Ironborn scrambled to reverse course, it seemed to be a one-use weapon, and they paid the price for it.
—
The Ironborn Fleet
The Silence
“No, no! Blow the damn horn again, now.” Euron ordered the next crewmember, as Cragorn had died after using the horn.
The tongueless man did as he was ordered, but no sound came out of the dragon binder, and the crewman did not burn like the other had.
The fucking thing was not working properly. It had not even brought the first dragon under his control, merely weakened it, and a second one was approaching them now.
“Turn around!” Euron screamed. He would not die, not here, not today, but the dragon was too fast. Scowling, Euron Greyjoy did something he never would have thought.
He abandoned ship.
—
The Ironborn were pushed back, with more than half their ships sunk, but Slifer had abandoned chase, returning to his brother’s side, who was lying on the ground, with dark red squiggly lines covering his wings.
Whatever the Ironborn had done, it had grounded the dragon.
Tyrion and Davos, as the ones in charge, approached the dragons. Slifer let out a growl of warning, and the two stopped, but the crimson beast knew they were friendly and let them closer.
Ra groaned in pain, a sound that even in his magically subdued condition—because Tyrion did not think these were wounds caused by an ordinary weapon—was a deep rumble that shook the air.
“What could have done this?” Davos feared touching the dragon, his distaste for magic clear.
“Perhaps one of those dragon binders?” Tyrion knew they had one deep in the vaults, but not what it would do once blown.
“We need to move him somewhere out of the way.” Davos suggested. Anyone with ill intentions may send a brave fool to slay the dragon while it is down, and the actual problem would begin then.
“Indeed.” Tyrion turned to the captain of the guards. “Have the people return to their stations. The danger is over, and we have work to do.”
—
One Week Later
The Ironborn, who had somehow received the knowledge of Robert Baratheon’s and, more importantly, the dragons’ absence, had launched an attack on Asgard but were thwarted by the timely arrival of the very beasts they had feared in the first place. What remained of their fleet was in shambles, but King Rhaegar had a more important question in mind.
“It takes five days for a letter to reach Pyke from King’s Landing, which means they knew Robert was gone days after he left with his dragons and prepared their invasion. Lord Varys, tell me, how is that possible?” Rhaegar asked his Master of Whispers. Weeks ago, Bloodraven had warned him that their connection might be over if Robert succeeds, and he had not heard from him ever since. Stuck in his room to search for a way to reach Brynden, Rhaegar had only left when news of the Ironborn attack came, followed by Lord Rickard’s letter.
“My apologies, Your Grace, but my birds could not act following the events during Stannis Baratheon’s wedding.” Varys excused himself.
Rhaegar just squinted his eyes. The eunuch was proving to be less and less useful each day, and the King of the Seven Kingdoms was considering replacing him.
“What about the Reach and the Westerlands? How come neither sent any letters or riders warning us of the Ironborn fleet?” Wyman asked. His lands did not face the Ironborn threat like the rest of his fellow Northern lords and the western coast of Westeros had, but that did not mean he didn’t keep himself abreast of their whereabouts.
Mace looked uncomfortable. A fleet numbering five hundred ships was not something easily missed, yet they had. “They sailed away from the coast, and while House Florent caught movement of the fleet and sent letters, their ravens were lost.”
“Someone from Reach stopped them.” Tywin reasoned. Reach as a whole did not have any disputes with Robert except as part of their alliance with the Crown, and none of the houses should have any personal reasons to shoot down ravens heading to Asgard.
“Most likely.” Mace murmured. He still didn’t know who was responsible for it.
“Why do we care what happens to Asgard?” Daeron scowled. He was getting tired of hearing Robert’s name come up almost every Small Council meeting, yet his grievances fell on deaf ears.
“We care,” Rhaegar waved the letter he was holding, “because of this.”
Lyanna, who had been a silent spectator so far, perked up at seeing the sigil on the envelope. “A letter from Winterfell? What do they say?”
“That Robert Baratheon captured a White Walker, alive, and took her to be kept as a trophy in Asgard.” Rhaegar’s grave tone as he revealed the contents of the letter, coupled with Robert’s warnings about the Night King and the White Walkers two years ago, silenced the room.
If the White Walkers were real, then their only means of salvation was Robert, the number one enemy of House Targaryen and its allies.
Daeron slammed his fist on the table, earning himself several glares. “Lord Stark must have lost his mind.”
“That is my father you are insulting.” Lyanna rose from her seat, glaring at her good-brother, who did not back down.
Rhaegar coughed pointedly, and both members of House Targaryen stood down, though they were still exchanging glares. “Rickard Stark is not so gullible as to fall for a simple trick, and that is not all.”
“What else does it say?” Tywin’s reaction to the news was less apparent than the rest of the council, but he guessed that it was most likely real.
Rickard was not a fool, as the king had said.
“Your Grace, I have more to say. Perhaps more believable than the White Walker, but Robert also convinced the giants to bend the knee and live in Asgard as his subjects. By our count, slightly more than five hundred of them are marching down south, with the Children of the Forest in tow.” Rhaegar read the relevant part, and even Varys dropped his ever-present innocent smile.
Rhaella put her face in her hands and groaned. “Why is it that whenever we hear news concerning Robert, it is something mind-boggling like this?”
“First a demon roosting in Valyria, now the White Walkers, giants, and the Children of the Forest? What is the world coming to?” Mace felt like slipping into his bed and never waking up again, all this talk of magic going against his beliefs.
“The White Walker, giants, and the Children of the Forest will be seen in Asgard if they are truly marching with Robert. We should worry about the Ironborn.” The Hand of the King too was getting tired of hearing Robert’s antics, but unlike Daeron, he understood the necessity.
“What is there to worry about? Robert will just kill them all.” Aegon finally chipped in. The revelations had shaken him as well, but unless Robert had an army of giants, they sounded like mere curiosities, not threats.
At least no more than his dragons.
“Because the number of people who knew Robert was leaving to the lands beyond the Wall and were close enough to send word to the Ironborn so quickly is limited. The guests at the wedding would not be among them.” This left them in a precarious position, and Tywin knew firsthand that Robert wasn’t afraid of using violence to get his way.
Rhaegar sank into his chair, rubbing his head. These days, just hearing Robert’s name made his head throb. “He will blame either one of the Stormlords close to us or the Crown directly.”
“We need to find the one responsible for it, and if not, a scapegoat.” Jon suggested their next course of action. He had already stolen that diary from Robert, and if the Father of Dragons suspected him for some reason, then Griffin’s Roost was in danger.
The rest of the Small Council’s daily work was like digging graves, silent and grim.
Comments
Fortunis
Fuck me. Robert is about to own some islands. If he decides to make advanced forges he'll have all the iron he needs for steel.
Nathaniel Chavez
It’ll be easy to figure out if Asgard was able to capture one of the important members of the Ironborn raiding party. Like the Operative from Serenity, “If your enemy goes to ground, leave no ground to go to…” The only thing people like this understand, is the ability to rain down total disaster upon all they love dear. If anything, it makes me wonder if the Citadel and her anti-magic Maesters have finally tried to play their hand? Will Robert of House Baratheon get to introduce to Westeros an ancient punishment to those who tried to destroy all he held dear? Will the Blood Eagle be the new standard for crimes like this?
Rachel N
Lmao my new favourite chapter!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
