[Chapter Size: 2700 Words.]
Third Person POV.
Winterfell.
...
...
The sound of hammers echoed through the small forge where Mikken used to work, inside the castle.
"You seem busy."
Gendry heard the voice beside him and stopped hammering, losing his concentration.
He turned his face toward the person and normally would have been irritated by anyone interrupting him while he was forging that sword, but upon recognizing who stood beside him, he immediately went pale.
"Your Majesty..." he said, stammering as he bowed.
"Rise," Daemon merely requested.
The boy nodded and stood up while Daemon stared at him for a few seconds.
"You seem to be handling Winterfell well. I heard my cousin Arya comes here every day."
He looked at Daemon expecting some hostility or reprimand, but Daemon did not seem to care. He simply stared at the boy and gave a faint smile.
"And if that is a problem..." Gendry still tried to speak, but Daemon raised his hand.
"Not at all. Your relationship with my cousin has nothing to do with me, boy. I am sure her mother would have something to say, but that is not how things work with us. I do not think my uncle or Robb would be against you talking to her or her coming here either."
He hummed while picking up a few pieces. But Daemon's words were not relaxed at all in the next moment.
"But of course, if you ever try to force something on her... Perhaps I should remove your soul..." His voice echoed with Thu'um, and the very space itself began to change, becoming far colder.
Gendry started trembling at those words.
"My king..." He tried to speak, but was unable to, paralyzed under the pressure created by Daemon. His hammer fell onto the floor, but that was the least of his concerns here.
Daemon turned to Gendry with a mischievous smile.
"Hey, I was only joking... Don't be so tense, I am sure you would never do anything like that." He replied.
'The threat still stands...' was all Gendry could think.
"Y-Yes, Your Majesty!" he stammered fearfully.
Daemon turned his attention back to the workshop. In truth, he had no intention of visiting the boy; he had only come to pick up a few pieces he needed for a personal project.
Daemon had saved this boy from Stannis's red priestess when she tried to capture him after all the chaos he had caused and the execution of his uncle in King's Landing, while Yoren was heading North with a group of Night's Watch recruits.
Most of them were children who had fled the chaos of King's Landing, and Gendry was one of them, since he was the king's bastard. The Lannisters found him, as they were hunting Robert's bastard children, while Daemon was there as well, and then Stannis's red witch arrived soon after. Daemon managed to deal with both groups while helping Yoren and, in the process, prevented the Red Witch from taking him.
Afterward, he killed the Faceless Man hired to assassinate him at that moment and stole his soul. That was what started the agreement he made with the House of Black and White, the Faceless Men, and the Many-Faced God.
Daemon was attacked later by the red woman, Melisandre, when she tried to send that shadow against him in the middle of his ascension speech in the hall of Winterfell, with the lords of the North listening to him about his southern campaign and why the North should fight for him.
Obviously, he dealt with her easily afterward and simply turned her into a popsicle.
But a few days later, Gendry appeared alongside Yoren, finally arriving from the South, since they had needed to hide from the war. Yoren brought people seeking the Night's Watch because of the wars.
Arya informed Jon and even her father about her friend and asked if he could stay in Winterfell. Gendry even wanted to take part in the war, but Daemon said the boy did not need to serve the Watch or return south. He could be a blacksmith in Winterfell.
So ever since then, he had been working in Winterfell through the past moons, slowly gaining a certain respect from everyone by forging many frostfire weapons, which had been extracted from the mountains of Skagos during the last moons for the battle against the dead.
Gendry held a great deal of respect for Daemon. After all, the man had saved him, and it was a life debt he could not deny so easily.
"I'll take these pieces, alright?" Daemon no longer spoke in a threatening tone, merely saying it while picking up a few rings stored in some boxes around the forge.
"That is fine, Your Majesty," said Gendry, still somewhat reluctant as he picked up the hammer from the floor.
"There is something I would like to ask of you. I want to build saddles for my dragons. You must have seen them already..."
"Hard not to notice those three creatures, Your Majesty," he said carefully.
Daemon snorted.
"Can you make this?"
Daemon pulled a sheet of paper out of nowhere, appearing in his hand, and placed it before Gendry. He opened it. There was a perfect drawing of the measurements around the dragons, which Daemon had managed to create using alteration magic.
His spell accurately provided numbers and distances for the belts that would hold the saddle, and he wanted to create springs to make the seat itself more comfortable, without that immediate impact whenever making turns in the air. Surely that was horrible, not only for him, but also for whoever was riding.
There were saddle designs for all three dragons.
"Your Majesty, this could not be done alone," he admitted. "A structure of this size..."
"You are focusing too much on the whole thing. I only want you to create these objects for the saddle seat," he said, pointing at the springs and a few other objects and clasps that would work like a safety belt.
Daemon obviously feared a little for Daenerys's safety. He hoped that would help her remain atop the dragon.
Gendry nodded.
"If you wish, it will be done later," he said.
"Excellent. I will leave the rest to you. The leather and the rest of the belts are already being made in King's Landing."
After that, Daemon left the forge of Winterfell and placed a cloak over his face, moving through the city unnoticed while using his invisibility abilities.
He returned to Winterfell after requesting that everyone be gathered for a farewell. He would be departing for the Wall.
Saying goodbye to each of them and giving instructions, he finally went to his dragons.
"When will I see you again?" his wife asked.
"I will try to stop by here after leaving Braavos, alright?" he said, while she nodded, sealing the farewell with a kiss.
This time, he mounted Viridrax while the dragon shot into the sky, with Winter following alongside. Daenerys remained beside the black dragon, watching them depart.
It took several hours, but it was already midafternoon when the dragons finally reached the Gift. Daemon could not help but feel impressed by the small town the ironborn were building.
There were still fifty thousand people from the North remaining there, while the other hundred and thirty thousand had departed south to help Daemon.
The dragons passed overhead, drawing everyone's attention as they continued northward without paying much attention to the town.
They were only one or two days away from the Wall. Certainly, the news that an unknown dragon had landed at the Wall must have already reached the settlement, especially since there were many members of the free folk also guarding the Wall due to the great number of men from Houses Umber and Bolton brought by Daemon for the war.
After all, they had been forced to stay there.
Daemon could see Odahviing perched upon the Wall as he raised his gaze and watched Daemon arrive. The dragon Daemon rode answered with a roar, drawing the attention of Castle Black as it advanced forward, landing amidst the snow outside the castle while a light breeze of tiny snowflakes still drifted from the sky across that land in the farthest north.
Daemon's existence no longer mattered. He walked toward the castle, which opened for him. There stood Jeor Mormont, his uncle Benjen, and other members of the Watch. Even Yoren was with them. Maester Aemon stood at one of the windows looking at him. Daemon could not ask the old man to come downstairs, even though he had prepared some herbal medicines for his distant relative so he could live a few more years.
"Your Majesty..." the Lord Commander spoke. The newer recruits certainly looked at him cautiously and even with poorly concealed anger.
He was the man who had conquered the North, the Iron Islands, and placed the Boltons and the ironborn there. There was a great deal of hatred directed toward Daemon.
But Daemon did not care. He merely displayed a carefree smile.
"Greetings, everyone. Lord Commander, Uncle Benjen, and the rest of you," he said while they were already kneeling.
Even the men upon the Wall did the same. If any of them objected to doing so, the dragons certainly served as convincing enough persuasion.
After all, there was the dragon that had arrived a few days earlier and these two others that had come together with the king.
Now, Daemon did not possess only the white dragon everyone there already knew, since he had conquered most of them with that white dragon. Now he possessed, besides the white dragon, a green dragon and that unknown dragon capable of speaking the human tongue that was perched atop the Wall.
How could anyone deal with someone like that? They could only kneel before such power.
"Rise. We can go inside and talk," Daemon ordered, while everyone adjusted themselves once more.
They then headed into the castle. Benjen turned his attention toward Daemon.
"And these new dragons? And the war?" Benjen asked.
Uncle Benjen had no idea what had happened in the South yet. Unlike Winterfell, which still had Bran to report events almost in real time, the Wall was far too distant and lacked powerful Warg communication methods.
"If I told you the war is over, would you believe me?" Daemon joked while Benjen raised an eyebrow.
"Really? The last news I heard mentioned an Aegon Targaryen, supposedly your brother, raising an army to attack you."
News took several days to arrive, since Bran made a point of informing his uncle about events. After all, it was not only Daemon as king; Ned and Robb were involved in the conquest as well.
"It is already over. It lasted only a single battle," Daemon shrugged. "We had our battle outside King's Landing. I dealt with the one claiming to be Aegon, my brother, but he was a Blackfyre trying to seize the crown through that loophole."
"Bran mentioned something about that..." Benjen murmured as they entered Castle Black and advanced toward a room where they would speak.
"How are things here? I imagine it has not been easy at all," Daemon asked the Lord Commander. Only the three of them were present.
"You sent thousands of those men here. All of them scowling and wanting to betray us, merely waiting for the first opportunity to stick a knife into someone and flee," he grumbled. "So you can imagine our situation."
"Well, that sounds wonderful," Daemon replied sarcastically. "Would you care for some wine?"
He asked while pulling out a bottle of Arbor Gold and placing it upon the table alongside several cups. All the pieces from King's Landing were slowly being crafted from gold, used by the Lannisters.
They were already accustomed to Daemon's powers, but they still remained somewhat cautious.
"I know we have much to discuss. I think you will need it," Daemon said.
Benjen hesitated slightly, but finally picked up a cup and filled it with the liquid. The Lord Commander did the same.
"I found your son, Jorah Mormont, Lord Commander..." Daemon said.
Jeor stared at him with a tense expression. Daemon's tone already said everything. It was obvious and dry. Whenever Daemon spoke that way, it meant someone had died.
"How did he die?" was all Jeor managed to ask.
Even the atmosphere became somewhat tense after that.
"He died defending his king, or so he believed. He tried to stop my advance against the Blackfyre. Well... I can be quite honest with you. I could have spared him, but the moment he handed Viserys over to Robert... no matter how disgusted I was with that man and, honestly, how many times I wanted to beat him senseless, he was still my relative. Daenerys's relative, my queen. Viserys still carried royal blood. I could not allow him to live."
Daemon was honest. He was speaking directly to that man because he had killed his son.
Jeor merely closed his eyes as though feeling a silent pain. And he truly was.
"But he died seeking salvation. Someone saw that in him... Saw that he would be ideal for their cause... And Jorah knew he would die, yet he accepted the fight."
"Can you tell me why he was involved in all of this?" Jeor asked.
"Honestly? He was valued for his abilities, but in the end, he became nothing more than a political piece in one of Varys's schemes, who was a Blackfyre, by the way. He saw a man seeking redemption, and Varys found in him a way to make him loyal to his causes. Your son was molded for all of this and knew nothing about it... Or perhaps he did, I do not know. But if it offers you any comfort, he fought bravely."
Jeor took a deep breath.
"Very well... I can live with that," he said, despite clearly being saddened.
Daemon knew Jorah was a lost cause. When he received the royal pardon, he had even felt happy about it, but he had not liked the reason behind it at all.
King Robert might have made that knight a knight once more, but he had betrayed his own employer, acting as a mercenary in Essos. The North did not accept that very well, so much so that he did not even attempt to fight for the North when the army marched south.
Daemon would not accept it either, especially with Viserys having been killed because of him.
Not that Jon had wanted to save Viserys or anything like that. He had left him abandoned in Essos and expected him to die, but he did not like the way he died. Anyone would eventually grow tired of constantly hearing Viserys's outbursts and fits of rage and would likely end up striking him down with a sword at some point.
Daemon was only fulfilling his duty as a member of House Targaryen: killing the one responsible for giving an unjust death to someone from his family. Even if Viserys was worth more dead than alive... After what he had seen in Illyrio's mansion, it was obvious he knew that type of person. He had already killed a few nobles like that in Tamriel.
"Now let us talk about your dragon."
The Lord Commander had emptied an entire cup in a single gulp before setting it down and looking at Daemon with a demanding expression.
"Of course. I imagine you are already quite familiar with Odahviing. He must not stay very quiet."
"Not really," Jon replied. "He just stays there, staring northward. He only leaves for a few hours to hunt, but he remains atop the Wall... as if he is waiting for something. When he speaks to the men, it is only to tell them not to bother him. The Night's Watch is terrified, even though he has done nothing these past few days."
Daemon laughed at that.
"Well, do not worry about him. As long as nobody bothers him, he will not devour anyone, as he says..."
"Anyway, let us begin discussing the arrival of the southern armies. I intend to place at least two hundred thousand men in the fight against the dead," Daemon said.
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