Chương 19: The North in the South
The Narrow Sea; Crownlands; last week of the sixth moon of 98 AC
Ragnar PoV
The calm waters of the Narrow Sea hosted the small armada of 50 Northern ships, the sails mostly decorated with the silver dragon of House Dovahkiin and the mermen of House Manderlyn were a warning to pirates of all kinds, a warning that announced Death, should it be ignored. In the sky, three dragons flew above the vessels elegantly as they kept pace with the northern armada. Leading the fleet was the biggest ship ever seen in Westeros, the OldGods' Revenge, one of the most famous ships in the land despite only having a few voyages recorded, and only two of them to the south.
Ragnar observed the blues waters below him as the Revenge sailed calmly on the sea; the tall lord wore what many south of the neck would call northern summer clothes, a loose doublet with a leather breastplate on top of it and linen trousers with the characteristic north style. The Lord of Skagos had a pensive expression on his face when his musings were interrupted by his wife.
"What are you wondering about, my love?" Dacey asked with a playful smile on her face; her blue eyes stared deeply into his dark ones, making the Dragonborn smile despite his desire to keep his face stern. Ragnar's wife wore a silver sleeveless summer dress with white dragons embroidered on it; she looked beautiful under the summer sun, and to her husband's loving eyes, she was irresistible.
"Do you know how we know the ocean is friendly?" Ragnar asked mysteriously, his eyes left his wife's and rested on the waters below
"No, but I imagine it is due to the lack of pirates," Dacey replied inquisitively.
"No, the lack of pirates is because "we" are not friendly..." Ragnar replied, his eyes still on the sea. "We know the ocean is friendly because it waves," Ragnar concluded with a smile on his face.
"Oh, you," Dacey snorted at Ragnar's coarse jest.
"Oh, me," Ragnar said as he grabbed his wife and kissed her deeply, but it didn't last long as Frostwing decided to perch on the mast near them, making Lynara appear to take care of her dragonling.
"Cockblocked by a hatchling... such disrespect with the Overlord of dragons, with the defeater of Alduin," Ragnar mumbled in mock anger; he then turned his head at the small dragon and glared at it. The little dragon ignored the glare and focused on being petted by Lynara.
"Just one Yol... and you are no more..." Ragnar said, not loud enough for anyone other than Dacey, who laughed, to hear.
"Lynara, keep Frostwing close to you. We are near Dragonstone, and The Cannibal might be nearby…" Ragnar said to which his daughter acknowledged with a nod of her head. The Cannibal would probably lose in a fight with Snowstorm; that if it decided to stay and fight; however, Ragnar imagined if the dragon were to attack, it would just snatch Frostwing and bolt away from the biggest dragons in Westeros.
"Where are the twins, love?" Ragnar asked, his eyes roaming over the ship as if looking for his children
"They are both with Davos; he is teaching them how to sail…." Dacey answered with a wistful expression on her face.
"When will you give them a dragon egg?" Dacey asked
"Whenever I feel they are ready. Björn is almost ready to start his lessons on magic, but Lyanna will be a problem…." Ragnar began to explain, but when he saw Dacey's indignant face, he smiled. "I don't mean it like that… even though she's quiet, she has a great mind… I fear she will outshine Björn so much in magic that her dragon will hatch first due to the strength of her mind." Ragnar concluded
"So what will you do?" Dacey asked, her voice full of concern…
"Nothing, I'll just start their lessons when they are older than Lynara when I started hers… by that point, they'd have understood that in some things, some are better than others," Ragnar said, and Dacey nodded, getting closer and hugging her husband.
"That's good… But will we give dragons to whichever house Lyanna marries into?" Dacey asked with concern…
"Lyanna will not marry anyone… I'll kill any man who even tries… I'll trap his soul on a soul gem and use it to power a candlelight for when I take a shit at night," Ragnar said with a calm voice as if speaking about the weather; which made Dacey giggle and smack him playfully on the shoulder
"I'm serious, Ragnar… we can't simply give dragons to every house a daughter of House Dovahkiin marries into," Dacey said playfully, and Ragnar nodded.
"It will not happen… the future daughters of House Dovahkiin that already had a Dragon when they marry outside of the House will be allowed to keep their dragons, but their children will not," Ragnar said as he shook his head, the motion making his long braid dance behind him, "Lynara will be the only exemption…." Ragnar concluded, and Dacey nodded, but before she could say anything about her husband's decision, Lynara walked to them, Frostwing following behind her; the little dragon was bigger than a horse.
"Papa, I think Frostwing is ready to fly me…." Lynara began with uncertainty in her voice.
"She's big enough for you to ride her, but it would be uncomfortable for both of you. You will wait until she's at least six namedays old AND not a day sooner." Ragnar spoke, giving an extra edge to his voice at the end; however, when he saw the sad face of his daughter, he gave her a reassuring smile. "However, since you are such a responsible little girl, I will allow you to fly with me on Midstinul at least twice a fortnight…." Ragnar said as he scooped his daughter up and kissed her on her cheek; the girl giggled and nodded at her father's promise
"Aye, it's a deal, papa!" She said excitedly and kissed Ragnar back on the cheek.
"Now, Show your mother the latest magic you learned… I must say, as the Archmage of the College, you have me impressed, little dovah." Ragnar said, and much to his amusement, he saw Lynara go as red as a weirwood tree leaf. The little girl nodded comically, with all the seriousness of an eight-year-old child.
"Aye, papa." Lynara said as she turned to her mother, "Look, Mommy," Lynara said as her hand glowed purple for a moment, and then a conjuration circle appeared, and a ghostlike snowbear walked out of it.
"That's Lynara's familiar… a protector she can call anytime she wants," Ragnar said; the pride in his voice would be able to defeat Balerion, the black dread itself.
"Aye… a mighty bear! It only makes sense; she's my daughter, after all." Dacey boasted as she gave about a hundred kisses on her daughter's cheek, "That's an impressive companion, little dovah." Dacey praised her daughter, making the little girl blush even harder.
"Aye… it fits our little dovah too well," Ragnar commented, and Dacey nodded.
"Well, we should be arriving in Kingslanding in a couple of hours. Go and tell a servant to get your things ready." Ragnar said as he put his daughter on the ship's floor. The little girl nodded and ran away, her dragon following behind like an odd lizard.
"Lord Stark will want the Lords of the North with him when he presents himself at court. Although not an order from the King, it's expected that Lord Stark will have to explain the whole issue with the Maesters," Ragnar began as he grabbed a silver necklace from his pocket and gifted it to Dacey, "Once Lord Stark explains our reasons, we will be officially enemies of the Citadel and unofficial enemies of House Hightower… They don't fight fair, both the Citadel and the Hightowers. This necklace will warn you of any poison, will stop any poison, and will create a powerful barrier should someone try and harm you with a blade." Ragnar concluded calmly as Dacey silently turned her back to him and held her hair away from her neck, exposing the pale skin on her nape.
Ragnar carefully put the necklace on her neck and kissed her nape as he breathed on her scent.
"Huum… you're aging like wine, my love. If I thought you were beautiful when we married, now, I would gladly call you a goddess in human skin." Ragnar said with a smile, and Dacey smiled at her husband, not allowing herself to blush.
"Aye… but my beauty wasn't the only thing that improved as time passed. If I'm not mistaken, the last time we slept without sharing a bed more than three times on the same night was when you last visited Driftwood Hall three years ago." Dacey japed, and Ragnar chucked.
"Do you think the Citadel will try something?" Dacey asked after a few seconds of comfortable silence
"Aye… it's most likely so, perhaps not now, but someday perhaps… the maesters are the epitome of southern treachery; nasty little bastards," Ragnar commented with little heat on his voice, which caused Dacey to giggle despite the situation.
"What about Otto Hightower? What if he tries to push Alicent into Björn or tries to have Lyanna married to one of his sons?" Dacey asked, her tone clearly one of jesting as if the mere thought of saying such things were laughable.
"He will fail miserably in his quest if that's his objective. The world will end before the blood of the youngest son of Akatosh is mingled with their filthy blood," Ragnar affirmed with a steel-like voice.
"By the old gods… I knew you hated the Hightowers, but I didn't know you hated them to that extent." Dacey exclaimed, surprised at Ragnar's profound distaste for House Hightower; something Ragnar understood was he was generally a calm and reasonable person.
"They are trying to kill magic, my love. I run into dilemmas all the time." Ragnar began with a deep sith "Situations where it's hard to judge, hard to know what is right. This is not one of them. They disgust me, and they deserve to die. The Seven Gods of Andalos would have difficulty stopping me from planning their downfall. They will be humbled before they fall, however," Ragnar commented cooly, and Dacey nodded as she bit her bottom lip, apparently aroused by Ragnar's foul mood.
Kingslanding; Crownlands; Last week of the sixth moon of 98
Ragnar PoV:
Ragnar stood on the deck of the OldGods' Revenge, surveying the busy "port" of Kingslanding as the sailors bustled about preparing to dock the largest ship ever seen in Westeros. Gingerly, he summoned his great axe, Wuuthrad, and tied it to his back. This time House Dovahkiin had enemies in the South, sly enemies that would not attack him themselves but could send assassins, but assassins were men all the same and would think twice before striking at a man carrying a weapon of that kind.
Ragnar quietly reflected on what it took to manage such a massive vessel as he studied the teams of men hauling on ropes, lowering sails, and finally hoisting the gangway. His gaze roamed over mastresses that rose high into the sky, constructed of thick Ironwood beams riveted with iron rings. The tall, black sail with the Dovahkiin dragon fluttered in the wind as a smaller jib and staysail flew from the mast closest to the bow.
Beneath their feet rumbled the shuddering heartbeat of OldGods' Revenge's massive hold. It contained foodstuff to feed the ship's crew for months, weapons and armor for combat, and goods for trade. They had been at sea for a fortnight, and the sailors were as eager as any Lord, eager to witness the greatest tournament in about 30 years.
As the ship's prow slowly inevitably approached the enclosing stone harbor walls, a flurry of action broke out among the crew. Ragnar watched as the men lowered the anchor into the water using ropes and chains. Finally, Davos, the one captaining the Revenge, ordered the great ship to the harbor with practiced skill.
Behind them, the other 50 northern ships did the same; none had to put in as much work as the men of the Revenge did, however. Each "great" Lord of the North was allowed a vessel for their own comfort and to house their household and those who would accompany them south, such as guards, some of their smaller bannerman, and skilled men, to participate in the melee.
Gradually, they passed through the port entrance and glided towards the dock. Ragnar's eyes focused on the men in the harbor as they worked to guide the gargantuan craft into position. With concentration, the crewmen tied up OldGods' Revenge beneath the vigilant gaze of the town's dock master.
Ragnar lifted his head and inhaled the brisk coastal air, and the smell of shit from the city, although present, wasn't as bothersome as one would assume.
The three dragons of House Dovahkiin on the sky landed on a nearby riverbank and slowly crawled into the blackwater rush, making a thin layer of Ice atop the water.
On the ship, Ragnar waited for the sailors to take the Unicorns to the docks, so Ragnar and his family could ride them to the Red Keep. Dacey, Lynara, Lyanna, and Björn joined him on the quarterdeck. Their clothes were as northern as northern summer clothes allowed, which made Ragnar smile at his family for a moment.
As Ragnar stepped down sharply onto the dock, Dacey by his side and their children following closely behind, and behind the children, a small platoon of fifteen guards and four mages protected them. Ragnar's boots clattered against the dock's floor as they walked towards the Rivergate, where the saddled unicorns and the other northern lords, including Lord Stark and Rickon, already mounted on their horses, waited for them; their smaller ships allowing them to disembark and get to their horses faster than Ragnar and his family.
And from the Rivergate, a group of city watchmen rode towards the docks, seemingly to escort them to the Red Keep, but once their eyes landed on the Revenge, open-mouthed, they, like all the man, child and woman on the docks or nearby, gaped in disbelief at the impressive vessel that had led the northern armada.
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A/N: Here we go, friends! One more chapter for y'all
Thank you for your support and my god bless you all! 🙏
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