POV: Author
Private rooms, holiday estate of House Lannister, Silk Road.
Three days after the events of the Great lee.
****
The pangs of hunger forced Jai to open his eyes. It was the fifth or sixth-ti voracity had taken over sleep. Never in all his life had the Young Lion felt such a craving for food. They could have served him horse hay or swine feed on the tray, and Jai would have willingly devoured it all, along with the plump, succulent hands of the servants.
"Feed ! Feed ! Food! What the fuck are you waiting for!" Jai grumbled to the two attendants near the trays. An elderly voice intruded.
"S-ser Jai, my lord... Before you eat and go back to sleep, tell how you feel? Do you feel pain, my lord?" He was so northern maester or in his father's employ.
Jai rose from that prison of goose feathers and skins and peered at the bald old man adorned with the standard grey tonic and the long chain hanging around his neck, scrutinising him with murderous glances.
"Tired and hungry... 'Hungry' first of all. You have your diagnosis, old man. Now, feed , you two! That's an order!!!" The two valets snapped, overriding the healer's authority.
A wooden tray was placed and secured on the doors of the canopy. A bowl of broth and a cream of peas were the two usual courses -approved by the healers-to feed the possible dying man.
Jai disregarded them and gobbled the contents voraciously as if the fate of the Seven Kingdoms depended on that gesture. The hot broth flowed down like water. The flavour of the beef, onions, beets, carrots and various flavoured herbs was a riot of ecstasy. It was the best broth in the world. Then, it was the turn of the cream of peas... The nutg, savouriness and creaminess were subli. The stuffed bowl was empty in less than a minute.
"I want those chicken legs and that ham...! And bring that bread." The murderous lust for survival had subsided slightly. But it was not enough. The hungry Lion demanded more. Jai pounced first on the crispy fowl at. It might not have been chicken but duck, but the jaws and palate didn't give a shit what kind of bird it was.
Jai devoted all the energy and attention in the world to the food served to him. The maester's face looked sweaty and worried at the unhealthy and disturbing spectacle. The old man seed reluctant to approach the patient, as if he believed the Lion might maul living flesh nearby.
"M-my lord Jai... I note that you no longer require assistance in eating. That is good, ser... good indeed. It ans you are regaining your strength... P-perhaps..." Jai ignored the harassing buzz, concentrating on chewing and swallowing that mouthful of white bread and sliced ham faster.
After a couple more futile attempts, the maester approached the edge of the bed, poking his left leg with a wooden chopstick. "Do you hear sothing, my lord?" Fury took over. No one was to disturb the Lion while he ate!
Jai sprang to his feet, knocking over skins and victuals and then grabbing the old pest by the collar.
"And do you feel anything if I squeeze here! What if I pull here?" His right hand gripped the mushy shoulder while his left pulled on the chain. "Argh...! No! No, milord! Please!... Coff...!"
Regaining seconds of lucidity, the knight noticed the wrappings and bandages covering his naked body. A gross linen codpiece was wrapped over his private parts, like swaddling bandages for babies who could not shit or pee alone.
Jai let go of the poor wretch who was only trying to fulfil his duties.
"Don't disturb while I eat anymore, maester... Do what you must while I sleep. Without waking ." The knight approached the serving table, deciding and serving himself delicacies.
***
Twenty minutes later...
Jai finished draining an entire jug of milk. Finally, that insatiable sense of emptiness was filled but was soon replaced by exhaustion. The body still demanded rest. Finally, muscles and joints seed to synchronise with the mind again. The first day Jai opened his eyes again, he could not control his fingers properly... As if arms, hands and fingers did not belong to him.
'I'm almost healed... I just need to sleep and continue training.' The very thought itself seed like a contradiction. But not to Jai. Not for the man who had taken refuge in the world of dreams for more than three nights. The swordsman couldn't wait to re-enter that world.
Without asking anyone's permission, the Lion slumped back into his personal nest of mattress, pillows and furs, falling asleep again.
In the twilight and waking phase, the visions and voices returned.
"Yes... I can"... "I'm sorry, boy. I'm to bla... Hang on still."
That strange warmth remained, and together now, the horrid sound of broken bones and screams. That scratchy feeling inside, the thousand needles that seed to want to stitch up skin and skinned organs... And that deafening heartbeat. ...Those two unnatural crestfallen eyes stared at him, piercing his skull like searing needles. And that conviction that kept flashing and repeating: {The Dayne Legacy is yours}.
The nightmares were the pawns to be paid to re-enter the land of dreams. Terrifyingly realistic nightmares, but, this ti, too, Jai resisted.
The Young Lion catapulted himself back into the training yard: the training yard of Casterly Rock, the most familiar and safe place of his childhood.
"Pick up the sword." Said the darkened-faced figure in armour, there waiting for his return.
A Jai clad only in breeches, boots, and tunic obeyed the command.
Jai tried to ask, "It is you, is it not? I recognise your voice, ser!" before the imminent assault.
The knight-at-arms responded by unsheathing both blunt blades, charging without hesitation.
Jai defended himself by raising his guard. The two-handed broadsword was not his favourite weapon, but the swordsman tried his best to adapt his fencing style.
In less than five exchanges, Jai ended up on the ground imdiately after suffering an impossible sweep to parry.
"On your feet." The knight did not repeat himself and plunged his blade towards the target. Jai rolled away and stood up, suffering the second relentless assault of the master swordsman a mont later.
*Clang! Stuff*.... "On your feet!"
*Sskiin, clang, stuff!* "Again!"
... "Again!"
The training continued and continued without any respite, without rcy. What he wanted from the knight Jai most admired and had been let down... No rcy.
****
The Lord of Casterly Rock stood and gazed in icy silence at the figure lying on his son's bed. Jai continued to lie recovering, gripped by sudden short convulsions and muscle spasms.
Tywin squared Maester Lorence with glacial, expectant eyes. After all, the maester had sent for him for 'Glad News', but Jai's condition seed unchanged.
"It is not as it seems, my Lord! I assure you that your son, ser Jai, is on the fast track to recovery! See for yourself..." Maester Lorence displayed the chaotic remains of a table filled with consud or spilled foodstuffs. Tywin waited impatiently for further polish.
"M-less than two hours ago, ser Jai stood up to eat! He was strong, full of energy and appetite, my Lord! He... he did not wish to be disturbed. He specifically ordered not to disturb him during the al. I h-have witnesses..." The two valets nodded without looking up.
"If my son is on the nd, as you claim, maester... Why does he continue to suffer between fevers and convulsions?" Tywin asked, in the sa tone of voice that preludes a death sentence.
"Gulp... A-after careful analysis and findings, I have drawn that those are not common convulsions, my Lord Tywin... Convulsions are accompanied by foam, drool, and possible jaw spasms. But Ser Jai shows no such symptoms. His breathing, though laboured, is regular." Replied the sweaty, shivering healer.
"And so? What would they be?" Lord Tywin.
"They are... they are 'unusual muscular contractions'. Contractions that, in my humble opinion, help the body stimulate blood flow and tone the muscles. A kind of unconscious exercise or rehabilitation... In fact, more than once, ser Jai spoke in his sleep. As if gripped by a realistic nightmare or dream for the mind, slurring or quoting actual expressions of...mmm: 'confrontation' if we may say so." Old Lion arched an eyebrow as a sign of incomprehension. Maester Lorence attempted to clarify further.
"I have had a match with my colleagues: Maester Wallick of Castle Cerwyn and Maester Luwin of Winterfell; though very rare, such cases have been found in the citadel's records... Simply put, my Lord, ser Jai... he... " the maester seed hesitant to utter the last statent. But his father's inflexible and commanding presence left no choice.
"... Ser Jai trains in his sleep."
****
The day before. In a private room of a holiday resort not far from the temporary ho of House Lannister...
The twelve-year-old representative remained impassive, firm in his iron stance and unwilling to yield in the silent struggle of glances. The air was filled with hostile intent.
Duncan Tallhart broke the silence first.
"Yes. I know of Podrick Lann and the legacy of Valgudryel that House Hightower most fears..."
The veil lifted; it was Leyton who spoke, advancing a step with negligible animosity.
"You seek Brightroar, the scourge of my dynasty. You wish to see the nace of House Lann resurrected, a cri for which you and every mber of your House deserve to be legitimately dispelled from history like ashes..." Leyton.
"You speak of 'legitimacy'? I yearn for a possible ally who can counter the most pressing threat to my people, Lord Leyton. I don't care if this ally has armies, resources, fleets, blood of kings, sorcerers or magical artefacts... If he will have the power my people need to survive and have a more prosperous future, why should I feel accused of a possible cri? What right does House Hightower have to make such an accusation, if not the re power to destroy and annihilate?" Duncan released massive, austere flushes of will. A pressure of resolve and nace that could have cowed even the steadiest of steeds. But the Old Man of Hightower did not allow himself to be intimidated or impressed, advancing further.
"You do not even imagine the magnitude of the powers you are provoking and awakening, boy. The World you do not know will have no rcy on you and all those you care for." The Sorcerer.
"You may be right... But if this World -which I do not yet know- should ever have a problem with , my lord, it is not because of what I have done so far, but because of What-I-Will-Do." The Paladin.
The Great Wizard of Old Town could not use mind magic to frighten or test the boy further. The ancient bond of protection in the na of the three great powers was uncompromising towards any sort of attack. But the veteran warrior-wizard's instincts pealed not to test the ntal will of that Twelve-Year-Old-Calamity-Anomal that the North had spat out of -the Seven only knew- what icy, dark abysses.
Leyton had always had an innate talent for identifying an individual's true potential, and now that the source of all his impending trouble was right in front of him, he knew for sure that Duncan Tallhart might one day beco a nace that not even the union of The Watcher and The King in the Yellow could match.
The Old Man lowered the levels of hostility, and the environnt slowly changed back to its original state.
"The alliance between the West and the North will not hold. Oldtown will not allow it." Affird Leyton in a calr tone after he sat back down and allowed himself a sip from the cup.
"Perhaps... That is why the North seeks other possible alliances. If the First n cannot rely on the Lion, the Dragon at the head of a Rhoynars army will be a more viable alternative." Bloody Snow continued, "But, from what I know, Oldtown will not only have to worry about the North over the threat of the Lion's Return... It seems the Titan has also just entered the race to win the friendship and support of Casterly Rock."
"A re assurance by Braavos to force Oldtown into a more 'advantageous' cooperation for the Iron Bank, nothing more. Braavosians are known for shrewdness and profit-seeking, not recklessness." Leyton replied, not taking the bait.
"An alliance not too reliable for a potential war on a global scale, my lord." Bloody Snow.
"An undoubtedly fragile partnership, should it be only the North to destroy. However, it would beco a solid and lasting alliance should the First n team up with the Rhoynars or Magicians.
Dorne would be a passable nuisance to Oldtown; I do not deny that, but not a threat. The Dornians are famous for their 'Bite and Run' guerrilla strategy over the long haul, strong and resilient as cockroaches in their desert of rock and sand. But in the open field...? The armies of Dorne wouldn't stand a chance on the green plains and hills of the Reach, and unless they wished for a heavy defeat, House Martell wouldn't even dare utter the words 'Siege' and 'Oldtown'.
As for the Magicians... The Confederacy would withstand pressure in the Far East... but the North? Here in Westeros? In the domain of Oldtown and with the presence of the Titan less than three hundred miles from Widow's Head? The Witch-King's armies and fleets would have to get past the Dothraki Khalasars, armies of slavers and rcenaries in our pay, and, at the very least, two thousand Braavosi ships to travel the three thousand miles necessary to give you a firm hand on the battlefield... The wait for your 'vital allies' would be 'long', to say the least, Ser." The Old Man of Oldtown.
"I get the impression that you are overlooking another dangerous and, to say the least, 'underestimated' ally of House Tallhart, Lord Leyton." Duncan.
"Be realistic, boy... Even if, and I say 'if', the North were to succeed in gaining the unlikely full support of the Fourth Organisation, we both know that that order is nearing its twilight. The Spider Queen and The Watcher no longer have long to live, and the foundations of that empire rest on those two indispensable pillars. With Mada Zishua gone, her Vice, Zoldhak No Dua, would barely be able to support a third of the Spider Queen's cloth, and the Nine Demons follow and will only ever answer to one individual: your Wretched-Master... How many years does the Guardian of Love have left to live? Four? Perhaps five?" Leyton.
"You are right..." Duncan turned towards the flas of the fireplace, concealing in ti his eyes stained with sadness and regret at the bitter truth. However, seconds later, the voice resud, "But I was not referring to The Watcher and the Fourth Organisation, my Lord..."
The 12-year-old pronounced the na proudly, "House Stark."
Leyton kept his gaze solid as those iron green eyes with silvery undertones assaulted him with renewed vigour.
"I refer to the power of the dynasty of the Kings of Winter, the descendants of Garth Greenhand's legendary son, Brandon of the Bloody Blade... The Most Powerful, Ancient and Dreaded dynasty among the First n that Westeros has ever known. The only legacy that the Blood of Andalus has failed to dilute and suppress as it would wish. The only House capable of repelling and halting the Andalus invasion... And we both know, 'Old Man', that it was not only due to the Neck and the impervious climate of these lands, as history would have us rember, that Andals armies, strong in their own steel and ten tis as nurous, were decimated again and again by a barbarian herd equipped with furs and bronze." Bloody Snow sang his evil tune and then awaited the spectator's judgent.
"... That power the Starks no longer possess. The dynasty of the Kings of Winter has been buried and frozen for millennia. Torrhen Stark laid the final stone on the tomb of that legacy three centuries ago." Countered The Old Man of Oldtown.
"Everything that can be built can be destroyed. Just as everything that has been buried can be exhud... Brandon the Builder left a legacy, not just a mound of stone and mortar. As long as Winterfell stands and a Stark king stands there to defend it, the North shall not fall." Bloody Snow.
"A war can never be won by remaining on the defensive. The Starks have no power in the south, and the High Tower rises far above Winterfell. The armies of Winterfell would not even be able to see the green flas of my tower before they were blown away like ashes by the winds of Sumr...! I suggest you don't put too much faith in worn-out spells and past prophecies, boy. The High Tower and the Titan now hold the power to bring down and annihilate Brandon's legacy and all the North! And Torrhen's Square would be the first to prove it!" Leyton Hightower.
"You have the power and resources for such a feat, no doubt about it, but not without 'Inestimable Sacrifice'. Why do you think Thorren's Square, Barrowton and Winterfell waited so long before revealing themselves to the World...? Braavos and Oldtown would suffer losses so significant as to dispel millennia of hard-fought and long-suffering hegemony in any punitive invasion.
Ten Andals or any invading foreigners will fall for every First n able to wield a weapon!
I swear by the na of the Old Gods and by the na of the Three Great Powers, Leyton of the Hightower dynasty, if it is to be Our End, I will ensure that the North has a 'Great End': that it will be rembered until the end of ti! Blood will be shed willshall intrigue the Snows of the North until history capitulates and nas an entire cycle of seasons as: {The Crimson Winter}!"
The Demon of the North released a murderous aura so icy and filled with bloodlust that it was able to arouse shivers and turgid hairs from the arms to the mouth of the Great Sorcerer's Neck; a war veteran who had experienced the manifestation of the Seven Hells.
Only one other unnaable entity had been capable of this. The na 'Bloody Snow' was not a nickna dictated by chance....
Silence reigned in the hall for over a minute. Then Leyton Hightower resud speaking.
"There are worse hells than 'Crimson Winter', Duncan Tallhart. If this remains the only path, House Hightower will walk it without looking back..." Promulgated the Protector of the Council Andalus in an authoritative tone but with a look polluted by unwanted resignation.
"Nevertheless, I ca to you, the one whom the Council First n appointed as its representative, in good faith and with the hope of building a different path together."
Bloody Snow replied, in a much more assertive tone: "What else does Council Andalus require to build this path?"
"Only two last demands that, compared to the others, cannot be negotiated..." Leyton continued, "When The Watcher passes away, you are to pick up the duties of the Guardian of Love, sealing your neutrality towards the Known World and its sovereign factions on the sa terms accepted by the predecessor..." The boy seed to expect such a request.
"And the second?"
"... Jai Lannister."
****
End Chapter.
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