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The Crippled Wolf-Stark SI: Ch.45
🕑 Added 2025-04-16 21:01:31 +0000 UTCChapter 45
JON SNOW
The ride from Harrenhall to Kingslanding had been a quiet one. Their retinue of seven thousand men rode hard and fast as they headed towards Kingsladning, trying to support their father against the siege of Stannis Baratheon.
One could tell that Cregan was barely holding himself together after the death of his mother. And though Lady Catelyn had not been his mother, he did care for her. But she was not his mother.
Not really.
His pain could hardly compare with Cregan’s, who, despite it all, led this host through the lands as he led them to the city walls. Bron and the rest rode alongside them, and the sell-sword and his men were going to lead various groups.
“It’s as you said, the gates are closed,” Bronn began as he returned back from examining the wall surrounding the city, and this made their entire journey useless.
“We do not have enough time to build siege engines,” he argued as Bronn scoffed.
“Even if we had the time, we do not have the men,” he corrected him, and the taunt made his mood sour as he turned towards Cregan, who stood there on the hill, looking at the city infront of them.
“Is there anyone we could pay to get the gates open?” he asked, and the man rubbed his chin.
“Well, very few things cannot be bought with gold, and this is not one of them. I know of a few men who would do anything for a few bags of gold,” and Cregan nodded.
“Moving such numbers through the tunnels is not ideal. Tell me the names of these men. Jon and I will use the tunnels to reach them and see if gold can do the trick,” and it was a surprise to him that Cregan put such trust in him.
“Tunnels?” he asked, and Cregan nodded.
“Yes, when Maegor built the castle, he had tunnels built under the entire city and the castle. I know of one that is just a few miles away. We will use that one,” and he remembered reading about them, but had thought them to be a simple tale.
“But are they not very difficult to navigate?” he asked, and this time it was Bronn who answered.
“For us peasants they are,” and his head snapped towards the tall sell-sword who pointed at Cregan.
“Yet, your brother here treats them like his second home. He could move this whole army through them if he wanted to, even if it would be quite a hassle,” and Cregan nodded.
“I could, but we would have to leave the horses and so much of our supplies,” and that would not be good for the men.
“No, I will get those gates open, but I will leave behind a trail for you and your men to follow in case I fail,” and he reached into his pocket and threw a small sack towards Bronn.
“Smell that,” and as Bronn loosened the strings, the effect was immediate as he pushed it far away from his face.
“SEVEN HELLS!” he grunted, and Jon was quite a few paces away from him, yet the stench was so strong that it reached him as well, nearly forcing him to empty out his guts right then and there.
“I didn’t ask. But I will leave behind a trail using that. You will be able to smell the right path in case I fail to get those gates opened up in time,” and it was a sound strategy.
“Aye, that will work just fine,” and Cregan pocketed the small bag and put it in his belt.
“But will you be fine on your own, my lord? I have heard that the city is in quite some chaos,” Bronn suddenly asked, and Cregan nodded.
“Someone has to lead these men into the battle, and you are the only one here who has experience regarding that. Stannis will probably try to target the Mudgate, so send all of them there but he may have the same idea as us and his men could climb up along the shore to attack the castle, so select a few hundred men and send them to that side as well,” and it seemed to him that his brother had spent quite some time making plans.
“Aye, I will do as you, my lord,” Bronn said as Cregan jumped down from his horse.
“We will need to make the journey on foot,” he said, and Jon jumped down, for he was to be his sword and shield.
He brought up his hand to his mouth and gave a long and sharp whistle.
WEEE.
“We can leave as soon as Ghost comes,” and his direwolf had gone into the woods to hunt, and even though it was out of his sight, he could nearly sense that it had heard his whistle and was heading in their direction.
“My lord, there is one thing I must ask you,” Bronn began just as they were about to set off.
“Yes,” Cregan turned to face the sellsword who looked him in the eye and asked in the most serious tone he had heard him use in days.
“They say that the city is rioting. What are we to do if the gates open yet the small folk block our paths?” and the question seemed to make him still as his head snapped towards Cregan, who became quiet.
“You must reach and provide support at the Mudgate. For that, you are to do what you can....”
And just as he was trying to come to terms with his brother’s words, suddenly he felt something hit his legs.
“Ah!” and he looked down and saw Ghost standing there, its mouth covered in blood from its last kill.
.
.
.
.
They moved through the tunnels slowly, step by step, with Cregan leaving behind some of that ghastly smelling powder at every twenty paces. He had thought that nothing could smell more vile than this city, yet Cregan had proven him wrong.
His mind, though, continued to circle around Cregan’s words from earlier. He knew that they were at war, and it meant that they would have to make some difficult decisions, but to kill small folk protesting through the streets.
He had never thought that his brother would give his approval for such a thing.
“Take a turn to the right here,” Cregan informed him from behind, for it was him who was at the front, along with Ghost, whose glare was so vicious that it even scared him.
The smell of the powder was so vile that it made his stomach turn, and if it was so bad for him, he could only wonder just how bad it was for Ghost who had a nose many times as sensitive as a human’s.
“Ghost, no,” he ordered as he saw it glaring towards Cregan who continued to follow after him.
“Don’t worry, we are almost there,” and just as he turned the corner, he stopped, his hand reaching for his sword as he saw their path blocked.
“Get behind me!” he shouted at Cregan as he saw someone standing in there way, holding a fire torch just like him. Cregan took the torch from him, allowing him to draw his sword.
“Who are you?” he asked, and the intruder stepped forward, allowing him to see them for the first time, and his sword lowered as he saw that it was a woman, one clad in a large red dress holding a torch in her arms.
“I knew that you would come here,” she whispered, and there was something about her voice, something soothing, calming. It drew him towards her, though Cregan’s whisper broke him out of his trance.
“Shit!”
“You, why are you here?” Cregan’s anger was visible as he glared at this woman as Jon raised his blade once more.
“To stop you,” and suddenly she lowered her torch and Jon looked down and saw that there was a liquid on the ground, one that glimmered a bright green under the light.
It took him a second to register what it was, and as soon as it did, he moved on instinct as he dropped his blade and turned back, pushing Cregan back into the tunnel with all his might.
“NOOOO!” he screamed, as Cregan’s eyes widened as he fell away, as the red-haired woman whispered.
“BE GONE! SPAWN OF DARKNESS!”
BOOOM!
0000
DAENERYS TARGARYEN
The entire Khalasaar gathered for the funeral, as Daenerys found her eyes dry of tears. The funeral pyres had been prepared, the bodies of the two deceased now lay beneath piles upon piles of wood as her only family now lay dead.
Her brother, and Viserys for all his faults and anger, was her brother. Her only family. And now, as she lay dead, she remembered little of his anger and rage, but his whispers of assurances, dreams, and home.
She remembered that red door from Braavos of the home that they were forced to flee because of the Usurper’s dogs. She had not believed in him then. But she should have.
In her stupor she had forgotten about her home. Her true home, as she lost herself to the charms of being a Khaleesi, yet her brother had remembered. He had remembered.
And now she remembered it too.
For they had chosen to anger the dragon. And she would burn them to the ground, for they had not just killed her brother. No, they had taken her child from her.
A child.
But she should have expected nothing less from that monster.
Drogo walked back from the pyre, beside the two guests who had just come.
Illyrio had come to soothe her pain, the Magister had been heading for the Khalasar to bring her gifts on the birth of her child, yet he was gone. Her son was gone.
Taken from her by that man.
He was accompanied by a new face, one bald and fat, decorated by strange Myrish smells. Varys, he had called himself, claiming himself to be the most loyal servant of her father.
“I am truly sorry for your loss, Princess,” spoke Illyrio, as she gave her a nod.
“This is Varys, the man I told you about. He has served your family’s in ways few have,” and the bald man stepped forward and gave her a bow, his lips quivering with sincerity as he whispered.
“You have my apologies, Princess. I had not thought the Usurper capable of such depravity,” and her lips thinned at the mention of that man.
“Then you thought wrong,” she answered, and the man nodded.
“Indeed, I did. But he shall answer for his deeds, he shall indeed,” and by then Drogo had come, and the drums all stopped as the entire khalasaar turned towards their Khal.
He looked at her, and it startled her. For in her bed, he would gaze at her with such soft eyes, yet now he looked like the feared and monstrous warlord that he was.
“Those savages think that they can use borrowed blades to kill us!” he screamed, and all her efforts in learning the language began to show fruit as she did not need a translator to make sense of his words.
“They think us cowards who will do nothing as they kill my son!” and he made no mention her brother, like his death was of no consequence to him at all.
“BUT WE ARE NO COWARDS! I AM NO COWARD!” and the khalasaar roared with their khal, as shouts erupted from all sides.
“The sea may separate our lands, yet I fear no sea. Those bastards will pay for what they have done today,” and at that, his gaze turned towards her, as he continued.
“I shall ride those wooden horses on the waters and reach their lands! I will tear down their castles! Kill their men! Rape and enslave their women! And I shall sit my Khaleesi on their Iron Throne!” and her heart erupted in her chest as she heard those words.
Drogo walked towards her, as he put his hand around her face.
“Our blood shall sit on that throne. I promise you this,” he said as one of his blood riders stepped forward and gave him a torch.
Drogo took her and placed it in it, as he moved slightly to the side. His intention was clear and she began to walk towards the pyre, her steps slow yet steady until she was right infront of the wooden pyre.
Her dried eyes once more filled with tears as Drogo stood beside her, and lowered her hand, lighting the wood on fire, as the drums began to beat.
“Their homes shall burn just like this,” she roared, and the khalasaar roared with her, and she turned around and saw them all gazing at her as the fire grew wild, such that she could feel the heat of it on her back, yet it did not bother her at all for she was a dragon.
“To those who have killed my son and brother,” she began.
“I, as Daenerys Stormborn Targaryen and the Khaleesi of this Khalasaar shall bring you FIRE AND BLOOD!”
And though they may not know what those words meant to her, the khalasaar roared as well.
“FIRE AND BLOOD!” “FIRE AND BLOOD!”
And just as the ground shook with those chants, she began to walk back from the platform, the khalasar gathered, when suddenly she saw Illyrio’s eyes widen.
“By the Seven!” he whispered, making her frown.
“Princess, look!” and he was pointing towards the pyre, and as she turned around, her eyes widened as well, as she saw what had happened.
And the entire khalasaar turned silent as well as her feet slowly carried her towards the pyre once more, where sounds of shells cracking could be heard as the three Dragon eggs placed in the pyre began to crack.
.
.
.
And as the dragons returned to the world, a red comet cut through the night skies as if foretelling the blood that would be spilled soon.
0000
Comments
Almaz Zakytkazy
Thanks for the chapter! But I think Jon and ghost protect Cregan with their body,and their still alive.
Radiant Tiefling
Thank you for the chapter.
FallenMetalGod
Thank you. Things have become quite off the rails. I can only hope that Jon and Cregan can survive, especially with how crazy the Red Priestess was about blowing them up. It looks like another invasion is about to happen. Great job, as always, and I can't wait to see what happens next.
MyAfroAteMyDog
He’s a Targaryen they don’t burn
Dragonslayer29
Thanks for the chap. I really hope Jon Snow’s not dead.
