Game of Thrones: The Prideful One - Chapter 150:

Chapter 150:

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The morning of the day after my resurrection had dawned clear and cold, with winter chill screaming the end of an era. Daenerys and I went out at dawn to talk to Ned Stark, with Melisandre flying among us riding Qrow, I was strangely calm, too calm. Perhaps what I had lost in the resurrection were my emotional attachments to my problems, who knows.

Our mission was simple, we had to change our angle of attack, we had to fight this battle intelligently, one mistake would bring about the end of the world as we knew it.

It took us an hour to fly to Winterfell, proving once again that my sons were the fastest method of transportation in the world today, Ned was currently commanding the northern troops for the coming battle, his breath smoking, in the cold morning air as his son and nephew helped him.

Robb and Jon were doing other things, helping their father with the logistics needed for the upcoming battle, with a sigh I saw how as we landed the weak wind of our landing blew through the army, causing the Starks’ banner to flutter, a grey wolf running across an ice-white field. Poetic, so much so that I wondered how many would die after this.

Ned looked at us solemnly with a look full of joy and concern, his long brown hair moving in the wind, “My king,” Ned knelt in greeting, “You got here just in time to see a deserter being executed,” Ned sighed sadly.

A traitor, well, in the end, it was inevitable, only an imbecile would not fear an imminent death, “In the name of Ronard of the House Mormont, the First of his Name, King of the Andals, King of Essos and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, I Eddard of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Guardian of the North, sentence you to die,” Ned said, raising his greatsword high above his head. And with one cut, Ned took the man’s head. Blood splashed through the snow, as red as the wine of Dorne.

The head rolled in the snow to my feet leaving a trail of blood behind, with a sigh I used my flames to burn the head, noticing that my fire had changed, my flames were no longer red, they were blue.

“Impressive,” Robb mumbled.

My fire was blue now, but… why?

“Any news?” Ned asked, his eyes full of concern.

I looked at the man, “No, everything is still the same for the most part,” I answered, “Our situation is the same,”

Ned sighed, “I see,”

“We have to change our approach,” I said after a few seconds of silence, “We won’t win if we fight like we had originally intended… we need to bring the battle to our own arena,”

Robb looked at me, and said, “How are we supposed to do that?”

“Well, that is what we need to figure out,” I answered, as I gestured to my council I wanted to talk about our strategy in private, meanwhile Daenerys and Melisandre started to machinate ways to help our cause even more.

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[Melisandre POV]

His flame was different, since the moment he woke up, his light had changed, what at first was a raging inferno that consumed everything of its path was now a calmed sea, eating everything on its way, it was terrifying.

His fire was hotter, his eyes were colder… what price did he pay to come back… what did my lord took from him to reignite his fire, what part of him did he lost that he was now… so terrifying.

“Your husband… he is not the same,” I said, knowing full well Daenerys could order her dragons to kill me if I said the wrong words.

“I- I know,” Daenerys acknowledge, much to my surprise, “But no matter how different he is… he is still my Ronard,”

Love, the brightness flame of all, one that if properly made, never runs out, “I see,” it was all I could say.

“He still sees me with love, I can still feel his passion on every touch he gives me,” Daenerys said, “Yet, he feels colder… devoid of care to anything but me and the kids… it’s… different,”

“I will try and ask my lord for… guidance on this matter,” But would my lord listen to me? After I had failed to keep Ronard safe, after I had failed so many times to read his word.

“Let’s see if he actually answers this time,” Daenerys scoffed.

I couldn’t really blame her, my god was known for avoiding even its most loyal servants, with Ronard being the one he had talked to the most, and Ronard hates him, “One can only wish,”

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[Oberyn POV]

I was but a month away from Winterfell, and yet the cold chilling wind of winter was already freezing me. Lands never touched by the ire of winter were now suffering under its mighty wrath, a truly terrifying sight to behold, many would die of cold and starvation during this war, and even more would die from raidings.

Times like this I was happy to not have a crown on my head, though, as Ronard’s friend I feel sorry for him. The economic political terror he will have to deal with when all of this is over… will probably make him reconsider his life choices, well… I suppose I can always make his life a bit easier, helping him rebuild the broken Kingdom he has to rule. After all, that’s what friends are for.

My daughters will hate me for it, staying in King’s Landing, but a few trips to the weapon market and the poison district will fix that, sometimes I wonder… is it stupid to be best friends with someone young enough to be my son… nah, I’m just awesome.

“Stop praising yourself,” Obara chuckled.

“I did not,” Well that was creepy…

“I can see your face… is the same one you always use when selling yourself to others as the best warrior in the world,” Obara giggled, “So I can only assume you were mentally praising yourself,”

The pains of having people knowing every little detail about you, “Well, I suppose… but I’m very praisable… so let me spoil myself,”

“Very well,” Obara shrugged.

“Haha,” I chuckled, wondering what kind of hell was waiting for me, and if I was even going to be able to help Ronard in the end… after all, a dead man can’t help nobody. I suppose only time will tell.

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[Olenna Tyrell POV]

Even from here… I could feel the ominous winds of the north blowing, my old bones creaking with pain, and for the first time in my long… long life, I felt the embrace of death near.

“I think we should let the King face this threat alone… and after the battle, we can take the crown from his head,” Mace offered, with a grin, “We would get it all,”

“Be silent, and listen” I glared at my son with anger, “You will help the King with all your might, and you will do it till your last breath,” I commanded.

“I am the lord!” Mace snapped infuriated with my answer.

“And yet, I hold all the power,” I snapped my finger and the two soldiers he had brought with him to my room pin him down, “I don’t like the King, nor he likes me, but I do admire his skill, and whether we like it or not… we need him to win whatever is beyond that wall,”

“I am your son!” Mace cried in anger.

“Unfortunately,” I nodded with a weak smile, “Know that I do this for our legacy… no, that doesn’t matter anymore, I do this for the one thing that matters know… survival,”

“Mother!?” Mace knew deep down what was going to happen, “I am your son! Don’t you love me!?”

“I do… but I love Margaery and Loras more,” I answered as the soldiers forced him to drink the lily poison I had bought from Oberyn, “We are old… son, we have to leave the games for the newest generation…” I said the last part with tears rolling down my eyes, “You did your part… now is time I do mine… for a better tomorrow,”

The lowest thing a mother could do, kill her own son, but what other choice did I have… I needed this house to cooperate with Ronard, at least for this war, I needed everyone to be at his service. And Mace was idiot, and idiot with the idea of being a King, and once that idea is in someone’s head, well. You can’t stop it.

“Put him on his bed, he needs to be found…” I ordered the men, “I need a few minutes alone,”

Don’t worry Mace, I will soon join whatever hell you ended up… I knew for certain my days were numbered after all.