eastbound | [voice/video] I put my trust in you, a stranger (un: whitewolf)

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[voice/video] I put my trust in you, a stranger (un: whitewolf)

1. Voice

[A man's deep voice, colored with some urgency.]

My name is Jon Snow. I need the aid of two or three strong fighters, outside the city -- now. One of the Beastmaster's creatures is on me. He isn't alone.

2. Video

[Later, it's a young man, looking hesitant and unsure of where to begin. A curl of his dark hair is falling into his bearded face, and there are fine vertical scars above and below his eyes, as if someone once tried to claw them out. He has just been shown to his rooms after a long, hard journey, and he looks like it.

When he speaks, it's with the same deep voice from earlier in the day, now earnest and weary. The more he speaks, the more sure of himself he sounds, until in the end, it may become clear that he's used to addressing groups of people.]

I am sorry for my hasty messages earlier. The creatures are dead -- they won't trouble you or any of the people of this city.

I'm Jon Snow. I come from the Merchant -- I've been riding in and out of these canyons for most of a fortnight. Never seen anything like Taravast, but it is good to be in numbers again.

I don't expect that it will mean anything to any of you, but I am from the North. One of the Seven Kingdoms, it was.

I need to meet with Wrath and Wen Qing, as soon as either of you can. I am in the Palace of the Doxe.

For the rest -- tell me what I can do here in the city. Tell me what I can do to help our cause.

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I believe it is her hope to sail someday to Westeros, but she's refused offers three times in favor of securing the safety of Meereen. She is reluctant to leave the people, and as they cannot all fit on the ships she has, she won't abandon them.

Though her advisors, I'm told, advise it. The people come before ambitions and those that are the most vulnerable will not be left to be enslaved again.

[It's ironic given her current predicament. She can only hope Ser Barristan is maintaining order.]

Do the Westerosi want her to return?

[A little shrug.]

The Westerosi have no love for Cersei.

But as for me, aye, I want Daenerys Targaryen to return.

Why should you want Daenerys Targaryen to return?

[Another marriage?]

No one wants to see Cersei Lannister fall more than I do.

[Excepting, maybe, his sister, who seems irrelevant here.]

The rest is for Daenerys’s ears only. Whatever I say to you right now, I understand I’m saying to everyone.

What do you think of what they fight in this place?

I know little of it, only that the people fled because of the attacks. They were desperate for hope and a sign that they would emerge victorious.

I only heard of the dead, but never saw them. Everything I know is based on the accounts of others. I haven't been privy to much else.

And those stories you hear of the North… were any of them ever about the White Walkers? The Others?

Stories of the North are scarce in Essos and what little I have heard comes from exiles. I read stories, but not so many that go into detail. I believe it's something that children are told.

I know that magic is present in the world and it's unwise to dismiss stories because they sound fanciful.

Aye. It would be unwise to dismiss those stories. I have fought them.

They are only stories, until one of them has its hands around your throat.

You seek then her armies and her dragons.

[It's not a question. She already knows what he would ask for.]

To discuss such things, it might be wise to speak in person. I'm afraid I have been sold to Vannozza Spina's household and I remain watched. You will have to come to me.

Where?

[Name a specific place, he means.]

They say I can go almost anywhere here in Taravast.

I'm in the Palace of the Doxe, Lady Vannozza's wing.

I will wait for you at the entrance and take you somewhere we can speak.

All right. I’m not far.

[Indeed, he turns up quickly, after getting one of the household servants to show him the way to that part of the palace. He is grateful that he had taken the time to eat a little and shake off the dust of the road before he had begun to address the others, as he is grateful for the hospitality that has been shown to him.

He had been raised in Winterfell, had visited what has always seemed like every castle in the North, but he has never been in a place quite so grand.]

[She's careful in how she presents herself to him. There was no ebony bench for her. So instead, she is seated on the floor, her dragon curled around her neck, lazy but alert towards those that were passing by. She's still dressed in her Dothraki leathers and grass sandals. She's not very regal looking, but she still holds herself with a measure of pride.

She's curious when she sees him. The only two Westerosi she knew were Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah. Both were much, much older than she was. There was Quentyn, but he hadn't been in her court for long.

This Jon Snow was near enough to her age and seemed far more confident than Quentyn.]

Come. I will show you the way to my room.

[— That’s a dragon. A real, living dragon. Small enough that he can’t think it would be much aid against whole armies of the dead, but from the stories he remembers, it will grow. Might be that it will grow until it’s large enough to swallow a horse.

It captures his attention enough that the idea of a queen sitting on the floor passes his notice, and that he doesn’t think much about her strange clothes.

He offer her his hand, if she wants the help standing.]

Your room?

[He sounds dubious. Is it right for her to take strange men there? Not just in terms of what her watchers think, but in terms of her safety. A man does not belong in a lady’s bedchamber unless there’s some understanding between them.]

[The proffered hand is accepted, though Drogon's eyes dart to Jon. Red pits that watch him with open hostility. For all she managed to do to control him, he was still a dragon.

His concern doesn't pass her notice. It was a bit strange to feel more brazen in this way. If she were in Meereen, he would not be permitted such a luxury, but desperate times.]

Do you prefer your room? [She can't help teasing him.] There we won't be watched or overheard. I promise to keep you chaste, my lord.

[He opens his mouth to reply, takes another look at the dragon’s face, and shakes his head, dismissing what he was going to say.]

I prefer anywhere that won’t cause any trouble for you. Lead the way, your grace.

[It's not far and much more comfortable than slaves were normally used to. Once the door was shut behind him, she climbed on her bed and tucked her feet underneath her. This was no bench, but it would do. If she was going to discuss this with him, let it be as a queen.]

You wish for me to leave [Meereen] "Dragonstone" and come North to fight the Others with my three dragons? Do I have that correct?

How many men do you currently have? What provisions and defenses? Or should I oversee such things myself? [She's prepared to, if she does come. Making her own decisions always suited her well.

Let him enjoy the sight of this small, nearly bald girl in Dothraki leathers speak with all the authority of a seasoned commander.] There are a number of different demands that I must see to at the same time, once I do sail for Westeros.

The country has been ravaged with war and pillage by the armies of four kings. The fields have likely been salted over in several kingdoms. Should I put aside the people's starvation in favor of a war in the far North? Such matters do seem pressing, but you ask me to think of another army when there are children starving now.

It seems as well that many armies have been decimated. That puts a great deal of onus on my armies and men, many of them Unsullied and Blood Riders. They are not used to the terrain of the North or the cold.

[There was the smile again.]

I am only a young girl who knows nothing of such things, but an alliance cannot be simply one sided. As deeply as I wish to help, I have so many people that need my attention. What can you offer me in return?

[He follows her despite everything — despite his newness in the city, despite the games he thinks she’s playing, despite his discomfort in being alone with a young lady in her bedchamber. The last makes him keep some distance once they arrive, leaning against the wall opposite her seat.

Is this how she holds court, so far to the east? Is this what awaits him on Dragonstone, a girl who dresses like a boy and doesn’t take much trouble to put on an air of ignorance that matches with her protestations of it?

She talks too long, but she’s right in one thing: she can set terms for any alliance between them. She’d be a fool to do it, but she can do it. So he listens to her as she speaks, without addressing any of her points until she seems to have come to an end. He keeps his eyes on her, though he is conscious of the dragon.

Finally, it comes back to him.]

In ordinary times, it might be that the Riverlands are more important to the Iron Throne than the North. But these are not ordinary times.

What we face in the North is not an isolated war, a war that is of no matter to anyone else if we lose. It’s only the first front of a war that will affect everyone. It won’t matter if your smallfolk are starving, yours or mine, if the Dead come and kill them and raise them. The army grows and grows; the people it kills are added to its numbers.

[This is only a patient explanation: he has not yet grown impassioned.]

Winterfell is defensible. We have perhaps five thousand men — more, counting any women and children who are willing to fight, though any who wish can stay in the castle. We are training them either way; they need to know how to defend themselves. But we need dragonglass, and the only place there’s much of it is Dragonstone.

It’s near worthless for anything else. It’s life and death to us.

You say that it doesn't matter, but it does to the families that are starving. It's possible in time that they will come to see this threat that you speak of, if things go poorly, which they often do in wars. These things take time and if your people are not well cared for, it could lead to riots and insurrections. There has to be a balance between these things, otherwise, you have dead on both fronts.

[It's certainly not something she takes lightly.]

Only 5,000? [She shuts her eyes for a moment, pressing her fingers at her temples, as though the pressure from her crown were there.] That would mean you need all of my men?

[Gods be good, but who would protect her city? Her people? She turned Cleon the Butcher away because of a similar issue and the stakes were as great in her estimation.]

Dragonglass? Why is Dragonglass so important to this war?

Edited 2021-11-22 00:51 (UTC)

[He listens to her protestations; he watches the weight of the truth begin to fall on her. It could be simple, if people believed him, if he could easily unite the kingdoms to face the threat. Instead, because it’s hard to believe, everything is triply complicated.

And her question shows that she truly knows nothing of the Dead.]

Not much will kill a wight, or a White Walker. There is fire, but in melee combat, we can only try to use it on their back ranks. What kills them doesn’t do any good if it kills as many of us.

[There, she might understand the use of a dragon: to hit them from the rear, from above.]

There is dragonglass. The legends say that the Children of the Forest used to give it to the Night’s Watch, but that was thousands of years ago. Now there are a few daggers here and there, some arrowheads, but we don’t have much. I know it will kill a wight, or a White Walker. I know a man who’s done it.

The last thing is Valyrian steel, but if dragonglass is rare… [He trails off there, letting the implication hang before he speaks again. Dragonglass can be mined, if a deposit is found, but the secret of making Valyrian steel is lost forever, and most of the swords in the Seven Kingdoms are in the hands of southron houses.] I have killed a White Walker with Longclaw [(he pats the pommel and handle at his side)]. I can’t imagine we’ll be able to get more than a few men with such weapons to take part in the fight, not with things going as they have been.

Obsidian? [She's a bit confused by his comments. Perhaps they were difficult to mine for, but obsidian was nothing wholly unique in where it might be found. Trade and export had been something she paid great attention to in Meereen, but even without this knowledge, she knew Asshai freely gave obsidian as gifts or sold in the great marketplaces.] Doesn't Westeros trade with Asshai? If you speak with the maesters in Oldtown, I would imagine they could help you procure more, as well as find the caches that should be in Westeros.

Dragonstone has its fair share, I've heard, but I think there were others? [Where had she read that? It was in some book or another.] You are much more likely to be supplied by the traders from Asshai. I don't doubt that they would know something of the Others.

[Longclaw. That name is familiar to her, but she can't place why. Jorah never fully spoke of his family blade. There were stories about the great Houses that had their famous swords, but Viserys never shared those. Gods, but what she would give for Blackfyre or Dark Sister.]

That is your Valyrian steel sword?

Edited (haha, westeros trades with asshai) 2021-11-22 02:14 (UTC)

No. There are no other sources. The maesters have hardly listened more than anyone else, though it was a friend in the Citadel who told me of the deposit on Dragonstone. And even if there was regular trade, we have little coin… Lord Manderly gives what he can, but we have so little. You speak of the wars. We have been left with as little as anyone. We didn’t have much to begin with.

[He gives a little shrug when she asks about the sword.]

Aye. Longclaw was given me by my old Lord Commander. He had no one else he wished to pass it to.

You needed someone from the Citadel to tell you obsidian was on Dragonstone? [That seems a bit silly. Where else would it be? Dragons lived and grew on Dragonstone for so long. They made caves there, hatched eggs there. All of that heat and all of that pressure? Of course it was no different than Valyria.

But that's not the point. She gives a small sigh, trying not to be frustrated. Quentyn Martell made more sense to her at times than this man. ~~At least he was pretty.~~

She took a moment to gather herself, uncertain if she was reading this situation or this man right. Even without their differences, matters in Meereen had shaken her and left her uncertain of her abilities to negotiate as needed.]

What then is it you seek in this alliance?

[She offered out her hand, her face curious as a girl's. A silent request on her features.]

Your Lord Commander was well armed.

[Wait? Lord Commander]

Lord Commander of what?

The Old Bear, Jeor Mormont — he was Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. I made a promise not to let the sword be taken from me, but —

[He thinks about it for a long moment, then capitulates, unbuckling his sword belt with a grim face. He wraps the scabbard with it, then approaches. She can look at it, but he’ll hold on to it as much as he can.]

[She leaned forward to get a better look. There were no ripple pattern, no shimmer. Strange. Jorah's sword. She doesn't need to ask how it ended at the Wall, she knows the reasons Jorah lost his home and his sword. It was strange that it was in the hand's of this King in the North...who was apparently in the Night's Watch.]

How can you be king when you are a Black Brother?

[Her eyes flicked up from her position, an amethyst gaze in this close position.]

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video => action

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idk Dany it’s adaptational differences!

D&D were stupid and everyone knows this

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