Chapters
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The Ironborn had run rampant along the Western shores for over a year. Fair Castle had fallen, Lannisport had been sacked, the Westerlands' fleet lay at the bottom of the Sunseat Sea, and even Kayce and Feastfires barely weathered the Ironmen’s swift raids. While the Hightower and Redwyne Fleets were mustering their might to repel the Ironmen and free Fair Isle, Prince Aemond had decided to address the root of the issue, thinking all other enemies cowed and bested. He rested at Banefort for one night…-
191.3 K • Completed
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A common enemy is an interesting thing. I never thought I would witness such a historical moment, but few would ever know of it. After the Doom (and even before that), it would’ve been unthinkable for the magisters of Lys and Myr, the bearded priests of Norvos, the viziers of Qohor, or the masters of Slaver’s Bay to ever sit at one table, let alone agree on one thing. The half-peasant king must be stopped. Aside from Old Blood of Volantis and the Forty of Pentos, the full legacy of the Freehold…-
242.5 K • Ongoing
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259 AC, King’s Landing The Wandering Bastard Silver-gold hair that shone like molten silver in the torchlight, eyes of Valyrian purple, and a pale, delicate face that was ethereal, beautiful like no other. He had seen this eerie, almost inhuman charm only in the Others, and even their features slanted towards cold and sinister instead of beautiful. She did not announce her name, but she did not need to. The kingsguard addressed her with respect that even a lady of a great house would not…
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242.5 K • Ongoing
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Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based on the ASOIAF universe. All recognisable characters, plots, and settings are the exclusive property of GRRM; I make no claim to ownership. Edited by: Bub3loka 259 AC, King’s Landing The Wandering Bastard “This is bloody slow,” Tormund groaned, looking at the winding queue that disappeared into the gatehouse before them. They had barely moved ten yards in the last half an hour, and his squire had begun to grow…
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242.5 K • Ongoing
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259 AC, King’s Landing The Scarred Maiden Rick is rather eager to go to war, now that Father has agreed to sit as castellan in Winterfell. They say that there must always be a Stark in Winterfell—as if I’m not one! Still, I can’t help but be a bit worried, even if the Starks of Winterfell boast a full suit of tailored plate, not inferior to the finest southron knights. The Old Gods know that war is never safe, and fighting at sea has never been House Stark’s strength. Even Father wished…
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242.5 K • Ongoing
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259 AC, King’s Landing The Weary King He was a man twice wed now, now to a younger, more beautiful wife than Betha, but it did not make him feel any better. Even though he knew the necessity of the act, guilt coiled in his belly like a cold, serpentine knot that left him feeling restless all over. Worse, he had found some joy in the young woman in his bed, and it felt like the greatest betrayal. When the door slid open, the red, slender figure marched into his solar, finding him pacing across…
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242.5 K • Ongoing
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14th Day of the 3rd Moon, 303 ACJon Snow Eyes closed, he focused on slipping his mind into the black-feathered bird on the desk before him. "Fool, fool," Mormont's raven cawed at him, making Jon halt his attempts with a snort. With a sigh, he stood up and tossed a few kernels of corn to the crotchety bird, who greedily began pecking at them. Maybe he was a fool. With quite some effort, Jon could slip into the minds of other animals. He had the easiest time with horses and ravens, but it took…-
449.7 K • Ongoing
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259 AC, The Trident The Wandering Bastard “Greetings. I am Jon Snow of the North.” He motioned towards Tormund, who obediently remained silent. “And this is my squire.” It was not a lie, but it was far from the whole truth. But the truth would do him no good and beggar belief. Jon had contemplated offering up a lie, building up some ambiguous background of a noble scion from a decaying but prestigious house, but had quickly thought the better of it. After all, he had already introduced…
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242.5 K • Ongoing
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The end of October 1994 Ron Weasley The school year was in full swing. Even though Voldemort had returned, not much had changed for Ron. Wizarding Britain seemed as peaceful as ever, and whatever happened on the Continent seemed too distant. He trained harder, and the D.A. meeting had grown solemn, yes, but the rest of the school was much the same, if with the addition of a handful of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students. The former were all proud and haughty, while the latter were…-
494.2 K • Ongoing
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6th of September 1994, Tuesday (3 days later) Harry Potter Power throbbed beneath his skin as the air itself was alight by spellfire. Curled in his fingers, his wand sang with joy. Dozens of jagged shards of ice rushed his way. He could feel the chill coalescing into the frost, melding seamlessly into the magic. Harry was undaunted. Back ramrod straight, he stabbed his wand like a sword, shattering them midway with a pulse of raw magic. He ducked under a purple curse, caught a Finger-Twisting…
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494.2 K • Ongoing
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