SUMMERHALL
THE MARCHES
OF DORNE
259 A.C
MAERA GREYWOOD
“It's a harder way and
it's come to claim her”
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆,
the castle was burning and nothing could stop the ravenous flames from swallowing everything in its wake. Hot, blistering waves of crimson fire lapped and licked away at the castle's once gleaming amber stone walls, no better than that of a hungry beast. Stone walls crumbled and melted away to sand under the fierce power of the flames, and sweetgrass burned and turned to nothing more than glowing embers in the haze of cloying smoke, drifting high into the night sky with the screams and shouts of terror that raged on into the bottomless sapphire currants of the gentle river around. Blue waters ran red from those burning, jumping with impetuous regard as they dove head-first into the bottomless depths, caring not for the dangers of the greedy waters or their ravenous hands that dared to drag them down to their cold depthless kingdom.
Some with more strength than the others whom the fire’s rage had blessed, had managed to survive the torrent and bustling waves of the river surrounding the blazing castle and made it over to the other side. Gasps and cries of relief-tinged agony echoed through the cool marshlands from those few collective survivors of the tragedy that raged on before them.
Maera Greywood stood in astonished horror on the muddy banks of the riverbed facing the opposite way of what had been the glorious castle, Summerhall. A keep once made of glittering amber-colored stone and shined like petrified sunlight in the daylight and had been the safe haven for weary dragons, but now was nothing more than a burning inferno. Chilling rivets of water ran a muddy path down her shaking form as it washed away the black ash and smoke that clung to her weary form, stinging like a nettle’s kiss against the inflamed burns that littered the pale of her skin in blistering blossoms. Such pain, though, was nothing more than a dull and distant thing to the Northern maiden as she stood frozen in horror to the chaos around her that raged on, unable to tear her watery gaze away from the fires that grew to mystifying heights and to those who fought an unwinnable battle to stop its power.
Fire does not burn the dragon
Days, peaceful and warm from the Dornish sun had passed by in a gentle wave of contentment for those of House Targaryen and Greywood, who together had traveled as one large party to the marshlands only a month prior. A journey that for either prominent dragonlord house came as both a celebration and a great sign of promise for the future with Princess Rhaella Targaryen and Lady Maera Greywood were both soon to be expecting children. News that hed elated both ancient Dragonlord Houses, whose numbers had dwindled over the generations along with that of their beloved dragons, till only so few remained. With this joyous and promising news, at the behest of King Aegon V Targaryen, both houses were to journey to the marches of Dorne and enjoy the gentle comforts of Summerhall as to celebrate.
A journey many had silently questioned the good King’s judgment on as all who resided within the court knew of the precarious condition that his most beloved granddaughter, Princess Rhaella, suffered under as her pregnancy progressed and the frailer she had become. Maera herself knew this better than anyone, serving as one of Rhaella’s ladies-in-waiting and seeing firsthand the toll that carrying the child had taken on her. Days spent by her weakened state wiping away the sweat that dampened her silver brows from the unrelenting heat and cleaning the bile from her lips as the retched smells of the city had churned her sensitive stomach to the point of rejection anything of sustenance, Maera had seen the worst of it when it came to her dear friend’s pregnancy. Despite the uneasiness and fear she held at the idea, she knew that anything had to be a better option than to sit back and watch as her friend weathered away from the poison that was KingLanding.
Begrudgingly with an uneasy heart, she had accepted the idea that traveling to the marshes was the best idea not only for Rhaella but for herself as the woes of the city had begun to take their own toll on her as her pregnancy continued to progress onward. Tired and weary from the days of comforting and caring for the princess, Maera had begun to find her once easy duties more laboursome than before as her stomach swelled further and further with every passing month. Walking the stairs of Maegors Keep to trailing after the princess had left her breathless and her back smarting more than it ever had, and the gods-awful smell of the city that crept from the open windows had threatened a few passing time to have her up-heave her mid-day meals. Even just doing something as simple as sitting to sew with the other noble ladies had come to cause her great discomfort and pain in the months passing.
“Maybe we should return home. There you would be sure to find comfort, my love. The princess would understand, everyone would understand.” Edmund, her sweet and dear Edmund had suggested one night the week before they were set to ride out for the marches.
His eyes as blue as the Winter Sea had looked upon her with pleading hope and devotion, the warmth of his large hand rubbed soothing circles upon the large swell of her stomach and quieted the insistent kicking of small feet against her ribs. Closing her weary eyes, Maera had imagined it, home. Cool winds that carried the gentle smell of fresh summer snow, the black beaches with their silvery waters, and the warm halls of her ancestors to greet her. How tempting it had been, the idea, one that could have very easily been accomplished with the right words spoken at the right time, but just as the visions of home had danced right before so had the pitiful image of the young girl she had sworn an oath to serve under. Pale and woeful, scared of the future that lay ahead of her and the dangers it held. It had been then at that very moment, Maera knew from the very depths of her heart that she could not leave the princess or the obligation she had sworn upon to uphold.
“I cannot leave, she-she is so young and so alone.” she would whisper, a bittersweet smile of acceptance on her lips. “It would be cruel for me to abandon her when she needs a friend more than anything now. Especially in a time like this. I cannot and will not forsake my duties.”
“I worry for you, for our child.” his voice had been nothing more than a silent plead on gentle lips, resigned to the knowledge that he would not be able to change her stubborn and determined mind. “I wish not to see you suffer my love.”
“Worry not my sweet, for our child or me.” the coo of her words a gentle song to his ears, warm hands guiding his to the plains of her chest as to feel the proud and strong rhythm of her unrelenting heart. “We shall endure, as all those of my house have done before us have. Ice and Fire, we shall remain.”
A fool she was, a fool to her compassion and loyal heart. Unable to fight its powerful sway over her consciousness and mind, compelled to do its strange biddings and unable to go by without heading its demands. Stranded by its misgivings to unknown lands by such tender compulsions and forced to watch as those around her burned to ashes by the flames of desolation that sought to take them all.
To burn them all.
It had been the cloying smoke and Edmund's instant hand that had awoken her to the fire, fear painting the pretty blue of his eyes and darkening them to something almost entirely unrecognizable to her as he fought to pull her the depths of sleep’s control and to the world of the waking. Though perhaps it might have been better to have slept, for this all to have been nothing more than a terrible dream rather than the living reality it was, and to live with the tragedy of it all in her heart.
Edmund, he had not been kind or caring as he had dragged her tired and aching form from the comforts of their bed in his determination to save them from the slowly burning room, pushing them to the doors of their chamber and retching the smoking door without a second thought. A storm of smoke and flames greeted them on the other side, blinding them briefly and robbing them of clear breath as they tried to move onward from the dangers. Together through the inferno, Edmund would blindly navigate them through the castle, barely missing the burning debris falling around them as hot cinders blessed their skin and burned the mortal flesh away from them. They would make it to the exit and the river, but not without suffering from the fire’s wrath with burns and cuts littering their shaking forms and the burning smoke in their quaking lungs. Outside the burning castle near the riverbanks, those who had managed to escape its blazing confines had begun to work on trying to tame the fires and help those who had also fleed the fires; ushering those survivors to cross to the other side of the riverbank to safety.
“You need to go with the others, cross the river, and find safety.” Edmund had urged her, all but pushing into the arms of the men who had been helping people cross over the river. His words and their underlying meaning had sent a sharp painful bolt of panic through her heart like a knife when she realised he would not be joining her. “Find the rest of the household if you can and stay with them.”
“What about you, Edmund? Edmund?”
Only her sweet Edmund said nothing, instead, he crossed the few inches of space between them that lingered and grabbing her gently by the arms he kissed her firmly on the mouth. Pouring all the love and devotion that he had in his giving heart and handing it onto her to keep deep within her own. All too soon it was over and he was gone from her side, briefly giving the man behind her a swift nod before turning and rushing to aid the others, not stopping to heed her cries of protest or tearful begging as the man hauld her into his arms and carried her through the river’s rushing bank. He cared not the threats she swore down upon him or the angry and fearful tears that slid down her soot stained cheeks as struggled against his strong grip on her. Only caring to do the job he had been order to do as crossed the rapid waters and make hale to the lands infront of them, gently setting her trembling and wet form onto the muddy ground when they had reached the otherside of river.
“Stay here and don’t move.” the man pointed a firm and dirty finger towards her, his mouth a thin line and face serious as he had looked down at her.
“What about my hus-”
The man had given her no room to argue as he shook his head and all but shouted at her, “Your husband gave you to me to save, not him or anyone else, you. Now stay here and don’t move as I go help the other’s! Don’t move! I will be back!”
She sat in angered silence at the man’s tense tone with her, biting her tongue and swallowing back the sharp lashing of words that rested just behind the prison of her teeth. Nodding tersely as a firm glower-like expression crossed over her dirty face and the heat of her displeasure glowed from her eyes, if the man was affected by her scathing look he showed and said nothing of the sort that gave it away. Satisfied with her answer and the fact that she wasn’t going to disobey him, the man without another word turned and ran back to the riverbed, disappearing from sight as he was swallowed by the waves of the cool waters and the growing wall of burning smoke.
Maera in truth, did not know how long she sat on the cold muddy banks of the river watching frozenly in crippling disbelief as the fires raged on, licking the crumbling stones and lands around. The people who struggled to cross the river's cold waters, cries of relief and pain echoing high into the air like a song's chords. Time seemed like a fickle thing, something almost unreal, slowed down to a symphony of burning colors and muffled sounds. Despite her sitting on solid and strong ground, she couldn't help but feel she was sinking, like a heavy stone to the dark depths of a lake's rippling waters. Her limbs shook with the passing seconds, legs trembling as she forced herself to stand and move to slightly higher ground so as to not inhale anymore of the thick smoke. All just a distant thing to her.
Maera found the action unrecognizable to her own mind, it a muddled mess due to the fear and worry that clung like the smoke pouring forth from the castle walls. A fog of dissociation that threatened to swallow her whole as the fires that burned had fulfilled long ago for those lost to it, blurring her senses to all around her and ensnaring her weary soul to pain. The pain of terrible loss and the pain of welcoming life.
Pouring forth with a bloody promise of an impending arrival, Maera felt the thick unmistakable liquid of birth drip from the crook of her legs in clear ruddy streaks and pool around the balls of her mud stained feet. Her stomach, which gratefully had been at peace through the whole of the situation, lurched painfully with the roll of a contraction, stinging the muscles of her womb and thighs no better than that of bolt lightning lashing down upon the earth. The pain tethering her consciousness once more to the realm men with every wave of ache that washed against her womb and receded. Her bloody and smoke stained hand gripping tightly with the unmistakable alarm at the covered swell of her stomach as a sharp cry of panic tinged discomfort left her trembling lips.
“No no no,” her words a fearful plead, praying on broken thoughts alone, she begged to not let it be, to not let her child arrival in this world when it was nothing more than a burning inferno and helpless to it’s rage. “Please, I-ah! Not now!”
Only fate would not heed her mournful cries, already swayed by a bittersweet song and aligned to their preconceived designs of salt and smoke.
Maera felt the constricting binds of confliction wrap around her heart, she knew the man Edmund had entrusted her safety to had warned her not to move from where she stood as he went to help the other’s cross the river and that he would return, but as the minutes dwindled down and the pains of her labor grew to a fierce thing, she knew that the chances of him returning and helping her were as slim as saving the castle from the fires and deep down she knew Edmund would want her to do whatever it would take to ensure their child’s safety.
Resolved in her decision, Maera shakily like a newborn deer, turned on her feet and pushed through muddy banks of the river towards the forest that resided nearby. Ignoring the blistering pain that flared from the crook of her thighs and ran a ragged path up the swell of her hips with every step, Maera pushed it all aside in the desperation of finding help and shelter, fear at every moment tearing away at the barries of her wavering heart as her pain and the ability to run withered. Making her way into the forest, she found the air cooler and cleaner than it had been near the river as the smoke from the fire had not yet reached it’s skies, a sweet relief to the ache of her smoke stained lungs. The forest itself was a welcoming sign of hope for the young Greywood, having earlier in crossing the river, seen some of the survivors who feld the fires run into the forest and knew that if she was quick enough then she might be fortunate enough to find them or those belonging to her own house in her search for aid. Only that hope diminished like the light of candle to night’s long winds, as the pains of her labor amounted and she could no longer ignore them.
Pain, brutal and unforgiving pain, blinded her senses and stole not only the breath in her lungs but the very strength in her legs as she could no longer bare to stand, falling to the very ground beneath her. Her cries of agony echoing hauntingly through the trees and carried by the gentle breeze like snow on a birds wings. Her legs, weak and no longer able to carry her, Maera dug her hands and knees into the cool dirt below her and managed through bloody limbs, to prop her aching form against one of the nearby trees.
Sweat clung to the arch of her brows, trailing down the round plains of her face and clearing away the smoke that had stained her skin, mixing with the fearful burning tears that flowed defiantly from her lilac eyes. Cries and moans tumbled freely from her lips and lofted like fallen leaves through the cool air, dancing amongst the tall oak trees. Her skin smarted with the growing blisters and burns that littered her body, leaving her once golden skin tinged with blossoming molts of pinks and crimsons, and her knees stung horribly from the fall; yet it all fell short to the molten and burning pain that echoed ravenously from her womb as the demand to push drew closer and closer. To the fear that swallowed her whole and left nothing but the remains of the once brave woman she had been, behind.
“P-Please…help me,” she cried on broken lips, weakly clutching at her belly and closing her tired eyes in silent devotion. “Ple-Ah Please help me, anyone….please.”
Maera had never been a pious woman, she didn’t pray on bent knees to the fourteen like her mother had or those who came before her. Nor did she pray to any nameless gods whose faces were carved by reverent hands into the bone white bark of the Weirwood trees or the new, whose statues stood tall and proud as those below them lit holy candles with every prayer. She felt no such pulling devotions or desires to the notion of religion, instead of finding solace in prayer she found it in books and the logic of reason than in fate, something that had vexed her mother to no end and worried her lord-husband as he had grown up with the devotion of the old gods as boy and still prayed beneath the ancient Weirwoods.
Truthfully, it was not as if she hadn’t tried, reading and praying the holy words with reverence until her mouth could scarcely form the words and her knees had bled onto the stone floors, had she tried. Only where she had hoped to find that divine connection or feel their blessed presence in scared affirmation, she only felt the loneliness of being proven a fool when her call came unheard and her prayers unanswered. Learning a hard truth those many years ago as she had worshipped on broken knees and bloody lips, a truth that many would condem her for but nonetheless a well earned truth, that the call of the of the gods did not reach her and she for them.
Yet as she staved the need to push and the fear of a thousand mother’s tore away at the very fabric of her soul, did she pray. Every god and every divine name she could remember, did the young Greywood heir pray her worries to and ask for resolution to be sent her way. To save her child.
“He-Help me-Ah!” she cried once more into the open air, uncaring to the tears of pain that fell freely or the resolution in her heart that she knew deep down she was alone and no one was going to come and help her. That she was to do it all on her own.
‘You’re a Greywood, you do not coward before fear, you conqure it.’ she thought wearily to herself the words her mother had once told her as a young child as she had shown her the catacombs of her ancestors, speaking of their valor. ‘You are a dragon from a long line of dragons, we do not fear the unknown and we do not run away when things become too difficult. We brave through them and conquer them.’
“I will conquer my fears and in the end, I will be all that remains.” Maera felt the words leave her lips in a whispers, her body moving to sit more straighter against the bark of the tree and her knees bent closer to her chest as she moved herself to the correct position she had seen so many of the woman back home take, shaking all the while as she did with the unease of the unknown plaguing her heart.
“I am a dragon and fear are the flames of my control.”
No longer able to deny the call to push, silently on bloody legs and burned dreams, she gave into the instinct and began to push. Every wave of her contractions felt no better than the mountain of flames that had engulfed the castle, growing and climbing despite all that she tried to do in order to quell them, her efforts fell in vain. Pain like night’s fog, swallowed all her senses and blinded her to nothing else but it’s embrace, no longer could she feel the cool winds that brushed her damp skin or hear the creaking of the tree banches above as she lost herself to the sensation and the determination to do nothing else but push.
Unaware of the sound of feet the inched closer to her tired form, until she, through the dissociation of the had heard the shout of a familiar voice rang out through the woods. “MY LADY!”
Even though the action felt strained and difficult, Maera couldn't help but smile as recognized the lumbering and willowy frame of Gaemon Greywood, a squire and distant cousin of hers, no older than five and ten name days who had been taken under the guidance of Edmund before they had traveled to Summerhall, an choice that elated the boy to no end who aspired to be as great a knight as him. Loyal as he was attentive in his duties, which made more than favored in the eyes of her Lord-Husband who had taken a liking to the young man, he hardly had strayed too far from him and throughout the whole of the journey Maera knew that wherever he be, Edmund was not too far ahead. A thought alone that sent a spark of hope to flicker in her heart.
“Gaemon.”
The young squire fervently ran till he came to kneel by her side, soot and blood covering his face like a grim mask. Up close she could see a deep gash on the left side of his face, run raggedly across the dark of his brow till it reached the tip of cheek and various burns littered his skin. His hands she noticed looked the worst of it, with horrible burns and blisters having turned the skin various painful shades of pink. Yet when Maera would look upon his face it seemed his own injuries seemed to be the least of his worries as sickly distress washed over his young face as he took in the pitiful sight of her.
“My Lady, oh gods…” He gasped softly, lavender eyes widening in concern at the daunting sight of the blood that had stained her once pale shift and trailed down her legs in gruesome streaks. “My Lady, I-I…what is hap-”
“Thank go-odness you are here-ah…Gaemon!” She cried, a watery and relief-tinged smile dancing on the full of her lips only to be washed away by the excruciating roll of another wave of contractions wracking at the tender walls of her womb, her hands digging into once more the tender earth to stave off her pain.
“My Lady, wh-what is happening... is the-the baby alright?” his voice shook with each word and his throat constricted thickly with unbridled emotions, green with anxiety as his stomach lurched with every horrible possibility rushing across his mind.
“Th-The ba-ah-by is coming!” she hissed sharply through the impenetrable wall of her clenched teeth, tasting blood on her tongue as she endured through the need to push once more and relaxing with weary sighs when it briefly passed over once more.
Panic glossed over in a pale sheen over the boy’s gentle eyes at her grave words as they took in the weight of their meaning, “Then please, allow me to go and retrieve help.”
He moved to stand but stopped short when felt a small hand rest on his shoulder. Maera looked at him wearily as she shook her head, dark curls sticking to the damp of her skin uncomfortably, “No, there is-is no time. Th-The baby is coming no-ow!”
“Then..then what would you have me do, my lady.”
“Help…me…please.” Her words were a cry on chapped lips, echoing sadly through the lonely woods.
Unsure and conflicted, the young squire inched closer to the groaning woman whom he had promised to serve and protect with not only his sword but his life and settled himself in front of the bloody crook of her legs. Dread made the young man pale and his heart became a thunderous thing that almost thumped painfully against his ribs and caused his once steady hands to shake as he helped adjust the noblewoman to open her burned and bloodstained legs wider as to accommodate him to help her, but such feelings of his own fears he knew were truly meaningless as with one glance to his Lady whose eyes usually shown clear with bravery, shinned almost brokenly with tears of fright and anxiousness.
And he knew then that time to uphold the vows and promises he made, was that very moment.
“Don’t worry my lady, everything will be okay. I may have no real experience in delivering children but I have helped my mother who has delivered her share of children back home,” he promised her, a newfound confidence washing over him and banishing the trepidation that had once shaken him. “I am here and I will not leave your side or let anything happen to you or your child.”
Without another second wasted, the young man began to help her using all the knowledge that he could possibly remember from his days assisting his mother. Time seemingly faded away into a crimson haze, the world melting away and morphing into nothing more than the need to push and move onward, to not give into the dangerous call that was the Stranger’s song and become another soul lost to the on-going battle of life and death. Sweat and blood clung to her skin, tears ran like scars down the once gentle plains of her face, her body blessed by the flames with every mark engraved into her skin, and her teeth bared sharply to all with the unbreakable defiance of her being.
A dragon revealed from under human flesh.
“You are close my Lady,” Gaemon would inform her proudly, his face no better than her’s as the blood from his gash still dripped and his face was damp with the sweat from his efforts in aiding her. His hands and arms covered in the muck of birth as he helped to keep her in the right position once more and his words a sweet relief to her weary soul. “Just one more push, and you shall hold your child in your arms.”
Maera nodding, righted herself once more against the tree and baring down on sore teeth she did as she was told. Pushing, she pushed with all of her might till the blood rushed like hive of bees in her ears and her vision narrowed to needle point slit of determination as she persevered forwards and onwards, ignoring the terrors that screamed their grievances or the Stranger who loomed with an awaiting hand the moment she was to fall and succumb to the darkness of it all. She would endure, she would remain.
On a ragged scream of triumph, Maera slumped with exhaustion as she felt it all come to sudden end and the pains that once afflicted her vanished and all fell silent. No longer were it the sounds of her labor that filled the hollowed woods with their haunting songs but rather the fierce cry of a baby shouted for all and any to hear.
“A girl, my lady.” Gaemon would hold the squirming and scarlet stained babe up for her too see, a wide and elated grin on his face as he told her the wondrous news. “A healthy girl.”
“A-A girl?” she would ask thickly, her voice and emotion reaching as high as the stars that watched over them. Tears that once had been tainted with the sickly emotion of fear, ran unabashedly with elation and the euphoria contentment.
Gaemon laughed softly, nodding his dark head as a proud smile would grace his lip, “Aye, my Lady. A girl, another proud woman to grace the House of Greywood.”
Her delight assuming over her, Maera could do nothing but grin with overwhelming joy as she watched the young squire hand over her daughter and place her wriggling form into her weary arms. Bewitched she was, unable to be swayed away from the magic that danced and tied her to the small being that rested safely within her arms, within her heart the moment little but curious eyes of sweet purple met those of gentle lilac. Holding her child closer, she would press her to the swell of her heart and hope that as time would pass and they grow, they would forever remember its lullaby and all the love they held for them engraved in it’s melody.
Her daughter was a small thing, small and wonderful she would think happily to herself as she would look down at her child with nothing but endless affection and love. Taking in the beautiful hue of her doe eyes, the gentle roudness of her little cheeks, and finally the tufts of hair that dusted along the crown of her small head. First glance, Maera saw the tell-tale sign of the dark locks that most if not all Greywoods were born with, herself included, but near the front she couldn’t help but be shocked when she saw large tufts of silvery white hair gleaming. An unusual and uncommon appearance, one she hadn’t seen not since her grandmother, Shaera Greywood, who had inherited such looks from her own father, Maekar Blackfyre.
A man who was said to have been just as cruel as he was compassionate, his duel sides reflected they said in the split locks of silver and black that adorned his mighty head. Some might have taken it as an ill sign, for all knew the bad blood that had run hotly through the House of Blackfyre, how they had wasted away with greed taking more than they had to offer. A house whose’s song had ended in nothing but blood and woe as to pay for their misgivings, and having such ties to a wicked house would only be the same for those bound.
Maera, though, did not see such ill omens in the locks of her daughters hair, but rather as a sign of the untold greatness that she knew was destined for the small child resting within her arms. And such greatness deserved a proper and laudable name.
“Hello, my sweet Baela.”
Unaware, from in the distance watching with knowing eyes that shinned as magnificently as polished rubbies, a woman stood covered by a rich cloak, it’s dark color the same as spilt blood under the waining light of the sinking moon. Protected from sight she was by the shadows that loomed from the flames of her burning god, she observed with keen and ancient eyes the Dragon maiden and the child she held close to her breast. A child born with the lingering smoke of great tragedy pooling around their tiny figure and the salty blood of life ointing them.
Born from salt and smoke
A sly smirk would play at the woman’s full lips as her eyes of gleaming red would shift softly away from the mother and child and look high into the sky. Her smirk growing to a cunning smile as she would find the answers she searched for, seeing soaring across the fading twilight skies a sign that would go unnoticed for years and and unaccounted as the thick pillaring clouds of grey smoke from the fire that would be known for generations as the Tragedy of Summerhall would block it from mortal sight to those below. A glowing comet tinged as red as the blood that stained the sleeping child’s brow. With a fluttter of her eyes, the warmth of thousand fires washed over her as her god confirmed all that she had speculated to be true and made real by heavenly fires dancing amongst the stars. Ushering towards a destiny unavoidable and unchangeable.
Turning on her heel, the woman would recede back into the shadows as over the horizon the sun would rise and awash the land in the healing light of the dawn, leaving behind only the faint smell of sweet incense and the breath of divine words to be the only proof of her existence as her melted as one with the shadows and disappeared from a sight, nothing more than smoke in the winds.
“Sīr ziry rhaenagon”
𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄-
Hi guys!!! Here is the first chapter of Kingdom of One!!!!
I just wanted to sorry for not posting in while, I have had terrible writers block when it has come to my Game of Thrones stories, but luckily it has seemingly cleared!!!
I will try to post more but I will be moving in these up coming months, but I will try!!! I do hope you guys enjoy this chapter and what I have planned in the future for our beloved characters!!!
Please remember to read, comment, and vote; but most importantly just enjoy the story itself.
Stay safe and be kind to one another!