The Forgotten Son

Chapter 7 Kings and Queens

 

Looking forward to reading your feedback and chatting with you once I get back from work~

Should this chapter get a ton of feedback -here's hoping-by some miracle, I'll update early again. Review threshold doesn't seem possible sometimes; but I'm willing to try. Lack of feedback is a painful thing indeed. On another note, this WILL be bumped up to M in the future. After all, its Game of Thrones. You've been warned~!

Alight, I've kept you long enough. As ever, I own no quotes, references, quotes, themes or memes!

They're simply tributes to legends far greater than I; an old man who writes as a pastime.

Now, then...Shall We Continue? Verbatim for season seven here.

Also a callback here to one of Dany's old outfits.

You all know the one.

"There is...something you should know. I cannot have children."

"Who decided that? Some dusty old witch you burned?"

You decide such things. Not her."

~A future scene.

Kings and Queens

Victory was sweet.

A new Valyrian Steel Sword made that victory all the sweeter.

The spoils of war and the loot that came with it were perhaps the sweetest yet.

Naruto sat on his bed, drew Widow's Wail -ugly name, he'd need another- from its sheathe and laid it across his knees. Good balance, perfect weight. He could expect no less. It almost seemed to shimmer in the light of the late afternoon under his eyes, calling unto him, whispering soft secrets in his ear that only he could hear.

Use me, it seemed to say. Let me drink the blood of your enemies and I shall serve you well.

Maybe that was the madness talking.

...probably was. Better watch that.

He stood and gave the sword a lazy swing, listening to the steel sing as the weapon danced in his hands. It had seen little use under its last two masters. According to Tyrion, Joffrey had hardly swung the damn thing, and Jaime barely more than that. The third time was, as they say, the charm. He wouldn't be letting this blade go, and it would likely be drenched in blood by the time the war was done.

Moving from one stance to the other, he ranged about the room, reveling in his new prize with each swing.

He and Daenerys -alongside the officers- had been given the finest quarters in Highgarden, courtesy of Olenna herself. She certainly had no desire to use them. The rest of the army was billeted outside the castle; giving the troops and poor Drogon some much needed time to recover. He'd thought about healing Dany's dragon himself if only to speed things along, but stopped himself.

It wasn't greed that stayed his hand but rather simple pragmatism.

Things promised to be busy soon. Very busy indeed.

This might be the last chance they had to rest for quite some time. He'd already discreetly dipped into the camp last night and healed those most in danger; if he went about healing everyone in sight it would become expected of him; they would all come to him with the slightest cut and bruise or worse, maybe even missing limbs. He would have no peace.