The Conquest -- Chapter 2 Preview
Conquest. A homecoming and new beginnings.
He leaned against the dromond's railing, the oars tilling the sea below sent a salty mist up at him.
Not far from shore the Jaehaerys was moving at a brisk pace, the triple-decked warship pulling around a massive grey-green stone jutting out of the water. Rising fifty feet into the air its crown played host to a ringfort jammed with scorpions, spitfires and scores of crossbowmen. The giant stone dominated the approach to White Harbor, the northern port where much of their fleet was already docked.
Built along the eastern bank of the mouth of a large river, this city would serve as their gateway to the Kingdom of the North.
A hand touched Jon’s shoulder then, his mother coming to join him along the rail. The High Queen wore a gown of the darkest grey, a garment far less eye-catching than the crown upon her brow. A product of the finest smiths of Qohor, Queen Lyanna's crown was a circlet of blue gold, wrought in the shape of roses. Jon was never one for jewelry or decoration but it always made him happy to see mother looking so beautiful.
Her expression confused him though, for her eyes glistened with sadness yet a small smile pulled at her lips.
"I'm home." Mother spoke softly, her eyes moving over the city and waterfront before she pointed to the stone ahead. "Seal Rock. Gods Jon, that rock was the last thing I ever saw of the North. Brandon teased me when I wept to lose sight of it. He said he never knew me to love seals so much... he made me laugh..."
"The seals appear to have left with you." He put a hand overtop mother's, squeezing hers slightly. "I see more scorpions than seals on this rock."
Mother flinched some at his words. "The peace my brothers and I grew up with died with Brandon. The North has seen war after war ever since, costing it dearly. My father... poor Ned... I thought to see him at least once more. In my mind I pictured it all the same, my brothers, this land, it was foolish of me. Twenty years of bloodletting, of course this city has changed..."
"It has grown stronger." A gruff voice spoke up from behind them. "As you did after your hardships my queen. The Starks endure."
The voice belonged to one of the white-clad warriors keeping a respectful distance from them. Ethan Glover was mother's oldest friend and the only Northman among the elite Highguard of the royal family.
A thick, strongly built man, Ethan looked a powerful warrior in the white enamel and mail of the imperial guard. In one hand he held the dark ironoak shaft of a poleaxe, in the other a gleaming helm. His hair and beard were thick and russet-colored, bound in a braid behind his head and with a bronze ring below his chin. None of that compared to Ethan's most fearsome feature, the demon's mask brand burned into his right cheek.
The mark of a disobedient slave and a dangerous man. A mark Ethan wore with pride.
The Glover man had served as Brandon Stark's squire and part of mother’s escort to the Storm King. When the slavers attacked their vessel Ethan was captured and chained to oars, no amount of whipping bringing him to heel. He survived all that, and when it came time to throw off their shackles Ethan fought side by side with Jon’s mother. He’d never left her side since, following Jon’s mother on her path to becoming High Queen and eventually taking the vows of the Highguard itself.
"Your uncle's last words to me were to protect Lyanna." Ethan had told Jon once as a boy. "He trusted me. She freed me. I will do honor by them both, for the rest of my days."
As a boy Jon saw Ethan as proof of all mother told him of northmen. Strong and fierce, proud and honorable, Ethan was known far and wide as the High Queen's mailed fist.
Though not to Jon’s mother, to her Ethan was a dear friend and she often treated him so.
"Thank you Ethan." Mother smiled brightly. "Don't try and pretend seeing our homeland again doesn't touch you as well. None will think poorly of you to shed a tear."
"I am not one for weeping."
"Perhaps not today but I remember a young boy freshly arrived at Winterfell looking quite misty-eyed to bid his mother farewell."
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