Chapter Text
“They are here! The King is back!” a young boy shouted “The King is back! The Targaryen Queen is with him!” he ran and ran to every corner of the little tavern, then shot outside again, shouting his news incessantly, eager to receive the other half of his promised prize. With those coins, he could certainly buy some turnips or maybe enough material to make Sauna, his litte sister, a new satchel.
The man looked at the door the little boy left wide open, his stare lingering there for some more seconds, as if in deep thoughts.
He straightened his back, massaging his tired limbs, adjusted his instrument on his left shoulder, and headed for the growing crowd, to see firsthand the objects of all that emotion.
Emotion that had been highly anticipated through all the preparations over the past few weeks. From the moment Lord Maderly had been notified of the King's imminent return he ordered that virtually every corner of the city should be polished to accommodate him. Demiore, that was his name, doubted that, with all the things he already heard about the practical nature of their King, a warrior through and through, some flatteries would make any difference. Manderly kept himsef aloof from the battle of the Bastards, and a clean road was certainly not enough to forget that particular fact.
Anyway, since he didn't know him neither saw him in person he couldn't be sure about how he could react, nor if he would accept his services at all. He had traveled half the Seven Kingdoms just to see in person this notorious bastard King and his Wolf, because these were incredible times of magic and unbelievable stories, and it was his duty to bring the most poetic aspects of those events to life (and because a singer like him feels attracted to those singular of stories after all) only to discover that he was leaving for Dragonstone, summoned by a foreign Targaryen Queen that could or could not end his life. No need to say that he strongly hoped for his return, safe and sound, which the majority of his subjects also hoped for, and a tiny part of that hope from his part could be because he tought he had found the perfect subject for a decade-lasting new ballad, he had the chance to compose history… but without his major character all would be for nothing. Also, if the encounter with the said beautiful queen had led to anything good, he could always elicit some good verse about enchanting beauties and bastard Kings, provided that the king in question had returned all in one piece.
Instead, greedily, he rejoiced for the fact that he had not only an honourable King but also a warrior Queen now to sing about.
The couple in question was expected to depart for Winterfell in the next days. That could only mean a convoy and one of the most varied and diverse that Westeros had ever seen. An occasion that could not be missed.
But nothing, nothing could have prepared him for what he saw when they arrived.
He stood, perched on the foundation of a column, a head taller than anyone in the multitude of bodies assembled to see the living embodiment of the multiple stories that continuously swarmed between the common folk.
A warg with a wolf soul was their king.
Warrior, and savage like the wildlings he lived with. Many were the ones who whispered about secret powers, he seemed to be able to collect the gods benevolence and many more thought him to be a God amongst humans, who hidden under the false claim to be no more than a bastard when instead he was the only hope. Who came back to life to make everyone see reason and fight together in a war of Gods.
And then a continuous refrain and music started swirling in his head, and he tried his best to unravel the mess
There in the frozen forgotten lands
There he is beautiful and deadly
A big White Wolf, with eyes like rubies
His fur like snows, his steps are steady
There in the big and onice sky
There is the Moon, lonely and bright
High over everything she conquers the night
She knows the magics of fire and life.
The moon saw the beast, elegantly staring
And decided that she too, could be a bit daring
She made for him a path of fire and light
And so the big White Wolf howled in the night
And so the big White Wolf howled in the night
He kept singing this lika a mantra over and over, thinking in the meantime about what other details he should have been including, absentmindedly strolling on the chords with his fingers, oblivious for a moment to the growing crowd gathered around him.
A little girl approached him with wide blue eyes, her mom unsuccessfully trying to stop her daring figure. She couldn't be more than four. She placed her tiny hands on his left knee perched on his other leg, studied the instrument in his hands for a moment, then stated "Our King is the wolf right? Like the huge beast he commands? Have you seen him?"
"No my dear" answered Demiore "But I'll see him soon I'm sure, I'll see many strange things on my travel"
"You go with them then?? Can you tell me how it goes? What will happen?"
"If I'll still be around that is…then for sure my little dove" *poor honey, you'l have to leave your home too but you don`t know yet…*
"I'm no dove!"-she looked outraged-"I'm a warrior!" She looked at him with such a face, daring him to contradict her. He chuckled in disbelief. She then continued her questionary "But then' If the King is the Wolf then the Queen is the Moon right?? Yes, she is, they say she is so beautiful…"
Then after a second of deep toughts "but listen…isn't she a dragon? You should put that also in there, a dragon could fly to the wolf, and they could live happily. The moon is so far away…" he laughed hard then, that springy little girl arrived at his same conclusion.
"You know I was thinking the exact same thing my…warrior dove, you just wait and I'll find the perfect way to describe this"
She beamed at him so happily then, that his heart hurt from how much she resembled his little lost girl…