Ask ASoIaF: When Destinies Collide

[Varn Stone]

The foothills of the Mountains of the Moon were notorious for bandit and mountain clan activity. Varn had been hired as protection for a merchant and his lowborn mistress to cross the way past the trident and towards the riverlands. His wife, of course, was obliviously back in the Vale. It was none of Varn’s business, he would do his job as paid for. He seldom revealed that he was a warg, but an initial sweep before they set out as a raven had suggested the path was clear at least a few hours ago.

That changed rapidly as they went along their way and they were overrun with clansmen. While Varn was able to hold them off, one managed to stab the merchant in the chest. Of course, this meant that the sellsword was no longer bound to a contract. The clansmen appeared to see this and one of them grabbed the whimpering girl.

“Let us take her and we don’t have to fight,” The man called out to Varn.

Varn looked from the man, to the girl, to the man, and back to the girl. She was a nobody, had no coin to her name, was effectively a shadow. He looked across the three remaining men he would have to fight. He could take them, but did he really feel like it and was it worth it to him?

In the end, the sellsword shrugged as the woman screamed. The men dragged her off to do whatever with her. He ignored her screams as he walked over to grab some fruit left behind in the merchant’s wagon. This merchant had nothing but produce in his wares. He bit into an apple as he began to make his way back towards the Vale. It was a long journey, but at least he had his sellsword pay and some extra food for the way back.

The sun disappeared over the horizon and night would fall soon.

 

[Daros Thornclair]

Daros led the small party down the road, a few knights and archers on his flanks and rear as they patrolled. The Mountains of the Moon were home to many dangers, especially to an heir of a house. Still, he found a certain comfort as he felt the muscles of his horse stretch and contract, the wind softly blowing through his raven hair. Outside the castle, everything was simple. Either someone wanted to kill you, help, or want nothing to do with you and he could work with that.

Inside the castle was another story. Words were covered with honey and intentions were cloaked in darkness until it was too late. One threat could be speaking to you with a smile on their lips and he despised it. Especially after the discovery of his bastard child, it had become even more prevalent to Daros and he sought every opportunity he could to patrol and avoid rumors about him.

While normally, he would have preferred to be alone, there was no way that could happen given his status. As a result, it usually left him in charge of small patrol parties but really his bodyguards. It was another typical day until screams echoed through the rocks, a high-pitched one filled to the brim with terror. With a quick glance to his fellow riders, Daros would flick the reigns before they all took off and followed.

As the sun began to set, Varn would hear the sound of hoofbeats before he saw Daros and six other riders approach. At first, the Heir's eyes resided on Varn, the cart, and then the dead merchant. The fruits would be spilled onto the road and he would also see one in the man's hand, a bloody sword in the other. He arrived at one conclusion.

One order was given, "Restrain him!" Three of the riders would produce their bows, knocking their arrows as they aimed at Varn. The other three would draw their swords and dismount to form a half-circle around him. Daros remained in front of the bastard a respectable distance, one of his own swords drawn as well.

 

[Varn Stone]

Varn took a few swigs from a bottle he nabbed from the wagon. Whatever this was, it hit him at once. He looked at the bottle, but he couldn’t read what the hell it said. Varn simply shrugged and drank more, humming off key to himself as he strode down the path. Of course, this meant he didn’t hear the hooves or the approach of a small retinue. The drink was addling his mind already, and he looked up just in time to see the Thornclair banners. Fuck.

Of course it’d be his luck to come across Daros fucking Thornclair himself and his merry band of prissy idiots. Varn took another swig from his bottle before carefully stashing it on his hip. He held his hands up to show he meant no harm. All his weapons remained untouched.

His gaze remained trained on Thornclair, but he could hear some rustling around him. Were those mountain folks gone yet? The woman from earlier had stopped screaming. She was either dead or had been muffled and taken away. Varn knew this looked bad, but he trusted in his ability to talk himself out of it.

 

[Daros Thornclair]

It appeared the merchant had been killed for simple fruits and alcohol. Daros had seen worse for less and wasn't surprised, especially with his regular enemies being the Mountain Clans. Dismounting from his horse, he took a few steps forward toward the bandit, his right sword drawn and in hand but the left remaining in its sheath.

Once more, he scanned the scene that lay in front of him. The evidence was overwhelming, the goods in the man's hand, the dead merchant, the bloody clothing, it all pointed to him. But upon being closer, he wasn't dressed like a typical mountain clan bandit and he had his hands above and away from his weapons. If this had been a normal mountain folk, he would have already charged at the heir with bloodlust in his heart.

Daros was about to speak before he heard the rustling, his head twisting slightly to get a better look in his periphery. As far as he knew, the wreckage was caused by one man and he chalked up to what he heard being the wind. Two of the guards would approach and grab onto Varn's arms, the other standing nearby at the ready.

Returning his attention to Varn carefully, the sword in Daros' hand was lifted until the tip pointed at the man's chest. "Justice is swift in the Vale, as is my sword. Explain yourself quickly." If Varn had spent time in the region, he would have eventually heard of him and that he spoke no lies about his skill with the blade.

 

[Varn Stone]

Varn had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Despite his reservations, he knew how to keep his head firmly intact above his shoulders. He didn’t resist as he was physically grabbed, but his eyes didn’t lower to look at the blade pointed at him. Instead he looked directly at Daros. As expected the man’s hair was perfectly tamed, his clothing neatly tailored, nothing out of place. He even smelled of fresh linens and perfumed oils. Varn couldn’t recall when he last had a proper bath.

“I was hired to ferry the merchant and his wares through the road,” Varn explained as requested, “We were overrun by clansmen. They killed the merchant. Clansmen saw me stop fighting as soon as they killed him and they left me be. My contract is void if my client is killed,” He said with a vague shrug. Contracts were contracts. Even a noble like Daros could understand that, “Merchant was too fat to carry, so I started walking back.”

If they looked, they would indeed note the merchant was at least twice Varn’s size and grotesquely rotund. It would have been foolish for Varn to waste time trying to lug him all the way back when the path was dotted with clansmen.

“Should I have surrendered my life for absolutely no reason instead?” Varn asked flatly, quirking a brow. If he was going to be executed for saving his skin after a hopeless situation, then so be it.

 

[Daros Thornclair]

The bandit's gaze would find Daros' unflinching while they locked. The heir expected himself to be cursed at, spat at, or maybe lunged at but none of that came. Instead, the man spoke calmly and evenly, explaining what happened and not at all fazed, his accent unique. Upon the shrug of the man's shoulders, no disagreement could be found as the words Varn spoke were true about the contract being void upon death. The man certainly didn't hail from a Mountain clan.

Being asked a question, silence would fill between the two as Daros would finally and ultimately break the staring contest between them as he scanned the wreckage once more. There was no reason to provide the man an answer, instead, he wanted to get to the bottom of this, "Pull out his sword."

The soldier glanced at Varn before reaching down to his weapon and pulling it free from its scabbard. Letting out a zing, the man would hold the weapon up to the light. To Daros' surprise, it wasn't bloodied and added proof to the claim that the act hadn't been committed by him. Justice was swift in the Vale but it was also fair, at least by Daros' hand. With a sort of diagonal nod given by him, the soldier would place the weapon back into the scabbard before both of them stepped back.

Daros lowered his sword, having no reason to hold the man anymore. But, it still seemed he knew what transpired, "Where did th-" before the sentence could be finished, an arrow zipped through the air and struck the throat of the knight right beside Varn. Blood spurted out as the man tried to speak before he simply collapsed. Another arrow came in after, striking one of the archers on the horse before he fell over with a loud thud.

Daros would stumble back a few steps, surprise filling his face as he believed it was a trap. Before he could turn his fury on Varn for falling for it, a blood-curdling scream would be let out in unison from beyond the trees. Branches and bushes would split as clansmen charged fourth, axes and swords in hand. Immediately forgetting about him, Daros would turn right-face, drawing out his second sword as he prepared for battle.

 

[Varn Stone]

Varn’s jaw tightened as his blade was pulled out as if it didn’t belong to him. The Dothraki in him wanted nothing more than to snatch it back and lob the head of the man that did it right off his shoulders. Once again he found himself despising ever leaving the country - he lived in a man’s world and he commanded whatever rules he pleased. Now he was subjected to the whims of some royal shitstain that probably did all this to feel important.

Before they could continue the agonizing exchange, arrows began to whizz through the air. Varn ducked low, cursing under his breath. He saw Thornclair’s men get cut down rapidly and he half considered simply running away. The clansmen could take the idiot royal and he’d be on his merry way. It certainly served him right for antagonizing him.

However, he thought of the perks he could potentially achieve if Daros was indebted to him. He seemed like one of those prissy honor bound types. Without a second thought, Varn sprang into action as he drew out his crossbow, placing a bolt and aiming. He landed a bolt square between the eyes on one of the leaders right as they were aiming for Daros. Varn was able to pick a few more of the archers off before the clansmen rushed them in a wave.

The half Dothraki put the crossbow away and drew out his blade, practically back to back with the royal as he engaged. The clash of steel and the grunts of men erupted all around as they were surrounded on multiple fronts. Varn was a blur of motions, rolling on the ground before springing up to slash at the backs of legs or necks.

A quick glance around showed even more of the cavalry falling as the horses panicked and ran in different directions. Varn grimaced, “By the gods, do none of your men know to fight?!” He called out angrily to Daros, his tone half filled with disbelief and rage.

 

[Daros Thornclair]

Daros lost track of the man he apprehended as he completely focused on the new threat crashing down on them like a wave. As Varn ducked and debated whether to stay or not, the heir charged forward, gleaming steel swords in hand as he let out a guttural scream. The challenge would be taken head-on, the blood within his veins boiling from the sight of the clansmen and fueling his actions.

Two mountain folk approached him while screaming, a battle-ax wielded by both of them. They both came at slightly different angles and Daros went for one first. He took a step to the left as the man across from him committed to an overhead strike, cleanly getting out of the way. With ease, he swung the sword in his right hand in a wide circle that met the ax in the air before directing it to the side. It opened the stomach and Daros sized the opportunity, his left blade piercing through the fabric before a kick followed as the clansmen would fall back into the other and knock them both into the ground.

Daros was about to slice the head off one before movement caught his eye. His head snapped up and saw at the last second an archer aimed at him. The revelation startled him as he expected an arrow to be lodged in his throat but instead, the opposite happened, an arrow going into the archer's throat. The heir's head snapped to where it came from before he spotted Varn. Before anything could be said, one of the clansmen on the ground had gotten up and swung at the heir, Daros hearing it the last second and able to deflect with his blade.

The force made him stumble into Varn's back, the two covering each other's flanks as a knight took on the man. Daros, regrettably, agreed with Varn's assessment. They weren't Thornclair's veterans. "They were about to practice with you!" At least before they knew his innocence. From his side, Daros saw a pair of archers aim and he dropped his sword before reaching back and taking Varn to the ground with him.

They had a small window and Daros glanced over before shouting, "You take care of the archers, I watch your back!" Without waiting, he snatched his dropped sword and rolled away to take on an approaching clansman.