𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐎𝐍𝐄 | Ancestral home

{ Coren }

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𝕮oren Thorne did not believe in ghosts. Sea monsters that roamed the deep was a plausible theory, dragons was undeniably real for he normally had one that nipped at his fingers but ghosts? Ghosts were a stretch for him.

That was why, when he had entered the House of the Undying and seen what he could only assume was his father staring back at him, Coren had paled. 

His mother had often described the man to her two children, telling them of his kind nature, of his dark hair and darker eyes, of the way he held themselves and of how much Coren looked like him. When she become addled with fever, she would often call him by his father's name, reaching for her husband despite supposedly knowing that his father had been killed during Robert's Rebellion, fighting for the Targaryens.

The man held up a hand, beckoning Coren to follow, before turning on his heel and disappearing around the corner. It was not even a question of what he should do next.

Coren abandoned his queen, sprinting after the man and ignoring all shouts and calls for him to come back. He did not even care that he had ended up in the House of the Undying, his shoulders slamming into walls and almost tripping on stairs and dips in the sand beneath him.

"Wait." He tried calling out after the man. "Wait!"

The man would merely turn back to glance at him, before hurrying on. Coren let out a growl of annoyance, speeding up. There was a door ahead, yet it flung open at the sight of them and Coren hurried in. He skidded to a stop, looking around the chamber, doors across the walls ahead of him as he wondered where the man had gone.

A door creaked to the right, and Coren turned to hurry out of it, stumbling as he found himself in a cavern of sorts. The man was ahead of him, staring into a large gaping hole, pitch black and Coren turned towards him.

"What is going on?"

"Patience." The voice was smooth and deep, as the man rested a hand on his sword. He was dressed in armour, similar to Coren's, dark leather, with the symbol of House Thorne embedded in the leather. The sword had a hilt of silver, lodged with rubies and obsidian stone.

"Patience?" Coren cocked an eyebrow stepping closer. He reached the man's side, stepping ahead of him as the man looked down at him. His dark hair was somewhat shaggy, eyes cold and eyebrow cocked. "Who are you?"

"Who do you think I am?" He questioned.

"My father." Coren replied.

"Then you are wrong." He responded.

"My ancestor then!" Coren corrected. "You are a Thorne too, are you not?"

"I am."

"If not my father, who are you? I knew no other, I do not know the house history." The man shook his head, tutting as Coren's temper flared. "I do not understand then. Are you a ghost? A vision? Something conjured up by the warlock?"

"Something like that."

"That answers nothing!"

"Patience."

"No!" Coren spat back, stepping ahead of the man. "I will not be patient. I do not understand! Is this the gods playing me? If they were sending someone to torment me, why not my mother? Or my sister? I do not know who you are!"

"You do not know our history."

"Our house is dead! We have no history!"

"Our house is not dead. You are still here, are you not?" The man replied. "You are a Thorne. Our house is not dead so you should know our history."

"Enlighten me then." Coren hissed. "What should I know of our history? That we were the Targaryens loyal dogs, that being that ended up with our death, our ruin! My father died fighting in Robert's Rebellion. My mother and sister died on foreign soil because of choices made centuries before us. That is our history."

"Our history repeats itself." The man replied, calmly, which only served to infuriate Coren more. "Just as it does now."

"What does that mean?" Coren questioned, eyebrows furrowing as the man brushed past him, walking into the cavern. "What do you mean?"

The man continued, as Coren hurried to catch up with him. This ancestor of his was not listening and all he was doing was making Coren more confused. Why was everything so cryptic? What was going on?

"You are destined to repeat what has come before." The man called, as Coren struggled to catch up, the dark blinding him to all else that went on. "That is known."

"How can I repeat what has come before if I do not know what has come before?" Coren asked, as a door opened ahead of them and Coren hurried towards it, after the man. "I do not understand!"

The hall they were in was in ruins, the roof broken and braziers cold. Yet still, the man kept walking ahead of him. He hurried on, faintly hearing his name being called but Coren feared that if he looked away from the apparition of his ancestor, then the man would disappear and Coren would never get his answers. 

"Why will you not tell me what has happened?" Coren needed to know, he had to see what was to come, to know that he could change it. "What are you keeping from me?"

He hurried up the stairs and through a pair of doors.

"Be patient, nephew."

"Nephew?" Coren hurried forward as they appeared in another courtyard, this one intact but desolate. Coren stopped beside him, looking around the place and wondering if he was supposed to know where he was. "If you are sent to help, then you are failing miserably. I grew up in Essos, not Westeros. How am I supposed to know the history of our house? My mother was dead by the time I was nine, my sister when I was ten."

"You ride with another, someone older. Has he not told you of the history of House Thorne?"

"Jorah is from House Mormont. He would not know."

"I beg to differ. Our history is a long and proud one. It is well known." The man tilted his head. "Has he kept it from you? He is worried about what you will become when you know it. He is worried that you will become everything his wife's house feared us to be."

"His wife's house? Jorah is not married! What will I become?"

"What you are destined to be. A Thorne." The man turned to look at him. "He has limited you, made you to be weaker than you should. An influence outside of his own, I fear."

"I am not weak. I am a good fighter. Better than most."

"You should be better than all." The man corrected. "It is in your blood to be."

"House Thorne were not known for that."

"In recent years, our House had failed at it's duty. It grew weak, and sloppy, and lazy." The man spat to the side. "Our House was once renowned for producing the greatest fighters in all of Westeros, soldiers who were worth ten of any others, better than all else on the battle field and in combat, capable of great destruction. They feared us, trembled when we stepped up to fight. This recent generation is a stain on our name."

"That is my father you speak of."

"Who was struck down in battle like he was no less than a common soldier? That did not make sure that his children were prepared for war? That sent them from their house?"

"He protected us."

"He left us weak." The man growled, eyes flashing dangerously. "You will redeem this current age of House Thorne. You will make our house back into what I left behind. That is what you must do. You can no longer afford to be weak."

"I am not weak."

"All those years spent drinking and hiding from your responsibilities and fears, refusing to accept that you are Lord Thorne, that you have a duty to your house."

"We have no house! We have no home! I am in Essos, not Westeros!" Coren shouted, both men circling each other. Coren would not have someone he did not know standing and insulting him. "Alterwoode, our home, has most likely been razed and handed to some other lord."

"Then you will root him from our keep and burn him alive for daring to sit at our ancestral home." The man called back. "You will be weak no longer. You will do your duty, you will be all that I was, you will remind the bastards that House Thorne does not surrender or show mercy. You will be all that I hoped my sons would be."

They fell silent as the man watched him.

"Who are you?" Coren asked once more, as the man turned and continued to walk off. The younger Thorne growled in annoyance. "Tell me who you are!"

"I cannot."

"Tell me! Gods above, tell me who you are! A name, any name. How can I learn, how can I restore our house if I do not know what you made it in the first place!" Coren grasped onto the man, holding him in one place as he stared up at him. "Please. Please! There is no one who could tell me, so why will you not help me?"

The man's face softened.

"You look like my boy." He muttered, his hand touching Coren's cheek gently as Coren faltered. "They killed him, they killed all of my sons. Feared my lineage would burn the world through blood oaths."

"Blood oaths?"

"We would have." He agreed. "When you are done, you will be everything that I strived to be, that I wished my sons to be. You already have the advantage."

"What advantage? I am not even at Alterwoode. I do not know our history. I do not know what to do." Coren shook his head, staring up at the man. "Tell me what to do."

"You have a dragon, my boy." The man's eyes flashed. "But unlike my sons, your dragon will be bigger than all the rest. They will call it the Red Death, they will call you the dragon tamer."

"I do not want the name Red Death." Coren shook his head, paling at the thought of it.

"We do not often want the names we are given, but they were so for a reason. Just as you will be the Dragon Tamer, the restorer of our house, I was the Strangers Enforcer." Coren looked up at him, as the man smiled. "Names have power. Take strength in what you will be called, know that you will do what needs to be done, that you will repeat our history and restore our house."

"What happens if I do not want to?"

"The gods have chosen your path. They always do with us, especially when there is a Targaryen in play." The man stood taller, watching as Coren's eyes furrowed. "That is your destiny."

With that, the man was gone and Coren was left in a different room. Twisting and turning, he searched for the man, but there was no one there. A brazier was lit at one end, and Coren hurried towards it, his mind spinning as he hoped for a way out of all of this, wondering whether this was a trick from the warlock, meant to confuse him, place doubts in his minds about others.

As he reached the brazier, he found a chest awaiting him. Kneeling, Coren opened it, his heart dropping as he saw what was inside.

The silver sword stared back, rubies and obsidians on the hilt and as Coren pulled it free, he found it to be free of dust and grime, the blade sharp. Beneath it was a book, old and worn and Coren pulled it free and opened it, tracing the Thorne sigil that lay beneath it.

"Coren!" Closing the book, the man turned, finding Daenerys hurrying towards him, her dragons in her arms. "You are alright! I was calling and calling for you, but you did not respond."

"I apologise, Khaleesi, that was inappropria-"

"I am glad that you are alright." Daenerys' grabbed a hold of his hand, squeezing gently. She smiled in relief, as Falkor left her grasp, clambering onto Coren's hand. "Come, let us leave."

"Of course." Coren nodded, staring down at Falkor. The red dragon watched him with those golden eyes, his head tilting. "What do you do to be named the Red Death?"

Smoke curled from the dragon's nostrils and Coren hummed, following after his queen as he clutched the book and the sword. Now, he only needed answers.

Hiya,

This is a long one about what Coren was up to during the time that Dany was also in the House of the Undying and I can't lie, I love this chapter, because again, lots of little things. Coren's ancestor coming to speak with him was fun, and we also get a glimpse into what Falkor and Coren will become. I'm so hyped.

Let me know what you think,

Love Li xx