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A song of the Storm of Ice and Fire

Summary:

Ysmir, the storm crown has sailed toward Westeros across the globe. Oh wait that's me, yeah... I don't need to go over what happened in Tamriel. Basically it was like living throughout a modded Skyrim on hardcore with everything scaled to it being like real life. Now I am in Westeros caught in its stupid game. But hey, I can go my own route now.

Chapter 1: The Dragon Awakens In Winter

Chapter Text

Eyes snapping wide open, eyes holding his head as a pair of indigo eyes with hair as white as snow stared into the ceiling. Rising he winced as his torso was barely and wrapped in bandages and heard the sound of a door creaking open. He looked up and saw a man with a long face and long brown hair. His closely-trimmed beard is beginning to grey, making him look older than his thirty-five years. His dark grey eyes could easily reflect his moods. But the young man could tell the man has heart under the solemn face, a face that has seen many and knows pain. 

He was wearing linen tunic, a belt belt of heavy silver links. With dark trousers with a coat that is fine white velvet with a direwolf badge over the heart. And a pair of boots made for the cold. At his hip was a simple sword and strapped to his boot was a knife. With him was a simple woman with pale brown hair and pale hazel eyes dressed as a chambermaid, but what got him was the young girl beside him. She had dark wavy brown hair with smoky quartz eyes.

The young man winced and said: “Easy their lad, your wound will rear open." 

“Not like I hadn't had it worse…" he replied and winced before raising his hand and saw it was bandaged as well.

Unwrapping it he then asked: “Where am I, last thing I remember was killing some bandits?" 

“You are in Winterfell, the Capital of the North of Westeros, but who are you? I have never seen you around these parts?" Said the man as the chambermaid began to remove the old bandages and apply clean ones and the young man said: “Tyrael Septum, I came from a land to the far northern point.”

This called all of them to freeze and the long faced man then said: “You're a wildling." 

Pausing and looking at him weirdly he then said realizing: “Oh, you mean those tribal men known as the Northern Freefolk, nope not one of them… I'm from a land beyond that. There's an ocean where I landed after a storm and traveled south by foot, till I reached that giant ice wall and climbed it. Pretty difficult though, not really a challenge.”

*Lands beyond the far north?" Asked the girl with the man who was still captivating in the young man's eyes.

Nodding his head he said: “Though the pinnacle would be Atmora, the grand Ancestral home to most man, long ago it was teeming with life, but has since been frozen over in an event dubbed "the Frostfall", smothering it with frost, placing it in a permanent winter, and potentially even freezing it in time. Many tribes began to scatter, some tattered journals describe small groups heading this way, it seems it was true. Though the land was not without dangers from the wildlife to other dangers.” He said he noticed his amulet hanging from a cord and grabbed it. It was a Skaal Amulet, a gift from his friend.

The man then said: "Your words, I sense to be true. I am Eddard Stark and this is Joanna Snow, my eldest daughter.”

" Pleasure, where are my things might I ask?” Asked the young man.

“In the armory for safety, I am guessing the items are from lands far beyond ours?" Asked Eddard.

“Aye, many lands and kingdoms, though bigotry and discrimination are plentiful. Very few places show true welcome by a hearth as did the tribe who took me in when I was only a small bae when they found me." Said the young man who winced and said: “By the nine…” the northerners blinked and must've figured it was a religious thing.

Days passed and Tyrael who was discharged from bed rest had met the rest of the Stark family from his wife to his youngest. Though Joanna was a bastard and Eddard's wife Cattleya mistreated her. Though he befriended the Stark children he was closer to Joanna as he told her and her sisters about Tamriel and its history. But when Lady Stark asked about the religion. He had said: “Well there are many gods to worship, some like the nine who are commonly worshiped in the provinces of Tamriel. Though in cultures the divines go by other names. For the chief amongst them is Akatosh, to the elves he is known as Auri-El God of the sun, to the dragons he is known as Borhmau or father, to an ancient tribe of man he was known as the great dragon of time, and to the Khajiit he was known as Alkosh. He is the embodiment of endurance, invincibility, and everlasting legitimacy while promoting the virtues of duty, service, and obedience. He is mostly described by many as a dragon made of golden fire or holy fire.”

The look he received was concerning, he continued saying: " Then they're is Arkay, known as the Lord of the Wheel of Life.God of the Cycle of Life and Death, Light of Lights, the Bringer of Light, and the Lord of seasons. He is the god of burials and funeral rites, and is generally associated with cyclical occasions, such as the seasons and life/death.”

Hearing that seemed to have shifted their moods away and he said: “Then we have Dibella, also known as the Passion Dancer, Our Blessed Lady, simply, the Lady, is the Goddess of Beauty, Live, Affection, as well as the Lady of Art and Music. She is the embodiment of beauty and teaches mortals to seek truth through beauty and worship.Those who follow the teachings of Dibella, and propagate beauty and promote harmony, are granted charm and grace. Most of her temples are filled with only women. Though she has a Sybil, a moral she speaks through to her people, a child would be chosen to take upon the ceremony only those of the temple know of.”

Sansa Stark who was a beautiful young girl resembling her mother. She has deep blue eyes and thick, soft auburn hair. With fine high cheekbones would grow tall, graceful and womanly. He then said: “Though her arts also lean toward the erotic nature… festivals hosted by them kinda get way to debut for the young ears.”

Blushes were seen but Tyrael coughed and said: “Next is Julianos, god of wisdom and logic. The one governing the realms of literature, law, history, and contradiction. He is usually associated with magic, and thus is often revered by wizards.”

Bran Stark who was a young man with thick auburn hair and deep blue eyes who had the look of an adventure seeker in his eyes. He then said: *Magic?”

" Aye, though I don't know here, but in Tamriel from all its provinces many mages live there. Some embrace the magic of nature and live amongst it, others study magic and seek to study the heavens, while others… reanimate the dead willingly and cause… issues for others.” Said Tyrael.

He heard someone whisper: " White Walker…" Tyrael then said:;”If you mean reanimate corpses they're are various types, some like liches sought out immortality through dark methods, the reanimate varies from those cursed to rise from the dead for doing horrendous acts or someone using magic. But not all magic is evil, there is alteration that affects the area around them from making oneself light, faster, stronger, sturdier or resistant to the elements, even to breathe under or walk on water.”

He raised his hand and in a flash of light an aura surrounded him giving him stone-like texture and he said: "This is a simple spell known as Stone flesh, it coats your flesh and attire in a magical coat that is hard as a common stone.”

The Stark children were awed by the display. The aura vanished and he said: “Next is conjuration. Though Necromancers commonly follow this school of magic, there are also aspects to this from teleporting a.comrade to you, conjuration weapons and armor magic of solid magic for a brief moment, or to even temporarily banish demons and the undead.”

Everyone nodded and he then said: "Next is destruction, the magic school of using elements for com at or to weaken a foe such as causing them physical or mentally fatigue. One of the most commonly studied as Tamriel is filled with dangers and a sword is not always a weapon to rely on.”

He snapped his fingers and a small flame appeared on the tip of his thumb captivating the children and Eddard saw Joanna eyed the flame intensely. Next he said: “Next is not a physical use to magic, but more of a enhancement like alteration known as Enchanting by giving an object a perk such as wounds on a foe either burn, freeze or shock intensely or you feel more exhausted with every hit for weapons or to enhance your armor to make it stronger and make yourself resistant to the elements, poison or even diseases." 

This surprised the family such a thing was possible and he then pulled out a ring that had a mystical shin, the ring was pale gray with dark accents and a strange icy blue gem on it and he said: “This is my enchanted ring, it is difficult for more than two enchantments to be placed on an object without destroying it and harming yourself. This ring I call Cold shadow helps you become resistant to extreme coldness and allows you to be more stealthy while hiding as it releases specks of magic to dull one who is searching for your senses." 

Pocketing the item he then said: " Next is the one I'm a master in, Restoration. Healing magic, and you can guess it's mainly used to heal the injured and cure the sickly. Though depending on how severe the wound or disease is, it will take time. Restoration also has offensive spells against the undead that allows one to conjure holy light to harm the undead.”

Cattleya blinked and her youngest daughter Arya who had her father's long face, grey eyes and brown hair. She is skinny and athletic who's eyes sparkled with anticipation. He then said: “Last is Illusion magic, used to disrupt and confuse someone. If used correctly you can either end a war or start one by causing a crowd to absolutely go crazy or pacify them. This school was always seen as a gray area as the one casting it must be mentally stronger in the mind for it to affect someone. If that person is stronger then it will fail.”

"So it's not as grander as the others?” Said Cattleya before she said: " What of the other gods of your religion.”

" Ah yes, next is one of my favorites. Like Akatosh she goes by name names. Kynareth or some who call her Kyne, Khenarthi or Tava is the goddess of the heavens, the winds, the sea, the elements, and the unseen spirits of the air. She is also the patron of sailors and travelers with good fortune in life. To some of the northern folks of Tamriel she is the wife of the God Shor who led the first men in the war of freedom against humanities enslavers. But even gods died as death, he built a hall for those who died valiantly to come to drink, eat and share tales of they're adventures, it is known as Sovengarde. But that is a whole nother tale.” Said Tyrael when he stopped himself about Shor and decided to get back.

Accepting this Tyrael then said: " Next is Mara, the Mother Goddess. Many call her Mother Mara, Mother Wolf, Mother Mild, the Divine Mother as she is the goddess of love like Dibella who takes on the others is of love. Mara I also the goddess of feritly, agriculture and compassion. She provides over all marriage ceremonies, befitting her ancient origins as a fertility goddess. Though Dibella handles the love one have for another as a couple, Mara handles the side of love for bonds through struggle and family. “

The Starks nodded and Tyrael then said: " Next we have Stendarr, Stendarr the Steadfast. The God of Mercy, Charity, Luck and Justice. He is also the acclaimed God of Compassion, and Righteous Rule by Might and Merciful Forbearance. He was called Stuhn, S’rendarr, as his name and titles suggested it's not simple manor of not knowing of what he represents. Though he has an order known as the Vigilante of Stendarr who hunt down and kill monsters and worshippers of the wrong sort, though at times they have gotten on the wrong side of the law believing one religious practice was another.”

He then showed eight fingers and said: “Now we are on the eighth, Zenithar, the trader god. Zenithar is the God of Work and Commerce, the Provider of our Ease. Zenithar is considered a more cultivated god of merchants and middle nobility, being the deity of wealth, labor, commerce, communication and community who represent that hard work and honest in business ventures is more prophetable than violence or deceit. Haven't met anyone who uses violence and deceit for business not get off easy. As the saying goes: “What comes around goes around back to you" meaning karma is coming.”

" So who is the ninth.” Asked Robb Stark who looked serious had blue eyes and thick reddish brown hairwhonloiked stronger for his age.

“That is a matter of prospective really some say they're is no Nineth, others say their is and so do the divines using their agents. But politics will try to deny this over a peace treaty that greedious fools desires and from an emperor who had no choice but to put his people life over religion. The Nineth who myself and many is Talis, who was like you or eye, a normal simple man. He was known as the mortal Tiber Septim. who conquered all of Tamriel and founded the Third Empire, ushering in the Third Era. Who was a compassionate, honest, just, kind who sought to unite all of Tamriel providences under one banner as war was also practically a monthly thing over petty things to serious matters. But he blessed by Akatosh to have the dragon blood and chosen to be the one lead the new Empire that would stand for generations for four hundred years the Septim dynasty had been strong Emperors an Empresses. Though the family like any other had their issues. But two hundred years ago legions of demons emerged and the Septum dynasty was all assassinated but one. A bastard son who was kept in hiding who became a priest and with his sacrifice the demons were casted out and could not ever cause an invasion like that again.”

This surprised many and Joanna looked on in shock and TyrAel said: "Tiber Septim or as his godly name Talos. Who is also called the King of Earth and Sky, Dragon of the North, the Dragon Prince, the Most High, and Lord of Shining Hosts. Is a hero-god, is the God of Law, Civilization and Righteousness. But also the patron to Adventurers, warriors, battle and tactics. Though our religion may seem hard in ways we do have Commandments of the Divines. The first is: Be kind and generous to the people of Tamriel. Protect the weak, heal the sick, and give to the needy. As the second is: Honor the earth, its creatures, and the spirits, living and dead. Guard and tend the bounties of the mortal world, and do not profane the spirits of the dead. Then the third: Live soberly and peacefully. Honor your parents, and preserve the peace and security of home and family. An then the fourth: Work hard, and you will be rewarded. Spend wisely, and you will be comfortable. Never steal, or you will be punished. Then we have the sixth: Be strong for war. Be bold against enemies and evil, and defend the people. Then the seventh: Use Nature's gifts wisely. Respect her power, and fear her fury. And the eighth: Open your heart to the noble secrets of art and love. Treasure the gifts of friendship. Seek joy and inspiration in the mysteries of love. An the Nineth: Serve and obey your leader. Study the Covenants. Worship the Nine, do your duty, and heed the commands of the saints and priests. An lastly: Above all else, be good to one another.”

Ever since he told him about the religion they wanted to know more about his homeland. He decided about Skyrim as that as his native land. He stood in the training yard and was practicing his bow shots when Arya Lady Stark, and Stansa walked up to him with Joanna behind themm and Arya asked: “Hey Tyrael, can you help us with something?”

"Sure, what is it?” He replied shooting dead center without looking at the bullseye surprising the girls as his eyes never left them.

“Mom believes I and most women should be more traditional and focus on feminine activities like needlework and embroidery.” Said Arya causing Tyrael to pause in snort and start horsing out in laughter and start patting his knee hard and held a finger up till he got it out of his system and said: “Oh man, hadn't laugh like that in a while. But honestly, a sole focus of woman is to be what she needs to be. In some tamrelic.cultures mostly in Cyrodil yes they are like your mother, but they are also easily captured, killed and raped by bandits and such. Most noble family's have their daughters at last learn to defend themselves and act accordingly when in front of others. In High rock, it's worse. Females of noble standing a practically nothing more than trophies and constantly ignored by their husbands and family.”

The girls flinched hearing this he then said: "Though the Summer set Isles females are generally balanced to being feminine and warriors, even politicians of high standing. In Elsywer it's more confusing, Skyrim females are general like most of the North here, sure they know how to sew, but they are also mostly shopkeepers selling goods or mercenaries who are also keeping their equipment in check. Morrowind is just neutral about what is feminine and what's not, Black Marah I have no clue. Valenwood is also something I have no clue about. So.aorry for saying this Mi'lady. But I am one to encourage your daughter Arya to take up learning at least how to defend herself so she knows how to be safe if she does not have anyone with here.”

Cattleya frowned before saying: “Perhaps, but…” she then heard Sansa say: " Mother… Id at least like to learn how to protect myself. Ser Tyrael is correct mother…” the Lady of the North froze hearing this, but she saw the fear in her daughter's eyes, the fear of awaited any woman if held captive and she looked to Joanna harshly and said: “You, snow… you and Ser Tyrael are to train my daughters only in self-defense… nothing more.”

The two bowed and said: "Yes, Mi'lady." 

As she walked off, Arya hugged him and kept saying thank you. He began petting her head and he then said: “If we're gonna teach you, best find you a weapon that suits you. Anyone can pick up a weapon and use it, but someone who finds the right weapon can become a master with the right amount of training, experience and time." 

The sisters nodded and they training began. In his solar, Lord Stark was just told about some self-defense training for his daughters and he smiled. Seems his youngest daughter finally got what she wanted, he hope this would help unite the pack. That night after a hot soak, the sisters laid exhausted as Joanna and him walked out of the library and she said: “I still find it hard to believe that our cultures have the same form of language.”

" Not really. Technically we are humans after all. So how was bonding with your sisters, and don't give me that bastard crap.” He said seriously.

She paused and muttered: " It was nice, though Sansa…" he then said: “Give it time Joanna, things fade and heal in time. All you can do know is be there and guide them." She nodded and asked: “By the way, you never mentioned your age." 

“You would call it five and ten name days, but we call it fifteen years old my dear." She paused and he had told them while he was in bed rest how he was technically a nobleman, a thane is considered to be a Viscount. But him being a Viscount to all hold of the land of skyrim practically makes a count in the court of the King/Queen.

He was also a member of the Imperial Legion, A Knight. Her father said that his eyes had seen war and horrors that most men never recover from and she believed him.

Joanna asked: “Tyrael, do you think about leaving it all behind?" 

“What do you mean?" He asked with a raised brow.

“I am thinking about joining the Watch.” She said.

" Are you mad, there is a rule against that because the watch raped the only girl who would join. They check to see if your the actual gender.” He said in shock and outrage by it.

"I know, but I… I don't belong here." She said seriously.

He sighed and said: “Look Joanna, if you want to join, you would be miserable. Joining something like that, will break you down and put something worse in your place. I… I've been there and nearly broke. You'll do things your not proud of and will constantly despised yourself for the end of your days. An what about Arya? She looks up to you, are you just going to abandoned her?*

She remained silent and they stopped before her chamber and he put a hand on her shoulder and said: “Think about it and weight what can go right and wrong before making a choice." 

She nodded and he walked away heading for his room. Entering the chamber he sighed and took a seat on the bed as the fire in the hearth shines the only light in the room. But then everything around him turned gray and a he felt a presence behind him as a voice said: “So you have arrived." 

“Yes I have, has the order discovered who one side of Nirn is practically losing its connection to the Aether?" Asked Tyrael serious.

"Partial… part of it we have traced it to the White Walkers created by the Children of the Forest." Said the person behind him.

“I'll contact you all if I find something, keep me posted." He said and soon color returned around him and he sighed and laid back and looked exhausted.

If he didn't have his hair color he would already have gray hair. Chuckling dryly he turned and sighed.

 

Yeah, that is what happened to me. If you guessed it, my name Tyrael Septum.. yeah, I'm the last Dragonborn. Age fifteen and reincarnated as the Skyrim Protagonist and thrusted into Westeros/Essos situation. Not like I have much of a choice, though I can run freely. For I am a dragon and yet I know things, for how I can play my knowledge off if it gets discovered. Let's just say I have a bound contract in my favor.” Said the voice of Tyrael as he reminisced upon his early days of that day.

(Harem List)

1. Westeros/Essos Girls

Daenerys Targaryen

Joanna Snow/??? (hair and eyes are as described)

Sansa Stark

Arya Stark

Myrcella Baratheon

Margery Tyrell

Ceresin Lannister

Ygritte

 

2. Tamriel Girls (to be added)

Chapter 2: The Pack of Wolves

Summary:

A simple task is met with a omen of the future and yet, from that omen a bleak light shines on the future.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Within his chambers sat Tyrael as he was cleaning his weaponry. In his hand was a bow made from a dullish golden accent on a greenish gray alloy that resembled faces. He was in the process of cleaning the string and the bow as well as tightening it if need be. The bow gave off a magical sheen to it. By the bed was a quiver made from the same alloy as the bow and inside of it was arrows with tips made from the same allow and had hawk feathers. 

Testing the tensile strength he nodded in approval. At his bedside was the sword that belonged to only three people who were called Ysmir like himself, a blade of abnormal design with Dovahzul etched into the blade spine with a dragon shaped like a diamond as the sword had a mystical sheen to it. This sword was known as “Zahkrii do Kruziik vun” or the " Sword of Ancient Tongues. A sword forged from Adamantium enchanted to enhance his unique gift, has a fifty percent chance of doing fire, frost or shock damage. Can cause sun damage onto the undead, harm dragons as well as practically ignored armor defenses by half as durable it is. A knock was heard and he said: “Enter." 

The door opened with a long squeak he looked up and before grabbing his sword and began cleaning it as entering the room wearing a silk white gown was Sanaa with her hair let down and he asked: “Ah Sansa, you're up late at this hour." 

“Father asked me to remind you he, Robb, him, Joanna and Bran are heading out at dawn and knew you wanted to accompany them.” She said: " Yes, that's correct, you don't sound pleased… why is that? Afraid I'm to close to your elder sister.”

He smirked with his tone full of jest, but Sansa huffed and said: " Don't Jest Sir Septum, it's unbecoming a man of your station.”

Tyrael snorted and said: " My mentor told me, don't be serious all the time, otherwise you may never find peace. So scuse me for trying to liven the mood, but you really didn't deny it, “

She looked away with a huff but a shadow soon loomed over her and she squeaked seeing he was above her and she wondered how he always snuck up on them. He then said: " You need to be sharped little wolf. Lest someone would take an advantage of you." 

Sansa looked down and said: “Ser Septum… do you think it's silly of me to think about knightly and courtly love.”

Pausing he held up a finger and dropped it before looking away as she soon had a down trodden expression but her face was lifted up and he said: " To an extent yes, but you have to pick and choose wisely Sansa. Most knights serve master who are dark and vile and those knights become or are vile and tainted. Nobleman and woman where mask in the public to hide their true intentions. But your father wears his true face, he is a noble and honest man as is many in his service. Just… choose wisely.”

She nodded and hugged him, returning the notion she left go and left. Soon Arya came in and wore a similar gown and said: " My sister is off her rocker.”

"No, she's just trying to see goodness in the world. So what can I do for you?” He asked.

She looked at him and walked past him and sat on his bed and said: “Tell me a story…” he then asked: " An prag to the gods what do I get for doing such a simple deed to a fair maiden of the north.”

Both snorted before laughing and he smacked his leg as she clutched her sides. Soon they grew quiet and she then said fluttering her eyes: “Maybe Inshallah give you a kiss for your services." 

He soon loomed over her and smiled suave and leaned down and whispered into her ear and whispered: “Oh, is that all… you seem to want more.”

She shuddered and gained a blush on her face as she looked away and he chuckled before rubbing her scalp and took off his shirt and pants showing he wore what he call shorts underneath that were like normal clothing yet seemed like small clothing. Joining her in the bed she climbed under the blankets and rested her head on his chest and said: "Tell me something cool peasent.”

He chuckled and said: " How about I tell you about the Dawnguard… the Dawnguard are an order of Vampire Hunters who…” as he told her about the Dawnguard and his interaction with a member who ventured on the front lines and they faced vampires of various clans.

Arya drifted off to sleep as he was getting into about the Moth Priest and he smiled and brought a think linen blanket over him and drifted off to sleep. Arya unintentionally whispered: “No Sansa he's my husband…” cracking an eye open weakly he grabbed the hilt of his sword by the bedside and rested his fingers on the pommel.

As the morning had dawned clear and cold, with a crispness that hinted at the end of summer. They set forth at daybreak to see a man beheaded, twenty-one in all, and Bran rode among them, nervous with excitement but he kept glancing around trying to mimic them. This was the first time he had been deemed old enough to go with his lord father and his siblings to see the king's justice done. It was the ninth year of summer, and the tenth of Bran's life. The man had been taken outside a small holdfast in the hills. Robb thought he was a wildling, his sword sworn to Mance Rayder, the King-beyond-the-Wall. It made Bran's skin prickle to think of it. He remembered the hearth tales Old Nan told them. 

The wildlings were cruel men, she said, slavers and slayers and thieves. They consorted with giants and ghouls, stole girl children in the dead of night, and drank blood from polished horns. And their women lay with the Others in the Long Night to sire terrible half-human children. But the man they found bound hand and foot to the holdfast wall awaiting the king's justice was old and scrawny, not much taller than Robb. He had lost both ears and a finger to frostbite, and he dressed all in black, the same as a brother of the Night's Watch, except that his furs were ragged and greasy. Bran looked upon the person with a solemnly expression that some form of sympathy.

The breath of man and horse mingled, steaming, in the cold morning air as his lord father had the man cut down from the wall and dragged before them. Robb and Joana sat tall and still on their horses, with Bran between them on his pony, trying to seem older than ten, trying to pretend that he'd seen all this before. A faint wind blew through the holdfast gate. Over their heads flapped the banner of the Starks of Winterfell: a grey direwolf racing across an ice-white field. Bran's father sat solemnly on his horse, long brown hair stirring in the wind. His closely trimmed beard was shot with white, making him look older than his thirty-five years. He had a grim cast to his grey eyes this day, and he seemed not at all the man who would sit before the fire in the evening and talk softly of the age of heroes and the children of the forest.

Bran saw Tyrael on a reddish brown horse that looked to be almost as tall as a warhorse but yet was built for battle and speed. He called the horse Epona, he said he'd teleport her from one of his stables in Tamriel as she was a unique bred of horse for messages and combat. Epona hoof stomped the ground as Bran saw his Father's face, Bran thought, and donned the face of Lord Stark of Winterfell. There were questions asked and answers given there in the chill of morning, but afterward Bran could not recall much of what had been said. Finally his lord father gave a command, and two of his guardsmen dragged the ragged man to the ironwood stump in the center of the square. They forced his head down onto the hard black wood.

As the man, Will who told them why he feld and the look in his eyes did not betray his story and Eddard looked upon Tyrael and asked: “Tyrael, you've crossed the North and climbed the wall. Have you seen what he saw…” Will looked at Tyrael who garbed in what he called the clothing of the Skaal wore and said: " I had seen many things while traveling toward the wall, and I had seen silhouetted that one of my spells that allows me to see the dead moving. I do believe him, there is danger and it has many faces, many forms Lord Stark. But if what he says is true then the Draugr… sorry, White Walkers have killed his squad.”

Eddard Stark nodded and Tyrael said: “He should be offer one last meal Lord Stark, though he brole his oath and fled… he at least deserves the right of a final meal. Before seeing and judge by the gods.”

Eddard nodded and Tyrael dismount and grabbed from his saddle bag as cjlinder and came over and unscrew it and he said: “Drink, it's stew with a bit of Ale…” he had whispered the last bit to th deserter who took it barely holding it and had tears in his eyes from the act of kindness.

As he finished the soup he then looked to Lord Stark and said: “I know I broke my oath. I know I'm a deserter. I should have gone back to the Wall and warned them, but... I saw what I saw... I saw the White Walkers.”

Feeling a hand on his soldier he then said: " You have nothing to worry now… it's time." 

Escorting the deserter to to the stump and helped him kneel. He nodded to everyone and joined the group as the Lord Eddard Stark dismounted and his ward Theon Greyjoy brought forth the sword. "Ice," that sword was called. It was as wide across as a man's hand, and taller even than Robb. The blade was Valyrian steel, spell-forged and dark as smoke. Nothing held an edge like Valyrian steel. Bran watched as his father peeled off his gloves and handed them to Jory Cassel, the captain of his household guard. He took hold of Ice with both hands and said, "In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, the First of his Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, by the word of Eddard of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, I do sentence you to die." 

He lifted the greatsword high above his head. Bran moved closer to Joanna who whispered: “Keep the pony well in hand, And don't look away. Father will know if you do.”

Bran kept his pony well in hand, and did not look away. His father took off the man's head with a single sure stroke. Blood sprayed out across the snow, as red as surnmerwine. One of the horses reared and had to be restrained to keep from bolting. Bran could not take his eyes off the blood. The snows around the stump drank it eagerly, reddening as he watched. The head bounced off a thick root and rolled. It came up near Greyjoy's feet. Theon was a lean, dark youth of nineteen who found everything amusing. He laughed, put his boot on the head, and kicked it away. But it stopped in midair and floated back to the corpse and rested at the foot of the stump and Tyrael said: “Just because he was a deserter doesn't make him a toy Greyjoy. Respect the deceased even if he is or was a member of the watch." 

"Ass," Jon muttered, low enough so Greyjoy did not hear. She put a hand on Bran's shoulder, and Bran looked over at his bastard sister who said solemnly: “You did well.”

Joanna was fourteen, an old hand at justice. And yet she had a look of sorrow still in her eye.

It seemed colder on the long ride back to Winterfell, though the wind had died by then and the sun was higher in the sky. Bran rode with his siblings, well ahead of the main party, his pony struggling hard to keep up with their horses.

“The deserter died bravely," Robb said. He was big and broad and growing every day, with his mother's coloring, the fair skin, red-brown hair, and blue eyes of the Tullys of Riverrun. "He had courage, at the least." 

“Aye.” Said Tyrael as he rode alongside them.

“No, It was not courage. This one was dead of fear. You could see it in his eyes, Stark.” Joanna said quietly.

She was also Robb’s age but they did not look alike as Joana was slender and a bit feminine she still had graceful and quick and could hold her ground.

Robb was not impressed. "The Others take his eyes," he swore. "He died well. Race you to the bridge?”

" Done," Joanna said, kicking his horse forward. Robb cursed and followed, and they galloped off down the trail, Robb laughing and hooting, Jon silent and intent. The hooves of their horses kicked up showers of snow as they went. Bran did not try to follow. His pony could not keep up. He had seen the ragged man's eyes, and he was thinking of them now. After a while, the sound of Robb's laughter receded, and the woods grew silent again, but Tyrael remained by his side and he said: “Don worry to much on today Bran. They're is a time and place for worries. Though if he did see the White Walkers, one should never dismiss the words of dying man lest they regret it and fall." 

Bran soon withdrew to his thoughts, but as he was so deep in thought he never heard the rest of the party until his father moved up to ride beside him. "Are you well, Bran?" he asked, not unkindly.

Yes, Father," Bran told him. He looked up. Wrapped in his furs and leathers, mounted on his great warhorse, his lord father loomed over him like a giant. "Robb says the man died bravely, but Joanna says he was afraid.“

"What do you think?" his father asked.

Bran thought about it. "Can a man still be brave if he's afraid?”

"That is the only time a man can be brave," his father told him.

Tyrael nodded and said: “Aye, bravery and courage comes within Bran. Doesn't matter how big or small. True courage and bravery will always show itself when you are afraid." 

Eddard nodded and asked: " Do you understand why I did it?”

Bran paused and was about to speak but paused and Lord Stark said: "The man was an oathbreaker, a deserter from the Night's Watch. No man is more dangerous. The deserter knows his life is forfeit if he is taken, so he will not flinch from any crime, no matter how vile. But you made a mistake me. The question was not why the man had to die, but why I must do it. “

Bran had no answer for that. "King Robert has a headsman," he said, uncertainly.

He does," his father admitted. "As did the Targaryen kings before him. Yet our way is the older way. The blood of the First Men still flows in the veins of the Starks, and we hold to the belief that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. If you would take a man's life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. And if you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die. One day, Bran, you will be Robb's bannerman, holding a keep of your own for your brother and your king, and justice will fall to you. When that day comes, you must take no pleasure in the task, but neither must you look away. A ruler who hides behind paid executioners soon forgets what death is.”

With those words said that is when Joanna reappeared on the crest of the hill before them. He waved and shouted down at them. "Father, Bran, come quickly, see what Robb has found!”

She rode off again and soon the others rushed off to join her. Jory rode up beside them. "Trouble, my lord?”

"Beyond a doubt," his lord father said. "Come, let us see what mischief my sons have rooted out now. " He sent his horse into a trot. Jory and Bran and the rest came after.

As they found Robb on the riverbank north of the bridge, with Jon still mounted beside him. The late summer snows had been heavy this moonturn. Robb stood knee-deep in white, his hood pulled back so the sun shone in his hair. He was cradling something in his arm, while the boys talked in hushed, excited voices. The riders picked their way carefully through the drifts, groping for solid footing on the hidden, uneven ground. Jory Cassel and Theon Greyjoy were the first to reach the boys. Greyjoy was laughing and joking as he rode. Bran heard the breath go out of him. "Gods!" he exclaimed, struggling to keep control of his horse as he reached for his sword.

But Tyrael raised his arm up telling everyone to remain calm. Dismounting he walked over and knelt down and heard faint whimpering and said: “Poor thing. Rest now… a great hunt awaits you among the eternal hunting grounds.”

The wolf went silent and he stepped back and Robb said: " She's dead now." 

Joanna, Jory, and Theon Greyjoy had all dismounted as well. "What in the seven hells is it?" Greyjoy was saying.

“A direwolf, a symbol of your house Lord Stark and…” he pulled from the wound and broken antler and said: "An omen my Lord, she has pups. She tried to return and tend to them.”

Lord Stark froze seeing the antler and the now corpse as it was half-buried in bloodstained snow, a huge dark shape slumped in death. Ice had formed in its shaggy grey fur. Bran gasped at the size of it that made him gasp. It was bigger than his pony, twice the size of the largest hound in his father's kennel. Greyjoy nodded and said: “There's not been a direwolf sighted south of the Wall in two hundred years.”

Joanna looked to Tyrael who stabbed the antler in the snow and moved around it as he moved the brush as the sound of being whines was heard. Bran tore his eyes away from the monster. Then he noticed the wolf pups emerging and coming around to the mother and began whimpering and nudging her. Lagging behind what seems to be the run, but also joining them was a dirwwolf pup with shaggy fur who helped the runt and Tyrael said: “By the nine, a frostbane wolf pup, they have not been seen in Tamriel for hundreds of years.”

The wolf pup had a lush silver coat with an icy hue to it and a dark like mask on its face and black paws as its turn its head to Tyrael it bowed to him and he picked the pup up and held him.

"Direwolves loose in the realm, after so many years," muttered Hullen, the master of horse. "I like it not. “

"It is a sign," Jory said.

As Lord Stark frowned he said: “This is only a dead animal, Jory," he said. Yet he seemed troubled. Snow crunched under his boots as he moved around the body and saw the fresh wound and saw the pups who the runt looked to Joanna.

A sudden silence descended over the party. The men looked at the antler uneasily, and no one dared to speak. Even Bran could sense their fear, though he did not understand, but the words of Tyrael saying it was an omen of the direwolf death. Lord Stark held the antler and gripped it tightly till under his gloves his knuckles turned white. Throwing it away he said: “I'm surprised she lived long enough to whelp.”

" Shows her strength Lord Stark, she died till knowing someone would come for her pups and the one she took it.” Said Tyrael as he stroked the Frostborn gently who rested its head on his chest.

“Maybe she didn't," Jory said. "I've heard tales… maybe the bitch was already dead when the pups came. “

“No, the pups are old enough to run and see, they would still not able to open their eyes yet and have less fur. She was moving them but had to hunt for food only to die to see her children one last time and to see them safe." Said Tyrael solemnly.

"No matter," said Hullen. "They be dead soon enough too. “

Bran gave a wordless cry of dismay as Greyjoy went to move saying: “The sooner the better," Theon Greyjoy agreed. He drew his sword. "Give the beast here, Bran. “

" Enough!” Shouted Tyrael as his voice carried and sounded abnormal to them.

“Put away your sword, Greyjoy," Robb said. For a moment he sounded as commanding as their father, like the lord he would someday be. "We will keep these pups. “

Joanna picked up the runt who nudged against her boot and said: "Lord Stark, There are six natural pups of hers, three males and three females. You have five trueborn children, three sons and two daughters… and me. The direwolf is the sigil of your House. Your children were meant to have these pups, my lord.”

"And the Frostborn Wolf is a sigil of the Goddess Mara. Lord Stark this is a sign for your children my Lord to have these pups, my lord. “ Said Tyrael as he went to her s saddle and got out some milk as Robb went to his saddle to do the same with on of the pups.

Getting the milk sack he began feeding the pup and Bran saw his father's face change, saw the other men exchange glances. He loved Jon with all his heart at that moment. Even at seven, Bran understood what his brother had done. The count had come right only because Joanna had omitted himself. Shee had included the girls, included even Rickon, and even herself reluctantly. Bran smiled seeing Tyrael finally had her starting to accept herself as a member of the family. Robb rushed into the silence he left. "I will nurse him myself, Father," he promised. "I will soak a towel with warm milk, and give him suck from that. “

"Me too!" Bran echoed.

The lord weighed his sons long and carefully with his eyes. "Easy to say, and harder to do. I will not have you wasting the servants' time with this. If you want these pups, you will feed them yourselves. Is that understood?”

Bran nodded eagerly. The pup squirmed in his grasp, licked at his face with a warm tongue. You must train them as well," their father said. "You must train them. The kennelmaster will have nothing to do with these monsters, I promise you that. And the gods help yo

u if you neglect them, or brutalize them, or train them badly. These are not dogs to beg for treats and slink off at a kick. A direwolf will rip a man's arm off his shoulder as easily as a dog will kill a rat. Are you sure you want this?”

Bran nodded and said: " Yes, father.”

"They won't die," Robb said. "We won't let them die. “

“Keep them, then. Jory, Desmond, gather up the other pups. It's time we were back to Winterfell. “ Said Eddard as Joanna held the runt whose fur was white as a snow and had eyes as red as rubies.

Joining her side Tyrael said: “Come on Joan, we have bat get going." 

She nodded and looked to the body of the mother that was soon going to be covered in snow as snow began to fell. It was not until they were mounted and on their way that Bran allowed himself to taste the sweet air of victory. By then, his pup was snuggled inside his leathers, warm against him, safe for the long ride home. Bran was wondering what to name him.

“An albino," Theon Greyjoy said with wry amusement looked at the one Joanna held: "This one will die even faster than the others.”

" Or be the one to kill ya, her coat makes her to easily be missed in the snow. All you see will be a white ghost upon you before you can act.” Said Tyrael making Greyjoy look at him with a snarl.

Joanna looked to the pup and whispered: “Ghost…ess” she looked at Tyrael and asked: " What will you name yours?”

He smiled and patted he wolfs head and said: “Fenris. Who knows Greyjoy, you might become his favorite chew toy.”

The pup turned his icy blue eyes up and everyone noted the back mask seemed to have stretch to his maw and formed a skull like mask and the wolf seemed to smile. Robb, Bran and Joanna snorted in amusement while Greyjoy looked away even Eddard found the sight amusing. Tyrael laughed and scratched his pups chest plate making it growl/moan as it turned its head showing that it was its spot. Soon they all picked up the pace as they were on the clock as the snow was coming down.

Notes:

Yeah, I added a Frostborn Wolf and yes, things will be so delicious to come. Anyway, hope you find this very exciting. As the pack has been out under divine protection. And yes I made Fenris, Fenrir from God of War after being out into Gram body.

Chapter 3: Omens from the North, Troubles Speak of the South

Summary:

Yeah, Omens in the north and trouble rises from the south and yet secrets are coming out.

Chapter Text

Catelun Stark, Matron of the Stark family and wife to Eddard Stark never liked this godswood. She had been born at Tully, at Riverrun far to the south, on the Red Fork of the Trident. The godswood there was a garden, bright and airy, where tall redwoods spread dappled shadows across tinkling streams, birds sang from hidden nests, and the air was spicy with the scent of flowers. The gods of Winterfell kept a different sort of wood. It was a dark, primal place, three acres of old forest untouched for ten thousand years as the gloomy castle rose around it. 

It smelled of moist earth and decay. No redwoods grew here. This was a wood of stubborn sentinel trees armored in grey-green needles, of mighty oaks, of ironwoods as old as the realm itself. Here thick black trunks crowded close together while twisted branches wove a dense canopy overhead and misshapen roots wrestled beneath the soil. This was a place of deep silence and brooding shadows, and the gods who lived here had no names. The gods of Winterfell kept a different sort of wood. It was a dark, primal place, three acres of old forest untouched for ten thousand years as the gloomy castle rose around it. It smelled of moist earth and decay.

No redwoods grew here. This was a wood of stubborn sentinel trees armored in grey-green needles, of mighty oaks, of ironwoods as old as the realm itself. Here thick black trunks crowded close together while twisted branches wove a dense canopy overhead and misshapen roots wrestled beneath the soil. This was a place of deep silence and brooding shadows, and the gods who lived here had no names. But she knew she would find her husband here tonight. Whenever he took a man's life, afterward he would seek the quiet of the godswood.

Catelyn had been anointed with the seven oils and named in the rainbow of light that filled the sept of Riverrun. She was of the Faith, like her father and grandfather and his father before him. Her gods had names, and their faces were as familiar as the faces of her parents. Worship was a septon with a censer, the smell of incense, a seven-sided crystal alive with light, voices raised in song. The Tullys kept a godswood, as all the great houses did, but it was only a place to walk or read or lie in the sun. Worship was for the sept. For her sake, Ned had built a small sept where she might sing to the seven faces of god, but the blood of the First Men still flowed in the veins of the Starks, and his own gods were the old ones, the nameless, faceless gods of the greenwood they shared with the vanished children of the forest.

At the center of the grove an ancient weirwood brooded over a small pool where the waters were black and cold. "The heart tree," Ned called it. The weirwood's bark was white as bone, its leaves dark red, like a thousand bloodstained hands. A face had been carved in the trunk of the great tree, its features long and melancholy, the deep-cut eyes red with dried sap and strangely watchful. They were old, those eyes; older than Winterfell itself. They had seen Brandon the Builder set the first stone, if the tales were true; they had watched the castle's granite walls rise around them. It was said that the children of the forest hand carved the faces in the trees during the dawn centuries before the coming of the First Men across the narrow sea.

In the south the last weirwoods had been cut down or burned out a thousand years ago, except on the Isle of Faces where the green men kept their silent watch. Up here it was different. Here every castle had its godswood, and every godswood had its heart tree, and every heart tree its face. Catelyn found her husband beneath the weirwood, seated on a moss-covered stone. The greatsword Ice was across his lap, and he was cleaning the blade in those waters black as night. A thousand years of humus lay thick upon the godswood floor, swallowing the sound of her feet, but the red eyes of the weirwood seemed to follow her as she came. "Ned," she called softly.

He lifted his head to look at her. "Catelyn," he said. His voice was distant and formal. "Where are the children?”

He would always ask her that. "In the kitchen, arguing about names for the wolf pups. " She spread her cloak on the forest floor and sat beside the pool, her back to the weirwood. She could feel the eyes watching her, but she did her best to ignore them. "Arya is already in love, and Sansa is charmed and gracious, but Rickon is not quite sure. At first, but Tyrael helped him find peace with it.”

Eddard smiled and said: " He has been nothing but a blessing to our home. He is either helping out people or helping our family.”

She smiled as well, though it was weak, but a smile. Her daughters finally got a long better and Arya was more focused on being a maiden though still possessed her wild spirit.

Ned then said: “Winter is coming." 

" Yes," Catelyn agreed. The words gave her a chill, as they always did. The Stark words. Every noble house had its words. Family mottoes, touchstones, prayers of sorts, they boasted of honor and glory, promised loyalty and truth, swore faith and courage. All but the Starks. Winter is coming, said the Stark words. Not for the first time, she reflected on what strange people these northerners were.

“The man died well, I'll give him that," Ned said. He had a swatch of oiled leather in one hand. He ran it lightly up the greatsword as he spoke, polishing the metal to a dark glow. "I was glad for Bran's sake. You would have been proud of Bran.”

"I am always proud of Bran," Catelyn replied, watching the sword as he stroked it. She could see the rippling deep within the steel, where the metal had been folded back on itself a hundred times in the forging. Catelyn had no love for swords, but she could not deny that Ice had its own beauty. It had been forged in Valyria, before the Doom had come to the old Freehold, when the ironsmiths had worked their metal with spells as well as hammers. Four hundred years old it was, and as sharp as the day it was forged. The name it bore was older still, a legacy from the age of heroes, when the Starks were Kings in the North. He was the fourth this year," Ned said grimly. "The poor man was half-mad. Something had put a fear in him so deep that my words could not reach him. But Tyrael… he showed the man an act of kindness that drove the madness away. He gave him a final meal. Tyrael mentioned he has seen the undead walking the far north watching him but never made a move against him." He sighed. "Ben writes that the strength of the Night's Watch is down below a thousand. It's not only desertions. They are losing men on rangings as well.”

"Is it the wildlings?" she asked.

“No… Tyrael mentions seeing something far more dangerous on his way to the wall… the undead watching him.” Said Ned, shocking her and she whispered: " You saying he saw…" Ned nodded saying: “White Walkers… we've seen what the lad can do. He is strong and never lies to us, but he lies to Greyjoy and always says he doesn't trust him. But the wall… it will only grow worse. The day may come when I will have no choice but to call the banners and ride north to deal with that or this King-beyond-the-Wall for good and all. Tyrael mentioned a true king who can be understanding and would want his people to be safe and should try to open up talks with the Wildlings.”

"Beyond the Wall?" The thought made Catelyn shudder.

Ned saw the dread on her face. "Mance Rayder is nothing for us to fear. That man would have to fear Tyrael, every man who has seen war knows the look in his eyes, the look of a survivor, a look of a warrior, a killer and yet he stands strong and unyielding for one so young.”

“But the White Walkers… Maester Luwin will tell you they never lived at all. No living man has ever seen one. “ Said Ned as he stood up.

“Until this morning and when Tyrael crossed over the wall, no living man had ever seen a direwolf either," Catelyn reminded him.

" I ought to know better than to argue with a Tully," he said with a rueful smile. He slid Ice back into its sheath. "You did not come here to tell me crib tales. I know how little you like this place. What is it, my lady?”

Catelyn took her husband's hand. "There was grievous news today, my lord. I did not wish to trouble you until you had cleansed yourself. " There was no way to soften the blow, so she told him straight. "I am so sorry, my love. Jon Arryn is dead. “

His eyes found hers, and she could see how hard it took him, as she had known it would. In his youth, Ned had fostered at the Eyrie, and the childless Lord Arryn had become a second father to him and his fellow ward, Robert Baratheon. When the Mad King Aerys II Targaryen had demanded their heads, the Lord of the Eyrie had raised his moon-and-falcon banners in revolt rather than give up those he had pledged to protect. And one day fifteen years ago, this second father had become a brother as well, as he and Ned stood together in the sept at Riverrun to wed two sisters, the daughters of Lord Hoster Tully. 

“Jon... " he said. "Is this news certain?”

“It was the king's seal, and the letter is in Robert's own hand. I saved it for you. He said Lord Arryn was taken quickly. Even Maester Pycelle was helpless, but he brought the milk of the poppy, so Jon did not linger long in pain. But when I mentioned this to Tyrael in passing, he looked perplexed and said that it wasn't good then he mentioned the pups mother and he feared the warning maybe to be wary of the King. And the look he gave almost had me afraid.” Said Last Stark as Ned was silent.

"That is some small mercy, I suppose," he said. She could see the grief on his face, but even then he thought first of her. "Your sister," he said. "And Jon's boy. What word of them?" 

"The message said only that they were well, and had returned to the Eyrie," Catelyn said. "I wish they had gone to Riverrun instead. The Eyrie is high and lonely, and it was her husband's place, not hers. Lord Jon's memory will haunt each stone. I know my sister. She needs the comfort of family and friends around her. Tyrael mentioned I should visit her soon or send her an invite to come here alongside her son. I am half tempted to do either." 

"Your uncle waits in the Vale, does he not? Jon named him Knight of the Gate, I'd heard.” Said Ned as he understood why Tyrael suggested such, he was an orphan with no family, only a family name and no relatives alive.

Catelyn nodded. "Brynden will do what he can for her, and for the boy. That is some comfort, but still…” Ned grabbed her shoulders and said: "Then take Tyrael’s advice live, go to her. Take the children. Fill her halls with noise and shouts and laughter. That boy of hers needs other children about him, and Lysa should not be alone in her grief.”

"Would that I could," Catelyn said. "The letter had other tidings. The king is riding to Winterfell to seek you out." 

It took Ned a moment to comprehend her words, but when the understanding came, the darkness left his eyes. "Robert is coming here?" 

When she nodded, a smile broke across his face and instantly vanished remembering the Omen, and how he once planned to visit his old friend, but now.

“I knew that would please you, but your face… the Omen” she said. "We should send word to your brother on the Wall.”

“Yes, of course," he agreed. "Ben will want to be here. I shall tell Maester Luwin to send his swiftest bird. " Ned rose and pulled her to her feet. "Damnation, how many years has it been? And he gives us no more notice than this? How many in his party did the message say?”

"I should think a hundred knights, at the least, with all their retainers, and half again as many freeriders. Cersei and the children travel with them. Tyrael also was able to get me to tell him and had swiftly gone to make sure arrangements are being done with." Said the Lady Stark making the man smile.

“Robert will keep an easy pace for their sakes," he said. "It is just as well. That will give us more time to prepare.”

“The queen's brothers are also at the party," she told him.

Ned grimaced at that. There was small love between him and the queen's family, Catelyn knew. The Lannisters of Casterly Rock had come late to Robert's cause, when victory was all but certain, and he had never forgiven them. "Well, if the price for Robert's company is an infestation of Lannisters, so be it. It sounds as though Robert is bringing half his court. “

“Where the king goes, the realm follows," she said.

Ned nodded and said: "It will be good to see the children. The youngest was still sucking at the Lannister woman's teat the last time I saw him. He must be, what, five by now?”

"Prince Tommen is eight," she told him. "The same age as Bran. Please, Ned, guard your tongue. The Lannister woman is our queen, and her pride is said to grow with every passing year. “

Ned squeezed her hand. "There must be a feast, of course, with singers, and Robert will want to hunt. I shall send Jory south with an honor guard to meet them on the kingsroad and escort them back. Gods, how are we going to feed them all? On his way already, you said? Damn the man. Damn his royal hide. “

Meanwhile in his room, sleeping on a bear pelt Tyrael.had was the wolf Fenris who had just finished his meal and was napping as Tyrael.silently stepped into the room and smiled seeing the Atmorian wolf sound asleep. Taking a seat in a chair, he pondered on today's events and then he felt a shift and heard; “What ails you child of dragons, bearer of the stormcrown and slayer of the firstborns.”

Turning his head he frowned as a voice rang in his head: “Boethiah, why are you speaking to me?”

"Just to check on my champion…listen well and listen well. The Red Keep of Kings Landing is full of unlawful deception and conspiracy. And yet the cruelty… it's sickening even to me, the Daedra Lord of Cruelty.” Said the dark entity.

"And pray to what that maybe?” Whispered the Dragonborn.

“You should guess Dragonborn, though you are my champion your soul is out of reach… but the Kingdom… It's too tasteful to Molag Bal and a feeding ground of Peryite.* She said with disgust, making him smile.

“Is that all…” he asked and she said: " No, the one known as Jon Arryn has been poisoned by the Queen Ceresin Lannister as he uncovered the truth, a deceit so delectable it's mouth watering. Though my champion, that is for you to uncover what he discovered.”

A laugh faded into an echo in his mind and he frowned. A nod was heard and Fenris' head shot up and gave a growl before he sniffed the air and barked happily. Going to the door he opened it and he smiled seeing Sansa with her wolf lady in her arms who was wagging her tail seeing Fenris. She then said: “Ah, good you're awake.”

" You need me , Princess of the north.” He said with a light bow making her blush heavily.

She gently shoved him and sat her wolf down who rushed to Fenris' side and the two curled up together making Sansa gush before she looked at him and said: “I've come to ask you about something." 

“Sure, what is it?" He guided her to his bed and she said after breathing in and out: “I… I don't think… no it's stupid.”

" Come on, you can tell me, it's just us here… no one else.” Said Tyrael and she sighed before saying: "I am so conflicted about things?" 

“What about?" He asked curiously as the look of uncertainty was plastered in her eyes and leaking onto her face.

“Everything, my family's relations, the news and… and…ugh!” She said going into frustration making him laugh seeing 

He kissed her forehead making her squeak and freeze and he said: “One: Breath, two clear your mind and three start from the beginning." 

She nodded and did as instructed and began explaining everything and he said: “You are highly regretful. Joanna… is a complicated person Sansa. It can't be helped on how she came to be, but that shouldn't matter, she's your sister, your sister who will always be there for you.”

Sansa nodded and kissed his cheek and said: " Thank you. My brave wandering warrior.”

A knock was heard and the voice of Bran said: "Tyrael, father wishes to see you in his solar.”

"Okay, I'll be there.” He said as he got to his feet and walked out leaving Sansa to lay back and roll onto her stomach and sniff the bed and she sighed happily with a shudder.

Rushing to close his door and seeing Lady and Fenris sound asleep she removed her robe to reveal her underwear being a simple white bra and white panties that she noticed started to hug her rump. Being only thirteen as her sister and brother were two years basically ahead, she noticed how Joanna and Arya looked at Tyrael. Meanwhile within the solar, Tyrael looked at Lord Stark who was pacing and he said: “What troubles you, Lord Stark?" 

“Everything my boy, Robert, will come here to search for a new Hand and he will pester me to take up the job. Jon was a good man and the King, Robert is my brother, is a dear friend and yet…” Tyrael said finishing the man's words: "The timing of everything seems far to nerving. I heard though Job Arryn was in his years, he was still healthy as a horse. A man who just simply dies like that in a short time is no coincidence. Only a few things would take a man like that to make it seem like a sickness and one of them is prolonged exposure to poison.”

" You believe Jon was killed?” Asked Ned.

" Yes, a man who held the position of the king's hand is practically a pseudo king as he is monitoring everything that comes and goes. His position, the influence he possessed all showed signs of being a candidate for assassination. But for what… he could have been investigated, investigated something serious, a danger to the realm and when he uncovered it, he was silenced.” Said Tyrael.

Ned frowned and looked to the shadows as if he was seeing something and then he said: "Any clues?" 

“One… the royal family. When I asked some traveling merchants the other day, they mentioned how all three heirs of the throne looked heavily like a Lannister and none of the King. Though, one mentioned that Myrcella did seem a bit different. But even the notion of the children taking after their mother's side more than the king is possible as they could have inherited other traits from him. Jon could have also been investigating the wealth of the kingdom and could have found someone siphoning more money than the king spends or a plot to kill the royal family itself.” Said Tyrael seriously.

Lord Stark frowned and found the words of Tyrael in truth. The young man though young as his children was a survivor, a warrior and a soldier. His eyes said it all he then said: “This is very difficult…” Tyrael.rhen said: " Not as difficult as telling Joanna who her true parents are.”

Lord Stark froze and turned to Tyrael who looked dead serious and clenched his fist and said:;" How… who…" Tyrael actually knew how to reply, leading him astray: “I have been having dreams. A wounded mother wolf surrounded in rose petals as far off a dying dragon reaches to her with tears as well as a broken spear with a dead baby dragon brought before a deer on an iron stump as a male wolf who.found the dead wolf fled with a wolf who had dragon-like features.” 

Lord Stark looked down and covered his mouth and said: "The Dragon was Rhaegar Targaryen, the wolf was your sister and the spear was Elia Martell.”

Ned nodded and said: " Yes… Joanna is my sister's daughter. She made me promise on her dying breath to protect her daughter, Joanna's true name was Visenya Targaryen after the wife of Aegon the Conqueror. Visenya was a skilled warrior according to tales and day by day Joanna is proving her skill.”

" I heard that Visenya sword, Dark Sister was lost when Lord Commander of the Night Watch Brynden Rivers traveled beyond the wall…” he paused before he raised his hand as the air shimmered and a phantom chest emerging after shinning and then Stark saw a spiral handled with a flame like pommel with a golden cross guard with a red gem and a long thin double edge blade as it was dark silver with ripples bring removed from the chest itself.

“It is Dark Sister… you found it in the far north?” Lord Stark asked.

" Ah, just when I arrived on the far northern shore, I saw a frozen corpse with a spear through him. I took the spear out and gave the body a pyre funeral and kept the blade stored in that chest. Though it never stays till I summon it again.” Said Tyrael as the chest vanished.

He passed the blade to the Lord who took it and he said: “It is Joanna's birthright, but she must be told soon. If she were to learn of her origin from someone else she may resent you." 

The Lord of the North took the blade and sat it on his desk and examined him and said: “I trust this stays…” Tyrael nodded and said before heading straight to his room: " Between us, yes.”

Once returned he rubbed his face and looked down seeing the sleeping face of Sansa who was emotionally exhausted. She was now in her gown sleeping and he heard her say: “Back… off… Arya… he's mine.” 

Snorting as he was amused by this he pondered and frowned. Shaking it aside he joined her in his bed after removing some clothing. Closing his eyes his mind would drift off to the realm of dreams. Soon he found himself in a field and watched as a Frostborn Wolf played with direwolves happily and they nuzzled it lovingly and they soon ran as the moon was high. Just then he heard crying and started walking toward the sound and found a girl in shackles caged and crying. Walking up to the cage he touched it and a bright light shines and he groaned as he shielded his eyes before blinking them and finding himself someplace else.

Chapter 4: The Trapped Draconess

Summary:

So yeah, guess you can tell who's this about any. This will be interesting and out of body experience and how will Tyrael handle it.

Chapter Text

Tyrael Septum blinked as he stood as an astral projection looking at a young woman close to his age.She has violet eyes, pale skin, and long, pale silver-gold hair. Her body is a slender frame, with small breasts. As she was fair and beautiful. He knew who this was, Daenerys Targaryen, Aunt to Joanna/Visenya. Stepping into the room as the fair maiden stared upon a gown before her. Her brother who possessed similar features as the girl has pale skin, silver-blond hair, and pale lilac eyes though he was a Gaunt man with hard lines in his face and a feverish look in his eyes. Behind the eyes that show kindness was the eyes of a mad, spiteful, petty, cowardly and moronic as this was Viserys the girl's older brother and her only closest relative known to live. Her brother held the gown up for her inspection. "This is beauty. Touch it. Go on. Caress the fabric.”

Daenerys or as she is called by some Dany touched it. The cloth was so smooth that it seemed to run through her fingers like water. She could not remember ever wearing anything so soft. It frightened her. She pulled her hand away. "Is it really mine?”

"A gift from the Magister Illyrio," Viserys said, smiling. Her brother was in a high mood tonight. "The color will bring out the violet in your eyes. And you shall have gold as well, and jewels of all sorts. Illyrio has promised. Tonight you must look like a princess. “

Dany had forgotten what that was like. Perhaps she had never really known. "Why does he give us so much?" she asked. "What does he want from us?" For nigh on half a year, they had lived in the magister's house, eating his food, pampered by his servants. Dany was thirteen, old enough to know that such gifts seldom come without their price, here in the free city of Pentos.

"Illyrio is no fool," Viserys said. He was a gaunt young man with nervous hands and a feverish look in his pale lilac eyes. "The magister knows that I will not forget my friends when I come into my throne. “

Dany said nothing. Magister Illyrio was a dealer in spices, gemstones, dragonbone, and other, less savory things. He had friends in all of the Nine Free Cities, it was said, and even beyond, in Vaes Dothrak and the fabled lands beside the JadeSea. It was also said that he'd never had a friend he wouldn't cheerfully sell for the right price. Dany listened to the talk in the streets, and she heard these things, but she knew better than to question her brother when he wove his webs of dream. His anger was a terrible thing when roused. Viserys called it "waking the dragon. “

Able to have her thoughts due to being as powerful as he as Tyrael scoffed and wished he could strangle the man. As she hung the gown beside the door. "Illyrio will send the slaves to bathe you. Be sure you wash off the stink of the stables. Khal Drogo has a thousand horses, tonight he looks for a different sort of mount. " He studied her critically. "You still slouch. Straighten yourself" He pushed back her shoulders with his hands. "Let them see that you have a woman's shape now. " His fingers brushed lightly over her budding breasts and tightened on a nipple. "You will not fail me tonight. If you do, it will go hard for you. You don't want to wake the dragon, do you?" His fingers twisted her, the pinch cruelly hard through the rough fabric of her tunic. "Do you?" he repeated.

"No," Dany said meekly and full of fear and on the verge of tears which made Tyrael’s own dragon inside of him, causing. His eyes turned as golden as the sun and looked to be a flame.

His eyes drifted to the beauty of Dany, her face and her beauty began to calm the storm and the roared. Though he noticed her budding breast had darkish nipples. He couldn't look away, it was as if… he remembered something, a voice saying: “One day you will see your destined mare, she will captivate you and even if you desire to look away you won't be my sweet boy. Though you may have many lovers, your mare will always be true.”

He then seemingly remembered asked: " But mommy, don't strong dragons have more than one mare?”

A laugh was heard and she said: " Yes sweetie, but only the strongest. But still your mare will be the one you desire to protect, desire to give everything for. “

Shaking his thoughts he saw her brother smile. "Good. " He touched her hair, almost with affection. "When they write the history of my reign, sweet sister, they will say that it began tonight. “

When he was gone, Dany went to her window and looked out wistfully on the waters of the bay. The square brick towers of Pentos were black silhouettes outlined against the setting sun. Dany could hear the singing of the red priests as they lit their night fires and the shouts of ragged children playing games beyond the walls of the estate. For a moment she wished she could be out there with them, barefoot and breathless and dressed in tatters, with no past and no future and no feast to attend at Khal Drogo's manse. Then her mind drifted to a dream she had, a pair of dragons, one radiant as golden fire with a red gem on its chest that emerged from a storm with the storm clinging to its head like a crown that nuzzled her as if she was the other dragon and the dragon took her away. She sighed at the dream and wished it was real.

Though she then thought somewhere beyond the sunset, across the narrow sea, lay a land of green hills and flowered plains and great rushing rivers, where towers of dark stone rose amidst magnificent blue-grey mountains, and armored knights rode to battle beneath the banners of their lords. The Dothraki called that land Rhaesh Andahli, the land of the Andals. In the Free Cities, they talked of Westeros and the SunsetKingdoms. Her brother had a simpler name. "Our land," he called it. The words were like a prayer with him. If he said them enough, the gods were sure to hear. "Ours by blood right, taken from us by treachery, but ours still, ours forever. You do not steal from the dragon, oh, no. The dragon remembers." 

He then muttered: “We do remember, we remember well. But you chose to forget the pain of being homeless and alone." 

Though to her perhaps the dragon did remember, but Dany could not. She had never seen this land her brother said was theirs, this realm beyond the narrow sea. These places he talked of, Casterly Rock and the Eyrie, Highgarden and the Vale of Arryn, Dorne and the Isle of Faces, were just words to her. Viserys had been a boy of eight when they fled King's Landing to escape the advancing armies of the Usurper, but Daenerys had been only a quickening in their mother's womb. Yet sometimes Dany would picture the way it had been, so often had her brother tell her the stories. The midnight flight to Dragonstone, moonlight shimmering on the ship's black sails. 

Though her eldest brother Rhaegar battling the Usurper in the bloody waters of the Trident and dying for the woman he loved. The sack of King's Landing by the ones Viserys called the Usurper's dogs, the lords Lannister and Stark. Princess Elia of Dorne pleading for mercy as Rhaegar's heir was ripped from her breast and murdered before her eyes. The polished skulls of the last dragons staring down sightlessly from the walls of the throne room while the Kingslayer opened Father's throat with a golden sword. Tyrael whispered: “You'll find out my draconess, but I won't let the madness of your father come for you." 

His eyes shifted back into the dragon as he sat aside and saw her remembering everything she could up till now and what they called her brother the “beggar King" and yet all Daenerys wanted was the big house with the red door, the lemon tree outside her window. Stroking his chin he made a note and smiled, perhaps he could get that place and turn it into something of a headquarters. Soon there came a soft knock on her door. "Come," Dany said, turning away from the window. Illyrio's servants entered, bowed, and set about their business. They were slaves, a gift from one of the magister's many Dothraki friends. 

There was no slavery in the free city of Pentos. Nonetheless, they were slaves. The old woman, small and grey as a mouse, never said a word, but the girl made up for it. She was Illyrio's favorite, a fair-haired, blue-eyed wench of sixteen who chattered constantly as she worked. They filled her bath with hot water brought up from the kitchen and scented it with fragrant oils. The girl pulled the rough cotton tunic over Dany's head and helped her into the tub. The water was scalding hot, but Daenerys did not flinch or cry out. She liked the heat. It made her feel clean. Besides, her brother had often told her that it was never too hot for a Targaryen.

Chuckling at the family creed of her family he muttered: “Fire is only one part of being a dragon Dany, I hope to teach you." 

As the old woman washed her long, silver-pale hair and gently combed out the snags, all in silence. The girl scrubbed her back and her feet and told her how lucky she was. "Drogo is so rich that even his slaves wear golden collars. A hundred thousand men ride in his khalasar, and his palace in Vaes Dothrak has two hundred rooms and doors of solid silver. " 

There was more like that, so much more, what a handsome man the khal was, so tall and fierce, fearless in battle, the best rider ever to mount a horse, a demon archer. Daenerys said nothing. She had always assumed that she would wed Viserys when she came of age. For centuries the Targaryens had married brother to sister, since Aegon the Conqueror had taken his sisters to bride. The line must be kept pure, Viserys had told her a thousand times; theirs was the kingsblood, the golden blood of old Valyria, the blood of the dragon. Dragons did not mate with the beasts of the field, and Targaryens did not mingle their blood with that of lesser men. Yet now Viserys schemed to sell her to a stranger, a barbarian.

And yet her mind at times dreamt of a young man with indigo eyes and pale hair combating various threats and even grabbed a wooly mammoth by the tusk and flipped it on its side while it was charging. She had seen his kindness, his nature, his intelligence, his fierceness, his loyalty and his empathy… things that drew her like a moth to flame and yet his eyes held pain and sorrow and yet he stood strong and unyielding. When she was clean, the slaves helped her from the water and toweled her dry. The girl brushed her hair until it shone like molten silver, while the old woman anointed her with the spice flower perfume of the Dothraki plains, a dab on each wrist, behind her ears, on the tips of her breasts, and one last one, cool on her lips, down there between her legs. They dressed her in the wisps that Magister Illyrio had sent up, and then the gown, a deep plum silk to bring out the violet in her eyes. The girl slid the gilded sandals onto her feet, while the old woman fixed the tiara in her hair, and slid golden bracelets crusted with amethysts around her wrists.

Last of all came the collar, a heavy golden torc emblazoned with ancient Valyrian glyphs.

“Now you look all a princess," the girl said breathlessly when they were done. 

Dany glanced at her image in the silvered looking glass that Illyrio had so thoughtfully provided. A princess, she thought, but she remembered what the girl had said, how Khal Drogo was so rich even his slaves wore golden collars. She felt a sudden chill, and gooseflesh pimpled her bare arms. But her image shifted to one she saw in a dream, an older version of her in a crimson red gown with golden accents as she wore her mother's crown holding a pregnant belly and behind her holding her was the man from his dreams wearing a mixture of a nobleman attire with pauldrons, bracers, shin guards and the he wore a dark gray circlet with an icy blue gem in it. They kissed happily and it had nearly brought her to tears as the servants looked away. As her brother was waiting in the cool of the entry hall, seated on the edge of the pool, his hand trailing in the water.

He rose when she appeared and looked her over critically. "Stand there," he told her. "Turn around. Yes. Good. You look…" seeing her twirl but then "Regal," Magister Illyrio said, stepping through an archway. He moved with surprising delicacy for such a massive man. Beneath loose garments of flame-colored silk, rolls of fat jiggled as he walked. Gemstones glittered on every finger, and his man had oiled his forked yellow beard until it shone like real gold. "May the Lord of Light shower you with blessings on this most fortunate day, Princess Daenerys," the magister said as he took her hand. He bowed his head, showing a thin glimpse of crooked yellow teeth through the gold of his beard. "She is a vision, Your Grace, a vision," he told her brother. "Drogo will be enraptured.”

"She's too skinny," Viserys said. His hair, the same silver-blond as hers, had been pulled back tightly behind his head and fastened with a dragonbone brooch. It was a severe look that emphasized the hard, gaunt lines of his face. He rested his hand on the hilt of the sword that Illyrio had lent him, and said, "Are you sure that Khal Drogo likes his women this young?"

Turning a bit green, they're were things even in Tamriel that even the Thalmor found sickening. Fifteen to sixteen was the max someone could marry. Though people near the age can start contemplating ever so in the bed as long as the age gap wasn't massive. He then said: “Geez, I wanna puke." 

 “She has had her blood. She is old enough for the khal," Illyrio told him, not for the first time. "Look at her. That silver-gold hair, those purple eyes . . . she is the blood of old Valyria, no doubt, no doubt . . . and highborn, daughter of the old king, sister to the new, she cannot fail to enter our Drogo. " When he released her hand, Daenerys found herself trembling. 

"I suppose," her brother said doubtfully. "The savages have queer tastes. Boys, horses, sheep…” but he heard a faint whisper: " Well dumbass your ancestors were Shepherds so shut up.”

He looked around and saw nothing, rubbing his ear slightly he heard: "Best not suggest this to Khal Drogo," Illyrio said.

Anger flashed in her brother's lilac eyes. "Do you take me for a fool?"

the magister bowed slightly. "I take you for a king. Kings lack the caution of common men. My apologies if I have given offense. " He turned away and clapped his hands for his bearers. 

The streets of Pentos were pitch-dark when they set out in Illyrio's elaborately carved palanquin. Two servants went ahead to light their way, carrying ornate oil lanterns with panes of pale blue glass, while a dozen strong men hoisted the poles to their shoulders. It was warm and close inside behind the curtains. Dany could smell the stench of Illyrio's pallid flesh through his heavy perfumes. Her brother, sprawled out on his pillows beside her, never noticed. His mind was away across the narrow sea. "We won't need his whole khalasar," Viserys said.

His fingers toyed with the hilt of his borrowed blade, though Dany knew he had never used a sword in earnest. "Ten thousand, that would be enough, I could sweep the Seven Kingdoms with ten thousand Dothraki screamers. The realm will rise for its rightful king. Tyrell, Redwyne, Darry, Greyjoy, they have no more love for the Usurper than I do. The Dornishmen burn to avenge Elia and her children. And the smallfolk will be with us. They cry out for their king. " He looked at Illyrio anxiously. "They do, don't they?”

"They are your people, and they love you well," Magister Illyrio said amiably. "In holdfasts all across the realm, men lift secret toasts to your health while women sew dragon banners and hide them against the day of your return from across the water. " He gave a massive shrug. "Or so my agents tell me. "

Dany had no agents, no way of knowing what anyone was doing or thinking across the narrow sea, but she mistrusted Illyrio's sweet words as she mistrusted everything about Illyrio. Her brother was nodding eagerly, however. "I shall kill the Usurper myself," he promised, who had never killed anyone, "as he killed my brother Rhaegar. And Lannister too, the Kingslayer, for what he did to my father. "

"That would be most fitting," Magister Illyrio said. Dany saw the smallest hint of a smile playing around his full lips, but her brother did not notice. 

Nodding, he pushed back a curtain and stared off into the night, and Dany knew he was fighting the Battle of the Trident once again. Tyrael snorted and shook his head. The nine-towered manse of Khal Drogo sat beside the waters of the bay, its high brick walls overgrown with pale ivy. It had been given to the khal by the magisters of Pentos, Illyrio told them. The Free Cities were always generous with the horse lords. "It is not that we fear these barbarians," Illyrio would explain with a smile. "The Lord of Light would hold our city walls against a million Dothraki, or so the red priests promise . . . yet why take chances, when their friendship comes so cheap?”

Their palanquin was stopped at the gate, the curtains pulled roughly back by one of the house guards. He had the copper skin and dark almond eyes of a Dothraki, but his face was hairless and he wore the spiked bronze cap of the Unsullied. He looked over them coldly. Magister Illyrio growled something to him in the rough Dothraki tongue; the guardsman replied in the same voice and waved them through the gates. Dany noticed that her brother's hand was clenched tightly around the hilt of his borrowed sword. He looked almost as frightened as she felt. "Insolent eunuch," Viserys muttered as the palanquin lurched up toward the manse.

But Magister Illyrio's words were honey. "Many important men will be at the feast tonight. Such men have enemies. The khal must protect his guests, yourself chief among them, Your Grace. No doubt the Usurper would pay well for your head. “

"Oh, yes," Viserys said darkly. "He has tried, Illyrio, I promise you that. His hired knives follow us everywhere. I am the last dragon, and he will not sleep easy while I live. "

The palanquin slowed and stopped. The curtains were thrown back, and a slave offered a hand to help Daenerys out. His collar, she noted, was ordinary bronze. Her brother followed, one hand still clenched hard around his sword hilt. It took two strong men to get Magister Illyrio back on his feet. Inside the manse, the air was heavy with the scent of spices, pinchfire and sweet lemon and cinnamon. 

They were escorted across the entry hall, where a mosaic of colored glass depicted the Doom of Valyria. Oil burned in black iron lanterns all along the walls. Beneath an arch of twining stone leaves, a eunuch sang their coming. "Viserys of the House Targaryen, the Third of his Name," he called in a high, sweet voice, "King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the SevenKingdoms and Protector of the Realm. His sister, Daenerys Stormborn, Princess of Dragonstone. His honorable host, Illyrio Mopatis, Magister of the Free City of Pentos. “

They stepped past the eunuch into a pillared courtyard overgrown in pale ivy. Moonlight painted the leaves in shades of bone and silver as the guests drifted among them. Many were Dothraki horse lords, big men with red-brown skin, their drooping mustachios bound in metal rings, their black hair oiled and braided and hung with bells. Yet among them moved bravos and sellswords from Pentos and Myr and Tyrosh, a red priest even fatter than Illyrio, hairy men from the Port of Ibben, and lords from the Summer Isles with skin as black as ebony. Daenerys looked at them all in wonder… and realized, with a sudden start of fear, that she was the only woman there.

As Illyrio whispered to them. "Those three are Drogo's bloodriders, there," he said. "By the pillar is Khal Moro, with his son Rhogoro. The man with the green beard is brother to the Archon of Tyrosh, and the man behind him is Ser Jorah Mormont. "

The last name caught Daenerys. "A knight?" 

“No less. " Illyrio smiled through his beard. "Anointed with the seven oils by the High Septon himself. "

"What is he doing here?" she blurted.

" The Usurper wanted his head," Illyrio told them. "Some trifling affront. He sold some poachers to a Tyroshi slaver instead of giving them to the Night's Watch. Absurd law. A man should be able to do as he likes with his own chattel. "

"I shall wish to speak with Ser Jorah before the night is done," her brother said. Dany found herself looking at the knight curiously. He was an older man, past forty and balding, but still strong and fit. Instead of silks and cottons, he wore wool and leather. His tunic was a dark green, embroidered with the likeness of a black bear standing on two legs. She was still looking at this strange man from the homeland she had never known when Magister Illyrio placed a moist hand on her bare shoulder. "Over there, sweet princess," he whispered, "there is the khal himself. “

The slave girl had not been far wrong, she thought. Khal Drogo was a head taller than the tallest man in the room, yet somehow light on his feet, as graceful as the panther in Illyrio's menagerie. He was younger than she'd thought, no more than thirty. His skin was the color of polished copper, his thick mustachios bound with gold and bronze rings. 

"I must go and make my submissions," Magister Illyrio said. "Wait here. I shall bring him to you. " 

Though her brother took her by the arm as Illyrio waddled over to the khal, his fingers squeezed so hard that they hurt. "Do you see his braid, sweet sister?"

She saw Drogo's braid was black as midnight and heavy with scented oil, hung with tiny bells that rang softly as he moved. It swung well past his belt, below even his buttocks, the end of it brushing against the back of his thighs.

"You see how long it is?" Viserys said. "When Dothraki are defeated in combat, they cut off their braids in disgrace, so the world will know their shame. Khal Drogo has never lost a fight. He is Aegon the Dragonlord, come again, and you will be his queen. "

Dany looked at Khal Drogo. His face was hard and cruel, his eyes as cold and dark as onyx. Her brother hurt her sometimes, when she woke the dragon, but he did not frighten her the way this man frightened her. "I don't want to be his queen," she heard herself say in a small, thin voice. "Please, please, Viserys, I don't want to, I want to go home. “

"Home?" He kept his voice low, but she could hear the fury in his tone. "How are we going home, sweet sister? They took our home from us!" He drew her into the shadows, out of sight, his fingers digging into her skin. "How are we to go home?" he repeated, meaning King's Landing, and Dragonstone, and all the realm they had lost.

Dany had only meant their rooms in Illyrio's estate, no true home surely, though all they had, but her brother did not want to hear that. There was no home there for him. Even the big house with the red door had not been home for him. His fingers dug hard into her arm, demanding an answer. "I don't know . . . "she said at last, her voice breaking. Tears welled in her eyes.

"I do," he said sharply. "We go home with an army, sweet sister. With Khal Drogo's army, that is how we go home. And if you must wed him and bed him for that, you will. " He smiled at her. "I'd let his whole khalasar fuck you if need be, sweet sister, all forty thousand men, and their horses too if that was what it took to get my army. Be grateful it is only Drogo. In time you may even learn to like him. Now dry your eyes. Illyrio is bringing him over, and he will not see you crying. " 

Dany turned and saw that it was true. Magister Illyrio, all smiles and bows, was escorting Khal Drogo over to where they stood. She brushed away unfallen tears with the back of her hand.

“Smile," Viserys whispered nervously, his hand failing to the hilt of his sword. "And stand up straight. Let him see that you have breasts. Gods know, you have little enough as is. "

Daenerys smiled, and stood up straight. But her thoughts betrayed her and she felt a warmth of comfort washed over her and felt safe. She doesn't know why, but this feeling she felt as if she knew this and yet it belonged to no one around her, she then thought it was a guardian angel. Tyrael looked to everyone in the room and his eyes morphed and he thought possessively: ‘Mine.’

Later that day close to the end of it, looking at the crying dragoness he sat beside her and frowned as he clenched his fist and grabbed her hand and squeezed it. Unknowingly to him she felt a comforting hand full of empathy and kindness held hers but her focus was on her own sorrow. He began to sing in a soft carrying voice after doing some humming: 

 

Flying to the stars.

You can be far away.

Those who fly, quietly

Hide away their sadness in their hearts.

I want to far overcome the loop of time,

And let my feelings reach you.

Everything is swallowed up by the darkness.

I lose my heart, and it disappears,

But embraced in your arms,

You breathe life back into me.

Flying to the stars.

You can be far away.

Those who fly, hide away

Their overflowing teardrops, that are endless.

I want to far overcome the loop of time,

And let a miracle reach you.

Everything is swallowed up by the darkness.

I lose my dream, and it freezes over,

But embraced to your chest,

You breathe life back into me.

And so, enveloped in eternity,

I will continue to fly until the place my wishes will come true,

Never losing sight of my heart,

Until I return home to you.

Flying to the stars.

Far away. 

 

Daerneys looked up seeing the astral projection with her puffy red eyes and asked: “Are you my guardian angel?" 

He froze and blinked before saying: “If you like. My name is Tyrael.Septum… I am a traveler from the far distant lands beyond Essos and Westeros and your Daenerys Targaryen… daughter Rhaella and Aegon.”

She sat up and whipped away her tears and said: “I'm a mess, a lady should always be…” Tyrael said: " Bah, don't give a crap about etiquette. I understand your brother wishes to reclaim your family's throne and yet I see hatred for you, hatred that is misplaced.”

She looked down and they began to chat away and he told her: " Funny how us two dragons meet…" she looked at him and he said: “No, I'm no Valyrian, I think. I know my dragon blood comes from the dragon god of the sun, time, men and elf the chief god Akatosh who blessed chosen champions to defend the weak and rise against evil." 

She looked at him with wonder and said: “You mean heroes?" 

“Aye, Tamriel has many heroic tales and many heroes… I met one on my travels, though he became a godly being known as Uncle Sheo… or Sheogorath who governs madness and creativity. Though Madness is not caused by him persay like people going bonkers that's on their own. He just controls madness to prevent it from going too far but still lets it run its course.” He said.

She looked at him and asked: “And how did you meet him…” Tyrael.amiled and explained his tale in the mind of the ghost of Pelagius the Mad and his time in the Isles and she was enamoured by his tale.

She looked upon him and asked: “And the root is still connected?" 

“Yes, and then they're was the time when…” he then began his tail of uncovering the Gray Cowl of Nocturnal in a vast desert Hammerfell and facing the trials to find the cowl and met Sheogorath once more who took on the form and person who was deep within the Hero of Kvatch who lead the charge against invading demonic forces.

Daenerys laid on her stomach and kicked her feet back and forth, and the first time in a long time she felt… like she was home. As he finished he asked, already knowing: “Daeny, if you don't mind me calling you that.*

" I don't mind Ty, but what is it?” She asked and he smiled softly at her nickname for him and said: " Would you like it if I could find your mother's crown." 

She looked at him and said: “I… my brother sold it nearly four summers ago and the coin for it is almost used up." 

Frowning he snapped his fingers and the phantom chest emerged, she jumped in surprise and he reached inside of it and pulled out a small coin pouch filled with flawless diamonds and he said: *Here… tell your brother this is a gift from a Lord who wishes you all well and leaves. Don't worry about paying me back, consider this an act of kindness.”

The pouch rested on her bed and she grabbed it and saw the diamonds and clutched them and asked: " There has to be something that…" he raised his hand and said: “A hero doesn't need a reward, a hero will always do what is right. I'll see you soon, Dany.”

She then realized something, his face, his eyes, his hair, his voice he was from her dreams. She looked to him and saw he faded away, but then he found himself in the Riften Cistern, more importantly in the center of the thieves guild and he saw a shaved head female blue skinned purple eye elf talking to a grizzly red haired goatee man wearing dark leather armor the pouches on a belt over his chest and black leather pants and boots while the elf wore a sleek black outfit with fingerless gloves and the outfit resembled a long sleeves unitard with thigh high black boots with an emblem of a a crescent bird on the chest. He then said: “Ah, funny looks like the gales are all here." 

The duo widened their eyes seeing the astral projection and the red headed man asked: “Kid you're alive, or are you…” Tyrael then said: " Dead… nah, that hurts Brynjolf, but listen I'm past Atmorian in the lands called Westeros there are lands beyond the ones we know. I was guided by the Psjic order Monks and we have an issue. Well I really have a job." 

“What's the job?" Asked the elf.

“A recover here, a friend of mine I made brother sold something and I promise her to get it back… the lands here nobles are practically fools and treat the common folk as literally the same way as Maven treats us, the only place I say we never touch is Winterfell and that's an order.” Said Tyrael and the two nodded and he said: "The object we are after is a crown, a silverish crown resembling a dragon, a crown for a queen adorned with jewels. It was sold a few years ago in Essos, though I suspect it's in Westeros somewhere. I'll summon anyone you can spare as long as they wear the ring I enchanted.”

" What's the crown made of them, boss?” Said a shaved headed man walking up from a hallway with a woman with shoulder length pale blonde hair wearing the same outfit as Brynjolf.

“Valyrian steel is as tough as it gets and highly sought after, a simple knife crafted from it can feel like a large pot of coin." Said Tyrael, making the four whistles.

The female Vex said: “Geez boss, is it that pricey on the market, how well does it stack to anything here?" 

“I've tested it with a dagger I found, Daedric weapons excluding artifacts rival it but Adamantium shattered it.as if it was broken glass.” Said Tyrael seriously making everyone nod, Daedric weapons was a sought out weaponry though difficult to get as the Vigilante takes them and destroys them and melts it down back into pure ebony.

“That's concerning, any other unique weapons?" Asked Delvin.

"Obsidian stuff is used in practically everything here. Hell, they even figured out how to make candles from it. But be wary of the far north of Westeros, it's wild lands and has a massive undead hive mind running about." Said Tyrael, surprising them.

“Okay, we definitely should avoid that. So when we get started, I am itching for this…” said Vex.

"Unfortunately the thieves have to be humans, they have never seen mer or beastfolk here and women are constantly questioned.” Said Tyrael.

" We'll figure something out, for now we have duties to attend to.* Said Brynjolf.

“I won't keep any of you then. Be wary everyone, I felt a shift within a wind, something on the horizon." He said and with that his image faded leaving the thieves to think.

Chapter 5: Welcoming the Royal Family

Summary:

No need for a summary the Chapter title says it all. But Tyrael mentions about about Tamriel.

Chapter Text

Days have passed and during that time Tyrael.either helped preparations for the coming King in a few days or spoke.to Dany who was more afraid then ever and comforted her every night. Though he also continued training Arya and Sansa as well as gifted Sansa a tensei or battle fan. Though it looked like a simple fan, once he threw it and cut off a dummy's head surprising everyone it was beautiful as it was deadly and he told her it was made from an alloy from his home land known as ebony. Strong and sturdy, and would always return to her. Though garbed in his Stormlord attire with the emblem replaced with hawk instead he stood with his blade at his hip. Soon the royal party arrived, the visitors poured through the castle gates in a river of gold and silver and polished steel, three hundred strong, a pride of bannermen and knights, of sworn swords and freeriders. 

Over their heads a dozen golden banners whipped back and forth in the northern wind, emblazoned with the crowned stag of Baratheon. Ned knew many of the riders. There came Ser Jaime Lannister with hair as bright as beaten gold, and there Sandor Clegane with his terribly burned face. The tall boy beside him could only be the crown prince, and that stunted little man behind them was surely the Imp, Tyrion Lannister. Tyrael eyes the imo cautiously, out of everyone he has seen emerge, the imp was the most dangerous one. Yet the huge man at the head of the column, flanked by two knights in the snow-white cloaks of the Kingsguard, seemed almost a stranger to Bed… until he vaulted off the back of his warhorse with a familiar roar, and crushed him in a bone-crunching hug.

“Ned! Ah, but it is good to see that frozen face of yours. " The king looked him over from top to bottom, and laughed. "You have not changed at all. “

Would Ned have been able to say the same. Fifteen years past, when they had ridden forth to win a throne, the Lord of Storm's End had been clean-shaven, clear-eyed, and muscled like a maiden's fantasy. Six and a half feet tall, he towered over lesser men, and when he donned his armor and the great antlered helmet of his House, he became a veritable giant. He'd had a giant's strength too, his weapon of choice a spiked iron warhammer that Ned could scarcely lift. In those days, the smell of leather and blood had clung to him like perfume. Now it was perfume that clung to him like perfume, and he had a girth to match his height.

Ned had last seen the king nine years before during Balon Greyjoy's rebellion, when the stag and the direwolf had joined to end the pretensions of the self-proclaimed King of the Iron islands. Since the night they had stood side by side in Greyjoy's fallen stronghold, where Robert had accepted the rebel lord's surrender and Ned had taken his son Theon as hostage and ward, the king had gained at least eight stone. A beard as coarse and black as iron wire covered his jaw to hide his double chin and the sag of the royal jowls, but nothing could hide his stomach or the dark circles under his eyes.

Yet Robert was Ned's king now, and not just a friend, so he said only, "Your Grace. Winterfell is yours." 

By then the others were dismounting as well, and grooms were coming forward for their mounts. Robert's queen, Cersei Lannister, entered on foot with her younger children. The wheelhouse in which they had ridden, a huge double-decked carriage of oiled oak and gilded metal pulled by forty heavy draft horses, was too wide to pass through the castle gate. Ned knelt in the snow to kiss the queen's ring, while Robert embraced Catelyn like a long-lost sister. Then the children had been brought forward, introduced, and approved of by both sides. As the greetings were brought forth, Lord Stark said: “My King allows me to introduce you to a young man from across the seas beyond to lands we know not." 

Stepping forward Robert and Jaime looked into the young man and both were on edge. The way he walked was of a veteran killer and the eyes they say. To Jaime it was like staring into the eyes of a king and to.Robert he clenched his fist and Tyrael.said: “Greetings your majesty, I am Tyrael Septum, Legate of his majesty the Emperor army. I mean you do no harm, or bring tidyings.”

" Then why are you here Legate Septum?” Said Robert.

" I was on an expedition for a museum of uncovering lost cultures when I discovered land off the shore to the northernmost continent known as Atmorian, which I would learn belongs to the far north of your lands. Thus I ventured southward till I reached the wall.” Said Tyrael.

The Queen said: " Impossible, no one…" Robert then said: “Hush woman! This young man’s eyes… he is not lying. Tell me young man… your eyes, you seem to have your fair share of battles.”

" Yes your majesty, I was in a war months ago and had slain a king slayer who started the war. Though he was not entirely at fault. People of another province poisoned his mind and unknowingly controlled him to do things to add to them.” Said Tyrael with a solemn expressions

Robert nodded and he said: “Do you know your parents?" 

“No sir, my mother was a noblewoman who left me a letter telling me a few things and my father was her bodyguard as she was hiding from assassins who murdered her entire family and nearly killed her, but only took her sight." Said Tyrael sadly.

Ned coughed into his hand and said: “Robert…” the King then blinked and said: "Ah yes, take me down to your crypt, Eddard. I would pay my respects." 

Though Ned loved him for that, for remembering her still after all these years. He called for a lantern. No other words were needed. The queen had begun to protest. They had been riding since dawn, everyone was tired and cold, surely they should refresh themselves first. The dead would wait. She had said no more than that; Robert had looked at her, and her twin brother Jaime had taken her quietly by the arm, and she had said no more. Tyrael shook his head and eyed the duo but he knew questions would be asked. But he blinked as a girl with golden long curls, emerald green eyes and full lips who looked like a younger version of the Queen stood before him with Tommen who looked like a miniature Joffrey: “So Septum, what is Tamriel like?" 

“I would suggest inside first your majesty. Lest we catch a cold." Said the young man and they ventured within with Tyrion following as he too was curious.

Sitting by the fireplace, Myrcella and Tommen looked eager as a servant brought Tyrion a goblet and Joffrey had a scowl as Tyrael said: “Well Tamriel is a massive container of mine provinces there is Black Marah, Cyrodil which is the seat of the Empire, Elsweyr, Hammerfell, High Rock, Morrowind, Skyrim, Summerset Isles and Valenwood. Black Marah is a dense swampland region of southeastern Tamriel, home to the reptilian humanoid race of Argonians and a race of sapient trees known as the Hist. An yes they look almost completely like a lizard and walk and talk and even think like we do, but they can breathe underwater.The Argonians thrive in the foreboding swamps of Black Marsh, a lush and threatening land teeming with poisonous plants and violent predators. The region's tropical climate lends its plants the capacity to overturn all attempts to cultivate them. Foreign agricultural, colonial, and commercial ventures beyond the slave-trade have met with abject failure. The native Argonians organize themselves on the tribal level with success and efficiency for years. Black Marsh contains various regions and a small island off the coast of the Oliis Bay. Black Marsh is located in the southeastern part of Tamriel, bordering Morrowind to the north and Cyrodiil to the west. Most of the Argonians reside in the inland waterways and swamps of the southern interior. There are few roads, and the principal method of travel is by boat. The soil composition of Black Marsh is varied. The roots of the Hist penetrate dark soil and grow through Black Marsh's soft, white limestone. Other areas house red clay. "

Joffrey then said: " So it's full of muck, sounds pitiful.”

Shaking his head, Tyrael then said: " Next we have Cyrodil, it goes by many names. Called the Imperial Province, The Dragon Empire, The Starry Heart, and Seat of Sundered King. Though commonly known as the heartland as it's a man focal point for many. The capital of both Cyrodiil and the empire, the Imperial City, is located on City Isle in the center of the province; at the heart of the city is White-Gold Tower, possibly the most renowned monument in Tamriel. A pure white column tower that has stood to the rest of time for hundred of years and has never faltered. The tower once belonged to race of beings who enslaved all and performed dark heinous acts by turning humans into artworks by dismembering them while alive. Though they would fall to the first human Empress who rose up against her masters, her birth name lost to time, but many know her as Saint Alessia, patron of the stars. As word reached to the slaves within Cyrodil of they're oppressors kin on the run in another province Alessia lead the first uprising as their oppressors government was shattered due to all the fighting. From her victory the first empire was formed and she was crowned, though her first decree was to prevent dispute upon religions to all her subjects from various races, thus the eight divines. Key gods from various provinces into one central worship.” 

" Was anyone against this?” Asked Tommen curiously.

"Some, but no one listened to them, Alessia was a benevolent woman who loved all,she would read to children, help tend to the needed, thempoeple loved her and upon her death she was named a Saint as her decision became the most prominent. Her son Belharza.would go onto rule and soon came Ami-El who stopped the uprising of the slavers. The Empires of Cyrodil would always be those chosen who stand up for what is right and those who stand for the people.” Said Tyrael as Tyrion asked: " An the others.”

" Next is Hammerfell, it is one of the most unonidly provinces as it's similar to Essos in many ways though it's diverse landscapes including beaches, jungles, grasslands, mountains, and the vast Alik'r desert. It is inhabited by the human race of Redguards, who migrated to Tamriel following the partial sinking of their homeland, Yokuda during the time their land sank to the ocean. The remains of it I am certain is east of Westeros. Most of the cities and settlements are port towns. Though the red guards are divided between the cosmopolitan, open minded Forebears and the traditionalist, isolationist Crowns. The Forebears are the descendants of the Yokudan military class, the Ra Gada, and are generally open to outside cultures such as the Imperials and Bretons; the Crowns are the descendants of the Yokudan noble class and still prefer to shun outsiders, vying to preserve the customs and culture of their ancestors. And mockery of their traditions is sentence to death of you and possibly your family.”

Hearing the sound of the gulps he then continued and said with disgust: " Next is High Rock, ugh, it's very back watered.a province in northwestern Tamriel. Most of the province is inhabited by the Bretons, who have divided the province into multiple Breton city states and minor kingdoms. High Rock has also historically contained Orsinium, the City-State of the Orcs. High Rock encompasses the many lands and clans.The rugged highland strongholds and isolated valley settlements have encouraged the fierce independence of the various local Breton clans, resisting integration into a formal province or Imperial identity. Nonetheless, their language, bardic traditions, and heroic legends are a unifying legacy. Though at times, they are as mad as the Mad King was in the court and religion is not truly practice as preach as the churches rob from the common folk to fill their private coffers and a constant new plaque washes over and kills its citizens while the nobles beg for something and the lords are to cowardly to act and order murder as the key. It was noted few kings and lords would rape children around young Tommen's age.”

Everyone went silent as the adults who entered and looked on. Tyrael then said: “But let's talk about Elsweyr, is a region that lies on the southern coast of Tamriel, and is home to the feline Khajiit. It is divided into two major climates: savannahs, badlands and dry plains in the north, and fertile lands of jungle and rainforests in the south. Originally, sixteen Khajiiti clans roamed the province, and were often simplified as belonging to a region or realm. With a combination of outside pressures and mastery of areas of expertise, it became more accurate to associate a clan with an area. Eventually, sixteen tribes became sixteen kingdoms. These clans essentially became two and were separated ideologically and geographically as what we would come to know as the two kingdoms of Anequina and Pellitine. These two kingdoms would eventually be united into the Elsweyr Confederacy, and once more separated in two kingdoms.”

Ceresin then said: “Seems your homeland is filled with freaks." 

“Be very careful your majesty, they were created in the image of our gods who have struck down for far less and for more heinous reasons. Heard one guy got hit by a bolt of lightning for calling a goddess a bitch and he exploded." Said Tyrael causing the Queen to pause for a moment.

Tyrael then said: “No we have Morrowind, though known as the Land of Ash. It is the nation northeast corner of Tamriel, and the home of the Dunmer or dark elves…” seeing the royal family surprise look hearing elves.

He continued saying: "It is dominated by the large island of Vvardenfell and its centerpiece, the ash-spewing Red Mountain, but also includes territory on the continental mainland. The Inner Sea separates Vvardenfell from the mainland, and the Sea of Ghosts lies to the region's north and east. Solstheim, an island in this sea near northwestern Morrowind, has not traditionally been associated with any particular province, though Morrowind had long maintained a theoretical claim to it. The Nords of Skyrim conceded the island to Morrowin following the eruption of Morrowind volcano of Red Mountain that turned the nations landscape and continues to speed ash to this day. The nation was once a trade station hub for slaves till it was outlawed. But for the longest they followed the law and word of three false gods who were the cause of there races suffering for hundreds of years.”

He then said: "Next we have my homeland, Skyrim. The northernmost province of Tamriel, is a cold and mountainous region also known as the Old Old Kingdom, Mereth, or the Fatherland. Many past battles have given it a ravaged appearance and many ruins. Though currently inhabited primarily by Nords or are basically human, the Elves who they replaced had resided there since time immemorial. The sovereign, the High King of Skyrim, is chosen by the Moot, a convention of jarlswho are lords who help given the province and are responding naible for there holds. A jarl is a regional ruler chosen through heredity and, rarely, through right of arms. The High King typically rules until death, though acts of dishonor, particularly the appearance of cowardice, can lead to the recall and reconsideration of the Moot. Since the the Pact of Chieftains was signed since ancient times, the Moot does not give serious consideration to anyone but the High King's direct heir unless one is not available or recently their spouse.The Nords long ago divided the province into nine geopolitical regions known as "holds". Each hold is a large area of land roughly equivalent to a county in Cyrodiil, each individually governed by a jarl who maintains court in the hold's capital city. The nine traditional holds of Skyrim are: Haafingar, Hjaalmarch, the Pale, Winterhold, Eastmarch, the Rift, Whiterun, Falkreath, and the Reach which is on the border of high rock and is usually affected by that providence state of well being a few times. In ancient times, Skyrim was ruled by the malevolent Dragon Cult. This early society revolved around the worship of dragons through intermediaries known as dragon priests, who ruled as gods above men and possessed power to control the forces of nature itself. Though during he dragon war that fought for all of Skyrim’s freedom from the tyrannical dragons with the aid of dragons who despised the way their siblings were when Alduin, the fist dragon who was born at rh dawn of creation who was known in legend to devour the old world so a new one could be birthed was defeated atop the Throat of the World, a large mountain where the air is so thin and your blood would turn to ice. The only known relic that has remained to stand th test of time in Skyrim is the Skyforge, an ancient, powerful, and still-active forge built into the living rock in modern-day Whiterun. Who built it remains a mystery, but the Elves feared it, and this led the invading Atmorans or as you may know them the first men to claim it for themselves.”

Eddard Stark strokes his chin and said: "Skyrim sounds… much like here." 

“Believe me, I say the similarities are thick as blood Lord Stark. Like the folk here, Nords are stubborn and noble. They seek to only die in battle and to live long enough without much battle is considered a crime to the gods to them." Said Tyrael as he tnen moved in and said: “Next we have the other massive Province, the Summerset Isles, though an Island Province it is home to one of Tamriel’s powerful governments beside Cyrodil, known as the Aldmeri Dominion. Summerset, also referred to as: Summerset Isle, the Eternal Isle, and Blessed Isle. It is a large island to the southwest of Tamriel's mainland. It is the largest of the three main islands in the Summerset Isles, which encompasses over a dozen more smaller islands. The province's capital city of Alinor is found here. It is full of warm climate, colorful forests, idyllic meadows, and craggy mountains. Most of the southern part of the island and a central region in the north are covered with mountains, with a central pass linking the western and eastern parts of the island. Infact it feels like a constant spring or summer. Coldness is a rare thing. The highest mountain on the island is Eton Nir, located in the northern region. Coral is abundant on the shores of Summerset Isle; the Coral Forest on the eastern shore is one of the best-known coral formations. The isle is home to the city of Alinor, the capital of the Summerset Isles and the seat of the High Elven rulers since time immemorial though the High Elves are all believing they are the gods greatest gift and everyone should be licking their shit covered boots ever hour or just roll over and die. You'll rarely come across a high elf who's not an asshole you don't want to drive your blade through them. Though mostly it's because of the Dominion, it once stood for something in ancient times, but that symbol died out. The dominion painted themselves as the saviors during a cataclysmic event over a hundred years ago. They'll do anything to get what they want, even to kill a children before their parents while the child watches their parents being tortured.”

Robert eyes hardened, though he did nothing. Tyrael then said: " An then we have Valenwood, Valenwood a densely forested, sub-tropical region that encompasses the southwestern coastal plain of Tamriel. It is a sea of endless green, a maze of foliage with half-hidden cities growing like blooms from a flower, the home of the Bosmer is Tamriel's garden.” The Bosmer or wood elves have a back.to.manipulate the trees to form their houses and the trees are sentient enough to get up and walk around these are called the Migratory. Though some of thethe wood elves practice a the elven god Y’ffre or as some call him Jepher, the god of God of Song and Forest, and the Spirit of the Now. It is known as the Green pact as they could never harm the forests of Valenwood. Do not eat anything made from plant life. Eat only meat. When enemies are conquered, their meat must be eaten, not left to rot. Do not kill wastefully. Do not take on the shape of beasts.”

Jaime then said: " What do you mean…" he nodded and said: “Yes, I did mean that. Though they perform.the acts in seclusion away from the eyes of others, but it is well known." 

After Lord Stark said it was enough and everyone sent off. That evening Tyrael stood before a foreboding Lord Stark and he told Tyrael what happened in the crypt and the young man said: “Have you accepted the betrothed?" 

“Not yet, I said I would think about it. But why did you reveal about the Provinces you told us to them?" Asked the Lord.

“Her majesty asked and I complied. The Princess wishes to know more about new lands. Besides I assured them after you told us to stop that though Tamriel has it's far share of craziness everywhere down as well. Though I think I scared the young prince about wood elves and nearly made the King slayer lose his meal." Said Tyrael making the Lord smile.

" There shall be a feast soon, I hope you are prepared. My wife wishes to know if you would be singing tonight“ apik the Warden of the North.

“May as well, though the song is something to be picked about but I have one in mind.” Said Tyrael.

Leaving Starks he returned to his room and sat down on his bed and closed his eyes and opened them to find himself standing before a large red desk as a small garden was behind the desk as lights hovered around. He was in the College of Wingerhold. Sighing he said: “Here we go again." 

Grabbing a quill and parchment he began writing and soon enough he folded the parchment and handed it to a small raven that flew off to delivery the letter. Soon enough the masters of the schools of magic had gathered and he began to discuss about Westeros and was writing another letter and sent it off with a message falcon that flew out and flew toward the east. The plan he discussed with them was to held identify what was going on and see if the damage could be reversed or be stopped.

So far ideas where minimals till he dismissed them and a notice for them to ask the pupil of their College to find the answer. 

Chapter 6: The Winterfell Dragoness Awakens

Summary:

The feast for the royal party is under way and things are shaping up and what's this secret meeting of the family.

Chapter Text

To Joanna there were times—not many, but a few—when she was glad she was a bastard. As he filled his wine cup once more from a passing flagon, it struck him that this might be one of them. And yet she noticed the look her father had given her and then to Tyrael who also gave him a look. As she settled back in her place on the bench among the younger squires and drank. The sweet, fruity taste of summer wine filled his mouth and brought a smile to his lips. The Great Hall of Winterfell was hazy with smoke and heavy with the smell of roasted meat and fresh-baked bread.

Its grey stone walls were draped with banners. White, gold, crimson: the direwolf of Stark, Baratheon's crowned stag, the lion of Lannister. A singer was playing the high harp and reciting a ballad, but down at this end of the hall his voice could scarcely be heard above the roar of the fire, the clangor of pewter plates and cups, and the low mutter of a hundred drunken conversations. At least she had a view of Tyrael who was chatting with some of the men, though earlier h chatted with Tyrion Lannister and both were in deep conversation earlier and laughing in merriment. It was the fourth hour of the welcoming feast laid for the king. Joan’s brothers and sisters had been seated with the royal children, beneath the raised platform where Lord and Lady Stark hosted the king and queen.

In honor of the occasion, her lord father would doubtless permit each child a glass of wine, but no more than that. Down here on the benches, there was no one to stop Joanna drinking as much as she had a thirst for. As she was finding that she had a man’s thirst, to the raucous delight of the youths around her. She then saw her Lord father had come first, escorting the queen. She was as beautiful as men said. A jeweled tiara gleamed amidst her long golden hair, its emeralds a perfect match for the green of her eyes. 

Her father helped her up the steps to the dais and led her to her seat, but the queen never so much as looked at her. Even at fourteen, Joan could see through her smile. Next had come King Robert himself, with Lady Stark on his arm. The king was a great disappointment to Jon. Her father had talked of him often: the peerless Robert Baratheon, demon of the Trident, the fiercest warrior of the realm, a giant among princes. Joan saw only a fat man, red-faced under his beard, sweating through his silks. 

He walked like a man half in his cups. Even Tyrael had whispered to her that the man was a shame, a shadow of a man. After them came the children. Little Rickon first, managing the long walk with all the dignity a three-year-old could muster. Joan had to urge him on when he stopped to visit. Close behind came Robb, in grey wool trimmed with white, the Stark colors. 

He had Princess Myrcella on his arm. She was a wisp of a girl, not quite eleven, her hair a cascade of golden curls under a jeweled net. Jon noticed the shy looks she gave Robb and to Tyrael as they passed between the tables and the timid way she smiled at him. He decided she was insipid. Robb didn't even have the sense to realize how stupid she was; he was grinning like a fool. Which causes Joan and Tyrael to glance at one another and give each other a knowing nod and snicker. Soon came her sisters, they escorted the Princes though Arya looked ready to kill.

Arya was paired with plump young Tommen, whose white-blond hair was longer than hers. Sansa, two years older, drew the crown prince, Joffrey Baratheon. He was close to there age of sixteen, but taller than either her or Rob but shorter than Tyrael, to Joan's vast dismay. Prince Joffrey had his sister's hair and his mother's deep green eyes. A thick tangle of blond curls dripped down past his golden choker and high velvet collar. Sansa looked radiant as she walked beside him, but Jon did not like Joffrey's pouty lips or the bored, disdainful way he looked at Winterfell's Great Hall.

Though next was the pair that came behind him: the queen's brothers, the Lannisters of Casterly Rock. The Lion and the Imp; there was no mistaking which was which. Ser Jaime Lannister was twin to Queen Cersei; tall and golden, with flashing green eyes and a smile that cut like a knife. He wore crimson silk, high black boots, a black satin cloak. On the breast of his tunic, the lion of his House was embroidered in gold thread, roaring its defiance. They called him the Lion of Lannister to his face and whispered "Kingslayer" behind his back.

Joan found it very hard for her too look away from him. This is what a king should look like, or to be like Tyrael. She saw Tyrion Lannister, the youngest of Lord Tywin's brood and by far the ugliest. All that the gods had given to Cersei and Jaime, they had denied Tyrion. He was a dwarf, half his brother's height, struggling to keep pace on stunted legs. His head was too large for his body, with a brute's squashed-in face beneath a swollen shelf of brow. 

One green eye and one black one peered out from under a lank fall of hair so blond it seemed white. Joan watched him with fascination as she remembered Tyrael mentioned that Tyrion was rumored to be just a dangerous with his mind as anyone who wields a blade as the mind is a great weapon. Though the last of the high lords to enter were her uncle, Benjen Stark of the Night's Watch, and her father's ward, young Theon Greyjoy. Benjen gave Joan a warm smile as he went by. Theon ignored her utterly, but there was nothing new in that. After all had been seated, toasts were made, thanks were given and returned, and then the feasting began.

Lord Stark then looked to Tyrael who nodded and said after happing his goblet he then said: “Lord Stark has asked me to share a ballad I know of. A friend of mine had shared this with me on my travels. The song is a tribute to those who have lost much in the great fires erupting from the mountains or to the dragons who caused grief.”

The King nodded as the Queen scoffed but looked intrigued as Joffrey was not even listening and the King said: "Proceed." 

He then began singing in a low heavy hum that everyone felt enchanted as if the hum has an echo and thus he began to sing, his voice carried a heavy tone of sadness, loneliness, empathy and compassion:

Far over the Misty Mountains cold

To dungeons deep and caverns old

We must away, ere break of day

To seek our pale enchanted gold

The dwarves of yore made mighty spells

While hammers fell like ringing bells

In places deep, where dark things sleep

In hollow halls beneath the fells

For ancient king and elvish lord

There many a gleaming golden hoard

They shaped and wrought, and light they caught

To hide in gems on hilt of sword

On silver necklaces they strung

The flowering stars, on crowns they hung

The dragon-fire, on twisted wire

They meshed the light of moon and sun

Far over the Misty Mountains cold

To dungeons deep and caverns old

We must away, ere break of day

To claim our long-forgotten gold

Goblets they carved there for themselves

And harps of gold, where no man delves

There lay they long, and many a song

Was sung unheard by men or elves

The pines were roaring on the heights

The wind was moaning in the night

The fire was red, it flaming spread

The trees like torches blazed with light

The bells were ringing in the dale

And men looked up with faces pale

The dragon's ire, more fierce than fire

Laid low their towers and houses frail

The mountain smoked beneath the moon

The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom

They fled the hall to dying fall

Beneath his feet, beneath the moon

Far over the Misty Mountains grim

To dungeons deep and caverns dim

We must away, ere break of day

To win our harps and gold from him!

The wind was on the withered heath

But in the forest stirred no leaf

There shadows lay be night or day

And dark things silent crept beneath

The wind came down from mountains cold

And like a tide it roared and rolled

The branches groaned, the forest moaned

And leaves were laid upon the mould

The wind went on from West to East;

All movement in the forest ceased

But shrill and harsh across the marsh

Its whistling voices were released

The grasses hissed, their tassels bent

The reeds were rattling--on it went

O'er shaken pool under heavens cool

Where racing clouds were torn and rent

It passed the Lonely Mountain bare

And swept above the dragon's lair

There black and dark lay boulders stark

And flying smoke was in the air

It left the world and took its flight

Over the wide seas of the night

The moon set sail upon the gale

And stars were fanned to leaping light

Under the Mountain dark and tall

The King has come unto his hall!

His foe is dead, the Worm of Dread

And ever so his foes shall fall!

The sword is sharp, the spear is long

The arrow swift, the Gate is strong

The heart is bold that looks on gold

The dwarves no more shall suffer wrong

The dwarves of yore made mighty spells

While hammers fell like ringing bells

In places deep, where dark things sleep

In hollow halls beneath the fells

On silver necklaces they strung

The light of stars, on crowns they hung

The dragon-fire, from twisted wire

The melody of harps they wrung

The mountain throne once more is freed!

O! Wandering folk, the summons heed!

Come haste! Come haste! Across the waste!

The king of friend and kin has need

Now call we over the mountains cold

'Come back unto the caverns old!

Here at the gates the king awaits

His hands are rich with gems and gold

The king has come unto his hall

Under the Mountain dark and tall

The Wyrm of Dread is slain and dead

And ever so our foes shall fall

Farewell we call to hearth and hall!

Though wind may blow and rain may fall

We must away, ere break of day

Far over the wood and mountain tall

To Rivendell, where Elves yet dwell

In glades beneath the misty fell

Through moor and waste we ride in haste

And whither then we cannot tell

With foes ahead, behind us dread

Beneath the sky shall be our bed

Until at last our toil be

passed

Our journey done, our errand sped

We must away! We must away!

We ride before the break of day!

 

As the melody ended everyone began to clap and he bowed lightly and went to his seat. As toasts were soon made, thanks were given and returned, and then the feasting began. Tyrion question Tyrael about the ballad and he said: “Well, the dwarves of the ballad could be about how to a dragon we are Dwarves compared to them, or to the ancient race of Deemer or deep elves who were reknown of enginutiy and built labyrinth cities so deep they harness the worlds inner fire to power their cities. Though they mysteriously vanished years ago and no one knows why, it's a mystery. Though one Dwener was discovered by a sickness plagues him that is chipped away at his mind sending him into fits of madness.”

Just then Tyrael watched as the direwolves entered as the snuck under the tables and joined their partners side though Fenris sat beside Tyrael clad in armor fitted for the huskies in the Dawnguard. Jaime then said: “I've never seen a hound like that." 

“It's a Frostborn Wolf, a symbol to my homelands goddess of family Mara. It's a sacred animal, killing one in Tamriel no matter your station or position in society. The death penalty awaits, no trial, no excuses. It's the same as damage a symbol or the flag of a nation.” Said Tyrael as he placed a piece of ham before Fenris who laid down and began to ear.

He looked to see Benjen and Joan talk and Robert asked Tyrael: “So laid, the way you carried yourself. A soldier." 

“Aye, for a while I traveled Skyrim after studying many things in the various providences since I could walk and helped out no matter what if I was helping an injured farmer harvesting to reaching people in need or venturing in Bandit camps to retake stolen property. Though I would soon asked to join the Imperial Legion to help end the Civil War. Unfortunately, my task was to retake a fortress from a large number of bandits. As the war progressed a cease fire had been called for as a threat to all of Providences presented itself and had to be solve or the war would be the least of everyone's worries. Once the threat was dealt with the war resumed and I was their when we took the last hold and saw the Jarl who was nothing more than an unknowing puppet of the Dominion. When the war ended I rejoined a mentor of mine as he opened a massive museum and helped lead archeological expeditions to uncover much of lost history as bat as he could.” Said Tyrael as he cut his meat.

"Oh, so your schooled?” Asked Ceresin.

" Aye, most children of the Providences no matter social standing are schooled on how to read, write and learn to count. It's a mandatory thing, though it's free but advancing one education must pay as to be a scholar or more.” Said Tyrael.

Jaime then said: "What of the current Emperor…" Tyrael then said: “Emperor Titus Mede the second… I personally never met the man outside of one encounter alongside my lead officer General Tullius, but during the great war he personally lead the armies himself and was never shy to help those in need. Unfortunately the Dominion used questionable methods and forced the Empire to yield and signed a decree… a decree they abuse every day. When I met him I saw a grizzled man who still held onto being a war yet a kind elderly man who loves his people. He was attending his cousin Victoria Vicci wedding who was encharge of the East Empire Company, a massive company of shipping goods across the seas. He knighted me for my services in the war as well as preventing the assassination of him and his cousin during the wedding.”

Ned and the children were surprised and he pulled from his waist a sword, a one handed sword that had a half-circle like guard and pommel with a duo-sided curve it it's blade and a spade like tip and a golden diamond with an inner red ruby. He then said: “This is a symbol of h Order of the LegionI was knighted to, The Imperial Dragons, a group of the elite in the entire legion. When we are called into battle, nothing stops us, for when our horns sound off the enemies of the empire coward and flee dropping their weapons hoping to survive.”

Sheathing his blade beside Ancient Tongues. Jaime then asked: “The Legion, how many would you say?" 

“Depends, we have various groups. Th Imperial Guard also referred to as the shadow legion, were charged with the sole task of ensuring the personal safety and defense of the Tamrielic Emperors and various of their direct representatives across the provinces. They were the frontline guardsman to protect the royal families. Though they're are other factions of the Imperial Guard, one being the Order of the Blades. They were the most elite Imperial army members… order dedicated to the protection and service of the empires as well as running the intelligence for the Empire as they could blend in and out of anywhere and cut down anyone who posed a threat to the Emperor or Empresses, though the order has been suspended due to the great war. Next we have the Penitus Oculatus means "The Inner Eyes." As their name suggests, they are the eyes, the sword, and the shield of the current emperor they are the current intelligence service though they are more a security force to be sent to places and make sure it is secure enough for the Emperor.” Said Tyrael as Jaime found it quite intriguing.

"Next we have the Bathlemages, and yes I do users of actual magic. They are well trained and becoming a full fledged Battlemage required the completion of a grueling training regimen. Potentials were scouted for the makings of a Battlemage and high magical affinity early on, and subsequently brought to the training grounds that are kept secret online known to the elder council, the Emperor and other high officials in the Legion or the Bathlemages themselves.The standard time of conscription was twelve years of age, though there are known cases of candidates with especially high affinity being conscripted as early as six years old and starting their training at ten. They are also key interrogators within the legion as they can practically get anyone to break.” Said Tyrael as he stroked Fenris head.

“Then we have Cygnus Irregulars, a division the Imperial Legion that mostly consists of military engineers, scouts, and trainers. Though they are not in most Frontline of combat they are heavily relied upon. An lastly alongside the army is the Imperial Navy itself. They are the aquatic force, complementing the land-based Imperial Legion. It is active during both wartime and peacetime, dealing with provinces such as Summerset in various wars and dealing with pirates in peacetime. Though many scholars work alongside the Navy itself to study and use Vexillology or flag communications between ships. Though I don't know how big the Navy and the Legion is persay, I due know the legion has occupations within every province and the occupations have at least four hundred men.”

Robert and the royal family was surprised and the Lannister was frozen, the forces of being occupation rivaled alone the entire royal army, just how vast was Tamriel. But Ned and Tyrael saw Joan and Ghost rushed off away from Benjen and saw the look of sadness in his eyes. Just then Robert called out: “Ned, how strong is this wine. It has a kick!”

" That would be the wine from Morrowind I had your majesty. Emberbrand Wine, most man can never finish the first flask without falling asleep.” Said Tyrael as the King laughed and he sipped on the goblet and Tyrion then said: “My word, this is strong." 

“I understood you Lord Tyrion and the King had stronger senses to alcohol so I had th Queen to have a brandy instead. A rare brandy that is rarely made and is extremely pricey, I had found cases of it in an old fortress cellar. Cyrodilic Brandy.” Said Tyrael as the Queen swirled her goblet and sniffed it before taking a sip and said: “Sweet and smooth, yet a cool minty taste." 

“As for Lord Stark, I thought he might like something from Skyrim itself.” Said Lord took a sip and then said: "An earthy taste, with a grapes and honey." 

Tyrael then said: “As for Lady Stark, a plum brandy and for Ser Jaime, Pomegranate Wine. But I had something for The Princes’ and the Princess as well as Lord Stark’s children. Voljar’s Honey Cider the the earth taste is replaced with the taste of apples and is low in the alcohol side.”

Seeing the children drink it and all had a pleased look on their faces. After the feast everyone watched as the king had anither goblet filled of Emberbrand and fell asleep with a loud snore. Ned laughed and patted his friends shoulder and Tyrael said: “Wow, I’ve seen men drink only one and pass out and the King drank two, impressive." 

Later entering his chamber as a hot bath was needed. Heading down a stairwell leading to the underground hotspring he noticed a familiar gown lying in a basket. A green aura covered his wands and soon it released in a pulse. As he stepped inside he heard splashing. He saw the long blonde hair and petite frame of the princess. And he said: “I am sorry for the intrusion your majesty, but I had to speak to you.”

Myrcella turned to show her nipples that were pale and had started developing and said: " Ihs fine, but could this wait till…" he then said: “Again, my apologies, but this is urgent. When you learned of Ser Jon’s death did it strike you as… unusual in anyway, surely you noticed something.”

She frowned and tilted her head and said: " No, but he did ask me about my mom and uncle Jaime one time, a moon or two before he fell ill.”

" I see, thank you, Lord Stark has asked for my aid in hoping to uncover if the former hand was murdered. I shall let you…” but he stopped and heard: " Um, can you help me. I can't wash my back.”

After washing up, he left the hot springs ans found Joanna heading for her father's solar alongside Robb and she noticed him and said: *Oh, Tyrael… father wishes to see you alongside us.”

Following them the entered the solar of Lord Stark and saw the entire Stark family savior for the ward and Rickon and Lord Stark looked to Tyrael and asked: “Tyrael…”

He nodded and touched the floor and in a shin a run emerged and said: " There, until the rune is dispelled,.nothing can hear us… so your finally telling Joanna the truth.”

“Telling me what Father… what is it you wished to say?” Asked Joan as she looked confused as did the other children and Catelyn asked: “My Lord, what do you mean?”

"Brother, what are you on about.” Asked Benjen.

Lord Stark sighed and he looked to Tyrael who was the one who gave the sound hard advice no one wanted to hear but must and the young man nodded and the Warden of he North said: "Years ago I returned with a pup to our halls Benjen, that pup was you Joanna, but you are not my direct blood. Your are not my daughter.”

Everyone froze and Joanna felt shattered, but she felt Tyrael’s hand grabbed hers and she squeezed it as he was close to tears and then the Lord continued: " During the end of the war, I ventured to the Tower of joy and their I found our sister Benjen. On her dying breath she made me promise and passed to be a bundle wrapped in cloth, a baby girl… that baby girl I would take and raise her as my daughter. That baby was high Joanna.”

Everyone minus Tyrael.froze and Arya and Sansa looked to Joanna who looked frozen and Benjen mean realized something and he said: " No… no… no, you can mean that, you don't mean…” Ned nodded and Catelyn figured it out and covered her mouth and whispered: "She is Rhaegar’s daughter…" the Stark children froze and Robb said: “Hold on, you mean the silver Prince?”

" Yes, Tyrael figured it out on his own and confronted me on the day of the message that Robert was coming.” Said Ned as all eyes where on him.

" I had my suspicion that Joanna was not Lord Stark’s actual daughter, she looked too much like Lady Lyanna, after doing some digging in history and old rumors I figured that Lyanna fled with Rhaegar as she did not wish to be with King Robert, face it that man is obsessed and his obsession would have harmed her if she had not fled. Once I told Lord Stark, I continued to uncover more into it and that's when I was searching for Bran and Arya one day, I found them in the Library hiding and they knocked off a shelf and that is when I uncovered this…” he held an old hide journal with the Stark emblem on it and said: " Lady Lyanna’s diary. Her earliest entries have almost faded, but thankfully I was able to save them and find out in the last few entries, though a few of them are not for ears to Bran here.”

Robb, Benjen, Joanna gave a look alongside the parents as the daughters blushed an Bran looked confused as Tyrael continued: "Her last entries where about her meeting with Rhaegar and Princess Elia and how they did… activities together. Elia wlecomed her with open arms and thus Rhaegar decided to bring her into his happy little world. A plan was strict unfortunately… seems that the former Lord and Branden were never meant to see it as a kidnapping, a letter was left behind. But with no letter in sight…” Benjen muttered: " It was viewed as kidnapping, you mean to tell me that our brother, our father and all those burned alive by the mad king it was all because of a…” Tyrael nodded and sat the journal down and said: " Yes… I'm sorry you have to find this out Lord Stark… whoever his that letter wanted your family to suffer “

Ned clenched his fist but shook his head and saw Joanna in a spiral of chaos. He walked to her and hugged her surprising her before she let go of Tyrael’s hand and wrapped him in a tight embrace. She began to cry as if all the pain she had endured finally broke through. Everyone knew Joan was tough as nails and to the Starks to see her this broken… it was a surprise and it scared them. Benjen clenched his fist and said: “I should've seen it, you've should have told me brother. I loved Lyanna just as much as you did." 

“I know but I promised our sister brother. Even if it stained my honor, I as gladly do it." Said Ned as Tyrael then said: “Then your honor is not tainted, you stuck true to values and beliefs. You valued your family, you held your belief and you respected your sister dying words.”

" Father does the King…" asked Arya and Ned shook his head and said: “No, and he should never find out, he is still searching for the Mad King’s last two children Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen in the free cities." 

“I've seen nobles in High Rock have more justification in their actions then the King. He practically stepped over the body of children to sit upon the throne and probably was in joy seeing their bodies. No good man would do that. I am sorry Lord Stark, but your comrade died during the war and in her s place is a sick man.” Said Tyrael.

Catelyn then said: " He is still King Ser Septum, though… you're right. My Lord, I… I don't like the proposal he has offered.”

" An yet Lord Stark can not deny the king, not only would he question it, but the Queen would see it as an insult to her family. But she might also be relieved by it. I passed Princess Myrcella by the hotspring chamber and she mentioned Jon Arryn had asked about the Queen and Ser Jaime relationship as well as who the Queen has spoken long periods of time with.” Said Tyrael seriously.

"Well cross that later, but right now it's about Joanna…” he stepped around his desk and from a trunk he pulled out Dark Sister and Benjamin gaped and said: " Is that the Targaryen family sword Dark Sister, how… it was last seen with Commander Brynden.”

"I found it on my ventured from the far northern shore among his body and his bow. I gave him a pyre funeral before venturing and past the wall. After that I found myself in Winterfell.” Said Tyrael.

" Joanna, your mother named you Visenya named after Aegon the Conqueror wife… your as much as a Stark as you are a Targaryen.” Said Ned as he outstretched the blade toward her.

Sansa then asked: " Father, if she goes around with that then…” Tyrael then said: " Which is why I had put a rune on the sheath. It will disguise the blade to resembled a normal sword so as long the blade is in the general area if the sheath. No one but she will see what it truly is, after she takes it.”

Arya and Bran said: " Wow… come Joan take it!" 

Joanna looked around and Catelyn stepped forward and Joan flinched and felt the Ladh Stark hug her surprising everyone and the lady said: “I am sorry for everything my dear, if I had known… no, part of me would have done my duty. But day by day I had seen you grown to become just like your mother, at times I thought she was here, I even see her in Arya at times and sometimes but not often in Sansa. We are your family dear and we will never abaoned you.”

Joan smiled as tears fell and as the Lady pulled away, the princess reached out and grasped the blade and everyone saw it shimmered before looking like a smaller version of ice by was looking like it was made from steel. Bran then stepped forward and said: “I am with you sis." 

“He's right, we are all with you. Your as much as my daughter as your are my niece Joan." Said Lord Stark and everyone voiced similar words and Joanna whipped her tears and thanked them all

Chapter 7: The North Howls as The Dragon Awakens

Summary:

So things are happening within House of Stark, secrets have emerged and what's Joanna doing?

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Later that night, of all the rooms in Winterfell's Great Keep, Catelyn's bedchambers were the hottest. She seldom had to light a fire. The castle had been built over natural hot springs, and the scalding waters rushed through its walls and chambers like blood through a man's body, driving the chill from the stone halls, filling the glass gardens with a moist warmth, keeping the earth from freezing. Open pools smoked day and night in a dozen small courtyards. That was a little thing, in summer; in winter, it was the difference between life and death. Catelyn's bath was always hot and steaming, and her walls warm to the touch. The warmth reminded her of Riverrun, of days in the sun with Lysa and Edmure, but Ned could never abide the heat.

The Starks were made for the cold, he would tell her, and she would laugh and tell him in that case they had certainly built their castle in the wrong place. So when they had finished, Ned rolled off and climbed from her bed, as he had a thousand times before. He crossed the room, pulled back the heavy tapestries, and threw open the high narrow windows one by one, lettin the night air into the chamber. The wind swirled around him as he stood facing the dark, naked and empty-handed. Catelyn pulled the furs to her chin and watched him. He looked somehow smaller and more vulnerable, like the youth she had wed in the sept at Riverrun, fifteen long years gone.

And yet, she also saw a man with less burdens. Catelyn had officially accepted Joanna as her daughter. Though she couldn't legally claim it, she sighed. As her duty to the King she should tell, but look at her family… she shook her head. Then she felt it, her loins still ached from the urgency of his lovemaking. It was a good ache. She could feel his seed within her.

She prayed that it might quicken there. It had been three years since Rickon. She was not too old. She could give him another son. And yet, when Tyrael wormed his way into their hearts, he became another son. Her children adored him and he was always there for the family and the people of Winterfell. 

Many called him “Tyrael Stark" as he was practically one of them now. Though Lady Stark saw her husband's mind flooded with the one issue still plaguing him, the offer of the King. 

"I will refuse him," Ned said as he turned back to her. His eyes were haunted, his voice thick with doubt.

Catelyn sat up in bed. "You cannot. You must not. "

"My duties are here in the north. I have no wish to be Robert's Hand. "

"He will not understand that. He is a king now, and kings are not like other men. If you refuse to serve him, he will wonder why, and sooner or later he will begin to suspect that you oppose him. Can't you see the danger that would put us in?"

Ned shook his head, refusing to believe. "Robert would never harm me or any of mine. We were closer than brothers. He loves me. If I refuse him, he will roar and curse and bluster, and in a week we will laugh about it together. I know the man!"

"You knew the man," she said. "The king is a stranger to you. " Catelyn remembered the direwolf dead in the snow, the broken antler lodged deep in her throat. She had to make him see. "Pride is everything to a king, my lord. Robert came all this way to see you, to bring you these great honors, you cannot throw them back in his face. "

"Honors?" Ned laughed bitterly as he looked out the window.

“In his eyes, yes," she said.

Had asked Lord Stark: "And in yours?"

"And in mine," she blazed, angry now. Why couldn't he see? "He offers his own son in marriage to our daughter, what else would you call that? Sansa might someday be queen. Her sons could rule from the Wall to the mountains of Dorne. What is so wrong with that?"

"Gods, Catelyn, Sansa are only eleven," Ned said. "And Joffrey . . . Joffrey is . . . "

She finished for him. " . . . crown prince, and heir to the Iron Throne. And I was only twelve when my father promised me to your brother Brandon. "

That brought a bitter twist to Ned's mouth. "Brandon. Yes. Brandon would know what to do. He always did. It was all meant for Brandon. You, Winterfell, everything. He was born to be a King's Hand and a father to queens. I never asked for this cup to pass to me. "

"Perhaps not," Catelyn said, "but Brandon is dead, and the cup has passed, and you must drink from it, like it or not. “

“Perhaps not," Catelyn said, "but Brandon is dead, and the cup has passed, and you must drink from it, like it or not. “

Ned turned away from her, back to the night. He stood staring out in the darkness, watching the moon and the stars perhaps, or perhaps the sentries on the wall. Catelyn softened then, to see his pain. Eddard Stark had married her in Brandon's place, as custom decreed, but the shadow of his dead brother still lay between them, though the shadow of his sister has now vanished. She was about to go to him when the knock came at the door, loud and unexpected. Ned turned, frowning. "What is it?”

Desmond's voice came through the door. "My lord, Maester Luwin is without and begs urgent audience. And Ser Septum is with him and both seemed worried.”

“You told him I had left orders not to be disturbed?” Ned asked the guardsman.

The guard replied and said: “Yes my Lord, and Ser Septum is wearing a blindfold for.some unknown reason." 

“Just in case I was about to see something I shouldn't." Said Tyrael seriously though it sounded like a joke.

The Lord and Lady chuckled/giggled at this and Ned crossed to the wardrobe and slipped on a heavy robe. Catelyn realized suddenly how cold it had become and saw her husband handed her a robe. She sat up in bed and pulled the robe around her and the furs to her chin. "Perhaps we should close the windows," she suggested.

Ned nodded absently. Maester Luwin was shown in. The maester was a small grey man. His eyes were grey, and quick, and saw much. His hair was grey, what little the years had left him. His robe was grey wool, trimmed with white fur, the Stark colors. It's great floppy sleeves and pockets hidden inside. Luwin was always tucking things into those sleeves and producing other things from them: books, messages, strange artifacts, toys for the children. With all he kept hidden in his sleeves, Catelyn was surprised that Maester Luwin could lift his arms at all. The maester waited until the door had closed behind him before he spoke. "My lord," he said to Ned, "pardon for disturbing your rest. I have been left a message." 

“Though it's dire and urgent." Said Tyrael as he stepped out from behind still wearing the blindfold.

Ned looked irritated. "Been left? By whom? Has there been a rider? I was not told." 

"There was no rider, my lord. Only a carved wooden box, left on a table in my observatory while I napped. My servants saw no one, but it must have been brought by someone in the king's party. We have had no other visitors from the south. “ Said the Maester and Tyrael nodded and said: " I've checked for tracks or any signs of disturbance. So far I only saw where the rug was corner disturbed from when the person reached over to place the box. It had to have been someone from the royal party. One of the servants… most likely under orders from someone not of the royal family.”

“A wooden box, you say?" Catelyn said.

" Yes ma’am we've checked over for no traps, poisons or diseases, not even any magic or curses." Said Tyrael with Luwin nodding.

"Inside was a fine new lens for the observatory, from Myr by the look of it. The lenscrafters of Myr are without equal.” Said the elderly man.

Ned frowned. He had little patience for this sort of thing, Catelyn knew. "A lens," he said. "What has that to do with me?”

 

"I asked the same question," Maester Luwin said. "Clearly there was more to this than the seeming.”

"We discovered a false bottom when Luwin dismantled the box itself. Seems the lens was a message to look for secrets within plain sight. That did explain something strange, Jon was investigating what was hiding in plain sight with the royal family since he was Princess Myrcella about her mother and uncle." Said Tyrael.

Luwin then said: " Though the message which we uncovered is marked to lady Catelyn, young Tyrael here saw it was a coded message for her eyes as he held the envelope over a candle and saw words one though the phrasing was unique.”

Tyrael produced an envelope with a blue wax seal with a moon and falcon, the symbol of House Ardyn and she said: “It's from Lysa. " Catelyn looked at her husband. "It will not make us glad," she told him. "There is grief in this message, Ned. I can feel it.”

Ned frowned, his face darkening. "Open it." 

As she broke the very seal. Her eyes moved over the words. At first they made no sense to her. Then she remembered. "Lysa took no chances. When we were girls together, we had a private language, she and I.”

"Can you read it?" Asked Tyrael.

"Yes," Catelyn admitted.

“Then tell us. This could be serious.” Said Ned as he was worried.

Before the Maester could say anything Tyrael looked to him and nodded to the man who understood the message and remained silent. Ned crossed the room, took her by the arm, and pulled her to her feet. He held her there, his face inches from her. "My lady, tell me! What was this message?”

Catelyn stiffened in his grasp. "A warning," she said softly. "If we have the wits to hear. “

Tyrael then said: “I say we do, Jon Arryn death is too timely during an investigation he was conducting.”

“Lysa says Jon was murdered.” Said Catelyn as she walked over to the fire and put a log on it and Ned asked: " By whom?”

" The Lannister. The Queen. My sister may be impulsive, yes, but this message was carefully planned, cleverly hidden. She knew it meant death if her letter fell into the wrong hands. To risk so much, she must have had more than mere suspicion. " Catelyn looked at her husband. "Now we truly have no choice. You must be Robert's Hand. You must go south with him and learn the truth.”

She saw at once that Ned had reached a very different conclusion. "The only truths I know are here. The south is a nest of adders I would do better to avoid. “

Luwin plucked at his chain collar where it had chafed the soft skin of his throat. "The Hand of the King has great power, my lord. Power to find the truth of Lord Arryn's death, to bring his killers to the king's justice. Power to protect Lady Arryn and her son, if the worst be true." 

“But the hand will have just as many enemies, some faces wearing the mask of friendship. But the wolf senses when a threat is near Lord Stark. If you accept, you must not ignore the foreboding feeling of a knife to your throat." Said Tyrael seriously.

Ned glanced helplessly around the bedchamber. Catelyn's heart went out to him, but she knew she could not take him in her arms just then. First the victory must be won, for her children's sake. "You say you love Robert like a brother. Would you leave your brother surrounded by Lannisters?”

"My brother… is not the man I knew." Ned and Luwin spoke, saying: “Maybe my Lord, but would you leave the realm only to the hands of the Lannisters?”

"Especially Joffrey, that look in his eyes… no one should have the look of someone who enjoys tormenting people and savioring it. I've seen that look in monsters who parade as friends. For all we know the Lannisters could very much be planning the King’s demise to make it seem like an accident. I've heard tales that noble families of High Rock would gut someone if it meant to gain power and favor.“ Said Tyrael seriously.

"The Others take the three of you," Ned muttered darkly. He turned away from them and went to the window. She did not speak, nor did the maester. They waited, quiet, while Eddard Stark said a silent farewell to the home he loved. When he turned away from the window at last, his voice was tired and full of melancholy, and moisture glittered faintly in the corners of his eyes. "My father went south once, to answer the summons of a king. He never came home again. “

“Yes, but that was to the monster, not to a shadow of a man. Though it may be a different time, with a different king. A similar knife is poised in the air.” Said Tyrael with Luwin nodding in agreement.

"Yes," Ned said dully. He seated himself in a chair by the hearth. "Catelyn, you shall stay here in Winterfell." 

His words were like an icy draft through her heart. "No," she said, suddenly afraid. Was this to be her punishment? Never to see his face again, nor to feel his arms around her?

“Yes," Ned said, in words that would brook no argument. "You must govern the north in my stead, while I run Robert's errands. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell. Robb is fourteen. Soon enough, he will be a grown man. He must learn to rule, and I will not be here for him. Make him part of your councils. He must be ready when his time comes. “

“I suggest leaving Bran as well. Though he shows skill with a bow, he'd be in more harm in the south than Robb would. Sansa and Arya would be better chosen and me and Joanna can go and act as their bodyguards." Said Tyrael.

Ned remained silent and looked to Luwin and said: “Maester Luwin, I trust you as I would my own blood. Give my wife your voice in all things great and small. Teach my son the things he needs to know. Winter is coming. "Maester Luwin nodded gravely. Then silence fell, until Catelyn found her courage and asked the question whose answer she most dreaded. "What of the other children?"

Ned stood, and took her in his arms, and held her face close to his. "Rickon is very young," he said gently. “I will need Tyrael's council.”

"If the King asked about the marriage proposal, well say it's a trial of sorts, that if it does work out then it happens, but if it isn't meant to be then no bad blood. Let the gods decide for it.” Said Tyrael. 

Ned nodded and said: " A sound notion. But we give them no grounds to suspect our devotion. And it is past time that Arya learned the ways of a southron court. In a few years she will be of an age to marry too." 

“But she'll hardly listen. Knowing her she'll cause a bit of mischief." 

Everyone nodded and they knew Sansa would shine in the south, Catelyn thought to herself, and the gods knew that Arya needed refinement. Reluctantly, she let go of them in her heart. But not Bran. Never Bran. "Yes," she said, "but please, Ned, for the love you bear me, please keep our children safe.”

Ned kissed the tears from her eyes before they could fall and said: “This is hard, I know.”

“What of Joanna Snow, my lord?" Maester Luwin asked.

The patriarch and matriarch looked to him and said: “It is as Tyrael suggested, she'll travel with us an act as Sansa guard while Tyrael… who seemed to be the only one to get Arya to do anything she doesn't want to do…” said young man had a big smile on his face Lord Stark finished: " Will be her guard. But… I fear for her… there will be no true place for her. A girl with a bastard’s name… you know what they will say of her. She will be shunned. “

“As long as we are by her side, Lord Stark, she'll stand tall and strong." Said Tyrael, making the Lord feel relieved.

Catelyn armored her heart against the mute appeal in her husband's eyes. "They say your friend Robert has fathered a dozen bastards himself. "

"And none of them has ever been seen at court!" Ned blazed. "The Lannister woman has seen to that." 

“And I fear they may be endangered as well, they have some claim to being the King's heir if what Ser Jon was investigating was that the Queen's children are not the King's. She'll have them all hunted and killed if they are discovered." Tyrael said darkly as he saw Lord Stark clenched his fist and the eyes of a loyal hound were seen.

"We'll cross that bridge when it comes to Tyrael. Though my men spoke of you talking to two men they didn't recognize two days before the King's arrival?" Said Ned.

“Ah… Rune and Thrynn, old colleagues of mine… they help uncover what happened to missing things. Three are pretty good at what they do. I've called them for their expertise to find something.” Said Tyrael. 

Back in his chambers Tyrael was resting by the fireplace sipping some tea as he eyed the flames. He had sent Rune and Thrynn to find two things, Brightroar, the sword of the Lannister family and the crown of Queen Rhaella. Sipping his tea he looked on and sighed as he rolled his shoulder and rested. Just then a knock was heard and he said: “Come in." 

He saw Joanna entering with her silk nightgown she rarely wore and he tilted his head and asked: " Joanna is everything, alright.”

 

-Lemon Warning-

 

Joanna lunged and kissed Tyrael feverishly as she was hungry for the taste of his lips as she whimpered feeling his hands roamed her body. Grabbing her night dress with both hands with a powerful pull it was split in two and thrown to the floor. Joanna squeaked and Christina vered her bust and crotch though they were covered by her underwear/small clothes still. She wore a bra and panties made of cotton. She blushed and looked away, soon she heard the sound of clothes falling and turned to blush even harder as her entire face glowed lightly, they're she saw Tyrael standing before her nude as pointing upward was her first ever cock, standing as tall and covered in veins as it twitched. She looked a bit afraid but yet aroused, so aroused something within her told her to kneel and please the specimen before her like a king, like a god.

She walked toward him and dropped to her knees and paled seeing it was big as a plate and thick as two fingers. She gulped nervously and she felt his hand stroking her hair and he said: “You don't have to…” though she blushed and said: " No, I want to… I want you so much. My blood… my mind… it yearns for you and my loins crave for your touch. Please…” she didn't say a word as she rubbed her cheek against his cock and breath hotly on it.

He shuddered and Joanna didn't know what she could or would do much. She felt compelled as her tongue was sticking out she began licking and sucking on his hanging balls causing him to groan in bliss. Releasing them though she was reluctant she trailer her tongue up and down his cock tasting and catching long whiffs of his musk which was causing her maidenhood to spasm her eyes crossed. As she stopped licking she began leaving a trail of kisses and soon took the tip within her mouth and began rolling her tongue around the head of his cock while giving the occasional suck. She then began to bob her head and slowly take more than just the head into her mouth. But soon she felt him grab her head and then she felt his cock being slammed down her throat and she heard him growl as he pulled her head back and pulled it back in and his eyes turned golden.

He kept repeating the process and Joanna eyes rolled as his toes found her cunt and they began to probe her lips and flick her clit. She moaned happily feeling this, trashing him. All she could think as this went on: ‘So good.’

After a while a hot jet stream of his baby batter erupted into her mouth she looked surprised but welcomed it as she had her own orgasm that drenched her panties after being skull fucked by the man she loved. Pulling away to breath as she gasped and tried to catch her breath she noticed he was still as harder than every and his cock looked angry. She squeal as she was picked up and tossed onto his bed, she moved back as he crawled to her and grabbed her underwear and with one swift motion, it was torn from her hips as her bra followed suit exposing her small borderline modest bust with reddish pink nipples that were inverted and an barely kept trimmed bush around her muff. She covered herself and he climbed above her and pushed her limbs aside and aligned his cock head at her entrance. Fear was in her eyes but that vanished as lips met and his tongue began dominating her mouth as he slammed in one thrust over half his length as that as all could fit and she pulled back and cried out as he took her virginity an started squirting hard. As she spasmed his head lowed and he began nippling and sucking on her areolas and grunted as he felt her stop spasming.

He then said: “You are mine." 

She nodded and moaned as he being moving his hips back and forth as her legs were put onto his shoulders and his hands found her breast and began fondling them. With each thrust Joanna slowly felt him pick up speed and power. She shuddered after every tenth thrust he would scrap a specific spot on her going in and out. Joanna gasped feeling his fingers dig into her areolas and began twisting and hugging her nipples, she squirmed and shook as he then started sucking and grind his teeth on her nipples as h continued fucking her. Joanna was in a pleasure overload and she cried out in orgasm: “TYRAEL!"

Instantly flipping her over as she was on all fours he began pounding into her ass like a lumberjack swinging his axe into a tree chunk hoped on Moon Sugar and Skooma. Joanna moaned louder as she felt her ass being the wall that took his thrust as well as her cunt taking the massive heated rod he possessed but soon she jumped feeling his fingers probe and praud her rose bud making her shudder but she moaned out as she felt his hand smacked her hard on her ass. Then it happened again, again, and again and with every smack she started to match his thrust as she went in and when she came out when he pulled back he smacked again. He kept repeating this and began rotating cheeks and kept going and going as she started wagging her hips till her cheeks turned red and she moaned happily. He kept pounding away and leaned forward and returns fondling her breast and tweaked her nipples before growling he bit her neck causing her to gasp as he slammed his entire length inside of her breaching her womb and nearly shoving his cock into her uterus as she cried out gushing to once more from her pussy and felt him erupt into her causing some of his seed to trickle out. Grunting he was down and smacked her ass once more before continuu g surprising her as she felt completely exhausted and squeaked.

Flipping her into a mating press he began fucking her sensless after she came once again and with the angle his cock kept hitting her g-spot with every thrust sending her into a spiral of orgasm after ever few thrust. Her mind began going numb, her senses slowly dying and she didn't care, she wanted this. She wanted to be claimed. She wanted his heart, his mind, his soul, his body, his love now and she wanted his cock more. Her tongue hanged out as her eyes rolled back and all she could do was babble incoherently or beg for more. And he gave it to her, he gave it to her till it was half way till dawn when he switched positions once more and started fucking her normally.

Joanna moaned out: “Please my dragon, plant your seed in me, let me bear your pups. Mark me as yours so no one laying with me.”

He then roared out though if he had put runes in his room for privacy the entire keep would have heard his beastly roar as Joanna cried out as her womanhood gushed like a waterfall drenching their sweaty bodies in her fluids. Joanna eyes where crossed and she spasmed for a while even after he stopped she was still spasming. He leaned over her lips and gave her a kiss making her moan and he turned them away very so she was on his chest though still connected. Unknowingly to them, above her crotch right over where her womb would be a two dragon ns forminh a heart with three wings spread out, the mark gave off a soft glow before dying. Though if when looked at her belly she looked three months pregnant and unconsciously she brought a hand to her stomach and rubbed it before falling asleep.

 

-Lemon End-

 

Hearing the soft snores of Joana as she was bare as the day she was born and her small clothes torn asunder as she clung to him, he smiled and kissed her forehead and soon drifted into the realm of dreams himself only to find himself standing by a crying Daenerys who cried into her pillow. He walked toward her and asked: “Dany?" 

Hearing the sniffling, he saw her turn and his eyes turned golden seeing a massive bruise on her face. Grabbing her cheek his hands glowed and she felt the stinging sensation go away and muttered: " Thank you Tyrael.”

" Who did this?”

She muttered weakly: " Viserys, he got a little heated when discussing the agreement struck with Khal Drogo.”

"Do you wish for it to happen? This shame of a marriage, even if your brother is an heir for the throne. He is stricken with madness, I have seen it… his mind is broken and can never be fixed Dany. He shows only a sick twisted obsession with you every day and this deal is showing the man he truly is.” Said Tyrael seriously.

" But what can I do, I can't just…" she said as she clutched her bed sheets and she heard the chest emerged and saw him reach inside and he said: “It's funny how you can interact with some things and yet…” he laughed bitterly and said: " Trust me, I've done this bit before. But here…” he handing her a gold coin, a very old golden coin that had ten sides and had the face of a short haired man with a goatee.

On the back was a dragon in a diamond formation as on the heads side was the words “The Empire is Law, The Law is Sacred” though on the back it says: "Praise be Akatosh and all the divines.”

He then said: “This is my lucky coin, it has brought me good fortune in critical times. And I want you to have it." 

She looked surprised and was about to speak but he raised his hand and said: “You'll need it. I guess our time is over…* he was fading and he said with a smile and said: “Be strong Dany, I'll come and find you. And that's a promise." 

Once he faded she clutched the coin tightly and laid back down on her bed and eyes the coin. She noticed it had sinks in it and slight scratches on it showing it was very old. Just then she heard the sound of someone tripping and the sound of her brothers crying out and she paused before looking at the coin as a loud splash was heard and she blinked. The coin almost gave off an unusual sheen to it and yet, she clutched the coin and focused on the dragon side. She had once told him Akatosh was a dragon, chief of his gods and governed the radiance of the sun and time itself as his children, the dragons are synced with the sounds of time and watch it. She clutched the coin and said with tears in her eyes: “Lord Akatosh, High father of dragons… please… help me.”

Unknowingly if she noticed the light from outside gave off a deep bright shine and soon a gentle breeze blew in and she felt something. Opening her eyes she looked around and felt like she was in the arms of Tyrael that made her feel safe despite his was a semi-projection. But this one… it felt like, like the feeling she once fell long ago. She then heard: “Fear not my child… you are under my wings my lost wounded child.”

Notes:

Lemon produced and yes Dany has the Old Man's Coin. It just doesn't help with critical it helps luck in general such as good fortune. Don't worry about her folks, her safety is assured an yes I did include members of the thieves guild to find those items. The reason mentioning now is for plot and didn't want to actually mentioning it.

Chapter 8: Crossing Blades For Someone

Summary:

So yeah a night of passion followed up by training and what is going on in the yard.

Chapter Text

As morning began to rise, Joanna groaned and winced hard as she felt her entire body cramp, scream, burn and ache. Her mind was soon flooded with what happened last night and she couldn't believe what had happened. She covered her face with the furs of the bed and whispered: “He must think of me as a whore." 

“Actually I don't… " she squeaked and looked to see him up and dressed though he had a some of her things beside him as he sipped some tea and he said: “Don't worry about the tea, kinda hard for me to get you pregnant when it's not dragon mating season.”

Joanna blinked and he said: “the third and fourth months of the year." 

She paused and sighed and asked: “Did I…” he interrupted her and said: " You were amazing as you are beautiful.”

He walked over and kissed her and she returned it and he pressed her head to hers and said: " I wish to spend more time here with you, but… we don't have the time. Lord Stark asked to see you. In here…” he pulled out a yellow vial and said: "Dulls down the pain and soreness and make you feel a bit more energetic.”

She nodded and took the potion and downed it as her lips picked as it tasted like spiced honey and lemon juice. Smacking her lips she saw him leave but stopped at the door and he then said: " When I but.down last night, I've marked you… like any animal does to their mate. I marked you and you became mine. It acts as a protection keeping sexual affiliated drugs from effecting you and preventing others from raping you. If they try to force their cocks inside, they'll lose them. The mark also has some other features though, I have no idea what they are, I'll have to ask someone I know later about it.”

She nodded and climbed out and walked strutting herself and turned her head and they shared a kiss before he pulled away and said: " Best hurry, before someone else comes for you “

Leaving his room Joanna sighed happily as she spun around and ran her hands down her body. Unknowing outside Tyrael smirked in a dark triumphant as it was the dragon within him that was satisfied. He knew the rest about the mark, the stronger the dragon was who made the mark the mate who received it would be more highly open to suggestions if not accepting any and all suggestions from their mate. But also allow their body to fill out more for their mate to make their ideal more appealing to them. For dragons it was simple flying, power and the shine of their scales. For humans it was personality, intelligence, body or power. Meanwhile as Arya was stitching, she noticed they had become highly decent ever since Tyrael taught her that sometimes needlework was mostly needed to stitch open wounds and repair armor. Catelyn had seen her improvement and was impressed as was Sansa. Though Sansa’s needlework was exquisite. Everyone said so. "Sansa's work is as pretty as she is," Septa Mordane told their lady mother once. "She has such fine, delicate hands. " When Lady Catelyn had asked about Arya, the septa had sniffed. "Arya has the hands of a blacksmith." 

But Tyrael mentioned that even blacksmiths had to be steady with a needle if they wished to finish their creations. Arya glanced furtively across the room, worried that Septa Mordane might have read her thoughts, but the septa was paying her no attention today. She was sitting with Princess Myrcella, all smiles and admiration. It was not often that the septa was privileged to instruct a royal princess in the womanly arts, as she had said when the queen brought Myrcella to join them. Arya thought that Myrcella's stitches looked a little crooked too, but you would never know it from the way Septa Mordane was cooking. She studied her own work again, she smiled as it was better than the crappy job she used to pull even the Septa had noticed it and Arya sighed and wished for a distraction.

She looked to see Sansa was chatting away happily as she worked. Beth Cassel, Ser Rodrik's little girl, was sitting by her feet, listening to every word she said, and Jeyne Poole was leaning over to whisper something in her ear. Tilting her head she walked over “What are you talking about?" Arya asked suddenly.

Jeyne gave her a startled look, then giggled. Sansa looked abashed. Beth blushed. No one answered. 

"Tell me," Arya said.

Jeyne glanced over to make certain that Septa Mordane was not listening. Myrcella said something then, and the septa laughed along with the rest of the ladies. Thus her sister looked to her “We were talking about the prince, and Tyrael." Sansa said, her voice soft as a kiss.

Arya knew which prince she meant: Joffrey, of course. The tall, handsome one. Sansa got to sit with him at the feast. Arya had to sit with the little fat one. Naturally. Though when she mentioned Tyrael it was more passionate than Joffrey. 

Even the other girls all sighed with her sister in a daydream away thinking about them, even Arya did as well. Who wouldn't. Everyone practically calls him the “Stark in all but blood” their father practically treats him like a son, Bran and Rickon look up to him just as much as they do their father. Robb has a friendly rivalry with him and Joanna, there might be their respect for him and the council he gives to their father. 

"Joffrey likes your sister," Jeyne whispered, proud as if she had something to do with it. She was the daughter of Winterfell's steward and Sansa's dearest friend. "He told her she was very beautiful. “

Arya wrinkled her nose, Tyrael told them to be wary of Joffrey even their own wolves are cautious of him.

“He wants to marry her," little Beth said dreamily, hugging herself. "Then Sansa will be queen of all the realm. Though the King and Lord Stark agreed on a trial run as they call it to see it works out.”

Sansa had the grace to blush. She blushed prettily. She did everything prettily, Arya thought with dull resentment. "Beth, you shouldn't make up stories," Sansa corrected the younger girl, gently stroking her hair to take the harshness out of her words. She looked at Arya. "What did you think of Prince Joff, sister?" 

“Joanna says he looks like a girl and Tyrael called him a milk-drinker, meaning someone who is weak and a coward. Who may also run to his mother's bosom to get her to fix everything.” Said Arya.

Myrcella even snorted unlady-like and the girls looked at her and Arya then said: "You serious?”

The princess nodded with a blush of embarrassment about her elder brother. Just then a knock was heard and Tyrael entered and Sansa and Arya then said: “Tyr!?" 

“Hey you too, time for your training. Sorry Septa Mordane for intruding, but it's time for their self-defense lessons.” Said Tyrael with a bow.

“Of course, the girls are finished with their stitching and I must say Arya has greatly improved." Said the Septa as Tyrael smiled and patted the girl's head and said: “Well, my lessons might have helped with her patience ma’am."

"You literally had to use fish for a few lessons.” Said Arya flatly and he said: " And did it not teach you patience and your sister to focus on her surroundings when I took her into the woods and threw snowballs at her?”

Both girls looked sheepish and Myrcella then asked: “Un, why are you teaching them how to fight?" 

He bowed and said: “To defend themselves Princess, a knight will always not be nearby and they may find themselves in a situation that requires them to fight to protect themselves." 

As he waited outside their girls room they came out in some simple leather form fitting attire for them and some fur cloak and he led them outside as Nymeria, Lady and Fenris waited for them by the door to the courtyard wagging their tails. Once outside he stepped out with Fenris beside him and he said: " I'm glad you two are getting these lessons, but now there's one last lesson.”

From his cloak he pulled out a long bundle and set it down and unraveled it and laying inside of it was a metal object of the same length with golden accent. And besides them was a borderline dagger/short-sword that looked to be made from ice. The blade had silver curved wavy guard with the base of the blade slightly curved and comes out into a smooth edge with a fine long tip. It had a black handle with markings along the handle. The pommel was narrow at the handle but widens out. Etched into the blade was language she knew not. Beside it was a beautiful black sheath with silver decor with a wolf on it. He took the blade and sheathed it and said: “Arya, this is yours… Joanna and I made this just for you. She thought to call it Stinging Nettle, but I inscribed the name of it by hand on the blade. The blade is made from Stalhrim, while the handle is made from silver and is enchanted ice equal to dragonglass, it's enchanted like your sister's fans. The enchantments are to help you overcome something stronger than you, your foes will feel the cold poisoning embrace of the shadows upon being cut and feel their health slowly failing them as if you feel weak, you will be revitalized. This is a weapon to protect not only you, but your family as well.”

She grabbed it and nodded her head and Tyrael and he took object and opened them to reveal them and said: " Sansa, these are Tessen or War fans, designed similar to the ones in Akaviri, a dangerous place where humans or any species are not welcomed kindly. The metal is made from dragon glass… or obsidian” with a flick they opened to reveal a metallic inside and a design that was seen through of a wolf and he said: " This will always return to you. When you face your foes with these they will feel a cold burning sensation of the sun and will feel more exhausted and you will feel energized. The sword's name is Skõll and the fan's name is Halti. They are sister weapons belonging to you both.”

He passed the fan to Sansa who took it and he smiled and said: " The final test is to see how you two properly use them… on the dummy “

The turned to the practice dummy he had built that was far sturdier and had multiple appendages and could rotate in various ways. The girls eyed it and readied themselves and charged with grace and speed. Both their fighting styles where similar though Arya was more nimble and Sansa flexible they complimented each other like night and day. It's why he made those weapons, he smiled with pride on how they fought in sync, though Sansa used more of the open palm martial arts with her fan can be used like a dagger as well. Arya was taught fencing and normal sword play. Within an hour the girls painted as the dummy could speed up the more you hit it and both were beaten and he clapped and said: “Well done girls, well done." 

Both smiled and they heard: “What is this!" 

Turning they saw the royal party and the Stark family and Tyrael said: “Self-defense training your Highness… a knight will not always be there to protect a maiden nor will being seen harmless would keep them alive.”

He then looked at the girls and said: "You girls are finished and well done to both of you. Unfortunately that is all I can teach you as the other fighting styles I know are not suited for either of you. Remember the both of you to be as nimble and flexible as the wins itself. “

Joffrey scoff and said: “What ridiculous thing, a woman has no place on the battlefield " 

Tyrael laughed and said: “Oh sorry I apologize your majesty let me try again…” he began laughing louder and smack his knee before saying: " Oh man, tell any woman I know that you'd find your own head literally shoved up the ass of a mammoth after they took a shit or during.”

The Prince and Royal family turned a bit green in the face but Tyrion imaging Joffrey in the predicament and couldn't help but snort quietly. Tyrael looked at him and asked: “Is something wrong your majesty, I thought you might find it appealing that a maybe fiance is more than capable of keeping herself and any future offspring you two may have if the knights fail?" 

Joffrey scoffed and said: " A woman has no business in the field of combat.”

Tyrael barked out a laugh and he said: " Tell me this your majesty, there are many fields of combat. The combat of war is one, the combat of mentality is another, the combat of one's own self and the combat of one's own struggles. So tell me your majesty, you sure about that. Because I do not like it when my comrades are talked down upon. If you believe you are better than them, how about a competition then?”

"What kind of competition?” Said the Prince.

"I propose a duel. Then real steel, no armor. Winner is decided by either yielding or destroying weapons.” Said Tyrael. 

“I accept, but what are the stakes?" Said Joffrey.

“What do you wager, cause I wager this…” from his coat he produces a marvelous blade.

The blade holy and guard were one piece being a blade of orange that looked like amber with dark curved guard and handle that was spiraled with orange and an orange pommel. Tyrael then said: “This blade is made from a material stronger than obsidian, Amber so refined with natural mystical properties it is sharper and more durable than steel. The weapon alone is worth three thousand gold.”

He then swung it and severed the training dummy in half right down the middle and the blade had not broken or lost the sharpness to it. Sheathing it in a green and black sheath he said: “So your majesty, what do you wager?”

Tyrael saw Joffrey eyes the blade intensely and saw his wild fantasies play out. Joffrey smiled and looked toward his sister and he said: “My sister's hand in marriage for when I'm king." 

That stumped everyone, Tyrion choked on his wine, King Robert’s face started to turn red, Jaime eyes widened, Ceresi looked livid, Myrcella looked horrified that her brother would do such a thing, Tommen tilted his head in confusion at this. The Stark family had looks of surprise and like the Prince was foolish, though the Stark females Joanna, Sansa and Arya looked livid and ready to hit someone. Tyrael eyes her and gives her a sympathetic look and he said: “Though she is very beautiful any man would be lucky to have her. But I am not one to view life as a simple object. Try again." 

He scoffed and said: "Money, twice as much as that sword.*

“Then we have an accord…” he stretched his hand and Joffrey shook it.

He walked over and grabbed a sword and Tyrael had in his hand a black sheath with silver accent sheath. Grasping the blade and gray hilt he unsheathed it to reveal a slight curved one edged blade that absorbs sunlight. As they walked out into the center of the yard both never left the other's sight and both ignored everyone else. Joanna then muttered: *Please be safe, Tyrael.”

Out in the yard Joffrey and Tyrael circled one another wielding real steel swords. That Joffrey wielded a normal sword for himself, Tyrael wielded a katana. Lord and Lady Stark watched with their children as did the royal family beside them, Jaime Lannister was to be the one to make sure it didn't get out of hand. Tyrael shopped and bone rushed him taking a motion to put his back to his hip. Joffrey, seeing this, swung, but Tyrael tossed his blade up and leaned and waved around before spinning and catching the blade and pressing it to the Prince’s neck. A bead of sweat dropped from the Prince forehead and the prince snarled and swatted it away and spun, but Tyrael fucked and elbowed him in the face and he said: “In the field of combat your majesty, the blade is not only weapon you have. You have your mind and your entire body at your disposal."

Joffrey roared and took wild swings at him but he easily side stepped, stepped back, ducked, and then grabbed the blade with his bare hand and gripped it tightly so that Joffrey couldn't get free. Tyrael then said: “You're sloppy, you're predictable, you helegraphy every movement you make. Your footwork is horrible, I suggest taking dance lessons, it does wonders with endurance and stamina. The ladies love it.”

Joanna blushed and looked away, no one saw this but her aunt who was surprised and knew they needed to talk about such things. Tyrion laughed and raised his goblet and Jaime gave a bolster of a laugh as did the King. Joffrey swung a fist at him, only to get a foot to his chest and knocked his flag on his back and his sword tossed beside him. Joffrey got up with his back crying vered in snow and he saw red. He thought: "HOW DARE THIS FOREIGN LOWBORN TRASH MAKE A MOCKERY OF ME!”

Tyrael, seeing the anger, took a deep stance and rested his sword at his side in a drawing stance. Joffrey roared and charged and then it happened. What happened to the neck was so fast no one saw it. Joffrey's sword locked out of his hand and flung into the air before stabbing into the ground and upright. Joffrey looked pale as a ghost as Tyrael's blade edge rested on his chin and the katana pointed at his neck. But then he felt the cold air on his legs and the Queen shouted: " Joffrey, your trousers!”

Joffrey looked down and he gaped in horror as his legs were bare and his ass was in view to all. Tommen and Rickon both laugh at his embarrassment Tyrion was choking on his wine, Jaime shook his head but his eyes traveled to the discarded blade. No normal.person should do that with ease and it unnerves him. Robert was laughing hard as Myrcella giggled covering her mouth, Ceresi had a look of shame and was glaring heatedly at Tyrael as he joined the Starks, though what surprised them was the wolves all sounding like they were laughing at the prince as they rolled in the snow.

Along the way he thought: ‘Baby Weiner, no wonder he never tried for sex… he didn't have anything to offer.’

Bran was surprised by how easily Tyrael won, Robb was faking his laugh with a cough, Sansa covered her mouth with a giggle as Arya was snorting out a laugh. Ned shook his head but had a smirk as Catelyn had a scowl on her face looking at what happened. But Joanna gave him a raised brow and he said: “What, can't a guy defend a lady’s honor?" 

In Joanna's room as she finished her soak she looked into her mirror as bare as she was and noticed her hips were wider and her waist was a bit thinner as she had some muscle but retained a feminine look and her bust felt heavier. Groping herself she sighed before putting on her underwear and pulled the waistband as her underwear felt a bit tighter. She heard a cough and squeaked, turning she saw Catelyn in her nightgown looking at her niece/daughter and said: “So… you and Tyrael had a passionate night.”

Joan blushed and stammered before covering her face and was glad Catelyn never noticed the mark as she had pulled up her underwear over it by accident.

Tyrael found himself once again with Danh who was taking a simple soak to cool off as he sat on the stool beside her and he said: “Beautiful as the heavens." 

Her eyes shot up and she saw his smiling gentle face and she covered herself but that didn't last long. Unlike Drogo or her brother, she felt safe being around him exposed. Noticing the coin beside her he then said: “Has the coin brought you luck." 

She nodded and said: “Yes, my brother has been seeing me less and less as he is doing who knows what else." 

“That's good, I have news about your mother's crown… I have some friends looking into it. Last I've heard they tracked it from a traveling merchant in Essos to Asshai then Westeros. But I also had them find something else to gain favor for the group they are part of.” He said.

Dany looked surprised and her eyes shined and he grabbed her left hand and rubbed it. Dany, like Joanna, was one of the few people he could let himself be vulnerable like this. They were his Jill. Tyrael then said: “Dany… do you believe that anyone else in your family survived?”

She looked up and said: " No, brother said that was all that was left. Rhaegar, our older brother, was murdered by the Usurper, our sister-in-law Elia was killed by the Lannister's men, and our noble daughter was killed by the king slayer. An our mother died of a heart break while giving birth to me.” She said sadly.

" You have on living relative Dany… Rhaegar had taken a second wife… as you know your family has taken multiple spouses before.” He said and she paused and nodded.

" Her name is Visenya Targaryen but she goes by another name for her protection. But you should not believe what your brother has said about your father. When you get a chance, ask someone who is not allied with your brother about your father Aerys. Talked to the merchants and travelers. But please keep an open mind about it, you may not like what you hear.” He says.

" Why are you telling me this now, why didn't you not tell me about her sooner? Don't you trust me?” She said feeling betrayed.

" Dany I trust you more than I trust my own heartbeat, but I was afraid… afraid of how you would take it that someone you hardly knew just pops up and says you had a long lost relative and a thing about your father.” Said Tyrael and she paused and thought hard about it.

She remained silent and looked him dead in the eyes and asked: “Tell me everything… now.”

Seeing the small fierceness in her eyes he sighed and began explaining in vague detail about being in Winterfell and falling into the House of Stark and being practically welcome as a new son. He told her about Joanna being raised as Lord Stark’s daughter despite having to make it seem like she was a bastard as no one would think that Rhaegar's daughter was living as a bastard. He went on, how he and the family got along till the past few days.rhe.Kinb had arrived and he just took Joffrey, the King’s son down a peg and publicly humiliated him. Dany eyed him before she sighed and said: “How…” Tyrael said: " She's fine… I found Dark Sister on the northernmost shore of Westeros beyond the wall and gave it to her. I might teach Blackfyre later. Though she is not displaying it now, her entire family is accepting her.”

" That's… nice." She said sadly and she felt a pair of strong arms holding her and she looked up and had tears on her face and he leaned down and kissed her forehead and said: “I will reunite you both one day, just be strong my dragoness. I'll be there before you know if." 

And with that he was gone from her presence and she looked down in sadness.

Chapter 9: The Winds Howl With Sorrow

Summary:

Something is off and yet the north gains an aura of depression.

Chapter Text

Leaving the stables to not join the hunt for everyone's sanity as Joffrey was in a very foul mood, Tyrael decided to walk around the castle of the Stark family humming while doing so. Though as Bran had seen the hunt left at dawn. The king wanted wild boar at the feast tonight. Prince Joffrey rode with his father, so Robb had been allowed to join the hunters as well. Uncle Benjen, Jory, Theon Greyjoy, Ser Rodrik, and even the queen's funny little brother had all ridden out with them. It was the last hunt, after all. 

On the morrow they left for the south. Bran had been left behind with Joan and the girls and Rickon. But Rickon was only a baby and the girls were only girls and Joan and his wolf were nowhere to be found. Bran did not look for him very hard. He thought Joan was angry at him for accidently intruding on her and Tyrael while he was rubbing her back after she slipped on some ice. Joan seemed to be agitated, most likely from the Prince’s words. Bran did not know why it bothered her so.

She originally wanted to go with Uncle Ben to the Wall, to join the Night's Watch. That was almost as good as going south with the king. Robb, him and Rickon were the ones being left behind, not Joan as she decided to venture with them as Sansa guard and Tyrael as Arya’s. For days, Bran wished he could be going as well. He wanted to be going, to ride the kingsroad on a horse of his own, not a pony but a real horse. His father would be the Hand of the King, and they were going to live in the red castle at King's Landing, the castle the Dragonlords had built, but he was to stay here and help his baby brother as Robb would be taking duties as future Lord.

Though old Nan said there were ghosts there, and dungeons where terrible things had been done, and dragon heads on the walls. It gave Bran a shiver just to think of it, but he was not afraid. How could he be afraid? His father would be with them, and the king with all his knights and sworn swords, but also Tyrael. Tyrael mentioned he was only afraid of one thing, and that was failing to the people he cared most for. Bran wanted to be a knight himself someday, one of the Kingsguard. 

Old Nan said they were the finest swords in all the realm. There were only seven of them, and they wore white armor and had no wives or children, but lived only to serve the king. Bran knew all the stories. Their names were like music to him. Serwyn of the Mirror Shield. Ser Ryam Redwyne. 

Prince Aemon the Dragonknight. The twins Ser Erryk and Ser Arryk, who had died on one another's swords hundreds of years ago, when brother fought sister in the war the singers called the Dance of the Dragons. The White Bull, Gerold Hightower. Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. Barristan the Bold. Though two of the Kingsguard had come north with King Robert.

Bran had watched them with fascination, never quite daring to speak to them. Ser Boros was a bald man with a jowly face, and Ser Meryn had droopy eyes and a beard the color of rust. Ser Jaime Lannister looked more like the knights in the stories, and he was of the Kingsguard too, but Robb said he had killed the old mad king and shouldn't count anymore. The greatest living knight was Ser Barristan Selmy, Barristan the Bold, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Father had promised him one day he would meet Ser Barristan when he could come to King's Landing, and Bran knew he would have to wait for that day till then, Tyrael mentioned to grow strong not only his body, but his mind. Tyrael even gave him a bow, a Nord Hero Bow that was what the ancient ancestors of men once wielded and it was strong and durable.

Though now the last day was at hand, suddenly Bran felt lost. His father had told him that he ought to say his farewells today, and he had tried. But it hurt saying goodbye to his sisters and the guy who was practically his older brother now. After the hunt had ridden out, he wandered through the castle with his wolf at his side, intending to visit the ones who would be left behind, Old Nan and Gage the cook, Mikken in his smithy, Hodor the stableboy who smiled so much and took care of his pony and never said anything but "Hodor," the man in the glass gardens who gave him a blackberry when he came to visit. But it was no good. He had gone to the stable first, and saw his pony there in its stall, except it wasn't his pony anymore, he was getting a real horse as he began to outgrow the pony. 

So Tyrael teleported one of his spare horses, a pale golden brown horse with a white man and tale with a white face. The horse's name was Frost and was fitted with a saddle homage to his family, Tyrael made that saddle and other saddles like it, just each one was unique for the person it was meant for. His mind drifted to Summer, his dire wolf who would be by his side. Though Sansa had named hers Lady, and Arya named hers after some old witch queen in the songs, and little Rickon called his Shaggydog, which Bran thought was a pretty stupid name for a direwolf. Joan's wolf, the white one, was Ghostess. Bran wished he had thought of that first, even though his wolf wasn't white. He had tried a hundred names in the last fortnight, but none of them sounded right.

Stopping his little game he decided to do something, he decided to go climbing. Meanwhile Tyrael was walking over the opposite side of Winterfell. Though he noticed more guards in the area. He knew some of these guards were supposed to be by the old tower for one to.make sure it was monitored as it could collapse any moment, two to make sure Bran doesn't go climbing it and three to patrol that area. Coming up to a guard he then said: “Excuse me guardsman, why are you not near the old tower? Those were your orders from Lord Stark." 

“Oh Ser Septum, Ser Theorn has told us to patrol this area upon Lord Stark’s orders." Said the guard 

Hearing the news he then shouted: “Lord Stark would have told me these orders as well. Gather the men who are assigned to that area and return to your post now!" 

Tyrael stormed off with a scowl. Meanwhile the rooftops of Winterfell were Bran's second home. His mother often said that Bran could climb before he could walk. Bran could not remember when he first learned to walk, but he could not remember when he started to climb either, so he supposed it must be true. To a boy, Winterfell was a grey stone labyrinth of walls and towers and courtyards and tunnels spreading out in all directions. In the older parts of the castle, the halls slanted up and down so that you couldn't even be sure what floor you were on. 

The place had grown over the centuries like some monstrous stone tree, Maester Luwin told him once, and its branches were gnarled and thick and twisted, its roots sunk deep into the earth. When he got out from under it and scrambled up near the sky, Bran could see all of Winterfell in a glance. He liked the way it looked, spread out beneath him, only birds wheeling over his head while all the life of the castle went on below. Bran could perch for hours among the shapeless, rain-worn gargoyles that brooded over the First Keep, watching it all: the men drilling with wood and steel in the yard, the cooks tending their vegetables in the glass garden, restless dogs running back and forth in the kennels, the silence of the godswood, the girls gossiping beside the washing well. It made him feel like he was lord of the castle, in a way even Robb would never know.

This had taught him Winterfell's secrets too. The builders had not even leveled the earth; there were hills and valleys behind the walls of Winterfell. There was a covered bridge that went from the fourth floor of the bell tower across to the second floor of the rookery. Bran knew about that. And he knew you could get inside the inner wall by the south gate, climb three floors and run all the way around Winterfell through a narrow tunnel in the stone, and then come out on ground level at the north gate, with a hundred feet of wall looming over you. Even Maester Luwin didn't know that, Bran was convinced.

His mother was terrified that one day Bran would slip off a wall and kill himself. He told her that he wouldn't, but she never believed him. Once she made him promise that he would stay on the ground. He had managed to keep that promise for almost a fortnight, miserable every day, until one night he had gone out the window of his bedroom when his brothers were fast asleep. He confessed his crime the next day in a fit of guilt. Lord Eddard ordered him to the godswood to cleanse himself.

Guards were posted to see that Bran remained there alone all night to reflect on his disobedience. The next morning Bran was nowhere to be seen. They finally found him fast asleep in the upper branches of the tallest sentinel in the grove. As angry as he was, his father could not help but laugh. "You're not my son," he told Bran when they fetched him down, "you're a squirrel. So be it. If you must climb, then climb, but try not to let your mother see you.

Tyrael mentioned the tales of a winged cow man that once flew and danced among the stars and how one of them, the son of Kyne, came down as he was told to have been mesmerized by the beauty of her heart, body and soul. They wedded and he was the first emperor of the Alessia Dynasty. Though Bran did his best, he did not think he ever really fooled her. Since his father would not forbid it, she turned to others and Tyrael had stopped him a few times. Old Nan told him a story about a bad little boy who climbed too high and was struck down by lightning, and how afterward the crows came to peck out his eyes. Bran was not impressed by it.

There were crows' nests atop the broken tower, where no one ever went but him, and sometimes he filled his pockets with corn before he climbed up there and the crows ate it right out of his hand. None of them had ever shown the slightest bit of interest in pecking out his eyes. Later, Maester Luwin built a little pottery boy and dressed him in Bran's clothes and flung him off the wall into the yard below, to demonstrate what would happen to Bran if he fell. That had been fun, but afterward Bran just looked at the maester and said, "I'm not made of clay. And anyhow, I never fall." 

Thus Tyrael decided to make him something to help him. He called them cleats as they locked to his boots and helped him get a strong footing when climbing slippery surfaces and gloves so his hand can grab onto anything without slipping. And ever since then, he could climb and get to high places much easier. But still guards would chase him whenever they saw him on the roofs, and try to haul him down. That was the best time of all. It was like playing a game with his brothers, except that Bran always won. 

None of the guards could climb half so well as Bran, not even Jory. Most of the time they never saw him anyway. People never looked up. That was another thing he liked about climbing; it was almost like being invisible. He liked how it felt too, pulling himself up a wall stone by stone, fingers and toes digging hard into the small crevices between. He always took off his boots and went barefoot when he climbed; it made him feel as if he had four hands instead of two.

He liked the deep, sweet ache it left in the muscles afterward. He liked the way the air tasted way up high, sweet and cold as a winter peach. He liked the birds: the crows in the broken tower, the tiny little sparrows that nest in cracks between the stones, the ancient owl that slept in the dusty loft above the old armory. Bran knew them all. Most of all, he liked going places that no one else could go, and seeing the grey sprawl of Winterfell in a way that no one else ever saw it. It made the whole castle Bran's secret place.

Though his favorite haunt was the broken tower. Once it had been a watchtower, the tallest in Winterfell. A long time ago, a hundred years before even his father had been born, a lightning strike had set it afire. The top third of the structure had collapsed inward, and the tower had never been rebuilt. Sometimes his father sent ratters into the base of the tower, to clean out the nests they always found among the jumble of fallen stones and charred and rotten beams. But no one ever got up to the jagged top of the structure now except for Bran and the crows.

The best way was to start from the godswood, shinny up the tall sentinel, and cross over the armory and the guards hall, leaping roof to roof, barefoot so the guards wouldn't hear you overhead. That brought you up to the blind side of the First Keep, the oldest part of the castle, a squat round fortress that was taller than it looked. Only rats and spiders lived there now but the old stones still made for good climbing. You could go straight up to where the gargoyles leaned out blindly over empty space, and swing from gargoyle to gargoyle, hand over hand, around to the north side. From there, if you really stretched, you could reach out and pull yourself over to the broken tower where it leaned close. The last part was the scramble up the blackened stones to the eyrie, no more than ten feet, and then the crows would come round to see if you'd bought any corn.

Bran was moving from gargoyle to gargoyle with the ease of long practice when he heard the voices. He was so startled he almost lost his grip. The First Keep had been empty all his life. Though he noticed no guards ain't the area which was odd. Though coming up to the courtyard of the Old tower, Tyrael grunted in dissatisfaction and frowned, wondering what Greyjoy was thinking about moving guards around. Just then he emerged out into the courtyard and his eyes widened. Looking on in horror as a hand shoved Bran out of the broken tower he shouted as all of Winterfell shook: “BRAN!!!"

As Bran saw the running body of Tyrael with a worried look on his face he couldn't help but feel that everything will be okay. As the courtyard rushed up to meet him. As he impacted the ground, Summer’s head shot up and howled as crows began to circle the broken tower. Just then a few guards came running as he stood over the body of the downed boy and he shouted: “INTRUDER IN THE KEEP, I SAW A HAND PUSH BRAN OUT OF THE BROKEN TOWER LOCK EVERYTHING DOWN AND WAIT FOR LORD STARK TO RETURN NOW! AND SOUND THE GODS DAMN ALARM AND GET MAESTER LUWIN WITH A FLAT BOARD SO WE Can PUT BRAN UPON IT!”

As the guards scrambled the sound of bells toll and a few guards and Luwin came out and Tyrael.helped them move the boy into the wood and take him into a room and sat the wood on a few tables. Just then Catelyn l, Sansa, Arya, Joan all came bursting in as Luwin was examining the boy ever so recklessly. Just then Theron came in and TyrAel grabbed him and shoved him against the wall and he said: “Why the hell were there no guards by the broken tower, don't give me the bullshit Lord Stark had ordered, he always tells us both about the guard arrangements!" 

“I did it because Lord Stark gave permission to the Queen and Ser Lannister to have a private conversation by the tower according to Ser Lannister!" Said Theorn as he turned pale seeing the fury in Tyrael’s eyes.

Tyrael nodded reluctantly and said: “You're telling Lord Stark what you told me Greyjoy,.best hope he'll be merciful. Cause you may have cost him his son." 

Tyrael shoved him out and closed the door and snarled, but he felt the girls hugging him and he began to ease up, his breathing slowly began still and Catelyn put a hand on his shoulder and after an hour Maester Luwin said: " I have some unfortunate news, the boys spine is broken and his legs are in a similar state.”

The girls looked horrified and Tyrael clenched his fist and he said: " I can heal him, heal.him.to a point where he'll need much rest and training for his limbs to work properly, but he may be stuck with intense bouts of pain for the rest of his life.”

The girl's eyes looked to him and Maester said: " Could you do it Ser Tyrael, could you heal him?" 

“Yes…" he said as he walked to the other and raised his hands over the boy and a golden light shone from them as a spiraling golden aura swirled around the boy who was breathing painfully and began to fade as he started to breathe normally. Soon Tyrael stopped as he was sweating and clenched his fist and said: “Though I am a.master at healing arts, restoring this much damage was difficult even to a master. But it's done… If anyone asks, we tell them the gods were with him and saved him, but we tell Lord Stark the truth. Bran was pushed from the tower, I saw a hand, if he fell it would have been close to the foundation of the tower, not a horse away from it.”

The family gasped as Luwin looked at the boy and was happy he would be fine within time. Scratching was heard and Catelyn opened the door as Summer, who rushed up to him, stood on his hind legs and licked Bran’s hand causing his fingers to twitch, making the wolf drop down and lay beside the sleeping young man. Tyrael dropped down and scratched the wolf and said: “Good boy. Gray will keep him safe for now… Joan came with me. Let's examine the tower.”

She nodded and they stormed off as soon Lady and Nymeria joined the daughters who also nudged Bran, getting him to twitch and grunt. Running through the keep the two dragons soon arrived at the tower and Lord Jaime descended from it and said: “What's going on?" 

“Stand aside Ser Jaime, we are on official business for the attempt of assassination for Bran Stark." Said Tyrael seriously.

“Yes, I heard your shouts nearby and came here to find out what happened, when I saw you carrying the Stark boy away I began to investigate the area and I just checked the tower from what I Could find no one else had been here." Said Jaime seriously.

But both Tyrael and Joanna were not buying it. Tyrael turned to her as Jaime had a smug innocent look that hid a guilty look, Tyrael motioned for her to fill w him: “Very well Ser Jaime, thank you for your assistance. I'll be sure to tell Lord Stark of your cooperation."

As Tyrael and Joan walked away from Jaime who had a smug smile still plastered in his face, though he missed the knowing glint within Tyrael’s eye. As they rounded a corner, he pulled her against the wall and pulled out a mirror and peaked around and saw Jaime heading the other way and not the tower. Once Jaime was gone they checked the path he took and saw him cutting across and into the main keep. Nodding they rushed up the tower and up into the broken room and saw the damaged floor and the old tower barracks which had been disturbed. Tyrael examined the old bed spread that was damaged and said: “Someone covered this before lying in it." 

Joanna frowned and began examining and went to the window and saw part of Bran's shirt stuck to the window seal and said: “Bran, was inside the room.*

"Bdan must've seen something, though I don't by Jaime Lannister words, they're dragon shit. Seems they're was a scuffle of sorts judging by the dust and bits of snow.” Said Tyrael as he got to the floor and examined anything before checking the bed and found long strange blonde hair.

“Someone else was here, Bran saw something and was pushed out the window.* Said Tyrael as he saw Joana frowned and they both exited the tower. Once down at the base Tyrael used his mirror to check for anyone, and seeing no one they rushed out and back into the main keep.

Joan asked: “So was it Jaime?" 

“Unknown, the hair belongs to a woman, though could have been an assassin with golden hair. The disturbed footprints not ours our Ser Jaime's suggested the culprit fled. And most likely will flee as soon as they can." Said Tyrael.

Within moments Lord Stark returned and was immediately told of the news, he and Robb with Grey Wind rushing to join the family by Bran’s side. Fenris waited outside the door in the center of it with two guards on either side of the door. Ned dropped to his knees and gently grasped his son’s hand as Rickon looked on in confusion, Luwin whispered to the Lord who had relief wash over him with tears in his eye. Tyrael bowed as he and Joanna entered and said: “My Lord, we've combed the broken tower and someone was definitely there. We found Ser Jaime leaving the tower saying he had searched it up on seeing Bran’s state… but we discovered that the barracks on a level was disturbed as someone was using it. We found a golden strand of hair, a piece of Bran clothing inside and what seems to be a scuffle inside the room. Bran was pushed out for seeing something.”

Everyone froze and Joanna showed the strand of hair and said: “Unfortunately we can not suspect the royal party as any signs of hostility may… hold consequences. Thankfully once we begin our journey to King's Landing I'll summon a comrade of mine. She'll protect Bran, but just a heads up… she is loyal as Lord Stark and is a damn fine swordswoman. Skilled with a boy and a bit of a cook.”

" What's her name?” Lord Stark asked.

" Her name is Lydia, Lord Stark… Her mother was a Companion, an order of warriors who go out and make the lands safe for anyone. Though for a price of course, payment can be discussed so long as it's not someone or dirt and simple stones. Her father was a legion officer like myself, I never met the man as he was killed by bandits.” Said Tyrael.

"How soon can you summon her.” Asked Catelyn.

“Now or tomorrow…” said Tyrael and Lord Stark nodded to Tyrael who smiled and raised his hand and outside the room if anyone saw a flash of light would have been seen.

Meanwhile the two members of the Thieves guild smiled as they found it. Hidden in a safe of some simple merchant, though a high end merchant was the Crown of Queen Rhaella, but also above on a mantle was the fabled sword of the Lannister, the Brightroar poorly wrapped in cloth to hide it. Grabbing the objects they vanished using the rings gifted to them to not only muffle their movements, but make them invisible till they were in light. By the time anyone would know what happened the two would be long gone and on Westeros.

Chapter 10: Confusion and Conquer

Summary:

Fear for Bran Stark has washed over Winterfell and yet Tyrael conquers.

Chapter Text

Tyrion Lannister, the dwarf of the rock, listened as somewhere in the great stone maze of Winterfell, a wolf howled. The sound hung over the castle like a flag of mourning. As he looked up from his books and shivered, though the library was snug and warm. Something about the howling of a wolf took a man right out of his here and now and left him in a dark forest of the mind, running naked before the pack. As he shut the heavy leather bound cover on the book he was reading, a hundred-year-old discourse on the changing of the seasons by a long-dead maester. He covered a yawn with the back of his hand. 

His reading lamp was flickering, its oil all but gone, as dawn light leaked through the high windows. He had been at it all night, but that was nothing new. Tyrion Lannister was not much of a one for sleeping unless it was with a whore by his side. Ever since he came to the north he could honestly say he had a friend, an alley in Tyrael Septum the Imperial Knight. The young man was sharp as a sword, steady as a bow and wise as a sage. His legs were stiff and sore as he eased down off the bench.

He massaged some life back into them and limped heavily to the table where the septon was snoring softly, his head pillowed on an open book in front of him. Tyrion glanced at the title. A life of the Grand Maester Aethelmure, no wonder. "Chayle," he said softly. The young man jerked up, blinking, confused, the crystal of his order swinging wildly on its silver chain. "I'm off to break my fast. See that you return the books to the shelves. Be gentle with the Valyrian scrolls, the parchment is very dry. Ayrmidon's Engines of War is quite rare, and yours is the only complete copy I've ever seen. " Chayle gaped at him, still half-asleep. Patiently, Tyrion repeated his instructions, then clapped the septon on the shoulder and left him to his tasks.

Once outside, Tyrion swallowed a lungful of the cold morning air and began his laborious descent of the steep stone steps that corkscrewed around the exterior of the library tower. It was slow going; the steps were cut high and narrow, while his legs were short and twisted. The rising sun had not yet cleared the walls of Winterfell, but the men were already hard at it in the yard below. Sandor Clegane's rasping voice drifted up to him. “The boy was lucky the gods were with him. Either wise he will be in for a long time dying.”

Tyrion glanced down and saw the Hound standing with young Joffrey as squires swarmed around them. “It's a shame he shall not die, that dreadful wolf makes that disposable noise. I could scarcely sleep last night.”

Clegane cast a long shadow across the hard-packed earth as his squire lowered the black helm over his head. "I could silence the creature, if it pleases you," he said through his open visor. His boy placed a longsword in his hand. He tested the weight of it, slicing at the cold morning air. Behind him, the yard rang to the clangor of steel on steel.

The notion seemed to delight the prince. "Send a dog to kill a dog!" he exclaimed. "Winterfell is so infested with wolves, the Starks would never miss one. “

Tyrion hopped off the last step onto the yard. "I beg to differ, nephew," he said. "The Starks can count past six. Unlike some princes I might name. “

Joffrey had the grace at least to blush. Soon a hard fierce feminine voice with an ice cold edge said: “Plus I would not allow it." 

Everyone turned to see a woman garbed in armor that Tyrael.said was worn during the three banner war, the Nord Hero Armor. On her back was an Ancestral Nord shield and at her hip was a Stalhrim Hero sword and on. The aura made it feel like they were in the heart of winter, this was Lydia who has long cascading brown hair with braids and pale icy blue eyes with pale skin and natural ruby lips. Every male she had passed has always made a fool of themselves, even the king and Ser Jaime watched her walk by as she had a low sway to her march and the duo walked smack into a wall. Lydia was here under orders to protect Bran while he recovers from both Tyrael as she was his Housecarl/bodyguard. Apparently she was looking for him since they got separated out at sea and she drifted on an ice flow and survived by melting snow and eating fish and landed just near White Harbour and she had heard of him in Winterfell days ago and made way here.

Someone mentioned she shouldn't even be a warrior; they nearly lost their privates as she not only disarmed them, but shattered their sword, shield and broke portions of their armor with ease. Thus everyone knew not to cross her. But Tyrael was laughing and said she was not even taking the sap seriously. They knew how he fought and to say she wasn't serious spoke volumes of those he traveled with. Tyrion chuckled seeing the men act nervously and then he said: “Joffrey, it is past time you called on Lord Eddard and his lady, to offer them your comfort.”

Joffrey looked as petulant as only a boy prince can look. "What good will my comfort do them?”

“It will show them that you may not have been the one responsible to cause the boy any harm. Everyone is a suspect on the King's orders.” Said Lydia making Tyrion nod to this.

“The Stark boy is nothing to me," Joffrey said. "I cannot abide the wailing of women." 

Tyrion Lannister reached up and slapped his nephew hard across the face. The boy's cheek began to redden. 

“One word," Tyrion said, "and I will hit you again. You should be acting as if you are worthy of being the crown prince. Even your brother shows more prestige than you." 

"I'm going to tell Mother!" Joffrey exclaimed.

Tyrion hit him again. Now both cheeks flamed.

“You tell your mother," Tyrion told him. "But first you get yourself to Lord and Lady Stark, and you fall to your knees in front of them, and you tell them how very sorry you are, and that you are at their service if there is the slightest thing you can do for them or theirs in this desperate hour, and that all your prayers go with them. Do you understand? Do you?”

The boy looked as though he was going to cry. Instead, he managed a weak nod. Then he turned and fled headlong from the yard, holding his cheek. Tyrion watched him run. Lydia giggled quietly, though Clegane looming overhead like a cliff. His soot-dark armor seemed to blot out the sun. He had lowered the visor on his helm. It was fashioned in the likeness of a snarling black hound, fearsome to behold, but Tyrion had always thought it a great improvement over Clegane's hideously burned face. 

"The prince will remember that, little lord," the Hound warned him. The helm turned his laugh into a hollow rumble.

“I pray he does," Tyrion Lannister replied. "If he forgets, be a good dog and remind him. " He glanced around the courtyard. "Do you know where I might find my brother?”

“Last I saw of the armoured peacock was following the Queen like a lovestruck school oh.” Said Lydia causing Tyrion to snort in a laughter and Clegane to remain neutral in his face but a moment of amusement in his eyes. Tyrion gave Sandor Clegane a perfunctory nod and walked away as briskly as his stunted legs would carry him, whistling. He pitied the first knight to try the Hound today. The man did have a temper though Lydia accompanied him and she said: “I see why my Thane finds you worthy of his friendship. You're not afraid to stand against a Lord of higher standing." 

“I take it Ser Tyrael has few friends." Said Tyrion and she replied: “He has many, but they're few he would call true friends. The Stark are few of them, myself is another and a few of our companions back in Tamriel. Though one of them, myself and her, are at odds with one another. Though we put our issues aside for him, my Thane would go to Oblivion and back for his friends if it meant to get something as minuscule as a small heirloom that hardly has any meaning.”

" I knew he was loyal, but to be that loyal must have earned him quite the devoted allies.” Said Tyrion as they passed by many.

She nodded and said: " Yes, many Jarls in our homeland sometimes seek his wisdom despite being so young. Not to mention he is my people's hero.”

" He mentioned he has done a great grandeur to gain such respect, but he never said while. My nephew believe it to be hogwash, but the King, Lord Stark, myself and my brother know it to be true.” Said Tyrion.

"Yes… though it's a personal matter, one that left him a great scar. The death of his mother figure. Her people were a lot like the tribes beyond the wall, only less hostile and more peaceful.”

Arriving at the Guest House. A warm meal had been laid out in the morning room of the Guest House. Jaime sat at table with Cersei and the children, talking in low, hushed voices. 

"Is Robert still abed?" Tyrion asked as he seated himself, uninvited, at the table.

His sister peered at him with the same expression of faint distaste she had worn since the day he was born. "The king has not slept at all," she told him. "He is with Lord Eddard. He has taken their sorrow deeply to heart. I see the wild woman is with you." 

“Just leaving your majesty. My Thane and I have much to discuss about my duties to keep Bran Stark safe." She said as she bowed and walked away.

Myrcella put a cloth on the table and said: “Mother may I be excused?" 

The Queen nodded and with a wave of her hand Myrcella rushed off and followed Lydia outside. Once outside Lydia asked: “You want something Princess Myrcella?" 

“I just… I just wish to know about Ser Tyrael… we have not much of a chat.” Said Myrcella as they walked to the main keep.

" Ah, well my Thane… Tyrael has much to do. But if you had requested to see him then he would come. He is not one to keep something kind, waiting." Said Lydia as they entered the keep.

“You've known him for a long time." Asked Myrcella.

“Almost two and half years, your majesty. He saved my home from a great deviation. At first I put him as someone who wanted the power and wealth of being in the court, but as we traveled. I saw none of that. I saw a warrior who desires to hold others high up and protect the weak and bring justice to the needy " said Lydia.

Though as night had fallen Tyrael had just been told by Rune about the package and had sent them back with a large sack of five thousand apiece of gold/Septim from his own wealth and they were all the more merry. Groaning, he said walking the halls: " At least I have it.”

In his chambers Tyrael eyes the items, he had sent the two back to Tamriel and was glad he made those rings. Unlike those he has worked with to create summoning spells for, he had crafted items to call upon allies originally and passed them around. Just then a knock was heard and he placed the items away and walked to the door and opened it to see Myrcella Baratheon. Looking completely surprised he then said: “Princess, this is a heavy surprise. Do you need an escort back to the guest house?" 

" No Ser Tyrael, can we talk please.* She asked nervously as she was garbed only in a white silk gown night dress and dark fur cloak and boots.

Opening his door he welcomed her inside and she stepped inside and noticed his large backpack was packed and on a mannequin was an armor looked to be studded dragon scales with a strange dragon scale like shields with horns and spikes. She then said: “I see you are ready for the trip." 

“Yes your majesty, if the weather permits we would be at Kings Landing a few days ahead of schedule. But may I ask, "Why are you here at this hour?" He asked.

She was a few months younger than Arya though both were around to begin to start becoming into the pre stages of womanhood. Though it seems Myrcella was an early bloomer. She sat on his bed and asked: “Ser Tyrael… do you like serving the Stark Family?”

" Their good company, your majesty, is loyal to their friends, family and allies to a fault. To them that is all the “pack" to them meaning they would never betray the “pack" unless someone within has endangered the group as a whole.” Said Tyrael.

She nodded and said: " I understand you will be watching over Arya Stark… while within King's Landing.”

" Yes your grace, Lord Stark knows I am one of the few who can wrangle his free spirited daughter. He admitted to me once that Arya is a lot like Lyanna, his sister.” Said Tyrael.

Myrcella stood up and then asked: "When Joffrey offered my hand in marriage why did you turn it down, am I not beautiful?*

“You are your majesty, I find it disgusting to treat others as a material object. I am sorry to say this, but your brother Joffrey is a pile of horse shit. If he doesn't get home and act together, he may never survive in the future.” Said Tyrael.

" Is there a plot against him?” She asked curiously.

" I wouldn't be surprised if our brother is already showing a gleam of madness from what I've seen. And if it festers like the Mad King, then the people will revolt.” He said seriously, causing her to nod and she stepped up to him and put her arms around him and said: " If fine you quiet catching in my eyes Sir Tyrael. Perhaps when it's time I shall take you in my bed. Mother always told me that the woman of the Lannister family get what we want and what I want is you.”

Soon alarm bells rang in his head as he literally saw the hearts in her eyes and he thought: ‘Sheeeeeeiiiiiiiittttttt!!! YANDERE!’

She giggled and nipped his neck before turned and brush her hand and her ass on his crotch and her eyes wide ed and said: “Oh my, you are well endowed." 

She then slipped happily away and Tyrael frowned as he rubbed his face. Just then another knock was heard and Lydia stepped inside and she said: “I saw the princess, I take it… so she fancies you.”

" Don't start Lydia, it's bad enough I practically have a …” Lydia finished: " A poly relationship, a fuck squad, concubines, cum dumps, harem girls…” he groaned making her giggle.

That night as he slept he found himself before a napping Dany and smiled happily. He had the crown in hand and climbed up on the bed and kissed her forehead causing her to groan before her eyes fluttered open and she looked to see the smiling face of Tyrael and she lunged and hugged him tightly. He smiled and hugged her back before kissing the top of her head and pulls out the crown and said: “I've got something for ya." 

Seeing the crown she gasped and took it and said: “Where did you find this?*

"Some comrades of mine found it in one of the most luxurious free cities in a high end merchant’s house who did personal trade with the Lannister. Seems he was preparing to sell the crown and something else to them. Though now it's yours.” He said as he placed the crown on her head and she was stunned till she noticed her reflection. 

Getting behind her he wrapped his arms around her waist as they say in silence. She leaned back, the image to her was a loving King and Queen from fairy tales. She turned and wished she could give him a kiss, but they're was limitations, certain actions can rarely happen. What he was doing now was the only thing outside those limits. She then said: “Thank you… but what of my brother… if he sees this he'll…” he then said: " Do you have the coin?”

She nodded and he asked: " Has he been suffering a bit of misfortune from minor things happening to something ridiculous and causing him to leave you be?”

She nodded again and he continued saying: " And when he does see you he never truly pays attention as his mind is plagued with bad luck upon him?”

She nodded one last time and he smiled before saying: “Then you are safe, you remember that little trick I told you and taught you?*

She paused and made a realization face. Tyrael taught her how to create her own little Hammerspace that would allow her to hold equal weight to her own body. Taking the crown off she made the potion of pocketing the item and soon it vanished without a trace. She smiled and said: “Now only you can access it." 

Dany smiled and said: “Tyrael… I, I… I learned about my father. What he really… really was like.”

"Oh, no disrespect but you mean the tyrannical side and the madness?” He asked and she slowly nodded in confirmation and she whimpered with her eyes shut and said: " I… I am afraid… afraid that I'll… I'll… I'll be like him. Visenry has already shown signs. I… I… I don't want to be like them.”

She curled up into a ball and was on the verge of tears when she felt herself being lifted and placed into Tyrael's lap and he, rested his head against hers and he said: " Then don't, this is your life… your story. You are your own author, you can write and decide how you wish to live. Do you wish to be a prideful, greeted, wrathful hated fool who would burn thousands of innocent people? Or do you wish to be a virtuous yet feared Queen who would gladly fight for her people.”

She remained silent and then said: " I don't know what I want Tyrael, all I want is to be freed, to go home, to be happy…” tears had begun to form and he smiled and said: " Then I'll make it so.”

And with that he vanished. As he vanished she felt exhausted and began to fall asleep but before he vanished entirely he laid her down and covered her in the sheets and said: "Rest my dragoness, I'll free you soon.”

Awakening back in his room as he looked out seeing no sign of dawn he was about to sit up and noticed his door opening and in stepped was the queen with her golden locks cascaded her back and side as she wore a silk nightgown and he said: “My Queen, what do I owe the pleasure of the hour." 

“I came for answers boy, though my brothers and that fool of my husband and the Starks see you as something, I desire to know what you are." She said with an edge. 

“And so, you decided to enter my chambers and conduct an investigation while in the knight, not a smart move your majesty. I do tend to sleep with a knife under my head." He replied as he then pulled out a knife. 

He eyed the Queen, but a dark thought soon entered. Though he despised enslavement, though forcing someone to serve someone for crimes, that was a different story. And the crime for murder, adultery among others she has committed this would be justified. The Queen then said with hard eyes: “Watch how you speak to me boy. I can easily have you executed." 

“Over what, I got you upset that I humiliated the crown prince, but that boy needs discipline. His actions are evident and sooner or later those actions will have repercussions and someone else will get hurt. You spoiled your eldest while barely even noticing your other children.” He said, causing her eyes to gain a hard look and she said: " I do not, I love all my children equally?”

" Okay, what is Myrcella’s favorite food, her favorite story, her favorite song. What does do when she is not the princess of the realm and the same for Tommen.”

She paused and thought, she thought long and hard and yet she froze and slowly came to realize that she practically abandoned her children. He smirked and said in a low whisper: “Mid Hah Sahlos…” the Queen heard him say something, but she never noticed a shimmered pink aura washed over her.

The shout was made by a former priestess of Dibella who was nearly a dragon priest and when the cult died she became a priest of Sanguine. The shout only affects those whose minds are weaker than the speakers. It translated to: “Mind Loyal Lust…” meaning Ceresi was loyal to him and lusted for him.

Ceresin moaned as she felt her loins ache and Tyrael smelt the musk from them he stood up letting his fears drop showing he slept nude and Ceresin eyes widened seeing his cock soft was bigger than Jaime was erect. Her loins then felt like a hot fire was under them causing her to whimper causing her to rub her thigh together. She gritted her teeth and said: " Having a large cock doesn't mean anything to a traveler.”

" Then why are you eyeing it like it's the last one and wagging her hips. I admit the Queen has been blessed by the gods with amazing beauty.” He said as he walked toward her causing her eyes to linger on the swaying meat between his legs.

Smiling he stood before her and his hand gently grasped one of her breasts that were bigger than the other girls as she was 81cm mark and he smirked while most girls he knew were into the A borderline the B cup size. He then reached up and pinched her nipple causing her to gasp as her loins erupted like a geyser ruining her small clothes as they became soaked and see through. A side effect of the shout made the one used upon highly sensitive. She dropped to her knees and spasmed. Smiling he then leaned down and whispered: “Seems the king is a fool to not tend to a queen like yourself and your lovers must do a piss poor job. You reek of adultery, I want to blab about it, because from now on… you're mine.”

He then smacked her tits causing her to cry out into another orgasm. And she fell back spasming as her legs were up and he saw her once white small clothes panties now completely transparent showing her pubic hair which was showing signs to grow out he sides. Most likely she would either shave or trim it. Smiling he grabbed her undergarments and with a swift tug he pulled them apart she groaned and said: “Who said you could…” a slap was heard and Ceresin held her cheek and she looked up seeing his golden eyes and he smiled viciously and said: " An who gave you permission to speak, leg alone gone uncheck about your temper and behavior.”

She then snarled and said: " Silent peasant, I will call the guards.”

He smiled and said: " No you won't…" he grabbed her hair and started dragging her to his bed causing her to grab his hand and kick her feet and said: “Let me go peasant. Right now…”

 

-(Lemon Warning)-

 

Snarling at her, she was thrown against the bed frame hitting her head against the post and she winced, closing her eyes from the pain. She looked up and saw the hunger in those eyes. Those eyes she had felt what was behind similar eyes before, the presence of a dragon. She whimpered and he then grabbed her head and slammed his entire cock down her throat causing her eyes to widen, she tried to push but he was stronger, she tried to bite down, but her jaw wouldn't obey, only her tongue lathered the underside. Then she had a good taste, the taste so gross that she wanted more as if it was the finest wine she had. She began to bob her head making sure to drag her tongue along his cock and to make sure it rubbed against his sides.

In her mind fantasies from her youth played fantasies of her wedding with Rhaegar, fantasies of their wedding night, fantasies of so many more ever since she met that prince played in her mind. Only then Rhaegar was replaced with Tyrael. She moaned and started sucking alongside her actions, only her eyes widened in shock as she was so far into them that she didn't realize how much time had passed. He head pulled into his pelvis and thick rope after thick rope flooded her mouth and down to her gullet, but still her mouth was flooded with his seed and he pulled back and he barked out: “Keep it in and savor it whore. Do not waste any of it." 

Ceresi wanted to spit it out and call for the guards, but she didn't and even had her own tongue swim within his seed and felt it as it was thick as honey. He smiled and leaned down and said: “Now swallow whore." 

He stood up straight and turned his head as his right eyes returned to normal and he was within the crack of his door the shocked princess with her hand between her legs as they clamped tightly. He smirked and thought: ‘Let's give her majesty a show.’

Grabbing her gown, he ripped it down, getting her to cover herself and said bitterly: “That was made from the finest silks in the realm." 

“Hah, that's funny, the queen of whores and pigs believing she is deserving of clothes.” He said as he yanked her hair causing her to cry out as she was pulled to her feet and cry out some more as he grabbed her right nipple and twisted it hard causing her to scream and cry with a whimper.

She began stomping her feet childishly he cried out some more as he began slapping her tits causing them to bounce and then to pulling, twisting and punching her nipples causing them to have bruises. Releasing her, he reared his leg back and drives it straight into her crotch causing her to be picked up and hunch over as her eyes rolled back and she quivered as she had an orgasm from cunt busting. Ceresin tried to hold her cunt only for her arms to be grabbed and he continued driving softer kicks into her cunt making the pain even worse. He then leaned in as her legs buckled and muttered to her: “I would have done a regular fucking with you, except I know you caused Bran to fall." 

Her eyes widened in horror with tears and he muttered: “How I found out you were there was from the wolves tracking your scent your majesty. But don't worry, you'll get more later. From now on, your mine.”

She whimpered weakly and shut her eyes finding herself throne on his bed with her ass in the air and before she could say a word she began to cry out as she felt leather across her backside causing her to moan in delight feeling it after the fifteenth swing as at first she resisted tried to get away by was pulled back but her pubic hair. She moaned harder unaware her daughter was watching vigorously and thinking about wanting to be in her mother's place Tyrael then said: “What's wrong your majesty, daddy didn't give you the attention you wanted and you cling to your own son for that attention, how sick. You disgust me whore…” he smacked her ass and said: " Pig…" again another slap and he said: “Useless, sow." 

That sent her over the edge as she cried out in orgasm and said: “More daddy, more, I want more… I've been a bad girl daddy, punish your princess daddy, please.”

This surprised him seems the Queen had a daddy complex. Smiling he then said: " Is daddy bigger than you other lovers who's cocks are for children.”

Ceresi clamped up. Then she thought like ng an hard, Robert cock was just barely measuring to five inches though thick with a wide head, Jaime her brother though was bigger by two and half inches big thicker at the base and a pointier head. But then she remember lancel who was the same size as Robert just thinner, in fact all her lovers where barely satisfied. Sure Jaime made her orgasm, but it hardly felt like one. She whimpered and said: “Daddy please… please show your princess that his cock is better than the others.”

She gave her hips a shake. He smiled and saw her puckering anal hole and drove it in and she cried out in pain: " Agh, wrong… ho…" she then moaned feeling him fucking her ass raw and her mind began spasming from ecstasy as she felt his cock knock against the back side of her womb before it felt like hitting her stomach.

She groaned feel like her ass was going to be ripped out alongside her inside she moaned and he began kissing her neck and the gently massages her sore tits and said: “That's a good girl, no more fighting daddy. Daddy hates getting rough, so be a good girl for Daddy and you will get lots of love and possibly daddy’s bastard." 

Those words sent her to a new land as she began to match his thrust and pulls causing her mind to instantly lose a grip on reality. She didn't know how long his dick had been sharing her ass till she felt her entire ass became flooded with his seed and she even hiccuped as she she didn't know his seed shot up from her ass and hit her stomach. She felt bloated and she collapsed before rolling over and whimpered saying: “Daddy, don't leave me, I want to play more." 

Feeling a pair of lips on her forehead she felt his cock removed and her anal hole was agape spilling his seed onto the floor making her whimper, but that whimper turning to a moan and a yes as his cock went straight into her pulsing throbbing red cunt and into her womb and she had an orgasm feeling her breeched her baby chamber and muttered: “Daddy’s bastard… daddy’s princess will give… a bastard.”

Just then she began having small orgasms as he began fucking her womb causing her to vue to roll out of her mouth as she looked like he had fucked her brain out. He continued to drive his cock into her womb as she groaned, moaned and mumble incoherently. She whimpered feeling his fingers toy with her clit but it continued and she loves it. She was his and she lived it . She wanted more, she wanted more of his cock, his taste, his seed, his touch, his scent and most importantly his… cock. She then whimpered and said: “Daddy, please… fill me up.”

"Well then,.since my precious Princess asked…” he then began his speed so fast she was practically bouncing and her eyes rolled as she cried out orgasming harder till it happened.

Over her womb was an image of a dragon pinning a lioness down with their tails forming a heart as Ceresin cried out as she cum with so much force she began to bounce and jerk as her eyes rolled back with tears. Her breast and nipples bruised, her ego cracked, her pride stained, her cunt was swollen red, her ass was just as red. She was no longer Queen of the Realm Ceresi Baratheon-Lannister, no, she was The Whore Queen to Tyrael Septum, the dragon of the North. As he pulled out of cuming hard, his seed oozed out of her and the idea of having his bastards aroused her causing her cunt to clench causing her to wince and whimper. Feeling his hand gently stroke her hair her mind went into slumber though unaware picking in through the door was her own daughter who watched with her own silk nightgown hiked and her small clothes around her knees and she had her own small squirt.

 

-(Lemon End)-

 

By the crack of dawn Ceris Baratheon groaned feeling bloated and sore, the sheet fell and exposed her body to the world and she looked around finding herself in the royal guest chamber and her husband, the whoremonger nude, goblet in hand and a leather stripe beside him. She then noticed a note on his back and she grabbed it as it said: “I enjoyed myself Princess's, be a good girl now and be awarded later. Be a bad girl and punishments follow." 

She shuddered and winced, he must've brought her back and made it look like Robert went on another drunken sexual rampage on her. Shuddering remembering what happened and the thoughts of telling… no she didn't want to or desires which was odd for her. Then she thought about other men, none appeases her, not even her brother infact it disgusted her greatly from what they did. An Joffrey it was confusing with him, her mind drifted to her only daughter and youngest baby boy. She felt horrible and knew her mother, the woman she idolized would be ashamed of her. Clenching her fist she then felt sick, but she felt it was not due to pregnancy by from… rushing to the latrine she emptied to contents of her stomach causing Robert to stir from his slumber and saw the state “he" caused his wife and winced. Meanwhile Tyrael grunted as Joan lapped at his cock and said as he sat on her bed as she was nude fingering herself: “I don't like you bedded the woman who's family was responsible for the death of my brother or sister.*

"No need to worry my snow dragon, she is enthralled to me for her crimes. Though I despise slavery, but he ne serving another as punishment for crimes is a different story.” He said as he grunted and cummed inside her mourh.

She greedily swallowed it and said: "Still, I hate her, but do you have to flirt with my aunt on your “dream walks" it irks me?”

" We are dragons my wolf queen, we are greedy, we are prideful, we are wrathful and we are very lustful for either battle or sex. Plus if I remember correctly, you begged me to find more people for our bed after we fucked outside.” She winced from his words do to phantom pain.

After their first night together she couldn't get enough and yet, he could never fully satisfy him. Surely she went long then the Queen, he mentioned it was because of her dragon blood, but he was more dragon than her and beyond normal thus making it nearly impossible. She was worried it might get out of hand. Thankfully he remembered a spell to make him temporarily infertile, though it stockpiles the fertile into his seed when he wants to impregnate someone this giving him and his partner more children once they were impregnated. Her thoughts where shattered as they shared a passionate kiss and she was brought into his lap and he rested his head on her bosum listening to her heart beat and said: “Your heart calms me my dragoness."

“You should find only one nickname to call me from now on." She said blankly.

Chuckling he laid back with her resting on his chest and said: “I suppose so." 

She snuggled into his warmth and took in his scent and he said: “I love you Visenya Targaryen Stark." 

“An I love you Tyraelis Septim Olo." She said happily as the shared a kiss of nothing but live between them.

Chapter 11: A False Wedding

Summary:

A False Wedding, that has benefited the ever growing power of the future dragons.

Chapter Text

It was time Dany, Daerneys Targaryen would wed Khal Drogo with fear and barbaric splendor in a field beyond the walls of Pentos, for the Dothraki believed that all things of importance in a man's life must be done beneath the open sky. Though Tyrael had something for that, a special powder mix that is colorless and tasteless. A drop of her blood was needed for it to work. Once her blood touched the powder Khal Drogo and his dorthki as well as everyone who attended would be under a powerful illusion, though if they had some adept in mystic arts like any novice, it would last long but had to be reapplied monthly. Though known possessed magic and with the coin in hand chance of success where high. Only one men would truly have the right to claim her maidenhood, only one men who showed her nothing but kindness, who gave her the tools to take her own fate into shape. The man who praised her, told her about her other relatives and gave her the truth. 

Her dragon to the lands beyond, the one who bears a crown of storms and rh voice of the gods themselves, Tyrael Septim. Septum was an alias he uses to move about freely and only those he trusted knew his true name and she giggled remembering when he told them how everyone of them was stunned that they didn't figure it out. Though his guardsman knew since his birth though they had waited for him to return to their fold as he spent years hiding with the people of the Skaal before traveling and training among various masters. The powder had already been mixed with everything by her guard Tyrael had sent over, one of his housecarls who sworn to protect her, he was a member of the Dragonguard, the bodyguards of Tyrael himself, Erik, Erik the Slayer who had ventured with Tyrael many times an had slain many things from rats to giants and wounded tyrannical dragons who viewed mortals as slaves. Erik was as stealthy as the wind and was garbed in clothes that was wearing clothing that suited the climate.

Erik was kneeling before her and said: “Mi’lady it's almost time." 

She nodded and clutched the coin. Her mind drifted to Drogo who had called his khalasar to attend him and they had come, forty thousand Dothraki warriors and uncounted numbers of women, children, and slaves. Outside the city walls they camped with their vast herds, raising palaces of woven grass, eating everything in sight, and making the good folk of Pentos more anxious with every passing day. The sight of slaves boiled both Erik and Dany’s blood.

"My fellow magisters have doubled the size of the city guard," Illyrio told them over platters of honey duck and orange snap peppers one night at the manse that had been Drogo's. The khal had joined his khalasar, his estate given over to Daenerys and her brother until the wedding.

Erik scoffed, he remembered the wedding of the Emperor's cousin that nearly killed her. Though rumor was it was the Dark Brotherhood, but after the near assassination of the Emperor, it turned out to be the Dominion who also nearly killed other Province leaders. Now they had ever other Province armies aimed at Summerset and the White-Gold concordant was abolished and the Dominion had to pay heavy drawback that nearly put there coffers into a dangerous level. 

“Best we get Princess Daenerys wedded quickly before they hand half the wealth of Pentos away to sellswords and bravos," Ser Jorah Mormont jested.

The exile had offered her brother his sword the night Dany had been sold to Khal Drogo; Viserys had accepted eagerly. Mormont had been their constant companion ever since. Though Viserys showed no feelings for Erik in service to her as he kept her safe as twice she was nearly assassinated. It proved he was effective at his duties. Though as Magister Illyrio laughed lightly through his forked beard, but Viserys did not so much as smile. "He can have her tomorrow, if he likes," her brother said. He glanced over at Dany, and she lowered her eyes. "So long as he pays the price. “

Illyrio waved a languid hand in the air, rings glittering on his fat fingers. "I have told you, all is settled. Trust me. The khal has promised you a crown, and you shall have it. “

" Patient is a virtue King Viserys, manh kings have lost much to being impatient. Plus it's your sister's day, be happy and show merriment.” Said Erik seriously.

The Illyrio nodded and said: “He will have the girl first, and after they are wed he must make his procession across the plains and present her to the dosh khaleen at Vaes Dothrak. After that, perhaps. If the omens favor war. “

Viserys seethed with impatience. "I piss on Dothraki omens. The Usurper sits on my father's throne. How long must I wait?”

Erik scoffed and said: “Be wary of who you anger your majesty, the Gods do not like their omens mocked. Neither more so than the dark mistress herself Vaermine. She influences nightmares, psychological terror and torment, dreams, bringing evil omens, and stealing memories. An do not mock her powers she can make your nightmares cause physical harm to you and make sure you never escape your dreams and die painfully in your sleep.”

Jorah then asked: “Ser Erik, I've heard of a man in Winterfell from travelers calling himself Ser Tyrael Septum, do you know if him?" 

“Aye, though he is younger than us, his age is near to Lady Daenerys herself. He is powerful and wields the mystic arts and is a war hero in my homeland of Skyrim. Last I've heard of him he was on an expedition to the ancient homeland of the first men of Atmora. Seems the gods guided him to Westeros." Said Erik.

" Regardless, I've heard that Lord Stark and the Ursuper have taking a liking to him. But, you few more weeks, a few more months, after all Ser Erik mentioned the Ursurper’s spies could be watching the event.” Said Illyrio.

Ser Jorah, who had traveled as far east as Vaes Dothrak, nodded in agreement. "I counsel you to be patient, Your Grace. The Dothraki are true to their word, but they do things in their own time. A lesser man may beg a favor from the khal, but must never presume to berate him. Your father never dared to." 

Viserys scowled and remained silent then he says: "I am no lesser man, I am the rightful Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. The dragon does not beg." 

“Nor does a dragon rush in your grace. They are patient as they are powerful they wait to strike at the right moment to show all there power." Said Erik with a frown.

Illyrio smiled enigmatically and tore a wing from the duck. Honey and grease ran over his fingers and dripped down into his beard as he nibbled at the tender meat. There are no more dragons, Dany thought, staring at her brother, though she did not dare say it aloud. We'll they're was only ever one in her eyes, her guardian, Tyrael. Yet one night she dreamt of one. Viserys was hitting her, hurting her. 

She was naked, clumsy with fear. She ran from him, but her body seemed thick and ungainly. He struck her again. She stumbled and fell. "You woke the dragon," he screamed as he kicked her. "You woke the dragon, you woke the dragon. " 

Her thighs were slick with blood. She closed her eyes and whimpered. As if in answer, there was a hideous ripping sound and the crackling of some great fire. When she looked again, Viserys was gone, great columns of flame rose all around, and in the midst of them was the dragon. It turned its great head slowly. When its molten eyes found hers, but then a massive thunder storm washed over and the dragon bowed as a massive dragon landed behind her. 

The dragon’s golden eyes turned indigo with its platinum scales clung and the molten eye dragon roared out as it died. She reached out and touched the new dragon and she felt safe she felt at peace and she woke, shaking and covered with a fine sheen of sweat. She had never been so afraid, and yet that last dragon… made her felt so safe and that dragon was her beloved Tyrael. With her brother and his knight and Illyrio walked off Erik then said: “Thinking about my Lord, Mi'lady." 

She blushed and Erik chuckled and said: “Worry not, few have earned the friendship we have and eve few embedded deep into his heart… an yet, you easily made your way in. It shows he must really think highly of you.”

She blushed and said: “He does, doesn't he." 

With the ceremony began at dawn and continued until dusk, an endless day of drinking and feasting and fighting. A mighty earthen ramp had been raised amid the grass palaces, and there Dany was seated beside Khal Drogo, above the seething sea of Dothraki with Erik standing behind them. She had never seen so many people in one place, nor people so strange and frightening. The horselords might put on rich fabrics and sweet perfumes when they visited the Free Cities, but out under the open sky they kept the old ways. Men and women alike wore painted leather vests over bare chests and horsehair leggings cinched by bronze medallion belts, and the warriors greased their long braids with fat from the rendering pits. They gorged themselves on horseflesh roasted with honey and peppers, drank themselves blind on fermented mare's milk and Illyrio's fine wines, and spat jests at each other across the fires, their voices harsh and alien in Dany's ears.

Viserys was seated just below her, splendid in a new black wool tunic with a scarlet dragon on the chest. Illyrio and Ser Jorah sat beside him. Theirs was a place of high honor, just below the khal's own bloodriders, but Dany could see the anger in her brother's lilac eyes. He did not like sitting beneath her, and he fumed when the slaves offered each dish first to the khal and his bride, and served him from the portions they refused. He could do nothing but nurse his resentment, so nurse it he did, his mood growing blacker by the hour at each insult to his person. It brought joy to her seeing her brother's mood.

Dany had never felt so alone as she did seated in the midst of that vast horde. Her brother had told her to smile, and so she smiled until her face ached and the tears came unbidden to her eyes. She did her best to hide them, knowing how angry Viserys would be if he saw her crying, terrified of how Khal Drogo might react. Food was brought to her, steaming joints of meat and thick black sausages and Dothraki blood pies, and later fruits and sweetgrass stews and delicate pastries from the kitchens of Pentos, but she waved it all away. Her stomach was a roil, and she knew she could keep none of it down. Though Tyrael had suggested to learn a bit of Dothraki some time ago as knowing the language of the people and their cultures helps to form bridges.

As there was no one to talk to. Khal Drogo shouted commands and jests down to his bloodriders, and laughed at their replies, but he scarcely glanced at Dany beside him. They had no common language. Dothraki was incomprehensible to her, and the khal knew only a few words of the bastard Valyrian of the Free Cities, and none at all of the Common Tongue of the Seven Kingdoms. She would even have welcomed the conversation of Illyrio and her brother, but they were too far below to hear her. Erik had to remain silent upon Illyrio words, Khal Drogo allowed Erik to stand behind them as to be ready for any who would disrupt the event. So she sat in her wedding silks, nursing a cup of honeyed wine, afraid to eat, talking silently to herself saying: “I am blood of the dragon, she told herself. I am Daenerys Stormborn, Princess of Dragonstone, of the blood and seed of Aegon the Conqueror.”

The sun was only a quarter of the way up the sky when she saw her first man die. Drums were beating as some of the women danced for the khal. Drogo watched without expression, but his eyes followed their movements, and from time to time he would toss down a bronze medallion for the women to fight over. The warriors were watching too. One of them finally stepped into the circle, grabbed a dancer by the arm, pushed her down to the ground, and mounted her right there, as a stallion mounts a mare. Illyrio had told her that might happen. "The Dothraki mate like the animals in their herds. There is no privacy in a khalasar, and they do not understand sin or shame as we do. “

Dany looked away from the coupling, frightened when she realized what was happening, but a second warrior stepped forward, and a third, and soon there was no way to avert her eyes. Then two men seized the same woman. She heard a shout, saw a shove, and in the blink of an eye the arakhs were out, long razor-sharp blades, half sword and half scythe. A dance of death began as the warriors circled and slashed, leaping toward each other, whirling the blades around their heads, shrieking insults at each clash. No one made a move to interfere. It ended as quickly as it began.

She had hoped and prayed that when she and Tyrael would do it, it would be passionate and full of love… before they went at it like wild beast. A mad blush graced her face and Erik smirked knowing what she thought The arakhs shivered together faster than Dany could follow, one man missed a step, the other swung his blade in a flat arc. Steel bit into flesh just above the Dothraki's waist, and opened him from backbone to belly button, spilling his entrails into the dust. As the loser died, the winner took hold of the nearest woman—not even the one they had been quarreling over—and had her there and then. Slaves carried off the body, and the dancing resumed. Erik whispered in disgust: “Barbaric, even the Reachfolk of Skyrim and High Rock are more refined at times of celebration." 

Magister Illyrio had warned Dany about this too. "A Dothraki wedding without at least three deaths is deemed a dull affair," he had said. Her wedding must have been especially blessed; before the day was over, a dozen men had died.

As the hours passed, the terror grew in Dany, until it was all she could do not to scream. She was afraid of the Dothraki, whose ways seemed alien and monstrous, as if they were beasts in human skins and not true men at all. She was afraid of her brother, of what he might do if she failed him. Most of all, she was afraid of what would happen tonight under the stars, when her brother gave her up to the hulking giant who sat drinking beside her with a face as still and cruel as a bronze mask. But then she remembered, the powder, everyone would see what would be expected of the event, even her brother, Erik would not. 

“I am the blood of the dragon, the blood of the dragon is I.” She said repeatedly to her self.

When at last the sun was low in the sky, Khal Drogo clapped his hands together, and the drums and the shouting and feasting came to a sudden halt. Drogo stood and pulled Dany to her feet beside him. It was time for her bride gifts. It was something that she had actually wanted to enjoy. Though after the gifts, she knew, after the sun had gone down, it would be time for the first ride and the consummation of her marriage. Dany tried to put the thought aside, but it would not leave her. 

As she hugged herself to try to keep from shaking, if Tyrael hadn't done what he did. Her brother Viserys gifted her with three handmaids. Dany knew they had cost him nothing; Illyrio no doubt had provided the girls. Irri and Jhiqui were copper-skinned Dothraki with black hair and almond-shaped eyes, Doreah a fair-haired, blue-eyed Lysene girl. "These are no common servants, sweet sister," her brother told her as they were brought forward one by one. "Illyrio and I selected them personally for you. Irri will teach you riding, Jhiqui the Dothraki tongue, and Doreah will instruct you in the womanly arts of love. " He smiled thinly. "She's very good, Illyrio and I can both swear to that." 

Erik was next, and he decided on the plan just encase her brother saw there mother crown as he would gift it to her. Standing he bowed before the couple and presented th crown and said: “I have heard tales throughout these lands of how your brother gave this up to support you both. So in my desire to service you, I searched for the crown of Rhaella Targaryen your mother and return it to its rightful hands." 

Viserys eyes widened recogniIng the crown and saw his sister accepted it. Then Ser Jorah Mormont apologized for his gift. "It is a small thing, my princess, but all a poor exile could afford," he said as he laid a small stack of old books before her. They were histories and songs of the Seven Kingdoms, she saw, written in the Common Tongue. She thanked him with all her heart.

Magister Illyrio murmured a command, and four burly slaves hurried forward, bearing between them a great cedar chest bound in bronze. When she opened it, she found piles of the finest velvets and damasks the Free Cities could produce… and resting on top, nestled in the soft cloth, three huge eggs. Dany gasped. They were the most beautiful things she had ever seen, each different than the others, patterned in such rich colors that at first she thought they were crusted with jewels, and so large it took both of her hands to hold one. She lifted it delicately, expecting that it would be made of some fine porcelain or delicate enamel, or even blown glass, but it was much heavier than that, as if it were all of solid stone. The surface of the shell was covered with tiny scales, and as she turned the egg between her fingers, they shimmered like polished metal in the light of the setting sun.

She recognized him from the drawn images Tyrael had shown her and she muttered: “Dragon eggs?" 

" Yes they are, Dragon's eggs, from the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai," said Magister Illyrio. "The eons have turned them to stone, yet still they burn bright with beauty. Though two of them are off colorations from what would be normally seen of dragon eggs.”

She nodded, the first one was, as black as a midnight storm, yet alive with amytheat ripples and swirls. The second was a Ruby red with streaks of gold and the last was a sapphire blue with burnished silver flecks depending on how she turned it. Her mind drifted to her, her niece and Tyrael. Tyrael said she was a true dragon unlike her brother and just like her niece, so each of these were for them.

"I shall treasure them always. " Dany had heard tales of such eggs, but she had never seen one, nor thought to see one. It was a truly magnificent gift, though she knew that Illyrio could afford to be lavish. He had collected a fortune in horses and slaves for his part in selling her to Khal Drogo.

But this eggs where a sign, a sign of the gods, of Tyrael’s gods. As the khal's bloodriders offered her the traditional three weapons, and splendid weapons they were. Haggo gave her a great leather whip with a silver handle, Cohollo a magnificent arakh chased in gold, and Qotho a double-curved dragonbone bow taller than she was. Magister Illyrio and Ser Jorah had taught her the traditional refusals for these offerings. "This is a gift worthy of a great warrior, O blood of my blood, and I am but a woman. Let my lord husband bear these in my stead. " And so Khal Drogo too received his "bride gifts.

Other gifts she was given in plenty by other Dothraki: slippers and jewels and silver rings for her hair, medallion belts and painted vests and soft furs, sandsilks and jars of scent, needles and feathers and tiny bottles of purple glass, and a gown made from the skin of a thousand mice. "A handsome gift, Khaleesi," Magister Illyrio said of the last, after he had told her what it was. "Most lucky. " 

As the gifts mounted up around her in great piles, more gifts than she could possibly imagine, more gifts than she could want or use. And last of all, Khal Drogo brought forth his own bride gift to her. An expectant hush rippled out from the center of the camp as he left her side, growing until it had swallowed the whole khalasar. When he returned, the dense press of Dothraki gift-givers parted before him, and he led the horse to her. She was a young filly, spirited and splendid. Dany knew just enough about horses to know that this was no ordinary animal. 

There was something about her that took the breath away. She was grey as the winter sea, with a mane like silver smoke. Hesitantly she reached out and stroked the horse's neck, ran her fingers through the silver of her mane. Khal Drogo said something in Dothraki and Magister Illyrio translated. "Silver for the silver of your hair, the khal says. 

“She's beautiful," Dany murmured.

*She is the pride of the khalasar, " Illyrio said. "Custom decrees that the khaleesi must ride a mount worthy of her place by the side of the khal. “

Drogo stepped forward and put his hands on her waist. He lifted her up as easily as if she were a child and set her on the thin Dothraki saddle, so much smaller than the ones she was used to. Dany sat there uncertain for a moment. No one had told her about this part. "What should I do?" she asked.

Erik stepped forward and said: “Take the reins and be calm and ride. You need not to go far.”

Nervously Dany gathered the reins in her hands and slid her feet into the short stirrups. She was only a fair rider; she had spent far more time traveling by ship and wagon and palanquin than by horseback. Praying that she would not fall off and disgrace herself, she gave the filly the lightest and most timid touch with her knees. And for the first time in hours, she forgot to be afraid. Or perhaps it was for the first time ever. The silver-grey filly moved with a smooth and silken gait, and the crowd parted for her, every eye upon them. 

Dany found herself moving faster than she had intended, yet somehow it was exciting rather than terrifying. The horse broke into a trot, and she smiled. Dothraki scrambled to clear a path. The slightest pressure with her legs, the lightest touch on the reins, and the filly responded. She sent it into a gallop, and now the Dothraki were hooting and laughing and shouting at her as they jumped out of her way. As she turned to ride back, a firepit loomed ahead, directly in her path. 

They were hemmed in on either side, with no room to stop. A daring she had never known filled Daenerys then, and she gave the filly her head. The silver horse leapt the flames as if she had wings. The tribe cheered in their language seeing their chieftain rude as if she was always one of them. As she pulled up before Magister Illyrio, she said, "Tell Khal Drogo that he has given me the wind. " The fat Pentoshi stroked his yellow beard as he repeated her words in Dothraki, and Dany saw her new husband smile for the first time.

The last sliver of sun vanished behind the high walls of Pentos to the west just then. Dany had lost all track of time. Khal Drogo commanded his bloodriders to bring forth his own horse, a lean red stallion. As the khal was saddling the horse, Viserys slid close to Dany on her silver, dug his fingers into her leg, and said, "Please him, sweet sister, or I swear, you will see the dragon wake as it has never woken before." 

“Careful of your words Lord Viserys… less the Dothraki turn on you." Said Erik seriously.

The fear came back to her then, with her brother's words. She felt like a child once more, only thirteen and all alone, not ready for what was about to happen to her, but the deaf soon vanished as if she felt the arms of Tyrael around her and his voice saying: "He no longer holds the key to your cage Dany, now he has to tread carefully or the sand will swallow him.”

She clenched the reins and and turned away from him, as they rode out together as the stars came out, leaving the khalasar and the grass palaces behind. Khal Drogo spoke no word to her, but drove his stallion at a hard trot through the gathering dusk. The tiny silver bells in his long braid rang softly as he rode. "I am the blood of the dragon," she whispered aloud as she followed, trying to keep her courage up. "I am the blood of the dragon. I am the blood of the dragon. " 

The dragon was never afraid and now she was a dragon, a dragon emerging from her cage, her egg. Afterward she could not say how far or how long they had ridden, but it was full dark when they stopped at a grassy place beside a small stream. Drogo swung off his horse and lifted her down from hers. She felt as fragile as glass in his hands, her limbs as weak as water. She stood there helpless and trembling in her wedding silks while he secured the horses, and when he turned to look at her, she began to cry. Afterward she could not say how far or how long they had ridden, but it was full dark when they stopped at a grassy place beside a small stream. Drogo swung off his horse and lifted her down from hers. She felt as fragile as glass in his hands, her limbs as weak as water. She stood there helpless and trembling in her wedding silks while he secured the horses, and when he turned to look at her, she began to cry.

But then she saw him in a daze as he took a seat and began to nod off into dream land. He had a smile on his face and she saw bottoms gain a tent and noticed he was bigger than her brother. But not by much. Her mind drifted to her dragon, just then she heard: “Hello my Khalaser… enjoy the ride “

She smiled and rushed into his arms. He smiled and spun her around and under the stars of the heaven they kissed happily. As they sat together she told him all about what happen by when she spoke of the eggs he was surprised. Though he had read about Dragon Eggs he never even seen on. Though he couldn't wait, she mentioned one of them was his and it made him smile, but he then said: “Be wary of Jorah Mornent, he's a spy for Varys the eunuch, the King's master of whisperer seeking a royal pardon for his service to the crown.”

She gaped and said: " What, how… Illyrios should have…" Tyrael then said: “Don't act on this Dany, if Jeroah is killed so soon after this they will know something is admist and you would be even more endanger. Leave the issues of Westeros to me, here in Essos grow strong my lovely dragon grow strong so we can fly together one day." 

She blushed and he vanished making her sigh dreamily and giggled happily. Thankfully she wouldn't have to fake her appearance as the drug would have done it for her.

Chapter 12: The Journeys and The Dangers

Summary:

Traveling to King's Landing and something puts Tyrael on edge as well as the North being put on edge.

Chapter Text

Hours before the wedding Tyrael and the royal party for King’s landing had moved off. Riding along beside the carriage carrying Lord Stark and his daughters with the girls and Lord Stark horses falling behind with Joanna on the right of the carriage and Tyrael on the left. Tyrael was garbed in his own Nord Hero Armor with a shield on his back, his quiver hanging on his hip and the sword of Ancient tongues on his hip. Anyone could say he was ready for trouble. His eyes looked around steadily but he knew as long as they were in the north, less the dangers would be. Though when they stop for camp, the hour before the dawn, when the world was still and grey.

Lord Stark and him were summoned to see the King. Though Robert wore thick brown gloves and a heavy fur cloak with a hood that covered his ears, and looked for all the world like a bear sitting on a horse. "Up, Stark! Up, Septum!" he roared. "Up, up! We have matters of state to discuss.”

By all means," Ned said. "Come inside, Your Grace. " Alyn lifted the flap of the tent.

"No, no, no," Robert said. His breath steamed with every word. "The camp is full of ears. Besides, I want to ride out and taste this country of yours. " Ser Boros and Ser Meryn waited behind him with a dozen guardsmen, Ned saw. 

There was nothing to do but rub the sleep from his eyes, dress, and mount up. Tyrael was already awake having slept with the Stark Sisters upright and was garbed in the attire of the Skaal. Once mounted on his horse Robert set the pace, driving his huge black destrier hard as Ned galloped along beside him, trying to keep up with Tyrael behind him. He called out a question as they rode, but the wind blew his words away, and the king did not hear him. After that Ned rode in silence. They soon left the kingsroad and took off across rolling plains dark with mist. By then the guard had fallen back a small distance, safely out of earshot, but still Robert would not slow. 

Dawn broke as they created a low ridge, and finally the king pulled up. By then they were miles south of the main party. Robert was flushed and exhilarated as Ned reined up beside him. "Gods," he swore, laughing, "it feels good to get out and ride the way a man was meant to ride! I swear, Ned, this creeping along is enough to drive a man mad. " He had never been a patient man, Robert Baratheon. "That damnable wheelhouse, the way it creaks and groans, climbing every bump in the road as if it were a mountain… I promise you, if that wretched thing breaks another axle, I'm going to burn it, and Cersei can walk!”

Ned laughed. "I will gladly light the torch for you." 

“Or we could stuff a dry cloth in a bottle of ale and light the cloth and toss it at the house. Faster and we could get away quicker." Said Tyrael as he leaned.

" Good man, the both of you" The king clapped him on the shoulder. "I've half a mind to leave them all behind and just keep going.”

A smile touched Ned's lips. "I do believe you mean it. “

"I do, I do," the king said. "What do you say, Ned? Just you and me, two vagabond knights on the kingsroad, our swords at our sides and the gods know what in front of us, and maybe a farmer's daughter or a tavern wench to warm our beds tonight with your adopted son at our heels causing mischievous ef." 

Tyrael laughed and said: " That sounds like a weekend to me.”

Robert laughed and slapped his knees.

"Would that we could," Ned said, "but we have duties now, my liege… to the realm, to our children, I to my lady wife and you to your queen. We are not the boys we were. “

“Bah, who says you can't enjoy yourself. Everyone needs a time to rest and have a break. I take breaks and somehow find myself going on some adventures.” Said Tyrael.

Robert chuckled and sighed. "You were never the boy you were," Robert grumbled. "More's the pity. And yet there was that one time… what was her name, that common girl of yours? Becca? No, she was one of mine, gods love her, black hair and these sweet big eyes, you could drown in them. Yours was . . . Aleena? No. You told me once. Was it Merryl? Ashara? You know the one I mean, your bastard's mother?”

Ned clenched his fist and a tear fell in his eye.

“Her name was Ashara, and I won't speak of her anymore.” Said Ned.

“Ashara. Yes. You had fancied her long ago. Though if she could make Lord Eddard Stark forget his honor, even for a moment. Rumor has it she nearly killed herself, but was saved by a mysterious knight. Non saw his face only he wore a helmet that completely hid it and wore armor with cloth hanging from the waist. Tell me Ser Septum, why do you think she jumped?” Said Robert.

" Many things air, though I never met the woman and Lord Stark never talked about her. But from the way he is talking, part of him still lovers her. A man would never have regrets like this for a woman if he did not love her.” Said Tyrael and Robert nodded and looked away.

Ned looked at his newly appointed adopted son as he was adopted before leaving Winterfell. Ned then said: “Leave it be, Robert, for the love you say you bear me. I dishonored myself and I dishonored Catelyn, in the sight of gods and men.”

“Gods have mercy, you scarcely knew Catelyn. “ Said Robert as he looked to his brother in arms.

“I had taken her to my wife. She was carrying my child. “ Said Ned seriously.

“You are too hard on yourself, Ned. You always were. Damn it, no woman wants Baelor the Blessed in her bed. " He slapped a hand on his knee. "Well, I'll not press you if you feel so strongly about it, though I swear, at times you're so prickly you ought to take the hedgehog as your sigil.”

Tyrael snorted and as the rising sun sent fingers of light through the pale white mists of dawn. A wide plain spread out beneath them, bare and brown, its flatness here and there relieved by long, low hummocks. Ned pointed them out to his king. "The barrows of the First Men." 

Robert frowned. "Have we ridden onto a graveyard?”

“I wouldn't be surprised if we unknowingly passed a few. Skyrim had crypts all over as they were originally once cities used in ancient times before constructing towns and cities." Said Tyrael.

" There are barrows everywhere in the north, Your Grace," Ned told him. "This land is old. “

“And cold," Robert grumbled, pulling his cloak more tightly around himself. The guard had reigned up well behind them, at the bottom of the ridge. "Well, I did not bring you out here to talk of graves or bicker about your bastard. There was a rider in the night, from Lord Varys in King's Landing. Here. " The king pulled a piece of paper from his belt and handed it to Ned.

Tyrael knew from stories that Varys the eunuch was the king's master of whisperers. He served Robert now as he had once served Aerys Targaryen. Ned unrolled the paper with trepidation, thinking of Lysa and her terrible accusation, but the message did not concern Lady Arryn. "What is the source for this information?”

“Do you remember Ser Jorah Mormont?” Asked the King.

"Would that I might forget him," Ned said bluntly. The Mormonts of Bear Island were an old house, proud and honorable, but their lands were cold and distant and poor. Ser Jorah had tried to swell the family coffers by selling some poachers to a Tyroshi slaver. As the Mormonts were bannermen to the Starks, his crime had dishonored the north. Ned had made the long journey west to BearIsland, only to find when he arrived that Jorah had taken the ship beyond the reach of Ice and the king's justice. Five years had passed since then.

“Ser Jorah is now in Pentos, anxious to earn a royal pardon that would allow him to return from exile," Robert explained. "Lord Varys makes good use of him. “

" So the slaver has become a spy," Ned said with distaste. He handed the letter back. "I would rather he become a corpse. “

" I agree with you Lord Stark, slavers never received a royal pardon, it's another execution or the gladiator pit with broken equipment in Cyrodiil.” Said Tyrael seriously.

“Varys tells me that spies are more useful than corpses," Robert said. "Jorah aside, what do you make of his report?”

“Daenerys Targaryen has to wed some Dothraki horse lord. What of it? Shall we send her a wedding gift?” Asked Ned through a glint of nervousness in his eyes.

“From what I heard from travelers she is practically a trophy of her brother and abused by him. Calling himself the dragon. More like a toothless worm if you asked me. I've seen dragons, that bastard would be turned into a charred corpse by them." Said Tyrael.

The king frowned. "A knife, perhaps. A good sharp one, and a bold man to wield it. “

Tyrael then tightened his reins and Stark saw this and raised his hand as Robert didn't see this.

Ned did not feign surprise; Robert's hatred of the Targaryens was a madness in him. He remembered the angry words they had exchanged when Tywin Lannister had presented Robert with the corpses of Rhaegar's wife and children as a token of fealty. Ned had named that murder; Robert called it war. When he had protested that the young prince and princess were no more than babes, his new-made king had replied, "I see no babes. Only dragonspawn. " Not even Jon Arryn had been able to calm that storm. Eddard Stark had ridden out that very day in a cold rage, to fight the last battles of the war alone in the south. It had taken another death to reconcile them; Lyanna's death, and the grief they had shared over her passing.

“Your majesty, I should introduce you to Paarthurnax, he was one of the dragons who use to enslave humanity before realizIng how wrong it was. He hated it, despised it and decided to give humanity the means to fight back and taught men how to use the words of power of the dragons. A special ability only few can learn and master, but only one can do it instantly. Paatharax would go on to live and became a future mentor and guide to others who follow The Way of the Voice. A way of life to only use power when needed, not whenever one desired.”

Robert remained silent before grunting in disapproval. This time, Ned resolved to keep his temper. "Your Grace, the girl is scarcely more than a child. You are no Tywin Lannister, to slaughter innocents. " It was said that Rhaegar's little girl had cried as they dragged her from beneath her bed to face the swords. The boy had been no more than a babe in arms, yet Lord Tywin's soldiers had torn him from his mother's breast and dashed his head against a wall.

"And how long will this one remain innocent?" Robert's mouth grew hard. "This child will soon enough spread her legs and start breeding more dragonspawn to plague me. “

“Or she may never desire the throne for your grace. She could just want to be left alone. There's a saying don't poke the sleeping bear, leave it be. We should not give her a reason to seek the throne. You once fought for that change, but yet your allowing paranoia like the mad king did cloud your mind.* Said Tyrael, causing me to look at him as if he was crazy.

Robert hastily turned and looked at Tyrael and said: " An what do you know boy, a father burned alive, a brother force to watch from a torture device that would kill him one way or another. And a lover who you valued more than life itself raped.”

" More than you know, I was barely two years old when I watched my father torn apart by the Dominion, strapped him to horses and watched as they pulled him apart while causing electricity to course through his body. My mother, my birth died on the day of my birth, but… she really died saving me from a fire the Dominion started and I remember it, I remember it all… her screams, her suffering while I was in my father's arms crying for her. Then my mother figure, raped by bandits before they cut her head open and feasted on her brain before they feasted on the rest of her organs while I was trapped under a tree. And then the woman I loved, I failed to save her as a killed by her own family and they put her head on a spike for living a lesser species. I burned her family's Ancestral home to the ground and slaughtered them and anyone who stood in my way and I was only twelve. So I know the feeling, but I am not blinded to allow the generation who had nothing to do with the issues you faced to blind me. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to make sure Arya doesn't run off into the woods by now.”

As he rode off he scowled and snarled before finding a spot to gather his thoughts and tell her the news. Hours later, waking from giving the news toda, thus he sighed and rubbed his face. He looked down and saw Arya in her night dress curled up between his legs and he sighed. Blinking he stroked her hair and realized he the rest of the day before went flying by he hardly remembered much since nothing major happened. He noticed Fenris and Nymeria curled together happily and saw Lady and Ghostess. That is when he felt the weight on his arms, on his right was Joan sleeping happily with his arm tucked between her bosom and to his left was Sansa doing the same. 

Now he remembered, returning to Camp he went on a bender of fighting anyone in a spare and he won every single one. Today they would be traveling again. Feeling Arya rubbing her face into his morning wood and sighing happily made him pause. A devilish idea crossed his mind, his fingers curled and began tracing the girls vagina ever so slightly as he slightly generated electric magic to vibrate them causing Joan and Sansa to moan feeling his touch. For Arya he trailed his knee along her inner thigh making her shudder, it seems Arya was more sensitive with her thighs, especially closer to hers. All three girls moaned and stirred hearing the other and looked to see Tyrael awake and soon their hounds stirred and he said: “Morning girls, you slept okay?" 

Joan yawned and said: “Yeah, you're very warm… and your heart beats, it beats like a drum.”

Chuckling Sansa then said: " We best get ready, we have breakfast with the royal family before we depart.”

Arya groaned and said: "Great more time with the peacocks masquerading as royalty.”

Tyrael and Joan snorted at this but got up out of his warmth. As the girls left, moments later as he changed into a blue tunic shirt with a white design upon it over a long sleeve white shirt and beige pants with long leather boots. It was noted the tunic had chainmail in it. He muttered: “Still can't fucking believe I found the Champion’s tunic and the others on top of the throat of the world.”

He grabbed a leather belt strap and slung it over his right shoulder that had a sheath and a slot for a shield as well as a quiver hanging from it. Detaching the quiver and setting it among his things he slid on the gauntlets that went with the armor and smirked. Grabbing his shield and sword and walking out as he sheathed them on his back he walked toward the royal tent. After the meal everyone was packing their texts and Tyrael entered his tent and noticed something was off, eyeing his bedding he grabbed his sword belt and yanked the bedding and thrusted his blade and he eyed what he stopped. Coiled in his bed was Danswyrm Snake, a viper native to Skyrim that could withstand cold climates and had features akin to dragons as it was said its venom feels dragon fire. Grabbing the dead serpent he frowned, the serpent was a rare thing in the North and mostly kept in the wilds, they were too close to civilization for it to come, that meant that it was planted.

Pondering his mind drifted to suspects, one obvious being the Prince of douchebags, second would be Jaime, third would be the King and another would be someone who holds a grudge with the Starks and he was a wall that was in their way. As Ned Stark entered his tent he said: “Seems someone tried to have me assassinated from Danswyrm, it's an uncommon to rare species in the North but mostly seen in Skyrim. They prefer to stay within the woods and we are in a long open field.”

Ned Stark frowned and said: " Any idea who?”

" Few, though mostly royal court, but could be those who have it out for your family and see me as a threat to them.” He replied as his hand caught fire and turned the viper to ashes.

Lord Stark eyes the ashes and he said: “Should we monitor for more events." 

“I trust they'll pull back for a while. The realm is full of discord and insanity.” Said Tyrael.

Days went by and within Winterfell, Catelyn felt alone. She had her son's with her and she was glad her adopted son saved his baby brother from being a cripple. Though Ned, Tyrael and the girls were eight days gone when Maester Luwin came to her one night in Bran's sickroom, carrying a reading lamp and the books of account. "It is past time that we reviewed the figures, my lady," he said. "You'll want to know how much this royal visit cost us." 

Catelyn looked at Bran in his sickbed and brushed his hair back off his forehead. It had grown very long, she realized. She would have to cut it soon. "I have no need to look at figures, Maester Luwin," she told him, never taking her eyes from Bran. "I know what the visit cost us. Taking the books away, Tyrael has left us a few gems to help cover most of the cost. That boy is truly a blessing “

“My lady, the king's party had healthy appetites. We must replenish our stores before—” but before he could say more Lydia entered and said: “Fret not Maester Luwin, I have already taken measures to secure more food." 

“How?" Asked the man, the Maester was aware of Tyrael’s magic capabilities and knew how truly Lydia was here, so Lydia said: “He had sent word to his plantations through an ally of ours and this time next week the stocks will be more plentiful.”

Tyrael has many houses and many of them, in Mortal Windstad was the second largest fishery in Skyrim, Hrljarchen was the second most popular brewery as it doubled as a hub for most alchemical ingredients and food mainly thrive in very cold climates. Lakeview was an area of rest as well as slaughterhouse and a.checkpoint to Helgen. Luwin then asked: “How will they get here that soon?" 

“With this…" she pulled out a strange golden brass device with a crystal in the center and said: “This is like a beacon for a ship out at sea. They find this and come. They'll bring charcoal, food, medicine and much needed things. Tyrael has more than one man could ask for as he never truly takes a breather, he says he does, but everyone back home knows he will go crazy if he does." 

Catelyn smiled and was glad, Tyrael truly was a blessing from hers, Ned’s gods. Luwin then said: “We still don't have a Steward as Poole went south to establish Lord Eddard's household at King's Landing.”

" I can know someone who might help. She's a bit eccentric but she has heart, she is a close friend of mine and Tyrael's. She is from an aristocratic family who knows the ways around the noble courts and how to run businesses. I can even summon her if you'd like. The wrist ring I possess is linked to a special summoning magic tied, there is a sigil for each of close comrade to Tyrael. One of our comrades Erik is in Essos in official business for Tyrael to monitor a supposed danger.” Said Lydia.

“That would be much appreciated. I would very much like to meet more of my adoptive son's friends.” Said Catelyn as Bean groaned weakly, surprising everyone.

It was a groan showing he was fighting and staying strong which made his mother all the more happy seeing her beloved son moving. A knock was heard and Robb entered with his wolf Grey wind who walked over to his brother Summer who hadn't left Bran’s side and sat down a bone for the wolf to snack on. Robb then asked: “How is he?" 

“Strong my young Lord. He shows signs of him regaining his strength. We are fortunate for Ser Septum honor and loyalty to his friends. Miss Lydia was about to call another of Ser Septum’s friends to lend us aid with our books." Said Luwin.

Lydia raised her arm to show a metal ring around her wrist and on it were small faces with gem-like eyes and she said: “When the gems are out, that means they are free." 

On the lower half of the band was an arrow and as she turned the bottom half it stopped upon the face of a young girl with a spider beside her. Just then a bright blue and grey orb appeared in the room swirling and it vanished as in its wake reading a book while walking was a young girl with her brown hair tied up with braids as she had a small scar on her cheek with blemishes and reddish cheeks. She wore a button up white shirt, brown leather pants and boots with a large brown backpack on her back with a golden bronze crossbow with a quiver of bolts on her back waist with a pair of amber daggers strapped to her waist. Lydia sighed and snatched the book and the girl had dark eyes with a pair of spectacles on the bridge of her nose that hung there. She called out: “Hey!" 

Seeing Lydia she then said: “Oh, hey Lydia… please tell me you didn't summon me to eat you apple, cabbage clam chowder again.”

Robb turned green and gagged hard alongside everyone in the room as Lydia said: " No, we are in Winterfell and…" after explaining the situation Remiel sighed and said: “It will be just a normal expedition he said, nothing serious he said, I won't get into trouble he said. Tyrael can not stop finding these situations can he?" 

“I am afraid not. Thankfully the language written is so similar to the common written language in Tamriel that it won't be an issue. So you in?" 

" Sure, I just finished putting Scrap into its new body and Tyrael's design was amazing.…” Just then she had a smaller version of the orb she emerged from and shot it out of her hand onto the floor as Lydia saw Scrap emerge into what was similar looking to a Hammerfell Dwarven spider crossed with an actual spider. The spider was now better armored and looked to have mandibles as the legs each had a spike on them that could spring out.

Lydia then said: “What's different about this body for him?" 

“I'll tell you later, so Maester Luwin, the books if you are so kind." The man nodded and handed them over and led her out of the room with Scrap following behind her as it sounded like tapping metal along the way.

Lydia sided and said: “That was her Automaton, a semi-sentient contraption. Tyrael and her had designed that body together after he was badly damaged in a very serious battle and they couldn't repair him." 

Catelyn nodded and said: “Is it a threat?" 

“Not to use no, it attacks on Remiel’s command and powers down or goes to sleep until she moves." Said Lydia.

Robb then said: "She seems more like a Librarian than a fighter.”

" Well, technically she is, but she is skilled with her crossbow and handy with a knife and knows how to brew some healing salves and do some healing magic as well as a bit of thievery against people like the Lannisters.” Said Lydia.

Robb sighed and said: “I beat join them, as acting Lord I must do my duty." 

As the heir of the north walked away with his wolf, Catelyn heard the door closed and said: “Lydia, do you think I am being neglectful? I didn't bid my husband and my daughters farewell not to Tyrael.”

" No my lady, you are as worried as any mother would for her child." Said Lydia.

“It's just, I can't leave him, even for a moment, not when any moment could be his last. I have to be with him, if… if…” she took her son's limp hand, sliding his fingers through her own. He was so frail and thin, with no strength left in his hand, but she could still feel the warmth of life through his skin.

Lydia then said: “Your son will not die Last Stark, Tyrael would journey to the afterlife and drag him back in post haste. Every day he shows signs of growing stronger and stronger. Soon he'll be able to spread his wings and fly once more." 

She then asked: " But what if Bran needs me and I'm not here?”

"Lady Stark, Rickon needs you, Robb needs you, our people need you. Bran would want you to be strong and he knows you will be with him every step of the way.” Said Lydia.

Just then she opened the window and a chorus of bowls was heard and Lydia said: “Bean needs to hear this to guide him, to give him strength. This is their song for him… just listen.” As she did, the howls were like a rhythm with such focus and intune with one another she was honestly impressed.

Her eyes began to drift and close and soon the howls gained barking and Lydia eyes narrowed and she said: “That's no good…” just then she pulled out her a pale silver ring with triangles on both sides of an icy blue gem of Stalhrim and her eyes gained a wispy color of red and blue.

Catelyn asked: “What, what's wrong… what's wrong with your eyes?”

" An enchantment from the ring. It allows us to see in the dark and to see where the living and the dead are in wisps of colors. Blue for friendly, red for hostile and I am seeing red. But that's not the issue, the library is a blaze likely a distraction…" She unsheathed her sword and heard the room door creek, spinning around her fist went straight through the door and with a yank a man was pulled through the door and thrown into the wall opposite.

The man cried out only to soon scream as Lydia's sword was lodged into his leg and he screamed in pain and horror as soon the leg was severed. He clutched the bleeding stump but Lydia poured a red gel like liquid onto it and the stump stopped bleeding and sealed itself. The man looked up to see Lydia looking at him as the man was a dirty man in filthy brown clothing that smells of horses. He has a gaunt face, limp blond hair, and pale deep-sunk eyes. On the floor behind Lydia was a Valyrian Steel dagger with a dragon one hilt. Lydia eyes narrowed and she said: “Who hired you, answer me. Or you will be direwolf food.”

Summer snarled and stalked toward the man with hatred in its eyes as Catelyn was afraid. Soon Robb and several guardsman rushed inside to see the assassin. The assassin snarl and reached inside his tunic and pulled out a small vial only for a crossbow bolt to zip pass vmeveryone and destroy the vial surprising the assassin. Lydia and everyone saw Remiel with her crossbow and said: “Fire is handled. Good thing that substance Tyrael designed from a that foamy substance and implanted it into Scrap was ingenious. He called it Aqueous.”

Lydia smirked and and said: “Glad I made the right call, so assassin. Speak, or becoming food for the wolves alive. And I'll personal make sure they knawl on your bits painfully." 

Every male winced and the man paled and shouted: *The Prince…, the Prince hired me saying I would be doing the pad a favor… by putting him out of his misery.”

Lydia tossed the man before Robb who grabbed him with a snarl and she said: " His face is yours Lord Stark.”

" You tried to kill my brother, attack my mother and damage my home, your crimes warrant death.” Said Robb and Remiel who had bent down as Scrap walked up to her and produced a vial and said: “Here, this should do it… he wanted to sue to poison then let him. Though the poison will cause him untold pain as it feels like he was on fire and driven to madness before succumbing to death.”

Robb took it and popped the cork and forced the man to drink it and said: " Bind his hands and gag him and throw him in the darkest dungeon we have.”

With that h tossed the man to the guards who began to wither in pain as if he was feeling a burning sensation and soon he was taken away and gagged and muffled as the muffle sounds of screams was heard. Luwin entered and picked up the dagger and Lydia said examining it: "To think… no, I caught a glimpse of Prince Joffrey and already saw a Tyrannical ruler." 

Remiel scoffed and said: “Great, I thought I left High Rocks politics behind." 

Later as old Nan undressed Lady Stark and helped her into a scalding hot bath and washed the blood off her with a soft cloth. Once she was cleaned she felt exhausted, so tired and yet… Luwin gave her something to help her and Scrap came up and a melody began to play, a melody that reminded her of her youth and soon the land of dreams took her. When she opened them again, they told her that she had slept four days. Catelyn nodded and sat up in bed. It all seemed like a nightmare to her now, everything since Bran's fall, a terrible dream of blood and grief, but she had the pain in her hands to remind her that it was real. She felt weak and light-headed, yet strangely resolute, as if a great weight had lifted from her. 

"Bring me some bread and honey," she told her servants, "and take word to Maester Luwin that I wish to see him and send for my sons and Lydia.”

They looked at her in surprise and ran to do her bidding. before, and she was ashamed. She had let them all down, her children, her husband, her House. It would not happen again. She would show these northerners how strong a Tully of Riverrun could be. She then noticed the Nordic pendant similar to the ring Lydia wore that Tyrael had crafted for her, he said it would help her to fight off most poisons and heal minor wounds. Putting the necklace on she smiled before scolding herself for being a fool. Robb and Lydia with Rickon by her side arrived before her food. Rodrik Cassel came with him, and her husband's ward Theon Greyjoy, and lastly Hallis Mollen, a muscular guardsman with a square brown beard. He was the new captain of the guard, Robb said. Her son was dressed in boiled leather and ringmail, she saw, and a sword hung at his waist. Rickon rushed and climbed into his mother's bed and hugged her and she returned the affection happily. Lydia then began to explain they found where the assassin stayed in the stables with a bag of ninety silver stags.

"Who was he?" Catelyn asked them.

  "No one knows his name," Hallis Mollen told her. "He was no man of Winterfell, m'lady, but some says they seen him here and about the castle these past few weeks. " 

" One of the king's men, then," she said, "or one of the Lannisters'. He could have waited behind when the others left." 

"Maybe," Hal said. "With all these strangers filling up Winterfell of late, there's no way of saying who he belonged to.”

" But his words where he was hired by the prince, most likely he was hired around the time of their arrival. Though where the dagger came from is the question, the Prince possible had it in him or took it from someone.” Said Lydia.

“It's good to know my son's life was not sold cheaply, We should repay his majesty in kind." Catelyn said bitterly.

" An we will Lady Stark. The bands allow us to send messages to one another as well. I sent word to Tyrael about this and he has replied back he will be monitoring this. But he believes that their was more to it than this. An suspect that other assassins may have been near if one was this close others would have been as well and with this failed assassination they most likely fled.” Said Lydia as Theron said: "Some of the men have noted some travelers had quickly left Winterfell in a hurry two days ago.”

" So we had other assassins after our family. Anything else my brother mentioned Lydia?" Said Robb.

“Only that he and the King are at odds with one another about murdering children." Said Lydia as she pulled out the dagger that was meant to be used and said: "I fear war may be on the horizon." 

Chapter 13: The Journey and The Paths We Take

Summary:

Many roads always lead to one place. Many points of life always leads to one ending. An yet Tyrael is making a large move.

Chapter Text

As Eddard Stark had left before dawn, Septa Mordane informed Sansa as they broke their fast. "The king sent for him. Another hunt, I do believe. There are still wild aurochs in these lands, I am told. “

"I've never seen an aurochs," Sansa said, feeding a piece of bacon to Lady under the table. The direwolf took it from her hand, as delicate as a queen.

Septa Mordane sniffed in disapproval. "A noble lady does not feed dogs at her table," she said, breaking off another piece of comb and letting the honey drip down onto her bread.

Tyrael snorted as he stepped inside with Arya at his side and had her sword Hati at her side and in her leathers for training with Nymeria and Fenris at their sides.

"She's not a dog, she's a direwolf," Sansa pointed out as Lady licked her fingers with a rough tongue. "Anyway, Father said we could keep them with us if we want. “

The septa was not appeased. "You're a good girl, Sansa, but I do vow, when it comes to that creature you're as willful as your sister Arya and Joan." 

“Be mindful Septa, they are the sigil of the house you serve and represent everything a Stark stands for." Said Tyrael with an edge to his voice.

Sansa then said: “Nice of you to join us, how was training?" 

“Good, though why are you having me practice sewing while dodging your attacks." Said Arya with a glare 

“Help you get a better steady hand, even wielding a sword, a steady hand is more useful than a hand that relies on power." Said Tyrael.

Septa noticed the stitch work and said: “Most impressive…” She was eyeing the stitches cloth and saw only a few noticeable stitches, though Sansa could hardly be called what it was stitched.

Arya smiled and enjoyed her breakfast as Fenris grabbed a silver plate with some bones etched into them and Tyrael dropped some food on the three plates and the wolves ate from them. Septa then said: “Arya does remember to dress nicely today. The grey velvet, perhaps. We are all invited to ride with the queen and Princess Myrcella in the royal wheelhouse, and we must look our best.”

Arya groaned and Tyrael snorted and got punched in the shoulder and he laughed heartily. Sansa giggled at her sister, she truly felt happy. Her and her sister may see things differently but they understand one another better and respect one another. The Septa then said: “She had also requested your presence as well Ser Tyrael." 

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose and said: “Any clue why?" 

“Not allow Ser, but Princess Myrcella had mentioned the Queen wished to know something." replied Septa 

Though Sansa already looked her best. She had brushed out her long auburn hair until it shone, and picked her nicest blue silks. She had been looking forward to today for more than a week. It was a great honor to ride with the queen, and besides, Prince Joffrey might be there. Her trial betrothed. Just thinking it made her feel a strange, sick inside, even though they were not to marry for years and years if the trial was a success. Sansa did not really know Joffrey yet, but she was already disgusted with him. 

Tyrael mentioned to watch the Prince and if she was asked to accompany him, do so but keep her weapon in hand. Though the knight said: “Well then, Arya better hurry and wash up. I know you may not like it, but you can't deny royalty unless you have no other choice." 

Later the three were outside, Sansa stood for a moment amidst the shouts and curses and the creak of wooden wheels as the men broke down the tents and pavilions and loaded the wagons for another day's march. The inn was a sprawling three-story structure of pale stone, the biggest that Sansa had ever seen, but even so, it had accommodations for less than a third of the king's party, which had swollen to more than four hundred with the addition of her father's household and the freeriders who had joined them on the road. Arya then said: “Can you believe that was where King Robert killed Rhaegar and won the crown.”

" That is what some say, but others say he won it because many backed him when Jaime Lannister had killed the king and the Lannister army seized King’s Landing.” Said Tyrael.

"Well I wanted to go with Mycah upstream and look for rubies at the ford.” Said Arya.

Sansa looked lost and Tyrael said: “Not wise Arya, most likely the King’s party has picked up some marauders watching us as we speak." 

Arya scoffed and said: “I do not care." 

“Well the Carriage will not leave till the King returns and most likely after they are done hunting cows, the King will drink for hours before we move on. Face it, we all know it is going to happen." Said Tyrael

Arya snorted in laughter as Sansa giggled but she then said: “Still the princess is expecting us. The queen invited us both.”

“I don't care," Arya said. "The wheelhouse doesn't even have windows, you can't see a thing. “

“What would you want to see?" Sansa said, annoyed. She had been thrilled by the invitation, and her stupid sister was going to ruin everything, just as she'd feared. "It's all just fields and farms and holdfasts.”

She sighed and pulled out a journal Tyrael gave to her as she opened it. It showed pressed flowers with writing and she said: “When we were crossing the Neck, I counted thirty-six flowers I never saw before, and Mycah showed me a lizard-lion.”

Sansa shuddered. They had been twelve days crossing the Neck, rumbling down a crooked causeway through an endless black bog, and she had hated every moment of it. The air had been damp and clammy, the causeway so narrow they could not even make proper camp at night, they had to stop right on the kingsroad. Dense thickets of half-drowned trees pressed close around them, branches dripping with curtains of pale fungus. Huge flowers bloomed in the mud and floated on pools of stagnant water, but if you were stupid enough to leave the causeway to pluck them, there were quicksands waiting to suck you down, and snakes watching from the trees, and lizard-lions floating half-submerged in the water, like black logs with eyes and teeth. None of which stopped Arya, of course.

One day she came back grinning her horsey grin, her hair all tangled and her clothes covered in mud, clutching a raggedy bunch of purple and green flowers for Father. Sansa kept hoping he would tell Arya to behave herself and act like the highborn lady she was supposed to be, but he never did, he only hugged her and thanked her for the flowers. That just made her worse. Then it turned out the purple flowers were called poison kisses, and Arya got a rash on her arms. Sansa would have thought that might have taught her a lesson, but Arya laughed about it, and the next day she rubbed mud all over her arms like some ignorant bog woman just because her friend Mycah told her it would stop the itching. She had bruises on her arms and shoulders too, dark purple welts and faded green-and-yellow splotches, Sansa had seen them when her sister undressed for sleep. 

How she had gotten those only the seven gods knew. Though Tyrael had brought her some ointments to rub on her and told Arya to be careful and ask someone before she did something. Arya then said: “Last week we found this haunted watchtower, and the day before we chased a herd of wild horses. You should have seen them run when they caught a scent of Nymeria.”

Nymeria smiled with a wolfish grin and Fenris shook his head. 

“You're not supposed to leave the column," Sansa reminded her. "Father said so. “

Arya shrugged. "I didn't go far. Anyway, Nymeria was with me the whole time. I don't always go off, either. Sometimes it's fun just to ride along with the wagons and talk to people.”

Sansa knew all about the sorts of people Arya liked to talk to: squires and grooms and serving girls, old men and naked children, rough-spoken freeriders of uncertain birth. Arya would make friends with anybody. This Mycah was the worst; a butcher's boy, thirteen and wild, he slept in the meat wagon and smelled of the slaughtering block. Just the sight of him was enough to make Sansa feel sick, but Arya seemed to prefer his company to hers. Tyrael then said: “Yes, but Arya at least joined them to rest at least. Nymeria will be fine with Fenris as will Lady. Besides, you might learn something. Plus I need you to keep your sister safe from Joffrey.”

Arya looked at him and he asked: “Why is that?" 

He held a folded up piece of paper and said: “A colleague of mine has sent a letter to me. They are excellent at recovering lost property and had gotten something I asked for this to search and I have to meet him nearby. That's why I want you with your sister Arya. Please." 

She frowned and said: “Oh fine, but you owe me Mister."

He smiled and patted her shoulder before walking off. Leaving the royal party he headed deep into the area and frowned. Turning invisible and muffling his movement he was gone. Emerging some distance away, Tyrael used a teleporter spell. But it was shaped like a door. Dropping a stone with a rune on it the young man went through and soon emerged into an eastern stone carved temple within a mountain. Looking to a small area to Earn their keeper of knowledge he said: “Eabern, get Delphine. Now!" 

Esbern jumped and said: “Dr… Dragonborn, you have returned."

" Get me Delphine.” He said taking a seat of the throne as his attire changed into him wearing the visage of the Dragonborn armor set he ventured to gather the artifacts of his predecessors. 

Hung around his neck was the very amulet of kings with the red diamond shining ever so. By his side was an hexagon tower shield with the emblem of Lord Akatosh with a son above it, a bucket like helm at his fit with small horns emerging from the sides, the Lord’s mail after it took on the shape for when he used the force in the aether, the ring of Zurin Arctus on his finger and the boots of Wulfharth. Fluttering behind him was a dragon scales cape that was made from Alduin’s scales. Holding the cape around his neck as a clasp made of Adamantium.

Delphine, a Breton woman with long blonde hair tied in a ponytail garbed in dragonguard elite armor as esbern wore the robes with some.or the armaments of the light armor. Esbern wielded a Dragonguard dagger while Delphine wielded the Great Sword. Sure they had the blades, armor and weapons, but they were more used for new recruits and lower ranked members now, while the Dragonguard style was for veterans and the upper ranks. Delphine kneeled and said: “Hail Dragonborn, what is it you require." 

Esbern then said: “We've heard you were traveling to Atmora. What has happened." 

Tyrael sighed and began to speak his tale in bits and pieces and when he mentioned about the rebellion the two members of the blades scowled, it was sick how the King wouldn't care if children's corpses were brought to him. Just then he spoke of the White Walkers and various other dangers and they looked worried, Tyrael then said: “Eabern, from our expeditions did any of the old Akaviri bases mentioned to the continents East of Akaviri?" 

“Yes my Lord, one entry from a General Shin mentioned about a land far east, though they mentioned traveling to a think.mist, a.mist that felt unnatural and when they emerged it was day as when they just entered the must the sun had set." Said Esbern.

“Sounds like the mist was a barrier of sorts. Anything that passes into it comes out on either side, never knowing what's inside of it.” Said Tyrael.

" My thoughts are exactly my Lord. But these White Walkers, are you sure they are a threat?" Asked Esbern.

“Yes, a thousand yeRs Westeros believed them.to be a myth and I have seen them. Tales told of how they were defeated to non-existence, but by now the white walkers have amassed an army. How many I do not know. What I do know is that according to journal remains in Akaviri and one in Atmora spoke of the White Walkers having a king who can turn the dead into its own army. With centuries passed the King has a massive army, how big I do not know. The text spoke of obsidian, a dragon blood infused steel, fire itself and other things found in Tamriel that can harm them. Though the horse is not what concerns me that Tamriel is endangered, no, I saw undead Sea Giants among them.”

His mind drifted to the day he saw a Sea Giant on the far north shore of Westeros and it looked dead and almost like a Draugr. Esbern and Delphine eyes widened hearing this, Esbern said: "This is concerning, they may have a way to cross the seas." 

" Yes, a massive legion of undead on our doorsteps is something I do not wish for. Which is why word must be spread to others. Esbern, I need you and the scribes send out messages. Make sure one is each sent to the appropriate people. A meeting will be held within our temple, a secure fortified location.” Said Tyrael as Esbern nodded and Delphine then said: "And of me, Dragonborn.”

" Delphine I need you to get started on fortifying the encampment in the area, make it more secure and welcoming. I have a list of people for you to contact for supplies in my study. Top right hand small cupboard.” He said and she nodded and bowed before leaving.

Pulling a parchment and quill with some ink he began to write the names and said once finished: " Here it is Esbern. Make sure a letter is sent to each one of them. I've also listed code phrases for members to say to these people to take it seriously.” 

" When shall they come, Dragonborn?” Esbern and Tyrael then said: "A year, and make note that we are preparing to fortify our position." 

Esbern bowed and left. Leaning back into the throne he sighed and punched the bridge of his nose and rubbed his hands before leaving and returned to Westeros. Emerging he began traveling alongside the river and returned to what he wore and his heritage was stored away save for the sword at his back. Stretching he continued walking, putting his hands behind his head and began whistling a sea shanty. Just then he saw Joffrey slash at Arya and as Nymeria was about to lunge at the Prince with an intent to kill, Tyrael's eyes narrowed and said: “Tiid.Klo.Ul.”

Watching the scene was Mycah and Sansa with fear in their eyes and Nymeria was almost upon the prince. Just then time slowed down and Tyrael rushed in and he grabbed Nymeria and at the water’s edge and brought his sword up to block Joffre's sword shattered upon contact sending bits of metal flying. Everyone stared in surprise seeing Tyrael just there and Nymeria was then pinned as Fenris came from the bushes as Tyrael had whispered for him to be by Arya's side from a distance before he left. Tyrael then said: “ENOUGH! BACK TO THE CAMP ALL OF YOU RIGHT NOW, BANDITS COULD BE NEAR NOW MOVE!”

Joffrey scowled and said: “Who are you to order me knight." 

“The man who saved your arse from being chow. Now move or I'm going to kick your ass. Sansa takes Arya back now, Mycah returns to your father. Fenris makes sure Nymeria gets back to the camp." Said Tyrael as he sheathed his blade and began dragging Joffrey to his horse and picked him up and placed him on it and smacked the horse's ass and sent it running. 

Sansa and Arya mount Sansa’s horse and ride off. Tyrael whistled and Epona came rushing from the treeline and he jumped on from the back and rode off catching up to them as Mycah was grabbed along the way and pulled into Epona. Upon returning he got Mycah down before reaching into his large saddlebag on his horse as she wore the Imperial Legion Saddle which was a long wrapped parcel and had a cord on it. Slung it over his shoulder he then grabbed Joffrey and Arya and began dragging them as they heard the King and Eddard had returned as the hunt had ended early as they found some bandits nearby and took care of them. Storming into the King’s tent with the two of them where Eddard and the Royal family sat, they noticed Tyrael dragging the two and Sansa walking up from behind with her head down.

Cersei then asked: “What is the meaning of this, unhand my son." 

Releasing the Prince he bowed and said: “Apologies, but it seems the prince needs a harsh lesson in actions that must be taught before taking action. I was returning to meet a friend along the river to receive a parcel of an item I had him go to retrieve when I saw the Prince attacking Arya and the butcher's son Mycah was on the ground with a broken stick and Arya’s wolf lunging at the prince. I intercepted it and ended it before it could escalate even more. Right, Sansa.”

Sansa froze and looked away, Arya looked to her sister with eyes begging for her to speak up and she did not. Joffrey then said: " It's not like that at all, I was having a small match with swords against the butcher's son when the Stark girls wolf tried to attack me.”

" Then explain your broken sword, your majesty. I easily blocked it and it shattered upon contact with mine. Just north along the river near where you defeated Rhaegar is the remains of a broken sword, your majesty.” Said Tyrael.

Just then Lord Stark said: " And what was this parcel you went to retrieve?”

" Something lost to Her Majesty's family. My friend has a knack for locating lost items. Though it was difficult, he had found it…” said Tyrael as he unwrapped it to reveal the pommel of a roaring golden lion and further unwrapped it to reveal and red and golden sword handle and a long golden cross guard with a red and gold sheathed with a lion on it. Unsheathing it to reveal it to be a Valyrian Steel sword. Jaime and Cersei froze and stood in haste and Jaime asked in a hard loud whisper: “Is that?" 

“My Queen, Set Jaime, I present to you… Brightroar and I am happy to return this to your family.” Said Tyrael, bowing as he held it out.

Jaime stepped forward and took the Great Sword and eyed it. He turned and said: “You have done a great service to the Lannister family Ser Tyrael, I will make sure my father hears of this. But tell us, why were you so keen on finding this?" 

“I was not, he was searching for something else entirely. I asked him to search for Blackfyre as I had desired to put it in my museum, unfortunately his trail went into a dead end and we couldn't find anything else. His last message was that he would bring this to me and return to Skyrim to spend his final days with his family.” Said Tyrael.

Jaime nodded and said: " You will still be rewarded for this, father will make sure of it. Returning to the royal family side. 

Cersei frowned and raised her hand to lick her lips already knowing how she'll repay him. Ned sighed and Robert said: “Unfortunately this incident can not be overlooked. Need… a prince must be paid. And the return of Brightroar is for the Lannister family, not to mine.”

Arya paled and when the price was told she felt like she was killed. She stood frozen and she looked to Sansa with a look, begging her to speak to do something. But she only looked away. Tyrael made the move to.bring her into his arms and walked her out and whispered: " I have an idea… just trust me." 

She nodded stiffly and when it was called for Ned to do it, Tyrael volunteered in his place as to.kill the wolf would be labeling Lord Stark as King slayer. Tyrael walked out and came back with a pelt, a large wolf pelt. Sansa stared frozen at it and Lord Stark was also seemingly morbid by this and Tyrael.knelt and said: “Here is the pelt." 

The Queen smiled and said: “You are quite skilled to get this done, and it is well cleaned." 

“I was raised by a tribe similar to the Wildlings who were more kinders and valued life than those beyond the wall when I was nothing but knee high. They hunted and used tusks, pelts, claws and fangs to trade with. Cleaning a pelt is childsplay." Said Tyrael as he walked away with the three Starks behind him.

Joan whistled and motioned over, they followed her to the end of the camp where Ghost, Fenris, Lady and Nymeria all sat. Arya rushed and hugged her wolf with tears of joy and Lord Stark then said: “How, we saw…” I have pelts stashed in my pocket space used to make leather feathers. And Sansa… I am very disappointed in you… you remained silent when someone innocent was in trouble. You nearly cost the pack a life, you practically were the killer itself.”

Sansa flinched and Tyrael.then said: "Unfortunately Nymeria will be sent back to the north." 

Pulling out a collar that had a small metal tag with a rune and said: “I have this linked to Lydia so Nymeria will be safe in the North and to help keep Bran safe. But that is something else we must discuss… Bran was nearly assassinated.”

The family froze and had a look of horror on their faces and the younger sisters covered their mouths and Joan and Lord Stark looked stunned as he said: " The assassin set fire to the Library, thankfully Lydia had called in another Allie of mine to help be the temporary Steward of the North till a new one is pointed. The assassin was dealt with and Bran is safe, though Catelyn Stark has finally gotten some rest.”

Ned then said: " I shouldn't have left, I… I shouldn't have…” Tyrael placed a hand on his shoulder and said: "It would have happened anyway. They discovered the assassin was a Catspaw and was paid ninety silver stags to put Bran out of his misery as a mercy. The assassin admitted it was Prince Joffrey who hired him and gave him the weapon.”

Arya, Joan and Ned eyes hardened as the wolves growled with a heavy snarl and Sansa looked like she was in denial and he said: "Though… we can do nothing. I hate to say it, I hate that we can do nothing. But that's all we can do. Going after the prince is suicide. All we have is the words of a dead man, the royal family would deny the accusations and play it as if the man was lying." 

Ned kicked over a barrel and said: “Damn it all!" 

Sansa then said: " He would… the prince would not… he wouldn't." 

Tyrael stood before her and said: “Get it through your head Sansa, there's a fine line from the Prince you wish and Joffrey, Joffrey is a cruel and a bastard. The gods will condemn him to Oblivion/Hell when he dies. And if you still believe his few kind words make him a saint, then you're a child." 

He walked off and Nymeria rubbed against Arya who hugged her and Tyrael handed Arya a silver ring that was a wolf that wrapped around her finger. He then said: “Had these made months ago and tuned a spell to each wolf. Yours is tuned with Nymeria and you can call her when needed as well as send her to Winterfell….” Going down he attached a note to the collar and said: " This will explain why she's back. Fenris you'll be going as well.”

Fenris nodded understanding and Arya bid her wolf farewell they were sent off. Just then an explosion was heard from within the camp, the family rushed toward the sound, and for them by the butchers tent with a fire pit was the charred remains of Mycah and Arya cried out in anguish. Tyrael wrapped his arms around her stopping her and Arya turned to see Joffrey in the background with the hound eyeing the scene as did Tyrael. That night Tyrael scowled and was sharpening his sword and he stopped hearing his tent flaps move and saw Sansa step inside and he said: “I take it you want to listen to reason, or argue like a love struck child. Face it Sansa, you alone nearly cost Arya Nymeria. And if Nymeria succeeded in her attack, she would be hunted and Lady would have been the Queen's choice for a pelt.” Said Tyrael causing Sansa to freeze and she said: " No it would never come to that. The Prince is kind, you are just jealous.”

" Jealous of what, bigotry… geeze I thought I thought you better than that. Seems you are still too much of a child. Guess that's what Arya has over you. You may be more refined for southern courts than her, but at least she doesn't lie and act like a child." Said Tyrael and she gasped and said: “How dare you!" 

“How dare I, no how dare you for practically choosing over some childish developed crush over family. Family had stood by you, family who would die for you. Guess we know where your allegiance is." He said finishing his sharpening and stood up and left.

Walking amongst the gent he shook his head, it seemed while he was gone, the Prince hanged around Sansa like a fruit fly and with honeyed words he twisted her perception. Muttering to himself he said: “Don't worry you incestuous bastard. Your hourglass is almost empty." 

Meanwhile within Sky Haven Temple Esbern and three Scribes began writing the letters. Letters where being sent to: High Queen Elisif the Fair, Jarl Balgruuf, Regent Tullius, Emperor Titus Mede, Lleril Morvayn, Neloth of House Telvanni, Frea of the Skaal, Aela the Huntress, Tolfdir, Karliah, Nazir, Isran, Valerica, Arngeir, Neveraine, Auryen Morellus and Knight-Paladin Gelebor.”

The list of names seemed to be all those that have positions within Skyrim. Aela was the unofficial leader of the Companions, Tolfdir for the College, Karliah he wasn't sure not was he sure about Nazir, Isran lead the Dawnguard, Valerica he had no idea, Arngeir was the unofficial leader of the Greybeards, though the Neveraine. That was something that surprised him, then Auryen who was the curator for the Dragonborn Gallery and Gelebor was an actual snow elf, one of the few survivors that exist. Whatever will happen will be a meeting one for history. Within Essos Dany watched as Drogo and the Dothraki rode off most likely for a hunt while her brother was not around which brought a smile to her face as she finally had some silence. Entering the tent she looked upon the three eggs and touched them. She felt the warmth of flames coming from the red one, the crisp feeling of winter from the blue one and felt a very weak shock from the black one.

Soon she heard: “Caring for children." 

She blushed at those words that were full of a playful tone and more. She turned to see Tyrael who looked exhausted and she gave a weak smile and said: “Look babies, daddy’s home." 

He laughed and walked over and touched the black eggs before going across them and he smiled: " They're strong and alive.”

" I know, I have dreams of them hatching. Each one hatch differently, the blue submerged in water and burst from ice, the red surrounded by warmth and flames and the black one within a rainstorm as a lightning strike hits it.” She said,

" Seems Lord Akatosh has shown you how to hatch them. But it's not time for them yet, they're not strong enough to hatch yet. Their spirits have not adjusted yet.” He replied as he sat beside the chest and smiled.

She smiled and knelt before the chest and eyed them happily. Chuckling and he said: “Guys this makes us an official family." 

She blushed and looked away and he chuckled harder and began stroking her hair and sighed tiredly. She then asked: “What's wrong?" 

He began to explain everything recent and felt so drained, so worn out as if he had no strength left. Dany stood up and wrapped her arms around him and hugged him. Smiling softly he said: “Thanks… I just need this.”

" How can she even think of…" Tyrael then said: “I do not know… Sansa has always been one to practically see if she acts like a princess in a fairy tale she'll get the fairy tale ending. I've tried to get her out of it, but it seems she inherited the Stark family's stubbornness for something.”

Dany giggled and said: " Like you Mr. I won't rest until I help you?”

He gave a mock hurt look and both giggled and chuckled before she moved to sit between his legs. Dany then asked: “Tyrael, when this is all over, what will you do?" 

“Honestly, I don't know… anything could happen. I am not one to settle down till I feel the need… which I hardly ever get the urge to relax. I'm like a child hopped on sweets in that regard “ he replied causing her to giggle.

He then said: "What about you,ndo you honestly wish to seek the throne. That thing has gotten to be cursed. Everyone who's ever wanted it has always suffered or caused others to suffer.”

She blinked and asked: " What do you mean?”

" I think the throne is actually Cursed by dragons, making it a Dragon Treasure. When a dragon melts down treasure from victory or hordes it, it is magically cursed. Sometimes it brings the thief misfortune, other times death. The throne is made from actual swords of warriors, conquered warriors, thus it's cursed.” Tyrael replied seriously, causing her to pause for a moment.

She had begun reading books that were a gift from her wedding and read about the various rules who say it. Ever since the throne was made, her family has started… no it couldn't, could it… the more she thought about it, the more she honestly thought hard she gasped. The throne may have been the source of all her family's issues. Those who always desired always ended up or became miserable. Silence washed over them till it was time for him to vanish as Dothraki would soon return and he soon found himself back in the royal camp. Just then he saw a note by his bedside, it was from Lydia, opening it he read it and nodded his head. Bran had awakened and mentioned about a strange crow, a three eyed crow. That didn't sit well with him, a three eyed crow , she even noted that many crows seemed to have been roosting in the old tower.

On a ship sailing for King's Landing was Catelyn Stark who was coming to the Capital of Westeros in search of answers and by her side was Remiel. The ship was made from a red wood, but at the front of the ship was a large skeleton of a dragon with a over her head was a large cloth ball of air, a few ship members were going about. The ship was the Dev Aveza, Tyrael’s airship, one of the many who had brought supplies to Winterfell before she departed. At first she was amazed, all of Winterfell was amazed and stunned seeing flying ships with one weight anchor upon the wall and Remiel who came out mentioned the supplies arrived. And supplies it was, a pair of airships had mainly been loaded with coal and oils, another had herbs and trees tonics, another had ores for the smiths as well as horseshoes, nails and other things to run repairs with.

Though the rest had an assortment of foods and fabrics with pelts. Word spread throughout Winterfell about the donation and word would seem which to the lands in the south of the generosity given. A man wearing a long black coat over a white shirt with a red sash around he had reddish brown hair and pale green eyes with darker skin tone to most northerners and wore black pants though he had a strange sword the Lydia recognize it being from the Dragonguard itself as the man wore a pair of blades gauntlets and boots with the shield on his back and a Nordic circlet around his head with an iron wood dagger strapped to his boot. Lydia stepped forward and introduced the man as Rulnick Wind-Strider, who helms the Dev Aveza, Tyrael's ship for him when needed. Rulnik mentioned they couldn't head purely north as a typhoon was blowing through so they had to go around it, thankfully the tail of the storm pushed them ahead of schedule. Catelyn then asked the man if he could take her to King’s Landing south of them, one of the reasons was for the attempt on her son's life, another was because of Sansa… she will be having words with her.

“We should be arriving at King’s Landing within the hour, Lady Stark.” Said Runlik.

She turned away from the rail and forced herself to smile. "Your men have done well by us, Captain. Each one of them shall have a silver stag, as a token of my gratitude.”

" Gratitude does not need Milady, our services are volunteer. Many of the men here were once simple beggars and those who had nothing and mistreated. Thane Tyrael had provided an entire working opportunity as well as helping them get over ailments and provided more than they could ever want.” Said Runlik as she looked to see the man doing their business all seemed to have suffered from limps, deformities and other things. She journeys below deck and sees it was a fully functioning house with a bed, a washroom filled with a stall of tubs, a crew quarter, a small dining area, a chart room, a smithing station, a smelter that also provides heat to remain a float and storage. She was truly amazed and she noticed the hidden floor panel and saw it was empty and Runlik had told her they mostly never used it outside of extra storage for good and important items. Rodrick who was against this saying that ships were only meant to sail not fly like birds caused the crew to laugh and Rulnik said: “You wouldn't last a week thinking like that in Tamriel. Not everyone is as simple as you think. Dangers lurk everyone more than just a wild animal. An the count of rogue drags who refuse to follow there leaders way of peace " 

That freighgenes them, Catelyn had asked how many known dragons there were and Runlik commented that he had seen twenty different evil dragons in Skyrim once. All of them ended up dead by a lineman… Runlik never mentioned who that person was, but he said there were a dozen dragons upon the throat of the world where it was said where mankind originally emerged. Seeing her guard seeming better after showing signs of seasickness, despite them not being in water Runlik said: “It is so fine to see you looking better. I take it the ironwood soup helped?*

“Yes, a strange thing to call a tree." Said Rodrick.

“The wood is called that because it is as strong as iron and as resilient. Thane Tyrael has begun replanting Ironwoods in Eastmarch of Skyrim; they produce fruits as the sap of the tree makes them resistant to fire. His plantations have been growing plentiful saplings to replenish the hold.” Said Rulnik.

"The captain was just telling me that our voyage is almost at an end," she said.

Ser Rodrik managed a wry smile. "So soon?" He looked odd without his great white side whiskers; smaller somehow, less fierce, and ten years older. Yet back on the Bite it had seemed prudent to submit to a crewman's razor, after his whiskers had become hopelessly befouled for the third time while he leaned over the rail and retched into the swirling winds. Catelyn noticed a crew member whispering something and Rulnik shouted: “Prepare the sails, where landing in water before we get too close to the port!" 

Catelyn and Rodrick moved aside as the ship began to slowly descend toward the sea and soon the balloon above was brought down as a massive lone sail emerged from the deck itself and the cloth of the balloon formed the sail as the Dev Aveza formed into a normal sailing ship. She noticed the ship's find had retracted into the haul and two small water wheels had emerged and the smoke stake of the ship began puffing smoke as the ship was going forward. Rulnik then said: “The ship had gone through some changes as it is twice as bigger than what it once was as it was damaged in a very serious battle.”

Catelyn and Rodrick saw the ship was even more grand and she asked: “Who designed it?" 

“Originally it was a gift to Tyrael from the Khajiit aiding them in their homeland. But after the battle most of the ship was damaged and he had it docked and had contacted some friends to help rebuild it, though since it was mostly intact the ship didn't need to be renamed. The very wood used was made from an Eldergleam Tree, one from a sanctuary of the goddess Kyne the Dominion had destroyed but played it off as an accident. The tree was too large to replant and too much danger, Tyrael like man of Kyne’s faith knew the wood was practically undamaged by mostly all weapons save for alloys not of our world. Thus the Dev Aveza had received Kyne's blessing and could guide through storms with relative ease.”

Hearing the ship was practically made from a holy tree was astounding, and Rulnik said: “Many believed Kyne would have struck down the ship for it, but no the ship has never been hit by lightning. Thus they considered it a blessed object and it belonged to Tyrael." 

Just then a crew mate came over and began speaking and he said: " We shall be arriving shortly.”

He turned to leave as he went up to the wheel and took hold and began stirring the ship. Catelyn then said: “We are here, Ser Rodrik, and safe. That is all that truly matters.”

Her hand groped beneath her cloak, her fingers stiff and fumbling. The dagger was still at her side. She found she had to touch it now and then, to reassure herself. "Now we must reach the king's master-at-arms, and pray that he can be trusted. “

"Ser Aron Santagar is a vain man, but an honest one. " Ser Rodrik's hand went to his face to stroke his whiskers and discovered once again that they were gone. He looked nonplussed. "He may know the blade, yes... but, my lady, the moment we go ashore we are at risk. And there are those at court who will know you on sight.”

Catelyn's mouth grew tight. "Littlefinger," she murmured. His face swam up before her; a boy's face, though he was a boy no longer. His father had died several years before, so he was Lord Baelish now, yet still they called him Littlefinger. Her brother Edmure had given him that name, long ago at Riverrun. His family's modest holdings were on the smallest of the Fingers, and Petyr had been slight and short for his age.

Ser Rodrik cleared his throat. "Lord Baelish once, ah …" His thought trailed off in search of the polite word.

Catelyn was a past delicacy. "He was my father's ward. We grew up together in Riverrun. I thought of him as a brother, but his feelings for me were ... more than brotherly. When it was announced that I was to wed Brandon Stark, Petyr challenged for the right to my hand. It was madness. Brandon was twenty, Petyr scarcely fifteen. I had to beg Brandon to spare Petyr's life. He let him off with a scar. Afterward my father sent him away. I have not seen him since. " She lifted her face to the spray, as if the brisk wind could blow the memories away. "He wrote to me at Riverrun after Brandon was killed, but I burned the letter unread. By then I knew that Ned would marry me in his brother's place." 

Ser Rodrik's fingers fumbled once again for nonexistent whiskers. "Littlefinger sits on the small council now.”

"I knew he would rise high," Catelyn said. "He was always clever, even as a boy, but it is one thing to be clever and another to be wise. I wonder what the years have done to him. “

High overhead, the far-eyes sang out from the rigging. Captain Rulnik then scrambled across the deck, giving orders, and all around them the crew who were all secretly former soldiers, mercenaries and farme bands burst into frenetic activity as King's Landing slid into view atop its three tall high heels. Three hundred years ago, Catelyn knew, those heights had been covered with forest, and only a handful of fisherfolk had lived on the north shore of the Blackwater Rush where that deep, swift river flowed into the sea. Then Aegon the Conqueror had sailed from Dragonstone. It was here that his army had put ashore, and there on the highest hill that he built his first crude redoubt of wood and earth. Now the city covered the shore as far as Catelyn could see; menses and arbors and granaries, brick storehouses and timbered inns and merchant's stalls, taverns and graveyards and brothels, all piled one on another. 

She could hear the clamor of the fish market even at this distance. Between the buildings were broad roads lined with trees, wandering crookback streets, and alleys so narrow that two men could not walk abreast. Visenya's hill was crowned by the Great Sept of Baelor with its seven crystal towers. Across the city on the hill of Rhaenys stood the blackened walls of the Dragonpit, its huge dome collapsing into ruin, its bronze doors closed now for a century. The Street of the Sisters ran between them, straight as an arrow. The city walls rose in the distance, high and strong.

A hundred quays lined the waterfront, and the harbor was crowded with ships. Deepwater fishing boats and river runners came and went, ferrymen poled back and forth across the Blackwater Rush, trading galleys unloaded goods from Braavos and Pentos and Lys. Catelyn spied the queen's ornate barge, tied up beside a fat-bellied whaler from the Port of Ibben, its hull black with tar, while upriver a dozen lean golden warships rested in their cribs, sails furled and cruel iron rams lapping at the water. And above it all, frowning down from Aegon's high hill, was the Red Keep; seven huge drum-towers crowned with iron ramparts, an immense grim barbican, vaulted halls and covered bridges, barracks and dungeons and granaries, massive curtain walls studded with archers' nests, all fashioned of pale red stone. Aegon the Conqueror had commanded it to be built. His son Maegor the Cruel had seen it completed. 

Afterward he had taken the heads of every stonemason, woodworker, and builder who had labored on it. Only the blood of the dragon would ever know the secrets of the fortress the Dragonlords had built, he vowed. Yet now the banners that flew from its battlements were golden, not black, and where the three-headed dragon had once breathed fire, now pranced the crowned stag of House Baratheon. The stag, her mind drifted to the Omen, the stag had killed the direwolf mother. A high-masted swan ship from the Summer Isles was beating out from port, its white sails huge with wind. The Dev Aveza glided past it, pulling steadily and smoothly for shore.

“My lady," Ser Rodrik said, "I have thought on how best to proceed while I lay in bed. You must not enter the castle. I will go in your stead and bring Ser Aron to you in some safe place.”

" Fret not ma’am we are remaining docked until your return. The Aveza has all the necessities needed. It would do you well to remain with us in port milady.” Said Runlik.

Rodrick then said: “It would be safer my lady.”

As she looked at the old knight as they drew near to a pier. She then said: “You would be as much at risk as I would.”

Ser Rodrik smiled. "I think not. I looked at my reflection in the water earlier and scarcely recognized myself. My mother was the last person to see me without whiskers, and she is forty years dead. I believe I am safe enough, my lady.*

As the ship soon began to reverse they thumped against the dock, the Tamriel seamen and women leapt down to tie up. Rulnik then said: “King's Landing, my lady, as you did command, and never has a ship made a swifter or surer passage. Will you be resting on the ship till you are finished?”

" Yes, I think it would be best. But you all have done so much.” She said and the man raised his hand and said: " Our commandments of the gods go to all of life ma’am. My crew are loyal and reliable as they are kind.”

The next morning an amount of commotion was heard above deck, Catelyn Stark head throbbed from the yelling as she sat up in the finest silk sleeping gown she had ever worn. Rulnik mentioned Tyrael kept clothing for all races and genders aboard for the crew to give them comfort and show loyalty and kindness. Climbing out of the single bed which she was reluctant to do as it felt like a cloud to her body and the pillows as well. She muttered angrily: “By the gods." 

Grabbing a robe, she covered herself as Rodrick came down the stairs and said: “Lady Stark, a man in a black ringmail and golden cloaks of the City Watch is here to see you.”

"By whose authority?" she said. 

Rodrick pulled out a rolled up paper with a ribbon tying it with a grey wax seal having the mockingbird on it.

“Petyr," she said. So soon.

" Did they know who I am?” She asked him.

" No, m'lady," he said. "M'lord they said Littlefinger said only to bring you to him, and see that you were not mistreated. Rulnik and his crew denied them entry on the ship under international law that they could not board a craft without the proper paperwork and authority.”

Catelyn then said: “Tell them to wait, while I get dressed.”

Rodrick bowed and went back up on deck and related her words. She bathed her hands in the basin and wrapped them in clean linen. Her fingers were thick and awkward as she struggled to lace up her bodice and knot a drab brown cloak about her neck. How could Littlefinger have known she was here? Tyrael once mentioned people one may have once known could have become an unknowing enemy and have spies… then that could have been it. A spy of Petyr’s in Winterfell who sent a raven. 

Exiting as she was properly dressed she had seen a horse for her. The lamps were being lit along the streets as they set out, and Catelyn felt the eyes of the city on her as she rode, surrounded by the guard in their golden cloaks. When they reached the Red Keep, the portcullis was down and the great gates sealed for the night, but the castle windows were alive with flickering lights. The guardsmen left their mounts outside the walls and escorted her through a narrow postern door, then up endless steps to a tower. Ser Rodrick was told to remain behind, and he was reluctant to do so but Rulnik talked him into it.

He was alone in the room, seated at a heavy wooden table, an oil lamp beside him as he wrote. When they ushered her inside, he set down his pen and looked at her. "Cat," he said quietly.

"Why have I been brought here in this fashion?” She asked with a glare.

He rose and gestured brusquely to the guards. "Leave us. " The men departed. "You were not mistreated, I trust," he said after they had gone. "I gave firm instructions. " He noticed her bandages. "Your hands…” he noticed the linen on them from her accidentally cutting her palms with the knife.

Catelyn ignored the implied question. "I am not accustomed to being summoned like a serving wench," she said icily. "As a boy, you still knew the meaning of courtesy." 

" I've angered you, my lady. That was never my intent. " He looked contrite. 

The look brought back vivid memories for Catelyn. He had been a sly child, but after his mischiefs he always looked contrite; it was a gift he had. The years had not changed him much. Petyr had been a small boy, and he had grown into a small man, an inch or two shorter than Catelyn, slender and quick, with the sharp features she remembered and the same laughing grey-green eyes. He had a little pointed chin beard now, and threads of silver in his dark hair, though he was still shy of thirty. They went well with the silver mockingbird that fastened his cloak. Even as a child, he had always loved his silver.

“How did you know I was in the city?" she asked him as she only arrived yesterday.

“Lord Varys knows all," Petyr said with a sly smile. "He will be joining us shortly, but I wanted to see you alone first. It has been too long, Cat. How many years?”

Catelyn ignored his familiarity. There were more important questions. "So it was the King's Spider who found me." 

Littlefinger winced. "You don't want to call him that. He's very sensitive. Comes of being an eunuch, I imagine. Nothing happens in this city without Varys knowing. Oftimes he knows about it before it happens. He has informants everywhere. His little birds, he calls them. One of his little birds heard about your visit from a sailor recognizing you at the docks. Thankfully, Varys came to me first.”

“Why you?" She asked with a hard gaze.

He shrugged. "Why not me? I am master of coin, the king's own councillor. Selmy and Lord Renly rode north to meet Robert, and Lord Stannis is gone to Dragonstone, leaving only Maester Pycelle and me. I was the obvious choice. I was ever a friend to your sister Lysa, Varys knows that.”

"Does Varys know about…" she started but, “Lord Varys knows everything… except why you are here. “

“A wife is allowed to yearn for her husband, and if a mother needs her daughters and son close, who can tell her no?” She replied hardly.

Petyr raised a brow then he asked: “Son? I heard the news from travelers about young Bran from Vayrs, did Robb catch up with your husband?" 

She noticed the tone he said when he mentioned Nedd, being around Tyrael she came to pick up things, about body language and how people show disdain ever so slightly about someone that you may watch out for. She then said: “Me and Nedd adopted a young man who had wormed his way into our family and the hearts of the people of Winterfell." 

“Ah, the mysterious Tyrael Septum. Claims to come from a land beyond our own across the world. We've heard his deeds about aiding the north from raiders, helping farmers in the north have better methods of growing their crops and even the feast of introducing drinks the royal family loved. One even as some say defeated the king." 

Catelyn giggled at the memory seeing the famed slayer of Rhaegar collapse so easily. She then said: “Yes, my daughters even my unofficial daughter Joan adores him as due my sons. He has mentor them and has even helped Arya gotten more use to doing things a woman does as he mentioned he does his own sewing for repairs and to.stitch wounds. He even gotten Sansa to learn self-defense if she was ever in any danger."

This surprised him, he knew Catelyn would usually, no never allow her daughters near such a thing, but for someone to get her to agree to it, was astounding. Littlefinger laughed. "Oh, very good, my lady, but please don't expect me to believe that. I know you too well. What were the Tully words again?”

Her throat was dry. "Family, Duty, Honor," she recited stiffly. He did know her too well.

“Family, Duty, Honor," he echoed. "All of which required you to remain in Winterfell, where our Hand left you. No, my lady, something has happened. This sudden trip of yours bespeaks a certain urgency. I beg of you, let me help. Old sweet friends should never hesitate to rely upon each other. " There was a soft knock on the door. "Enter," Littlefinger called out.

The man who stepped through the door was plump, perfumed, powdered, and as hairless as an egg. He wore a vest of woven gold thread over a loose gown of purple silk, and on his feet were pointed slippers of soft velvet. "Lady Stark," he said, taking her hand in both of his, "to see you again after so many years is such a joy. " His flesh was soft and moist, and his breath smelled of lilacs. "Oh, your poor hands. Have you burned yourself, sweet lady? The fingers are so delicate… Our good Maester Pycelle makes a marvelous salve, shall I send for a jar?”

Catelyn slid her fingers from his grasp. "I thank you, my lord, but my own Maester Luwin has already seen to my hurts." 

Varys bobbed his head. "I was grievous sad to hear about your son. And him so young. The gods were truly with him when he fell, he was certainly blessed.”

"On that we agree, Lord Varys," she said. The title was but a courtesy due him as a council member; Varys was lord of nothing but the spiderweb, the master of none but his whisperers.

The eunuch spread his soft hands. "On more than that, I hope, sweet lady. I have great esteem for your husband, our new Hand, and I know we do both love King Robert." 

"Yes," she was forced to say. "For a certainty. But Petyr you shouldn't need to worry about repaying the north, Tyrael has already seen to it our stocks where replinish even for Winter. Though with how much, it seems it was also meant for a winter with constant storms.”

This surprised the two man and the eunuch said: " Ah, the mystery young man, age fifteen name days… Tyrael Septum. Word has reached me has gain the Lannister family favor by finding their family sword Brightroar. Alongside a colleague though who is on his way home back to their home land suffering from an incurable disease.”

“Lord Baelish tells me that I have you to thank for bringing me here.” She said looking at the half-man.

Varys giggled like a little girl. "Oh, yes. I suppose I am guilty. I hope you forgive me, kind lady. " He eased himself down into a seat and put his hands together. "I wonder if we might trouble you to show us the dagger I see." 

She blinked and she looked down seeing the dagger was visible and she pulled it out and Varys lifted the knife with exaggerated delicacy and ran a thumb along its edge. Blood welled, and he let out a squeal and dropped the dagger back on the table. 

“Careful," Catelyn told him, "it's sharp. “

“Nothing holds an edge like Valyrian steel," Littlefinger said as Varys sucked at his bleeding thumb and looked at Catelyn with sullen admonition. Littlefinger hefted the knife lightly in his hand, testing the grip. He flipped it in the air, caught it again with his other hand. "Such sweet balance. You want to find the owner, is that the reason for this visit? You have no need of Ser Aron for that, my lady. You should have come to me.”

"And if I had," she said, "what would you have told me?”

" I would have told you that there was only one knife like this at King's Landing. " He grasped the blade between thumb and forefinger, drew it back over his shoulder, and threw it across the room with a practiced flick of his wrist. It struck the door and buried itself deep in the oak, quivering. "It's mine. “

" Yours?" It made no sense. Petyr had not been at Winterfell.

"Until the tourney on Prince Joffrey's name day," he said, crossing the room to wrench the dagger from the wood. "I backed Ser Jaime in the jousting, along with half the court. " Petyr's sheepish grin made him look half a boy again. "When Loras Tyrell unhorsed him, many of us became a trifle poorer. Ser Jaime lost a hundred golden dragons, the queen lost an emerald pendant, and I lost my knife. Her Grace got the emerald back, but the winner kept the rest. “

"Who?" Catelyn demanded, her mouth dry with fear. Her fingers ached with remembered pain.

“The Imp," said Littlefinger as Lord Varys watched her face. "Tyrion Lannister." 

Her eyes narrowed knowingly she was lied to. She saw how his pupils acted, a twitch to his body and the way Varys looked at him cautiously like he was threatening the man.

Chapter 14: Into the Landing of Kings/Ursurpers

Summary:

Arriving upon King's landing, a storm is brewing and Tyrael. Is ready. But word is, guest are coming.

Chapter Text

Tyrael eyed a letter he had just received from Kaiden, he had summoned Kaiden along the trip before they officially left Winterfell and sent him to monitor the far northern and assist the night watch. He had once asked Eddard if the Night Watch would accept anyone into it if they didn't worship the seven or the old gods. That actually was something he was unsure of, it was never brought up and it was made clear to truly join the oath to the seven or the old gods. But then he asked if a mercenary could aid the night watch and he said yes, though the watch wouldn't fully trust them until a time. So Kaiden was up there with Benjen monitoring the issue at hand. Benjen was aware of the White Walkers and Tyrael knew what would happen, though Kaiden would be taking Joan’s place if she was male so he didn't have to worry about that, plus his armor was enchanted and the man was one of his most deadliest warriors.

Though he watched as Eddard Stark rode through the towering bronze doors of the Red Keep sore, tired, hungry, and irritable. He was still a horse, dreaming of a long hot soak, a roast fowl, and a featherbed, when the king's steward told him that Grand Maester Pycelle had convened an urgent meeting of the small council. The honor of the Hand's presence was requested as soon as it was convenient. "It will be convenient on the morrow," Ned snapped as he dismounted.

The steward bowed very low. "I shall give the councillors your regrets, my lord.”

"No, damn it," Ned said. It would not offend the council before he had even begun. "I will see them. Pray give me a few moments to change into something more presentable." 

"Yes, my lord," the steward said. "We have given you Lord Arryn's former chambers in the Tower of the Hand, if it pleases you. I shall have your things taken there.”

Tyrael.dismountes beside him and said: “Place smells worse than a sewer." 

Need snorted and said: “You have no idea lad…” he saw Vayon Poole, his own steward, and called out. "It seems the council has urgent needs for me. See that my daughters find their bedchambers, and tell Jory to keep them there. Arya is not to go exploring. " Poole bowed. Ned turned back to the royal steward. "My wagons are still struggling through the city. I shall need appropriate garments." 

Tyrael rolled his shoulder and took out from the saddlebag a satchel bag and a few necessity items and Ned asked: “Has Sansa and you talked?" 

“No, Arya is still a mess about the issue and I don't blame her, it's the old sibling's job to protect the young. Sansa broke your wife's family motto and the pack’s motto she committed sins on both fronts of the family." Said Tyrael as he adjusted his sword.

"Will you accompany me to the council chamber, Joan is busy helping the girls as the two of you will be sharing a room.” Said Ned.

" I don't mind.” Said Tyrael as he then said: " Might have to change into my professional armor.”

And later, Ned had come striding into the council chambers, bone-tired and dressed in borrowed clothing, to find four members of the small council waiting for him. With Tyrael garbed in the Imperial Dragon Armor with the cloak fluttering behind him. With the shield on his back and Dragon’s Oath in another. The armor caused the consuel members to become intimidated. But the armor was foreign and deduced who this was, Tyrael Septum, the adopted son of Nedd Stark. As the council chamber was richly furnished. 

Myrish carpets covered the floor instead of rushes, and in one corner a hundred fabulous beasts cavorted in bright paints on a carved screen from the Summer Isles. The walls were hung with tapestries from Norvos and Qohor and Lys, and a pair of Valyrian sphinxes flanked the door, eyes of polished garnet smoldering in black marble faces. The councillor Ned liked least, the eunuch Varys, accosted him the moment he entered. "Lord Stark, I was grievously sad to hear about your troubles on the kingsroad. We have all been visiting the sept to light candles for Prince Joffrey. I pray for his recovery. But with you, it would not happen to be Serious Septum would it?" His hand left powder stains on Ned's sleeve, and he smelled as foul and sweet as flowers on a grave.

"Your gods have heard you," Ned replied, cool yet polite. "The prince grows stronger every day. " He disentangled himself from the eunuch's grip and crossed the room to where Lord Renly stood by the screen, talking quietly with a short man who could only be Littlefinger. Renly had been a boy of eight when Robert won the throne, but he had grown into a man so like his brother that Ned found it disconcerting. Whenever he saw him, it was as if the years had slipped away and Robert stood before him, fresh from his victory on the Trident. Thus ned said: “And yes, this is my adoptive son, Tyrael Septum, a knight of his homeland of the Imperial Dragons." 

The council chamber all winced hearing this. But the council shook it off.

"I see you have arrived safely, Lord Stark," Renly said.

"And you as well," Ned replied. "You must forgive me, but sometimes you look at the very image of your brother Robert. “

“A poor copy," Renly said with a shrug.

"Though much better dressed," Littlefinger quipped. "Lord Renly spends more on clothing than half the ladies of the court. “

Tyrael snorted and as it was true enough. Lord Renly was in dark green velvet, with a dozen golden stags embroidered on his doublet. A cloth-of-gold half cape was draped casually across one shoulder, fastened with an emerald brooch. "There are worse crimes," Renly said with a laugh. "The way you dress, for one." 

“Eating white while eating. You always stain it no matter how hard you try not to." Said Tyrael.

Littlefinger ignored the jibe. He eyed Ned with a smile on his lips that bordered on insolence. "I have hoped to meet you for some years, Lord Stark. No doubt Lady Catelyn has mentioned me to you.”

"She has," Ned replied with a chill in his voice. The sly arrogance of the comment rankled him. "I understand you knew my brother Brandon as well." 

Renly Baratheon laughed. Varys shuffled over to listen.

“Rather too well," Littlefinger said. "I still carry a token of his esteem. Did Brandon speak of me too?”

"Often, and with some heat," Ned said, hoping that would end it. He had no patience with this game they played, this dueling with words.

“Though mother did mention once or twice to try and rekindle your friendship with her." Said Tyrael honestly.

Petyr smiled at that but then, "I should have thought that heat ill suits you Starks," Littlefinger said. "Here in the south, they say you are all made of ice, and melt when you ride below the Neck." 

" I do not plan on melting soon, Lord Baelish. You may count on it.” Ned moved to the council table and said, "Maester Pycelle, I trust you are well.”

The Grand Maester smiled gently from his tall chair at the foot of the table. "Well enough for a man of my years, my lord," he replied, "yet I do tire easily, I fear. " Wispy strands of white hair fringed the broad bald dome of his forehead above a kindly face. His maester's collar was no simple metal choker such as Luwin wore, but two dozen heavy chains wound together into a ponderous metal necklace that covered him from throat to breast. The links were forged of every metal known to man: black iron and red gold, bright copper and dull lead, steel and tin and pale silver, brass and bronze and platinum. Garnets and amethysts and black pearls adorned the metalwork, and here and there an emerald or ruby. "Perhaps we might begin soon," the Grand Maester said, hands knitting together atop his broad stomach. "I fear I shall fall asleep if we wait much longer.

“As you will. " The king's seat sat empty at the head of the table, the crowned stag of Baratheon embroidered in gold thread on its pillows. Ned took the chair beside it, as the right hand of his king. "My lords," he said formally, "I am sorry to have kept you waiting." 

"You are the King's Hand," Varys said. "We serve at your pleasure, Lord Stark." 

As the others took their accustomed seats, it struck Eddard Stark forcefully that he did not belong here, in this room, with these men. He remembered what Robert had told him in the crypts below Winterfell. I am surrounded by flatterers and fools, the king had insisted. Ned looked down the council table and wondered which were the flatterers and which the fools. He thought he knew already. "We are but five," he pointed out.

Tyrael stood behind Ned Stark and the entire council felt like a predator as in the room watching them. 

"Lord Stannis took himself to Dragonstone not long after the king went north," Varys said, "and our gallant Ser Barristan no doubt rides beside the king as he makes his way through the city, as befits the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard." 

"Perhaps we had best wait for Ser Barristan and the king to join us," Ned suggested.

Renly Baratheon laughed aloud. "If we wait for my brother to grace us with his royal presence, it could be a long wait.”

“Our good King Robert has many cares," Varys said. "He entrusts some small matters to us, to lighten his load.

“What Lord Varys means is that all this business of coin and crops and justice bores my royal brother to tears," Lord Renly said, "so it falls to us to govern the realm. He does send us a command from time to time. " He drew a tightly rolled paper from his sleeve and laid it on the table. "This morning he commanded me to ride ahead with all haste and ask Grand Maester Pycelle to convene this council at once. He has an urgent task for us.”

Littlefinger smiled and handed the paper to Ned. It bore the royal seal. Ned broke the wax with his thumb and flattened the letter to consider the king's urgent command, reading the words with mounting disbelief. Was there no end to Robert's folly? And to do this in his name, that was salt in the wound. "Gods be good," he swore.

"What Lord Eddard means to say," Lord Renly announced, "is that His Grace instructs us to stage a great tournament in honor of his appointment as the Hand of the King." 

"How much?" asked Littlefinger, mildly.

Ned read the answer off the letter. "Forty thousand golden dragons to the champion. Twenty thousand to the man who comes second, another twenty to the winner of the melee, and ten thousand to the victor of the archery competition. “

"Ninety thousand gold pieces," Littlefinger sighed. "And we must not neglect the other costs. Robert will want a prodigious feast. That means cooks, carpenters, serving girls, singers, jugglers, fools …”

“How long would the tourney need time to prepare?" Asked Tyrael.

" A month, fools we have in plenty," Lord Renly said.

Grand Maester Pycelle looked to Littlefinger and asked, "Will the treasury bear the expense?”

" I could assist in payment for the entertainment. I have treasure though I mostly have gems, especially a few black and pink diamonds.” Said Tyrael as he pulled one out and Renly rushed to examine it and pulled out a small lens and said: " It's real, and it is the size of my finger and is epically shaped with barely any if not any flaws, this is worth fifty thousand dragons. Why do you have this?”

" Treasure hunting in my home land. Also I do mine for ores sometimes myself." 

He pulled out a what could be desired as a giant size pouch that was half the size of a saddle bag and tossed it onto the table and spilling from it was plentiful and Renly examined them carefully before writing down and he soon dropped the quill in shock and showed the pricing and the man said: “Young man this is more than enough, we can't possibly take all of this " 

“Then accept it as a donation to the crown, word is known how the King is… ignorant with spending.” Said Tyrael as Renly said: " On that we agree young man. We have more than enough for the tourney and pay off the King's debt.”

The council went deathly silent and Varys asked: "Say what now, you can't mean the Kingdom will be.”

"They're seventy like the one he showed me, and the rest of the black diamonds are half that size being a hundred. With Two hundred Pink diamonds which are worth fifteen thousand dragons in their state. We have nine million dragons here gentleman.” Said Littlefinger as he eyed the paper as the council looked to Tyrael.

He raised his hand and said: “You owe me nothing, to aid others is one of my homeland god's commandments.”

Tyrael smirked behind his helmet, none had any idea he had another bag like that stored away. This was considered pocket change to him, he accumulated more wealth than anything. The Septum coin has lasted for years and the mines of Tamriel have been known to revitalize their minerals over time as the aether replenishes them over time according to mages, but no one asks. Plus he had a certain artifact in his treasury that practically spits out money and his lucky coin he held has allowed him to find treasure, even lost treasure and riches making him more wealth then most nobles back home as consider to the lands here, noble hew might as well be newly acquired aristocrats. Petyr then said: “With ninety thousand for the prize and ten thousand for everything else, meaning what is left for the crown after the debt is four million and nine hundred hundred thousand left. With the royal coffers only being half of that meaning the kingdom may just be out of financial issues.”

“Are you claiming the crown is in that much financial trouble?" Asked Ned.

“Yes, if it wasn't for us discovering a hidden chamber of riches in the treasure room the Kingdom would have gotten worse in debt. Possibly six million. Thankfully it only reached four million. That secret vault we discovered was buried underneath rubble, most like a plot by the mad king to make sure the Kingdom would destroy itself financially. A servant uncovered it while cleaning the room and noticed the wall was crumbling and when investigating they saw a nearly collapsed staircase to the whole new room. Unknown how that treasure.was there, perhaps a former king foresaw one day the Kingdom would need more money.” Said the spider.

“Seven million three hundred and fifty thousand in the Treasury now. Father, I think you might help the King with his spending habits. Though I might suggest funding away to help with the sewage system of the city before it causes a massive outbreak of diseases." Said Tyrael.

“Believe me young man, we've tried and the damage is done." Renly and Tyrael then said: “Surely there must be a way, why not have prisoners go down as a workforce to reduce sentences." 

This caused everyone to pause and Petyr asked: “What are you getting at young man?" 

“For prisoners of lesser crimes, let them work off their sentence by doing work such as working the fields, cleaning the streets and other tasks. Have them gain work experience so instead of being criminals they can find jobs and work honestly." Said Tyrael.

Though outside wagons and riders were still pouring through the castle gates, and the yard was a chaos of mud and horseflesh and shouting men. The king had not yet arrived, he was told. Since the ugliness on the Trident, the Starks and their household had ridden well ahead of the main column, the better to separate themselves from the Lannisters and the growing tension. Robert had hardly been seen; the talk was he was traveling in the huge wheelhouse, drunk as often as not. If so, he might be hours behind, but he would still be here too soon for Ned's liking. He had only to look at Sansa's face to feel the rage twisting inside him once again. 

The last fortnight of their journey had been a misery. Arya was lost after she heard what had happened to her friend, the butcher's boy and she blamed Sansa. If not for Tyrael then… he clenched his fist and looked toward his new son, the boy was a blessing. The council was highly convicted considering the idea, workforce they could use and not pay except for shortened sentences. As they crossed the outer yard, passed under a portcullis into the inner bailey, and were walking toward what he thought was the Tower of the Hand when Littlefinger appeared in front of him. "You're going the wrong way, Stark. Come with me. “

Tyrael patted his father's shoulder and said: “I'll check on the girls." 

He walked away and passed by the golden cloaks who looked at him. Word spread of him in that armor, though many were offended by the emblem, but destroying it was an act of war. As Petyr led Need to Catelyn Tyrael.wondeted the halls and found Arya in the training yard practicing with her sword and he took his helmet off and asked: “You okay?" 

She grunted in response and he sighed before saying: “Insee, look I know you're mad at your sister, hell so am I. I'm furious with her, but remember she is still your sister. The more you hate her, the more you love her Arya.”

"She should have spoken up, we're her god damn family, her pack and she ignored us.” Said Arya on the verge of tears.

Tyrael wrapped his arms around her and said: "Maybe so, but you should at least voice how you feel to her. One day you may regret this and blame yourself for not trying.”

She stopped and turned around to hug him and he kissed the top of her forehead and she sheathed her blade and he began to escorting her to the corridor where they were staying that was close to the Hand’s tower. They saw Joan and Sansa coming around a corner and both parties froze and Arya said: “Hey…” Sansa replied stiffly: " Hello sister… love the lovely weather we're having." 

“Yes, Sansa, can we talk please? About what happened." Asked Arya.

Sansa froze and nodded and opened a door and motioned her inside. The door closed and Tyrael stood on one side and Joan on the other and he noticed she wore clothing fit for a warmer climate and no pants as her legs showed stockings. The two crossed their arms and Joan asked: “So that's your Knight Armor, the color scheme is similar to the Targaryen’s." 

“Bah, the emblems are different. But Sansa wanted to see Arya, didn't she?" Asked Tyrael.

Joan nodded her head and said: “Yeah, where's father?" 

“With my mother's old friend. I don't trust that man. He is radiating hatred for the pack. Most likely still obsessed with Mom and desires her and would make sure we all died but not want to dirty his hands." Said Tyrael.

Joan nodded and said: “It feels… odd being here.”

Tyrael nodded and said: " Yes, though we have to watch what we speak about. The Spider has eyes and ears everywhere.”

Joan nodded and Tyrael opened the door to see the girls hugging and he smiled before stepping inside: "Good, now. That is to settle, be careful of who you trust Sansa. Joffrey is as much of a lion as he is a stag. He may portray himself as a graceful and noble creature but he is a hunter.”

Sansa nodded and said: “I know, I nearly… I… I'm sorry Tyrael. I should have listened to you better. You were right, I had too much faith in fairy tales then reality.*

“Now you know, do it again and your arse has a date with my hand." He said sternly, crossing his arms.

That night the Stark family had gathered in the office of Ned Stark with Tyrael placing a privacy rune on the door to make sure no one would spy on them. Need saw his children and said seeing his daughters finally made up he felt a weight lifted and said: " Good, as you are all aware, Bran was nearly assassinated some moons ago and Tyrael’s aid for Winterfell.arrived bringing much needed supplies. The moth is secured for the worst of the worst. Bug Benjen sent me a raven about Kaiden who has been welcomed, though he could not take the oath, but he was welcomed by the Commander as a man at arms who is giving even his most senior watchman a run for their money.”

Tyrael laughed and said: " Kaiden was practically born on the battlefield, he doesn't take nonsense lying down. I've also asked him to keep eyes and ears out for our pale walking friends.”

Nedd nodded and said: " Yes, even Benjen believes they may be sighted from reports. Though some of the watchmen play it off as the Wildlings.”

“I have also heard my ship set sail back to Winterfell and would be sailing back home." Said Tyrael.

“Aye, your ship's crew has been nothing but a great assistance to Tyrael. Catelyn had nothing but praise for them." Said Ned.

“Rulnik was a former Imperial Navy officer before losing hearing in one ear and was discharged. I was able to heal most of the damage after I cured an illness he was afflicted with, ever since then he's been my helmsman, but I let him run my ship and act as my Steward for my plantation." Said Tyrael.

“Father, why couldn't mother come see us?" Asked Sansa.

“Petyr, Sansa… the man was trying to have her believe Tyrion Lannister is the one responsible for the attempt on Bran." Said Ned causing Joan and Tyrael to snort in disagreement.

“As if, that man has more honor than Jaime Lannister pinky toe. He may be a dwarf, but he is honest and is not ashamed about what he is. He wears it proudly and doesn't deny the truth.” Said Tyrael with Joan nodding.

Some time had passed and Nedd had been fighting with the council again. Arya could see it on his face when he came to the table, late again, as he had been so often. The first course, a thick sweet soup made with pumpkins, had already been taken away when Ned Stark strode into the Small Hall. They called it that to set it apart from the Great Hall, where the king could feast a thousand, but it was a long room with a high vaulted ceiling and bench space for two hundred at its trestle tables. Tyrael sat with the Hand's household.with him and Joan playing footsies.

"My lord," Jory said when Father entered. He rose to his feet, and the rest of the guard rose with him. Each man wore a new cloak, heavy grey wool with a white satin border. A hand of beaten silver clutched the woolen folds of each cloak and marked their wearers as men of the Hand's household guard. There were only fifty of them, so most of the benches were empty.

“Be seated," Eddard Stark said. "I see you have started without me. I am pleased to know there are still some men of sense in this city. " He signaled for the meal to resume. The servants began bringing out platters of ribs, roasted in a crust of garlic and herbs.

Though Tyrael brought out a small glass bottle and poured some sauce onto his ribs he took and ate them. He called it a.condiment, a sauce of sorts to put on food, though it was not for all kinds of food. This was often used for beef, pork and chicken and even venison.

“The talk in the yard is we shall have a tourney, my lord," Jory said as he resumed his seat. "They say that knights will come from all over the realm to joust and feast in honor of your appointment as Hand of the King.”

" Aye, some of the cloaks talked about it in passing. Though they mocked Arya and Sansa, some of them found it unwise to provoke a woman's scorn.”

Many married men all snorted at that. Arya could see that her father was not very happy about that. "Do they also say this is the last thing in the world I would have wished for? Though thankfully, from a Benefactor the tourney will not affect the royal treasure but we'll give it a boon. Petyr had taken the donation to the bank, a large bag of gems with an escort alongside Tyrael to make sure they arrived safely. And for some reason the bank gave a boon worth three million putting the treasure in strong levels.”

Ned and the Stark family eyes Tyrael.as he ate looking purely innocent with his eyes close hiding mirth in them.

Sansa's eyes had grown wide as the plates. "A tourney," she breathed. She was seated between Septa Mordane and Jeyne Poole, as far from Arya as she could get without drawing a reproach from Father. "Will we be permitted to go, Father?”

" You know my feelings, Sansa. It seems I must arrange Robert's games and pretend to be honored for his sake. That does not mean I must subject my daughters to this folly. “ Said Ned.

Tyrael remained silent as his foot pressed against Joan’s maidenhood and she twitched as she felt his bare big toe probing her folds and his smaller toes fiddle with her clitoris.

"Oh, please," Sansa said. "I want to see." 

Septa Mordane spoke up. "Princess Myrcella will be there, my lord, and she is younger than Lady Sansa. All the ladies of the court will be expected at a grand event like this, and as the tourney is in your honor, it would look queer if your family did not attend.”

Father looked pained. "I suppose so. Very well, I shall arrange a place for you, Sansa. " He saw Arya. "For both of you." 

"I don't care about their stupid tourney," Arya said. She knew Prince Joffrey would be there, and she hated Prince Joffrey.

" You should go to Arya, not every warrior will fight the same way. Think of it as a lesson, scope, outfit weakness in one's defenses and how they fight.” Said Tyrael as he ate some cut potatoes.

Just then from a window a large hawk came flying in. It was a beautiful creature. It had a small harness with the emblem of the Legion. Eyes widened to unclasp the cylinder on the harness and took out the continent before giving a piece of chicken to the hawk and began reading the contents. 

Nedd asked: “What's wrong son?" 

“I've just been given orders… " said Tyrael causing everyone to pause he then said: “I am to act as a bodyguard while his Imperial Majesty arrives to these lands three days before the tourney." 

Everyone in the room began either choking on air or food. The Emperor.of Tamriel, coming… that was… that was news. Septa then asked: “How will they…” Tyrael then drew an airship in his food and they all understood what he meant and he ate it before saying: " The Emperor is also being accompanied by Skyrim’s High Queen Elisif the Fair, his advisor, his cousin, my former commanding officer, Regent Tullius alongside the Penitus Oculatus. Well that's nice… hmm, seems… that's not good.”

Arya then asked: " What is?”

"OH, nothing really just him wanting to talk to me about the personal royal ship The Katariah. Named after Empress Katariah, consort to Emperor Pelagius the Mad, who unfortunately was tormented growing up by his aunt who practically raised him and Morito fed him to barely grasp his sanity as some say. She ruled for forty-six years as she was popular with all citizens and was succeeded by her son Cassynder. It was named in her honor with the front piece resembling her greatly.” Said Tyrael.

" Guess we should notify the King then.” Said Ned

" Aye, though I can't wait to see their faces when they see the ship.” Said Tyrael, smirking.

" How many vessels?” Asked Jeyne.

" Ten, all heavily armed with cannons. Special metal tubs that fire heavy metal balls faster than a hose that can tear through woods and in some cases stone and ripe metal away from the speed they travel.” Said Tyrael.

Later in the King's personal office the King was told the news and he was surprised to hear this. His wife beside them was also surprised. If such a thing was possible perhaps trade was possible. Robert laughed and said: “So, we will meet your so-called Emperor Lad." 

“Yes your majesty, though I advise you to be highly clear headed. The Emperor's advisor can even get the most stone minded man to reveal their secrets with a few words.” Said Tyrael.

The King nodded and said: “What of his cousin?" 

“Victoria Vicci, she is an overseer of the East Empire Company… she practically runs the entire shipping industry and has much pull within grade because she is having a nest, cut throat business woman.” Said Tyrael.

Later that night Tyrael read the message once more, before he whispered: “Sonaofbitch… fucking hell.”

His mind drifted back to his Valkyrie of northern Cyrodiil. Clenching his fist he sighed and he heard: " Seems you have issues… my child." 

Turning he saw the avatar of Talos Wulf… he kneeled and said: “My emperor, why are you here, wouldn't the gods of these lands be…” the man raised a hand and said: " No, for they hold no true power child.”

He released a breath of relief and the man then tossed him something, catching it before it hit the ground before him he said: “Another lucky coin?*

"Consider it a new one, I saw what you did with your other one… I am glad you gave it up to help someone. Lord Akatosh and Kyne have blessed her, no harm shall befall her.” Said Wulf.

Tyrael remained silent and Talos said: " Rise my grandson…" Tyrael stood and felt the man place his hands on him and the man said: “You are truly worthy of your lineage. Be strong and be brave… and remember to have hope.”

Tyrael Septim, true name Tyrael Septum the first. Son of Bendu Olo, descendant of the Hero of Kvatch and Ariella Septim and Kalin the forgotten hero, descendant of Juliek Cyrodiil grandson of Reman Cyrodiil. He was twice the true dragon blood. The LAST of two great lines in the world and the LAST blood descendant of Alessia and Miraak the first male and first female dragonborns. Thus making him far more powerful just then a knock was heard and he asked: “Who is it?" 

“It's Ser Septum." Came the voice of Myrcella Baratheon.

Going to the door he pulled it open and saw the princess without her Jews and accessories in a simple green silk night dress and he motioned for the young woman who was only eleven. Bowing he asked: “What is it you need your highness?”

" I have come to ask you to court me.” She said and he blinked one, twice, three times and then asked the only sensible question any sane man would ask: " Huh?”

"The Dothraki sea," Ser Jorah Mormont said as he reigned to a halt beside her on the top of the ridge. beneath them, the plain stretched out immense and empty, a vast flat expanse that reached to the distant horizon and beyond. It was a sea, Dany thought. Past here, there were no hills, no mountains, no trees nor cities nor roads, only the endless grasses, the tall blades rippling like waves when the winds blew. "It's so green," she said.

“Here and now," Ser Jorah agreed. "You ought to see it when it blooms, all dark red flowers from horizon to horizon, like a sea of blood. Come the dry season, and the world turns the color of old bronze. And this is only hranna, child. There are a hundred kinds of grass out there, grasses as yellow as lemon and as dark as indigo, blue grasses and orange grasses and grasses like rainbows. Down in the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai, they say there are oceans of ghost grass, taller than a man on horseback with stalks as pale as milk glass. It murders all other grass and glows in the dark with the spirits of the damned. The Dothraki claim that someday ghost grass will cover the entire world, and then all life will end”

That thought gave Dany the shivers. "I don't want to talk about that now," she said. "It's so beautiful here, I don't want to think about everything dying

That thought gave Dany the shivers. "I don't want to talk about that now," she said. "It's so beautiful here, I don't want to think about everything dying.”

But then her mind drifted to her beloved dragon across the waters in Westeros, did he ever fear death?

"As you will, Khaleesi," Ser Jorah said respectfully.

She heard the sound of voices and turned to look behind her. She and Mormont had outdistanced the rest of their party, and now the others were climbing the ridge below them. Her handmaid Irri and the young archers of her khas were fluid as centaurs, but Viserys still struggled with the short stirrups and the flat saddle. Her brother was miserable out here. He ought never have come. Magister Illyrio had urged him to wait in Pentos, had offered him the hospitality of his manse, but Viserys would have none of it. 

He would stay with Drogo until the debt had been paid, until he had the crown he had been promised. "And if he tries to cheat me, he will learn to his sorrow what it means to wake the dragon," Viserys had vowed, laying a hand on his borrowed sword. Illyrio had blinked at that and wished him good fortune. Dany realized that she did not want to listen to any of her brother's complaints right now. The day was too perfect. The sky was a deep blue, and high above them a hunting hawk circled. The grass sea swayed and sighed with each breath of wind, the air was warm on her face, and Dany felt at peace. 

She would not let Viserys spoil it, or the presence of happiness her beloved gave her. 

"Wait here," Dany told Ser Jorah. "Tell them all to stay. Tell them I command it." 

The knight smiled. Ser Jorah was not a handsome man. He had a neck and shoulders like a bull, and coarse black hair covered his arms and chest so thickly that there was none left for his head. Yet his smiles gave Dany comfort. "You are learning to talk like a queen, Daenerys.”

"Not a queen," said Dany. "A khaleesi. " She wheeled her horse about and galloped down the ridge alone.

Then she thought: ‘And maybe one day… an Empress.’

The descent was steep and rocky, but Dany rode fearlessly, and the joy and the danger of it were a song in her heart. All her life Viserys had told her she was a princess, but not until she rode her silver had Daenerys Targaryen ever felt like one. At first it had not come easy. The khalasar had broken camp the morning after her wedding, moving east toward Vaes Dothrak, and by the third day Dany thought she was going to die. Saddle sores opened on her bottom, hideous and bloody. Her thighs were chafed raw, her hands blistered from the reins, the muscles of her legs and back so wracked with pain that she could scarcely sit. By the time dusk fell, her handmaids would need to help her down from her mount.

Thankfully, the dragon used magic to heal the injury but the pain was almost gone. Even the nights brought her peace, every night she'd find herself talking and being protected by Tyrael and they chatted. He talked about his ventures before returning to his homeland in Skyrim and she couldn't help but laugh. She was glad Drogo ignored her when they rode, even as he had ignored her during their wedding, and spent his evenings drinking with his warriors and bloodriders, racing his prize horses, watching women dance and men die. Dany had no place in these parts of his life and she did not desire any. Yet every night, some time before dawn, Drogo would come to her tent and wake her in the dark, to ride her as relentlessly as he rode his stallion.

She had learned that the Dothraki would take their woman from behind, or as Tyrael said it was called doggy style since the positioning reminded anyone of two dogs. Though he mentioned there were other positions of similar themes from frog where both are crouching, and horse. Though the way he described it she wondered why the Dothraki never used it. Though her mind drifted to when she had not met her dragon, she would have surely killed herself. Though when she slept that one night, she dreamt the dragon dream again. Viserys was not in it this time. 

There was only her and the dragon. Its scales were as red as scarlet, that glittered like gems, and yet it had blood, her blood. Its eyes were pools of molten gold. A roar was heard and a dragon made of pure ice scared and danced happily, above it was a dragon made of a pure thunderstorm who sat upon a cloud watching them with eyes of a protector. She had looked to the dragon who opened its mouth, as the flame came roaring out in a hot jet. She could hear it singing to her. She opened her arms to the fire, embraced it, let it swallow her whole, let it cleanse her and temper her and scour her clean. 

She could feel her flesh sear and blacken and slough away, could feel her blood boil and turn to steam, and yet there was no pain. She felt strong and new and fierce. And yet the lightning struck and she felt fierce and yet again peace, balance. She had told Tyrael of the dream and he told her the dragons each represent him, Joan and Dany like before the ice dragon was dancing in the sky as it was free and happy, the fire dragon breathing upon her must have represented her burning away her doubts and insecurities and the lightning dragon was him and the strike must've been to help her not lose herself. Onward as she rode, each day was easier than the one before it. Her legs grew stronger; her blisters burst and her hands grew callused; her soft thighs toughened, supple as leather.

The khal had commanded the handmaid Irri to teach Dany to ride in the Dothraki fashion, but it was the filly who was her real teacher. The horse seemed to know her moods, as if they shared a single mind. With every passing day, Dany felt surer in her seat. The Dothraki were a hard and unsentimental people, and it was not their custom to name their animals, so Dany thought of her only as the silver. She had never loved anything so much.

As the riding became less an ordeal, Dany began to notice the beauties of the land around her. She rode at the head of the khalasar with Drogo and his bloodriders, so she came to each country fresh and unspoiled. Behind them the great horde might tear the earth and muddy the rivers and send up clouds of choking dust, but the fields ahead of them were always green and verdant. Tyrael mentioned Tamriel has many beautiful sceneries in various provinces, though some could only be seen by certain times of the day. As they crossed the rolling hills of Norvos, past terraced farms and small villages where the townsfolk watched anxiously from atop white stucco walls. They forded three wide placid rivers and a fourth that was swift and narrow and treacherous, camped beside a high blue waterfall, skirted the tumbled ruins of a vast dead city where ghosts were said to moan among blackened marble columns.

They raced down Valyrian roads a thousand years old and straight as a Dothraki arrow. For half a moon, they rode through the Forest of Qohor, where the leaves made a golden canopy high above them, and the trunks of the trees were as wide as city gates. There were great elk in that wood, and spotted tigers, and lemurs with silver fur and huge purple eyes, but all fled before the approach of the khalasar and Dany got no glimpse of them. Though Tyrael mentioned the tigers were actual Leopards, who are cousins to tigers but have spots to camouflage themselves to hide from prey while hunting. Though they noticed the animals seem to be the only ones who actually noticed him. But by then her agony was a fading memory. She still aches after a long day's riding, yet somehow the pain had a sweetness to it now, and each morning she came willingly to her saddle, eager to know what wonders waited for her in the lands ahead. 

She began to find pleasure even in her nights, as she had Irri for that when Drogo would go out on night rides. Though Tyrael caught her once and she was a mess of embarrassment after her climax. He chuckled and stroked her hair and said she needed the relief and he was fine, but he'd be the one to truly claim her. She had shuddered and had a more intense orgasm than then Irri could provide. She giggled like a young girl being told a joke as she sighed blissfully. Though her dragon, standing in a star as a pair of children with pale golden hair almost like platinum, came running to him as they turned to her and smiled. She whispered: “One day." 

Reaching the bottom of the ridge, the grasses rose around her, tall and supple. Dany slowed to a trot and rode out onto the plain, losing herself in the green, blessedly alone. In the khalasar she was never alone. Khal Drogo came to her only after the sun went down, but her handmaids fed her and bathed her, pleasured her when she asked and slept by the door of her tent, Drogo's bloodriders and the men of her khas were never far, and her brother was an unwelcome shadow, day and night. Dany could hear him on the top of the ridge, his voice shrill with anger as he shouted at Ser Jorah. She rode on, submerging herself deeper in the Dothraki sea. Tyrael joined her though the grass went through him as if he was a ghost and he wrapped his arms around her and said: “Would be better in a wheat field in autumn.”

He told her autumn for the harvesting season was always before winter and after summer, though spring when farmers always plant new crops and let things grow was after winter and before summer. In autumn the leaves change colors to red, orange and yellow and in spring everything blooms. He told her the Rift in Skyrim was always purely autumn all year round and it was a beautiful scenery. As the green swallowed them up, the air was rich with the scents of earth and grass, mixed with the smell of horseflesh and Dany's sweat and the oil in her hair. Dothraki smells. They seemed to belong here. Dany breathed it all in, laughing. She had a sudden urge to feel the ground beneath her, to curl her toes in that thick black soil. Swinging down from her saddle, she let the silver graze while she pulled off her high boots. 

But yet the scent of rain lingered, she knew that Tyrael was near and when she mentioned it as well, a scent that could only be described as home, she knew he was with her. Viserys came upon her as sudden as a summer storm, his horse rearing beneath him as he reined up too hard. "You dare!" he screamed at her. "You give commands to me? To me?" He vaulted off the horse, stumbling as he landed. His face was flushed as he struggled back to his feet. He grabbed her, shook her. "Have you forgotten who you are? Look at you. Look at you!”

Part of her wanted to lash out and strike him, but… she didn't need to look. She was barefoot, with oiled hair, wearing Dothraki riding leathers and a painted vest given her as a bride gift. She looked as though she belonged here. Viserys was soiled and stained in city silks and ringmail. “You do not command the dragon. Do you understand? I am the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, I will not hear orders from some horse lord's slut, do you hear me?" His hand went under her vest, his fingers digging painfully into her breast. "Do you hear me?”

She shoved him away, hard. And Viserys then felt an ominous feeling, as did the horses around them as they backed peddled. The Dothraki looked around and soon saw a storm on the horizon, though where it was going they were not sure. Just then Dany stroked Tyrael’s arms without anyone noticing and he paused and the storm on the horizon moved away. Viserys stared at her, his lilac eyes incredulous. She had never defied him. Never fought back. Rage twisted his features. He would hurt her now, and badly, she knew that, but she didn't care.

But then the sound of whip crack was heard and Viserys yanked him backwards. Viserys held the whip trying to pry it and Tyrael was laughing at him and commenting that she reminded him of a pig wallowing in the mud. The Dothraki riders hooted at him as he struggled to free himself. The one with the whip, young Jhogo, asked a question. Dany did not understand his words, but by then Irri was there, and Ser Jorah, and the rest of her khas. "Jhogo asks if you would have him dead, Khaleesi, " Irri said.

"No," Dany replied. "No.”

Jhogo understood that. One of the others barked out a comment, and the Dothraki laughed. Irri told her, "Quaro thinks you should take an ear to teach him respect. “

“I’d say have him strung up like a paper doll and beaten with sticks for a while." Said Tyrael.

Her brother was on his knees, his fingers digging under the leather coils, crying incoherently, struggling for breath. The whip was tight around his windpipe.

“Tell them I do not wish him harm, " Dany said before whispering the rest to Irri who looked surprised and then she spoke back in Dothraki and the riders cheered and soon Viserys was being dragged through the grass.

Tyrael slapped his knees in laughter as Dany giggled, thankfully Tyrael said he'd repair her brother's clothes and wipe the incident from everyone's memories.

"I warned him what would happen, my lady," Ser Jorah Mormont said. "I told him to stay on the ridge, as you commanded." 

"I know you did," Dany replied, watching Viserys even Jorah saw this with amusement.

Once it was over, "Take his horse," Dany commanded Ser Jorah. Viserys gaped at her. He could not believe what he was hearing; nor could Dany quite believe what she was saying. Yet the words came. "Let my brother walk behind us back to the khalasar. " Among the Dothraki, the man who did not ride was no man at all, the lowest of the low, without honor or pride. "Let everyone see him as he is." 

Tyrael cheered, happily as, " No!" Viserys screamed. He turned to Ser Jorah, pleading in the Common Tongue with words the horsemen would not understand. "Hit her, Mormont. Hurt her. Your king commands it. Kill these Dothraki dogs and teach her.”

Tyrael turned and said: “Take a look Dany, though eyes…” she did and she saw it… the eyes of a mad dog, eyes she was shuddering and feared.

“He portrays himself as a dragon, but he has no fire, no fang, no claws, no wings, he's a toothless worm. He begs and makes false promises. But I know you, I know you can keep doing great things. Just remember those eyes, Dany, those eyes will only lead to ruin. Those very eyes many rulers held.

And he was gone from her presence but she heard: “Happy birthday Dany, I left something in your saddle bag." 

 

Chapter 15: The Joust of the Hand

Chapter Text

Tyrael smiled reading a message from Lydia about Tyrion who returned to Winterfell and delivered plans for a saddle for Bran. Rignor looked them over and saw how they could work and would design them herself. But he was with Lord Stark helping the investigation garbed in his Champion tunic acting all menacingly.

“Lord Arryn's death was a great sadness for all of us, my lord," Grand Maester Pycelle said. "I would be more than happy to tell you what I can of the manner of his passing. Do be seated. Would you care for refreshments? Some dates, perhaps? I have some very fine persimmons as well. Wine no longer agrees with my digestion, I fear, but I can offer you a cup of iced milk, sweetened with honey. I find it most refreshing in this heat.”

There was no denying the heat; Ned could feel the silk tunic clinging to his chest. Thick, moist air covered the city like a damp woolen blanket, and the riverside had grown unruly as the poor fled their hot, airless warrens to jostle for sleeping places near the water, where the only breath of wind was to be found. "That would be most kind," Ned said, sitting by himself.

He saw Tyrael just unaffected by the heat itself. Pycelle lifted a tiny silver bell with thumb and forefinger and tinkled it gently. A slender young serving girl hurried into the solar. "Iced milk for the King's Hand, as well as his guard and myself, if you would be so kind, child. Well sweetened.”

As the girl went to fetch their drinks, the Grand Maester knotted his fingers together and rested his hands on his stomach. "The smallfolk say that the last year of summer is always the hottest. It is not so, yet oftentimes it feels that way, does it not? On days like this, I envy you northerners your summer snows. " The heavy jeweled chain around the old man's neck chinked softly as he shifted in his seat. "To be sure, King Maekar's summer was hotter than this one, and nearly as long. There were fools, even in the Citadel, who took that to mean that the Great Summer had come at last, the summer that never ends, but in the seventh year it broke suddenly, and we had a short autumn and a terribly long winter. Still, the heat was fierce while it lasted. Oldtown steamed and sweltered by day and came alive only by night. We would walk in the gardens by the river and argue about the gods. I remember the smells of those nights, my lord—perfume and sweat, melons ripe to bursting, peaches and pomegranates, nightshade and moonbloom. I was a young man then, still forging my chain. The heat did not exhaust me as it does now. " Pycelle's eyes were so heavily lidded he looked half-asleep. "My pardons, Lord Eddard. You did not come to hear foolish meanderings of a summer forgotten before your father was born. Forgive an old man his wanderings, if you would. Minds are like swords, I do fear. The old ones go to rust. Ah, and here is our milk. " The serving girl placed the tray between them, and Pycelle gave her a smile. "Sweet child. " He lifted a cup, tasted, nodded. "Thank you. You may go." 

Tyrael shook his head, the religious fools believed false words to false gods. Though the god of the light, that was an aspect of Akatosh. Akatosh wrath to be exact. Though the drowned god the, god the Ironborn worship. He saw it, slight symbols of the hourglass eye, as well other things. The drowned god was Hermas Mora himself.

When the girl had taken her leave, Pycelle peered at Ned through pale, rheumy eyes. "Now where were we? Oh, yes. You asked about Lord Arryn…” Tyrael nodded and said: “Yes Grand Maester, he was investigating something, something very serious, before his time.”

Ned nodded and said: “Yes… though any information could help.”

The Master then said: " If truth be told, the Hand had not seemed quite himself for some time," Pycelle said. "We had sat together on council many a year, he and I, and the signs were there to read, but I put them down to the great burdens he had borne so faithfully for so long. Those broad shoulders were weighed down by all the cares of the realm, and more besides. His son was ever sickly, and his lady wife so anxious that she would scarcely let the boy out of her sight. It was enough to wear even a strong man, and the Lord Jon was not young. Small wonder if he seemed melancholy and tired. Or so I thought at the time. Yet now I am less certain. " He gave a ponderous shake of his head.”

Ned then asked: “What can you tell us of his illness that claimed him?” Said Ned as both knew they were on the right track.

Thankfully Tyrael had a rune set up to keep this conversation from being heard as another being about possible implications to things could be made. The Grand Maester spread his hands in a gesture of helpless sorrow. "He came to me one day asking after a certain book, as hale and healthy as ever, though it did seem to me that something was troubling him deeply. The next morning he was twisted over in pain, too sick to rise from bed. Maester Colemon thought it was a chill on the stomach. The weather had been hot, and the Hand often iced his wine, which can upset the digestion. When Lord Jon continued to weaken, I went to him myself, but the gods did not grant me the power to save him. “

“Was he constantly eating or drinking from the same dishware? Or did he constantly touch something?" Asked Tyrael and the Maester pondered and the man got up and pulled out something from a secret cupboard that had some wine and he said: " This wine, Jon was always quite fond of it so…” Tyrael snatched it and sniffed it and rubbed his fingers along it and poured it out onto a plant and saw it eating away at the bark.

Pycelle's eyes widened and Tyrael said: “Just as I thought, poison. It may be tasteless and odorless, to the eyes of most men, but there's a trick with magic. When I circled the bottle top I detected poison.”

Pycelle then asked: “You know magic." 

“Yes Maester, I trust Tyrael with my life as well as the lives of my family. The boy is a blessed send of the gods themselves." Said Ned and the man nodded nervously and said: “If Lord Arryn was murder who could have done this?" 

Tyrael pulled out a piece of paper, before we departed from Winterfell, Lyra, Catelyn’s sister sent her an encoded message saying that the Lannister's did it. Though I've reread the letter a thousand times and yet, her handwriting, it's not one you might expect of a grieving widow who's out for revenge.”

This surprised them and Ned said: " Answer.”

" It's all known that a widow would cry tears on the letter and ask for relatives. And yet, there is none. That was my first clue as to something was off. Second, the way the paper is written, I noticed slight impressions and patterns as if previous similar letters were written before it.” Said Tyrael as he pointed at the slight groves and such.

Both men examined the letter closely and they saw this and the Grand Maester said: " By the gods you're right.”

Tyrael then continued and said: " But what troubled me is the poison. Who gave the poison wine to him?”

That question rang a silence and Tyrael then said: " I think the Lannister's may have a position in all of this, but not the one we are seeing. They could be something he had been investigating and uncovered along the way something more drastic. And yet, a falsely grieving widow… who she had been in contact with, who gave Jon Arryn the Wine, why the Lannisters and what is the plot of the investigation. For simple questions all lead to one answer, an answer we must uncover.”

The two men remained silent and Tyrael examined the plant and asked: “Grand Maester, the poisoned wine… what poison could cause this?”

The man looked at the plant and saw it ate away at the bark and some form of pussy like stool. The man then said: “Tears of Lys, is a rare and expensive poison, made by the alchemists of Lys. Though I have some in my collection of remedies and poisons but mine has remained untouched.”

" I believe you, and this is rare and expensive as you say. Then only a few people could have gotten this. One being Littlefinger, as master of coin he monitors all costs and every coin, so he could have easily hid the purchase, second is the spider as he could have acquired it through one of his spies and lastly the Lannisters could have gotten this from someone else. Three likely suspects we have.” Said Tyrael.

Ned frowned and stroked his chin, this is why he brought Tyrael. The boy has a sharp mind, sharper than any blade and could see the unseen. The conversation would end as Pycelle told them what book the man was given. As Ned went off Tyrael walked the halls and noticed someone following him and turned the corner and the person following him saw a huge cluster and couldn't find the person. Unknowingly above then, Tyrael was looking at them, he had seen this boy who was part of the servants and the one who worked in the armory. Once the young man was gone he dropped down and frowned before continuing on his merry way. As Tyrael.found himself in the garden of Myrcella he saw the young girl smiling as she walked through her flowers and she noticed him and she said: “Aye, Ser Tyrael… I've just sent it to you.”

" Well I've just stumbled upon her after losing one of the eunuchs' spies. So your majesty, what do you need from me.”

The young princess then said: " As you know I am eleven years old and will soon be my twelfth as my family will start to look for a betrothed.”

" Yes, I understand that much.” Said Tyrael.

" And last night I asked you to court me and you spaced out before a guard decided to escort me back to my chamber.” She said with a teasing grin.

" Sorry about that Princess, the age of noble courting in Tamriel is usually after thirteen. So I was kinda thrown off for a bit. I do find you beautiful. Like a field of sunflowers. But may I ask why?” He asked.

She giggled and said: " Because…" she walked over and whispered: “I've seen what you did with my mother. You dominated her, even my father never bothers her. I want that, to feel that strong embrace, to feel this…” she grabbed his crotch and said: *To feel that taking what I give to you every day." 

She felt it hardened and he thought: ‘Fucking hell damn it.’

She giggled and said: “Oh that entices you greatly…” she purred and he said: " Yes, but I would rather wait for you to mature because if I did, I may hurt you when you're not ready.”

" Such a gentleman. I suppose I shall agree to it. After all, I desire you.” She said as she rubbed his crotch.

He chuckled and thought: ‘Just my luck…’ as she turned and asked: “May I ask when your name day is?" 

“The day of the tourney I am afraid. Though I really never had a reason to celebrate it as that day is full of tragedy for me." He replied.

Myrcella sat on a chair and said: “I see, perhaps if you win, I may reward you personally." 

“Being within your presence is reward enough, your grace." He replied and she giggled.

As they talked for while he left her to her own decisions knowing she was being giddy as a school girl. Soon the tourney was upon them within a few days. Seven days ahead and people were already pouring in for the tourney itself. Though Tyrael sucked through the shadows garbed as a Nightingale as he watched the golden cloaks and wrote down things before moving on. He decided to investigate and what he found was questionable, Ned was busy following Jon’s trail. But for him, he noticed how the funds for the Golden Cloaks had been troubling, thus he found it. The guards were practically taking from the common folk and it was sickening, Janos Slynt took money from his own men's wages. He saw if the common folk could not pay or was denied they were stripped of their possession and either sent away or to prison. Thus he found Janos Slynt's room in the red keep and found it, everything, even a paper with orders to execute the two who would speak out against him. Seeing the handwriting he had also forged documents of taking money personally from the crown and was planning to assassinate members of the small council. Smiling he exited back to his room taking the hidden passages he discovered with clairvoyance and heard: “It's the hand's tourney that's the cause of all the trouble, my lords," the commander of the city watch complained to the king's council.

“The king's tourney," Ned corrected, wincing. "I assure you, the Hand wants no part of it.”

“Call it what you will, my lord. Knights have been arriving from all over the realm, and for every knight we get two freeriders, three craftsmen, six men-at-arms, a dozen merchants, two dozen whores, and more thieves than I dare guess. This cursed heat had half the city in a fever to start, and now with all these visitors … last night we had a drowning, a tavern riot, three knife fights, a rape, two fires, robberies beyond count, and a drunken horse race down the Street of the Sisters. The night before a woman's head was found in the Great Sept, floating in the rainbow pool. No one seems to know how it got there or who it belongs to. "said the voice of Janos.

“How dreadful," Varys said with a shudder.

Lord Renly Baratheon was less sympathetic. "If you cannot keep the king's peace, Janos, perhaps the City Watch should be commanded by someone who can?”

" Oh that we can agree on…" said Tyrael, emerging wearing his Imperial Dragon Armor without the helmet and he said: “Sorry for the intrusion, but father… I have discovered evidence that not only Janos Slynt has been taking bribes and payments from the guard, but also doing other questionable acts as well as stealing from the crown and planning an assassination of the Small Council as to him rising in power.”

Tyrael tossed down the black book and Janos eyes widened and Tyrael then said: "A trail of the former hand had led me to him investigating the watch, unfortunately the King pardoned Janos. Though that was a mistake. As you all can see, every detail of eery crime he pardoned from rapes, murder, even selling prisoners to be slaves.”

The council looked and few of them were mortified. Janos drew his sword and shout: " I'll kill yo…" just then a thump was heard and the small council minus Ned and the guards watched as Janos Slynt head rolled to floor before they could even blink with Dragon Oath in Tyrael's hand he spun the blade and sheathed it after wiping it on the man's body after it collapsed.

Renly gaped and said: “I didn't even see him move." 

The Spider then said: “Truly an enigma." 

Littlefinger eyed the body and put his hands before his face and eyes Tyrael cautiously. Ned then said: “An act of self defense… we can all agree. Janos lies dead for his crimes and counts of multiple attempts of murder.”

The council all nodded in agreement and Tyrael then said: " Forgive me, I never meant for that to happen, I'd hope with an honor he would have turned himself in. But who will lead the guard, many of the Golden Cloaks have all most likely been on Janos’s side. There are so few of them who are not, the only one who was out of reach of his influence was Jaime Lannister, perhaps he can act as temporary commander till one can be provided. The man may have… killed the former king, but I believe he had a reason… and that reason is this…” he pulled out a bottle of murky green liquid, scaring everyone in the room.

“I found a cache of this, in the slums. I covered the cache up and ran as fast as I could. I thought it may have been tied to Jon Arryn’s death but when I read the book and saw no record of this, I knew from history books that the mad king was obsessed with this. And came up with a theory, there are more caches all over King’s Landing and during the rebellion, Aerys was planning to burn it to the ground with the entire rebellion entering the city taking them all out as well." Said Tyrael, seriously causing everyone to look mortified.

“Jaime Lannister must've discovered this and he did the one thing he can do…” Ned then said, finishing Tyrael’s words: " Kill the mad king.”

Tyrael then placed the item by his father and said: " He's a hero, he's stained his honor with the blood of a tyrant to save thousands.”

Everyone in the room nodded and Ned then said: " The King will be notified of this, and the golden cloaks will scour every inch of King’s landing to find all of them.”

Petyr then said: " Still the matter of security.”

" I will give twenty good swords from my own household guard, to serve with the Watch until the crowds have left." Said Tyrael.

“I'll speak with Regent Tullius and his majesty upon their arrival to see if any able man can be spared and help with the recovery of the caches.” Said Tyrael.

" That's the most appreciative young man, the more help you can provide the better.” Said Renly as Tyrael bowed and left the room.

Days later the day arrived for the Empire of Cyrodiil to arrive. Tyrael had left early that morning and made sure the harbour would be clear for the Emperor’s arrival in order of the King. Soon enough a welcoming party arrived with the Stark sisters and Ned alongside the small council, a few golden cloaks and the royal family. Just then a horn was blown as the mist was slowly receding, Tyrael.pulled out his and blew into it getting a deep howling sound. And Tommen noticed a shadow in the sky and said: “Look!" 

As the mist receded, everyone gaped seeing a fleet of flying ships over various sizes, though the heart was a massive dark coloured ship with a golden maiden on the front with each ship having a massive bag above it. Ned asked: “Did you know about this?" 

“Not really sure, I've heard the Navy was planning something, but this is something.* Said Tyrael smoothly lying.

As the ships descended into the water the sacks of hair deflated and sails were dropped from the mast as a few ships broke off. An began to spread around. As the massive ship docked, a side of the ship retracted and a plank was lowered and two lines of men in full body armor with small opened in their helmets and a red like Mohawk going down the helmets with the Empire insignia on with a red cape around their necks with the insignia of the of the guard on the cape. The man filed to the side and stood attention facing one another. Jaime sensed the pressure of warriors, warriors that outnumbered him and soon emerging from the ship was a man in long blue robes lined with furs with gilded wrist guards and. The inner robe being red with golden accents as a circlet adorned his head. It was a golden circlet embedded with precious gems and in the heart of it was a large ruby. Beside him in what could be described as pale armor with golden accents and a large red gem on the chest. 

All the armors had battle skirts showing they were an actual legion of warriors. On the other side of the man was a beautiful woman with long flowing strawberry blonde hair and wore a green dress with puffy sleeves and golden accents with her bust having a red cloth covering it. She wore a Nordic circlet with a Nordic ring and amulet on her person. Tyrael then shouted: “Announcing the arrival of his majesty, second to his name. Emperor of the Mede Dynasty and the Empire, Titus Mede. Announcing the arrival of her majesty, High Queen of Skyrim, Elisif the Fair! Announcing the arrival of Regent Tullius, General and Military Governor of Skyrim! All hail the EMPEROR!”

The soldiers began chanting. Kneeling he then said: “Welcome my Emperor to Westeros." 

Titus Mede's nose crinkled and he said: “Rise knight, you have more than earned your way then just simply kneeling before me." 

Tyrael stood and asked: " And your cousin?”

" A touch of sea sickness my boy, she will be joining us alongside Elisif Steward and bodyguard." Said the Emperor.

Tyrael saluted the general and said: “General, pleasure to see you." 

“At ease Legate, you are a knight and a decorated war hero and a hero of Skyrim. But it's nice to see you alive, we've heard your journey to Atmora had issues.” Said Tullius.

" Sea Giants, though I had to splinter off from the expedition so they could survive as I led the giants away after sinking one of their long boats.” Replied Tyrael.

Tullius nodded and said: “Still, beg not push your luck young man." 

He nodded and bowed courtesy and said: “Your majesty is always a pleasure, I take it Solitude is safe as usual." 

She nodded with a soft smile and said: “Yes they are my Thane, all of Skyrim has skirmishes with the remnants of Ulfric Stormcloak rebellion, but they fear mostly of you." 

Tyrael chuckled and he said: “Glad I struck the fear of the gods into them." 

As introductions with the court of the seven kingdoms a carriage was bought for them and they rode off to the Red Keep for a Welcoming feast as the Emperor sent some men to fetch their barrels of ale and such. Inside the cast, Tyrael sat with Elisif, Tullius and Titus as the general asked: “Okay Knight, why have you sent a letter to ask for a meeting within a year." 

“Unfortunately I can not go into detail as I do not have most of the information, but I do have what I know. Beyond Westeros northern land known as Winterfell is the far north, where a great glacier wall covering a massive keep.connected by pathways resided. And in that north are tribes that seem to be like the Forsworn and Skaal rolled into one, but that is not the threat. The threat lies a massive legion of undead. I have seen them, and amongst the undead was Undead Sea Giants."

This caused the four to look at him and Tullius asked: " Are you for certain.”

" As certain as Alduin… I have Kaiden assisting the Black watch who are criminals who have vanished there or those who volunteer. Though he can not officially join, more men were always welcomed." Said Tyrael.

"Something is bothering you Tyrael, what is it?” Asked Elisif.

" They're is a tourney being held in honor of the new hand of the king, knights from all over will be coming to try and claim the prize. But I am entering for one reason, justice. During King Roberts rise to power at the end of the rebellion against a man who made Pelagius the Mad look like a child was given two children corpses of the mad king, ripped from their mother's arms and strangled. The King didn't care they were children, only that if whose blood they were.” Said Tyrael seriously causing the Emperor eyes to harden and Elisif to cover her mouth and Tullius to remain stoick.

" The man who did the did was given the name the mountain for his size, he did the did willingly and didn't care. Another is his brother. On my way to the South, I watched as a young boy was burned alive in an accidental fire as they called it, but it was no accident. The flames should not have done the damage. He is known as the hound. But their names are Sandor and Gregor Clegane. They are on my list of prey.” He said darkly and the general said: "And you want the order to proceed.”

" Yes…" said Tyrael and Titus then said: “Then be very careful young man, don't let anger cloud your mind.”

“I won't, but they have a special spot in oblivion just waiting for them." Said the hero of Skyrim.

The night before the tournament Tyrael finished preparing his equipment for the tourney and nodded his head. All seven Kingdoms had shown up, even the Lord of the rock, Tywin Lannister. But the family of High garden the Tyrael's showed up with all three sons and their daughter with Mace Tyrell being a blinding fool and his wife Aleria Hightower and his mother Oleanne Redwyne the queen of thorns. Margery was just as beautiful as many would call her, though Renly had commented she looked like Lyanna and Tyrael snorted and replied: “Probably from the back my good sir. But Joan and Arya are the closest to her as it gets." 

But when he saw the Martell’s, Dorne could not attend, but his young brother who desires to enter and face the mountain was. Oberyn Martell was accompanied with a party of his eight daughters and his nieces. Tyrael watched from his point as ever Lord found a place to rest, but Tyrael had left a message for the company of the sun spear. But his eyes had lingeries on one Elia Sand, she had long black hair and a pale streak of hair that was tied with her hair on the side of her head framing it. With black eyes having a hint of the same color as Dany and Joan. Hardly noticeable, but he smiled. Elia Sand, was Rhaenys Targaryen and he had left a message saying for them to meet him, well someone who knows of the truth.

Tyrael halted his task and left as he had a meeting and entered the office of the hand and saw everyone gathered and he used a spell and said closing the door: “Good we are all here, I saw the Dorne party arrive today, but someone caught my eye amongst them." 

The girl's eyes narrowed and Tyrael said: “Elia Sand, or should I see Joan’s sister Rhaenys Targaryen."

This surprised everyone and Joan hand grasped sister 's sword and Ned asked: “Are you certain?" 

“Aye, her line lock of hair that matches Joan’s own and her dark eyes have a hint of purple to them. All signs showing who she truly is. Though she appears to be fourteen, I believe the Sunspears had received her and a duplicate was placed and you know the rest." Said Tyrael.

Joan covered her mouth and she whispered: “That means?" 

“Aye, the dragon is never just down to you, Daenerys, Viserys now. We have an allied father. I've left them a message to meet me.” Said Tyrael.

" Are you mad Tyrael, the Martell's are known to be serpents, you will be in a den of snakes.” Said Sansa in worry. He just laughed and said: "Fret not, I left a part of the message to show that I was an Allie." 

Arya then asked: " Can they be trusted?”

" Possibly, but Tyrael may fall under their charms.” Said Ned jokingly.

Tyrael snorted and said: "Please, if a succubus couldn't entice me, what hope do they have?”

Meanwhile the Sand and Martell sisters all felt a pang of anger. The day of the tourney itself, Sansa rode to the Hand's tourney with her sisters, Septa Mordane and Jeyne Poole, in a litter with curtains of yellow silk so fine she could see right through them. They turned the whole world gold. Beyond the city walls, a hundred pavilions had been raised beside the river, and the common folk came out in the thousands to watch the games. The splendor of it all took Sansa's breath away; the shining armor, the great chargers caparisoned in silver and gold, the shouts of the crowd, the banners snapping in the wind… and the knights themselves, the knights most of all. 

“It is better than the songs," she whispered when they found the places that her father had promised her, among the high lords and ladies.

Arya scoffed and noticed everyone trying to hard to impress one another and saw the Oculatis of the Empire easily stop issues. She then said: “Maybe, but those legion guys, they don't less around." 

The girls saw one the legion men tied a thief like he wrangled a cow and carried the person off. Joan nodded and said: “I can see why Tyrael holds them with praise." 

Sepea nodded and saw one of them buying some food for a few children in rags which made her smile. She looked and saw Sansa was dressed beautifully that day, in a green gown that brought out the auburn of her hair, and she knew they were looking at her and smiling. Though her Tessai was tucked into her cleavage. Arya was wearing a blue sleeveless gown and had on boots. Though the skit stopped to her shins. Joan was garbed in simple red gown with her sword at her hip. The sister was back in her own pocket space.

They watched the heroes of a hundred songs ride forth, each more fabulous than the last. The seven knights of the Kingsguard took the field, all but Jaime Lannister in scaled armor the color of milk, their cloaks as white as freshfallen snow. Ser Jaime wore the white cloak as well, but beneath it he was shining gold from head to foot, with a lion's-head helm and a golden sword. Ser Gregor Clegane, the Mountain That Rides, thundered past them like an avalanche. Sansa remembered Lord Yohn Royce, who had guested at Winterfell two years before. 

"His armor is bronze, thousands and thousands of years old, engraved with magic runes that ward him against harm," she whispered to Jeyne. 

Septa Mordane pointed out Lord Jason Mallister, in indigo chased with silver, the wings of an eagle on his helm. He had cut down three of Rhaegar's bannermen on the Trident. The girls giggled over the warrior priest Thoros of Myr, with his flapping red robes and shaven head, until the septa told them that he had once scaled the walls of Pyke with a flaming sword in hand. Other riders Sansa did not know; hedge knights from the Fingers and Highgarden and the mountains of Dorne, unsung freeriders and new-made squires, the younger sons of high lords and the heirs of lesser houses. Younger men, most had done no great deeds as yet, but Sansa and Jeyne agreed that one day the Seven Kingdoms would resound to the sound of their names. Ser Balon Swann. 

Lord Bryce Caron of the Marches. Bronze Yohn's heir, Ser Andar Royce, and his younger brother Ser Robar, their silvered steel plate filigreed in bronze with the same ancient runes that warded their father. The twins Ser Horas and Ser Hobber, whose shields displayed the grape cluster sigil of the Redwynes, burgundy on blue. Patrek Mallister, Lord Jason's son. Six Freys of the Crossing: Ser Jared, Ser Hosteen, Ser Danwell, Ser Emmon, Ser Theo, Ser Perwyn, sons and grandsons of old Lord Walder Frey, and his bastard son Martyn Rivers as well. Jeyne Poole confessed herself frightened by the look of Jalabhar Xho, an exile prince from the Summer Isles who wore a cape of green and scarlet feathers over skin as dark as night, but when she saw young Lord Beric Dondarrion, with his hair like red gold and his black shield slashed by lightning, she pronounced herself willing to marry him on the instant.

Then the Hound entered the lists as well, and so too the king's brother, handsome Lord Renly of Storm's End. Jory, Alyn, and Harwin rode for Winterfell and the north. "Jory looks a beggar among these others," Septa Mordane sniffed when he appeared. 

Sansa could only agree. Jory's armor was blue-grey plate without device or ornament, and a thin grey cloak hung from his shoulders like a soiled rag. But then came Tyrael Septum garbed in his black armor, not riding Epona, but a black steed, a black steed that made many of the horses step back as it had red eyes that almost seemed to glow. It wore an armor for horses made of ebony and without Tyrael's face present, he looked the most feared of them all. The jousting went all day and into the dusk, the hooves of the great warhorses pounding down the lists until the field was a ragged wasteland of torn earth. A dozen times Jeyne and Sansa cried out in unison as riders crashed together, lances exploding into splinters while the commons screamed for their favorites. Jeyne covered her eyes whenever a man fell, like a frightened little girl, but Sansa was made of sterner stuff. 

A great lady knew how to behave at tournaments. Even Septa Mordane noted her composure and nodded in approval. Arya and Joan cheered alongside Sansa and Jeyne during. Tyrael's matches, though he was against most hedge knights. As the Kingslayer rode brilliantly. He overthrew Ser Andar Royce and the Marcher Lord Bryce Caron as easily as if he were riding at rings, and then took a hard-fought match from white-haired Barristan Selmy, who had won his first two tilts against men thirty and forty years his junior. 

Then Tyrael was next, he was against Oberyn Martell. He rose a black steed with a mane and tail that looked to be made of fire. The man eyed Tyrael cautiously, he had watched the Imperial Knight defeat every for before they could, his horse was fast and powerful. The two charged and as Oberyn readied his lance, he was instantly knocked from his horse with ease. Oberyn hit the ground and found his chain main snagged and the links busted, he looked to see Tyrael riding on and stopped by his side and extended a hand and the man took it and he whispered: “Fire and Blood…” the man looked surprised by his helmet and Tyrael rode off.

Sandor Clegane and his immense brother, Ser Gregor the Mountain, seemed unstoppable as well, riding down one foe after the next in ferocious style. The most terrifying moment of the day came during Ser Gregor's second joust, when his lance rode up and struck a young knight from the Vale under the gorget with such force that it drove through his throat, killing him instantly. The youth fell not ten feet from where Sansa was seated. The point of Ser Gregor's lance had snapped off in his neck, and his life's blood flowed out in slow pulses, each weaker than the one before. His armor was shiny new; a bright streak of fire ran down his outstretched arm, as the steel caught the light. Then the sun went behind a cloud, and it was gone. 

His cloak was blue, the color of the sky on a clear summer's day, trimmed with a border of crescent moons, but as his blood seeped into it, the cloth darkened and the moons turned red, one by one. Jeyne Poole wept so hysterically that Septa Mordane finally took her off to regain her composure, but Sansa sat with her hands folded in her lap, watching with a strange fascination alongside her sisters as Arya boo’d the mountain and Joan snickered at her cousin/sister. She had never seen a man die before. She ought to be crying too, she thought, but the tears would not come. Perhaps she had used up all her tears for Lady and Bran. It would be different if it had been Jory or Ser Rodrik or Father, she told herself. 

The young knight in the blue cloak was nothing to her, some stranger from the Vale of Arryn whose name she had forgotten as soon as she heard it. And now the world would forget his name too, Sansa realized; there would be no songs sung for him. That was sad. Tyrael mentioned songs would never keep a person's memory alive, the person would remain alive in the hearts of those they cared about. After they carried off the body, a boy with a spade ran onto the field and shoveled dirt over the spot where he had fallen, to cover up the blood. Then the jousts resumed.

Ser Balon Swann also fell to Gregor, and Lord Renly to the Hound. Renly was unhorsed so violently that he seemed to fly backward off his charger, legs in the air. His head hit the ground with an audible crack that made the crowd gasp, but it was just the golden antler on his helm. One of the tines had snapped off beneath him. When Lord Renly climbed to his feet, the commons cheered wildly, for King Robert's handsome young brother was a great favorite. He handed the broken tine to his conqueror with a gracious bow. 

The Hound snorted and tossed the broken antler into the crowd, where the commons began to punch and claw over the little bit of gold, until Lord Renly walked out among them and restored the peace. By then Septa Mordane had returned, alone. Jeyne had been feeling ill, she explained; she had helped her back to the castle. Sansa had almost forgotten about Jeyne. Later a hedge knight in a checkered cloak disgraced himself by killing Beric Dondarrion's horse, and was declared forfeit. Lord Beric shifted his saddle to a new mount, only to be knocked right off it by Thoros of Myr. Ser Aron Santagar and Lothor Brune tilted thrice without result; Ser Aron fell afterward to Lord Jason Mallister, and Brune to Yohn Royce's younger son, Robar. 

Now it was Tyrael’s turn, to gain the forth spot. He would be riding against one of the son's of Higarden mobility Loras Tyrell. Loras horse was in heat, but as they rode he saw the black horse was unaffected by it and before he knew it, he was thrown off his horse with his chest plate and helmet torn right off. The ground erupted into cheer and applause. In the royal booth where the royal house holds sat Mace Tyrell frowned seeing his son defeated, but he saw his mother eyeing the new nobles from Tamriel, a continent far across the seas and full of mystery. All eyes were on them especially the seasoned warriors in the noble houses, the Emperor had scars, scars on his shaved head showing that were from war and the man had an aura similar to Mace own mother but with a more kinder atmosphere.

They all watched as Tyrael helped Loras to his feet and said: “Nice try, Ser Tyrell… but Shadowmere is no simple horse my good fellow.”

Tyrael rode off and would soon be in the finals. In the end it came down to four; the Hound and his monstrous brother Gregor, Jaime Lannister the Kingslayer, and Tyrael Septum many dubbed the Dark Knight. Sansa and her sisters cheered even Septa had clapped, Tyrael had shown virtues of a knight that the crowd adored. Pulling up to them he pulled out from his armor three roses and gifted each one of them to the girls before riding off. The three published but giggled seeing this and Septa smiled seeing Arya act like a maiden. When Sansa finally looked up, a man was standing over her, staring. 

He was short, with a pointed beard and a silver streak in his hair, almost as old as her father. "You must be one of her daughters," he said to her. He had grey-green eyes that did not smile when his mouth did. "You have the Tully look." 

“I'm Sansa Stark," she said, ill at ease. The man wore a heavy cloak with a fur collar, fastened with a silver mockingbird, and he had the effortless manner of a high lord, but she did not know him. "I have not had the honor, my lord.”

Joan and Arya looked to the man as Septa Mordane quickly took a hand. "Sweet child, this is Lord Petyr Baelish, of the king's small council." 

"Your mother was my queen of beauty once," the man said quietly. His breath smelled of mint. "You have her hair. " His fingers brushed against her cheek as he stroked one auburn lock. Quite abruptly he turned and walked away.

Noticing her sister and he said.surprising seeing them resembling Lyanna he said: “An these must be your sisters. They look much like your aunt Lyanna. Though I am sure that…” Sansa then said: " I appreciate if you wouldn't call my older sister a bastard Sir. Joanna is family, no matter what.”

The man blinked and he bowed and said: " My apologies.”

By then, the moon was well up and the crowd was tired, so the king decreed that the last three matches would be fought the next morning, before the melee. While the commons began their walk home, talking of the day's jousts and the matches to come on the morrow, the court and nobles moved to the riverside to begin the feast. Six monstrous huge aurochs had been roasting for hours, turning slowly on wooden spits while kitchen boys basted them with butter and herbs until the meat crackled and spit. Tables and benches had been raised outside the pavilions, piled high with sweetgrass and strawberries and fresh-baked bread. Sansa and Septa Mordane were given places of high honor, to the left of the raised dais where the king himself sat beside his queen. When Prince Joffrey seated himself to her right, she felt her throat tighten and sickness plagues her, but she eased herself seeing Tyrael come in changed out of his armor for his champion attire and sat between Tullius and Elisif.

He had not spoken a word to her since the awful thing had happened, and she had not dared to speak to him. At first she thought she hated him for what they'd think they've done. Though it was not Joffrey doing, bug the Queen who nearly had the order done it; she was the one to hate, her and Arya. Nothing bad would have happened except for, no she shouldn't blame her little sister. Family is duty and duty is honor is what the Tully motto is. As Joffrey began to charm her she saw Arya and Joan talking and giving her glances of worry, which she was thrilled by.

As the servants kept the cups filled all night, yet afterward Sansa could not recall ever tasting the wine. Though the Legion had provided stocks with ales and such which everyone was nearly following over. Titus, Tullius, Elisif and Tyrael were unaffected having been use to most of the stock themselves. But they got amusement seeing the others stumble. Though Sansa was drunk, she was drunk on the magic of the night, giddy with glamour, swept away by beauties she had dreamt of all her life and never dared hope to know. Singers sat before the king's pavilion, filling the dusk with music. A juggler kept a cascade of burning clubs spinning through the air. 

The king's own fool, the pie-faced simpleton called Moon Boy, danced about on stilts, all in motley, making mock of everyone with such deft cruelty that Sansa wondered if he was simple after all. Even Septa Mordane was helpless before him; when he sang his little song about the High Septon, she laughed so hard she spilled wine on herself. As courses came and went. A thick soup of barley and venison. Salads of sweetgrass and spinach and plums, sprinkled with crushed nuts. Snails in honey and garlic. Sansa had never eaten snails before; Joffrey showed her how to get the snail out of the shell, and fed her the first sweet morsel heraelf and thenlook.on Tyrael’s face was a blank stare.

Then came trout fresh from the river, baked in clay; her prince helped her crack open the hard casing to expose the flaky white flesh within. And when the meat course was brought out, he served her himself, slicing a queen's portion from the joint, smiling as he laid it on her plate. She could see from the way he moved that his right arm was still troubling him, yet he uttered not a word of complaint. She noticed how his rakmeng looked more elegant then most Lord's and Ladies garba and many asked him about it as he told them it was from a simple seamstress who owns a shop in Skyrim called Radiant Eakment as she sails more then just garba but jewelry as well. She noticed he wore the Nordic jewelry and had his own sword at his hip with from be cuffed boots on. He looked and was playing the part of a refined gentleman.

Later came sweetbreads and pigeon pie and baked apples fragrant with cinnamon and lemon cakes frosted in sugar, but by then Sansa was so stuffed that she could not manage more than two little lemon cakes, as much as she loved them. She was wondering whether she might attempt a third when the king began to shout. King Robert had grown louder with each course. From time to time Sansa could hear him laughing or roaring a command over the music and the clangor of plates and cutlery, but they were too far away for her to make out his words. She watched as the King was chatting with the drunkard lords who were just chatting as if their was no bad blood between them. But she saw her father motioned for her to remain vigilant. Just then everybody heard him.

“No," he thundered in a voice that drowned out all other speech. Sansa was shocked to see the king on his feet, red of face, reeling. He had a goblet of wine in one hand, and he was drunk as a man could be. "You do not tell me what to do, woman," he screamed at Queen Cersei. "I am king here, do you understand? I rule here, and if I say that I will fight tomorrow, I will fight!”

This caused a few to become more aware out of the drunkness. Tyrael saw Oberyn smirking and knew what he was thinking. No one dared to move till, Tyrael said: “If the King desires to reignite the warrior he is, then let him." 

Everyone looked to him and he said: “Though your majesty, your wife is concerned for your safety as any wife should be."

“That may be boy, but I can still knock anyone of you in the dirt…” he then eyes Jaime and said: " Remember that, Kingslayer." 

Slamming his goblet down he roared out: “Give me my hammer and not a man in the realm can stand before me!”

Jaime Lannister rose and brushed himself off. "As you say, Your Grace. " His voice was stiff.

Lord Tywin scoffed at his son in law, but his eyes drifted to the one who brought back Brightroar, he would speak to him once the tourney was at its end. Unknowingly the Sunspear party where also thinking the same thing. Lady Oleanne was also eyeing the young man shrouded in mystery, a deckard war hero that wa a younger than her grandchildren, a hero to country, a scholar, a man of wealth and had the ears of an Emperor and Queen. He was someone she should be watching for. Meanwhile one of Little finger spies watched Tyrael closely as per his master's orders. As the hour grew late, Tyrael had left accompanying the Emperor and his party his cart as he said: “The King is an absolute man child, wouldn't you agree." 

" Agreed, I never felt more disgusted in my life.” Replied Victoria.

" Aye, the man could use a lesson in manner.” Said Tullius.

Elisif them said: " Are you worried about tomorrow Thane?”

" No, I'm excited. The dragon is ready for a flight.” He replied.

"I noticed you have the eyes of many on you Tyrael… that is not a good thing.” Said the Emperor as Tyrael then said: "Did a few favors and everyone sees you as a threat. Just the norm, but have the Oculatus make sure no spies are on board the ship. We don't need any surprises.”

Everyone nodded, returning to the keep Tyrael collapsed on his bed and would leg slumber take him. That night he found himself starring before an older version of him sitting upon a throne. Just the the sound of a deep growl was heard as he looked up he saw bright purple eyes staring down at him. The two locked eyes and a voice of power said: "Felniir los wah bo, yol ahrk sos ahrk strun rein!" 

Chapter 16: The Finally of the Tourney

Summary:

The Hands Tourney is at its end and new things are on the move.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The next morning Tyrael and Joan were with Ned Stark as they were with Ser Barristan.

“I stood last vigil for him myself," Ser Barristan Selmy said as they looked down at the body in the back of the cart. "He had no one else. A mother in the Vale, I am told.”

In the pale dawn light, the young knight looked as though he were sleeping. He had not been handsome, but death had smoothed his rough-hewn features and the silent sisters had dressed him in his best velvet tunic, with a high collar to cover the ruin the lance had made of his throat. Eddard Stark looked at his face, and wondered if it had been for his sake that the boy had died. Slain by a Lannister bannerman before Ned could speak to him; could that be mere happenstance? He supposed he would never know. 

"Hugh was Jon Arryn's squire for four years," Selmy went on. "The king knighted him before he rode north, in Jon's memory. The lad wanted it desperately, yet I feared he was not ready." 

“It didn't make sense though, as a squire he would have learned all he needed to fasten his armor, even if he didn't have help." Said Tyrael.

Joan and Ned also nodded to this as Barristan then said: “Right you are, and you rode valiantly and earned your place." 

“Thank you, I had hoped to actually stack myself against better opponents, but it seems lady luck was not with me." Said Tyrael with a shrug.

Ned had slept badly last night and he felt tired beyond his years. "Yes. But none of us is ever ready," he said.

"For knighthood?” Asked Barristan.

" For death, my good man. But we should always greet death welcomely.” Said Tyrael as the elder warriors nodded.

Gently Ned covered the boy with his cloak, a bloodstained bit of blue bordered in crescent moons. When his mother asked why her son was dead, he reflected bitterly, they would tell her he had fought to honor the King's Hand, Eddard Stark. "This was needless. War should not be a game. " Ned turned to the woman beside the cart, shrouded in grey, face hidden but for her eyes. The silent sisters prepared men for the grave, and it was ill fortune to look on the face of death. "Send his armor home to the Vale. The mother will want to have it." 

“But it should be repaired, I am sure she would not want to even see the spot where her son was killed." Said Tyrael as everyone nodded. 

"It is worth a fair piece of silver," Ser Barristan said. "The boy had it forged special for the tourney. Plain work, but good. I do not know if he had finished paying the smith.”

"He paid yesterday, my lord, and he paid dearly," Ned replied. And to the silent sister he said, "Send the mother the armor. I will deal with this smith. " She bowed her head.

“I've also checked, he had at least two more small payments to make, and I finished paying an extra to the smith for information about High, it seems it was nothing out of the ordinary though. Came in, ordered the armor out of the down payment on it and went on his way.” Said Tyrael.

" Still a shame, he shouldn't have had to die, “ said Joan.

" Aye, the mountain is a monster, and there is no shame in forfeiting when you know you'll be outmatched. Live to fight another day.” Said Tyrael.

Afterward Ser Barristan walked with the Stark party to the king's pavilion. The camp was beginning to stir. Fat sausages sizzled and spit over fire pits, spicing the air with the scents of garlic and pepper. Young squires hurried about on errands as their masters woke, yawning and stretching, to meet the day. A serving man with a goose under his arm bent his knee when he caught sight of them. 

“M'lords," he muttered as the goose honked and pecked at his fingers. The shields displayed outside each tent heralded its occupant: the silver eagle of Seagard, Bryce Caron's field of nightingales, a cluster of grapes for the Redwynes, brindled boar, red ox, burning tree, white ram, triple spiral, purple unicorn, dancing maiden, blackadder, twin towers, horned owl, and last the pure white blazons of the Kingsguard, shining like the dawn.

"The king means to fight in the melee today," Ser Barristan said as they were passing Ser Meryn's shield, its paint sullied by a deep gash where Loras Tyrell's lance had scarred the wood as he drove him from his saddle.

"Yes," Ned said grimly. Jory had woken him last night to bring him that news. Small wonder he had slept so badly.

Ser Barristan's look was troubled. "They say night's beauties fade at dawn, and the children of wine are often disowned in the morning light." 

"They say so," Ned agreed, "but not of Robert.” Other men might reconsider words spoken in drunken bravado, but Robert Baratheon would remember and, remembering, would never back down.

The king's pavilion was close by the water, and the morning mists off the river had wreathed it in wisps of grey. It was all of golden silk, the largest and grandest structure in the camp. Outside the entrance, Robert's warhammer was displayed beside an immense iron shield blazoned with the crowned stag of House Baratheon. Ned had hoped to discover the king still abed in a wine-soaked sleep, but luck was not with him. They found Robert drinking beer from a polished horn and roaring his displeasure at two young squires who were trying to buckle him into his armor. "Your Grace," one was saying, almost in tears, "it's made too small, it won't go. " He fumbled, and the gorget he was trying to fit around Robert's thick neck tumbled to the ground.

Tyrael snickered and whispered to Joan: “Dar she blows, the great whale." 

Joan choked on air hiding her laugh.

"Seven hells!" Robert swore. "Do I have to do it myself? Piss on the both of you. Pick it up. Don't just stand there gaping, Lancel, pick it up!" The lad jumped, and the king noticed his company. "Look at these oafs, Ned. My wife insisted I take these two to squire for me, and they're worse than useless. Can't even put a man's armor on him properly. Squires, they say. I say they're swineherds dressed up in silk. “

" Your majesty, you just put on more muscle, it seems your old armor will not accommodate your new strength. They tried to adjust your old armor, but a new one is much needed.” Said Tyrael.

The King paused and then said: “Words of flattery to the King are dangerous boys. But at least you have honor and honesty.”

Ned nodded and said: " My friend, the boys did try their best, but you're too muscular for your old armor.”

Robert Baratheon took a long swallow of beer, tossed the empty horn onto his sleeping furs, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and said darkly, "Fat? Fat, is it? Is that how you speak to your king?" He let go of his laughter, sudden as a storm. "Ah, damn you, Ned, why are you always right?" 

The squires smiled nervously until the king turned on them. "You. Yes, both of you. You heard the Hand. The king is too fat for his armor. Go find Ser Aron Santagar. Tell him I need the breastplate stretcher. Now! What are you waiting for?”

The boys tripped over each other in their haste to quit the tent. Robert managed to keep a stern face until they were gone. Then he dropped back into a chair, shaking with laughter. Ser Barristan Selmy chuckled with him. Even Eddard Stark managed a smile. Always, though, the graver thoughts crept in. He could not help taking note of the two squires: handsome boys, fair and well made. One was Sansa's age, with long golden curls; the other perhaps fifteen, sandy-haired, with a wisp of a mustache and the emerald-green eyes of the queen. Tyrael shook his head and Joan raised a brow.

“Ah, I wish I could be there to see Santagar's face," Robert said. "I hope he'll have the wit to send them to someone else. We ought to keep them running all day!”

“Those boys," Ned asked him. "Lannisters?”

Robert nodded, wiping tears from his eyes. "Cousins. Sons of Lord Tywin's brother. One of the dead ones. Or perhaps the live one, now that I come to think of it. I don't recall. My wife comes from a very large family, Ned." 

‘A very ambitious family,’ Ned thought. He had nothing against the squires, but it troubled him to see Robert surrounded by the queen's kin, waking and sleeping. The Lannister appetite for offices and honors seemed to know no bounds. "The talk is you and the queen had angry words last night. “

The mirth curdled on Robert's face. "The woman tried to forbid me to fight in the melee. She's sulking in the castle now, damn her. Your sister would never have shamed me like that." 

“You never knew Lyanna as I did, Robert," Ned told him. "You saw her beauty, but not the iron underneath. She would have told you that you have no business in the melee."

" Oh, you mean like Joan, Arya and Sansa getting on my arse about it and the finals today.” Said Tyrael only to get slapped upside the head from Joan who scowled causing the older man to laugh.

"You too?" The king frowned. "You are a sour man, Stark. Too long in the north, all the juices have frozen inside you. Well, mine are still running. " He slapped his chest to prove it.

"You are the king," Ned reminded him.

"I sit on the damn iron seat when I must. Does that mean I don't have the same hunger as other men? A bit of wine now and again, a girl squealing in bed, the feel of a horse between my legs? Seven hells, Ned, I want to hit someone." Said the King as he was saying honestly he was done with being king.

Ser Barristan Selmy spoke up. "Your Grace," he said, "it is not seemly that the king should ride into the melee. It would not be a fair contest. Who would dare strike you?”

Robert seemed honestly taken aback. "Why, all of them, damn it. If they can. And the last man left standing…” Tyrael then said: " It would be between us your majesty. Everyone in the seven kingdoms would never dare raise a sword against you, but I'm not from the seven kingdoms.”

This stunned Joan, Barrestrn and Ned, while Robert looked at him before smiling and let out a Harry laugh and slapped his knees: “I hear the truth behind your words boy. You show no fear, nor do you care if I am the king or not. You see me as a simple man who sits on the most gods awful piece of furniture " 

“Yeah, that thing is uglier than anything I've ever seen. Who in the hell thought that would be a good idea. I know no sane Smith or carpenter would dare make that thing." Said Tyrael and the King laughed with a nod.

The King sighed and poured a goblet to Ned and Barristan and the man said: “Damn you, Ned Stark. You and Jon Arryn, I loved you both. What have you done to me? You were the one who should have been king, you or Jon.”

“You had the better claim, Your Grace.” Replied Ned.

The King scowled and said: “You made me king, you could at least have the courtesy to listen when I talk, damn you. Look at me, Ned. Look at what kinging has done to me. Gods, too fat for my armor, how did it ever come to this? I swear to you, I was never so alive as when I was winning this throne, or so dead as now that I've won it. And Cersei…I have Jon Arryn to thank for her. I had no wish to marry after Lyanna was taken from me, but Jon said the realm needed an heir. Cersei Lannister would be a good match, he told me, she would bind Lord Tywin to me should Viserys Targaryen ever try to win back his father's throne. " 

The king shook his head. "I loved that old man, I swear it, but now I think he was a bigger fool than Moon Boy. Oh, Cersei is lovely to look at, truly, but cold… the way she guards her cunt, you'd think she had all the gold of Casterly Rock between her legs. Here, give me that beer if you won't drink it. " He took the horn, upended it, belched, wiped his mouth. "I am sorry for your girl, Ned. Truly. About the wolf, I mean. My son was lying, I'd stake my soul on it. My son... you love your children, don't you?”

"With all my heart," Ned said as he sipped his drink and said: “I have the gods to thank for them and Tyrael.becoming part of my family. My wife, accepted Joanna, my daughters no longer arguing, the gods spared my boy from being a crippled." 

" Let me tell you a secret, Ned. More than once, I have dreamed of giving up the crown. Take ship for the Free Cities with my horse and my hammer, spend my time warring and whoring, that's what I was made for. The sellsword king, how the singers would love me. You know what stops me? The thought of Joffrey on the throne, with Cersei standing behind him whispering in his ear. My son. How could I have made a son like that, Ned?” Said Robert as he clenched his fist.

“It's not your fault, your majesty, a child could be influenced by many things, and those things can bring out something within. I hate to say this, well… not really. But I see how Joffrey looks and acts, the way he sees himself above others, probably even the gods. But I saw a mad gleam in his eyes, a dark veil gleam of madness showing. It will grow and fester once he's been named king, his mind will run like a rabid animal and anyone who dares aid him will see it as them trying to undermine him.” Said Tyrael.

Robert sighed and said: “Your right lad, your right. If Joffrey ever was to die, Myrcella would take the throne. I was blessed for her and Tommen. Both are kind and loving. Though Tommen could man up. But Myrcella, she is quite naive.”

He slammed his drink down and slapped Ned on the back. "Ah, say that I'm a better king than Aerys and be done with it. You never could lie for love nor honor, Ned Stark. I'm still young, and now that you're here with me, things will be different. We'll make this a reign to sing of, and damn the Lannisters to seven hells. I smell bacon. Who do you think our champion will be today? Have you seen Mace Tyrell's boy? The Knight of Flowers, they call him. Now there's a son any man would be proud to own. Last tourney, he dumped the Kingslayer on his golden rump, you ought to have seen the look on Cersei's face. I laughed till my sides hurt. Renly says he has this sister, a maid of fourteen, lovely as a dawn…” Tyrael chuckled and said: " Oh yes, I've seen her. But she is just as beautiful as she is dangerous. She is a rose after all “

Joan gave Tyrael a glare and Robert laughed as Barristan chuckled and Ned looked to his adopted son. They broke their fast on black bread and boiled goose eggs and fish fried up with onions and bacon, at a trestle table by the river's edge. The king's melancholy melted away with the morning mist, and before long Robert was eating an orange and waxing fond about a morning at the Eyrie when they had been boys. " …had given Jon a barrel of oranges, remember? Only the things had gone rotten, so I flung mine across the table and hit Dacks right in the nose. You remember, Redfort's pock-faced squire? He tossed one back at me, and before Jon could so much as fart, there were oranges flying across the High Hall in every direction. " He laughed uproariously, and even Ned smiled, remembering.

“Sounds like my kind of party." Said Tyrael as he ignored the fish. 

He didn't like fish all that much, had a pet fish once and his uncle ended up cooking it and said he was hungry. Though Ned smiled as this was the boy he had grown up with, he thought; this was the Robert Baratheon he'd known and loved. If he could prove that the Lannisters were behind the attack on Bran, prove that they had murdered Jon Arryn, this man would listen. Then Cersei would fall, and the Kingslayer with her, and if Lord Tywin dared to rouse the west, Robert would smash him as he had smashed Rhaegar Targaryen on the Trident. He could see it all so clearly. That breakfast tasted better than anything Eddard Stark had eaten in a long time, and afterward his smiles came easier and more often, until it was time for the tournament to resume.

Tyrael soon stood garbed in his armor as he was ready. As he spotted Ned taking a seat with his daughters as Sansa was so engrossed she scarcely seemed to notice his arrival. Sandor Clegane was the first rider to appear. He wore an olive- green cloak over his soot-grey armor. That, and his hound's-head helmet, were his only concession to ornament. 

“A hundred golden dragons on the Kingslayer," Littlefinger announced loudly as Jaime Lannister entered the lists, riding an elegant blood bay destrier. The horse wore a blanket of gilded ringmail, and Jaime glittered from head to heel. Even his lance was fashioned from the golden wood of the Summer Isles.

“Done," Lord Renly shouted back. "The Hound has a hungry look about him this morning. “

Sandor Clegane dropped his visor with an audible clang and took up his position. Ser Jaime tossed a kiss to some woman in the commons, gently lowered his visor, and rode to the end of the lists. Both men couched their lances. Tyrael watched and knew one way or the other justice will come. His golden eyes shined behind his helm’s face mask and soon it ended as he felt someone come up from behind. He saw it was the queen wearing a hood and he bows and says: “My Queen, I thought you would be at the castle." 

“Yes, well I desire to see you boy… and here is a token of luck from me." She said as she bent down and started to pull something down and placed it in his hand and he felt the wet moistness and stickiness and she leaned and said: “I fiddle with myself longing for you Daddy please come see your previous daughter soon, I don't want to be alone." 

He gave a beastly growl and said: “I'll come soon my dear, for now join your family. Though I can not give you the crown of love and beauty. But I shall reward you if you behave.”

He smacked her ass and he whispered: " Perhaps I should fuck you alongside a sleeping king ng and put a bastard in you.*

She shuddered and gasped feeling her clitoris pinched and he saidV “Good you're letting the hair grow for me to grab. Keep it trimmed evenly so I have something to grab when you need punishment." 

She nodded and walked off as a trail of arousal leaked down her thigh. He noticed in his hand was a pair of silk red panties with a large wet spot and he tucked the fabric deep into his armor. Ned Stark would have loved nothing so well as to see them both lose, but Sansa was watching it all moist-eyed and eager. The hastily erected gallery trembled as the horses broke into a gallop. The Hound leaned forward as he rode, his lance rock steady, but Jaime shifted his seat deftly in the instant before impact. Clegane's point was turned harmlessly against the golden shield with the lion blazon, while his own hit square. 

Wood shattered, and the Hound reeled, fighting to keep his seat. Sansa gasped. A ragged cheer went up from the commons. Tyrael raised a brow and saw Joan and Arya frowning and Sansa gasped for the hound. Shaking his head he focused on the match.

“I wonder how I ought to spend your money," Littlefinger called down to Lord Renly.

Tyrael noticed Cersei joining her family who had the Emperor seated with them as the other lords and family had their own booths watching the spectacle. For now he didn't care about them, he saw the Vipers watching and looked displeased. As The Hound just managed to stay in his saddle. He jerked his mount around hard and rode back to the lists for the second pass. Jaime Lannister tossed down his broken lance and snatched up a fresh one, jesting with his squire. The Hound spurred forward at a hard gallop. Lannister rode to meet him. 

This time, when Jaime shifted his seat, Sandor Clegane shifted with him. Both lances exploded, and by the time the splinters had settled, a riderless blood bay was trotting off in search of grass while Ser Jaime Lannister rolled in the dirt, golden and dented. Tyrael saw Cersei looked worried for her brother, but not like a liver, just a concerned sibling. Turning, Tyrael adjusted and checked his horse, Shadowmere and he whispered: “Let's show them death, Shadow." 

The horse gave a beastly grunt in satisfaction. Tyrael mounted and rose off. By then Ser Gregor Clegane was in position at the head of the lists. He was huge, the biggest man that Eddard Stark had ever seen. Robert Baratheon and his brothers were all big men, as was the Hound, and back at Winterfell there was a simple-minded stableboy named Hodor who dwarfed them all, but the knight they called the Mountain That Rides would have towered over Hodor. He was well over seven feet tall, closer to eight, with massive shoulders and arms thick as the trunks of small trees. 

His destrier seemed like a pony in between his armored legs, and the lance he carried looked as small as a broom handle. Unlike his brother, Ser Gregor did not live at court. He was a solitary man who seldom left his own lands, but for wars and tourneys. He had been with Lord Tywin when King's Landing fell, a new-made knight of seventeen years, even then distinguished by his size and his implacable ferocity. Some said it had been Gregor who'd dashed the skull of the infant prince Aegon Targaryen against a wall, and whispered that afterward he had raped the mother, the Dornish princess Elia, before putting her to the sword. These things were not said in Gregor's hearing.

But Ned looked to see Tyrael emerged and Elisif looked worried about her Thane. Tyrael rolled his shoulders and his horse snarled. Though Ned Stark could not recall ever speaking to the man, though Gregor had ridden with them during Balon Greyjoy's rebellion, one knight among thousands. He watched him with disquiet. Ned seldom put much stock in gossip, but the things said of Ser Gregor were more than ominous. He was soon to be married for the third time, and one heard dark whisperings about the deaths of his first two wives. 

It was said that his keep was a grim place where servants disappeared unaccountably and even the dogs were afraid to enter the hall. And there had been a sister who had died young under queer circumstances, and the fire that had disfigured his brother, and the hunting accident that had killed their father. Gregor had inherited the keep, the gold, and the family estates. His younger brother Sandor had left the same day to take service with the Lannisters as a sworn sword, and it was said that he had never returned, not even to visit. The crow burst into cheers as Tyrael's land was made of a black wood with a red tip.

Sansa looked to her father with her eyes begging: “Father, don't let Ser Gregor hurt him.”

"These are tourney lances," he told his daughter. "They make them splinter on impact, so no one is hurt. " Yet he remembered the dead boy in the cart with his cloak of crescent moons, and the words were raw in his throat. Then he remembered Tyrael was more sturdier and resilient then most armor. As Ser Gregor eyes Tyrael who eyed back and his eyes were golden. Then suddenly it began, as the Mountain's stallion broke in a hard gallop, plunging forward wildly, while Shadowmere lunged and moved with just as much speed as it always has. Before the mountain knew it just as he moved his lance, Tyrael was upon him and his lance pierced through the armor in an eye blink the Mountain was failing. He was so huge that he took his horse down with him in a tangle of steel and flesh.

Ned heard applause, cheers, whistles, shocked gasps, excited muttering, and over it all the rasping, raucous laughter of the Hound. But the loudest came from the Martell's seeing the mountain defeated. He looked to Elia Sand who was the loudest alongside her uncle and had a look of pure satisfaction. As everyone saw Tyrael’s Lance was not broken and the mountain's armor had a massive hole in it but no blood. In the middle of the field, Ser Gregor Clegane disentangled himself and came boiling to his feet. He wrenched off his helm and slammed it down onto the ground. 

His face was dark with fury and his hair fell down into his eyes. "My sword," he shouted to his squire, and the boy ran it out to him. 

By then his stallion was back on its feet as well. Gregor Clegane killed the horse with a single blow of such ferocity that it half severed the animal's neck. Cheers turned to shrieks in a heartbeat. The stallion went to its knees, screaming as it died. By then Gregor was striding down the lists toward Tyrael, his bloody sword clutched in his fist. 

"Stop him!" Ned shouted, but his words were lost in the roar. 

Everyone else was yelling as well, and Sansa was crying. Tyrael discounted and smacked Shadowmere to send it off and the mountain rushed Tyrael who sprinted surprising everyone. As Gregor swung back Tyrael sucked and died under him before kicking off the ground and slammed a punch into the man denting his helmet. This surprised everyone. Gregor swung wide and Tyrael raised an arm to block the blade. Blade met arm and the blade shattered on contact shocking everyone. Tyrael spun around and jumped, bringing his leg out and kicking the mountain down with a roundhouse kick, the mountain fell and Tyrael grabbed the man's broken sword and poised it at his neck and said: “Your move." 

The mountain stared into the eye holes and saw the burning golden color and his eyes widened behind his helmet, before him was not a man, but a massive storm that had a dark shadow, and the mat storm opened to reveal a massive black dragon with a crown made of the storm itself. The dragon was massive, almost as big as a mountain itself and was ready to kill him. But the man roared ready to attack but a voice shouted: "STOP THIS MADNESS, IN THE NAME OF YOUR KING!" 

Tyrael backed off and tossed the broken blade far aside and as the mountain stood. Wordlessly, he turned and strode off, shoving past Barristan Selmy. "Let him go," Robert said, and as quickly as that, it was over.

Tyrael smirked, his lance coated with a poison that seeped through the skin. Gregor would not survive the night as when the journey's end everyone would leave, it was then the hound forfeited not wishing to face the one who beaten his brother in pure raw strength, agility and more.That afternoon a boy named Anguy, an unheralded commoner from the Dornish Marches, won the archery competition, outshooting Ser Balon Swann and Jalabhar Xho at a hundred paces after all the other bowmen had been eliminated at the shorter distances. Ned sent Alyn to seek him out and offer him a position with the Hand's guard, but the boy was flush with wine and victory and riches undreamed of, and he refused. Though Tyrael was asked why he didn't join and he mentioned he didn't have his good now with him, plus his other bows were not suited for friendly competition. The melee went on for three hours. Nearly forty men took part, freeriders and hedge knights and new-made squires in search of a reputation. They fought with blunted weapons in a chaos of mud and blood, small troops fighting together and then turning on each other as alliances formed and fractured, until only one man was left standing. 

The victor would have been the red priest, Thoros of Myr, a madman who shaved his head and fought with a flaming sword. He had won melees before; the fire sword frightened the mounts of the other riders, and nothing frightened Thoros. Except when Tyrael grabbed the sword and everyone watched in awe that the armor didn't catch fire as if it was immune to it and the madman was knocked unconscious with one punch. The final tally was three broken limbs, a shattered collarbone, a dozen smashed fingers, two horses that had to be put down, and more cuts, sprains, and bruises than anyone cared to count. Ned was desperately pleased that Robert had not taken part. Emperor Titus Mede had announced that the Imperial Dragon Knights armor was made to be highly resistant to flames and heat, also the fact he secretly also wore enchanted items under the armor to do that was never known.

By the end of it, Tyrael had won sixty thousand dragons. And he just tossed it to the crowd who scampered to claim as he said he only joined the tourney to test himself, he didn't join for the wealth and didn't need it. Far and wide the name of Ser Tyrael Septum the charitable would be heard. But as people were enjoying the finals of the festivities someone, a squire Gregory shouted: “Help, help, someone help!. It's Ser Gregor, he's collapsed and it is violently shaking on the ground!" 

Knights scrambled to the scene and everyone saw by Gregory’s tent the mountain collapsed spasming as his eyes were bleeding as was his ears, nose and mouth. But what horrified them the most was the massive blood stain on his crotch. Elia who had come with her Uncle saw this and both looked on and looked to Tyrael who was watching far away with a smirk on them sipping from a pouch that contained water and he walked away. Elia whispered to her uncle and said: “He… he killed him… how?”

Just then a physician checked him over and saw the massive veins on the man's lips: " Ser Gregor has been poisoned. The poison caused bleeding from not just his eyes, nose, mouth and ears, but from his cock and arse. But also caused his balls to expand and burst.”

Word spread of Gregory's gruesome death, many looked to Tyrael and checked his lance but found no trace, but they found traces on the tankard Ser Gregor grabbed from his things and all his squires were nowhere near the man’s tent so it meant an assassin had done the deed. Sitting off as the feast would soon be, Tyrael sat within his tent as he smirked while fixing himself a cup of tea and said: “I was wondering when the serpents would come. Though I must say, it took you all long enough. And don't worry about little spies, I have ways of making sure they won't find out." 

As Oberyn Martell, Elia Sand and Arianne Martell stepped inside they noticed the gent was set up for a meeting with small tables in front of the chairs and he then said: “Tea? I find it soothing after a hard day, especially if it's sweet and cold " 

He sipped his tea and sighed and said: “Just like home." 

" Who are you exactly?” Said Oberyn.

" Why, a dragon from a distant land of course." He replied as his eyes shifted, scaring them and shifted back.

He looked and said: “Elia Sand, funny for you to use your mother's name to hide yourself Rhaenys." 

Elia’s eyes widened and said: “H… How… just what are you?”

" Like I said, you're a dragon, and as for how I knew, why your half sister has the same strand as you, though she is like her mother.” Said Tyrael as he sat.

“I have no…” started Elia till Joan entered the tent behind Tyrael and the three stopped and looked at her closely. Many believed she was the daughter of Ashara Dayne, but the strand, that strand, the same strand as Elia was profound. But on his hip, a Valyrian sword, Elia felt drawn as if something within her resonated. Tyrael sipped his tea once again and he said: “Allow me to properly introduce Joanna Snow-Start, supposed bastard daughter of Eddard Stark and Ashara Dayne but truly Visenya Targaryen, daughter of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, your half sister.”

Elia took a seat with her cousin on her left and her uncle on her right and Tyrael handed them tea and took his seat with Joanna by his side. Tyrael sipped his own tea and Joanna then said: “Sister Ink knows how this looks but .." Elia.clenched her fist and said: “Why… why did… why did we….” Tyrael answered: " Why did your father sire another child? I came up with some things… one he feared that your mother with how well known sickly she was would die and leave you and your brother without a mother and she agreed on Lyanna as she saw her as a good friend and even had a liking for her. Two is that as a dragon your father was greedy and wanted another wife, that his interests had him pursue and gained Lyanna Stark’s heart. There is one you do not want to hear.”

Elia clenched her fist and she felt her causing Arianna to place a hand on her shoulder calming her and the Princess of Dorne asked: " Why now? Why not sooner?”

" The Spider… Tyrael can only give us so much breathing room against his spies with magic." Said Joan as Tyrael snapped his fingers and a small flame ignited.

The trio looked surprised and Elia/Rhaenys asked: “Where you…” Tyrael nodded and said: " Poisoned him, why he's… a unique poison that seeps into the skin. Mainly used on assassinations for known rapists who had political backing to keep them out of prison. I'd figure I would want to see him die as a eunuch since….* oberyn then spoke: “Since he raped my sister and killed Aegon." 

“Yes, I despised killing children and raping of woman. I'd prefer a willing partner, more fun." Said Tyrael as he finished his tea and Oberyn chuckled while the girls looked to Tyrael and the red viper asked: “But why call yourself the dragon." 

“Because, you didn't think the Valyrian were the only ones with dragons in their blood… oh no, Cyrodiil’s empire was built upon those who are dragons. Saint Alessia the first, Reman Cyrodiil and his line and the Septum Dynasty all Dragon blood or as we call them Dragonborn. Those who are born with the blood and soul of a dragon.” Said Tyrael.

“Can you believe that?" Asked Arianna.

“Oh I do, though Elia has the blood, she doesn't have the soul as she was not blessed by Lord Akatosh who I discovered in Westeros and Essos to his worshipers is called R’hllor. I saw the symbols representing his elven name Auri-El with the sun and the marking of various things and knew who that was after reading a few texts. Must say quite intriguing.” Said Tyrael.

"You believed to be blessed by…" Said Oberyn and Tyrael pulled out a sunlight torch and breathed fire fighting them Oberyn then said: “Okay, I stand corrected. But let me ask you Ser Tyrael, what do you make out of this?" 

“Honestly… I don't want anything…" This surprised the Dornish as he continued: “In Tamriel I am the wealthiest person, I am welcomed in most courts, I am a well known hero, I have many homes from simple lodges to manor and have my own legion of warriors. Yet I don't want anything… well except to see the wind or the guilty pay.*

That night as Tyrael remained away from the feast he stood by the docks as the Imperial Legion would return to Cyrodiil. Victoria had landed trade deals in the kingdoms and would send ships and such to build warehouses or buy a warehouse and start dispersing goods. An agreement meant that the septum would be remaining as it is princess in Tamriel meaning no price cuts. Tyrael had seen them off and was given orders by Tullius to do what must be done. But as he entered a luxury inn he ordered a drink and felt a hand glued on his shoulder and he said: “Lady Arianna, the pleasure. Wish to no more about Joanna." 

“No, I wish to know about you… you are truly a specimen among men." She replied 

Arianna was a buxom and beautiful, with olive skin, large dark eyes and long, thick black hair that fell in ringlets to the middle of her back. She has full lips, a husky voice, and round ripe breasts. She giggled and said: “My family owes you a debt, my good user, and I would like to repay it." 

“Oh, in what way." He replied downing his tankard.

Arianna giggled and grabbed his hand and guided him up the stairs, Tyrael caught the eye of Oberyn who stared at him before they were out of sight. Entering a room, Tyrael looked around and saw pillows laid about and soon he heard the door locked and her husky voice saying: “Why don't we have some fun.”

He turned and saw the Sand sisters that are old enough as well as Arianna. All throughout the night pleasures and cries of females begging could be heard with the grunt of a male. By morning the oldest of the sisters and Arianna laid on the mess of pillows with eyes rolled and scattered about with their holes filled to the brim with his seed. Though one was curled up to Tyrael, and that was Rhaenys herself who sighed and she was just as stuffed, only she as curled into Tyrael’s side who was asleep after our fucking the girls with ease. He smirked as he slept and thought: ‘Three Dragoness. Noice.’

Notes:

Yeah no lemon this chapter massive group lemons will not be a thing. Thus the Targaryen line are now under Tyrael's beck.

Chapter 17: The Dragon Begins to Emerge

Summary:

Conflict and hatred, a source to awaken a true dragon. Attacking those he treasure is a death most will expect.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Entering the council chamber after having last one round of a group fuck with the Princess of Dorne and Elia he heard the conversation was very, very heated. And it seemed like it was going to be an unpleasant one. Tyrael was allowed to come and go as he was technically an ambassador of sorts within King’s Landing and would oversee the Empire’s operations. Though that was a lie, his only mission is to do what he does best.

“Robert, I beg of you," Ned pleaded, "hear what you are saying. You are talking of murdering a child.”

"The whore is pregnant!" The king's fist slammed down on the council table loud as a thunderclap. "I warned you this would happen, Ned. Back in the barrowlands, I warned you, but you did not care to hear it. Well, you'll hear it now. I want them dead, mother and child both, and that fool Viserys as well. Is that plain enough for you? I want them dead." 

The other councillors were all doing their best to pretend that they were somewhere else. No doubt they were wiser than he was. Eddard Stark had seldom felt quite so alone. "You will dishonor yourself forever if you do this.”

"Then let it be on my head, so long as it is done. I am not so blind that I cannot see the shadow of the axe when it is hanging over my own neck." Shouted Ned trying to reason with his friend.

“There is no axe," Ned told his king. "Only the shadow of a shadow, twenty years removed… if it exists at all. “

“If?" Varys asked softly, wringing powdered hands together. "My lord, you wrong me. Would I bring ties to the king and council?”

Ned looked at the eunuch coldly. "You would bring us the whisperings of a traitor half a world away, my lord. Perhaps Mormont is wrong. Perhaps he is lying." 

Tyrael then said: “Or perhaps the spider is weaving the webs of lies himself. A spider weaves their web as they desire to suit their environment. How do we know if the Spider's words are true, or he is not aiding Viserys Targaryen himself by acting for the bigger king." 

" I would dare not. Ser Jorah would not dare deceive me," Varys said with a sly smile. "Rely on it, my lord. The princess is with child.”

"So you say. If you are wrong, we need not fear. If the girl miscarries, we need not fear. If she births a daughter in place of a son, we need not fear. If the baby dies in infancy, we need not fear." Said a council member.

"But if it is a boy?" Robert insisted. "If he lives? The narrow sea would still lie between us. I shall fear the Dothraki the day they teach their horses to run on water.”

" Be careful of your words King Robert, in Tamriel there are Kelpies, half fish, half horses. If the Dothraki gain these then they can ride to Westeros without anyone knowing.” Said Tyrael, though he would never allow anything happened to Dany, ever.

The king took a swallow of wine and glowered at Ned across the council table. "So you would counsel me to do nothing until the dragonspawn has landed his army on my shores, is that it? And you, why did you say such a thing?" 

“Best be wise of a potential attack my lord, then do not expect such a thing." Said Tyrael.

"This ‘dragonspawn' is in his mother's belly," Ned said. "Even Aegon did not conquer until after he was weaned.”

" There is the possibility that Viserys' sister does not even desire the ugly thing. She probably learned of her father and how miserable her mother was and decided against her brother.” Said Tyrael.

Littlefinger then said: " That is a possibility.”

" I'd rather they all be dead. But Gods! You are stubborn as an aurochs, Stark. " The king looked around the council table. "Have the rest of you mislaid your tongues? Will no one talk sense to this frozen-faced fool? Or this child?" 

Varys gave the king an unctuous smile and laid a soft hand on Ned's sleeve. "I understand your qualms, Lord Eddard, truly I do. It gave me no joy to bring this grievous news to the council. It is a terrible thing we contemplate, a vile thing. Yet we who presume to rule must do vile things for the good of the realm, however much it pains us.”

“I'll say, the murder of a child is a heinous crime in Tamriel. Not even the Dominion would dare violate this law as the gods always strike with vengeance as the one who did bring plagues and famine in their wake, their family dead, and they suffer years and tears of torment only to never be able to die.” Said Tyrael.

Lord Renly shrugged. "The matter seems simple enough to me. We ought to have had Viserys and his sister killed years ago, but His Grace, my brother , made the mistake of listening to Jon Arryn." 

"Mercy is never a mistake, Lord Renly," Ned replied. "On the Trident, Ser Barristan here cut down a dozen good men, Robert's friends and mine. When they brought him to us, grievously wounded and near death, Roose Bolton urged us to cut his throat, but your brother said, ‘I will not kill a man for loyalty, nor for fighting well,' and sent his own maester to tend Ser Barristan's wounds. " He gave the king a long cool look. "Would that man be here today?”

Robert was ashamed enough to blush. "It was not the same," he complained. "Ser Barristan was a knight of the Kingsguard.”

" And yet you showed the one strength the mad king lacked, your majesty, you listened and showed compassion to a child. If you had killed them, then all the Kingdom would have thought you to be the next tyrant.” Said Tyrael as the room fell dead silent.

Ned then spoke breaking the silence: “Daenerys is a fourteen-year-old girl. " Ned knew he was pushing this well past the point of wisdom, yet he could not keep silent. "Robert, I ask you, what did we rise against Aerys Targaryen for, if not to put an end to the murder of children?”

“To put an end to Targaryens!" the king growled.

"Your Grace, I never knew you to fear Rhaegar. " Ned fought to keep the scorn out of his voice, and failed. "Have the years been so unmanned that you tremble at the shadow of an unborn child?”

Robert purpled. "No more, Ned," he warned, pointing. "Not another word. Have you forgotten who is king here?”

"No, Your Grace," Ned replied. "Have you?”

"Enough!" the king bellowed. "I am sick of talking. I'll be done with this, or be damned. What do you all say?”

"She must be killed," Lord Renly declared with a serious look.

"We have no choice," murmured Varys. "Sadly, sadly…” Ser Barristan Selmy raised his pale blue eyes from the table and said, "Your Grace, there is honor in facing an enemy on the battlefield, but none in killing him in his mother's womb. Forgive me, but I must stand with Lord Eddard." 

Grand Maester Pycelle cleared his throat, a process that seemed to take some minutes. "My order serves the realm, not the ruler. Once I counseled King Aerys as loyally as I counsel King Robert now, so I bear this girl child of his no ill will. Yet I ask you this—should war come again, how many soldiers will die? How many towns will burn? How many children will be ripped from their mothers to perish on the end of a spear?" He stroked his luxuriant white beard, infinitely sad, infinitely weary. "Is it not wiser, even kinder, that Daenerys Targaryen should die now so that tens of thousands might live?”

"Kinder," Varys said. "Oh, well and truly spoken, Grand Maester. It is so true. Should the gods in their caprice grant Daenerys Targaryen a son, the realm must bleed." 

“Or if the gods decided that killing a child would bring all of mankind to extinction. A war, there is no winner, only the guilty and the dead. On one side we have murderers who will always be murderers no matter how you label it. On the other we have the dead, a dead child, a dead mother who most likely was sold like cattle. I am against murdering a child your majesty, I am sorry but I've put down more bastards that I care to admit who killed children for their own laughs and used their skulls as tankards.”

The cold seriousness in his voice showed he was not lying about it and it unnerved everyone. Littlefinger was the last. As Ned looked to him, Lord Petyr stifled a yawn. "When you find yourself in bed with an ugly woman, the best thing to do is close your eyes and get on with it," he declared. "Waiting won't make the maid any prettier. Kiss her and be done with it." 

"Kiss her?" Ser Barristan repeated, aghast.

"A steel kiss," said Littlefinger.

Robert turned to face his Hand. "Well, there it is, Need. You and Selmy stand alone on this matter. The only question that remains is, who can we find to kill her?”

“Mormont craves a royal pardon," Lord Renly reminded them.

"Desperately," Varys said, "yet he craves life even more. By now, the princess nears Vaes Dothrak, where it is death to draw a blade. If I told you what the Dothraki would do to the poor man who used one on a khaleesi, none of you would sleep tonight. " He stroked a powdered cheek. "Now, poison… the tears of Lys, let us say. Khal Drogo never knew it was not a natural death.”

Grand Maester Pycelle's sleepy eyes flicked open. He squinted suspiciously at the eunuch as did Tyrael and Ned. Thus Ned had heard enough. "You send hired knives to kill a fourteen-year-old girl and still quibble about honor?" He pushed back his chair and stood. "Do it yourself, Robert. The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. Look her in the eyes before you kill her. See her tears, hear her last words. You owe her that much at least." 

"Gods," the king swore, the word exploding out of him as if he could barely contain his fury. "You mean it, damn you. " He reached for the flagon of wine at his elbow, found it empty, and flung it away to shatter against the wall. "I am out of wine and out of patience. Enough of this. Just have it done.”

“I will not be part of murder, Robert. Do as you will, but do not ask me to fix my seal to it.” Said Ned.

For a moment Robert did not seem to understand what Ned was saying. Defiance was not a dish he tasted often. Slowly his face changed as comprehension came. His eyes narrowed and a flush crept up his neck past the velvet collar. He pointed an angry finger at Ned. "You are the King's Hand, Lord Stark. You will do as I command you, or I'll find a Hand who will." 

"I wish him every success. " Ned unfastened the heavy clasp that clutched at the folds of his cloak, the ornate silver hand that was his badge of office. He laid it on the table in front of the king, saddened by the memory of the man who had pinned it on him, the friend he had loved. "I thought you were a better man than this, Robert. I thought we had made a nobler king.”

Robert's face was purple. "Out," he croaked, choking on his rage. "Out, damn you, I'm done with you. What are you waiting for? Go, run back to Winterfell. And make certain I never look on your face again, or I swear, I'll have your head on a spike! And you both, that goes double for you!”

Tyrael slammed the door behind them causing it to come off its hinges and the duo began to walk away. As Tyrael and Eddard stormed away, a privacy bubble surrounded them and Tyrael.said: “Fucking mental…” Ned then asked: " Is she?”

" You honestly think, I'd let someine be raped daily, no, I handed her a powerful mental drug, anyone with even a speck of knowledge within magic could break out of it. Drogo is under the illusion as is everyone else. Though I'll have a way to help Dany when it's time. You're taking a large risk father. Joanna, I know she knows she is on very thin ice around her, but…” they stopped talking as someone walked directly in their space and continued on as he finished: "The storm consumes all. If need be, I'll head to Essos and join her side to protect her. Arya, Sansa and Joan… they'll not like that.”

" No they won't.” Said Ned as he then said as they entered his solar: " But it must be done.”

" To Oblivion with the fucking court, if an Oblivion Gate opened right in the keep Id focus only saving the civilians and putting much distance between me and this place.” Said Tyrael as Ned smiled.

As Ned summoned Vayon Poole. The steward came at once. "You sent for me, my lord Hand?”

" Hand no longer," Ned told him. "The king and I have quarreled. We shall be returning to Winterfell. “

"I shall begin making arrangements at once, my lord. We will need a fortnight to prepare everything for the journey. “ Asked Vayon.

“No need…” said Tyrael, pulling out his beacon and saying: "My ship will be waiting for us in the harbour.”

Tyrael looked to Ned and saw the man frowning. He did not truly believe the king would harm him, not Robert. He was angry now, but once Ned was safely out of sight, his rage would cool as it always did. Always? Suddenly, uncomfortably, he found himself recalling Rhaegar Targaryen. Fifteen years dead, yet Robert hates him as much as ever. It was a disturbing notion… and there was the other matter, the business with Catelyn and the dwarf that Yoren had warned him of last night. That would come to light soon, as sure as sunrise, and with the king in such a black fury.

“It might be safest if I went on ahead," he told Poole. "I will take my daughters and a few guardsmen. The rest of you can follow when you are ready. Inform Jory, but tell no one else, and do nothing until the girls and I have gone. The castle is full of eyes and ears, and I would rather my plans were not known.”

The Steward bowed and accepted this. When he had gone, Eddard Stark went to the window and sat brooding. Robert had left him no choice that he could see. He ought to thank him. It would be good to return to Winterfell. He ought never have left. His sons were waiting there. Perhaps he and Catelyn would make a new son together when he returned, they were not so old yet. And of late he had often found himself dreaming of snow, of the deep quiet of the wolfswood at night. Tyrael then said: “I have a feeling the Omen is close to coming true. I'll speak with the girls and explain what has happened." 

The man nodded and asked he walked out, Tyrael saw little finger heading for the door. Snarling when the man wasn't looking he found the girls chambers. Later bursting through the hands chambers was Tyrael with the Starks sisters behind him as they saw Robert Stark in bed covered in linen wraps and Pycelle tending to him. Tyrael asked: “What happened?" 

" Jaime Lannister… he…” said Eddard as he winced and Tyrael frowned and said: "Girls stay here.”

He turned to leave but the girls glomped on him and Joanna said: " Are you mad, you would attack the commander of the golden cloaks.”

"He attacked first… besides, I'm gonna break him, not kill him." Said Tyrael.

“No… Tyrael… stay…protect the girls. I've lost three good men." Said Ned.

Just then a flashing light in his pocket and he pulled it out showing the beacon and he said: “The Dev Aveza has arrived. Shit… Joan, take Arya to my ship, use Epona to get there. Once on the ship, tell them to get you both back to Winterfell.”

Joan then asked: " What are you saying!”

"Your father can not leave right now and if Sansa leaves they'll start asking questions. As for me, I am the ambassador to the empire, I have to stay. The King can not touch me, if he does, all of King’s landing would be set ablaze.” Said Tyrael.

The sisters remained silent and Eddard said: " Joan… get… Arya to safety. Arya… please, go home." 

Ghostess and Lady whined and Sansa kneeled before her wolf and asked her to watch her sisters and she nodded.

Tyrael sat in his chambers, eyes flared like flames. He had just sent a message to Delphine to prepare the Dragonguard for deployment. At least one hundred blades and five Dragonguard. Laying down, his mind began to dream of walking to Dany and he muttered: “I hope you're safe." 

The Horse Gate of Vaes Dothrak was made of two gigantic bronze stallions, rearing, their hooves meeting a hundred feet above the roadway to form a pointed arch. Dany could not have said why the city needed a gate when it had no walls... and no buildings that she could see. Yet there it stood, immense and beautiful, the great horses framing the distant purple mountain beyond. The bronze stallions threw long shadows across the waving grasses as Khal Drogo led the khalasar under their hooves and down the godsway, his bloodriders beside him. Dany followed on her silver, escorted by Ser Jorah Mormont and her brother Viserys, mounted once more. After the day in the grass when she had left him to walk back to the khalasar, the Dothraki had laughingly called him Khal Rhae Mhar, the Barefoot King.

the next day, and Viserys had accepted. In his stubborn ignorance, he had not even known he was being mocked; the carts were for eunuchs, cripples, women giving birth, the very young and the very old. That won him yet another name: Khal Rhaggat, the Cart King. Her brother had thought it was the khal's way of apologizing for the wrong Dany had done to him. She had begged Ser Jorah not to tell him the truth, lest he be shamed. The knight had replied that the king could well do with a bit of shame… yet he had done as she bid. It had taken much pleading, and all the pillow tricks Doreah had taught her, before Dany had been able to make Drogo relent and allow Viserys to rejoin them at the head of the column.

“Where is the city?" she asked as they passed beneath the bronze arch. There were no buildings to be seen, no people, only the grass and the road, lined with ancient monuments from all the lands the Dothraki had sacked over the centuries.

“Ahead," Ser Jorah answered. "Under the mountain." 

Tyrael emerged beside her and said: “So… you've arrived… we need to talk once it's safe. It's… not good.”

She nodded, as beyond the horse gate, plundered gods and stolen heroes loomed to either side of them. The forgotten deities of dead cities brandished their broken thunderbolts at the sky as Dany rode her silver past their feet. Stone kings looked down on her from their thrones, their faces chipped and stained, even their names lost in the mists of time. Lithe young maidens danced on marble plinths, draped only in flowers, or poured air from shattered jars. Monsters stood in the grass beside the road; black iron dragons with jewels for eyes, roaring griffins, manticores with their barbed tails poised to strike, and other beasts she could not name. Some of the statues were so lovely they took her breath away, others so misshapen and terrible that Dany could scarcely bear to look at them. 

Those, Ser Jorah said, had likely come from the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai. 

“So many," she said as her silver stepped slowly onward, "and from so many lands." 

“More beautiful now that you're among them." Said Tyrael though he still had a hard look on his face. 

She blushed at his words and looked worried for her guardian. Viserys was less impressed. "The trash of dead cities," he sneered. He was careful to speak in the Common Tongue, which few Dothraki could understand, yet even so Dany found herself glancing back at the men of her khas, to make certain he had not been overheard. He went on blithely. "All these savages know how to do is steal the things better men have built . . . and kill. " He laughed. "They do know how to kill. Otherwise I'd have no use for them at all. “

“They are my people now," Dany said. "You should not call them savages, brother. “

The dragon speaks as he likes," Viserys said . . . in the Common Tongue. He glanced over his shoulder at Aggo and Rakharo, riding behind them, and favored them with a mocking smile. "See, the savages lack the wit to understand the speech of civilized men. " A moss-eaten stone monolith loomed over the road, fifty feet tall. Viserys gazed at it with boredom in his eyes. "How long must we linger amidst these ruins before Drogo gives me my army? I grow tired of waiting.”

"The princess must be presented to the dosh khaleen…” Tyrael nudged her, and gave her a water sack and said: “Drink this… it will act as if there is a child within you.”

“The crones, yes," her brother interrupted, "and there's to be some mummer's show of a prophecy for the whelp in her belly, you told me. What is that to me? I'm tired of eating horse meat and I'm sick of the stink of these savages. " He sniffed at the wide, floppy sleeve of his tunic, where it was his custom to keep a sachet. It could not have helped much. 

The tunic was filthy. All the silk and heavy wool that Viserys had worn out of Pentos were stained by hard travel and rotted from sweat. Ser Jorah Mormont said, "The Western Market will have food more to your taste, Your Grace. The traders from the Free Cities come there to sell their wares. The khal will honor his promise in his own time." 

"He had better," Viserys said grimly. "I was promised a crown, and I mean to have it. The dragon is not mocked. " Spying an obscene likeness of a woman with six breasts and a ferret's head, he rode off to inspect it more closely.

Dany was relieved, yet no less anxious. "I pray that my sun-and-stars will not keep him waiting too long," she told Ser Jorah when her brother was out of earshot then she drank from the pouch and for a moment she felt a bit bloated.

The knight looked after Viserys doubtfully. "Your brother should have bided his time in Pentos. There is no place for him in a khalasar. Illyrio tried to warn him." 

“For a spy, he isn't lying." Said Tyrael as he looked about and frowned, this place was setting his heritage off.

"He will go as soon as he has his ten thousand. My lord husband promised a golden crown." Said Dany playing the part 

Ser Jorah grunted. "Yes, Khaleesi, but… the Dothraki look at these things differently than we do in the west. I have told him as much, as Illyrio told him, but your brother does not listen. The horse lords are no traders. Viserys thinks he sold you, and now he wants his price. Yet Khal Drogo would say he had you as a gift. He will give Viserys a gift in return, yes… in his own time. You do not demand a gift, not of a khal. You do not demand anything of a khal. “

It is not right to make him wait. " Dany did not know why she was defending her brother, yet she was. "Viserys says he could sweep the Seven Kingdoms with ten thousand Dothraki screamers.”

Ser Jorah snorted. "Viserys could not sweep a stable with ten thousand brooms." 

Dany could not pretend to be surprised at the disdain in his tone. "What… what if it were not Viserys?" she asked. "If it were someone else who led them? Someone stronger? Could the Dothraki truly conquer the Seven Kingdoms?”

Ser Jorah's face grew thoughtful as their horses trod together down the godsway. "When I first went into exile, I looked at the Dothraki and saw half-naked barbarians, as wild as their horses. If you had asked me then, Princess, I should have told you that a thousand good knights would have no trouble putting to flight a hundred times as many Dothraki. “

She then asked him: “But if I asked you now?”

“Now," the knight said, "I am less certain. They are better riders than any knight, utterly fearless, and their bows outrange ours. In the Seven Kingdoms, most archers fight on foot, from behind a shieldwall or a barricade of sharpened stakes. The Dothraki fire from horseback, charging or retreating, it makes no matter, they are full as deadly . . . and there are so many of them, my lady. Your lord husband alone counts forty thousand mounted warriors in his khalasar. Though .. they're maybe one who could rival ten thousand alone. Ser Tyrael Septum. I have heard he had easily decimated the mountain in the Hand of the King's tourney from traveling merchants. But then I heard he grabbed a blade coated with Wildfire and did not burn, I feared that the only thing th Dothraki would never win against is that man. But as for the Dothraki, your brother Rhaegar brought as many men to the Trident," Ser Jorah admitted, "but of that number, no more than a tenth were knights. The rest were archers, freeriders, and foot soldiers armed with spears and pikes. When Rhaegar fell, many threw down their weapons and fled the field. How long do you imagine such a rabble would stand against the charge of forty thousand screamers howling for blood? How well would boiled leather jerkins and mailed shirts protect them when the arrows fall like rain?”

"Not long," she said, "not well." 

He nodded. "Mind you, Princess, if the lords of the Seven Kingdoms have the wit the gods gave a goose, it will never come to that. The riders have no taste for siegecraft. I doubt they could take even the weakest castle in the Seven Kingdoms, but if Robert Baratheon were fool enough to give them battle…”

“Is he?" Dany asked. "A fool, I mean?”

Ser Jorah considered that for a moment. "Robert should have been born Dothraki," he said at last. "Your khal would tell you that only a coward hides behind stone walls instead of facing his enemy with a blade in hand. The Usurper would agree. He is a strong man, brave… and rash enough to meet a Dothraki horde in the open field. But the men around him, well, their pipers play a different tune. His brother Stannis, Lord Tywin Lannister, Eddard Stark…” he spat at that name.

Tyrael growled, "You hate this Lord Stark," Dany said.

"He took from me all I loved, for the sake of a few lice-ridden poachers and his precious honor," Ser Jorah said bitterly. From his tone, she could tell the loss still pained him. He changed the subject quickly. "There," he announced, pointing. "Vaes Dothrak. The city of the horse lords.

Khal Drogo and his bloodriders led them through the great bazaar of the Western Market, down the broad ways beyond. Dany followed close on her silver, staring at the strangeness about her. Vaes Dothrak was at once the largest city and the smallest that she had ever known. She thought it must be ten times as large as Pentos, a vastness without walls or limits, its broad windswept streets paved in grass and mud and carpeted with wildflowers. In the Free Cities of the west, towers and manses and hovels and bridges and shops and halls all crowded in on one another, but Vaes Dothrak sprawled languorously, baking in the warm sun, ancient, arrogant, and empty. Tyrael then said: “Not bad." 

They all saw the buildings were so queer to her eyes. She saw carved stone pavilions, menses of woven grass as large as castles, rickety wooden towers, stepped pyramids faced with marble, log halls open to the sky. In place of walls, some palaces were surrounded by thorny hedges. "None of them are alike," she said.

"Your brother had part of the truth," Ser Jorah admitted. "The Dothraki do not build. A thousand years ago, to make a house, they would dig a hole in the earth and cover it with a woven grass roof. The buildings you see were made by slaves brought here from lands they've plundered, and they built each after the fashion of their own peoples. “

Most of the halls, even the largest, seemed deserted. "Where are the people who live here?" Dany asked. The bazaar had been full of running children and men shouting, but elsewhere she had seen only a few eunuchs going about their business.

"Only the crones of the dosh khaleen dwell permanently in the sacred city, them and their slaves and servants," Ser Jorah replied, "yet Vaes Dothrak is large enough to house every man of every khalasar, should all the khals return to the Mother at once. The crones have prophesied that one day that will come to pass, and so Vaes Dothrak must be ready to embrace all its children. “

Khal Drogo finally called a halt near the Eastern Market where the caravans from Yi Ti and Asshai and the Shadow Lands came to trade, with the Mother of Mountains looming overhead. Dany smiled as she recalled Magister Illyrio's slave girl and her talk of a palace with two hundred rooms and doors of solid silver. The "palace" was a cavernous wooden feasting hall, its rough-hewn timbered walls rising forty feet, its roof sewn silk, a vast billowing tent that could be raised to keep out the rare rains, or lowered to admit the endless sky. Around the hall were broad grassy horse yards fenced with high hedges, firepits, and hundreds of round earthen houses that bulged from the ground like miniature hills, covered with grass. A small army of slaves had gone ahead to prepare for Khal Drogo's arrival. As each rider swung down from his saddle, he unbelted his arakh and handed it to a waiting slave, and any other weapons he carried as well.

Even Khal Drogo himself was not exempt. Ser Jorah had explained that it was forbidden to carry a blade in Vaes Dothrak, or to shed a free man's blood. Even warring khalasars put aside their feuds and shared meat and mead together when they were in sight of the Mother of Mountains. In this place, the crones of the dosh khaleen had decreed, all Dothraki were one blood, one khalasar, one herd. Cohollo came to Dany as Irri and Jhiqui were helping her down off her silver. He was the oldest of Drogo's three bloodriders, a squat bald man with a crooked nose and a mouth full of broken teeth, shattered by a mace twenty years before when he saved the young khalakka from sellswords who hoped to sell him to his father's enemies. 

His life had been bound to Drogo's the day her lord husband was born. Every khal had his bloodriders. At first Dany had thought of them as a kind of Dothraki Kingsguard, sworn to protect their lord, but it went further than that. Jhiqui had taught her that a bloodrider was more than a guard; they were the khal's brothers, his shadows, his fiercest friends. "Blood of my blood," Drogo called them, and so it was; they shared a single life.

As the ancient traditions of the horse lords demanded that when the khal died, his bloodriders died with him, to ride at his side in the night lands. If the khal died at the hands of some enemy, they lived only long enough to avenge him, and then followed him joyfully into the grave. In some khalasars, Jhiqui said, the bloodriders shared the khal's wine, his tent, and even his wives, though never his horses. A man's mount was his own. Daenerys was glad that Khal Drogo did not hold to those ancient ways. She should not have liked being shared. 

Although, while old Cohollo treated her kindly enough, the others frightened her; Haggo, huge and silent, often glowered as if he had forgotten who she was, and Qotho had cruel eyes and quick hands that liked to hurt. He left bruises on Doreah's soft white skin whenever he touched her, and sometimes made Irri sob in the night. Even his horses seemed to fear him. Tyrael at times healed them when he could and wished he could have done more.Yet they were bound to Drogo for life and death, so Daenerys had no choice but to accept them. And sometimes she found herself wishing her father had been protected by such men. 

But in the songs, the white knights of the Kingsguard were ever noble, valiant, and true, and yet King Aerys had been murdered by one of them, the handsome boy they now called the Kingslayer, and a second, Ser Barristan the Bold, had gone over to the Usurper. She wondered if all men were as false in the Seven Kingdoms. When her son sat the Iron Throne, she would see that he had bloodriders of his own to protect him against treachery in his Kingsguard. But Tyrael told her the truth and she couldn't believe how gullible she was to the monster of a brother she has, but she was happy, happy that those lies lead to her protector. 

"Khaleesi," Cohollo said to her, in Dothraki. "Drogo, who is the blood of my blood, commands me to tell you that he must ascend the Mother of Mountains tonight, to sacrifice to the gods for his safe return. “

Only men were allowed to set foot on the Mother, Dany knew. The khal's bloodriders would go with him, and return at dawn. "Tell my sun-and-stars that I dream of him, and wait anxiously for his return," she replied, thankful.

To anyone she looked tired more easily as the child grew within her; in truth, a night of rest would be most welcome. Her pregnancy only seemed to have inflamed Drogo's desire for her, and of late his embraces left her exhausted. Doreah led her to the hollow hill that had been prepared for her and her khal. It was cool and dim within, like a tent made of earth. "Jhiqui, a bath, please," she commanded, to wash the dust of travel from her skin and soak her weary bones. It was pleasant to know that they would linger here for a while, that she would not need to climb back on her silver on the morrow.

The water was scalding hot, as she liked it. "I will give my brother his gifts tonight," she decided as Jhiqui was washing her hair. "He should look like a king in the sacred city. Doreah, run and find him and invite him to sup with me. " Viserys was nicer to the Lysene girl than to her Dothraki handmaids, perhaps because Magister Illyrio had let him bed her back in Pentos. "Irri, go to the bazaar and buy fruit and meat. Anything but horseflesh." 

"Horse is best," Irri said. "Horse makes a man strong.”

Tyrael snorted and he muttered: " Bullshit chicken, pork or venison." 

Brought back was a haunch of goat and a basket of fruits and vegetables. Jhiqui roasted the meat with sweetgrass and firepods, basting it with honey as it cooked, and there were melons and pomegranates and plums and some queer eastern fruit Dany did not know. While her handmaids prepared the meal, Dany laid out the clothing she'd had made to her brother's measure: a tunic and leggings of crisp white linen, leather sandals that lace up to the knee, a bronze medallion belt, a leather vest painted with fire-breathing dragons. The Dothraki would respect him more if he looked less a beggar, she hoped, and perhaps he would forgive her for shaming him that day in the grass. He was still her king, after all, and her brother. They were both blood of the dragon.

She was arranging the last of his gifts—a sand silk cloak, green as grass, with a pale grey border that would bring out the silver in his hair—when Viserys arrived, dragging Doreah by the arm. Her eye was red where he'd hit her. "How dare you send this whore to give me commands," he said. He shoved the handmaid roughly to the carpet.

The anger took Dany utterly by surprise. "I only wanted . . . Doreah, what did you say?”

“Khaleesi, pardons, forgive me. I went to him, as you bid, and told him you commanded him to join you for supper.” She replied.

"No one commands the dragon," Viserys snarled. "I am your king! I should have sent you back her head!”

The Lysene girl quailed, but Dany calmed her with a touch. "Don't be afraid, he won't hurt you. Sweet brother, please, forgive her, the girl misspoke herself, I told her to ask you to sup with me, if it pleases Your Grace. " She took him by the hand and drew him across the room. "Look. These are for you. “

Viserys frowned suspiciously. "What is all this?”

"New raiment. I had it made for you. " Dany smiled shyly.

Tyrael muttered: " Why do I keep forgetting this guy is a serious asshole.”

He looked at her and sneered. "Dothraki rags. Do you presume to dress me now?”

"Please…you'll be cooler and more comfortable, and I thought . . . maybe if you dressed like them, the Dothraki… " Dany did not know how to say it without waking his dragon.

But she then remembered what Tyrael called him, the man was a worm. A bottom feeder and she was the dragon. 

"Next you'll want to braid my hair. “ Mocked her brother with a glare.

"I'd never… " Why was he always so cruel? She had only wanted to help. "You have no right to a braid, you have won no victories yet." 

It was the wrong thing to say. Fury shone from his lilac eyes, yet he dared not strike her, not with her handmaid's watching and the warriors of her khas outside. Viserys picked up the cloak and sniffed at it. "This stinks of manure. Perhaps I shall use it as a horse blanket. “

"I had Doreah sew it specially for you," she told him, wounded. "These are garments fit for a khal." 

"I am the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, not some grass-stained savage with bells in his hair," Viserys spat back at her. He grabbed her arm. "You forget yourself, slut. Do you think that big belly will protect you if you wake the dragon?”

Tyrael snarled as his fingers dug into her arm painfully and for an instant Dany felt like a child again, quailing in the face of his rage. She reached out with her other hand and grabbed the first thing she touched, the belt she'd hoped to give him, a heavy chain of ornate bronze medallions. She swung it with all her strength. It caught him full in the face. Viserys let go of her. Blood ran down his cheek where the edge of one of the medallions had sliced it open. "You are the one who forgets himself," Dany said to him. "Didn't you learn anything that day in the grass? Leave me now, before I summon my khas to drag you out. And pray that Khal Drogo does not hear of this, or he will cut open your belly and feed you your own entrails." 

Viserys scrambled back to his feet. "When I come into my kingdom, you will rue this day, slut. " 

He walked off, holding his torn face, leaving her gifts behind him. Drops of his blood had spattered the beautiful sand silk cloak. Dany clutched the soft cloth to her cheek and sat cross-legged on her sleeping mats. But she felt Tyrael holding her and she whimpered with tears. 

“Your supper is ready, Khaleesi," Jhiqui announced.

" I'm not hungry," Dany said sadly. She was suddenly very tired. "Share the food among yourselves, and send some to Ser Jorah, if you would. " After a moment she added, "Please, bring me one of the dragon's eggs.”

Irri fetched the red and golden egg.Dany curled up on her side, pulling the sand silk cloak across her and cradling the egg in the hollow between her swollen belly and small, tender breasts. She liked to hold them. They were so beautiful, and sometimes just being close to them made her feel stronger, braver, as if somehow she were drawing strength from the stone dragons locked inside. Tyrael sat beside her and held her hand and said: “Little red is a girl." 

“Is she?" Asked Dany.

“She'll be as beautiful and fierce as her mother." He said as he leaned down and kissed her forehead.

She smiled and looked at the fake swollen belly that would last till a time.

She smiled and Tyrael got up and touched the other eggs and said: “Don't worry kids, Daddy loves you both. Sleep little ones and dream of flying in the skies and dancing among our kind." 

Dany asked: " What happened to Tyrael, why do you seem angry?*

Tyrael sighed and laid down beside her as they formed a whirlpool shape he looked exhausted and said: “Just… everything. The King wants you dead now he knows about the “pregnancy".Eddard Stark was attacked by the Golden Cloaks, I am sending Joan and Arya back home to the north. Thankfully they are safe… but something good did happen…* He explained what really went down at the tourney and she looked surprised and overcome.with joy, but a teasing look.crossed her face and she said: “Claiming the Targaryen Princess's my dragon." 

“Can't help it, you three are the most beautiful maidens I've seen. Besides I don't think Rhaenys is all into me like you are,.more like a mutual thing.” He replied.

Notes:

Yeah Elia Sand/Rhaenys Targaryen Martell will not be part of the harem, she'll be a mutual fuck friend along with her female cousin and sisters.

Chapter 18: The North Howls In the South

Chapter Text

Hearing the groans of Eddard Stark, Tyrael looked upon him as he opened his eyes. Moonlight streamed through the tall windows of the Tower of the Hand. Soon he heard the voice of Tyrael calling for someone but his head was in pain and his ears were ringing. As a shadow stood over him he heard a voice clearly asking: “Lord Eddard?”

"How . . . how long?" The sheets were tangled, his leg splinted and plastered. A barely throb of pain shot up through him making him flinch.

“Six days and seven nights. " The voice was Vayon Poole. The steward held a cup to Ned's lips. "Drink, my lord. “

" What…” Said Stark as Tyrael said: " Aye, you've been down for some time. I've sent Joan and Arya back to Winterfell aboard the Dev Aveza for their own protection and convinced the court that someone nearly assassinated them while the King's Guard attacked you. Let's just say… the people have your pack.father. The king slayer fled for the rock and I've sent word to the Lord saying what happened. Let's just say the Slayer will surely be punished.”

Ned drank the cup and found it to be water. His lips were parched and cracked. The water tasted sweet as honey. The man tending to him was Vayone.

"The king left orders," Vayon Poole told him when the cup was empty. "He would speak with you, my lord." 

"On the morrow," Ned said. "When I am stronger. " He could not face Robert now. The dream had left him weak as a kitten.

"My lord," Poole said, "he commanded us to send you to him the moment you opened your eyes. " The steward busied himself lighting a bedside candle.

“I could go, we told him you nearly collapsed and passed out." Said Tyrael.

Poole then said: “You would lie to the king?"

“Yes, I could even use magic to shift my appearance into your father and go in your place, you need rest. If you move down those wounds may never heal right.” Said Tyrael.

Ned cursed softly. Robert was never known for his patience he then said: “Very well, Tyrael.will go in my place. But summon the captain of my guard. “

Alyn stepped into the bedchamber a few moments after the steward had taken his leave. "My lord. “

"Poole tells me it has been six days," Ned said. "I must know how things stand. “

" As Ser Tyrael likely said. The Kingslayer fled the city," Alyn told him. "The talk is he's ridden back to Casterly Rock to join his father. The story of how Lady Catelyn took the Imp is on every lip, but many believe it to be false. I have put on extra guards, if it pleases you. “

“Cause it is, I received word from Robb just the day after the girls left that Tyrion had stayed in Winterfell due to a massive storm surprisingly washed through the borders making passage suicidal and that he would be taking the Dev Aveza to return." Said Tyrael.

"Tyrael said Arya and Joan are on they're way to the north, is that true?” Asked Ned 

" Yes my Lord, since the incident many believed it to be the bat. Sansa has sent Lady back with them for her own safety as Joan took Ghost with her.” Said the Captain.

" But you're not going to like this. I saw a message leave Littlefinger’s presence and captured him without anyone noticing. It's a message addressed to mother's sister. I finished studying they're language… and… we found the culprits.” He said producing a piece of parchment. Eddard grabbed it and read it seeing the message was deciphered and his eyes widened and the Captain asked: " My Lord what is it?”

"It seems Petyr and Lysa were the ones to kill Jon, using Tears of the Lys in his wine. I've decided to find more messages and rub them with charcoal and read more texts about this subject. Seems he persuaded her to leave and convinced Hugh to join the Tourney and tried to convince mother of who the blame belongs to. They've been having an affair sometime after Jon’s heir was born. Though I've discovered something more dark seems like he has a plan of sorts, he mentioned it in a few paragraphs regarding our family and the Bolton’s. What it is, I do not know. Just give me the word, and I'll have that man sharing up in chains and begging the gods for a merciful death.”

Nedd and Alyn looked displeased and Eddard said: " Go and bring the man to justice, Alyn. I want you and Tyrael to gather our man and grab Petyr Baelish on account of being a traitor to the crown.”

The duo nodded and Tyrael clenched his fist and he turned into Eddard Stark though more bandaged but in the raiment he wore to the council room and began limping away. Alyn then said: “It amazes me how he does that." 

Alyn walked off and Eddard Stark laid back and looked out at the moon light and smiled.

Standing before the King he said: “ "Your Grace," Ned said. "Your pardons, I can not bow without falling over.”

“No matter," the king said gruffly. "Some wine? From the Arbor. A good vintage. “

"A small cup," Ned said. "My head is still heavy from the milk of the poppy. But I understand you wished to see me, but upon my awakening, my son Tyrael had brought these letters from Petyr Baelish to Lysa Ardyn and they are the ones responsible for Jon Arryn’s death. Killed by Tears of Lys." 

Cersei and Robert paused and Cersei then said: " A man in your place should count himself fortunate that his head is still on his shoulders." 

"Quiet, woman," Robert snapped. He brought Ned a cup of wine. "Does the leg still pain you?”

" Greatly, but Tyrael had received word of Tyrion Lannister returning to the South as a massive storm had emerged making traveling the roads and by sea virtually impossible. The raven had just barely made it here alive.” Said Ned who was Tyrael in disguise as he shakily took the cup and winced.

"Pycelle swears it will heal clean. " Robert frowned. "That is a relief, we believed your family held him captive. But Petyr Baelish… Little finger …” he examined the letters and frowned and Tyrael said: "I also saw notes in some of those papers to others that he had also been using the wealth he had earned for the kingdom to be spent, but some of the money had been sent to him to line his own pockets. He has also been taking payments from merchants as bribery. I have sent Alyn and the remainder of my guard to bring him before you on the account of murder, thievery from the crown. But they're is more.”

" More? “ Asked Cersei. 

" Yes, before our arrival to King's Landing my wife has traveled here to speak to her Master of Arms about a Valyrian Steel dagger used to attempt to murder my son Bran as he was sleeping by a Catspaw. Petyr said he had lost it to your brother my queen on Prince Joffrey name day. “

" I can assure you my friend that he lost it to me… but… you are not accusing my son of murder.” Said the King with an edge in his voice.

" No your grace, but I believe someone among the court had stolen that from you and hired the assassin to murder my son. With the recent attempt of Arya and Joan and members of the Red Cloak and what Jaime Lannister did to me… I believe they were all trying to prevent me from discovering Jon Arryn’s murder.” Said Tyrael.

The King frowned and Cersei looked surprised, but she shuddered as she then said: " Why would my brother attack you?”

" As I went to meet my Captain, I was attacked and Petyr fled going to find the Golden Cloaks and my men lay dead, cut down by Jaime Lannister. If not for me stopping my son Tyrael, Jaime.Lannister would have had his head on a pike.” Said Tyrael with a dark gaze.

Robert nodded and said: " That boy is loyal to you to a fault, but he has saved the kingdom and brought forth this evidence. If he wasn't already a knight I would have knighted him.”

“By what right do you dare lay hands on my blood?" Cersei demanded. "Who do you think you are?”

"The Hand of the King," Ned told her with icy courtesy. "Charged by your own lord husband to keep the king's peace and enforce the king's justice. For as I was not officially removed from my services as until a new one was appointed I was still hand of the king.”

"You were the Hand," Cersei began, "but now—”

"Silence!" the king roared. "You asked him a question and he answered it. " Cersei subsided, cold with anger, and Robert turned back to Ned. "Keep the king's peace, you say. Is this how you k

keep my peace, Ned? Seven men are dead…”

"Eight," the queen corrected. "Tregar died this morning, of the blow Lord Stark gave him. “

"Abductions on the kingsroad and drunken slaughter in my streets," the king said. "I will not have it, Ned." 

“It was not my King, my Captain wished to see me as he found evidence upon what Jon Arryn had been looking into with the small council, which led to my son investigating Littlefinger.

“I've talked to Littlefinger," Robert said. "He claims he rode off to bring the gold cloaks before the fighting began, but he admits you were returning from some whorehouse. “

“Some whorehouse? Damn your eyes, Robert, I went there to have a look at your daughter! Her mother has named her Barra. She looks like that first girl you fathered, when we were boys together in the Vale. " He watched the queen as he spoke; her face was a mask, still and pale, betraying nothing.

Tyrael smirked inwardly, if the Queen wanted her dead, she was already long gone, shipped off to the north for her own protection. He would not allow innocent people to die.

Robert flushed. "Barra," he grumbled. "Is that supposed to please me? Damn the girl. I thought she had more sense.”

"She cannot be more than fifteen, and a whore, and you thought she had sense?" Ned said, incredulous. His leg was beginning to pain him sorely. It was hard to keep his temper. "The fool child is in love with you, Robert. She said the physicians told her she may never have a child when she blossomed. You gave her the thing she was always told she would be denied her entire life." 

Robert's head dipped, before he glanced at Cersei. "This is no fit subject for the queen's ears. “

“Her Grace will have no liking for anything I have to say," Ned replied. "I am told the Kingslayer has fled the city. Give me leave to bring him back to justice. From the rumors among the guards Alyn told me, he ran in fear of my son coming for him. For she feared what he had done to the mountain be upon him.”

Remembering the giant, Robert then said: " Yes, the boy shattered the mountain blade and overpowered him in brute strength. He crumbled the mountain. Your boy is abnormal Stark. But I want no more vengeance between you and the King Slayer. Jaime slew three of your men, and you five of his. Now it ends.”

Tyrael clicked his teeth and said: " Is that your notion of justice?" Ned flared. "If so, I am pleased that I am no longer your Hand." 

The queen looked to her husband. "If any man had dared speak to a Targaryen as he had spoken to you—” Robert banged his hand on the table, “Do you take me for Aerys?" Robert interrupted.

I took you for a king. Jaime and Tyrion are your own brothers, by all the laws of marriage and the bonds we share. The Starks have driven off the one and if it is not true seized the other. This man dishonors you with every breath he takes, and yet you stand there meekly, asking if his leg pains him and would he like some wine.

Robert's face was dark with anger. "How many times must I tell you to hold your tongue, woman?”

Cersei's face was a study in contempt. "What a jape the gods have made of us two," she said. "By all rights, you ought to be in skirts and me in mail." 

Purple with rage, the king lashed out, a vicious backhand blow to the side of the head. She stumbled against the table and fell hard, yet Cersei Lannister did not cry out. Her slender fingers brushed her cheek, where the pale smooth skin was already reddening. On the morrow the bruise would cover half her face. "I shall wear this as a badge of honor," she announced, but Tyrael saw it… tears behind those eyes.

"Wear it in silence, or I'll honor you again," Robert vowed. He shouted for a guard. Ser Meryn Trant stepped into the room, tall and somber in his white armor. "The queen is tired. See her in her bedchamber. " The knight helped Cersei to her feet and led her out without a word.

Robert reached for the flagon and refilled his cup. "You see what she does to me, Ned. " The king seated himself, cradling his wine cup. "My loving wife. The mother of my children. " The rage was gone from him now; in his eyes Ned saw something sad and scared. "I should not have hit her. That was not… that was not kingly. " He stared down at his hands, as if he did not quite know what they were. "I was always strong… no one could stand before me, no one. How do you fight someone if you can't hit them?" Confused, the king shook his head. "Rhaegar… Rhaegar won, damn him. I killed him, Ned, I drove the spike right through that black armor into his black heart, and he died at my feet. They made up songs about it. Yet somehow he still won. He has Lyanna now, and I have her. " The king drained his cup.

" No my life, my son once told me that war never changes. The battlefield and tactics and tools may change but it never changes. It changes the people who fight in them, changes them into monsters. He had seen once honorable men commit heinous acts against the innocent. We may have won the battles, but the war has won over us all.” Said Tyrael.

“That boy, too smart for his own damn good. But he is correct. The war… it changed us. Stripped us down and broke us, and we barely put ourselves back together.” Said the King as he poured more wine and said: " "I am sick unto death of talk. Once Petyr Baelish has been handled, I'm going to Kingswood to hunt. Whatever you have to say, I can wait until I return. “

"If the gods are good, I shall not be here on your return. You commanded me to return to Winterfell, remember?” Said Tyrael.

Robert stood up, grasping one of the bedposts to steady himself. "The gods are seldom good, Ned. Here, this is yours. " He pulled the heavy silver hand clasp from a pocket in the lining of his cloak and tossed it on the bed. "Like it or not, you are my Hand, damn you. I forbid you to leave." 

Ned picked up the silver clasp. He was being given no choice, it seemed. His leg throbbed, and he felt as helpless as a child. "The Targaryen girl— as your friend I standby to protect this realm. But as a father, I can not take the pleasure of choosing to end the life of a child no matter who's blood they bear.”

Robert remained silent before saying: “Put on the badge, Ned. It suits you. And if you ever throw it in my face again, I swear to you, I'll pin the damned thing on Jaime Lannister. But would you soon be capable of handling the possession of a Commander till a new one is found?”

" He most certainly would be. He wipes them all into shape and separates the corrupt from the protectors.” Said Tyrael with a smirk.

Returning to his father's chamber and seeing Sansa feeding Lord Stark he explained what happened. Unfortunately the King had sent Petyr to the cells below and on the morrow a trial would be held, then when it was over the execution and the king would go on a hunt then after. Eddard said and rubbed his face and he asked: “How did you know about…” Tyrael chuckled and said: " You honestly don't think I didn't have an eye on you that night father. But I wouldn't worry about the girl or the child, I had her join Joan and Arya on the Dev Aveza for her safety and warn her the Queen may kill her child. Arya said she would take her as her personal handmaid.”

Ned sighed and said: " You are always a step ahead my son.”

" Once this settles, we send Sansa back saying she had fallen ill from the heat and sometime in the north should help her. Meanwhile we have to stay here, though I hate to say this, I really do but. Without the others here we only have to watch over ourselves.”

Sansa then said: " It's fine Tyrael, you've done so much already.” Said Sansa.

Eddard then said: " And he pointed you to the acting Commander.” 

" Yes, I'll start drilling the entire guard and break them down and mold them. Anyone I catch doing so much of an illegal act without probable cause is in prison. And prisoners do worse things to the former guards man, the former commander was found dead in the sewer last night stabbed in the throat though it appears he tripped and his throat landed on a piece of metal.” Said Tyrael.

Sana gasped and Ned said: " You sure it was the prisoners?”

" Most definitely. Prisoners will always attack former guard members once they are thrown into a cell.” Said Tyrael.

As Tyrael took his leave he saw the guard outside the Queen's chamber and said after using a spell on the guard: “Move aside, the Queen has summoned my presence.”

The guard moved aside and he entered to see the Queen by her mirror examining the bruise and he said: " You should e have played nice baby girl.”

She gasped and turned to see Tyrael walked over to her and he said: " Strip so Daddy can see…" she nodded and removed her gown showing underneath was a green corset with pink cups to hold her breast and a pair of green lace panties.

Seems Tamriel clothing started becoming a hit. She whimpered and said: “Daddy, Km.sorry I…” she felt a hand on her cheek and one on her lower cheek and she whimpered.

Tyrael then said: " I know my dear princess… but you should have listened to everything and no you got hit by the whale." 

She whimpered and rubbed her face against his hand and he then said: “I would punish you, but the King has done it. Get on your knees and prostate and beg for what needs to be begged.”

The Queen got onto her hands and knees and said as her head touched the floor and her crown fell off and she asked: “Daddy, I beg of you have mercy. Take your anger out on me, but spare my brother please”

Kneeling before her he raised her face and said: “Good girl, you know what to do." 

Sitting upon her bed, he watched as she crawled to it and I did everything to prevent her from her prize and pulled down his trouser and boxers as a semi hard cock sprang and smacked her nose. She purred like a kitten and rubbed her face against it and kissed the top before licking it and said: “Daddy is so big and tasty." 

 

(Lemon Begins)

 

Cerssei began taking long stride licks and pecked kisses after she met the base and dragged her tongue back up. She felt his hand rubbed her scalp gently and said: “Good girl. Daddy’s princess knows when she must behave." 

She began sucking on the sides of his cock before she sucked and licked the head of his cock enjoying his taste that made her almost cross eyed. Her left hand began massaging his balls and her head began bobbing as she fished out her right breast from her corset and began fondling it, pinching and pulling her nipple all the while enjoying the taste of his cock. She moaned around his cock as she took it in deeper finally after weeks to months having it again, the one cock that satisfied her. Thunshe took his cock in stride and began hastily trying to get him to blow his load, it wasn't until she felt him shove her face down to base and his car xk erupted down her gullet that she erupted in an orgasm and thought: ‘So much… he's a dragon.’

Pulling away Cersei sighed tasting his semen in her mouth and shuddered. It was thick, rich and tasty. Shuddering in delight she climbed up next to Tyrael and said: “Daddy please fuck me like a whore." 

He smirked and stood up and positioned his cock after pulling her panties aside from her pussy and shoved his cock into her and entered her womb making her cry out and had an orgasm. As he began his stride of pulling in and out she purred happily feeling his meat rod's warmth and she slowly started meeting his rhythm. His finger began sneaking around till he began feeling tufts of hair and he said as his thrust sped up: “Good girl."

She purred and he began thrusting even harder making her moan as his cock when going back into her womb or coming out hit her g-spot. She was practically having to be on the edge of her orgasm with every strike.she moaned feeling her womb practically jump when it entered and tried to suck it back in when he pulled out. As he kept the pace, increasing and his fingers began to toy with her clit and rubbing it she moaned feeling it. He smiled and hooked his arms under her legs and hoisted her up and caused her to gasp as she found herself being held as his cock began ramming into her like a battering ram as she cried out as she gushed from pussy. Tyrael then said: “That a girl, that's daddy’s whore." 

She moaned as he went faster causing her to bounce and bounce in his arms. Her corset cup bounced loose causing her breast to fall out and bounce with the thrust and he said: “Look at these tits princess…” he said as they stood before a mirror and she saw it, her hair Cascades freely, the bruise upon her by Robert, but the mark of the dragon pinning a lioness. She looked to him and he whispered: “You once desired a dragon to claim you, and now one has." 

“Daddy Km.not pure, why would…" she started and moan feeling herself being fucked into a mess and he said: “Because I desire it..this body belongs to me, these breasts, mine, these curves like, these hips, mine, this face mine, those beautiful eyes mine, those adorable lips mine, and that pussy is mine. All of you belong to me and me also." 

With on new thrust she cried out as she erupted all over the mirror and began painting. He then leaned into her ear: “We've just started my dear." 

Thus he began ramming his cock into her so fast and hard her pussy began turning red and would soon bruise as would her ass. He roared out by midday and Cersei cried in ecstasy feeling her womb flooded with his seed she shuddered, had her Ninth orgasm and collapsed flat on the bed exhausted with a happy smile. She moaned, feeling his hand on her ass and said: “More…” then she was off to the land of dreams.

 

(Lemon End)

 

Seeing Cersei sleeping in her bed as her hair cascaded down her back he smiled. The mark on her crotch shimmer as to negate the fertility for now. He didn't need children yet, but he smirked seeing she looked younger. That was one thing, his mark would deny children but inches a females clock backwards if he desired. Whimpering she said: “Daddy, don't leave…” he leaned down and kissed her temple and said: " Rest sweety, Daddy has important business. But I did love the gift you gave me for the tourney my dear.

Leaving her chamber he stopped and looked around as if someone was watching him, through magic. As he turned, watching him through the flames from somewhere was a beautiful woman. She has long hair the color of deep burnished copper, unsettling red eyes, and pale, unblemished skin. She is slender, graceful, and taller than most knights. She has full breasts, narrow waist, and a heart-shaped face. She watched as the person turned into a golden flame dragon wearing a crown of storms and an invisible force pushed her back. She then heard a voice that said: “A worshipper of my celestial father, huh, do better than that." 

“the flames deemed before a massive fire erupted and the woman stared upon it with glee as the flames showed the image of a dragon barring the crown of storms wielding a sword and striking down an entity. She then whispered: “Azor Ahai!?”

It was soon time for the trial of Petyr Baelish. He was brought forth in chains, his raiment ruined as most likely tried to resist and his face bruised. Robert Baratheon then said: “Petyr Baelish, my Coin Master, you are charged with murder of Jon Arryn, former hand of the king and stealing from the crown. How do you plead?”

" Not guilty, this is surely a mistake.” Said Littlefinger 

" Not a mistake Petyr…" said Tyrael as he emerged as the room was filled with members of the court and the people itself and he said: “Ladies and gentleman, today we are here to see a traitor for his crimes. Though he denies his guilt, it is ever present. I had presented his majesty, notes, notes to Join n Arryn's widow about assassinating her husband. For Petyr Baelish, Littlefinger was having an affair with Lysa Arryn-Tully after the birth of her son. The notes had shown that he had also been siphoning coins from the crown as extra payment to himself he authorized which only the King can agree to. But also taking bribes from merchants to ignore the cost of their wares and to bring them up in the social ladders.”

Tyrael was garbed in his radiant raiment with gilded wrist guards and fine boots. Petyr looked nervous and he tried to speak, and saw false accusations but no one believed him. Then he shouted: “I desire trial by combat, immediately."

Eddard looked to the King as did Tyrael. They then said: “Very well, choose your champion." 

A simple knight from the guard stepped forward and offered, most likely one who was on Petyr payroll. Tyrael smirks and says: " I'll face him." 

Said Tyrael as he removed his top and revealed a muscular and scarred torso that had eight pecks and deep large scars. Tyrael drew his sword, the Sword of Ancient Tongues and the trial began. The knight charged but Tyrael dropped and spun a leg sweep taking the knight off his feet. The knight rolled and got to his feet and charged before thrusting his blade, but Tyrael.swatted it away and spun behind him and stabbed his blade into the man's back. Pulling it out the knight fell and Petyr who knew that the one who beated the mountain, would not be so easily defeated even with our armor. Robert nodded and said: “To the headsman axe with you Petyr!" 

Once everyone was outside, Petyr was kneeling on the chopping block and said: “Damn you Stark, damn you to the levels of hell! You stole Catelyn from me! May you burn in hell!" 

As his head was soon popped off everyone was leaving. Tyrael returned to his chambers and looked into the mirror and saw an inverted version of himself with golden eyes who smiled viciously. Before it laughed and gave a thumbs up and vanished.

Chapter 19: Organizing the Landing

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Through the high narrow windows of the Red Keep's cavernous throne room, the light of sunset spilled across the floor, laying dark red stripes upon the walls where the heads of dragons had once hung. Now the stone was covered with hunting tapestries, vivid with greens and browns and blues, and yet still it seemed to Ned Stark that the only color in the hall was the red of blood. He sat high upon the immense ancient seat of Aegon the Conqueror, an ironwork monstrosity of spikes and jagged edges and grotesquely twisted metal. It was, as Robert had warned him, a hellishly uncomfortable chair, and never more so than now, with his shattered leg throbbing more sharply every minute. The metal beneath him had grown harder by the hour, and the fanged steel behind made it impossible to lean back. A king should never sit easy, Aegon the Conqueror had said, when he commanded his armorers to forge a great seat from the swords laid down by his enemies. 

Damn Aegon for his arrogance, Ned thought sullenly, and damn Robert and his hunting as well. Tyrael joked about destroying the ugly thing on some occasions or at last melting it down into a proper seat. 

“You are quite certain these were more than brigands?" Varys asked softly from the council table beneath the throne. 

The Grand Maester Pycelle stirred uneasily beside him, while Littlefinger toyed with a pen. They were the only councillors in attendance. A white heart had been sighted in the kingswood, and Lord Renly and Ser Barristan had joined the king to hunt it, along with Prince Joffrey, Sandor Clegane, Balon Swann, and half the court. So Ned must sit the Iron Throne in his absence. At least he could sit. Save the council, the rest must stand respectfully, or kneel. The petitioners clustered near the tall doors, the knights and high lords and ladies beneath the tapestries, the smallfolk in the gallery, the mailed guards in their cloaks, gold or grey: all stood.

The villagers were kneeling: men, women, and children, alike tattered and bloody, their faces drawn by fear. The three knights who had brought them here to bear witness stood behind them 

"Brigands, Lord Varys?" Ser Raymun Darry's voice dripped with scorn. "Oh, they were brigands, beyond a doubt. Lannister brigands. “

Tyrael, who was acting Commander in the last few days, rooted out the incompetent from the entire guard as well as the most corrupted and put them all through a rigorous training regime that made even the older members cry. He looked to Ned who looked at him and both frowned. Ned could feel the unease in the hall, as high lords and servants alike strained to listen. He could not pretend to be surprised. The west had been a tinderbox since Catelyn had seized Tyrion Lannister. 

Both Riverrun and Casterly Rock had called their banners, and armies were massing in the pass below the Golden Tooth. It had only been a matter of time until the blood began to flow. The sole question that remained was how best to stanch the wound. Sad-eyed Ser Karyl Vance, who would have been handsome but for the wine stain birthmark that discolored his face, gestured at the kneeling villagers. "This is all the remains of the holdfast of Sherrer, Lord Eddard. The rest are dead, along with the people of Wendish Town and the Mummer's Ford.”

"Rise," Ned commanded the villagers. He never trusted what a man told him from his knees. "All of you, up." 

In ones and twos, the holdfast of Sherrer struggled to its feet. One ancient needed to be helped, and a young girl in a bloody dress stayed on her knees, staring blankly at Ser Arys Oakheart, who stood by the foot of the throne in the white armor of the Kingsguard, ready to protect and defend the king, or the King's hand now as Tyrael stood beside his Adoptive Father.

“Joss," Ser Raymun Darry said to a plump balding man in a brewer's apron. "Tell the Hand what happened at Sherrer.”

Joss nodded. "If it please His Grace—"

“His Grace is hunting across the Blackwater," Ned said, wondering how a man could live his whole life a few days' ride from the Red Keep and still have no notion of what his king looked like. Ned was clad in a white linen doublet with the direwolf of Stark on the breast; his black wool cloak was fastened at the collar by his silver hand of office. Black and white and grey, all the shades of truth. "I am Lord Eddard Stark, the King's Hand. Tell me who you are and what you know of these raiders. “

“I keep… I kept… I kept an alehouse, m'lord, in Sherrer, by the stone bridge. The finest ale south of the Neck, everyone said so, begging your pardons, m'lord. It's gone now like all the rest, m'lord. They came and drank their fill and spilled the rest before they fired my roof, and they would have spilled my blood too, if they'd caught me. M'lord.”

“They burnt us out," a farmer beside him said. "Come riding in the dark, up from the south, and fire the fields and the houses alike, killing them as they try to stop them. They weren't no raiders, though, m'lord. They had no mind stealing our stock, not these, they butchered my milk cow where she stood and left her for the flies and the crows. “

Tyrael frowned hearing this and continued to listen. 

"They rode down my 'prentice boy," said a squat man with a smith's muscles and a bandage around his head. He had put on his finest clothes to come to court, but his breeches were patched, his cloak travel-stained and dusty. "Chased him back and forth across the fields on their horses, poking at him with their lances like it was a game, them laughing and the boy stumbling and screaming till the big one pierced him clean through." 

The girl on her knees craned her head up at Ned, high above her on the throne. "They killed my mother too, Your Grace. And they… they…" Her voice trailed off, as if she had forgotten what she was about to say. She began to sob.

Tyrael walked down and pulled out a handkerchief for her and she took it and smiled at him. Just then Ser Raymun Darry took up the tale. "At Wendish Town, the people sought shelter in their holdfast, but the walls were timbered. The raiders piled straw against the wood and burnt them all alive. When the Wendish folk opened their gates to flee the fire, they shot them down with arrows as they came running out, even women with suckling babes." 

" Oh, dreadful," murmured Varys. "How cruel can men be?”

"They would have done the same for us, but the Sherrer holdfast was made of stone," Joss said. "Some wanted to smoke us out, but the big one said there was a riper fruit upriver, and they made it for Mummer's Ford.”

Ned could feel cold steel against his fingers as he leaned forward. Between each finger was a blade, the points of twisted swords fanning out like talons from arms of the throne. Even after three centuries, some were still sharp enough to cut. The Iron Throne was full of traps for the unwary. The songs said it had taken a thousand blades to make it, heated white-hot in the furnace breath of Balerion the Black Dread. The hammering had taken fifty-nine days. The end of it was this hunched black beast made of razor edges and barbs and ribbons of sharp metal; a chair that could kill a man, and had, if the stories could be believed.

What Eddard Stark was doing sitting there he would never comprehend, yet there he sat, and these people looked to him for justice. "What proof do you have that these were Lannisters?" he asked, trying to keep his fury under control. "Did they wear crimson cloaks or fly a lion banner?”

"Even Lannisters are not so blind stupid as that," Ser Marq Piper snapped. He was a swaggering bantam rooster of a youth, too young and too hot-blooded for Ned's taste, though a fast friend of Catelyn's brother, Edmure Tully.

"Every man among them was mounted and mailed, my lord," Ser Karyl answered calmly. "They were armed with steel-tipped lances and longswords, with battle-axes for butchering. " He gestured toward one of the ragged survivors. "You. Yes, you, no one's going to hurt you. Tell the Hand what you told me." 

The old man bobbed his head. "Concerning their horses," he said, "they were war horses they rode. Many a year I worked in Ser Willum's stables, so I know the difference. Not one of these ever pulled a plow, gods bear witness if I'm wrong.”

"Well-mounted brigands," observed Littlefinger. "Perhaps they stole the horses from the last place they raided." 

" How many men were there in this raiding party?" Ned asked.

" A hundred, at the least," Joss answered, in the same instant as the bandaged smith said, "Fifty," and the grandmother behind him, "Hunnerds and hunnerds, m'lord, an army they were.”

“You are more right than you know, goodwoman," Lord Eddard told her. "You say they flew no banners. What of the armor they wore? Did any of you note ornaments or decorations, devices on shields or helmets?”

The brewer, Joss, shook his head. "It grieves me, m'lord, but no, the arm or they showed us was plain, only… but my Lord, one of them dropped this to avoid being crushed…” he then pulled out a yellow banner with three black hounds and Tyrael.said: " The Mountain’s banner, either his men went rouge or Lord of the rock sent them out to cause chaos.”

Ned heard muttering from beneath the windows and the far end of the hall. Even in the galley, nervous whispers were exchanged. High lords and smallfolk alike knew what it could mean if Ser Marq was proved right. It was no mistake the emblem itself, it was once the sigil of Ser Gregor Clegane. He studied the frightened faces of the villagers. Small wonder they had been so fearful; they had thought they were being dragged here to name Lord Tywin a red-handed butcher before a king who was his son by marriage. He wondered if the knights had given them a choice.

Grand Maester Pycelle rose ponderously from the council table, his chain of office clinking. "Ser Marq, with respect, you cannot know that these outlaws were Ser Gregor’s former men.”

" No mistake, the hound is with the prince himself and no one would dare fly that banner openly. Tell me…did anyone hear anything they possibly say?”

The gathered remained silent and Tyrael then said: “Justice must be called Lord Stark, these men spat on the code of chivalry. I saw judgement must be carried out. “

" And what do you have me do? “ Asked Ned. 

" Let me handle it.” Said Tyrael and Ned said:;" Very well, the fate of those men shall be in your hands.”

Tyrael bowed and stepped out as he did; he mounted Epona and rode outside the city and soon summoned some allies. Emerging was a red headed Nord woman with face paint garbed in the full set of Savior’s Hide armor that had once been lost to history. With her was a pair of dark haired twins. One wielding a two handed axe and the other a sword and shield as the girl wielded a bow and quiver on her back and a pair of daggers at her hip. He then said: “Good you answered, got an assignment, former knights have become brigands. A hundred or so, they destroyed everything, even murdering women and small children who are still nursing. Even raping young girls." 

The red head woman said: “To Oblivion with the Harbinger. These men don't deserve to live." 

“Good, you three are to track them and go nuts, if you wish for more aid you know what to do. Once finished, return and be ready. I wish to say more, but I have duties that need my attention. Talos be with you three.* He said as he looked to the.

Farkas who wielded the axe and garbed in an armor akin.to the statue of Ysgramor said: “They won't know what hit them." 

 his brother said: “Leave it to us Harbinger, we'll deal with them." 

Vilkas was garbed in Skyforge Steel Skinchanger armor, though Aela and Vilkas had wolf shields. On Aela’s hand was a ring with many phases of the moon, on Farkas ring fingers was a dark ring with curved edges and a large reddish orange gem shaped like an eye. As in Farkas hand was a ring that resembled claw-like marks etched into it with an amethyst gemstone. These were known as the Rings of the Moon, Hunt and Instinct.

That night, in Sansa's bed chamber, “He wouldn't send Ser Loras," Sansa Tyrael that night as they shared a cold supper by lamplight. "I think it was because of his leg.”

Tyrael shook his head and said: "Sansa, your father is as stubborn for any man. Believe me, I'm more stubborn than he is, but I have to be a stubborn bastard to get the work done.”

It still irked her because her father's decision still bewildered her. When the Knight of Flowers had spoken up, she'd been sure she was about to see one of Old Nan's stories come to life. Ser Gregor was the monster and Ser Tyrael the true hero who would slay him. He even looked like a true hero, so fierce, elegante, chivalrous,honorable, helpful, compassionate and honest and his metal-like hair tumbling down into his royal eyes. And then Father had given him the go ahead to deal with Ser Gregor’s man and he had the idea, three unique warriors known as the Companions! From what she remembered of Tyrael's stories, the companions were more honorable than men and knights in the realm and were sold swords, but once you hire them, they'll not betray the one who had paid them to do something.It had upset her more than she could tell. She had said as much to Septa Mordane as they descended the stairs from the gallery, but the septa had only told her it was not her place to question her lord father's decisions. Tyrael eyed his Adoptive sister and noticed the look of loneliness and he said: “I know, it's quiet here without Joanna, Jeyne and Anya but there away for their safety.”

That was when Lord Baelish had said, "Oh, I don't know, Septa. Some of her lord father's decisions could do with a bit of questioning. The young lady is as wise as she is lovely. " He made a sweeping bow to Sansa, so deep she was not quite sure if she was being complimented or mocked.

Tyrael shook his head and said: “Need not to worry Sansa, I am sure the…” just then a guard came rushing over and whispered something to him.

Nodding his head and he said: “Excuse me for a moment…” he got up and walked out of the room and down to the courtyard.

Outside in the courtyard were the three companions all covered in bloody armor but no wounds with them shackled with his legs broken was former Gregor’s squire, Joss Stilwood. He had the look of utter fear and a broken man. His armor ruined, body covered battle marks. Tyrael pulled out a large pouch of coin and said: “Take it that new armor held up nicely alongside those rings." 

Aela then said: “I'll say, I've never felt this powerful at all." 

Vilkas looked to her and said: “Don't let it go through your head Aela, the Harbinger gave us this armor for better protection and helped Eorlund make the new armor for all the Companions as our old armor is being used by new recruits now. As the Armor I'm wearing is the official new inner circle armor.”

Farkas then said: “Doesn't matter anymore, the job is done. What will become of the boy.”

"Just, for now, return home and Aela prepare fr “that" and her payment.” Said Tyrael tossing a large pouch the size of a bucket filled with coin.

Grabbing the former squire he hoisted him over his shoulder and walked in and tossed him into a cell and said: “The headsman is going to enjoy this." 

Returning to dinner he then said: "The hunting party had returned, alive and with a bloody former squire of Gregor’s, the one who handed him his sword. I think you should be the one to sentence him father.”

Tyrael had already mended the man’s leg, but he kept the act up just to play the game they caught themselves in. Eddard nodded and said: “I've also received word the work force had just finished the flushing system for the sewers and where it will go. They've already noticed the stench is lessened and soon the entire city will notice." 

“Good, glad my design was functioning, I swear idiots who ever designed that system." Said Tyrael.

Before the first light the next day Tyrael was out in the training yard surrounded by guards and he said: “Okay you sacks of rotten meat bags, listen up and listen well. Till further notice I am in charge of you lot, every soldier I will personally make sure you are all as efficient as a boat carrying people down a river. As you can see behind me…” behind him was an obstacle course similar to.modern military forces use but with a pendulum swing back and forth and rotating logs with limbs that were spinning and much more.

“This course is designed to make you even more efficient and focused. Good soldiers get the task done first one.to.complete gets ten gold. Those who fail are going to be cleaning the barracks with this…” he held up a small brush and he then pulled out a set of weights and said: " Each of you will also be given weights as no armor is allowed. The weights are heavier than your armor now, any questions.”

Seeing everyone raise their hands he then said: " None, okay, come get one to complete your weights, five of pieces from the crate behind you.”

By early afternoon only half of the group of thirty even came remotely close to completing the obstacle course and everyone was covered in bruises, mud, suction cup arrows, cotton food, grease and much more. He then said: " Get cleaned up… the first ten who failed will be on cleaning duty today. That is all." 

Hearing said men groan, they all walked off having to use one another as supports but were told to wear their weights for a few hours of the day to help build up their strength. Hearing footsteps he turned to see Eddard walking toward him and said: “I take it training went well?" 

“As well as it can be, I'll continue this process for a while, a hundred running the course is simple enough. Some show good promise though…” he pulled out a leather book and said as it had two lists, one with those who can be guards and those who can't.

Tyrael then said: "Some I've seen where caught sabotaging the others. Next batch of hundred should be here in a few moments…" Right on que the next ones showed up and the process repeated till the end of the day as only eight hundred went through the course and only four completed it.

The list of the bad apples had increased to three hundred with those who had either no drive, bad character, corrupted or just straight up disobedient. Looking them over he frowned, eyeing the goblet he casted cure poison on it before doing the drink and sighed before rubbing his temples and a knock was heard and he looked and saw his door opening and saw Sansa entering and he said: " Ho like…" she scoffed and said: “Father asked me to come get you to discuss about your training.”

Days passed and the list grew of proper guardsmen was at seven hundred and fifty, a list of four hundred of maybe and the rest of the bad apples. Five hundred and fifty, and hear he was standing before the council giving his detailed report of his findings, the council came to an agreement of releasing the bad apples and he pointed out that having places in the city for the guards as there were some buildings that could be used as a form of barracks for the guards to be in areas and monitor as well as to be on call. Thus several once empty buildings were turned into small barracks with any of them having a basement turned into a small holding area and soon enough crimes in the city instantly had declined as the guard was on call and caught the culprits, somewhere former guards man, well twenty of them were and the rest left to return families or found other jobs. Tyrael looked at the reports and nodded his head, more and more positive reports from the civilians about the guard now. Now shake downs, no shady deal and much more positives. Hearing a sultry voice say from his doorway: “Busy as ever Ser Septum?*

He looked to see the Queen clad in a purple gown like the ones she always wore and he replied; “Yes, nothing but good things from the small folk, seems my movement has increased the mood of the people and housing a squad of knights in places in the city has brought peace of mind to the people.”

Setting the papers down he stood up and gave a bow as a knight walked past the door and once out of sight he pulled her inside and locked the door and shoved her against the wall and pulled her hair. He then said: “What is it?" 

She shuddered and says: " My father sent a message asked what has happened to Sir Gregor’s men, when my brother, Jaime came upon their remains, he said it looked like a pack of wild beast tore through them their armor destroyed, and body parts everywhere even the vultures dared not to come near.”

He smiled inwardly and he then said: “Honestly I have no clue, did they find anything unusual?" 

“Only the smell of wet dog and wolf fur with large tracks that look like wolves, but… the size… it was wrong.” She replied.

“Anthropians…” She looked at him in confusion and he replied: " Anthropoids are human-likeminds who can shapeshift into a beast -like man when they resemble my mysterious beast. What was found was a werewolf slaughter. Most likely Sir Gregor's former men killed members of a werewolf pack and hunted them down for revenge. Normal steel will barely harm them, silver and other pure metals have a better chance against them.”

Just then a knock on his window and he saw it was a hawk, opening it and taking the note out he looked it over and the Queen asked: “What is it?" 

The note was written in Akaviri runes as he knew it was from Kaiden and he said: " Nothing serious, a friend of mine who is assisting defenses with the wall as they are under manned has found several attempts of the free folk trying to cross the wall and seem to be families trying to flee from something, all saying the dead walk… few they had found seemed to have been scouting parties probing the Wall's defenses now, possibly looking for a way in for a siege.*

He scanned the documents and paused for a brief moment, before placing it down and stood up before saying: “But do you need me, your grace?" 

She nodded and said: “Yes, though I desire your… touch… my daughter wishes to see outside the Castle and has asked for you to escort her yourself.”

" Ah, very well then… where is the princess?" He asked.

“By the stables Sir Tyrael, though she is very anxious." Replied the Queen.

He nodded and pasted her and smacked her ass and he said: “Good girl, seems your behavior is becoming better." 

She shuddered and whispered huskily: “Yes daddy." 

Notes:

Sorry for the late update, got severely injured and had been nodding in and out a few times. Though I am still recovering I have to reread the story and pick up where I left off on the books and rework some of my plans for the story if I have to due to my injury damaged my memory
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