Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones or Fairy Tail

Rated M for gore violence, language, and sexuality

Enjoy


Northern Wilderness, 298 AC...

Gray Fullbuster shook the reins and his horse took off in full sprint. As he came up atop the hill, he gazed around at the vastness of the North. Gray loved the Lonely Hills. It reminded him of the gentle waves of the Sunset Sea. Movement caught his eye. At the base of two hills, a young man was walking aimlessly about. He wore black. All black. Gray kicked his horse froward towards the man. He steered his horse in front of the young man, and he jumped in surprise. His blue eyes were wild and his breath heavy as if he had been running from a ghost. The man gazed up at Gray and yelped as he fell back in fear. "Easy there, man," Gray said, steadying his horse. "Didn't mean to frighten you."

"...who...who are you?"

"Gray," he answered. "Of House Fullbuster. And you?"

"House Fullbuster?" The man suddenly lept forward. Seemingly flying onto Gray. The horse cried out in surprise and Gray recoiled. "What are-?!"

"You have it, don't you? The mark. You have it! Don't you?!"

The man grabbed at Gray's right arm, trying to push up his sleeve. Gray latched his hand onto the man's wrist. "Take it easy! What the hell is your problem?"

"They're coming!" the man blurted. "I saw them. Demons...made of ice."

"What?"

"White Walkers," the man whispered. "...they're real."

Gray's eyes studied the man from head to foot. "You've seen them?"

"Yes, m'lord." The man nodded his head aggressively.

"You've been north of the Wall...but you don't look like a Northman," Gray stated, seeing a sliver of clarity in the man's eyes. "Or a Wildling."

The man released his grip on Gray's arms. Gray's gaze flicked to the top of hill, seeing the glinting of spears and a banner, chains crossed in the shape of an X on a red field. Gray's jaw tensed and his gaze returned to the man. "You're from the Night's Watch, aren't you?"

The man slowly slipped out of Gray's grasp as the men of House Umber drew closer. "...yes."

Winterfell, the North...

Jellal Fernandes handed a small message to his squire. "Send this off to Master Makarov."

"Yes, Ser Jellal."

The squire opened the door and nearly ran into Theon Greyjoy. The former prince of the Iron Islands shoved the squire out of the way, and stifled his anger. Jellal continued writing, not bothering to raise his eyes. "Theon, what brings you to my office?"

Theon raised his chin. "Lord Stark requests your presence."

Jellal remained unfazed by Theon's false superiority. "About?"

Theon shrugged. "Don't know."

"Lord Stark sends you to fetch me and you don't even know what it's about?"

"Not my place to question." Theon dropped his sly smile. "I do as I'm told, Wizard."

Theon suddenly stumbled forward with a yelp, having received a hard slap on the back. He whirled around and his surprise turned to anger. "What the seven hells are you doing, Nyssa?!"

Nyssa Blackstorm snickered as she entered the office. She stood a whole head smaller than Theon. Her thick, voluminous black hair was braided back in typical Northern fashion. She was pretty with red eyes and a kind smile. A pink cat pounced off Theon's back. The cat was large like a hound with intelligent, dark eyes. Theon glared at the cat. "I swear on the Old Gods, Meadow-"

"What, Theon?" Meadow the cat spoke back. Her voice was high-pitched and sweet. Meadow circled around Nyssa's feet. "I'm just saying hello."

Jellal smiled softly. "Nyssa. I'm glad to see you. When did you return?"

"Just now," she said, gesturing to her traveling clothes. She pulled a small bag of coins from inside her cloak and tossed it to Jellal. "You'll be please to know the job went well. Bear Island is free of pirates and Lady Mormont sends her regards."

"Wonderful. I actually have another-"

"Ser Jellal," Theon spoke over them. "Lord Stark is waiting."

"Ah. Right." Jellal stood up. "Nyssa, we'll speak again when I return. For now, rest."

Nyssa mimicked his knowing smile as he followed Theon out of his office. Wings appeared on Meadow's back and she flew up to eye level with Nyssa. "Seven hells, you can't go five minutes without wanting to fuck Jellal."

Nyssa frowned at her companion. "Let the entire castle know our business, why don't you? Let's go. I need to rest."

Northern Wilderness...

Stark soldiers brought the Night's Watch boy to the execution block where Lord Eddard Stark and his sons waited. Robb, Bran, and Jon Snow stood behind their father, bearing witness. Theon held the Stark's ancestral sword, Ice, in his arms. Mest Gryder and Gray stood beside Ser Rodrick, and Ser Jellal stood across the execution block from Lord Stark. The soldiers forced the muttering boy to his knees. His hands were bound behind his back and his eyes were wild. He finally took a breath and glanced up at Lord Stark. "I know I broke my oath...and I know I'm a deserter."

"Then you know your punishment?" Lord Stark asked.

The boy slowly nodded his head. "I should've gone back. I should've warned them. I saw...I saw White Walkers. People need to know. They're back. They're real."

The boy breathed heavily as he lowered himself onto the block. "Forgive me, mi'lord."

Theon stepped forward and held out Ice for his Lord. Ned drew the giant sword from the wolf's pelt and held the sword against himself as he issued out the decree of death. While he spoke, Mest leaned in to whisper to Gray. "Think he's telling the truth?"

Gray watched as Lord Stark raised the massive sword high above his head. "Who knows? Could simply be a madman..."

Lord Stark swung the sword down in a swift motion, the blade slicing the boy's head clean off from his neck. Gray instinctively grabbed his right arm and squeezed. Perhaps grandfather's words are true...

Ned sheathed his giant sword in the pelt and handed it off to Theon. Jellal walked over to Ned and bowed his head in respect. "Lord Stark."

"Ser Jellal," Ned nodded back.

"The desertions are occurring more frequently," Jellal said with a whisper. "Forgive the superstitions of a Wizard, but the words of your house are not without meaning."

Ned sighed slowly, his eyes falling onto the tattoo that ran along the right side of Jellal's face. An ancient spell forced upon him by his father, and the meaning Jellal had not shared. Ned could not imagine his father doing such an act, nor doing it to any of his sons. "Winter is coming," he said as he glanced back at Gray. "And there is a reason we've had a Slayer in the North all these years."

Jellal followed his Lord's gaze. Gray was obliviously conversing with Robb and Jon. "An Ice Devil Slayer...a power that has not been seen for over a thousand years."

"Not since the time of the Long Night." Ned turned to look at his sons. He gave Jellal a nod of dismissal as he walked off towards Bran.

King's Landing, Crownlands...

Mirajane Strauss watched as the Silent Sisters continued their ritual of blessing Jon Arryn's body. Her eyes flicked to the far side of the Sept where Cersei Lannister watched the ritual as well. Lord Makarov Dreyar walked up beside Mirajane. "Shame how sudden Lord Arryn's passing was."

"Yes," she agreed. "Very sudden. Lord Arryn was elderly, but he was in good health. Why hasn't King Robert realized what this is?"

"King Robert doesn't want to leave his vices long enough to realize what's truly going on." Makarov noticed Ser Jaime Lannister approaching his sister. "Regardless, whatever Jon Arryn knew or didn't died with him. There is no use worrying about it now."

Mirajane sighed, "Everyone loved Jon."

"Yes, they did."

"Everyone except Lysa."

Makarov flicked his gaze up at Mirajane. "Lady Mirajane, Lysa Arryn was devoted to her husband as much as any dutiful wife."

"With all due respect, Master, we both know that isn't true." Mirajane noticed Cersei watching them. "Any idea who King Robert will pick as his new Hand?"

Makarov sighed as he began to turn away, "Aye, I do."

Winterfell, the North, a month later...

The entire court of Lord Stark was gathered in the main courtyard awaiting King Robert's arrival. Lord Stark and Catelyn stood at the front with their children lined up beside them. Jellal stood near Lady Catelyn, little Rickon standing between them. The other wizards were lined up beside him: Nyssa and Meadow, Gray, Mest, Cana of Alberona, and young Wendy Marvell and her Exceed, Carla. Arya pushed through the greeting crowd and ran past the wizards. Wendy grabbed onto Arya's arm. "Hey!" she whispered.

"What?" Arya asked, oblivious.

Wendy took the helmet off of Arya's head while Carla scowled in disapproval. Arya smiled and ran off to her spot in-between Sansa and Bran. Wendy handed the helmet off to a servant. Even in the cloudy Northern sky, the blue of her hair shone. The Kingsguard rode in, leading the royal carriage to the center of the courtyard. Sansa noticed Prince Joffrey, handsome and golden-haired, and smiled at him. Robb noticed the smirk Prince Joffrey gave her and he glared. A knight in silver armor wore a helmet shaped like a dog. The knight opened his helm, revealing a bit of his scarred face. Ser Jellal tensed upon seeing a familiar figure. A young woman with striking red hair rode her horse alongside other familiar faces. Nyssa noticed Jellal's reaction to his old friend, the Queen of the Fairies. The others followed in line, Elfman Strauss, Laki Olietta, and Wakaba of the Mine. The royal carriage opened and the Queen lumbered out. The king dismounted his horse, struggling at first. He was a tall, fat man who definitely had been handsome once. But his face had been ruined by long years of drinking.

As King Robert approached, everyone bowed. He signaled for them to rise. He looked over Lord Stark disapprovingly. "You've got fat!"

Ned eyed King Robert from head to large belly. King Robert bellowed in laughter and hugged his old friend. He looked over at Lady Stark, "Cat!"

They hugged. King Robert turned back to Ned. "Nine years. Why haven't I seen you? Where the hell have you been?"

"Guarding the North for you, your Grace," Ned said. "Winterfell is yours."

Queen Cersei bundled herself further with her furs as Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen followed her out. Arya glanced around. "Where's the Imp?"

"Will you shut up?" Sansa hushed her sister.

King Robert greeted Ser Jellal and the other wizards. Upon facing Nyssa, he threw her a big grin. "Nyssa!"

She mirrored his smile and welcomed his hug. "Look at you! You've turn out to be such a beauty!"

"Thank you, your Grace."

He gave her one last arm squeeze and moved on. He ruffled Rickon's hair, then walked around Catelyn and Ned. "You must be Robb." He shook Robb's hand with a firm handshake. His eyes fell on Sansa. "My, you're a pretty one."

He stopped at Arya and frowned. She was pretty, but scruffy-looking. "Your name is?"

"Arya."

He harrumphed with a nod. He smiled at Bran. "Oh! Show us your muscles." Bran obliged, flexing for King Robert. "You'll be a soldier."

One of the Kingsguard removed his helmet and shook his blond hair. He was handsome with a clean-shaven face and a devilish charm that matched Queen Cersei. Arya tugged on her sister's sleeve. "That's Jaime Lannister. The Queen's twin brother!"

Sansa shrugged her arm free. "Would you please shut up?"

Queen Cersei approached Ned and held out her hand. He kissed her hand, bowing respectfully. "My Queen."

Catelyn curtsied. "My Queen."

"Take me to your crypt," King Robert ordered. "I want to pay my respects."

Queen Cersei turned an unamused glare to her husband. "We've been riding for a month, my love. Surely the dead can wait."

He ignored her. "Ned!"

Ned gave Queen Cersei an apologetic nod and followed after King Robert. Arya scanned the crowd again and turned to Sansa. "Where's the Imp?"

Cersei raised an eyebrow at Arya. She stomped off towards her brother to speak with him. Nyssa took a deep breath. The Queen of the Fairies, Erza Scarlet, was studying her Northern wizard brethren. She dismounted and bowed before Catelyn. "Lady Stark."

Catelyn curtsied again. Erza walked over to the wizards. She wasn't tall, almost as petite as Nyssa. Her figure was hidden behind armor and furs. She walked with a sense of pride and authority. "Ser Jellal," she bowed. "It's good to see you."

"You as well," he said with a hint of softness in his voice. He returned to his seriousness. "Allow me to introduce our newest member, Wendy Marvell and her Exceed, Carla."

Wendy bowed to Erza. Carla did the same, her tail flicking. "Marvell? I'm unfamiliar with the name."

"It's an old name," Wendy explained. "I'm a ward of House Stark."

"And a Dragon Slayer, no doubt." Erza flicked her gaze to Nyssa then Jellal. "Two Dragon Slayers hiding in the North? Disconcerting."

"Don't forget," Nyssa retorted, "the Westerlands possess two Slayers as well."

Erza snorted. "It's good to see you, too, Nyssa. We have a new member as well. Lady Laki of House Olietta."

Laki stepped forward with a curtsy. Jellal smiled politely. "Welcome to Winterfell."

Wizard's Tower...

Erza peered out the window. Jellal sat his desk while Nyssa stood beside him. Jellal broke the silence, "I'm surprised Master Makarov sent you."

"Do I disappoint you?" Erza turned away from the window to face them.

"Forgive me, I only meant Lady Mirajane usually handles the visits."

Erza smirked at his words. "I assume you know why King Robert has come all this way."

"King Robert wishes to make Lord Stark his Hand. It's only natural. They're old friends," Nyssa answered.

"And why Master Makarov sent me."

Jellal tapped his finger on the desk. He shrugged his shoulders, lost for an answer. Erza sighed and approached the desk. "Should Lord Stark accept the King's offer, Master Makarov has ordered the main branch of Fairy Tail to be strengthened."

She pulled out a scroll from beneath her cloak and set it on Jellal's desk. He inspected the seal. The Fairy Tail's seal sat unbroken on the scroll. He opened it and read. After a moment, he glared up at Erza. "He wants our strongest mages?"

"What?" Nyssa breathed.

"Jon Arryn is dead," Erza reminded. "The majority of Fairy Tail resides in King's Landing. And we were not strong enough to protect him."

"He died of a fever-"

"Not a natural one." Erza had lowered her tone. "Master Makarov has his suspicions, and he demands that the strongest mages of your choosing be sent alongside Lord Stark. And you must send at least three."

"Three?" Nyssa scoffed. "We're not as abundant as the main branch. What you saw of us...that's all there is."

Erza took a deep sigh. "Ser Jellal, a word in private."

"Whatever you need to say you can say-"

"Nyssa," Jellal silenced. He gave her a look, and she huffed, storming out of the room. Jellal waited a moment after the door slammed shut. "Forgive her. She recently returned from a mission."

Erza hummed in response. "Look, I know these orders aren't what you expected, but Master Makarov has his reasons."

"Will you tell me what those reasons are?"

Erza glanced at the door. "There's many rumors as to why Jon Arryn died so suddenly. Grandmaester Pycelle dismissed it as a fever. Mirajane believes it was his wife, Lysa."

"Lysa? Why would she kill her husband?" Jellal studied Erza's expression. "Is there any proof?"

"No. Pycelle did an autopsy, but found nothing. Varys believes he was poisoned."

"What does Master Makarov believe?"

"That he won't say." Erza had made her way around the desk to Jellal's side. "He issued his command. My guess? Something is going to happen. I don't know what, but something will happen. And Master Makarov wishes us to be ready."

Jellal clenched and unclenched his fist. "I cannot refuse the Master of our Guild."

Erza placed her hand on the desk, extremely close to his. Jellal swallowed nervously. He had not been so close to her, not in a long time. "How's your betrothed?"

Erza withdrew her hand and stepped back. She tried to hide her disappointment. "Ser Loras? He's good."

"Not many people can rise to marry into such a high house."

She rolled her eyes. "Jellal, you don't have to pretend to be all right with our...situation."

"Situation?" he chuckled. He scooted the chair back and stood up. "Erza, it is good to see you again. The banquet will be starting soon, and I'm sure you need some rest."

He went to the door and held it open for her. Erza hesitated at first, but obliged. She paused in the doorway. "It's good to see you, too."

She gave him a soft smile and exited. Jellal watched her disappear down the steps. Faint memories echoed in his mind, memories of when she belonged to him.

The Hall...

The great room was bustling. Queen Cersei sat at the head table with Catelyn Stark, while the King sat in the middle of the room, joking with the men and flirting with the wenches. The Stark children sat on the table below the head. Everyone else milled about. At the end of the head table, Cana Clive had her glare fixed on a familiar face with a sigil switched onto their leather. The sigil of a flayed man. Unable to stand it, she got up and stormed off. Nyssa watched as Cana hurried out of the great room. She stood against a column as she drank her ale. Jellal was across the room, talking to Mest and Wakaba. Erza sat and laughed with Gray, Laki, and Elfman. Wendy attempted to keep the peace among the Stark children. Carla and Meadow were perched on a high point, eating undisturbed.

"Enjoying the party?"

Nyssa turned to the owner of the smooth voice. Jaime Lannister smiled at her, his face full of charm. "Winterfell is known for it's festivities."

Jaime snorted, looking out over the people. "You've done well for yourself up here, Lady Blackstorm."

Nyssa fought the urge to punch him. "I appreciate your manners, Ser Jaime. But...I'm not a lady. I'm just a ward of House Baratheon."

"Who found herself all the way to Winterfell...advising the Head Wizard hand-picked by Lord Dreyar himself." Jaime took a step closer. Nyssa noticed this, he had her nearly up against the column she leaned on. "I've heard you and Ser Jellal spend many hours together...keeping the North safe for Lord Stark."

"Do you take pleasure in shaming people?" she asked.

Jaime leaned back slightly, surprised. "Have I offended you? Forgive me, it's a bad habit."

"Hardly. Shaming low-borns seems to be a habit all high-borns share," she said pointedly. "Especially ones from south of the Neck."

Jaime hummed as he considered her words. "Perhaps. I am curious, though. What made you trade the warmth of the Stormlands for the snow of the North?"

Nyssa exhaled slowly as her eyes fell on Erza. "Same reason you stay in the Kingsguard."

"It's my sworn duty-"

"Ser Jaime," she said abruptly. "We both know it's not duty that binds you." Jaime lost his smile at her words. Nyssa patted his chest. "See? Low-borns can shame, too."

Jaime suddenly chuckled. It was infectious and Nyssa chuckled as well. "Apologies."

"No, no," he assured her. "Coming here...I didn't think I'd find much...intelligence in the North. Northerners are so grim and humorless."

"Oh, they're not so bad." She took another drink of her ale. "But, you're right. They're mostly grim and humorless."

Jaime relaxed his shoulders, feeling his usual tenseness leaving him. He glanced around and caught his sister eyeing him. The look on her face was suspicious and irritated. Jaime gave her a look of certainty, but felt his guilt creeping. "Well, it was a pleasure, Lady Blackstorm."

He bowed his head, and Nyssa returned it. She watched him walk away. She couldn't deny that he was handsome, but his pride and charm turned her off. She met Cersei's lingering glare. The look of jealousy of evident. Nyssa raised her mug, and Cersei looked away. Nyssa took a bigger gulp then whispered to herself, "Fucking Lannisters."

Main Courtyard...

Cana wrapped her cloak around herself. She wiped her face, it was wet with a few tears that had escaped her eyes. She stopped and leaned against the pillar by the stables. The sound of angry grunts pulled her attention. She continued on to the courtyard. Jon Snow was hacking away at a straw dummy. He swung violently and without thought or strategy. She watched him for awhile. It was clear he wasn't going to let up soon. "Is it dead yet?"

Jon Snow missed his swing. His sword bounced off the wood. He whirled around until he saw Cana. He calmed himself, regaining his manners. "Lady Bolton."

Cana rolled her eyes. "How many times have I asked you to call me Cana, Jon?"

"Forgive me, my lady." Jon breathed heavily. "It wouldn't be right if I didn't address you properly."

She wrapped her cloak around herself again and approached. "Why aren't you inside? There's still a seat waiting for you."

Jon finally slowed his breathing. He glanced down in shame. "Lady Stark believes the royal family will take offense to a bastard in their presence."

"Perhaps," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "I doubt they know what you look like."

Jon sighed. "Lady Stark knows what I look like."

"Has anyone ever told you you're dramatic?" she asked. She smirked at his frown. "Relax, Jon. The banquet is horrible. You're missing nothing."

"Am I?" He set his sword down. "It's not every day you get to meet the King."

"Yes, but unless you're a woman of loose morals, you won't get to meet the King."

Jon laughed. Cana admired him. He was handsome...and pretty. Most Northerners had a harsh, rugged-ness about them, blood of the First Men. But Jon, his face was soft as if cut from marble. He was beautiful. Very different from his father. A thought came to her. "Jon, have I ever given you a reading?"

"No," he said, shaking his head.

"Would you like one? I'm very good."

Jon studied Cana, wondering the hidden meaning behind her words. She noticed his reluctance. "No need to fear me, Snow. I promise you a reading and nothing more. Don't want to ruin your reputation."

She began to walk past him and noticed the look on his face. "Disappointed?"

He shook his head as he walked beside her. "No, my lady. It wasn't my reputation I was concerned about."

"You're such a gentleman." She hooked her arm around his. "Come. I'll tell you your future."

The Hall..

Jellal half-listened to the story Wakaba told him and Mest. His gaze kept shifting to Nyssa. He watched her walk along the edge of the room. She stopped and approached Lord Stark. He had been sulking in a corner, away from everyone. Nyssa spoke briefly to him, and with a bow, she left. Jellal returned his attention to Wakaba. "...then he choked on his own spit and got himself caught on his own fucking curse!"

Mest laughed. Jellal mimicked it. "Forgive me, but I must retire for the night."

"No," Wakaba argued. "It's been so long since we've seen each other."

"Yes, but...there's a hunt to prepare for tomorrow." With that, Jellal stood up. "Enjoy the feast."

He swiftly headed for the door. One thing and one person was on his mind. He said his goodbyes as he made his way out the door. The Wizard's Tower was across the courtyard from the main tower which held the great hall and majority of the rooms. The Wizard's Tower as smaller, but still held almost as many rooms. He climbed the stairs to the second highest floor. The last room on the right had the door closed. He slowed his breathing, his heart and body tingled with excitement. He knocked. "Come in."

He entered the room and smiled. Nyssa was by the fireplace, squatting down and tending to the flames. Her hair was unbraided and she wore her night robe. Her black hair flowed down her back, voluminous and wavy. Her exotic beauty enamored him. He pushed the door closed behind him. She stood as he approached. "Not hungry?"

Jellal stared at her unblinkingly. He took another step forward. His eyes fell on her hidden body. He reached for the tie at her waist and pulled it loose. Nyssa let him open her robe, revealing her naked body. He gently caressed her breasts, her nipples hardening at his touch. He could feel her heartbeat beneath his hand. He pulled her close and kissed her. Nyssa wrapped her arms around him, her fingers reaching into his hair. He picked her up and playfully tossed her on the bed. Jellal began removing his clothes. He grabbed her thighs, pulling her to the edge of the bed. Nyssa giggled as she adjusted her fur blanket beneath her. Jellal entered her slowly, earning a sweet moan.

His thrusts were steady and fluid. Nyssa had one leg wrapped around his waist and the other draped over his shoulder. She suddenly sat up, pulling herself close to kiss him. Jellal lost balance and his feet slipped, causing the bed to move. They laughed as at the sound of wood scraping against stone. Nyssa playfully shushed him. "The walls have ears."

Cana's Room...

Jon stared up at the ceiling. "What was that?"

"Nyssa's room is directly above mine," Cana said as she shuffled her cards. "It's probably her and Jellal."

Jon turned his gaze to Cana in surprise. "Ser Jellal and...?"

"What? You didn't know?"

Jon tried to hold back his blush. "Are they that obvious?"

Cana finished her shuffling. "They weren't at first...I don't think they care anymore."

Jon scratched his cheek, growing uncomfortable. She set the deck down. "Alright. Pick 10 cards. Set them down, but don't look."

Jon sighed and obliged. He grabbed 10 cards and set them out. Cana organized them in a specific pattern. She flipped them over, revealing different designs and meanings which puzzled Jon. "Now, pick 3 while thinking about your strengths, then another 3 thinking about your weaknesses. Then 3 more while you think about your future."

Jon, again, obliged; separating the cards. Cana hummed in approval. "For your first draw, love is in your future."

"Love? Really?" he asked dubiously.

She nodded. "But not in the way you expect. There's great loss for you, and only after enduring it, will you receive a love so fierce it'll burn."

"That doesn't sound pleasant."

Cana shrugged. The fire from the fireplace was beginning to warm her. "There's many ways to interpret how it will affect you. Love that burns could be passionate, romantic...or it could mean it'll be devastating, tragic, heartbreaking...or both."

Jon scowled. "All right, all right, moving on." Cana read through the second drawing. "Next...well, uh, more tragedy."

"What's worse than tragic love?"

"Betrayal. Loss of those closest to you. More loss. A lot of it, actually." She tapped one of the cards. "But the betrayals will make you stronger. You will be reborn from the pain."

Jon shifted in his chair. "Is there anything that's not terrible in my future?"

"Besides being reborn and passionate love?" Cana stifled a giggle at his frown. "A great...revelation in your future. A truth hidden beneath many lies comes to light. The outcome is uncertain, though."

"Why?"

Cana studied the cards further. The combinations confused her. "The truth will give you a choice...between a crown of ice or fire."

"There seems to be a lot of fire in my future," Jon pointed out, folding his arms across his chest. "I think I'll choose the crown of ice."

Cana raised her confused gaze to him. After a moment, she completely changed her attitude. "Well, it's only a prediction. You can choose to accept my reading or not."

Jon snorted at her, unfolding his arms. "Aye. Not sure if I will. Thank you, Lady Bolton-"

"Please!" she snapped. "Don't...call me that."

The crackle of the fire logs pierced the silence that followed. Cana calmed herself. "I'm sorry, Jon. I..."

"No need. The fault is mine. You asked me not to call you that-"

Cana suddenly doubled over, burying her face in her hands. Jon flinched at her sudden movement. She was silent but her back heaved. Jon got up and knelt down beside her. "Lady B...Cana, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you angry."

She shook her head. Finally, she looked up at him. Her eyes were red and watery. She placed her hand on his shoulder and pushed back, "I'm fine. I...think...I think I'm still grieving."

Jon thought back to when Cana first arrived at Winterfell. "What happened?"

"I saw a Bolton at the feast. He was probably just visiting to deliver the taxes, but...seeing him and the sigil on his leather...I just couldn't stand to be in the same room with him a moment longer." She wrapped her arms around herself. "I'm sure you heard why I left the Dreadfort and rejoined Fairy Tail."

Jon nodded slowly. "You were married to Lord Bolton's son."

Cana wiped away the tears threatening to roll down her cheeks. "I'm 18, Jon, and I'm a widow. I didn't leave the Dreadfort because I lost my husband. I left because my husband's body was barely cold when his father offered to marry me."

Jon didn't know how to respond. He couldn't fathom any man trying to seize his daughter-by-law for himself. Or, perhaps he could. Only a cold man would do such a thing. Cana sat up in a ladylike position. "It's getting late. You should return to your room."

Reluctantly, he got up. He tapped his fingers on the table, looking at the cards once more. "Thank you for the reading, Cana. Good night."

"Good night," she echoed. She waited until he closed the door and his footsteps vanished from earshot. Then, she let the tears flow.

Later, Nyssa's Room...

Nyssa woke with a start upon hearing a knock. Her room was dark, but she could see the faint embers in the fireplace. Jellal was asleep beside her, and Meadow was curled up on her bed by the window. Another knock. "Lady Nyssa?"

Jellal and Meadow stirred at the old voice coming through the door. Nyssa got up and grabbed her robe off the floor, quickly putting on as she opened the door. Maester Luwin stood on the other side and politely bowed his head. "Forgive me for disturbing you so late, but Ser Jellal's presence is requested by Lord Stark."

Jellal blinked, stirring himself fully awake. He dressed as quickly as he could. Maester Luwin did not give him nor Nyssa any looks of disapproval. She appreciated not being judged. Jellal grabbed his belt and stomped over to the door. He kissed Nyssa on the check then turned to Maester Luwin. "Lead the way."

They crossed the castle to the main chamber tower. The Lord's Room was at the top, encompassing nearly the whole floor. Maester Luwin led Jellal into Lord Stark's room. Inside, Catelyn and Ned ceased their arguing upon Jellal's entry. Catelyn turned away, glaring at the fireplace. "Lord Stark," Jellal said with a bow. "You called for me."

Ned nodded, a look of defeat on his face. "The King has honored me with an offer for the position of Hand of the King. I've decided to accept."

"Are you sure, my Lord?" Jellal asked. "You don't seem quite certain."

"I must." He glanced back at Catelyn. "I also know Lord Dreyar wishes three wizards brought to the capital as well."

"Yes...he wants our strongest ones." Jellal deepened his frown. "My Lord, did something happen? Some reason you've accepted the King's offer?"

Ned sighed, nodding his head. "Cat, tell him."

Catelyn reluctantly turned around. "I received a letter from my sister. She took her son with her to the Eyrie. She said Jon Arryn was murdered."

"Murdered?"

"Yes." Ned wrapped his arm around Catelyn to comfort her. "By the Lannisters."

"The capital is full of nothing but Lannisters. My Lord, you can't!"

"I must," Ned snapped. "I have to do this. To find Jon Arryn's killer...to bring them to justice."

Pentos...

Daenerys Targaryen watched in silent horror as Dothraki men and women danced and fucked around the gathering. She snuck a glance at her new husband, Khal Drogo. He was tall and strong, and he frightened her. Shouting drew her attention back to the crowd. A man was pleasuring himself with a dancer, but another man shoved him away, wanting the woman for himself. They began to fight until the first man disemboweled the other, and cut off his braid. Daenerys heard Drogo whispering to himself and noticed a look of glee on his face. Despair filled her heart. This was her wedding, yet she felt invisible, like one of the many gifts stacked beside Drogo. Two men approached. They were not like the Dothraki, nor the Pentoshi. One was older, in his fifties, he was fully clothed and carried a sword at his side. The other was a little younger, with auburn hair slicked back. Both men were handsome, and both looked like knights. Khal Drogo spoke to the men, inviting them closer. Daenerys noticed two things Drogo said, "Jorah the Andal" and "Gildarts the Ace".

The men bowed and approached further. "A small gift for the new Khaleesi," Jorah said. "Songs and histories from the Seven Kingdoms."

He held out the books to her, and Daenerys took them. "Thank you, Ser," she said softly.

Gildarts approached. Daenerys noticed his left arm and left leg were completely covered in armor. "Pelts from the forests of the North to the sand dunes of Dorne, Khaleesi. Furs of creatures you don't find anywhere else in the world."

A young bloodrider took the pelts from Gildarts, stacking them with the small pile of gifts for Daenerys. She smiled at the two men. "Are you both from my country?"

"Ser Jorah Mormont of Bear Island," Jorah answered with a proud raise of his chin.

"Ser Gildarts Clive of Alberona in the Vale," Gildarts answered.

They bowed again to took their leave, allowing the next guest to present their gifts. As they walked away, Viserys Targaryen ran after them. "You two!" They stopped and bowed to Viserys. "Why are two respectable knights doing in Pentos? And why are you attending my sister's wedding?"

"I've been in Pentos for awhile, your Grace," Jorah said. "I came to give the new Khalessi a gift...and offer my services to the rightful king."

Viserys raised his chin a little higher, feeling his pride grow. "And I shall accept those services. I welcome any true, loyal servants."

"Thank you, your Grace."

Viserys turned to Gildarts. "And you? I've heard of you. You're a mage of Fairy Tail. Do wish to serve the rightful king as well?"

"Forgive me," Gildarts began with a smile, "I'm simply passing by. I've been in Essos for three years now...completing a mission given to me by my Master. I wanted to extend a kindness to your sister."

"A kindness? Perhaps I should burn those pelts you gave her. Could be laced with something that infects the skin." Viserys put a hand on his sword. "I've invested a lot in my pretty sister. Can't have her damaged."

"As you will," Gildarts said with a shrug. "I have no motive and I don't wish death or disease upon your family. If you're worried I'm a spy, I'm not. I'm leaving for Volantis now."

"Of course a spy would deny being a spy," Viserys countered.

"Truer words were never spoken." Gildarts huffed, and took a step back. "Now, if you'll excuse me, your grace...I must take my leave."

Winterfell...

The King, Lord Stark, and several men were mounting their horses and preparing for the hunt. Nyssa watched from the Wizard's Tower in Jellal's office. She shook her head, unable to contain her anger. "No."

Jellal rolled his eyes and sighed. "You can't refuse, Nyssa. These are my, Lord Stark, and Master Makarov's orders."

Nyssa turned around to face him. "Sending Cana, Gray, and myself is a mistake. The North will be left defenseless-"

"The North will be fine," he assured her. "Listen, Lord Stark accepted the King's offer because he needs to investigate the truth behind Jon Arryn's death. Our duty is to serve the Warden of the North. You three will need to protect Lord Stark and his daughters."

Nyssa raised her chin slightly. "Protecting them will prove difficult once Sansa and Prince Joffery marry."

Jellal stepped closer to Nyssa. "This is serious. Lysa Arryn is claiming the Lannisters killed her husband, and are plotting to overthrow King Robert. Lord Stark will bring them to justice...and he needs allies he can truly trust."

"You're telling me that my purpose for going to King's Landing isn't to serve Master Makarov...but to protect the Starks above all else?"

"Yes," he whispered. "Your loyalty must be to the Starks."


end of chapter 1