Chapter One

Jen

I loved the sea. Being on a cramped caravel was natural to a woman who had spent her whole life in an island kingdom. I wore breeches when I chose and became an unofficial member of the crew, much to my father's ire. The small sailing ship had rounded Essos and bypassed most of the continent of Westeros to bring my family to my wedding. The kingdom of Camelot was much like the so called Seven Kingdoms in that it was made up of Great Houses as well as lesser nobles. We just had more of a magical problem plaguing our lands. Even today, many thousands of years later, it pains me to call my people a plague. Alas, they are gone, much like the kingdom I once pledged my life to protect. All that remains of Camelot, Albion, Westeros, and their people are but legends and songs. Verses about a way of life that veer so far from the straight and narrow it grows hard to remember the truth, and I survived it. This is the tale of the triumph and fall of honor, loyalty, and purity; the rise and destruction of truth and love and anything good in the world. Three headed dragons or great dragons could not save it; not fish nor wolves, nor lions nor flowers, nor stags nor suns. The North remembers, and I am a woman of the North. I married a Stark of Winterfell, bore Northern children, and defended the North until it was no more. And I await the return of the Kings, of the North and of Albion, for the darkness to fade and the sun to shine out the clearer. Until that day, I will remember, and pass my tale on to the generations so that the last heroes are never forgotten. I will not forget. The North remembers, and a Pendragon is three things, courage, strength, and magic. Let courage sustain this old soul.

Albion was not large, not much larger than some kingdoms in Essos. But we were strong. Strength and Courage, my father always said. Strength to fight and courage to lead. If only that was the whole truth. My father, Uther, was a shrewd politician, and knew he needed outside allies, and we were barely politically stable as it was. The Crown could not afford to favor one house over another, and this is where Westeros came in. Foreign enough to intrigue the minds of the people, and hopefully tavern rumor, but well known enough not to seem too suspicious. Father then sent out spies into all of Westeros to gather intel on the Crown and Great Houses as well as the lives and happiness of the smallfolk, who we called commoners. His original intention was to have me marry Joffery Baratheon, a child five years my junior. However, this was not to be as the reports that came back spoke of a horrible creature who was possibly the product of incest. My father loved me enough not to force me to marry the scum, and instead turned his eye North, having heard nothing but praise about the Stark family. They were regarded most highly for honor as well as mercy, something it was becoming apparent that the people of the South lacked. To my absolute surprise and utmost joy, Father gave me a choice, Baratheon or Stark. My choice was simple.

We already had some ties to the Crown of Westeros established through trade, and they were strong enough to hold without marriage being the cornerstone. With my people taken care of, I was free to choose. Stark or Baratheon? I am ashamed to say I never thought twice. Once aboard, I immediately set out to become a sailor, something I did quite successfully. I was swabbing the deck, thankfully wearing a skirt, when a page relayed that I was to go to the Captain's (Father's) quarters. As I entered, I called out "Yes, Father?"

"Jen, dear," That did not bode well for me. "As you well know, Arthur has been married for four years."

I nodded my head. "Yes, Father. I know." My brother, younger by a dawn, had married at six and ten in order to keep peace in the realm.

"It is possible, though I pray that it does not come to be true, that one of them may not be able to produce heirs."

Both of us breathed deeply. We'd all suspected it, but none could bear to tell Arthur or Gwen, who desperately wanted children. "Are you saying?"

"Yes. If, in fact, you marry, produce heirs, and these thoughts about Arthur and Guinevere are true, then you or your children will assume the throne."

"But what of Lord Robb? His son will be Lord of Winterfell. His children will know nothing but the North. Can you ask me to take that from him?"

"I will not be alive for much longer. My body wears thin. After this journey, I do not know how long it will be until it is Arthur who reigns." My father was not a kind man. He burned people at the stake for even being suspected of magic. Morgana's betrayal was the last straw. You could see it in his graying hair, and his taut face. Uther Pendragon had always been strong. He was gruff and in charge, a king who had authority and used it. To see him so vulnerable with me, it was almost frightening. "Amena," My family rarely used titles or formal names. "Amena Angharad, please. Our kingdom is not as stable as we used to be. Not after Morgana's betrayal. Please, give me this. Tell me that a Pendragon will always sit on the throne, even if it is your second or third child, even if the name is Stark."

That must have been a blow to his ego. Father loved family, and he was a proud ruler. To have a Stark on the throne, it would crush him. I gave him a sad smile. "If my lord husband agrees, it will be done." I did not know Robb Stark, but I bore him no ill will. And to have a child that was never truly yours, always belonging to another people, I couldn't give someone such a burden.

"Land-ho!" The scout's cry reverberated throughout my body. We were in the North, thank goodness I loved the cold, and soon enough I would no longer be a dragon, but a Wolf. The Wolf Who Breathed Fire.

Thank you so much for reading! If you liked this, or had questions or comments, please review! Also, since I finally have a computer of my own, I will be able to work on Consequences of Translation

THANK YOU SO MUCH!