Yzavian is pronounced like Why-zay-vi-yun

"Yzavian Arturian," speaking in Dothraki

"Yzavian Arturian," speaking in High Valyrian

"Yzavian Arturian," speaking in Common Tongue

Yzavian Arturian, thoughts

Yzavian Arturian, dragons speaking to humans; humans to dragons; in mind. Horses speaking to humans, humans speaking to horses, in mind.

Arya is 12

Sansa is 15

Lya (Jon) is 16

Bran is 13

Rickon is 5

Myrcella is 13

Robb is 16

Tommen is 9

Yzavian is 17

Season 1,

Yzavian Arturian rode on his horse, Daemonfyre towards Winterfell. Daemonfyre had been gifted to him by Tywin Lannister after he killed his first man. He suspected, he was saying 'Congratulations, for your killing'. He had been seven at the time. Now, he had accumulated a total of seven horses. He had gotten all of them when he was seven, which was The Year Of Killing, as he had nicknamed it.

He hardly remembered anything about the time before he showed up at Casterly Rock, except he had a brother and Father that were obsessed with horses, and two aunts, and something about athletic men with lack of clothes. So, he had always had a close connection to horse, and a near obsession with Dragons.

He loved anything that had to do with Dragons, he collected cloths from the servants, and often asked them to sew Dragons onto them. Soon the maids eventually taught him how to sew and embroider, which were normally for Ladies. The only thing that he hated about the Dragons were the Targaryens. For some reason, he absolutely detested the Targaryen's, it wasn't the incest (it was none of his business), or the insanity involved in them. The first of them like Jaehaerys Targaryen he actually admired. Jaehaerys was a cool man with a wispy beard, that he thought would be a great grandfather. But Aemon the Mad, he hated, simply detested. He really wished the idiot Mad King had died in the flames, not from the Kingslayer slaying him.

He quickly glanced at the Kingslayer, Jaime Lannister. Lannisters were not always a rotten sort, besides Tywin Lannister, Jaime Lannister, and maybe The Queen, Cersei Lannister, he heard her fits were violent. He had never met Cersei, but she was said to be a bitch. So maybe the whole lot. The Kingslayer polished his sword as he rode his horse, Honor or Glory he believed. His hair was bright and seemed to stand out against the white of the snow. People had said that Jaime Lannister was a handsome man, he couldn't see it because he was attracted to pots, not sticks, though he supposed sticks were attached to pots and could become pots. "Be careful, out here," he called out to the Kingslayer, "The Northerners speak of Wildings that come from behind the Wall, to teach us their savagery, and don't leave till the haunt our daydreams and nightmares."

Kingslayer smiled at him. "You speak of tales, The Northern Men are simply men who blind us southerners with tales to scare us out from the Wasteland they call home." Jaime Lannister put his sword in his sheath, and took off towards the distance. Glory or Honor kicking snow in Daemonfyre's eyes. Daemonfyre snorted, clearly angry at Glory's or Honor's bluntness of disrespect.

Daemonfyre, and all of his horses were set in an arch. All of his other horses denied anyone to ride them, besides him. Daemonfyre was a pure black healthy horse, with streaks of red on his body. On Daemonfyre's left was Draegen, a white horse with black spots. All of his horses were exoctic, he always wondered where Tywin Lannister had bought them. On his right was Bloodfyre, a blood red horse who came up to the height of ten feet. According to Tywin, Bloodfyre and Daemonfyre were brothers. Left to Bloodfyre was Yungun, a pure white horse with hints of blue on his fur, Yungun was his fastest horse, and had been with him the shortest amount of times. Left to Bloodfyre was Jhonhun, a purple horse who was a proud horse, and a greater horse besides his arrogance. Behind them was Hun, a light purple horse, who was mated to Koi, which was his white stallion.

"Aye. I think I see Castle Winterfell." He called this out to the house on wheels, where Queen Cersei, Prince Joffrey, Prince Tommen, and Princess Myrcella were stationed. "Tell Prince Joffrey to come out so he can greet Winterfell as The Crown Prince, Ser." He said this to a nearby Kingsguard knight. Did he mention he included the Baratheons under as a lesser branch of the Targaryens. He hated all of them, well maybe except Myrcella, Tommen, and Renly, he had never met Stannis, so he couldn't decide on him yet. He hoped Stannis wasn't anything like the Whoremonger King, for his own sake.

They suddenly stopped, to have enough time for Joffrey to get on his horse, and get to the front. "The Prince takes hours to get on his borrowed horse," he whispered to his horse. Daemonfyre neighed in agreeance. The prince quickly got out of the house on wheels, and looked angry. Prince Joffrey quickly swung his legs around the horse, and charged into the small distance of Winterfell castle.

Everyone followed behind him. The Northern castle was large, well that would be a real understatement. He gasped at all the snow, he liked snow, but there wasn't a lot of snow in Casterly Rock, or King's Landing which had seemed to be his new home, since he had been staying there since he was thirteen.

He quickly swung off of Daemonfyre. His cloak swinging against the wind. His hair was styled and it's usual brown braid, he always kept it long. His eyes sparkled with curiosity, and mirth. Lord Eddard Stark was known for his loyalty, even though he had a bastard. He was considered a bastard or a peasant, since he had no recollection of who his father or mother was. His skin shined against the white snow, and seemed to radiate color. He was always darker than the people of the Westerosi, or just one shade lighter than the darker skinned ones.

He quickly waited outside the gates, so the King and the Royal Family and their entourage could pass by. His horses neighed, starting to get restless. He was technically there to protect Tyrion, his surrogate father, who had probably stopped at a brothel at the North, that was usually what he did. He didn't care that Tyrion went to a brothel, almost five times a week, it was his life, not his. He had heard it was Tyrion's way to vent, since his first wife had been a hired whore, paid to love him.

He quickly got on Bloodfyre, switching up from Daemonfyre. Daemonfyre played with the dirt on the ground, drawing scribbles with his hoof. He sighed, looking at his horses, hoping that the stables would take care of them. Seven horses would be a big adjustment to the Winterfell stables, he would be surprised if they could fit all of them. Yungun and Jhonhun could stay together since they had mated. Daemonfyre and Bloodfyre could stay together, and Draegen could stay by himself since he wasn't one to get along with the other horses. Hun and Koi would stay together, they were after all inseparable.

Ser Chyris, a friend of his came up beside him on his horse, Gloria and patted him on his back. Gloria neighed at Draegen, somehow the two had entered some type of horse courting. "Friend, the King has introduced himself the the Northerners and you can come in now."

Chyris was a handsome fellow, and the ladies would have been all over him, if his wedding ring wasn't so proudly displayed on his finger. With dark brown hair, almost as dark as the lightest haired Stark, and forest green eyes he was one of the pretty knights. He was only seven and twenty summers old, and yet had five children. Him and his wife, Martha sure worked hard on their children, the oldest was eleven. He was sworn to the Baratheon's, but him and his family had been staying in King's Landing since he was a squire.

"Aye. Are there suitable preparations for my horses." He quickly rubbed Draegen's hair, Draegen neighed in annoyance, and continued rubbing his nose into Gloria's mane, sniffing her. Draegen was a weird horse to him. "You and your horses, I swear you are queer boy, many boys your age would have been running off to brothels, and here you are worrying about your horses. I even heard the Greyjoy boy has taken the oldest Stark boy to the whorehouse. I suspect that is where the Imp is now." He quickly felt his cheeks get hot, he felt glad for his peach colored skin thankful, no one saw his blush.

"Aye, Tyrion is at the brothel. But it is none of your business, friend. Do not forget where you came, and who is above you. Tyrion is the heir of Casterly Rock, The Lannisters which happen to be one of the richest lord families at the time, even the crown that you serve is indebted to them." Chyris reigned in Gloria, and held up his hands in defense. "I meant no harm to you friend, I know you think of Tyrion as a father." He quickly readjusted his positioning on Bloodfyre. He was taller than everyone, since Bloodfyre was came up to ten feet, it was a struggle getting up on him.

"I don't think of him as a father, I know he is my father. He might not be my blood, but he is to me." And with that note he entered Winterfell, Winterfell was a great castle, big and great, some people said that it was built by giants and Bran the builder, he instantly knew that it must have took only giants to build Winterfell, it was magnificent and even better than King's landing which smelled of piss, shit, and sex.

"Isn't it magnificent," Chyris asked. "I envy the Northmen of their castles, that is for certain, they can take their wall, their night watch, their legends, but their castles I would like to keep. I wish I owned a castle, but I was born a peasant, born to grovel under the feet of the people that live in the castle's." He lived in the Castle at King's Landing, he was expected to, many people suspected Tywin was grooming him to be the next Lord of Casterly Rock, and would mary Myrcella Baratheon, so the line would be Lannister still. He detested that fact, Myrcella was a pretty girl but she was five years younger than him.

"It is quite extraordinary." The courtyard was bare, since everyone was inside probably feasting on the great feast. "Let's get onto the feast before all the good food gets eaten." He sighed, and wiped his sweating brow even though it was as cold as dry ice in the room. "I have to take my horses to the stables." Chyris laughed, and headed toward the castles. Draegen neighed at Gloria in goodbye. "Take my Gloria with you, see to it she has a warm stall, and hay. It has been a long trip."

"Yes, it has. I wonder why the King has sent for us to come to Winterfell in such a rush." he quickly brushed Gloria long mane, the sandy and warmness making him smile. "The Reasons why I love horses is because they are strange creatures, the only thing that I remember about my family is that they loved horses. I don't even remember my own father's name, or brothers. The Maester said that my lack of oxygen caused me to have memory loss, and horses make me feel...at home." Chyris nodded, at lost of words. He quickly led the eight horses around the castle, till he found the familiar smell of horse shit, vomit, and possibly piss. He quickly leaned up against the wall, and watched all eight of the horses walk by slowly into the stables. He quickly entered the stables being overwhelmed by the smell of...horse. "Hello? Is there anyone in here? STABLE BOY," he yelled quickly.

The stables were overcrowded at least the middle of it, there were about four stalls left. "Who are you?" He quickly turned towards the source of the voice, and immediately stopped in his tracks. She was a girl, but she wore pants like some of the peasant girls he had seen that could not afford dresses, on her was a dark brown leather shirt that he had seen the blacksmiths wear, and she wore worn leather shoots that looked to be covered in horse shit.

What had made him silent, though was her appearance. She was one of the rare girls that could have been beautiful even when she was covered in dirt, or horse shit in her case. She had skin the color of the lightest almond he could find, long dark black curls adorned her face, stopping at the start of her neck. Her eyes were a dark black color, and entranced him with how wild they looked. "Might, I ask you again. Who are you?" She picked up an ax, by the doorway, he noticed it was a splitting ax, and was covered in few wood shavings on the blade.

He quickly snapped out of trance, and said his name. "My name is Yzavian Arturian, servant to the proud Lions, the Lannisters, protector of Tyrion Lannister, the future heir to Casterly Rock." She studied him for a second, her eyes calculating. "I've heard about you, the Northerners call you the man of salt and the sea, some say that you in battle is like seeing a sex god have sex. Though I've come to the point of not being impressed. You are nothing but a boy, not a man, younger than me it seems, and possess no weapons."

He blinked, and blinked again. This lady was quite hostile, even though she seemed to be as soft as a petal. "Since I've given, you my name, might as well give me yours, my lady." She turned around a small smile tugging her lips, "I'm no lady, I'll have you know my name, though, Isasorla Nereth is the name, my friends call me Truth." She then turned around and led the horses in their respective stalls, what surprised him was that she knew exactly where to put them, in the exact order he would have arranged them. He looked at her in wonder, "Can you please leave now, it would be much appreciated, i'll put hay in all of your stalls."

He quickly turned around, then stopped in his tracks and looked back at the girl as she slowly loaded the hay into the stalls almost mechanically. "What is a girl, such as yourself doing here in the stables." Isasorla stopped putting the hay in the stalls, the horses neighed in annoyance, as they had to wait longer for their hay longer than expected. He sent a smiled their way, to say his apologies.

"Will you leave once I tell you, Arturian?" Her voice clearly identified that she was annoyed. He thought for a second, this girl was beautiful, but she was way to hostile, but she was an enigma, and so was he, and he always questioned his fellow enigma. "My family has always served the House of Winterfell by tending to their horses, or being a blacksmith. However my father, Jak Nereth married my mother who was from Dorne, who only gave him one child which was me, and since our family has tended to the horses and steel of Winterfell, I shall take on the duties. I learn under my father for blacksmith skills, and I am the caretaker of all the horses of winterfell. Now Servant to the lions, can you please let me do my work?"

Her story was very interesting but not unknown of, when women could not give their husbands sons, they birthed them daughters, either the family died out, or the daughter's took over what the son's position would have been. "Yes, Lady Isasorla of House Nereth." He bowed, a smile on his lips as he saw he had annoyed the pretty girl. "As I told you before, Servant to the Lions, I am not a Lady my mother is, give her the required bows, I am very sure she would be very happy to receive them. Go to the feast, before your bone freeze over, I know you Southerners cannot handle the cold as well as we."

He quickly looked over at her lack of layers, and felt almost petty with his enormous amount of layers. "Will I see you at the feast, Isasorla?" He asked this, he would want to explore the girl that had such enchanting beauty that it had left him, who was not much enamored with girls, wanting more. "You might, if you quickly hurry to the feast, so I can get my work done." He quickly ran toward to castle, hearing her melodious laughter following him.

He smiled, she was quite enchanting, though confusing because of her hostile behavior. He quickly entered the room where the feast was held, and inhaled the smells of delicious, and moist watering food. He quickly spotted the King grabbing one of the serving girls breasts and sitting her down on his enormous lap, he quickly released a hearty laugh that shook the whole room. At the top was an enormous table where the Royal Family sat, and so did the Starks. It seemed that they were sitting on a stage of some sorts causing them to be seen by all the lesser or peasants.

About seven larger and more wider tables, however with more seats and less space. He quickly saw a space opened at the fourth table by a girl with dark black hair, and pale skin. He quickly decided to take the seat. "Hello, my name is Yzavian Arturian, and is this seat reserved for anyone?" He quickly asked the girl not really noticing her facial features due to her looking at the floor, and drowning a goblet of what he assumed was alcohol. She quickly tilted her head up, and gazed at him. He quickly drowned in her deep doe grey eyes. She had a heart shaped head, pale skin with no blemishes, luscious red lips, and curly dark black hair.

"Yes, it happens to not be open, you are welcome to sit down." She motioned her hands to the seat beside her, he noticed that she happened to have a slur with her voice. "I've heard about you, they say your fighting skills are impeccable, they say your loyalty is unwinnable, which is probably why you have stayed with the Lannisters for so long." He quickly nodded, he was good in battle, at least he thought. Many people had congratulated him upon being good at battle, however he didn't care, he only participated in Tourneys so Tyrion would be proud of him. He had a few golden dragons saved up, enough to buy him a nice old castle. He was richer than the Royal Family since they were millions indebted to the Lannisters.

"Fair Maiden, let's not talk about battles, this is a time of celebration, brothers have been united. The Houses of Baratheon and Starks shall be joined as one united front. Might I ask what your name was." He quickly filled up his plate with a few boiled potatoes, carrots, and some wings of the chicken. She quickly drowned yet another glass of the unidentified alcohol. "Lya Snow, is the name, and yes I am the Bastard of Winterfell." She quickly looked at him with hopeful eyes.

He had heard the Bastards weren't treated desirable. He had always wondered about the bastard of the Stark family, the great Eddard Stark who had soiled his name by producing a bastard with an unidentified woman. But the beautiful girl before him didn't deserve any of that prejudice. "That's a beautiful name, for a beautiful girl." He smiled at her, "The name however does seem familiar.

The girl blushed, her action were slurred all though cute. "I was named after my aunt, Lyanna Stark." He quickly remembered the beautiful Lady of the North, that many people sang songs about. "Aye, a befitting name for a beautiful Lady like yourself, Lady Lyanna Stark was after all the cause of Robert's Rebellion."

The girl's smile suddenly turned sour, her eyes became as hard as the steal he battled with. "I am not a Lady nor a Stark simply a bastard." Unshed tears quickly made themselves known in the corner of her eyes. She quickly stood up ready to leave, "My Lady, I meant not to offend-" He quickly reached to grab her arm, noticing she was wearing a badly sewed dress, over it however was a long, and furred winter coat.

She stumbled, about to use the table to catch herself, he quickly noticed all eyes were on the Bastard of Winterfell. He quickly caught her in his arms. He inhaled her scent, she was not as tall as he thought she would be, maybe that was because he was about seven feet tall. She was six feet, Stark men were a couple inches taller than her, her head fell perfectly under his chest. She smelled of fresh roses and honey, which was ironic, because no flowers grew in the North. As soon as her head hit his chest, she knocked out. He quickly looked at the table where the Starks and Northern Family were sitting. Lady Stark looked enraged at the scene, Robb, Bran, Eddard, and Rickon looked concerned. While Sansa Stark looked mad, and criticising at the scene before her, because her precious Joffrey eyes weren't on her.

Joffrey looked concerned, but for a person who knew what he was actually like, knew he was uncaring. Myrcella and Tommen looked confused, yet worried at someone they didn't even know that well. He smiled at them. He quickly looked over at Sansa. Lord Eddard Stark really did produce healthy children. While Lya however resembled and was the Embodiment of a rare Northern Flower. Sansa resembled an exotic southern flower, which were exactly what the Tully's were...Southern People. She had pale skin, rosy cheeks and full red lips, which matched the color of her vibrant red hair, she had vibrant blue eyes, and he could even see from a few feet away what color her eyes were.

Sansa blushed, noticing that Yzavian Arcturians eyes were on hers. People had said that Tywin Lannister was grooming the foreigner to become the next Lord of Casterly Rock, over his own son, The Imp, and marry Myrcella Baratheon, who wouldn't stop gushing about the older boy at the dinner table with an awestruck look in her eyes. Yzavian Arturian was a handsome boy, really he shouldn't even be considered a boy, since of his looks. He had to be at least seven feet tall. His hair was long and brown, though the brown did seem quite discolored, his skin color was dark. His eyes however were breathtaking, a pale violet color, almost like the tales, she heard of the Targaryens. His lips were plump, and a pink color, just wanting to be kissed. His face held no blemishes, and he had muscles, unlike the prince. He had actually muscles that seemed to be straining to be released from his coat.

The prince suddenly looked like a regular peasant boy, compared to the boy right infront of her clutching onto her Bastard half sister in front of her. She felt an overwhelming sense of jealous, as she stared at the arms of the boy that contained her half sister. She quickly stuffed a piece of lemon tart in her mouth to push the jealousy away. "Sansa," her mom says chastising her actions, "Chew first, we are in the company of royalty."

"It's okay, dear." The Queen said to her mother, "I understand, how girls get when they find something they want, and it's simply….appetizing."

Yzavian quickly shook himself out of his thoughts. He quickly took Lya away from the prying eyes of the peasants as they looked at her with hatred. He left his plate on the table, his belly filled with hunger. He would find one of the servants to take her to her chambers.

What did you think? Review please, it fuels me to write faster. Who do you want to be in Yzavian's harem?