Okay I have written chapter three. I still haven't gotten a Beta, but will be doing so soon. I am ashamed of all the typos in chapter two. I looks as if it was written by a thirteen year old. I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. I decided not to go back and edit the chapter as it causes a notification every time I make a change and I feel that you as my readers got the just of what i was trying to convey to you. I am also a South African so I use British english not american english, so some of my words will be perceived as a typos but they are not.

The introductory stage of this story is now complete. From here on the plots will thicken, and plans carefully laid out will be scattered to the wind by wild cards appearing. I have dragon speech occurring a few times in the chapter, for the most part translations are provided in text but if you are wondering Kodaav means Bear.

Please leave constructive criticism, reviews and ideas. GOT is a diverse and complex world, my mind is reeling with all the different plots i have to keep track of, each change made by the Dragonborn will cause ripples which I have to account for.


BJORN

Dark rings surrounded Bjorn's eyes. His back rested against the door to Bran's room. He had kept a silent vigil by the door. His vigil may have been silent but it was not alone, all of Bran's family members where there too canine and human alike. The older members were still awake but Sansa, Arya and Rickon had all passed out. Robb was still out like a light in his room, having pushed his magic to its limits. Rickon was sleeping curled up on his mother lap. Arya had curled up against Bjorn's side, Sansa was at the other.

The entire pack of direwolf pups had congregated around Bjorn's legs. They slept in shifts, one pup always keeping a look out for new developments. The door did not stop shuddering the whole time they had been there. The runes, glowing with their arcane light, kept the door shut but it was slowly draining Bjorn dry of magicka. The ambient magic in the keep was not enough to sustain the runes, with most of it being absorbed by the Godswood.

Unheard to normal human ears, Bjorn heard the heartbeat of the werewolf that was Bran slow down. The attempts to break through the door became less forceful as the beast blood inside Bran's body calmed. This could not have come at a better time as the Bjorn was now running on fumes. When the door stopped shuddering, Bjorn cut the flow of magic to the runes. The rune scheme slowly lost their light and power.

"He is human again," Bjorn's words did not cause immediate action. The people around him were all exhausted, being emotionally and physically drained from the transpired events. "Come Arya, Sansa, it is time you return to the land of the wakeful, both my arms are dead." The two sisters stirred slowly, blinking the sleep from their eyes.

"You know Bjorn, you make an excellent pillow," said Arya as she got up. The wolves moved away when their masters got up. Bjorn stretched, his joints popping rather loudly as he did. This was accompanied by his yawn, which sounded more beast than man.

"I know all of you want to see Bran now, but I think that his parent should be allowed in first. Ned, we will have to move him to a new room to. This one will be wrecked." Ned and Catelyn moved to the front of the small crowd, ashen faces with ring not dissimilar to those possessed by the Nord. The door opened slowly.

It was as if a tempest had been unleased within the confines of the warded space. The bed was shredded; bits of bedding, feathers, pieces of cloth and splintered frames were all that remained. The wardrobe was in a similar state along with its contents. Curled up in a foetal position was Bran. He was also as clothed as the day he was born. The dark mop of hair on his head comparable to a bird's nest, with bits and pieces of wood and feathers caught in it. The floor had gouge marks, being the only thing along with the ceiling not to have a layer of magic protecting it.

Ned moved over to pick up his son. He wrapped his cloak around him and hugged him close as he lifted him up. Ned walked past Bjorn. Their eyes met briefly, in that instant words were not necessary for Ned to describe his gratitude. Bjorn remained in the room, giving the family some privacy. He watched Ned carry his son to their master bedroom, two packs of wolves following him, one human one animal.

At a very reserved pace Bjorn made his way to his quarters. He regretted for the first time choosing a top floor in a tower as his bedroom, the slayer of hundreds of dragons fell onto his bed unceremoniously. Sleep came within moments.

Bjorn found himself in a skeleton forest, the trees bare of all foliage with bark whiter than dried bone. He moved through the trees. The ground beneath was bare and more than once he nearly tripped on a knarred root. A raven's caw drew his attention. Perched on a tree branch in front of him was an albino raven. Three beady red eyes starred back into his blue ones. The avian twisted its head nearly 180 degrees. It cawed as it returned its head to the normal position.

The raven took wing and flew a few yards away before landing on a tree again. It cawed again, indignantly, egging him on to follow it. This went on for miles, the woods around never changing as he moved through it. The raven disappeared when he came to a corpse of trees. Not normal trees though. All of them had faces with serene expressions carved into them. These were werewoods, they too were leaf less. The faces all looked at a stone centred in the small clearing that the trees surrounded.

Slowly he moved forwards as he drew near voices began to chat, they sang the same verse over and over. It was strangely familiar harmony. Written on the stone in the Dragonish script he knew as well as his mother tongue, was the chant he kept on hearing.
Realisation set in as he continued reading, the voices becoming clearer and clearer the further he progressed.

Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin, naal ok zin los vahriin,( Dragonborn, Dragonborn, by his honor is sworn,)

Wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal! (To keep evil forever at bay!)

Ahrk fin norok paal graan fod nust hon zindro zaan, (And the fiercest foes rout when they hear triumph's shout,)

Dovahkiin, fah hin kogaan mu draal (Dragonborn, for your blessing we pray)

It was the old song about the Dagonborn, sung by his ancestors; well… it was the first verse of it. He also sung it, as a small child, not really knowing the words or their meaning. However as they were written now they had power. This was a reminder he realised. Though he might no longer be part of a prophecy, his soul was given a duty when it was created. He was bound to this duty with honour and soul.

His duty was to keep the evil at bay. To never let it harm those who could not defend themselves from it. A single line at the bottom of the song verse struck him to the core, it was not part of the song verse, but closely resembled it. It was also in Dragonish, making their meaning and power so much more profound than had they been written in common. Wah dein fin vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal (To keep the evil forever at bay). He decided there that those words would be his motto from now on, but he would change the first word to make it a family motto. This epiphany caused the woods around him to change. It was as his Kyne had breathed life back into it.

Bjorn's dreams became a blur of colours and sound after that, his mind having had little rest the last few days. As it processed and sorted information, knowledge that was not his own also began to take root. Spells he had never heard of nor used became like old habits. Shouts of power etched into his dragon soul, as world already known to him gained new meaning.

Two days of uninterrupted sleep later saw Bjorn waking up more refreshed and energized than he had ever been. He took his time bathing himself; he cropped his beard short again, along with cutting his hair significantly shorter, ending just above his jawline. Finding the length it had been at the last month annoying. Longer hair was great and all but it tended to get very grimy and caught up dirt like a mop.

When he entered the dining area of Winterfell he was tackled by Bran. The young wolf hugging him with strength deceptive of his size, the Stark's scent had also changed, smelling much more like a wolf than of a man. "I see you are up and about. How do you feel?"

"I feel great; my senses are so sharp, it is as if I had been living with cotton in my nose and ears." Bran Stark looked different to. He was taller and had more muscle on him than a nine year old ought to have. He was no longer the skinny youth he was before his fall.

"You should thank your brother; I just made you walk. Robb, he saved your life."

"I did, but who taught him how heal? You made everyone worry you know. You slept like the dead, Jon tried to wake you after the first day, but he is missing an eyebrow now. You sent a fireball at him in your sleep." Bjorn chuckled, a deep rumbling sound like gravel grinding together. He followed Bran to the table, the food available was plentiful but I looked as if there had already been one meal eaten here by a group of people. He seated himself and began eating immediately, having gone two days without food tends to hunger a man out.

"I don't hate you for what you did," said Bran, his voice softer and less excitable. "I would have said yes had you been able to offer me." Bjorn's seemed to sag as if an invisible weight had been lifted off of him.

"That is a great relief. How do you feel emotionally? I know becoming a werewolf tends to make one more aggressive."

"Not so much as you would think. I am able to keep it under control for the most part, but only time will tell if can keep myself in, it has only been two days. I went out last night; I ran through the woods as a beast. I will have to practice a lot, when I turn I have difficulty going against my instincts. I can also do this really intimidating growl now when I am a human." Bran demonstrated this by growling at Bjorn. While the sound was intimidating, Bran's look was not, this was a source of great amusement to the Nord who just laughed which caused Bran to huff with exasperation

"Was anybody aware of the fact you went out last night?" The young boy was given a look by Bjorn, similar to his mother when he did something irresponsible.

"Yeah, Sansa knew, she helped me out of the keep. She told me what you did; she seemed to know more about the whole thing than any of the others. I also know that you slept for two day because you used all your magicka. Jon knew, after some study, that those wards wouldn't have stayed active unless someone kept them so. Thank you from keeping me from hurting anybody."

"Think nothing of it; you're a little brother to me. Can you remember what caused you to fall?" It was a well-known fact that Bran had excellent balance and that he could climb a wall even in the rain.

"I knew you were going to ask eventually but I can't. I can barely remember the events of the day before."

"Don't worry about it. Your alive and if I must say so myself, you came out on top. Will you be traveling to the King's Landing with your father and me?" Bjorn had decided roughly the same time he knew Ned would be traveling south as the new hand of the king, that he would follow, the Lord Stark.

"No, if I go then only Robb and Rickon would be here and that would not be fair to them. I am staying here in Winterfell, the king will be leaving tomorrow at first light though, but the king's brother in law, the little man, Tyrion, will be staying here for another day before travelling with uncle Benjen and Jon to go see the Wall." The Nord raised an eyebrow, impressed with the maturity that Bran showed, as well as the consideration to him siblings being left behind.

"Bran, you are now the keeper of the Wolf's Blood, it is unlikely I will be giving it to anyone else in future. You are responsible for granting its power to those you deem worthy, five drops of your blood into a goblet of wine or water, if consumed knowingly and willingly is all that it will take to give someone the gift."

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It was a teary eyed affair come the next morn. The group set to depart south to King's Landing, had varying moods. Those of royal blood wanted to leave the cold damp North, whilst the Northerners and Nord, did not mind the cold weather having been born into or having living in it for a large portion of their lives. The royal wheelhouse had been fully packed and stocked for the journey down south.

Bjorn's horse, Shadowmere – named after the legendary horse of the Dark Brotherhood, had a coat darker than pitch, was fully saddled and ready for the journey. The horse's mother had passed on shortly after its birth and Bjorn had then taken the foal and raised it himself. It was not a normal horse, having been fed with food infused with magic, it had become a giant amongst horses. Standing at 20 hands, it was by far the largest horse in the North. It had to be, due to its rider being equally big amongst men.

Bjorn gave his apprentice a massive bear hug. Said apprentice was not expecting this and gave a small startled yelp of surprise. Bjorn released Jon, laughing at his apprentice's reaction. "Some fierce warrior you are,"

"I am fierce, but you make less noise than a cat when you want to. Be careful in the capital."

"Don't worry I will be. However death does not scare me nearly as much as it scares you mortals." Bjorn had recently revealed to Jon, the true depth of his immortality. Commanding his apprentice to run a blade through his chest and pull it out again. Jon reluctant at first could only stare in shock and morbid fascination as the wound sealed up again after he did as he was told.

"I have left you a book in my room. You can't miss it; it glows a bit and floats in the air. It is a grimoire, I have imparted the majority of my spell knowledge into it. However you will only have access to the spells you will be able to use efficiently, you need to practice your magic, as it is like any muscle and only grows stronger through continuous use." Bjorn's face went from teacher to serious commander within moments. "Jon it is of great importance that you give this letter to the Lord Commander when you get to Castle Black."

Jon accepted the letter handed to him. It was sealed in an envelope of yellowed paper. It was sealed with blue wax, the emblem of House Kodaav, the roaring bear, pressed into it. "I will personally hand this letter to him."

"Jon this is the last time I will be seeing you for a rather extended period of time. I am so proud of the man you have grown into," Bjorn's eyes had become a bit moist, and he blinked rapidly to hold back the tears. "As of today I am naming you my heir. I do not know if I will ever take on a mate and produce children of my own, and if I ever did have children I would want them to be like you." Jon was shocked. His entire body had frozen. Never in his life would he have dreamed of this happening. Bastards did not get much, if anything at all; they were usually seen as stains in a family. He considered himself lucky to have been taken on as an apprentice.

Had Bjorn not taken him on he would soon be riding with his uncle Benjen to take The Black. Now he was being named the heir to a House, not a big one mind you, since it only had two members as of now. He did not bother hiding his tears of joy as he embraced Bjorn. "You know it is not manly to cry," Said Bjorn hugging the young male back, "but we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard hearts. It shows that we are not made of stone. Take this seal. It is similar to the one I use, the bear is just smaller and it is not roaring yet."

Jon took the seal, it was a ring, there were words written on it below the bear but it was backwards. "What do those words say?"

"They are the motto for House Kodaav, of our house. Mu dein fin vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal (We keep the evil forever at bay), you know what those words mean. Think about their meaning as a whole, if you can give me the true meaning then I will teach you something I have never taught nor told anyone about."

"I will… Father, I will." It was now Bjorn's turn to freeze up. The mostly stoic Nord having a wave of emotion pass through him that he was unfamiliar with. His only reply was to hug Jon again.

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EDDARD

Eddard watched the interaction between his Thane and son. Sorrow welled up inside him as he saw the bond the two shared, similar to the bond shared between him and Robb. He wished he was that close with Jon, but he could never be. He loved his bastard, but his duty called him to favour his legitimate children.

He did not know what to expect of this journey south. He had a feeling of foreboding however. There was a malicious plot afoot in the capital and he would get to the bottom of it all.

"Ned, see to it that you are careful, there are far too many lions in king's Landing than I am comfortable with and I fear for your safety."

"My dear wife, I will be vigilant, don't worry so much. I worry more for those who threaten me. Bjorn is very protective of us all and our eldest daughter can do things to a man, that will make him soil himself at the mere sight of her." Sansa Stark had gotten herself a name in the North, the small folk called her the Scarlet justice. She never executed anyone, nor did she touch or poison them. When dealing her judgement she took no longer than a minute or two at most. The innocent was left with no recollection of what transpired between them and the eldest Stark daughter, the guilty were whimpering messes, incapable of talking about what happened to them, but became model citizens after it, many of whom had decided upon taking the black, in repentance of their crimes.

"I doubt a more honourable and loyal man than him has ever graced our lands and I have watched Sansa, work her magic on some of the more unsavoury criminals brought in for judgment. Send me a raven when you get to King's Landing." Catelyn knew that between the two of them Sansa and Bjorn could fend for themselves. She worried about Arya though but Bjorn put her worries about her to rest. She was the chosen of Lady Luck, no harm would befall her daughter.

"I will send one first thing my love; I will not sleep before the bird has taken flight."

Ned shared a kiss with his wife. It was short, but no less passionate, for he did not know how soon he would see his beloved again.

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BJORN

The procession moved at a steady pace down the King's Road, the mounted horses enjoying the pace set by the wheelhouse which housed the royal family. Bjorn rode a few feet behind the king and his liege lord. The two were in deep discussion catching up on the general events that had transpired in the other's lives since the last time that had met.

Shadowmere was a bit restless; he did not enjoy the pace the procession was moving at. Bjorn did not ride him as often as the horse would have liked and the mount was itching to gallop at full speed for miles and miles. The country side was unspoiled as they moved south. The wilderness of the North remaining mostly untouched, Bjorn savoured every breath of fresh air he could for he knew how much big cities stank.

As they reached the last third of their journey Bjorn found himself, to his great displeasure, in the company of the queen and the heir apparent, it was his own fault really, having ridden to close to the wheelhouse when the queen and prince sat on its outside for some fresh air. He could see the queen loved her children, but her overall haughty manner annoyed him. It was times like this that he had to fight to keep his dominating dragon soul at peace. It was when Joffery opened his mouth and brought forth to the world his lack of general intelligence on how things worked that Bjorn had enough.

"Arrogant little thing aren't you," said Bjorn interrupting the prince causing him to turn red with anger.

"How dare you speak to me like that? I am a prince, one day I will be the king." Joffery showed his maturity or lack thereof in a manner most childish. Bjorn remained impassive and unintimidated by the child's words.

"I do not see how what I have said is a falsehood, your grace. Compared to me you are little, and the way you speak tells me that you have never seen the cruelty of the world but your own, therefore you are arrogant."

"Do you really think it is wise to speak like that?" asked Cersei, who had remained silent up until now. The veiled threat was rather apparent.

"I feel that if the prince does not have someone set him straight he will run the kingdom to ruin when he is king, your grace." The Nord did not change his tone nor show any outward emotion, adopting his rather expressionless monotone he reserved when dealing with arrogant fools.

"Fine then," said Joffery, in a rare show of humility "If I am such a fool, correct me then." This came to a surprise to the queen, her son was more arrogant than any Lannister she knew, so for him to admit to a mistake was a rare thing indeed.

"I will do as you command little prince." Bjorn adjusted himself slightly in his saddle as to better face the prince. "First off, your whole perception of being king has been severely skewed. A king is only as strong as the people willing to follow him. Your father proved himself during his rebellion to be a strong warrior. As such people respect him. You have accomplished nothing of note, and any respect you have comes from who your parents are. This means you need to prove yourself worthy to the people, the smallfolk the ones you rule over they are your power. Inspire them, gain their loyalty through deeds and not command and you will have them dying in your name with pride.

Your second fault is your arrogance, you are not always right, you have little to no knowledge of how things work in reality. The world is not black and white. It is painted in shades of grey; your upbringing is mostly at fault here. To put it bluntly, the sun does not shine out of your arse. I suggest you go and study up about all the kings that have ruled Westeros, if you can identify where they made good and bad decisions then you will be one step closer to being less arrogant.

The last thing is can say is more of a warning, there are people in the world with power that do not care for titles and positions. The gods of my home gave me a duty when my soul was created, that duty is to protect the world from evil, to keep it at bay. It was a duty I was reminded about recently by the gods of this world.

The majority of the pain and grief in the world is caused by the evils of man. Should you not change your ways you will become a cruel king. Should that be the case, I will end you. There is nothing you do will be able to stop me from doing so."

The look in Bjorn's eyes at the end of his monologue sent shivers down the spines of both Cersei and Joffery. The look was predatory in a way. He was the apex predator; they were cattle, his prey. It caused their hearts to race as their fight or flight instinct kicked in. Bjorn left them in their silence, having his mount slow down so that the wheelhouse passed him.

"Mother, he wouldn't really kill me would he?" asked the prince, anxiety evident in his voice.

"Worry not, my lion; he said only if you became a cruel king would he kill you. Besides if that day comes there will be an entire garrison he will have to fight through to get to you." In her heart Cersei knew her words to be false. That look in Bjorn's eyes showed such determination she knew that even if she had an army ten thousand strong it would not be enough. Joffery would need to change, she realised. His current path would only lead to and early death.

The group stopped at the Crossroads Inn. They were now only a few days travel from King's Landing and it would be their final big stop before reaching the capital. Bjorn took this time to stretch out his legs and give his mount some time to graze. On his way back to the inn he noticed Joffery and Sansa talking, the two walking in the direction to the river. Curiosity took him and slipped from sight, casting a spell he rarely used. Being invisible was a strange sensation and there was a reason why it was not taught to young mages.

Not only did the caster become invisible to others, they also became near invisible to themselves. It was a spell that required great awareness of one's body so that one did not injure oneself needlessly. He followed the two staying just out of ear shot, to the point where his trained ears could not hear their hushed conversation.

Eventually they came upon Arya who was practicing sword forms with Mycah. Well Mycah was just told to block as Arya completed the sets she had been taught by Bjorn. He was impressed with her progress. Though she was using a stick instead of a real sword her form was near flawless when taking her age into account. Their practice was interrupted by the arrival of Sansa and the prince. Bjorn moved closer as to get a better view but the running water made it difficult for discernable words to be heard. He decided not to intervene, children needed to learn how to deal with things on their own. He would just be there to manage the fallout.

Things turned sour rather quickly when Joffrey cut the butcher boy's face, the reason for this was not clear, but judging from Joffrey's body language he was mocking the poor boy. This caused Arya to whack Joffrey with her stick hard enough that it cracked in two, Joffrey's reaction being to turn his blade onto Arya.

This would be a land mark moment in the prince's life. It would be something he would have nightmares about for years to come. Threatening Arya was a mistake, for two reasons, those being the presence of an overprotective older sister and a loyal direwolf familiar.

Nymeria moved first, the animal's reaction beating Sansa's by barely a few breaths. Her fangs sank into the prince's hand causing him to drop his sword. Before he could yell in pain a torrent of flames shot past his face singeing his eyebrows and hair. In an instant he was on his back, blood flowed freely from his wrists. He would have gotten up if Sansa had not pinned him down with her foot.

Her eyes ablaze with rage and dancing around her fingers were the tell-tale signs of a charged fire spell. She seemed to give the prince a warning, he nodded meekly. Arya took the princes sword and with and application of Alteration magic bent it so out of shape that it could never be used again. A very impressive feat as she was mostly self-taught since Bjorn himself knew only the basics of that particular magic school. Sansa gave Joffrey one more look of disgust before hitting him with another spell of her own creation, one that altered memories in particular. She was smart, the spell could not erase memories, just alter them slightly, and Sansa most likely caused the prince to forget about all the magic he had just witnessed.

Bjorn returned back the inn, knowing that the actions of his adopted siblings would have significant consequences that he would have to mitigate to a degree.

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JON

Jon slipped the ring given to him by Bjorn. His eyes widened slightly when he felt his magic flare. The ring was enchanted, not strongly however and Jon knew Bjorn enough that it was most likely an enchantment to prevent poisoning. The keep was rather quite with a chunk of the staff having departed with their lord South to King's Landing.

Jon had packed for his journey to The Wall. All his belongings except one were in a bag. He had gotten a satchel to carry his grimoire. His horse Shadowmane, sired by Bjorn's beast of a mount Shadowmere was saddle and ready to depart before first light. The horse was nearly as big as its father; his colouration was similar too, the only difference being a patch of white that ran like a jagged scar across the mounts chest.

He was sitting in Robb's room; it was late at night, their younger brothers already asleep. The relationship between the two eldest children of Eddard stark having changed from animosity to brotherhood over time, both brothers were studying to a certain degree. Jon reading out of his grimoire and Robb was tinkering with a potion. Bran had offered them the Wolf's Blood, though only Robb had accepted, Jon did not. When asked for a reason he did not supply one. They left it at that and Jon was grateful that they did not bother him about it.

The grimoire given to him was fascinating. It felt alive in a sense, it was drenched in magic, Bjorn's magic, and it was very comforting to hold. The script was all in Dragonish, with the odd mix of Deadric here and there. Jon was the only one currently in Winterfell able to read both fluently. Robb could read and write in Deadric, and Bran had a decent grasp of Dragonish but neither was as fluent as he was.

There was a hissing noise from the alchemy lab Robb was working at, followed by a loud bang and a bright flash of light. The book in Jon's hand snapped shut as he jumped up ears ringing from the noise. Robb had staggered backwards, his one hand covering his face.

"That was not supposed to happen." Said Robb.

"What were you trying to do?"

"I was trying to make a new healing salve. I added to much ammonia to the magnesium mix."

"Well it might not work as a healing salve but think how effective it would be to use at night in a battle." The two brothers shared a look, grins forming on their faces as they realised the implication of this discovery.

They would have continued experimenting had they not heard the yell of despair and the howl of a wolf coming from Bran's room. The two rushed out of the room towards Bran's room, the room having been cleaned before the young Stark moved back in. The sounds coming from the room were of a disconcerting nature. It sounded like flesh ripping. They opened the door slowly.

The sight that met them was gruesome, blood and entrails covered the room. Bran in his werewolf from was tearing a unrecognizable body apart. An ornate steal dagger on the floor, Bran stopped tearing at his victim when he heard sensed their presence, he rounded on his brothers eyes filled with bloodlust. He crouched down. A menacing growl escaped his blood drenched muzzle, his lips pulling back to reveal razor sharp teeth.

The werewolf Bran launched himself at his brother, intending to rend them apart as well. He collided however with a solid wall of magic. A Greater Ward sprung up between the brothers protecting the two human ones. The ward was intensive on Robb's magicka reserves but it kept Bran from going on a killing spree preventing him from leaving his room. Jon blasted his younger brother in the face with a stream of Frostbite. He channelled the spell using both hands increasing its potency.

The sudden arctic blast to the face seemed to have the same effect as a cold bucket of water thrown on a drunk. Bran, snapped out of his bloodlust his eyes gaining human intelligence again. He backed off and his form began to shudder and his bones shifted and popped as he returned to a human form. Robb dropped the ward and rushed forward to his younger brother who stood rooted to the ground, checking for injuries but found none.

"What happened?" asked Jon his voice full of concern, as Robb checked him over.

"A man tried to kill me. I woke up just before he could stab me. I grab his arm and tried to fight him off. I did not know when I changed. I just remember a bloody haze clouding my mind as I tore him apart. "Bran was oddly calm, but Robb attributed this to his younger brother's reaction to being in shock.

"It's alright little brother, the man is gone now. Come let us go get you cleaned up." Bran looked rather grizzly, blood ran from his mouth down his chest and his hands were also stained red all that remained of his cloths were his trousers protecting his modesty, but only barely. "Jon can you please take Bran and get him cleaned. I need to speak with my mother. If anyone asks what happened here, say an assassin tried to kill Bran but his direwolf ripped him apart."

Jon took Bran to his quarters which were directly beneath Bjorn's. Though it was a bit of a walk, he knew they would be safer there than anywhere else. Once he got to the bathing room he filled a copper cauldron above a stall with frost and snow, before melting it by activating the fire rune etched into the side of the cauldron. He heated the water until it was comfortable and warm.

"Come Bran, take those clothes off and get in the stall." His younger brother followed his brother's command and did as was requested of him. Jon pulled a small disk at the bottom of the cauldron which revealed a series of perforation through which the water he had heated up ran out of in a stream. Bran was still in shock, but not completely out of it and worked with Jon who helped was the blood stains out of his skin. Bran dried himself and dressed himself with the clothes provided for my Jon.

Jon took him to Bjorn's quarters, knowing that his adoptive father would not mind him using his bed. With practiced ease Jon removed a small bottle from one of the shelves. It was a mild sedative, one that Bjorn used often when dealing with the sick. It made you sleepy as well as lowering your fever. Jon was just after the sleeping effect and dosed Bran accordingly. He tucked his younger brother into the bed built for a man twice his brothers size.

A flame atronach was brought into the mortal plane of existence a few paces from the bed. Jon had come to the conclusion after a few attempts that the atronachs summoned, by a mage; from Oblivion were always the same one. He had two flame elementals he could summon but this one was his second elemental ever conjured. A second oblivion portal flared into life briefly before collapsing into the imposing form of a frost atronach. This was Jon's first ever elemental he had conjured. Together he worked in perfect tandem with his elemental familiars in combat. "Evain, Yokul guard him, anyone but me who comes to this room is to be knocked out and detained." Evain replied with snapping and popping sound of a hearth fire. Yokul replied affirmative with a low moaning rumble. "Bran these two will protect you while you sleep. I will come later; I need to see Robb and Catelyn." A drowsy moan was all he got from Bran in reply. Jon left the room quietly heading over to where he suspected Robb would be in the keep.

Jon found Robb in deep discussion with his mother and to his surprise Tyrion Lannister. The dagger wielded by the assassin lying on the table between them. Upon closer inspection it was a rather expensive piece. The dagger was of Valarian steel with a dragon bone handle. Someone with money had sent the assassin after Bran There was a tension in the air. His presence seemed to break that tension. Catelyn looked up at Jon when he cleared his throat at the door. Their strained relationship had improved overnight when he announced his adoption into House Kodaav, as a member and heir.

"Is Bran alright?" she would have gone to check on him herself but, there were more pressing matters currently at hand.

"Yes he is. I cleaned him up, dressed him in night clothes and gave him the sedative Bjorn gave us when we got sick, the one that smells of lavender, he is sleeping in Bjorn's bed. I also summoned Evain and Yokul to keep watch over him. They are under orders to incapacitate anyone who enters that room except for me." Catelyn gave a visible sigh of relief. The two atronachs were a fearsome pair. She had sometimes watched Jon's combat training with Bjorn. The three of them worked with perfect synchronicity as they fought against the spectral copies of Bjorn.

"Who are Evain and Yokul? Those names are most strange," asked Tyrion.

"They are the names of a Flame and Frost atronach, some call them elementals. They are my familiars that I can summon, I would appreciate it is you did not spread that around too much."

"Fascinating, you must tell me more when we travel to The Wall," said Tyrion.

"What have you determined about the dagger? Will it help us identify the assassin's contractor?" asked Jon as he sat down at the table.

"The dagger originally belonged to Lord Baelish, who lost it in a bet to Robert. How the assassin got his hands on it is beyond me, but a servant could have easily stolen it from the king. He is drunk most of the time. It would not have been a difficult task. I can tell you now it is no one of my family, using a priceless weapon to kill someone is too elaborate a scheme and a waste. I think this was an attempt by someone in power to frame the Lannisters, our relationship with House Stark has never been on the best of terms, there quite a few houses that would benefit from a war between North and the West." Replied Tyrion, Jon nodded, having studied at Bjorn's request the histories between the major houses. It would make sense, a war between house Stark and Lannister would benefit many of the other noble houses in their never ending quest for power.

"So all we can establish at this point is that, Bran saw something he shouldn't have. This caused him to be pushed from a height to his death. He survived but someone still wants him dead. The second attempt on his life was done to frame the Lannisters, so that the tension between the two houses can be increased and hopefully lead to a war" Summarized Jon

"That is all we can say for now," said Catelyn her voice was tired but filled with frustration.

"When I leave tomorrow morn, with Uncle Benjen and Tyrion send a letter to King's Landing, have Robb help you code it. Lord Stark should be informed of the second attempt on his son's life." Jon showed a remarkable level of maturity when he spoke. He was well chosen as the Heir for House Kodaav.

"Lady Stark, I think it would be a good idea to give this dagger to Jon here as a congratulatory gift, for being named Heir. It is not every day that a bastard becomes a legitimized heir." Tyrion's words were not spoken in malice, but honesty and sincerity.

"I think that idea to be excellent, Tyrion. The weapon is of no use to us, it will not tell us anymore of who sent the assassin after Bran. Jon, please take the dagger. I give it to you; I hope that in future I will be more cordial towards you." Their discussion ended soon after Jon too the dagger.

The next day before the crack of dawn saw three men and a direwolf head out of Winterfell towards the wall. Robb stared at his brothers retreating figure in the predawn glow. The atronachs guarding Bran had been dismissed when Robb offered to stand guard so that Jon could get some sleep.

The group of three moved North at a brisk pace. If they managed to maintain it they would be at the wall within a fortnight. On the way there they were joined by the newest recruits to the Night's Watch.

"Rapist and murders, what a lovely bunch protecting us form the wildings," commented Tyrion. He was riding beside Jon at the front of the group.

"There are more than just wildings beyond The Wall. An ancient evil is waking; Bjorn is sending me to help the Night's Watch prepare for the coming storm." Jon spoke with grim insight. He knew better than most below The Wall of the dangers beyond it.

"Well that sounds rather morbid, what evils are waking?" asked Tyrion

"The Others, they are called the White Walkers by the wildlings. Mortal weapons can't harm them and they can raise the dead as their servants."

"That certainly is grim, and how will you a mere apprentice aid the men of the Night's Watch?"

"I have a unique skillset, not yet as diverse as the one possessed by Bjorn, but enough to be of service to the Watch until Bjorn is able to join us."

They rode on stopping only when the sun was starting to dip below the Horizon. "Tyrion, why do you read so much?" asked Jon

"I am a dwarf. Had I been born to peasants I would have been left out in the woods to die, alas I was born a Lannister of Casterly Rock and certain things are expected of me. I read because my mind is my only weapon, and a mind needs books like a sword need a whetstone."

The wineskin shared between the two was finished rather quickly. Jon stared into the fire contemplating the events of the past few days as well as those yet to occur and come.

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EDDARD

The Lord of Winterfell looked at his daughter Arya in annoyance. He knew she was a proud person, but she needed to learn that there were consequences to her actions. Sansa was there to, though he did not know what she had done in all of this but the prince whose hair had been singed must have done something to gain her ire. Though judging by the way they interrogated Arya, Sansa's actions were not mentioned by either party.

"Why was I not informed that Arya had been found? What are you interrogating her about?" He spoke with the authority he held as Warden of the North.

"Who gives you the right to speak to the king in such a tone?" replied Cersei. Joffrey stood by his mother's side smug expression on his face.

"Quite! Woman, their stories are conflicting, at this point I do not know which one to believe." Robert also had a look of annoyance on his face. He found the whole thing trivial, but Cersei would not stop bothering him until he did something.

A loud shout was heard from outside the beginning not clear the last word was like a thunderclap, "…RAH!" Suddenly the doors to the inn were blasted apart by a concussive force that made gale force wind seem as insignificant a breath by comparison. Bjorn walked in, his eyes filled with fury. Ned had known the Nord for ten years, and in all that time he had never seen him this angry. In one arm he carried the butcher's son, Mycah who was unconscious and in the other he dragged a rather large man, also unconscious. His appearance silenced everyone. He walked in slowly, people gasped when they saw that the unconscious man was Sandor Clegane, better known as The Hound, the sworn sword of the prince.

"Can someone tell me, why a grown man, was running down a child with the intent to kill him!" He voice resonated around the room, while at the same time he flung the body of The Hound away from him causing him to bounce and roll for several yards. For the first time Ned saw Bjorn in his full capacity. This was a man who had slain dragons. This was a man who levelled an entire island. This was a man who bowed to no king. Mycah's father moved quickly through the crowd and took the unconscious boy from Bjorn, he retreated quickly his son now in his arms muttering thanks over and over as he walked.

Cersei spoke first, though her voice did not show it she feared Bjorn. "The boy attacked Joffrey, along with Arya, and her beast."

"That is not what happened," interrupted Arya. Ned wanted to slap his daughter for her insolence. One does not interrupt the queen The Seven Kingdoms.

"Hush, Arya," Bjorn's sharp words caused her to stop talking immediately. "It seems as if my advice did not reach the ears of the prince. Judging by the way Joffrey is cowering. I would say he was not man enough to face the consequences of his actions and ran to his mother telling lies to get his way." The Nord's words had a bite to them. It was cold and sharp.

"Where you there to witness the events that transpired?" asked the king. Robert was shaken by Bjorn's rage. It would have put any Baratheon's to shame, considering the House's motto was 'Ours is the Fury', this was quite significant.

"I was your grace. I followed Joffrey and Sansa out of sight and sound. They seemed to just talk at first walking down to the river, and you know a beautiful lady such as Sansa should not be left around with hot blooded male. They seemed to exchange naught but small talk as they continued to follow the river, of what I do not know as I did not want to infringe onto their privacy more than I already had.

When they came across Arya practicing her sword forms, hostilities instigated by the prince caused Arya to react in defence of the butcher's son after your son slashed him across his face. This resulted on Joffrey turning his sword on Arya. Nymeria acted in defence of her mistress, she perceived Joffrey's sword arm as a threat and bit the offending appendage."

"You are loyal to House Stark, your testimony can not be trusted," said the queen. This caused Bjorn to laugh. It was not his characteristic warm booming laugh well known to the halls of Winterfell. It was a cold mirthless laugh. Chills ran down everyone's spine, Sansa and Arya included. This was a side of Bjorn they had never seen.

"Arya, has been personally trained by me for the last four years. She can best men thrice her age and weight with a blade. If she had attacked first, prince Joffrey would be missing a hand, or an arm." His gaze was cold and unflinching when he spoke to the queen.

"I do not care, I want there to be some punishment! Joffrey will bear those scares for the rest of his life." The king cut his wife off before she could continue. Having had enough of the whole affair, though he would never admit it, Bjorn started scaring him when fire began to burn brighter along with all the candles in tempo with how his rage waxed and waned, though it never quite subsided and the blazing fury in his eyes kept on burning.

"Enough, children fight, if Joffrey was a proper son he would not have lost to a girl. Ned, I will leave the discipline of Arya to you, I will also see to Joffrey's punishment personally." Ned was slightly relieved at the chosen resolution.

"What of the direwolf. A beast like that should not be allowed to live."

"The familiars of the Stark children shall not be harmed. Loyal animals like them are hard to come by. I will kill all those involved in actions which cause any harm to befall them."