Well, fuck me with a fucking dildo up the fucking arsehole.

From the books, I had already come to know that the gods of Planetos, probably some of them, not all of them, were real, but that didn't mean I was ready for what I was hit with when I walked into Winterfell's godswood.

Truth be told, the moment I had entered Winterfell, I had noticed a slight change in the air, didn't know what, but I could feel it. It was like some sort of warm blanket or something. It was very difficult to describe since I didn't know how to describe it.

To me, it felt I had just walked out of a cold room and into a mildly warm one. Or as if I had just walked out of the rain and quickly wrapped a blanket around me for warmth.

I knew that hot water was piped through the walls of Winterfell to keep the castle warm, but I doubted it had this particular effect that I was feeling. It was very strange and...discourteous to me. I don't know why, but all sorts of alarms in my head were going off as to how 'off' things felt. Like this wasn't supposed to be happening.

I was still outside and in the cold so there was no reasonable explanation as to why I should feel warm. None at all.

But I still felt the feeling, even as the cold bit at my skin with a tiny thousand blades of wind.

You know those alarms? Now they were fucking klaxons the deeper I walked into the godswood, following the well trodden path beneath my well booted feet.

The gods were real. Well, the old gods as far as I could tell.

I wondered if the alarms and klaxons had anything to do with the fact that from where I come from, magic wasn't actually a thing? Well, the magic that existed here was certainly far different to the magic that I had seen back home in shows and on streets.

To me and my mind and my senses, this feeling probably went against everything I knew the world was supposed to work. Magic essentially told the Laws of Physics to go fuck themselves.

And like every other guy, even when the laws were a pain the ass, I still did love my Laws of Physics because at the very least, they tried to make sense of the universe we inhabited.

And speaking of gods, primarily the old gods, I don't really think the old gods counted as gods. Went they something of a hive mind? I'm pretty sure the old gods were more along the lines of a hive mind in how they came to be about. Read it in one of the books.

Had to be a thing. Pretty sure of that.

I found myself somewhat feeling uncomfortable the deeper I walked into the holy place. If I didn't know anybody, it felt as if I was being watched and considering that apparently, the old gods resided in every tree, rock, whatever, and the fact that I knew they were very real and that for some sort of reason, I could feel their sheer presence, they were more than likely watching me.

I wondered what exactly the numerous pantheon of the old gods felt about me? Hell, I would be surprised if Brynden wasn't aware of me. If he was half as good as he was supposed to be, I'm pretty sure he would have felt my presence, either the day I supplanted Aerys' will for my own, or the moment I stepped foot in the north.

I wonder if I could ask him. After all, the weirwoods were something of a network weren't they? And he was practically one anyway.

Following the seemingly winding path and up some stone stairs, I found myself coming into a large clearing that wasn't filled with sentinels, weirwoods, iron trees. Instead, around the area was one giant lake, still as still could be and on the other side was a large white weirwood tree with red leaves and a face drawn into it's trunk.

A Heart Tree.

By now, I felt I should drop to my knees as the presence had become all but suffocating. It felt strange. I could breath but at the same time, I felt like I shouldn't breath, for all I knew, the very air was holy with old gods hanging around the oxygen particles. Who knew what havoc they could play in my lungs?

And like that, the presence lifted ever so much that it actually felt like I wouldn't suffer from a massive panic attack.

Huh, so the old gods seemed to have come to some sort of consensus about me. They had decided that I was alright or that they liked me or...something.

Alright.

As long as they didn't plan on me suddenly dropping to my knees and fervently praying to them, me and them were good.

I was born and raised Catholic and I was going to continue to keep being Catholic despite all the various bullshit and gods around me. Seven save me.

…I meant Lord save me.

That was the Aerys me speaking. Not the some-what not practicing agnostic Catholic me. What I'm trying to say is, my parents put the fear of God into me at an early age, but when I got older, and religion came to be less important to me, that fear still means I can't outright go being an Atheist.

So I just decided to go the middle ground for being Agnostic. For all I knew, God could very well be real, or he could not be. Who knew? I certainly didn't.

And anyway, I tended to take the view that religion was more of a guiding philosophy on how to live a good life without being a complete and utter jackass. Of course with modern morality instead of some of the older ones the Good Book espoused.

Right, back to the godswood. The old gods had decided I was cool and could hang around their digs.

I could deal with that. And anyway, the person I had come to look for happened to have been quietly praying in front of one.

I decided to leave her to it for a while and made my way round the lake that separated me and her. I didn't go to her directly not wanting to interrupt her prayer session so I decided to take a seat on a large boulder that seemed to have been made to be sat upon.

I wondered if this was the boulder that Lords of Winterfell sat upon when they cleaned Ice? Hm, something to ponder about.

Whilst I was waiting, I took out my little notebook from my inside pocket that I had sewn in. Yes, I sew. And knit. It's a very therapeutic practice.

Supposed not something the very manly culture of Westeros would look kindly upon. Should probably keep that to myself. Westeros had very set ideas of what a man can and can't do. Brill.

I began to flip through the pages. I had filled quite a number of them with my ideas that I was going to introduce. Crop rotation, canning, the printing press, paper, pens (both ball-point and fountain), double bookkeeping entry, modern economical theory (I knew some theories from elective Economic and Business Studies classes I took whilst I was in college), germ theory, improvements in hygiene and most importantly, public sanitation and a bunch of other things.

I was surprised that King's Landing didn't have any large outbreaks of disease considering people just threw their shit and crap out of their windows and onto city streets. It wasn't so bad in some of the more affluent areas, but in others, which was essentially most of the city? Christ, it was horrible and disgusting.

No wonder everybody thought the city stank.

I was rather confused as to why nobody thought of maintaining or improving the sewer system that Jaehaerys the First had built and implemented. It couldn't have been that hard to have some people maintenance the sewers and build some more when the city grew, could it?

I also doubted anybody washed.

With that thought, I immediately decided to put bath-houses to the list of ideas that I was going to introduce. Preferably set up like a swimming pool. With showers being taken before entering the bathes themselves.

I nodded to myself as I wrote down the specifics, even sketching of some rudimentary showers. It wasn't all that difficult to conjure up a gravity fed shower and plumbing certainly existed in Westeros, so I was pretty sure I wouldn't have to just keep to a gravity fed shower. A proper shower wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility.

Sketching out the designs and writing some notes and appendices, I found my thanking my older sister for making help with her own designs and sketches when it came to her fashion business. If not, I would have ended up being a very horrible drawer.

I stopped sketching with the graphite pencil that I had kept with me and thought of my sister. I thought of her and my other sister and my older brother. All of my older siblings that had looked after me countless nights when our parents had taken a break from being parents and gone off to some restaurant or second, third honeymoon or something like that.

I actually thought of my parents as well. I had been something of a surprise. My mum had been in her early forties by the time I had been born and she had given up on having any more children.

To say I was spoiled was an understatement. I always thought they spoiled me because they didn't expect me to be as good as my older siblings, smart, successful, good looking and all that. I started brooding, which was bad because I didn't brood.

Brood went against my nature.

It was then that I noticed the shadow that hanged over me. I glanced up and noticed Branda Stark in all her finery looking down at my notebook with a delicate eyebrow delicately raised up her brow, "I don't think I've ever seen writing like that." She said after a moment. She snatched the book out of my hands before I had time to react and started flipping through the pages, taking a moment to study the words and the drawings, "What language is this? Good drawings though." She added as an afterthought.

I blinked and made a go for my notebook, "Hey!"

She spun away from me, still perusing through my notebook that as well have been my diary. I felt all kinds of offended. Did she not know who I am?

"Stop your whining. I'm just reading." She frowned as she continued to flip through the pages at such a pace that I thought she would rip them, "Well trying to read anyway." She snapped the book shut and threw it in my direction.

I tried to catch it but I hadn't expected it be thrown at me, so I had ended up juggling it for a moment before finally taking it into my grasp. I stopped a moment and glared at her, "That was rude. You don't just take people's things like that."

The expression on her face told me that she didn't give the slightest fuck in the world, "I was curious. And anyway, I can't read it. What tongue is that? Valyrian? I confess, I never cared for that particular tongue."

"No. Not Valyrian. English." Why would I write my private thoughts and ideas in a language that some people already knew how to speak or could learn how to speak? Best use a language that nobody had ever heard of before and didn't have the slightest clue as to how to go along into translating into their own.

English was about a different language to the Common Tongue and Andal writing system as it was to Arabic or Japanese or Chinese. It was just too weird and strange to make out unless you knew what you were looking for.

...I realised I was going to have to at least tear out the pages that held the sketches and put them somewhere more secure. Those sketches were my babies. Didn't want the plans to be stolen and used by someone else.

Branda stared blankly at me, "Never heard of it. Some eastern Essosi tongue? Perhaps my father has heard of it."

I could go with that route when it came to the language, but Branda had pointed out a flaw in that plan. Someone who had travelled extensively in Essos would note that they had never heard of it, "No."

"No?" She blinked as she repeated my answer, "So where from?"

"From up here." I said as I tapped my head.

She blinked, "...You created a language?" I grinned for my answer and she shook her head, "I've heard a lot about you Targaryens, but really, who invents their own language? Those must be some private thoughts that you most certainly want to keep quiet."

Something about what she said caught me off, "How do you know I'm a Targaryen?" I asked, confused.

"Do you know anyone else around here with silver hair?"

"The Velaryons."

She laughed at that, "I suppose that's true." She stopped for a moment before taking the sides of her skirts and curtsying, "Branda Stark at your service, my prince. Apologies for my earlier behaviour."

I blinked at the sudden change in tone and attitude. What the hell had happened to the rather lively young woman that had taken my notebook out of my hands and had spun away from my reach? "I think we are well past introductions, my lady. Prince Aerys Targaryen at your service." I stopped for a moment, "But I shall have your refer to me as Rhys."

She stood up straight and raised an eyebrow, "Is that what they call you in the capital? Rhys," She tasted the word out in her mouth and smiled some, "I think I rather like it, Rhys."

I blinked as I took in her smile. When she smiled she was actually pretty. Not that she wasn't already pretty. She was actually quite gorgeous and I didn't see the hint of make-up on her face. I supposed by most southron accounts, she would have a wild beauty about her. Wild being that she was a natural beauty, then she certainly was.

In other words, I would have been more than happy to screw her silly, barring that, until she couldn't walk. And if everything worked out in my favour, that was going to be a thing I would be doing regularly, with her permission of course.

I found myself smiling. Put some make-up on her, and she would definitely turn heads.

"So might I enquire as to why a prince of the blood has come so far north?" She asked as she looked at me inquisitively, "I will admit, when the raven from the capital had come, I had never seen so much excitement in the castle. And I've lived here for my whole life."

I rubbed at my chin, "People are excited about me? Awesome."

"Not the good kind of excited, my prince." She chided me with a shake of the head, "My lady mother and aunts weren't at all happy. Winterfell is hardly in the state to hold a grand feast fit for a royal."

"I didn't come here for a feast."

"Then why are you here?"

I made my way up to her, took a hand of hers into mine and dropped onto a knee. She raised an eyebrow in confusion at my actions and then I opened my mouth, "Branda Stark, would you be willing to make me the happiest man on the earth and making me your lawfully wedded husband?"

She gave me a look, "I don't even know you."

"And would you have known your future husband?" From my understanding, marriages were arranged and at best, most parties only met once or twice before their wedding. Sure, I was missing out on the meeting her once or twice part of the equation and going straight for the answer, but I didn't have the luxury of time.

"Well, no. I suppose not." She answered me with a resigned sigh, one of her hands still in the grasp of my own. She hadn't pulled it away. I took that as a good sign, "Unless it was a northern lordling, then perhaps I would have an inkling of knowing the man."

"Exactly. I just expedited the process, that is all."

"Why me? I'm sure there are a lot more pretty southron flowers that would be vie to be wedded to a prince as handsome as you?"

I smiled some, "Oh? You think me handsome? I'm fluttered." Let's get one thing right. At nineteen years of age, I've only had two girlfriends that I could consider having been a long-term relationship. Long term as it lasted for more than a month at worst and at best, reached the two month threshold.

In other words, I have no idea how to talk to women. Seriously, most of my mates were boys and the few females friends that I had were girls that had firmly placed me in that dreaded place of all places, the Friendzone.

To put this into persepective, back home, on earth, do you know how long my dry spell had been? Two years.

I kid you not.

This whole thing? This was letting Aerys' instincts take control, mind you though, I had to censor some of the bullshit I was spouting and doing. By now, Aerys would have probably taken the lady and we would be missing a head, courtesy of one irate father at us having dishonoured his daughter.

Prince or not, this shit was taken seriously.

I think she flushed some or perhaps that was the wind. She was pale, but considering that sunlight didn't seem to be much of a thing in the north, I figured that most northerners were pale.

So in other words, a sudden rush of colour to her cheeks was noticeable. Her freckles made it even more the cuter. Or like the other excuse, it was merely the cold of the wind that had turned her face red.

A breeze had cut through the godswood at that opportune time.

"I would be a fool to think other wise." She looked away, "I shall admit, you are the prettiest man I have ever seen. So what they say about you dragonlords is true then, you are inhumanely beautiful."

"Still human though, nothing divine or the likes." The whole thing about us being above the laws of gods and men? I was positive that was one of the things that had resulted in the Targaryens having a massive entitlement and superiority complex.

Those two factors alone probably didn't help if said Targaryen ended up being less than stellar in the mind department.

She eventually removed her small hand from the grasp of mine and linked her hands behind her back. She walked around me and I tried to follow her with my eyes, "Yet you seem to think of the mind that one wife will not be enough for you. You are betrothed, are you not?"

I slowly nodded my head, "To my sister. Like my Grandfather, I share of the same mind that the Targaryen practicing of marrying sister to brother has done nothing but damage us. We would have achieved far more if we had wed with the other Houses of the Seven Kingdoms."

"Is it not the place of the child to follow the commands of their father?"

I grinned at her, "I'm something of a rebel." That and the fact that my own parents and uncles had rebelled against the wishes of their own father. Why should I be held to an ideal that they were not willing to hold themselves to?

"If I am to take your hand all of a sudden, I would hope that rebelliousness doesn't result in you seeking the beds of other women."

"I would not dream of it. Your father terrifies me."

She giggled, "Many fear the Wandering Wolf. Some say he's the best swordsman or warrior, in the north." She stopped in front of me, "You are right to fear him. My lord father cares much for the well-being of his lovely daughters. He would not have them dishonoured." She leaned in close, and I could feel the warmth of her breath upon my skin and notice that her eyes were not the grey that I thought they were. They seemed a more cool, pale blue than anything else. Like that of ice, "He. Would. Break. You. In. Half."

Surprisingly, I had come to that very same conclusion on my first meeting with him, "Yes. Yes he most would certainly." The Kingsguard that Ser Duncan commanded was far better than the one from the time of the books, but I doubted none of them had the combat experience Rodrik Stark had. The man had served with the Second Sons in Essos after all.

Got himself into all sorts of fights against someone I suspect, with all the wars that happened across the sea.

That and the fact I doubt no one wanted to stand in the way of an enraged father.

"So how about it, marry me?"

"You told my father of this?" She asked and I nodded, "His reply?"

"'Yeah. Alright, why not?'"

Branda sighed as she rubbed at her temple before looking back down at me, "My father has already given his permission. Congratulations, Rhys, you have yourself a Stark wife." She crossed her arms underneath her breasts, "But don't expect me to be some sort of gentle southron flower without a will of her own. Wolves are not so easily controlled."

I couldn't stop myself from the comment that came next, "Torrhen knelt easily enough."

XxX

Rodrik looked at me with an amused glint to his eyes before his eyes drifted down to the young woman walking beside me, "I see you were able to find my daughter." Then his eyes drifted over to the gentle caress my wife-to-be had given to my cheek, "And it seems as if you are getting alone famously. Be careful with her though, this little she-wolf has a bite to her."

"Father!" Branda admonished.

I rubbed at my cheek, wincing at the jolt of pain, "Truth be told, it's more a sting and less a bite. You sure she's a wolf? Perhaps a bee would have been more appropriate." I felt her glare on me and let it slide of me as best as I could.

I figured I was going to pay for that later.

Rodrik laughed some before turning around and leading us into the solar of the Lord of Winterfell, "Nephew, our royal guest and his wife have finally arrived."

From beyond the form of the Wandering Wolf, someone grumbled, "Uncle, I would prefer it if you called me by my name instead of nephew. It's bad enough that I am the older of the two of us."

Rodrik laughed and allowing me the first look at Lord Edwyle Stark, Warden of the North. He was a thin but hard looking man with the Stark features of a long face and a solemn, guarded looking face. He was dressed rather lightly, good choice considering his solar was warm compared to the outsides.

I noticed a youth slightly older than me standing at the side behind Lord Edwyle. I tried to put a name to a face but I had yet to meet all of the Starks apart from Branda, Rodrik and now, Lord Edwyle.

To my surprise, Lord Edwyle was older than his uncle, if you can believe that. Rodrik was only in his early thirties and Lord Edwyle was already nearly touching fifty. His hair more than showed for it.

A near twenty years age difference, that had been a surprise.

I inclined my head in greeting, "Lord Stark, a pleasure."

The Stark lord raised from his seat and bowed as well, so did the young man standing beside him, "The pleasure is all mine, my prince. I do believe the last time that Winterfell hosted royalty was during the time of your venerable ancestor Jaehaerys, the First of His Name."

I nodded, "A shame really. Winterfell is such a lovely castle and one of the oldest in all of the Seven Kingdoms. A castle worthy of it's reputation."

Rodrik snorted from the side, "Look at all that flowery language coming out of your mouth. Perhaps I was wrong to give you my daughter's hand?"

"You were not wrong, Lord Rodrik." I said, turning my head to face the older man, "It never hurts to be courteous."

"Listen to the young prince, uncle. You might learn a few things." Lord Edwyle said with a chuckle. He motioned us towards spare seats and we kindly took them. When he took his own seat, Lord Edwyle's expression turned from jovial to serious in a matter of moments, "I have to say my prince, your presence here has caused more excitement in the north than I have seen in my long years."

"Please, call me Rhys." I told the man.

Branda nodded from beside me, "He insists on that."

Edwyle's eyes narrowed somewhat in confusion but he slowly nodded before he continued speaking, "We received a raven from King's Landing telling us of your coming, but not to the reason as to why you are coming. So I think you can understand if I told you that I'm more than a little skeptical of my uncle's words in his saying that you have come this far to simply ask for my dear cousin's hand."

"I precisely came here for that." I told him plainly.

Lord Edwyle was quiet for a moment before speaking, "You are already betrothed."

"To my sister and not of my will." I shook my head, "I would have accepted any lady my father thought necessary for me to wed. Or my Grandfather even. He has great plans, but unfortunately, it seemed his own wilfulness was inherited by his own children."

"And grandchildren by the looks of it." Lord Edwyle noted with a single bob of the head.

I smiled as I agreed with him, "Yes, that is quite true, I suppose." I continued with my original point, "I would have wed any lady of the realm or even outside the realm. Anyone, except for my sister. She is my sister. That is all how I see her and nothing else. I am not of the same traditional mind as my Father and Mother. I'm more progressive like my Grandfather and sharing my bed with my sister is something I would do anything to avoid."

Should I go for the abdication route? Nah, just let it lie for now.

Still though, I wasn't done and I leaned forward slightly, "And I do believe this completes the pact."

"The pact?" Lord Edwyle asked, an eyebrow raised in confusion.

"The Pact of Ice and Fire, drawn up during the Dance of Dragons by Queen Rhaenyra and Lord Cregan Stark. A Targaryen shall wed a Stark of Winterfell."

"A Targaryen princess shall wed a Stark of Winterfell you mean." The youth that had continued standing beside Lord Edwyle said, speaking up for the first time.

My eyes drifted towards him, "I'm sorry, I have not yet asked for you name..." I trailed off, leaving the implication easy enough to hear.

"Rickard Stark." The youth answered with an easy nod of the head, "Heir to Winterfell and good-brother of Branda who sits beside you."

Branda waved at him cheekily enough, "Hi Ricky. How is my dear sister? Got her with child yet? I would be surprised if you hadn't considering the time you two wake-up."

A fury of red came flushing onto the face of the young heir. Beside me, Rodrik guffawed at the reaction of the young Stark. Lord Edwyle sighed as he shook his head, "The southrons think badly enough of us already, must you embarrass us so in the presence of the prince?" He chided Branda with a look.

She elbowed my side, "He doesn't mind, does he? After all, he's the one who wants to take a northern savage to wife."

I looked at her, "I wouldn't call you or any of yours savages, my lady. If I am to rule the Seven Kingdoms, it wouldn't serve for me to look down on the part of my kingdom that's as big as the rest of it now, can I?"

Lord Edwyle spoke with a wry smile on his face, "No. I suppose not." He leaned in his chair, "Truth be told, I would rather not gain the ire of your father by allowing this marriage. Rodrik might be Branda's lord father, but I am still the Head of House Stark, but as you pointed out, you are honouring a pact...that and you are the future ruler of Seven Kingdoms."

"I never took you for the ambitious sort, Ed." Rodrik let out in slight surprise as he leaned back into the leather of his chair.

"Ambition is part and parcel of a lord, uncle. You know that. My concerns are of the north and it wouldn't hurt to have friends in the south. And what better friends than the royal family?" He shook his head, "In truth, I had been to arrange a wedding for Branda with your blessing with a southern House. Now, it seems there is no need for me to look for friends south. A friend has decided to make his own way north." He finished with a smile in my direction.

I returned the smile with one of my own. Ahh, politics. Lovely thing it was, "So I suppose we shall have the wedding soon enough then?" I asked, "I would like to get married as soon as possible. Give less chance for my Father to do something I would dislike immensely. Like force me to wed my sister before the agreed time."

"We have a godswood and we don't need a septon to carry out our services. Why not just go there and do it now? We already planned a feast tonight for the prince's arrival, might as well turn it into an impromptu wedding feast." Rodrik suggested.

I snapped my fingers and pointed at him, "That is a great plan." My smile grew wider, "And I happen to have the heirs to two of the kingdoms and a knight of the Kingsguard to serve as additional witnesses if my Father starts asking questions." I stood up, nearly throwing my chair to the floor and grabbed at Branda's hand and held it. I pointed in the direction of the godswoods, "Let's have at it!" I finished as I pretty much led us out of the solar.

Branda protested against me grabbing her so suddenly, but I wasn't particularly listening. Today had been a good day.