Morndas, the 4th of First Seed

King's Landing

Jail Cell

Laniel could not sleep. The very idea that he had failed an assassination bothered him to no end. The Dark Brotherhood was not known for its failure. They rarely ever did fail. The only times failure came to mind was from stories Nakos had shared with Laniel. Before Nakos had joined the Dark Brotherhood, some unfortunate souls decided it was a good idea to hire the Dark Brotherhood and ask for his death. Laniel chuckled to himself. Who would think it was a good idea to try and kill the Dragonborn of all people? His smile quickly faded as he thought back to the previous night. He mentally kicked himself for not being patient and waiting until he was alone with Cersei before trying to kill her. He had never let emotions affect his work before, ever. The whole point of being an assassin was to distance yourself from your target. But these were the people who had made Arya's life a living hell, albeit indirectly. The Lannisters killed her father, tortured her sister, almost killed her brother and mother. Knowing what it was like to have his family torn from him, Laniel could only assume that that was the reason for his misstep. At least that cunt of a king is dead, Laniel thought to himself.

He looked around the jail cell. There were a few small windows and Laniel could feel the morning light on his bare chest. He had been stripped down to his loin cloth. Hay was strewn all across the stone floor. Laniel himself was chained to a stone wall, only giving him room to stand, sit, or lie down. He could not not raise his arms very far, nor could he walk far from the wall. The most he managed was two steps before the chain around his waist stopped him. They were taking no chances. A few voices came from the other side of the door. They were muffled, but Laniel recognized one of them as Margaery Tyrell, the queen. "I said, let me see the prisoner."

"Cersei has ordered us… " a guard started to say, but Margaery interrupted him.

"Cersei is not your queen," Margaery said, "I am your queen. And you will do as I say and open the door."

"But the prisoner…" the guard started to argue again, but stopped mid-sentence. Laniel could only imagine the death stare he had just received and smiled to himself. He heard the locks on the jail cell open and soon the door itself opened to reveal Margaery, flanked by two Kingsguards.

"Wait outside," she ordered and closed the door behind her before either the prison guards or the Kingsguard could argue. Laniel stood to his feet, but said nothing. Neither did Margaery for a moment. They simply stared at each other. The only sound in the cell was the call of the birds from outside. Finally Margaery smiled, "I feel I must thank you."

Laniel raised an eyebrow. That was the last thing he had expected to hear from her, "For what, m'lady?"

She brought her arms in a sweeping gesture, "You gave me the Kingdom."

"True," Laniel agreed, "but I didn't do it for you." It wasn't his intention either.

Margaery's interest was piqued, "Then who?"

"For a friend that was related to his former wife." Laniel said cryptically, but Margaery saw through it.

"The Starks," she said with a sly smile on her face, "I might have figured as much."

Laniel was genuinely surprised. "You are very astute, my lady."

"I am a Lady of the Reach. I have had to be clever, not just for my own safety, but for those of my family as well." She paused and took a step closer before folding her hands over her stomach. "Even so, what you did does change everything, even if you killed him for the Starks."

"How so? You get to rule unless Cersei tries to dispose of you."

"Exactly."

"Oh." Laniel blinked when he put the pieces together. A brief pain from his leg reminded him of his rather foolish attempt to kill the Queen Regent. "As you can see, I'm not exactly in the best position to help you, your Grace." He quipped holding up his arms to show the chains on his wrists, waist, and legs.

"No, but you know people who can. And if you were to aid me, protect me, I could see about having you….misplaced." She left a great deal unsaid, but Laniel was sure that if she were given enough time, she'd even try and find a way to end the war.

"A tempting offer, to be sure." The thought of summoning Lucian didn't sit well with Laniel, but the ghost was the only means he had of contacting his fellows in the Dark Brotherhood, as only the Listener could communicate with the Night Mother. If anyone could devise a means to either eliminate Cersei, or protect the new Queen, it'd be them. "I will consider it. But first," Laniel sat back on the ground, "I would like to know who's going to be the new king."

"Tommen Lannister. Joffrey's younger brother," Margaery answered as she took a stool and sat in front of him, a few steps out of his reach. "Don't worry, he's much better than his brother."

"No doubt he still wants my head for killing his brother," Laniel huffed.

"You'd be surprised," Margaery replied, "Joffrey was not well-liked, as you can imagine, not even by his siblings. You did a few people a favor."

"But Cersei has Tommen's ear," Laniel noted, "She can still convince him to have me executed. Not to mention that she may see this as an act of war from Skyrim."

"How so?"

"A Skyrim assassin coming across the Sunset Sea to kill the King of Westeros?" Laniel explained. That would not bode well, especially if Cersei convinced Tommen to declare war on Skyrim for Laniel's actions.

Margaery shook her head, "I doubt Cersei would risk more men to fight another war across the sea. But she may see it as a tactical move from the Starks. They have allied themselves with Skyrim, after all." Laniel fell silent, and Margery noticed, "You didn't know that, did you?" she asked with a chuckle, "Robb Stark received about six thousand new soldiers from Skyrim ten days ago."

"And ten days later, an assassin from Skyrim kills the king," Laniel said spitefully. "Just my luck."

"If anything, the Lannisters will just become more aggressive in their attacks."

Laniel chuckled, "They can try. But the Imperial Legion are some of the best soldiers in the world." If not the best, up until the Dominion came around. Even then, they held their own against the Thalmor, right up until the Emperor all but surrendered.

"So I've heard," Margaery said with a smile.

Riverrun

Ever since the arrival of the Imperial Legion, Robb Stark had driven the Lannisters back in each battle. Even with Roose Bolton joining the Lannisters, the Imperial Legion's fighting ability far outmatched the forces of Boltons and the Lannisters combined. But even with the tides turned, Robb could not stop thinking about his family. His half-brother was at the Wall, Arya was still missing, Sansa was still in Skyrim, and his mother was still with the foreign Queen of that land. He hadn't seen any of them in so long, and he just hoped they were all alright. Grey Wind seemed to feel his master's pain and whined beside him.

Robb stood over the war map in the War Council room with General Tullius, Rikke, and a few other Imperial Legionnaires. A few Bosmer scouts came into the room, holding letters in their hand. "What is it?"

The scouts bowed quickly, "We've heard word from the Lannister camp. The king, Joffrey Baratheon is dead. Tywin Lannister has left to attend his grandson's funeral."

"What?" Robb said, surprised at the news, and more than a little shocked that someone had pulled it off. "How did this happen?"

"The word is that he was poisoned by an assassin. It's also been said that this same man went after the Queen Regent, but was stopped before he could finish the job." Murmurs rippled through the men and women in the War Council room.

"Laniel." Robb cursed, having a strong feeling the man was behind both. "Only he'd have the audacity to try something like that. Do we know where he is now?"

"Still in the dungeons from what our few spies in the city have been able to tell us," one of the scouts answered. "He won't talk, he's a Dark Brotherhood assassin. They either find a way to free themselves, or they kill themselves first."

"That's not what worries me," Robb sighed, "What worries me is that people will assume that we hired the assassin."

"Especially if it is discovered that the assassin is from Skyrim," Tullius noted.

"The most honorable house of Westeros hiring assassins?" Robb said, "What will people think of us?"

"That you did what you had to to end the war." Tullius replied seriously, and held up a hand before the young man could protest. "I understand your House is about their honor, about seeing things done in a just manner, but war is anything but honorable. Tywin was willing to let the Freys murder your entire family to win this war. You need to be able to think the same way, or you'll end up getting yourself in another situation with no way out." It was a hard truth, but one that Robb needed to hear. Tullius truly wished that things could go as the young King wished, but the world didn't work that way. You either did what you had to do, or someone else did.

Robb thought on Tullius' words, and thanked the scouts, "Keep me notified of anything else." The scouts bowed and left with all haste. Tullius stayed, and wasn't surprised when Robb turned to address him. "My father always taught us to fight with honor, to try and be just and wise in all of our dealings, but since this war has begun….everything I've been taught has been put to the test. As much as I hate to admit it, you're right. My father's honor demanded that he give the Queen Regent a chance no doubt, to leave the city with her children before Robert had them all executed, and you know how that turned out. My honor demanded that I try and make amends with Walder Frey, and Laniel found proof that he planned to slaughter us during the wedding." Robb slammed a hand against the table, but managed to keep from a more aggressive outburst.

"I've been through my fair share of times that have tested me in similar ways, Robb. It's never easy to have everything you've been raised to believe put to the fire, trust me. But if you're able to endure and adapt, you come out the other side stronger than ever." The Thalmor had obliterated the Legions, and had reached the capital before Tullius knew what had happened. They had done their best, but against the Dominion, the Imperial forces had had no chance because for all of their skills, they had fallen into the same routines, and the elves had found their weaknesses and exploited them fully. It had made Tullius question everything he once knew, but he had grown stronger from the defeats. So he knew what Robb was going through, even if their situations were different. "Just because your enemies don't give you a choice, doesn't mean you have to stoop to their level to succeed. That's what makes you better than them, finding another way that doesn't result in needless bloodshed."

Robb nodded in agreement and turned back to the map. He moved a few pieces that represented his forces and another piece that represented the Imperial Legion, "We're taking back the North a little at a time. Soon we can recover our home of Winterfell."

"If the Boltons don't keep harrassing us," Rikke indicated the piece representing the former Stark allies on the map, "Reports say that they had taken Moat Caitlin, north of the Twins, but that was some time ago now. Things might have changed since, especially with Ramsey Snow running amok."

"Bolton's bastard. I've heard disturbing tales of that man. He's more like the Boltons of old than Roose himself." Robb replied, shivering at the idea that half of said tales were possibly true. "Is it true what your scouts have reported?"

Rikke nodded, "They've seen Theon Greyjoy with them, though it appears he is not of his own mind… and Ramsey calls him by another name. Reek. If I didn't know better, I'd say Ramsey has broken him, in both body and spirit."

Robb sighed heavily, "So he is a hostage of the Boltons?"

"Aye, it would seem that way," came Rikke's answer.

"Is it true what they say about the Boltons?" one of the Legionnaires in the room asked, "Do they actually flay their victims alive?"

"While my father has forbade the practice of torture, it's true that the Boltons were once known to do that, yes." Robb replied, seeing no point in lying since it was well known to be true in their past. "Whether or not they still do, I can't say, but it would not surprise me if they've started to do so again."

The younger soldiers visibly shuddered at the image of a man's skin peeled off, exposing the muscles and bones underneath. Tullius scoffed and turned to his men, not impressed as he crossed his arms over his armored chest. "I don't care if the Boltons breath dragon fire and shit gold. They're still men, just like us you sodding ice brains. They still die when you remove their heads, so what are you shaking about?"

The murmurs of apologies earned a few chuckles from Robb and the older soldiers from both sides before he asked, "What is your plan, General Tullius?"

"The Lannisters are distracted," Tullius answered, "their king was just murdered. Their leader has left the battlefield. They are vulnerable. I think it's time to take the most valuable location from them." Tullius moved the Imperial Legion and Stark pieces onto another part of the map, "Casterly Rock."

Castle Black

Gunmar roughly pushed Rast and Karl into the seats in front of Lord Commander Mormont, Ulfric, and Isran. They had just learned of the stewards' plan to attack the Dawnguard once the battle was raging. Having to deal with an enemy inside their walls was the last thing the Night's Watch and the Dawnguard wanted to be dealing with now, especially since they could be using this time to keep a watch out for the approaching enemy.

"Why?" was Jeor's simple question, "What in Seven Hells were you thinking? You know damn well there are Thenns, wildlings, and vampires bearing down on us." Rast simply shrugged, smiled and said nothing.

"People like him don't need a reason for what they do," Ulfric said, glaring daggers at the two stewards, "They do it simply for the pleasure of doing evil."

"What do you want us to do?" Gunmar asked Isran.

"Chain them up," he said, "Chain all the other stewards as well. I'm not taking any chances. Make sure they have no access to any weapons." Isran watched as the men were led out, but stopped them, "What is that?"

"What?" Gunmar asked, not seeing what Isran had spotted.

Isran walked over to Karl and examined his neck. Grabbing the protesting man by his chin, he forced his head to the side, and growled when he saw it. His eyes narrowed when he saw the two small holes in his neck. He roughly turned the man around and examined his eyes. He relaxed a bit when he saw Karl's eyes were not yellow or red, but that did not make him feel that much better. "He's enthralled."

"What?" Gunmar pulled Karl to him and saw the holes for himself. "When did this happen?" he asked the steward, his eyes glaring.

Karl simply spat in Gunmar's face, "Fuck you, fat man."

"Enthralled are unable to be reasoned with. Better to kill him and be done with it." Isran grunted, and started to reach for the hammer on his back to do the deed himself. When Jeor went to stop him, the Dawnguard leader glared at the old man. "His will isn't his own any longer, but the fact this ice brain let a vampire get close enough to bite him should tell you all you need. He and his fellows aren't happy about us being here, which I could care less about, but it just proves what we've said since the day we got here. Your thieves, rapists, and murderers aren't worth the trouble. People like Karl are better off being put to the sword, not given a second chance to do what they do best."

"Even so, we do not kill our own," Jeor retorted, "Put him and any others like him into the holding cells. We'll deal with them once the battle is over."

"And risk a vampire freeing them during the battle?" Isran hissed, "No, thank you."

Jeor threw his hands up in their air, "Then what would you suggest? Because I'm not going to kill those men."

"You may have to," a voice came from the doorway. Everyone looked to see Jon Snow standing there. "If we let them live, they can tell the wildlings the truth. They could tell them we hardly have the men I told them we did. Mance Rayder has all he needs to destroy us, he just doesn't know it."

"Is this what you truly believe, Snow?" Jeor asked.

"I do."

"A hard truth, but one we'd be fools to ignore." Ulfric said after a moment of thought.

Jeor obviously disagreed, but knowing what was coming, he knew he did not have a choice. "Burn the bodies when you're done." He didn't let them go with that, however. "If you are to carry this out, then you should be the one to swing the blade, Jon Snow." If he thought that would deter Jon, he was disappointed when the man's face remained unchanged. If Jeor hadn't been so disappointed that they were killing their own, he'd have been proud of how far Jon had come in his time among them.

"I was just gonna shoot them with a crossbow," Gunmar quipped, trying to break the tension with a dark-humored jest.

"This way is at least cleaner." Jon replied softly as he gestured for the other brothers of the Watch to drag Karl and his compatriots out into the yard. It was better to be done quickly than dragged out.

Tirdas, the 5th of First Seed

Meereen

Dany and Nakos sat in their bedchambers, enjoying their morning breakfast of fruit, fish and sausage. It was nice to relax before another long day of seeing supplicants. The fact they were spooning in bed, their clothes forgotten somewhere on the floor, certainly made breakfast….an interesting affair.

Nakos took a few grapes and gently placed them in Dany's mouth, "Care to take the day off? I can see to the supplicants for you."

"No," Dany started to sit up, "it's my… our duty to see them together."

Nakos playfully pulled her back down, "Says who?"

"Says the queen," Dany playfully pushed him away before standing up from off the bed. She gave a long sigh before asking, "Any news on Drogon?"

The question seemed to make the air in the room change, and not for the better. "No," Nakos answered, "And Odahviing hasn't seen him, either."

She put on a robe before pouring two goblets of water, "Can't you call him like you do Odahviing?"

"No," Nakos admitted, "at least I don't think so. His name isn't typical Dovahzul; it has no power over him as it might over Odahviing or….a couple other dragons I know."

That information was not what Dany wanted to hear. The Seven forbid something worse happened. She would have lost all control of Drogon for sure. At least her other two dragons were not as wild. But for how long? If she lost control of all three of her dragons, and Nakos could not call them to his side, she did not know what she would do.

"Dany," Nakos wrapped his arms around her waist, "if it comes to it… will you let Drogon go?"

His question confused her, "What do you mean?"

Nakos took a deep breath. It was a hard question, but he had to ask, "If Drogon grows beyond our control… will you let me -"

"No!" she interrupted, knowing what he was asking, "you can't kill him! He's my child!"

"But it may come to it, dii lokaal." Nakos said softly, not wanting to agitate Daenerys any further.

She said nothing at first. "I can't… there must be another way."

"There could be," Nakos admitted, "But that could involve leaving your throne here and going to Skyrim."

Dany turned to face him, "Why would I go there?"

"If you want to rule the Seven Kingdoms, then you will have to learn to control your dragons. I know of one who can help."

"And my dragons?"

"My master can help them as well. Teach them the Way."

Daenerys processed this for a moment. She hated the idea of leaving her throne. But she knew it may have to come to that if Drogon grew more out of control. Before she could give him an answer, however, there was a knock on the door. After covering up, Dany and Nakos called the person in.

It was Ser Barristan Selmy, "I am sorry to interrupt, Your Graces. But I've received word from King's Landing."

"King's Landing?" Dany asked inquisitively, "What do the Lannisters want with me?"

"It's not from the Lannisters," Barristan explained before adding, "and it's not for you." He handed the scroll he was holding to her. Nakos could see the symbol of the Hand of the King on the top. He recognized it from his time in King's Landing, when Tyrion Lannister was Hand of the King. The look on Daenerys' face spoke volumes as to the contents of the letter.

"Ser Jorah Mormont… he's betrayed me."

The Throne Room of the Great Pyramid was deathly quiet, but the tension was palpable as Dany, Nakos, Ser Barristan, and Grey Worm watched Ser Jorah slowly ascend the stairs. He did not get far, though, as both Barristan and Grey Worm stepped in front of him, their hands on their swords. Nakos did not have his weapons on him, but he knew he would not need them. He also decided to say nothing. This was not his fight, after all.

Dany glared daggers at the betrayer, "Why did the usurper pardon you?"

Jorah sighed, "If we could speak alone."

"No," Dany said firmly, "speak to me here. Explain it to me."

"Who do you think sent this to Meereen?" Jorah tried to defend himself, "Who profits? This is the work of Tywin Lannister. He wants to divide us. If we're fighting each other, we're not fighting him."

The lie was not effective. "The pardon was signed the year we met." Dany explained, "Why were you pardoned? Unless you're saying this document was forged."

Jorah's face admitted defeat, "It is not forged."

"Why, then?"

"I sent letters to Varys, the spymaster of King's Landing."

"What was the content of these letters?"

Jorah paused before answering, "Information."

His answer did not satisfy Dany, "What information?" she asked quickly.

"When you and Viserys arrived in Pentos. His plan to marry you to Khal Drogo. When you were married. When your brother died."

Dany took all of this in. "You told him I was carrying Drogo's child?

"I-"

"Yes or no?"

"Khaleesi." Jorah reached out but Dany snatched her hand back.

"Don't call me that," she hissed through clenched teeth, "Did you tell him I was carrying Drogo's child?"

Another pause from Jorah, "Yes."

Dany shook her head, "That wine merchant tried to poison me because of your information." Nakos knew what she was talking about. She had told him about the previous attempt on her life. He almost wished he had been there that day, so he could have set the coward on fire with a word from his Thu'um.

"I stopped you from drinking his wine," Jorah argued.

"Because you knew it was poisoned," Dany retorted.

Jorah nodded, "I suspected."

Dany looked back at Nakos and her eyes filled with tears, "Did you tell him about Nakos? And his dragon?"

Jorah looked at Nakos first, and then back to Dany and nodded, "Forgive me. I never meant… please, Khaleesi, forgive me."

Dany could not even look him in the eye, "You sold my secrets to the man who killed my father and stole my brother's throne…"

"I have protected you. Fought for you. Killed for you."

"...and you want me to forgive you?" she interrupted.

"I have loved you." Jorah pleaded.

"Love? Love? How can you say that to me? Any other man, and I would have you executed. But you," she looked back at the man with hatred and disgust, her dragon blood boiling, "I do not want you in my city dead or alive. Go back to your masters in King's Landing. Collect your pardon if you can."

"Daenerys, please." Jorah reached out to her again, and again she snatched her arm away.

"Don't ever presume to touch me again or speak my name. You have until dusk to collect your things and leave this city. If you're found in Meereen past break of day, I'll have your head thrown into Slaver's Bay. Go. Now."

Jorah did not move at first, but instead kept his gaze on Nakos before he spoke again, "If I am to be exiled, then I will not fight your judgment. But if you're worried about betrayal, Khaleesi, look no further than to the man at your side." Jorah tossed a letter at Daenerys' feet before leaving for good.

Daenerys picked up the letter and opened it. Her mouth fell opened and she slowly turned to face Nakos. "Leave us," she ordered firmly. Both Barristan Selmy and Grey Worm obeyed, leaving Nakos and Dany alone. "You… were at King's Landing?" Dany finally managed to say.

Nakos sighed heavily, having known this was going to come up eventually. "Varys wrote about me too, then."

"You don't deny it?" She asked, her voice bordering on rage at the second of today's betrayals. Jorah had been bad enough, but Nakos as well? Who next would turn out to be an enemy?

"King's Landing was my first destination when I arrived to Westeros four months ago. I was ordered to Westeros by my master to investigate the White Walkers."

"And yet you're here, far from the North. What did they promise you that you became a part of my life as well?" It was clear she wasn't about to believe him on his word alone if the angry look in her eyes was anything to go by.

"Nothing," Nakos said firmly, "My master… is a dragon. His name is Paarthurnax. He also told me to assist you and your dragons and to make sure they did not grow to become dangerous. Unlike Jorah, I can prove what I say is true, Dany." He was prepared to summon the dragon to defend his word if that was what it took.

Dany glared at him, "Then do so." She challenged, not about to let him off the hook. Not after finding out one of her oldest friends and allies had been responsible for more than a little of her troubles. Khal Drogo's death, her unborn baby, all of which could have been prevented perhaps if Jorah hadn't been sharing her secrets to the same people that had ordered her family killed. For Nakos' sake, she hoped that he had a means to defend himself if he couldn't prove his word was true, because if not, exile would be the last thing on her mind.

"PAAR..THUR NAX!" Nakos' shout reverberated throughout the mountains, almost bringing them down on the city below. The two of them waited for a moment on the mountaintop before the sky was filled with the familiar roar of a dragon. A few moments later, a green-scaled dragon landed in front of them. Unlike Odahviing, who appeared young, this dragon appeared to be old. Its wings were tattered and it moved slower than Odahviing did.

"Drem Yol Lok, Dovahkiin," the dragon greeted Nakos and nuzzled him.

Nakos placed his forehead on the beast's snout, "Paarthurnax, dii wuth fahdon, my old friend."

"Ah," Paarthurnax noticed Daenerys standing behind Nakos, "This must be the Monah do Dovah. The Mother of Dragons."

"You are Nakos' master?" Dany asked in awe, not because she was speaking to a dragon, but because Nakos had called a dragon his master.

"Geh, I am." Paarthurnax said, almost smiling, "I take it Nakos is taking care of your kiir, your children."

"My children? Then… it's true," Dany breathed a small sigh of relief and turned to Nakos, "So you were telling the truth."

"I might not tell you everything about me, my love," Nakos said with a smile, "but I would never lie to you."

"Are they stiildus? Are they calm?" Paarthurnax asked both of them.

Nakos hesitated before answering, "Rhaegal and Viserion are. But the oldest… Drogon…"

Paarthurnax grumbled, "I sensed his volgom, his wildness. I can feel it now."

"What can we do?" Dany asked.

"Lif nii wah dovah. Some problems are best left between the children of Akatosh, Monah do Dovah. I will do what I can." Paarthurnax replied, his tone comforting and soft as he leveled his head at eye level. "We are too few to kill unless we are beyond bahvit, beyond saving."

It would have to be enough for now. Her gaze narrowed again somewhat as she held up the letter, "But Nakos, what about your visit in King's Landing?"

"I sent Nakos to King's Landing," Paarthurnax answered, "I sensed a great vokul ko brom, an evil in the North."

"The White Walkers?" Dany asked and both Nakos and Paarthurnax nodded.

"At King's Landing," Nakos added, "I had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting the Lannisters… and Varys. The Queen Regent, Cersei Lannister, held me prisoner until I found a chance to escape. That was when I went to you, in Qarth."

"But how did you know…" Dany began to ask, but Paarthurnax expected her answer.

"Dovah are sensitive to each other. Odahviing sensed the laas do kiir, the life of your children and followed their life forces to Qarth, which is how Nakos rund hi, found you."

Dany nodded in understanding. There were so many other questions she wanted to ask, but she knew that, in due time, they would be answered. But there was one question that she needed to know the answer to. "Varys says you kidnapped a Stark?"

"I saved a Stark," Nakos corrected.

"How? Why?" Dany asked, "You know the history between my family and the Starks. Why did you not tell me about this?"

Nakos nodded his head slowly and gently grasped Dany's fingers between his own before he began to speak. "When I helped Sansa, I didn't see a Stark. I saw a young girl who was being held captive, and tortured against her will. I wanted to set her free. I am sure you of all people would understand that." At her slow nod, Nakos continued. "As for why I didn't tell you sooner, I was still learning about this world, about the histories between the Houses. When I finally knew everything I needed to know, it honestly slipped my mind until now. But to answer your question, I didn't nor do I still care if they are Starks and you are Targaryen, What your father, the Mad King did, was beyond redemption. But you are not your father. And while I don't agree with what was done to your family afterward, I do not hold with the idea that the Starks can't become allies, if you are able to look past what happened years ago."

Dany had never thought about leaving the past behind. All this time, she had been focused on returning to the Throne, and establishing the Targaryens as the rightful rulers, just as Aegon did all those years ago with his dragon, Balerion the Black Dread. But Jorah had told her that Aegon had had no right to the throne, any more than Robert had before he had been killed. That they had taken it by force, just as she had planned to. And now Nakos was saying something similar to her at that moment. But how did you let go of the past when it was all you heard about from a brother who had talked about little else? It was all she knew….or at least, all she would have known if not for the people… and dragons in her life now. "Too much has happened today….for me to make a clear decision on what we do from here." She began, but put a finger to Nakos's lips before he could say a word, "but… I am glad you have tried to help me through all that we've been through together, Nakos." A chuckle emanated from the dragon as the two shared a kiss.

Tirdas, the 5th of First Seed

Just Outside Silent Moons Camp

Sansa said nothing as she turned the black soul gem around in her hands. She, Mjoll, and Serana were about a day's ride southeast of Morthal, having traveled four days, and they had yet to fill the soul gem. The only trouble they ran into were wild animals, and they were easily taken care of. Sansa was surprised at her own speed and strength as she fought bears, sabertooths, and wolves, and the more she fought, the more she started to have second thoughts about being cured of her vampirism. The fact she wasn't helpless anymore, besides her powerful magic anyway, which had failed her against the Falmer, was not lost on Sansa. Despite her fear of not being accepted by her mother and brother, even Arya, because of what she was now, she didn't want to give up this new power Serana had given to her. The three of them camped a ways away from Silent Moons Camp, a known bandit hideout. It was a safe bet that they could fill the black soul gem there. Sansa and Serana took the first watch as Mjoll slept. Serana watched Sansa as she played with the black soul gem.

"Starting to enjoy your newfound powers?" Serana asked, seemingly reading her mind, much to Sansa's surprise.

Sansa looked up, casting her yellow eyes on the fellow vampire, "Is it that obvious?"

"Be careful, Sansa," Serana warned, "You're walking a thin line here. You may find yourself in a place you won't be able to escape from."

"Easy for you to say. You weren't trapped in King's Landing. You weren't ever weak and stupid like I was."

"Maybe not, but I still know what it's like to get addicted to the power we possess. I've seen what it did to my father, my mother, and everyone in my old home. I was the only sane one."

"I'm not your father," Sansa found herself saying before she even realized it, "or your mother."

"No you're not, but the same temptation still lingers, Sansa. The idea you're somehow better than everyone else, that you're unstoppable. You might feel strong now, but like any power, if you let it control you, you become the monster you were so afraid of. Like Joffrey or Cersei."

"I won't become like them," Sansa retorted.

"You may not have a choice," Serana shot back, "if you don't control it. Trust me, I know how hard it can be, both from personal experience and from seeing how it affected the people around me."

Sansa gritted her teeth to keep herself from yelling or waking Mjoll, "Then teach me to control it."

Serana crossed her arms, "And why would I do that?"

"I am a wolf of the North. And I finally have my teeth, to put it mildly. But even wolves can become wild. I want to make sure that my teeth sink into the right person."

"We're here to make sure you won't ever have to be faced with that situation," Serana replied, "That's why we're going to Morthal."

Sansa stared at the gem for a moment, "And if I don't want to go?"

Sansa's question took Serana off-guard. She hadn't expected that response, "What do you mean?"

"What if I dont want to be cured?"

"Then I suggest you keep that soul gem, just in case you change your mind."

Sansa stared at the gem for a long moment, contemplating the choice before her. Return to being a living, breathing young woman again, and lose her ability to physically dominate her opponents, or keep what Serana had bestowed upon her, and possibly be feared as a creature best destroyed on sight? Either choice had its pros and cons, and there was another thought to consider. Did she really want to go back to Winterfell? Did she want to be the stupid bird again, mindlessly going along with everything that was expected of her? Even if she didn't remain a vampire, she still had to decide if what she wanted to do afterward. Here, she had far more freedom than she had ever had back home, in Westeros. Before she could make a decision, she heard voices further ahead at the bandit's camp. She looked at Serana and Serana nodded. She heard it too. Serana crossed over and shook Mjoll awake, "They're here."

The three of them stuck to the shadows and made their way to the camp. Though none of them were assassins, the bandits were too drunk off of mead and feasting on deer meat to notice them sneaking up before it was too late. Mjoll herself took down three, but Serana and Sansa took down five each. Only one bandit remained, and upon seeing the vampires, he fell flat on his ass and scooted away in fear. "Please… please don't…" he pleaded.

"Maybe you should have taken a different path in life." Sansa said, slowly closing the distance between them. A hand on her arm stopped her though, and she shook off whatever impulse had made her want to taste the bandit's fear before ripping his throat open. She looked to see Serana holding her arm.

"No," Serana said sternly.

"I thought you wanted me to fill this soul gem," Sansa snapped back.

"You're not in the right state of mind. You'll find yourself tearing out this man's throat before you even realize it."

"Then how…"

"Cast your Soul Trap spell," Serana said, and her tone was more like an order than a suggestion.

When Sansa did so, Mjoll quick drove Grimsever through the man's chest. Sansa watched as an ethereal purple form seemed to float from the man's body and into the black soul gem, which glowed the same purple color and hummed softly. "There," Mjoll sighed and placed Grimsever in its sheath. It's done." Sansa held the newly-filled gem in her hand, which seemed to vibrate softly.

"Well, Sansa," Serana spoke up, "What's your decision? Do we continue to Morthal?"

Middas, the 6th of First Seed

King's Landing

The sound of the door to the jail cell opening shook Laniel from his sleep. He instinctively reached for his waist for a dagger, but sighed when he remembered where he was and what had happened. He wiped his eyes clean and saw the newcomer: a tall, lanky man with a light brown complexion, carrying a torch to light the jail cell. His beard was well-trimmed and formed to fit his somewhat pointed chin. He wore a yellow robe that prominently displayed the sigil of House Dorne on the shoulders and on the back.

"Lord Oberyn Martell, I presume," Laniel greeted the man. He had seen the man before during his scouting of the castle, and he knew that Oberyn hated the Lannisters as much as he did.

Oberyn eyed Laniel up and down, and gave a small smile, "So you're the one who killed the king," he chuckled, "You're a wanted man. Everyone wants you dead."

Laniel scoffed, "Everyone? I thought everyone hated the king."

"Well," Oberyn placed the torch on the wall and sat down on the stool, "the Lannisters want you dead, anyway. Especially Cersei and Tywin."

Laniel crossed his arms over his chest, "You're taking a risk talking to me."

Oberyn shrugged, "I like to live on the edge." He leaned forward with a sly smile, "I heard that the king had blood pouring out of every hole of his body. An interesting choice to use Crimson Nirnroot as a poison."

Laniel's eyes went up. "You know your poisons, Lord Oberyn."

"I do," Oberyn said, proud that he could impress the assassin with his vast knowledge of poisons, "I studied them in the Citadel."

Laniel gave a small chuckle, "Then this may not look very good for you. Wouldn't they think you had something to do with it? Perhaps they may think you hired me."

Oberyn waved his hand dismissively, "Let them think what they want."

"So…" Laniel leaned back against the wall, "what are people saying about me?"

"Some are wondering how a Faceless Man could have botched an assassination. Others think that you're just a common assassin who got lucky. The Lannisters think it was the Starks that hired you. And I am inclined to believe them." Laniel shot Oberyn a surprised look, and Oberyn shrugged, "What are the chances that a few days after thousands of soldiers from Skyrim arrive in Westeros to aid the Starks, that an assassin from that very same country would kill the king?" Laniel had expected this would happen and inwardly cursed his bad timing. "Tell me," Oberyn continued, "Why would the Starks hire a Dark Brotherhood assassin?"

Another surprised look from Laniel. "You know of the Dark Brotherhood?"

Oberyn again shrugged, "I've… heard rumors of them from my times in Skyrim… and Cyrodiil… and Hammerfell. I've been to Tamriel quite a few times."

The tone and chuckle in Oberyn's voice told Laniel the exact nature of his visits and he shook his head in disbelief. "The Starks didn't hire me," Laniel said finally, and it wasn't a complete lie. "I was simply making it easier for them to win the war." He was in no way going to tell this man about Arya.

"But no doubt word has finally reached them."

"They wouldn't risk men to rescue me. Robb doesn't like me very much." Laniel watched Oberyn for a moment before speaking again, "I doubt you came all the way down here just so you can see the man who killed the king."

"No, I didn't," Oberyn's face became hard as stone, "I wanted to know if you had considered Queen Margaery's offer."

"You mean making sure she stays on the Throne," Laniel remembered the conversation, but wondering how the man knew about this conversation.

As if reading Laniel's mind, Oberyn spoke up, "All three of us have a hatred for the Lannisters. I, more so than both of you. And I think an alliance can be managed." Oberyn walked over to Laniel and crouched beside him, "She and I have had a lengthy discussion, and we have come to an agreement. You send out word and Margaery receives her protection. In return, she makes sure you are… misplaced. And I hire you."

"I don't know if you noticed," Laniel indicated his leg wound, "but even if you were to hire me, I would not be of much help. I cannot stand on this leg for very long."

"Oh please," Oberyn scoffed, "The Dark Brotherhood always has ways of fulfilling their mission. And I will make sure you are paid handsomely."

A small, evil smile crept up on Laniel's lips, "Who am I killing?"

"Gregor Clegane, the Mountain that Rides." The name was like poison on Oberyn's lips. "He raped my sister, killed her children, and split her in half with his greatsword. I want him to suffer. Like Joffrey suffered."

"I can do that, so long as you provide the poisons."

"I'll be sure you have your fair share."

"Then, the only problem is my leg. I'd rather not leave anything to chance if I am to face such a formidable foe." Laniel was not arrogant enough to believe he could stand up against the likes of Gregor without having every advantage on his side first. Letting a leg wound slow him down was a sure way to end up split in half himself.

"Then I suppose it's a good thing I kept something from my time in Tamriel." Oberyn chuckled as he tossed Laniel a leather water bag. "I told the guards it was wine from Dorne, and they weren't about to ask a Prince to hand it over. But inside is enough healing potion to bring one of your Legions back from the brink." It was an exaggeration, but Laniel was just grateful for the gift.

"And you just happened to have this on you?" Laniel chuckled at the coincidence.

"I'm here in a den of vipers," Oberyn retorted with a laugh, "I need something in case one of them tries to kill me."

Laniel uncorked the top and drained half of the bag in one shot. He groaned as relief immediately filtered down to his leg, and the bones and torn sinew knit themselves back together just as quickly. Laniel smiled and looked to Oberyn as he handed the leather bag back, "Tell Queen Margaery that her help will be arriving soon."

"Good to hear," Oberyn stood to his feet, "There is one thing. I want to hear the Mountain confess to his crimes before you kill him."

"That can be arranged," Laniel said crossing his legs, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to call on an old friend." Oberyn smiled and left the cell. Laniel closed his eyes and concentrated. It was time to summon Lucien.