sv2-audiotest Chapter 2: redhairlemonsquares1, a x-overs fanfic

May 29, 2018

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I woke to silence. Odd, did my A/C quit during the night? If so, I should have been feeling humidity, but all I felt is warmth. Maybe I was just dreaming a pleasant scenario. At least I wouldn't hit my head on the head board because I thought I was flying again. I move to a more comfortable posit…

Wait, why was I feeling fur? I should have felt my properly broken-in satin sheets I begged for (as a teenager) from my parents. I jerked up and opened my eyes. I was in a stone room right out of an Elizabethan drama. It was lovely, but definitely not mine. Where were my books? Where's my stacks of DVD's from the Goodwill and Amazon? Where are my twinkly lights? My TV? My bathroom connecting to my sister's room? And, most importantly, WHERE ARE MY SHELVES OF BOOKS?

"Ah, you're awake!" I heard someone say. I turned to see a girl about a decade younger than me turn and run out the door.

I fell back on the bed. At least it felt like my own. Sturdy, but comfortable without being a marshmallow. I closed my eyes, ready to wake up and admit that I probably shouldn't watch so many period dramas. (Then again, most of my favorites are Regency and Victorian era, so this doesn't really pan out. What was I watching that would have me dream of this time period? Even the last documentary I watched wasn't about this era, it was my favorite three-parter on the Romanovs.)

"Sansa, sweetling, are you awake?" I heard someone ask. I opened my eyes to see a striking red-headed woman. Seriously, her hair is the shade I've dreamed about having naturally. The woman came over, warmth and relief in her eyes. She put her hand on my head, much like how my Mom did when I was a kid. "There now, mother will make you feel better."

I heard the love in her voice and it took everything in me not to back up and scream at her, asking where my real mom was. My mom is a pretty woman in her 70's with only a liver spot on her cheek to give away her age and a teasing manner. This woman could never be her.

Wait. Why wasn't I panicking? Something like this would normally send me into a mild attack, but my chest didn't even tighten. Why should you panic? Tis only Mother.

That voice—shit, why was I hearing a child's voice? Giggling. That isn't a very nice word. I'm Sansa Stark, oldest daughter of Lord Stark of Winterfell. And I'll have you know, I'm barely a child. I'm almost seven name-days.

Great. I got SI'd into Game of Thrones. Not only that, but I got Si'd into Sansa.

What does that mean?

It meant that I'd be there for who knows how long and I did not want to live the life set out for Sansa. Still, there was at least one upside—I've always wanted to be a natural redhead.

After Lady Cat left, I managed to get out of bed and dressed for the day. I quickly braided my hair and tied a tight ribbon, wanting to keep it out of my face. Luckily, being a kid meant I had an easier dress code than if I were her age in the show. No corsets or fiddly buttons. No zipper either, though. I looked into the small mirror at the vanity and saw a beautiful child, with gorgeous red hair and bright blue eyes. Oddly enough, despite the face shape, there were small differences from Lady Cat. The shape of the eye was different, as well as the nose and set of the mouth. I also lacked the widow's peak both Lady Cat and my real self possessed (although mine was more subtle than Lady Cat's obvious one.) It appeared Sansa had more than just Tully in her looks. Was it her Whent blood? Or the Starks? I tried to recall the features listed in the books—long faces, grey eyes, black hair, and tall. Well, if this Sansa was anything like her actress, I would at least become tall (oh, all the Hobbit jokes I could make to Holly. As it was, her being more than four inches shorter than me made me bad enough.)

I suddenly begin to cry a little. Would I ever see her again? Or my mom? Or my dogs? Or Holly's baby? Or my nephew? Shit, I was going to be a great aunt soon and I wouldn't even be there to see it. I wouldn't be able to spoil little Nova when she was born.

There, there. I'm sorry. You must miss them so much.

"Sansa?" A boy, a bit taller than Sansa with black hair and the awkwardness of someone unsure where they stood was before me—Jon Snow! He was easily the most endearing character to me (aside from Sansa during her less idiotic moments) and I pounced and hugged him with feelings that were partly my own and partly those of a younger sister. He patted me and tried to extract himself from the limpet I'd made myself. Good to know my need for cuddles transferred to this world.

He cleared his throat. I looked up and tried to compare him to the delectable Kit. He was much closer in looks to the book than to Kit. Thank goodness. While Jonsa is an occasional guilty pleasure (crack is crack, and it takes on many forms) I couldn't imagine how to reconcile the sisterly feelings Sansa has with my own lusts. But it's Jon! And he's a bastard! And my brother!

Another good point. Then again, if the show is right about his heritage…No, that's a can of worms I didn't need to be going down. Right now, I needed to assess the situation and figure out a long-term and short-term plan.

"I'm glad to see you've had no lingering effects from your fever, m'lady." I giggled. If I were in my normal body, I'd probably coo at the gentlemanly manners. However, I could feel Sansa think this normal. "I was sent to see if you were able to walk down to break your fast." He managed to extricate himself and made a little bow. I nodded in response and took his arm. He seemed surprised at my move. I mentally asked Sansa and she mentioned that she's been trying to follow her lady mother's example.

Ah, so this is about the time that happened.

Then why was she with me on the hug?

Given how I've had a fever, I was happy to see any of my siblings. Jon is still a brother, and he steals me lemon cakes on occasion.

I wondered if she realized that would have stopped if she continued acting like Lady Cat. Gasp.

Oh well. Obviously, it hasn't done too deep of damage yet. I would just have to change things a bit.

Okay, short-term plan:

Treat Jon better

Send a letter to Benjen, asking about lore up at the Wall

Get access to some books and assess Sansa's education

See about bringing a Mormont to Winterfell (if only to influence old Neddy for Arya in the future.)

I'll figure out the long-term plan later (except for the Others, those fuckers need to be exterminated, yesterday.) My stomach growled and we had reached the breakfast table. I sat down and nodded to the family, grabbed a plate and began fixing a lovely, if small meal.

Okay, so I've finally gotten bit by the SI bug. Also, are there any other Sansa SI's? I've seen Cat, Cersei, Lyanna, Stannis, Bobby B, Jon, etc. but no Sansa. I thought about it and decided, if you can't wait for others to write it, try it yourself.

That said, I've decided to mix it up a little. Little!Sansa is there and will help with any hiccups my SI might have (as evidenced already by the panic attack avoidance, as well as restraining from screaming at Lady Cat.) Because of where my SI has about a decade-and-a-half on her, however, Sansa will be a more subtle and behind-the-scenes player in the point-of-view. That said, the two might eventually merge as time goes on.

Right now, though, let me know what you think. (Cross-posted on )

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Steampunkunicorn

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Sewing is boring. I wasn't even working on making any clothes or blankets. At least if it was something that would be helpful, I could have pretended I was back home, experimenting with quilt-making. No, instead, it was stupid embroidery. Don't get me wrong, I love how it could look. I understood the importance of illustrating the time and patience put into something that hints at rank and station. I just didn't have the patience to do it, myself.

It isn't that bad. I find it enjoyable.

Perhaps if I wasn't surrounded by clueless ninnies and an annoying Septa.

"Sansa, your stitches are too close together. If you keep this up, you'll ruin the sigil." Grr. Septa Mordane is a supercilious, condescending old biddy.

You should respect your teachers, especially when they are doing their best to help you.

Except she wasn't. She tended to do her own work, not bothering to show us how to do the stitches. If she looked over, it was because we were being too loud. Luckily Sansa knew how to deal with her friends. I looked over at Arya, who was attempting and failing to do a basic line stitch. Granted, she was only a young child and was only becoming acquainted with the needle and thread, but the old biddy acted as though she should be at my skill level (which was actually Sansa's skill level and actually beyond mine, but still.) It doesn't help that the chits poke fun at her.

There's nothing wrong with a little bit of teasing. Besides, it will teach her to be patient, something Arya is already having trouble maintaining.

Wow, does this explain a lot about the sisters' dynamic. First off, teasing is one thing, but Arya was clearly taking things to heart, making it more akin to bullying. Also, surely Sansa understood that Arya was starting to become her own person, with different interests from her sister.

Oh, you mean like how you've shown by ignoring my interests? I can't wait for you to be gone and life can get back to normal.

Me too. At that moment, Arya's temper heated to the surprise of everyone but me. The old biddy began to reprimand her (but did nothing to the airheads, though they provoked her.) Arya ran out of the room. Having Sansa reign helped.

"Septa Mordane, please allow me to fetch my sister. I will see her calmed and returned." I flashed a sweet Sansa smile and the old biddy relaxed. There's the woman's favoritism from the book. I sent a look at the airheads, wanting to remind them of their place in the pecking order, but not wanting to start my own fight and was on my way.

It took no time to find Arya. Luckily, her stubby child legs only took her to her room. I knocked and entered the ajar door.

"What do you want?" She looked up at me with petulance and a bit of pride.

"I wanted to make sure you're okay. I know you haven't had the easiest time learning and today seemed particularly bad for you." That was almost all Sansa. She knew better than me how to approach her sister. God, as much as I wanted to be a big sister, I am so glad I was the youngest by two decades. All my nieces and nephews were older than me or so young, I was more mother than sister to them.

"Septa Mordane hates me. I don't know why!" She began crying at that. I took her into my arms and rubbed her back until she was cried out. It only took a few minutes, but it did the trick.

"I don't think she hates you. I just think she doesn't understand you. Septa Mordane comes from the South, like Mother. When we're learning from her, she sees more North in you than South and she doesn't understand it." Albeit, this was my interpretation rather than fact, but it made Arya thoughtful. "We are of the First Men, of blood ten thousand years old, living in the North. I think Septa Mordane is just jealous. Her family is Andal, like Mother. She wants us to be Mother, but we're not. Do you know why?" I made sure to look Arya in the eye, hoping that the boost in her confidence would help.

"Because we are Starks? Because we are of the North?" Arya's voice grew louder, gaining a smile.

I couldn't help it, I hugged her tightly. "That's right. We are Starks. We prepare for the worst. We are practical, and hard, and our own selves. I am Sansa and you are Arya. Always remember that."

We skipped the rest of the sewing lesson. Arya wanted to see the boys' lessons and I was willing to indulge her.

Sansa was upset at the idea, but I think seeing how affected Arya was by both the treatment and my words gave her a better tolerance for the day.

Mayhaps I will try this with Arya as well, whenever I wake from this dream.

That stopped me short. Did Sansa still think this, that I was a dream?

What other explanation is there? I've heard of such things from those suffering fever dreams.

Okay, delusions are one thing, but I was real. And this was all too vivid for me to have as a dream. Hell, the only reason I haven't broken down yet is because Sansa has been keeping my emotions under check.

"Sansa, come on." Arya demanded and pulled me toward the training yard. I followed automatically. Of course, now that we've had the big revelation, Sansa wants a freak out. I couldn't give one before and now she's trying to at the worst time. I focused inwards and tried to keep her calm, much like how she did so with me when I thought about my own life. There, there, indeed.

"Do you think Father might let me learn to use a sword?" Arya's little voice poked through.

"I don't know. Father mentioned that Aunt Lyanna wanted to learn, but wasn't allowed."

"But we're Starks!" Arya looked up at me with big puppy eyes. I wanted nothing more than to hug her and tell her I would try my best. However, I knew that would be raising false hope. For one, Arya was too young. Also, it took Arya smuggling Needle to King's Landing before she was allowed to learn. (Sansa gasped at the idea of that.) While I had some plans to work on Neddy, getting him to allow it earlier, those would still take some time.

"And Father is a Stark. If he told you that you could still be a Stark and not be allowed to use a sword, would you tell him otherwise?" Admittedly, this kind of logic might be a bit advanced, but it was better to use it than treat her like an idiot. It would do us no favors and make it harder to help her in the long run.

"I guess not." She admitted after a minute.

I smiled and pulled her close as we watched Robb and Jon practice with blunted swords.

"Can I ask you a question, Maester Luwin?" Luwin looked up from his current book to see little Sansa Stark peering up at him with innocent eyes.

"You can always come to me child. I am willing to answer any questions you may have." Luwin was not going to discourage the girl. Since waking from her fever dream a fortnight before, young Sansa seemed to be more academically inclined. He had noticed an improvement on her sums and her sudden interest in history books. He had worried that she tended to shy away from such things in favor of her songs, but she had apparently needed a bit more time to grow into other interests.

"I've noticed that when I go to learn the harp, Robb goes to a private lesson with you and Jon doesn't. Why is that?" Ah, she had been learning about the distinctions of birth from before her fever, but it appeared that she didn't fully understand it.

"Well, my dear, it is because Robb will grow up to become Lord of Winterfell and must learn how to be a lord."

"But Jon doesn't? Will he not become one of Robb's bannermen? How can he do that if he doesn't learn to be a Lord, too? Or does Father have something else planned for Jon?" Confusion eeked out of her bright blue eyes. Luwin sighed, having had similar thoughts but not having asked Lord Stark.

"Lord Stark has not spoken to me of what he plans for Jon's future. As such, I cannot prepare him for a future I do not know to prepare him for. As a bastard, he will never become Lord of Winterfell, but Lord Stark has not made mention of a potential keep for Jon." Luwin rubbed the bridge of his nose. "What brought this on?"

"Arya and I discussed how we have to learn to embroider while Jon and Robb don't, which led to us discussing how our lessons differ. Then, I noticed Jon sitting in on my harp lesson and asked him why. He told me he didn't have any lessons at that time while Robb did." Goodness, Luwin mused, not only amazed by how little Sansa could say all of that in one breath, but also how grown up she sounded. Perhaps she was farther ahead than other children her age? He would have to speak to Lord Stark about this, as well as his own questions. So caught up in his musings, he did not notice Sansa leaving with a gleam in her eye.

Okay, so we had a little sister bonding (I've always wanted younger siblings and, suddenly, I'm a middle child,) as well as setting some foundation for my SI's plans. A little bit of a reaction from both parties as they realise the extent of sharing a consciousness, as well as a few hints of my own self peeking through the character. Right now, a lot of the progressipn will be laying down the foundation. There is little that a child can do to affect the world at large, so my SI is trying to improve her immediate world.

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Steampunkunicorn

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I'll admit, sewing was getting better. This was for two reasons. The first being that Robb and Jon had to attend two days a week. When I argued with Maester Luwin and Neddy about how it wasn't fair that us girls were stuck sewing when both girls and boys could find it useful, I'll admit, I wasn't expecting this. (I had hoped that it meant less time for me and Arya to be forced to deal with the old biddy, but I'll take what I could get.) The second reason is that we were actually working on something practical. The fact that we were making clothing that would get worn by those less well off than the family I was currently a part of.

Arya's giggling brought me out of my thoughts. Somehow Robb had managed to sew his finger to the fabric. I giggled as well. I then went over to help him disentangle the thread and separate the two objects. All the while, Robb had a look on his face, like he didn't understand how he got there.

Meanwhile, Jon had finished a beautiful, warm shirt. It was to be sent to a crofter's son who was apprenticing in Wintertown. I continued to internally smirk at Jon's natural ability with a needle and thread. Whatever Neddy decides to do, whether Jon goes to the Wall or gets a keep, or is just sent off to be a sellsword across the Narrow Sea, he would at least be able to earn coin to live from his needle.

After saving Robb from himself, I returned to the dress I was making. It was a plain shade of brown, but sturdy. It would last whatever woman had need of it. I was almost done and decided to add a small border. It wasn't fancy, like the embroidery work, but it made the dress a bit nicer (which Sansa happily agreed to.)

Septa Mordane was also pretty silent these days. The old biddy refused to praise Jon and had trouble 'teaching' Robb, much in the same way as Arya. Instead, I took over helping them. I reminded them how the skills would help, not only in charity efforts, but in care in travels, stitching up wounded, and keeping a small weapon on their person. (The last bit was hard to convince them of, but I mentioned how most people wouldn't see it as a threat and could be used to poke someone and give an extra second to attack. Sansa balked at the idea, which made me smile a little.) Since the initial freak out, she's been trying to keep a tight lid on things. I'd been trying to get it out and over with. I'd had mine and was adjusting. I was worried she still thought of me as a fever dream.

"Why do we have to have boys here?" The question came from Ninny #2, Beth Cassel. Admittedly, she was younger and was following an example more than actually being a ninny, but I still didn't care for her.

"They are learning valuable lessons with us. Besides, more people means more work gets done." I pointed out.

"At least they keep the Horseface busy." Ninny #1 said—Jeyne Poole. She was supposed to be Sansa's best friend. As a result, I tended to let Sansa take the lead with her most of the time, but she aggravated me to no end. She was petty and shallow and reminded me of the memories that liked to rear their ugly head when my anxiety reminded me of my inability to socialise.

"Arya is not a Horseface!" I snapped. "She is your Lord's daughter and will grow into her face. I've no doubt she will be as beautiful as your Lord's sister was rumoured to be." I felt my face heat. I felt my temper wring me out and turn inward. Sansa stayed quiet, not wanting to involve herself in a fight.

"I'm sorry my lady." Jeyne's head bowed, her hair covering her face. I felt a pang of sympathy and my anger dissipated. While she was a ninny and an airhead, she was still a child and could grow into a better person (one with a kinder fate than what a vaguely remember from the books. Didn't she have the Ramsey marriage storyline?)

"I am glad you understand." I stated, not unkindly. "While I do consider you my friend, Arya is my sister and is younger than us. She is also different, with different interests. She does her best and we should build her up, as well as each other. There is too much pettiness in the world for us to do otherwise." I gently grabbed her chin and had her face me as I finished speaking. While it may not affect too much in the long run, it was better to make things a little better where I could.

We returned to sewing in peace, Jeyne having a small smile on her face.

Lord Stark sat in his solar, contemplating his children. Specifically, his red haired enigma that his Lady Wife had been complaining about.

Ever since her fever, Sansa had been both herself and not herself. At times, she was the sweet girl that loved songs. Other times, she acted oddly, humming songs he did not recognize, arguing over lessons. While he was glad about some changes, such as Arya doing better in her lessons and less fighting between the two, he still felt that something was forever altered and there was nothing he could do to fix it.

It seemed that very time there was a change to life in Winterfell, it was from Sansa's prodding or from an argument Sansa had or from a remark in a conversation someone had with Sansa. He had watched her closely. Having Jon and Robb attend sewing lessons with the girls helped. They informed him of how the girls would behave (quite different from the reports Septa Mordane gave him.) Admittedly, he had first done so as a way of preventing Sansa from badgering him with questions as to the differences in lessons between the girls and the boys (frankly, he never understood outside of what was expected and didn't see the harm in allowing a few more shared lessons.)

Maester Luwin also informed him of his private tutoring with Sansa. Given her recent academic advancements, Luwin suggested a more personalised learning schedule. So far, Sansa had spent a great deal of time learning the history of the North, as well as the legends.

That was another change that worried him. Before her fever, Sansa had exclusively preferred the tales and romances of her Mother's home, as well as the South and Knights in general. Now, she would pester Old Nan for some of the grislier stories, as well as the more fantastic stories of what was beyond the Wall.

Lord Stark sighed as he returned to his reading. Sansa had suggested an idea of borrowing some Reach techniques for Northern farming. Though she had little idea the specifics, she had thought since the Reach had perfected their farming techniques, perhaps some could be applied to certain areas of the North. While he wasn't entirely sure, he had promised her that he would research some of the techniques in the hope that they might improve the North.

Sansa was tired of reading such thick, boring books. Nothing but tales of Others and the Wall for weeks now. She simply didn't understand how someone could find such books interesting.

It is interesting because it is important.

There the voice went again. She (Sansa had figured the voice was a girl from the thoughts and information shared between the two) would say this when Sansa complained.

Look, we'll have Nan tell you Florian and Jonquil when we're done here, happy?

Sansa sighed and returned to the girl's scribblings of possible meanings for what was written. How could there be more than one possibility? Surely what was written was what was meant?

Except word meanings and context change over time, and we have thousands of years of change to interpret.

Sansa was about to let the voice completely take over when she noticed something. The voice had gotten something wrong in the passage.

Gah, I've really let my research skills slide. This is why I should have studied something other than literature. I could've made a better impact on Westeros. I should have listened to my dad and been a STEM girl…

Sansa tuned out the ramblings. She had gotten quite used to doing so, not that she often understood them, anyway. She double checked the date of the record, confirming that it was from before the family acquired their sword Ice. Yet, this was a record of her ancestor using a blade of the same name nearly a century before the current Ice was given to the family. It was even referred to as the weapon of the family seat. So, what happened during that century? What happened to the old Ice?

Whatever happened, she and the voice were in agreement as to wanting the answers.

Okay, so we have more foundation work, as well as some ripples being seen. My SI is going with what information is available to her from my 24 years of experience and a bachelor's degree in English Literature and a minor in Criminology. As such, most of the research will be in-universe and a hodge-podge of trivial, but sometimes useful information. We also got more outside pov (though I am having trouble with ol' Neddy. I admit, I've always had some trouble with his character and will sometimes mix fanon characterisation with the books and Sean Bean. Nevertheless, I felt he was a good choice to illustrate how different my SI can be. Ned loves his children and can accept things about them that Catelyn can't or won't. He is also not immediately dismissive of his children's suggestions, provided they make sense. The farming bit is something my SI remember from other SI fics, but knows very little outside of keeping a small vegetable garden and how to perfectly tie up tomato plants every time (useful, but not in this context.)

We also see how Sansa deals with my SI, being influenced and working with the voice to achieve the goals set out. Sansa is still very much a child and my SI wants her to have a childhood, so there is negotiation from time to time. (My SI will probably hate Florian and Jonquil by the end, but it is one of Sansa's favorites and can be a fun break from all the research.)

As for the weapon, I remember reading somewhere the idea of there being a previous Ice and liking the idea, so I decided to adopt it. I don't remember what fic it was from, nor the author, but I will admit when I borrow ideas.

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Steampunkunicorn

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Steampunkunicorn

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#14

God, I needed a drink. Not that I'm condoning letting a child drink (my family didn't allow us to even have a sip at family events until we were at least pre-teens) but my mind needed a drink.

Unfortunately, all I get to choose from is milk and fruit juice.

Both of which are healthy to drink and will suffice. Father lets us drink one cup at feasts. You can last until then.

Yeah, yeah, I could make it until then. I wish I didn't have to, but I could. Seriously, I'd been stuck here for over a month now and I didn't know if I was doing any good. Sure, Arya was becoming more confident and I've gotten as close to Jon as I was Robb, but how would that help in the long run?

I had no clue what to do about Theon. Thank goodness he didn't join the sewing lessons, at least. I had enough conflicting emotions about him. On one hand, he needed to be completely loyal to the North. But every step that could be taken would pull him away from his Father's love, which would become a huge motivator in the war. The further away he was, either he would be more loyal to the North or the bigger the betrayal would have been. On the other hand, it would have been easier to arrange an accident and nip the problem in the bud. Gasp. But if that happened, the idiot squid could have used it as an excuse for another rebellion or at least reaving the coasts, and the North's navy isn't…a thing, basically.

There's also my morality to deal with. While not a die-hard Christian, I still had my beliefs and morality. I've been bending them to survive in the long-run. But if I did this, it would be by my own hand and that would break whatever sense of normalcy I've been clinging to.

Go figure that while my anxiety has been better (no doubt from Sansa's brain chemistry) my need to overanalyze is still intact. I guess habits die hard.

Still, I would need a plan for him soon. While Theon isn't the worst character, I can still recall the image of two burnt boys and his betrayal. At least Sansa didn't condemn me these thoughts. I imagine seeing the images that flashed in my mind was enough to persuade her. I still couldn't help but worry that my presence was doing more harm than good to her psyche.

Considering what may have happened without you, I would rather have you with me.

Her words were a balm to me. No matter what, at least Sansa had a better chance than what had been in store for her before. I kept that thought going as I played Come into my Castle with my siblings.

"Why do we have to go down here?" Little Bran whined. In truth, I wasn't sure why he came along. Both Sansa and I weren't particularly close to Bran compared to the others and I thought climbing was more his thing than exploring.

Nonetheless, when I started exploring Winterfell for hints about Old Ice (the books only hinted that it was still in the castle somewhere) Bran decided to join me after catching me sneak off.

"I've told you, no one's been down here in years. If we're going to find something, don't you think it would be somewhere people don't go near often?" Luckily he nodded. "Who knows what we may find? If we get lucky, there might be a secret room filled with treasure." I knew I was laying it on a bit thick, but the kid didn't exactly grow up with the stories I did and was willing to use to ideas from them ruthlessly. That said, I did wonder what he would make of Discworld. (I was still disappointed I didn't get to finish reading the series.)

We'd been at this for almost a week, going to lesser used areas, knocking, tapping, and looking for anything out of the ordinary. At the rate we were going, the castle would have been completely explored by the time Bobby B was supposed to make his appearance.

Tap. Tap.

No different sounds. I went to move a desk and tripped. Given that I hadn't tripped on air since coming to Winterfell, I looked down and inspected the cause of the fall.

At first I didn't see anything. Calling Bran over, we patted our grubby hands around the area. For a moment, I continued to think there was nothing, until Bran found a catch. We opened the hidden panel carefully, amazed by what was inside.

Varys exited the Small Council chambers with a calm demeanour. The King was happily absent, having gone on a hunt. Lord Arryn discussed various matters of the Kingdoms, most of which was monotonous, having discussed petty lords squabbling over their rights, their lands, and their neighbours.

That said, he was surprised by Lord Arryn's passing remark about Lord Stark. Apparently Lord Stark has been asking the King's bastard daughter. Lord Stannis had agreed to the idea of fostering her in the North and Arryn sent word to the girl's mother.

Still, such a move seemed to appear unexpectedly. His previous reports made no mention of Lord Stark having any Southern plans. Best to send a few more little birds to the North to understand better. After all, information was his trade and he needed to have all of the facts.

Once ensconced in his own chambers, he began to read reports. Apparently the bastard girl wasn't the only one going North. Lord Tarth's daughter seemed to be preparing to travel there. Varys shook his head as he moved to the next report. Still, he wondered how the daughter of a minor lord of the Stormlands was thought of to foster so far away. After all, there was no connection between the lords, such as with Baelish's fostering. Best to double the little birds flying North, he decided.

It was best to learn too much than not enough.

Lady Catelyn Stark was frustrated with her daughters. Not that this was uncommon. Indeed, most days she was frustrated with them. Arya was for too temperamental most days, often causing trouble with her septa. That was not surprising. No, the trouble she had with Sansa was more worrying.

Ever since the girl's fever, she had withdrawn more from her mother. Not only that, but she would become angry or upset at the oddest moments. When she had berated the bastard, for example, Sansa looked at her with an anger she had never seen upon her daughter's face before. Or the time was singing a song about helping outcasts. When Catelyn asked Sansa where she learned it, the girl became teary eyed and simply stated "from a story."

Then there was the sneaking off she did. True, it was usually during free moments, but she did it so often and returned grubby and covered in dust. And now she was dragging Bran along with her.

Her Lord Husband interrupted her thoughts when he entered, a simple, wonder-filled "Cat" on his lips.

She looked at him. Whatever the news was truly shocked him.

"Our daughter has been touched by the Old Gods." He had a wild look in his eyes. There was an energy there she had never seen in him before (though it did remind her of her dear departed Brandon.) "She has found something extraordinary Cat. Our daughter has found an Ice Dragon Egg."

So, yeah. No original Ice yet, but look-something even better! Yeah, when it comes to Theon, I know that I would have a conflicted interest. I'm not exactly devout, but my faith heavily influences my morality and I know it wouldn't survive Westeros for too long. That said, when a person is ripped away from everything they know, that person only has their belief system left and my SI wants to cling on to what she has.

I also realised that my SI hasn't spent any time with Bran, so exploring the castle would be a great bonding experience. Part of the reason he loves to climb is to explore and so it makes it a natural transition. Also, as the North is more isolated and Sansa is taking little steps, Varys is only hearing about what is going on with the bigger steps. (Also, like I was really going to keep Brienne from Arya? They are warrior besties for life and nothing can convince me otherwise.) I also disliked Bobby B's treatment of Mya and wanted to give her a better chance. Plus, Neddy is aware of and even played with baby Mya, so I could see her be mentioned in his stories about the Vale and Sansa wanting to meet her.

I will be blunt, I really dislike Lady Cat, but I can also understand her motivations. That said, I would not want her to be my mother and Sansa picks up on that. So my SI deals with her when needed, but spends much less time with her than in canon. As such, Cat can see the changes in her daughter and doesn't understand what has happened nor how to deal with it.

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Steampunkunicorn

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Steampunkunicorn

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#25

I couldn't believe it—dragon eggs! And they were here in Winterfell. I tried to recall any mention from the wiki, but if I remembered correctly, dragon eggs were mostly in Essos, Dragonstone, the Red Keep, and other such areas (I also might be mixing in fanon,) but there was never any indication of dragon eggs in the North.

Bran babbled all the way back to Neddy about the find. I tried to listen, but was too amazed to do so. Here I was, in Westeros with an actual dragon egg!

Sansa cooed over the patterns. We found three eggs, each in beautiful white and silver. They had different patterns (the one with swirls was my favorite.) One had hints of black here and there. The last was the plainest, mostly white with a few zig-zags of silver in the cracks of the texture. They were also cold to the touch. Perhaps they were ice dragons? Martin had written stories about them and there were legends here in Westeros.

We barged into Neddy's solar, slamming the door against the wall in our eagerness to open it.

"What the hel—" He cut himself off when he saw us standing there. We probably were a site, covered in dust and grime, huge smiles on our faces, holding bundle.

"Father, Lord Stark" I needed to be formal here. He had to know the seriousness of our visit. "For the last few weeks, I have felt the urge to explore the history of the North. During that time, my explorations compelled me to look within our own walls. Our history is vast and in that time, things that are important have been forgotten. This is one of them." Without further ado, I uncovered the eggs. They shone with an inner light that called out to us.

Ned walked around his desk and kneeled to take an egg, the plain one. He looked at it with such wonderment and then to me. "You were urged? Compelled? How?" His voice held a note I couldn't quite identify.

"Since my fever, father. After the fever, you may have noticed I have not been…" I trailed off, not wanting to lie, but also couldn't think of a believable way to admit I wasn't exactly Sansa.

To be fair, I think I am becoming more like you.

Luckily, I didn't have to lie. Neddy interrupted my musings with his own explanation. "Your fever…have you had any other changes?"

I nodded, understanding where this was going. It wouldn't be lying if I didn't claim it. "I've seen a possible future father. It was one filled with heartbreak and death. I saw wolves go south and die amongst lions, falcons fall. I saw the sea on Winterfell and the fall of the Wall. I saw a flaying snow and the Long Night."

I stopped there. What I said was fantastic enough, it was almost more than my father could bear. He hugged me tightly. I didn't want to let go. My little hands held tightly, feeling his chest through the fabric. That's odd, I didn't feel the scar on his chest. (What scar?) I could have sworn he had one. It was the reason daddy stopped picking me up when I was five. (Father picked me up last week.) How could he have though? His doctor prevented it because of the triple bypass. (I don't understand.) I don't understand.

Exhausted from the day's events, I pass out in my father's arms.

Arya knew something had changed in her sister. And whatever it was began affecting everyone else.

Mother was fretting more these days (at least it was less about her now.) Father was calling his lords. She had heard her brothers complain about how they were going to be overwhelmed by girls, with the fosterings Father mentioned. Then there was Bran. Ever since she started her dancing lessons, Bran had been following Sansa around and been appearing in the oddest places.

When asked, Bran told her he was looking for dragon eggs. She called him stupid and told him to try looking South. But that didn't stop the whispers. She heard servants talking in hushed tones about dragons and the Old Gods and visions. She wanted answers, but every time she was caught listening, the servants would stop talking. Father only told her that she would find out the truth soon and even Theon had no idea what was happening.

Frustrated, Arya looked for Sansa. Sansa hadn't been in sewing lessons for the last week and she missed her sister. She had been telling Arya a wonderful story about a world for children, with Ibbenese and pirates to battle, and the leader of a group of Lost Boys and a creature that granted flight. Arya wanted to hear more, or at least play with her and Robb and Jon.

Arya caught a flash of red hair in an ever-present braid and chased after it. "Sansa!" she cried, catching up to her taller sister.

Sansa turned towards her and smiled. "There you are! I've been looking for you. I have news." Sansa pulled her towards her room. Sansa's room was more cluttered than she remembered. There were three piles of books scattered around the room, as well as sketches of odd things. Ribbons covered a stool near Sansa's vanity and pins were scattered.

Mother would be angry at the clutter.

Sansa didn't notice the mess, though. Instead, she guided Arya to her bed and they sat down on the edge.

Arya obligingly turned and allowed Sansa to undo her messy braid. As she worked nimbly with Arya's hair, she began to talk. "Since Robb and Jon have been joining us with sewing, I asked Father why we couldn't learn to fight. He tried saying that ladies shouldn't need to learn, but I argued with him. I mentioned Aunt Lyanna wanting to learn. Perhaps she could have defended herself from that mean prince that kidnapped her then. Father became sad, but agreed to let us learn." Sansa grabbed a ribbon to tie Arya's much neater braid, but Arya was too shocked. She stood up in disbelief.

"Careful now. Oh no, your braid's come undone."

"We can actually learn? I can use a sword?" Arya couldn't keep the amazement out of her voice. Surely it couldn't have been that simple for Father to agree. She had been begging for over a year and Father had not even considered the idea.

"We can, but not yet." Sansa stated simply and began to redo the braid. "Father has arranged for one of Lady Mormont's daughters to teach us. She's a few years older, had more practice, and is better suited to teach a girl than our Master-at-arms. She'll come with her mother when all the lords arrive."

"Do you know why they're arriving?" As thrilled as Arya was at the prospect of meeting a woman who would teach her to fight, the mystery would not go away.

Sansa smiled at the braid, turned Arya to face her, and took her hands. "I do. Recently, something has been found within the walls of Winterfell that is important for the kingdom. Father is trying to follow proper procedure by sending a note to the King and summoning his Lords to show them what has been found."

"Is it dragons?" Arya blurted out. As unlikely as it was, it was the first thing that popped into her head. Bran's remarks, the servants' whispers, it was possible.

"Dragon eggs. Come on, I'll show you." With a smile, Sansa tugged Arya out of her chambers and towards Father's solar.

"My Lord, we need to talk." Ned could hear the terseness in his Lady Wife's tone. He wondered if was due to the arrangement for the incoming Lords, frustrations with their daughters, or perhaps her wanting him to send Jon away (again.)

"Of course, my lady. Shall we go to my solar?" Lord Eddard took his wife's arm and escorted her to the solar. As they reached it, giggling pitter-patters could be heard rushing off. Once inside, they sat across from one another. "Now, what is this about? Do you need help with making the arrangements for our Lords?"

Lady Catelyn frowned. "No, I am perfectly capable of taking care of such arrangements. It is another matter I wished to speak to you about." Ned, curious, motioned for her to continue. "Amongst the arrangements, I have made sure to secure a proper chamber for the girls we are to be fostering. However, I was recently given to understand that one of them is a bastard."

Lord Eddard held back a sigh. He had hoped Catelyn would not be as angry with Mya's fostering, given that she was not his, but perhaps he was wrong.

"Mya is a sweet girl that happens to be a bastard. I remember her being a kind child when Robert would visit her. When I told the girls about my time fostering, I mentioned her. Sansa asked if they could meet. I looked into her current situation and decided to arrange fostering for her as the daughter of my dear friend."

Lady Catelyn pursed her lips. "Are we to hold every bastard in the Seven Kingdoms? It is bad enough you shame me daily with your mistake, but now we are to hold others' mistakes in our care?"

"Jon is my blood! He will not inherit Winterfell, but he is still my blood. He is mine as much as Robb, Sansa, Arya, and Bran are. I had hoped you would grow to accept him. He shall one day have his own keep and be a loyal bannerman to Robb." Ned did his best to keep calm, but he heard Lyanna's "Promise Me" as he spoke. While not apparent, he did have wolf blood in his veins.

"He may be your son, but he is an abomination. He is an affront to the eyes of the Gods!" He could see the hurt in her eyes, the betrayal she felt towards him. It had festered in the time of his marriage. He wanted very much to comfort her and tell her the truth, but there would be a larger focus on Winterfell in the coming years, especially if even half of what Sansa had said would come to pass. No one could know, there would be too much at stake, too much to lose. Promise me, Ned.

He would have to keep it secret, even from her. He would have to put the North first. He had to prepare for the Long Night.

Okay, so we have Neddy's reaction to the eggs. I also gave hints that the bonding and merging is happening. IRL, my parents were in their forties when they had me and my dad had a heart attack when I was five years old. (His father died about the same age from heart issues, as well as his grandfather, so it was a very serious time that forever shaped my interactions with my dad.) I also didn't want to outright lie to Neddy. My SI is already feeling guilty about being an imposter, so Ned filling in the blanks is a compromise to her. Arya is still very young and only knows so much. She's a little more in the loop than the rest of the North, but not by much. Also, she has come to appreciate the changes her sister has presented, both within and around her (plus more sisterly bonding!)

I also included the scene between Lady Cat and Neddy because as much as I love Mya, Lady Cat would definitely have issues with another bastard in the house. There is also a major struggle within Ned. At this point, he feels that he could possibly trust his wife, but her bitterness gives him doubt. (Not saying I agree with it, but it is very much within his character.) Between the dragon eggs and Sansa's "vision" Ned has to prepare and think long-term, which has been a problem in the past for him.

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#33

"And so, Wendy waited every year for Petyr to return to take her back to Neverland. But as she got older, she spent less and less time at her window, waiting. She grew up, married, and had children of her own. She told them of her adventures, as well as the lessons she learned. Most of all, she told them to keep an eye on the star, second to the right. From it, great adventures could await.

"And such was her life. That is, until one night, when she heard a faint crying. Thinking it was her daughter, Jeyne, she crept into the room. What greeted her was the sight of a crying Petyr. She walked over to him and asked 'Boy, why are you crying?'"

"Just like at the beginning…" I heard little Beth say.

"Petyr looked up and saw a grown Wendy. He told her that he was crying because he thought she had left. 'No, only grown up.'

"'Why did you have to grow up?' Petyr asked. Wendy told him she tried not to, but it couldn't be helped. At that moment, Jeyne woke and saw Petyr. 'I know you.' She said. 'Mother's told me all about you. Are you here to give me adventures too?'"

"What did he say?" Robb asked, entirely entranced by my storytelling.

"Petyr looked at Wendy, who agreed that Jeyne could go, as long as she was returned at a reasonable time. And so, he bid farewell to his Wendy bird and took Jeyne to her own story. Meanwhile, Wendy looked up to the sky, watching her child disappear into the night. She knew Jeyne would return home eventually and grow up. She would be reminded how all children could grow up, except one."

"I think Wendy should have gone too." Arya stated.

"But she grew up. Only Ibbenese and pirates could be grown in Neverland." Robb interjected.

"So she could become Red Handed Jill, like the story Wendy told. She could defeat Hook and become a lady pirate." I suddenly hoped that I hadn't led to the story of Arya Redhand, Lady Pirate of the Narrow Sea and the Stepstones.

"She could have gone, yes." I admitted. Sansa and I both knew we would have to be careful in our argument. "But what about her husband? Or her other children? Or the servants? Or any of the other people that depended upon her? She knew she had responsibilities and chose to put those first." Arya frowned at me. I could see that it was working but she wasn't happy about it. "And who knows? Perhaps after her children are grown and her eldest son is married, she and her husband could go and have their own seaworthy adventures." I ruffled her hair and was given a small smile in return. The group broke up as the old biddy told us our work was done for the day.

Wanting to get some horse riding in before my next lesson, I packed my things and hurried to the door. I then, quite literally, ran into Theon Greyjoy. I stumbled and fell on my dignity, yeah that. "What are you doing here?" I heard Robb ask as he helped me up.

"I was hoping for a spar, only to find out you'd rather be a girl." He puffed himself up as he said that.

"You were listening to the story, weren't you?" I observed. Going by his sputtering, I was right. "You know, you are welcome to sit in and listen if you want."

Theon gave me a look of disbelief. Hadn't he been included in other family gatherings? Not really.

"I mean it. We won't even make you sew. Wouldn't want you to go against your words." I smirked a little at my own pun. "Besides, I'll be starting a new story tomorrow about wooden boy and his father and a cricket." Disney never fails, at least.

Theon agreed and left with Robb and Jon to spar.

"Do you really think Wendy's husband would go on adventures with her?" Arya asked me.

"Of course. He loves her and wants an equal partnership with Wendy. Like he'd really stay behind while she got all the fun." I told her, knowing what would be next.

Arya looked at me with trepidation. "No, I mean, would he let her go at all?"

I pulled her close as we walked to the stables. "Wendy was incredibly lucky. She got to marry a man that loved her and saw her as more than just a Lady. He saw the adventurer in her and was told up front that she expected to have more adventures. He agreed to go on any adventures she had and promised not to stop her. Not every marriage is like that. Not every couple is like that. I only hope that we could find such for ourselves. Who knows? Perhaps we can find you a husband that would rather be the Lady and you the Lord." I teased her. Arya just wrinkled her nose at the idea. We burst out laughing until we reached the stables.

"Aaaalliiii" I heard my mom yell.

I groaned and cursed under my breath. I waited for her to yell again. No voice came. That's right, I'm in Winterfell, not the home my mom bought after dad died.

And that was just a dream.

A person would think after two months in Winterfell in the body of a kid, I would stop having those moments of confusion. No, despite all of my problems, I would give anything to be home. I miss cheering my mom up, arguing with my sister, cuddling with my dogs, and binging miniseries and TV shows. I wonder if my mom visited my dad's grave recently. I wonder if she ran into my ex's parents. If she did, maybe they could commiserate about how to deal when a beloved progeny is gone.

I wonder if she even knows I'm gone. Am I even gone? Or am I just a copy dumped into the wrong body, in the wrong world. Why couldn't I have any answers? What good could I do compared to anyone else? Why did I have to be separated from everything I know and love?

But…

Winterfell was starting to be home to me. I'm starting to see Jon and Robb and Arya and Bran as my own siblings. I even started to feel like I'm Sansa at points. When I first woke up here, we were two completely separate programs sharing the same memory space. Now, are we combining?

I wish I knew. I turn and curl into the fur, wanting to escape this place, if only in my dreams.

Jon watched as the first of the Lords of the North arrived. More would be following within the week. Traditionally, the further away Lords would travel first, so as to not burden the stores. One day, he would be among them. Father had sat him down a month before, when the dragon eggs were first found, and told Jon that he could have a keep when he was grown or be apprenticed or become a squire.

Jon had been quite surprised. Apparently Lord Stark had assumed Jon had known his options and informed him that he was of an age to begin deciding what he would do with his life. Jon knew he wanted a keep more than anything. He could start a cadet branch of the family, even marry respectably. He knew Greyjoy often talked about the pleasures of a woman and Jon hoped to experience it one day.

His dreams of a keep and children were interrupted by a lusty laugh. Though quite recent, Mya Stone and her laugh became a permanent fixture in Winterfell. She was tall with lovely blue eyes and made his sisters giggle in delight with her more interesting tales. She also enjoyed Sansa's stories during sewing lessons. She was also bold and brash at times. Jon couldn't think of anyone more perfect.

"There you are, Snow." Mya said matter-of-factly.

"We were looking for you." There's Sansa, right at her side. The duo did make quite the pair. In looks and apparel, they differed like night and day, but they ran circles around Jon with their wits and creative barbs.

"What did you want Stone?" Jon fired back. "And you, Sansa?"

"With the influx of Lords coming, we need to find Mya a good husband." Sansa said simply. "We were hoping you'd agree to test them for us."

"And I was hoping you'd tell her I don't need to find a husband here in the North. My Mychel and me plan to marry as soon as he becomes knighted." Mya stated, unknowing of how those simple words cracked his heart.

"That'll be years away though. You told me he hasn't begun his squiring yet. Besides, you might find someone you like better in the meantime." Sansa argued back.

"You just want to keep your new best friend here." Jon grinned teasingly at Sansa.

Sansa rolled her eyes and dragged the two back to the window to view the Lord's procession.

"You did well, my lady." Lord Stark informed Catelyn.

"Thank you my lord." Catelyn replied back. She wanted nothing more than to kiss away the cold politeness that graced her husband's face, but she knew better. While they had reconciled since their argument, things were not back to normal between them yet.

Oh, how she cursed herself for her foolish words. Words were wind, spoken before they could be held back. But they still brought rain. She just had to wait for it to dry.

"I expect the next party of Lords to arrive tomorrow or the day after. I trust you will be able to handle Lord Bolton, given his indiscretions?" He meant a bastard, Catelyn knew. As it turned out, the King's bastard was a sweet, if brash girl. She was a bit rough, but was kind and meant well. As if Catelyn wasn't feeling enough regret.

Still, her husband asked it of her kindly, not as a way to revisit the argument. "I shall. Are we expecting his indiscretion as well?" The question was neutral, but could become loaded anyway.

"No, he is not expected. Nor is Lord Bolton's other son Domeric. From what I gather, he is fostering in the Vale." Oh, how she wanted to understand Ned's thoughts. He looked troubled, but was it from the eggs? Or perhaps Lord Bolton's presence? Or something else?

"Very well, I will arrange the rooms accordingly." With a curtsy, Catelyn departed from her husband. She went to check on Lady Umber to ensure the accommodations were suitable.

The Lady in question was escorting her daughters to a sewing lesson when she arrived. The two discussed the arrangements as they walked, as well as a bit of gossiping. Catelyn felt a pang of sadness, recalling the days she and Lysa would gossip, creating more and more unbelievable stories, usually with Petyr egging them on.

"And so, Ana raced across the ice, her freezing heart making her struggle with every breath. She had to reach Kristoff, so he could use True Love's Kiss to save her. But, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Prince Hans approach her sister with his great sword. Oh, hello mother, Lady Umber." Sansa immediately curtsied. Arya and the other girls followed. Robb and the bas-Jon bowed at the ladies.

"Hello sweetling. I believe you were supposed to be sewing." Lady Catelyn raised her eyebrow, a teasing glint in her eye.

"Of course, Mother. But there is no reason not to enjoy a story while we work, is there not?"

"I suppose you are right. However, I don't believe I'm familiar with this story." Catelyn sat in an available chair, Lady Umber and her daughters following suit.

"Tis a wonderful story my lady." Mya Stone stated, bold as brass. "Its about these sisters, separated by a magic hidden and the younger sister is in danger and there's a snow beast and an evil prince."

"This does sound lovely. I do believe you were at a rather exciting part from what we heard. Please continue and we shall get to work." Lady Catelyn pick up a half-finished set of trousers and worked on them as she listened to her daughter.

Sansa, flushed with pride from the beaming looks Catelyn gave her, continued "And so, Princess Ana had to choose, for Kristoff and her sister were on opposite ends. The snow flurried even faster before dying away. On the ice, preventing the sword from hurting Queen Elsa, was a statue in the shape of her sister. Realizing at once that the statue was her sister, the Queen broke down and hugged her icy sister, begging for her to return…"

So, we have a little nudging from my SI to make sure Arya is happy, as well as a bad day for her. Just because she's adjusting, it doesn't mean she's completely okay. She has lingering depression and it does pop up on occasion.

Also, Jon has a cru-ush, I don't think Neddy ever told Jon his options in canon. At least, Jon didn't think they were possible. He saw the Wall as his only option. Sansa's earlier questions to Luwin paved the way for more than sewing with her brothers and fighting lessons. While Jon may still end up at the Wall, right now he sees more possibilities.

I'll admit, this chapter was a pain to write, so I wanted to end it on a good note. I felt that a Lady Cat pov was a good way to do so. Admittedly, I did make her more hostile than her canon counterpart, but it was a moment of passionate anger and she is trying. (Whether she accepts Jon is a whole other story, but she won't be as outwardly cruel to him and bastards in general.) I also wanted to show a bit of mother-daughter bonding and Sansa's storytelling seemed a good way.

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#38

I admit, I was ready for the lords to leave. Despite Sansa's nature, I was an introvert and needed some quiet time. The only place I could find it? The tombs.

It wasn't as freaky as I thought it would be. Given the gravitas the descriptions contained, I feared entering when I first arrived. Not even four months later, I'd been driven there. I wandered down the tombs, taking in Sansa's ancestors. It just reminded me all the more how inadequate my work would be. These men were worthy of remembrance. They lived up to the previous generation and forged their own stories. Even Lyanna, the wild and beautiful Knight of the Smiling Tree and the girl who became a Helen of Troy, had been great in her own way. What was my family history? The founder of a pro-Confederate county during the Civil War, relatives in two different blood feuds, and (according to my Nanny) descended from a Native American Princess. Hardly the stuff of legends.

That said, it was also a bit of a relief. Despite my time here, I wasn't Sansa. I didn't have to have her legacy. The dragon eggs and my warnings could be all that was needed. I could give Sansa a good home with a not idiotic husband and wonderful red-headed children with an addiction to lemon pastries. I couldn't help but think of how much that dream resembled my own. I was at the height of my baby fever and not in a position to have one. Now, I had at least another decade to wait here.

I talked to Lyanna's statue about all of this. I felt like out of all the tombs, hers was the most understanding. She had been a troublesome figure to me when I read and binged the series, but at the moment, she was a comfort. I rested under her statue as I enjoyed the peace of my surroundings.

"All right, now I need you to look at this list for the tables." Lady Cat looked down at me. I could feel Sansa's trepidation as she wanted to impress Lady Cat. Though I didn't care for her mother, when the woman actually acted like a mother, teaching practical things like setting a table and running Winterfell, I could see why she looked up to the woman. She did have her good points (as grudgingly as I'll admit.)

"We need more ale for the tables. There are more courses than last night, but the same amount of drink." I stated attentively. I hoped I was right. I didn't care for fools and didn't like to be one.

"That's right. Now, how much more ale do we need per table?" Lady Cat kneeled down to my eye level to make sure I was understanding everything.

"Given that there are two extra courses, a barrel per table?" I guessed.

"Normally you would be wrong, as Northmen tend to drink a barrel per three courses. However, the tables will be overly packed tonight, so you are technically correct." Lady Cat reprimanded me gently. At least I was correct this time, but I'll need to remember that for the future. (Or, at least Sansa will.)

"I think we've done enough for now. As this is an overview, not much else needs to be done by us at this point. Have you any lessons soon?" Lady Cat stood back up and handed the plan over to a nearby servant—Janna, I think.

"I have a private lesson with Maester Luwin soon, but nothing at the present, Mother." I stated courteously.

"Excellent. The Mormonts have had a special interest in meeting you. I believe your Father mentioned the daughter staying on at Winterfell after Lady Mormont returns home. Perhaps you should get to know her, like you have with Mya." Subtle, Lady Cat is not. She knew how important the Mormonts were compared to Mya and hoped I would prefer a Lady over her. Still, Dacey would be teaching me and Arya, so I agreed to find the mother and daughter and get to know them.

Lord Arryn sighed as he heard Varys drone on about the troubles between the Reach and the Dornish, only to state at the end that the Tyrells had it all under control. A Small Council meeting without hearing such a thing is like a rainy day in the desert—not impossible, but not likely at any point.

"Very well Varys. Anything else of interest?" Arryn asked the room at large.

"The King has received a raven from Winterfell, my lord." Pycelle's shaking hand held the note. No doubt it had already been read, given the gleam of interest in the doddering man's eye.

"Thank you." Lord Arryn took the note, hoping it to simply be an update on Mya's condition. Of course, nothing is ever so simple. "It appears dragon eggs have been discovered in Winterfell." Lord Arryn scarcely heard the clamor of the Small Council due to the shock. Such a thing had never even been imagined, let alone thought possible.

After a moment, Lord Arryn quieted the Council. "Now, the King must be informed about this at once. No doubt he will wish to write to Lord Stark about the matter himself. If there is no other news, the Small Council is dismissed." Jon was dreading the King's reaction. While he loved Lord Stark, it was a question of whether he hated dragons more.

Maester Luwin had come to enjoy his lessons with young Sansa. She had a keen intellect and thought critically with a skill he had rarely seen outside of Oldtown. Admittedly, their lessons gradually began to greatly differ from those with her siblings, but as she was being taught everything else she needed to know as a lady of her station from others, their private tuition could veer off and contain more freedom than generally allowed.

"Now, the last entry of Ice from before the weapon was granted to the Starks is from forty years before. It mentions that Ice was held in the Family House. Now, since there isn't a building with that name in Winterfell, it was either destroyed or renamed or forgotten." Maester Luwin informed his young pupil.

"There was an entry about the Family House somewhere…" Sansa looked around for the tome. Quickly spotting the old book, she gently grabbed it, brought it over and began to turn the pages. "I thought it was referring to Winterfell, itself, but your entry specified it as a separate entity. Here!" Sansa proudly pointed at the reference. "It's dated only ten years before. It says that the Family House was to be rebuilt at the top, as a fire had spread. It specifies that the Family History was preserved. That has to be some type of hint." Sansa looked so eager.

"I'm not entirely sure how it could be. It could mean that there were surviving members of the Stark family." Luwin argued. They would need more evidence to form a theory.

"It could also be referring to important historical artifacts of the family. I can't read anymore of the book, it's too faded." Sansa pouted at that, reminding Luwin that despite her intelligence, she was still a young girl.

"I will send a raven to the Citadel, asking if they have a copy of the book." Luwin informed her.

"But that could take months." There was a small whine in her voice. "Yes, but this is our only copy and we need the information. Now, we've made great strides, but books do not grow on trees. We will spend the time we have to find other references to the location and what might be contained."

"Why are books so rare?" If Maester Luwin had not gotten used to such a tone regularly used to begin debating whatever idea Sansa had, he would have thought the question perfectly innocent.

"It is a very complicated procedure to bind a book and to have it scribed. Some Maesters spend their entire lives restoring and scribing books." Luwin informed her, waiting to hear whatever idea she fancied.

"Why is it scribed by hand? Surely there is an easier way? Why, just the other day, I saw Father use his ring to press his seal for a letter. Could not the same principle be applied to words?" An interesting notion, thought Luwin.

"I'm not quite sure if such a thing would be applicable. I will look into it, though. Now, have you found any books on Ice Dragon Lore? I will admit, I've not had the best luck, as such a book would not have been important to the day-to-day running of Winterfell before."

"I have not. However, my latest letter to Uncle Benjen has a note for their Maester. Perhaps they have such books?"

"Very well. I do believe that finishes the research portion of our lesson. Now, please list the Houses serving under the Manderlys."

Dacey Mormont had been surprised when Lord Stark summoned his Lords. She had been even more surprised when Lord Stark specifically asked for her to come and teach his daughters to fight. She was less surprised than the other ladies at the unconventional arrangement for their lessons (after all, on Bear Island, it didn't matter if you were Lord, Lady, or peasant, skills were needed and work had to be done.) Still, her gift from Lady Sansa surprised her the most.

"Tis beautiful, my lady." And indeed, the sword was. Long and thin, but thicker than a Water Dancer's sword. It was also high quality steel, with a beautiful pommel in the shape of a bear. Though not gilded, the quality still shone through the material.

"I am glad to hear that. As I hope it will be the type of sword Arya and I will predominantly use, I thought it best you should practice with it between teaching Arya and me the basics." The girl positively beamed. "We are quite small and skinny. I suppose our swords will match us that way.' There was a teasing grin as the girl finished.

"Aye, but for right now, we'll work on your footing and building your strength. Get your sister and meet me in the courtyard." Sheathing the sword, Dacey turned to change into her sparring clothes. All that nonsense her mother said about needing her pretty gowns was going to be useless after all (at least, outside of feasts.) After all, that Stone girl went around in leathers and short hair. Obviously, Lady Stark's Southern Ways weren't as deep as rumour had suggested.

So, here we get a little into the differences between my SI and Sansa, as well as how they compromise at parts. I also wanted to show the parts about Lady Cat that Sansa does admire. She is a proper lady and has managed Winterfell successfully for a number of years. With Sansa improving in her sums, I imagine she would want even more to impress her Lady Mother. As for the distribution of ale, barrels are frickin' huge and the North drinks well. So, I guestimated how much Lady Stark averaged for the Lords. She wanted them to have enough to wash down their food, but not enough to cause a riot. Also, I bet Lord Arryn wishes he could drink that much before dealing with Bobby B.

I also really enjoyed writing the Luwin section. He's probably as fascinated by the research as my SI is and is getting used to the subtle pushing and prodding done. As for Dacey, I thought as she would be having a lot of interaction with Sansa and Arya, it would be a good idea to see her first impressions, as well as getting the outside of Winterfell perspective that was still in the North.

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May 31, 2018

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#49

I savored the small cup of wine. Ah, sweet alcohol, how I've missed thee. It was a lovely balm for my nerves. Lady Cat hadn't been joking about the tables being packed. I do believe that was what was meant by a crush in Jane Austen's day. The Lords were rowdy and laughing and enjoying the hard work put into the meal.

Sansa loved every bit of it.

I managed to snag a lemon cake as the food was being passed around. I could see why they were Sansa's favorite. Though not as sweet as my preferred lemon squares, they had a perfect amount of tartness to them. The buttery crust was divine. I had to keep from swallowing it whole.

Neddy stood up to quiet the lords.

"Now, as most of the children have been sent to bed," that got me more than one look "it is time for us to discuss the reason for my summoning you all to Winterfell." Complete silence. The lords were a lot more respectful to Neddy than they were to Robb (or they at least wanted to appear so.) "Some weeks ago, my eldest daughter caught fever and was forced to remain abed. At the time, we thought it no more than a common sickness, but we were soon proven wrong. My daughter Sansa" more eyes on me now "was given a vision by the Old Gods. They warn of dangers to the South. They warn of wars and peril. They warn of the Long Night."

I'd give Neddy this, he knew how to speak dramatically when the time came. Guess the choice for Sean Bean wasn't too far off the mark. Still, the Northmen yelled and protested. To be fair, the idea of the Others being more than just legend was a hard one to swallow from their perspectives. We would need to prove it to them, hopefully before it was too late. Neddy gave them a hard stare and waited. God, he had a terrifying stare.

"What proof do you have, my lord? Aside from a girl's tales?" Lord Karstark boomed above the crowd.

"Aye, we've heard of her talent for storytelling." Lord Glover piped up.

"I understand, my lords. I would likely not believe it either, had I not been presented with this." He motioned to Jory Cassel to bring forth the eggs. "Sansa has uncovered Ice Dragon Eggs."

The eggs seemed to glow brighter amongst the crowd. The swirled one that I loved the most was positively glowing.

"Are they really Ice Dragons?" Lord Flint asked.

"Aye, you know the legends. Ice dragons were said to be used by House Stark to unite the North against the Long Night. Like we would really see those Southern Dragons leaving their eggs here!" A lord I did not recognize stated.

"Thank you, Lord Writston. Indeed, if anyone can confirm they be Ice Dragon Eggs, it would be the Lord of Northern Legends." Ned stated, as though they had planned the exchange. I racked mine and Sansa's memory for this lord. The Writstons were a cadet branch of the Starks, going back thousands of years. It was their duty to record the legends and history of the North. The holding was a rather minor one and so did not pop up in our thoughts before.

Lord Writston walked up to Neddy and picked up one of the eggs. The entire hall stood in hushed silence as we waited. The lord carefully inspected the plain egg. He stroked the shell, feeling the almost imperceptible scales. He held it to the light and saw how it reflected the silver against the light.

Finally, he spoke "Aye, my lords. It is my belief that this is an ice dragon egg. Tis cold to the touch, has a smoother texture than the Targaeryans' eggs, and shines like ice. I imagine they were left after the Age of Heroes when the ice dragons began disappearing." With that, Lord Writston returned to his table.

Neddy then went full Lord Stark mode. "Aye, you now have your proof. Surely the Old Gods gave Sansa her visions to warn us and to be prepared for what may lie ahead. We need to be united and strong if we are to survive what may be coming. So, I ask my Lords and Ladies to search their homes, search their lands. Find any information you can regarding the Long Night, the Others, and Ice Dragons."

Robert Baratheon laughed. He couldn't help it. The idea that Ned might have uncovered such a thing was hilarious.

"Your Grace, I am afraid this is not a laughing matter." Jon Arryn stated seriously. If the man wasn't running the Seven Kingdoms for him, he would have been annoyed at the tone.

"The dragons killed Ned's father and brother, and stole my Lyanna away from me. Ned's discovered three dragon eggs in Winterfell. How is that not funny? About time those fucking dragons tried to do something other than destroy lives." Great, now he was feeling like he'd talked to Cersei. Better fix that with a drink.

"As you say, Your Grace." Jon sighed and gave him that put upon look that he gave Robert when he didn't come to the right answer in his lessons.

"Alright, what is it?" Robert hated games. Why couldn't everything be as straightforward as war?

"It is only that the value of a dragon egg is well-known. Perhaps one of the eggs could be given to the Crown as a gift? It would help the treasury a great deal." Counting coppers? Did the man ever let him hear the end of it? Though, that did give him an idea…

"Fine, fine. We'll go North to see Ned's eggs and you can convince him to hand his treasure away." With that Robert finished his cup and went to tell his loving wife.

Dacey paced us hard. She was able to fix our foot work and put us through the motions fairly well.

"No, you'll trip over yourself doing that." I heard her scold Arya.

"But that's how Robb and Jon and Theon do it."

"Are you as tall or as broad as Robb or Jon or Theon? No, you're a skinny runt and that can be used to your advantage. Now, pull your feet in this way." Dacey gently corrected Arya.

To be fair, she was still doing a better job than me.

"Does the rapier I gifted you work well?" I asked as she modeled a basic movement.

"Aye. I'm more comfortable with a mace, but your skinny sword is fun to practice with." Dacey informed me as she fixed my posture.

"Will we get to learn to use a mace?" Arya piped up.

"Aye, as well as other weapons, but not until you get the basics down." Dacey sent a look to her footwork, which Arya quickly corrected.

We continued as such for another hour. Arya had never been happier.

As I lay in bed that night, I realized I was becoming content with this life.

Lady Catelyn entered her husband's chambers with trepidation. Though they were not yet back on dry land, she missed him. She missed his gentle ways and his warm looks. She missed his kisses and his bed. She knew she had to be the one to try to bridge the gap.

She might very well end her marriage instead.

"Good evening, my lady." He greeted her, slight surprise in his voice.

"Good evening, my lord." Lady Catelyn removed her robe to show off Sansa's creation. It was a dress, though one made of rather thin fabric. It had a high waistline and short sleeves. There was a pattern of fish on the bottom of the skirt and a rich blue color that enhanced Catelyn's natural beauty.

"What is this?" He asked, voice giving nothing away.

"It is something Sansa made me. Do you like it?"

"Tis lovely. What a shame it is wasted here in the North, where most would freeze in such a thing." Ned looked back down at his reports.

"Yes, it can be wasted. But, worn in Winterfell, where we are kept warm, I imagine there to be uses for it." Catelyn moved closer to her husband, moving in such a way that highlighted her figure.

Ned refused to look up.

"My lord, I know that what I have said is wrong. Jon is your son." Ned stiffened but still did not look up. "It was wrong of me to use such cruel language when he has been nothing but a brother to my children. While I cannot promise to love him, I will do my best to treat him kinder."

"Thank you Cat. I know his being here has not been easy for you, but I promised his mother I would do the best I could for him." Ned took her hand and squeezed it.

"I understand, my lord. You do your best to be honourable." Cat used every bit of restraint she had to keep from sounding bitter. They were finally returning to normal.

"I do try, my lady." Ned said it with such sincerity, Catelyn wanted to climb into his arms and never let go.

"Do you think you would help me remove my new dress? I'm not as familiar with how to remove it as my other dresses." Catelyn gave her husband a hopeful look.

"Aye, we shall return to your chambers and get you out of this odd dress." And they left for her chambers, hand in hand.

And now the lords will be on their way home. My poor introverted SI will be happy to return to routine (at least for now.) I know a lot of people were expecting Bobby B to get angry, but these are just eggs. Worth a lot of money, but otherwise harmless for now. Also, in the books Bobby B couldn't bring himself to destroy the dragon bones, so I don't think he would want to destroy the eggs either. Sansa and Arya have begun their training. I also wanted to let you know the sword is a rapier. Dacey, however doesn't know that and compares it to the only weapon she can think of. (Also, my SI has romanticized fencing as being effective from media representation.)

Finally, the argument between Neddy and Lady Cat is settled and thy are getting back to making Rickon. They've been fighting for over a month now in the story and want the argument to end. Cat has been trying to make amends, and is genuinely liking Mya and Ned has seen that. Also, here's a link for the kind of dress I was imagining: listing/252687987/edwardian-dress-with-train-navy-regency

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May 31, 2018

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#57

As the Lords left, a few asked me questions, wanting to know what I had seen. I answered most of them with talk of the Long Night, the distractions of the South, and such. Only two lords were answered differently.

"Lord Reed," I curtsied graciously. "What can I do for you?"

I had not known what to expect with Reed. I knew he would be considered on the smaller side, as well as having eyes the color of moss. I also knew he was the only other survivor of the Tower of Joy. Appearance-wise, he was much like the books described his folk. His eyes were bigger than a normal person's though, and his skin was a darker shade than you would normally find in the North. He also had an impetuous but stately air. Overall, I had no idea how to assess him.

"I wanted to ask how something my lady." He gave me an understanding look. "My line has a history of Greenseeing in it. I believe my son also possesses the gift. As such, I am familiar with the ability." He looked deeply into my eyes, wanting to see something that may have lain behind. "One of the first rules learnt is that the future cannot be changed. Yet, I have heard from those with the ability that their visions have changed. My son…" Lord Reed broke off at that point.

I understood why. Jojen's death might have changed. I felt a pang of sympathy for thee man in front of me. He knew that his son would die early and it could not have been changed. And yet, have I changed it?

"Lord Reed, from what I have learned about Greenseeing, I do not believe my vision was such. What I saw…" He looked at me with wonder-filled eyes. "It was a life we might have lived. I saw how Westeros would be destroyed from within, leaving it unable to defend against the Others. I saw truths that are better hidden for now. I saw deaths that could be avoided. I saw the future, but also how the past may affect it. That is my vision." At this, Lord Reed bowed and ran off. No doubt my hints might have shaken the man, but I felt that he could be trusted.

The other Lord was a different matter.

"Lord Bolton, I trust you are well?" Oh, how I wanted to claw his pale, sunken face. I wanted to destroy him and his House and salt the earth, all the while dancing a lovely ballet routine.

"Thank you, Lady Sansa. I am." Leech Lord whispered. "I wanted to ask about your vision… Lord Stark made mention of my house being involved in some manner?"

This was the perfect ammunition. I gave my best worried look. "Yes Lord Bolton. I'm afraid it involves your son."

"Is Domeric in danger?" Damn, the man actually was worried. I guess his son really was the perfect heir.

"In a way. But, it is who endangers him that affects the vision, for the man will go on to destroy your House wholly." I spoke with careful sadness and despair. After all, as far as Sansa is taught, Bolton had been a loyal house and only second to the Starks.

Leech Lord grabbed my hand. "Who will it be, Lady Sansa? I must protect my family." His voice actually rose a little. He must have genuinely been upset.

"There are two men. Each one side of the same coin. One is a proud lord, with ambitions that lead him to commit the gravest crimes—betrayal of his King, conspiring with the enemy, and allowing crimes too barbaric for the rest of the land." Lord Bolton had no reaction, save for a flicker in his eyes. "The other, his son. A baseborn boy that lacks his father's restraint. The boy will grow jealous and cruel. He will make sport of death and become a kinslayer. He will kill every member of his family, from brother to father to babe. And it will only end in his death." I curtsied and left him in his thoughts.

That night, I had Sansa's nightmares of Ramsey's imagined cruelty.

I was happy to settle back into routine. I would wake, dress, break my fast, attend sewing lessons with my siblings and tell stories. After, Arya and I would practice with Dacey (sometimes having Mya join us.) This would be followed by a luncheon and research with Luwin. I had less free time than before, but I still managed to find time to allow Sansa play time. Fighting was sometimes alternated with the harp or dancing, so as to allow Lady Cat the illusion that her daughters were perfect little ladies.

Lady Cat was often busy with refilling the stores, checking the budgets, and making up with Neddy (and to think, I never thought my obsession with 19th century literature and their various adaptions would come in handy.) I was surprised to find myself missing her, not just Sansa doing so. Lady Cat was growing on me. She would never be my mother. But she is still my mother.

I had even managed to find a book on Ice Dragons. Admittedly, it was more about the tales of their greatness than any useful information, but it was a starting point.

"Sansa! Sansa!" I heard Bran and Arya shout for me. They were cheerful, so I stopped in the hall and waited for them to catch up to me.

"Sansa, will you take us exploring today?" Bran asked.

"Please Sansa! I want to find dragon eggs." Arya added. "It's no fair that Bran helped you find them and I couldn't."

I pretended to think on it for a minute. "Well, we don't have lessons today, so I suppose we could go exploring. But," I held out a finger, pointing to their clothes "we don't want you ruining your pretty dress or your neat clothes, do we?" They nodded and agreed to go change.

I was still in my training clothes from earlier, so I waited and thought about where we would look. After the discovery of the eggs, Neddy had that part of the castle inspected from top to bottom for more artifacts with no luck. I then thought about my research. Wherever the Family House was, it was likely on ground level or below. But we've already looked in the main building. Perhaps another tower?

Lord Eddard kissed his Lady Wife's shoulder before exiting the bed chamber as she slept. It was good to couple with her again. He had missed her.

He entered his solar to begin an early day. He had received word that the Reach was willing to send a Maester who was an expert in farming if the right terms could be met. He hated dealing with the South, but they would need food for the next winter and it would be cheaper in the long run.

He pushed the note aside, not wanting to pen a response yet. The next order of business was from Benjen. Apparently Sansa had sent him a raven asking after Northern Lore. As such, Benjen would visit, bringing the books sometime in the next month. Ned took a moment to chuckle. His daughter had been busy as of late. Visions, lessons, research, exploring, debating, coming up with ideas and stories in her free time. It was a wonder that she slept at all. He worried a little if her vision from the Old Gods might have made her grow up too soon, much in the same way Benjen was forced to when Ned fought in the Rebellion.

Still, he had seen her take time to play and she still enjoyed her songs. She still enjoyed him checking on her at night. Perhaps he could do more to remind her that she was still only a child? Her nameday had passed while the Lords were visiting, so not much was done for her then. Maybe a trip? Lord Bolton asked him for help in a delicate matter. Maybe Sansa would enjoy visiting his bannermen.

With that decided, he began reading the report on Theon Greyjoy's activities.

Cersei was angry at her husband. Not that this was surprising. The oaf often caused her anger. This time, however, was for a particular reason.

Starks.

It was bad enough her husband was still mooning over a girl dead for a decade now, but he also decided that visiting the backwater she heralded from would be a fun trip. Not only that, but he decided to take the children with him. She tried to direct his attention elsewhere. She tried manipulating Lord Arryn. She even penned a raven to her father. All was to no avail.

"I'm telling you, I won't go!" She screamed at her oafish husband.

"Then fine! You can stay here, but I will take the children. They need to see the Seven Kingdoms outside of the Red Keep." Robert informed her, voice booming.

"You won't take my children away from me! Joffrey needs his mother." Tears began to form in her eyes at the thought of her precious baby surrounded by barbarians for months. It simply wouldn't do!

"Fine! You can keep the little shit here. I will take Tommen and Myrcella though." Robert punctuated his decision with a drink.

"But Joffrey will stay? With me?" Cersei loved all of her children, but Joffrey needed her most out of all of them.

"Gods woman, didn't I just say that? Besides, Jon will be here, taking care of the kingdom. Apparently one of us needs to stay behind and he's better suited to the job anyway. Though I do wish he'd chosen someone other than Stannis to come with me."

Even the news that Lord Arryn would remain did little to dampen her spirits. She could work around him easily enough. Not to mention her boorish goodbrother would be gone as well!

"I'm sure your brother will enjoy being away from Dragonstone, given his complaints over the years. When will you be leaving?"

Okay, so the plot is starting to pick up a little. I wanted for my SI to nip certain things in the bud and this will certainly help. (Though the Leech may just become better at hiding himself in the future. Who knows with that guy?) My SI will also be getting back to exploring now as the search for Old Ice continues (though let's hope she didn't misread and find a can of Old Spice ;) )

We also have more Neddy and a hint at what he's been doing to prepare for the future. Also, Benny's visiting! Maybe he'll sway Jon up to the Wall after all.

Getting into Cersei's brain hurt me. But I am glad she has no interest following her husband. (She also doesn't need to know about the dragon eggs. Bobby B might have actually had her wanting to go then.) While Tommen is only three, I feel like Cersei's neglect of him would make her willing to let him go, same for Myrcella (who is only a year older.)

Also, with Stannis comes certain other characters I adore.

Last edited: Jun 4, 2018

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#59

"Block Sansa! I said to block!" Dacey's voice rang in my ears. Right now, I was practicing using a shield. The sweat poured down my face by the bucket load. My arms were shaking from the weight.

The shield fell. A wooden sword was at my throat.

"You're dead. And this is why we need to build your strength." She turned to address the others. After Arya and Mya joined, the ninnies began to watch us. Jeyne couldn't understand why we were doing this, but little Beth swore she would join us as soon as allowed. Fortunately, her father wasn't going to let her for at least another year.

I groaned from the bruises as I moved to join the others, as it was Mya's turn to block.

"You lasted a few minutes this time." Arya was determined to make sure I would become a warrior maiden. Perhaps I should have waited to tell her about Lagertha the Shieldmaiden. Oh well, what's done is done. Her encouragement did help.

I pulled her into a hug as we watched Mya last longer than I had. Thanks to both her build and her time exploring the Vale, Mya had more strength than Arya and I combined. She'd be able to fight circles around us in no time, I felt sure.

Still, her strength was eventually overcome. After dropping the shield, I thought she would be done for. Instead, she executed a rather graceful sidestep. Hmmm, perhaps I could introduce ballet and jazz dancing to Westeros? It was the only time I was never clumsy back home.

Clank. I looked back at the duo. Mya had grabbed a nearby barrel cover and used it as a makeshift shield. It was weaker than a standard shield and was destroyed in only a few blows of Dacey's mace.

"Dead." Dacey pronounced. "Though this is a good lesson. If your shield fails, you can still buy time. Every second you have when fighting counts. If Mya had a dagger, she could have used her extra time to wound me." We nodded along, taking in the lesson.

Training ended soon after and we went to luncheon.

Luwin watched Sansa studying the Ice Dragon book. She had read it three times already and made more pages of notes than the book had, all of it her neat, tidy script.

He was worried she was becoming obsessed. He approached her with another book—this one less about their dragons and more about less obsessive avenues.

"Sansa? I've recently received a book that I thought might be of interest to you." Sighing, she took the book from him and began to flip through the pages. As she did so, he subtly moved the Ice Dragon book away to hide later. Surely there was nothing more that she needed from the book. More information could only come from another book. They were expecting Benjen sometime in the next week and he would be able to help her.

"I'm such an idiot." He heard her groan before running off.

Odd, they had not even reached the traditional portion of their lesson. Luwin picked up the book with carful ease and looked at the page. At first, he did not understand her revelation. The page (rathr dryly written if he did say so) detailed the construction efforts of one of the Stark ancestors. Hmm. Maester Luwin had hoped that the section that would interest her was a version of the idea she had about stamping letters. Apparently it had been developed but was considered too cumbersome to be of more use than the scribes.

Luwin did his best to see what caught the girl's eye on the page. He studied the sleep-inducing sentences, hoping to understand what her mind caught. There. Near the bottom of the page. It stated that the tower hosting the Family House was too damaged and costly to repair at the time. The Lord's son would call it the Broken Tower. Luwin shook his head and closed the book, going to ensure the girl did not hurt herself at the tower.

Therefore, he was the first person to see her come out, holding another Ice Dragon Egg and a sword made of an unknown metal and (from his educated guess) dragon glass.

Brienne arrived at Dragonstone with some trepidation. Lord Renly had arranged for Lord Stannis to escort her to the North. Apparently, he would be going there on some kind of business for the Crown, Brienne wasn't sure.

Then again, Brienne still wasn't entirely sure why she was to be fostered in the North at all. Her father told her that Lord Stark was looking for companions for his daughters, but surely the man could find them among his own bannermen? So, Brienne had wanted to snoop through the letters her father received, but wouldn't allow herself to. Still, she had heard stories of some of the more remote holdings in the North allowing women to learn to fight. Perhaps she could persuade Lord Stark to send her to one of those?

"Land ho." She heard. She looked through the Myrish Far-Eye she borrowed from the captain. Dragonstone was a dark, ugly place. It stood in great contrast to her own home. Where the sapphire waters and pleasant beaches surrounded Tarth, Dragonstone's water were dark (giving the Blackwater its name) and the beaches reflected that. She shivered at the idea that someone chose to live there.

As they sailed closer, Brienne returned to her cabin and began to change into her least hated dress. The captain told her they would not arrive for a few more hours, but Brienne knew that if she had to go around in dresses for her short time in Dragonstone, she had best get used to them again.

She sat and felt that she had a long journey ahead.

Robb was excited to see what had been the original Ice. How Sansa had found it was beyond him. She had mentioned a hidden area in the Broken Tower, but he never would have expected to look there. Then again, perhaps there was a reason it was Sansa who was chosen by the Old Gods.

Ever since her fever, Sansa had been relentless in the pursuit of change. While he did not care for some of it (such as the sewing lessons and the flirting he received by some of the bannermens' more overt daughters) the fascination he held for the eggs and watching Dacey Mormont fight were amongst the better choices.

"When am I going to find something?" he heard Arya pout. Arya had been positively jealous Sansa found another egg.

"Sansa mentioned there was a whole store of interesting items down in the Family House. Perhaps when it is further explored, you will find something everyone else misses." Robb suggested. At least her interest in discovery had distracted from her dream of becoming Arya the Pirate. It had taken both his and Jon's best efforts to ensure no mention of that particular dream was mentioned near Mother. He tried telling her of the stories their mother told him, of how pirates came during the unexpected, how they murdered families, ruined women, and stole people's livelihoods.

Fortunately, Sansa helped in her own way, speaking of other ideas. Last week, Arya had decided to become a Shieldmaiden (he could guess from the title what was involved.) Still, a long as she didn't specifically say the word 'pirate' around Mother, they were fine.

Robb was allowed to hold the sword. It was lighter than the current Ice (Father allowed him and Jon to hold it once.) It was also slightly shorter than the current Ice. It also gleamed in a way similar to the eggs. Ice was far more appropriate a name for this weapon than the current one. The metal (which even Mikken could not identify) had a whitish hue similar to bone. Robb then turned the sword in his hand and the metal seemed to alter.

It had become as clear as its name.

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#68

I finished packing my trunk. I packed four dresses. After all, it would take less than a week for Lord Stark and I to arrive at the Dreadfort. As such, we would not stay long. Lord Stark said Lord Leech needed some help and applied to his Lord. Why I was being dragged along, I could scarcely guess. Perhaps Neddy learned of my message to Lord Leech?

I sighed as I exited my chambers. At least I had time to mentally prepare myself for the meetings. I suppose there are some benefits to living in a pseudo-medieval setting.

In the meantime, I walked down to the Broken Tower. Neddy had it guarded at all times, but family members were allowed to enter, as long as there was someone already there. Lady Cat wanted to ensure there were no injuries (with a few passing remarks about the structure of the building, of course.)

I looked to the guard, a man named Alyn, who nodded and allowed me to pass. I briefly wondered who was already in the Tower. I walked in and began my descent through the stairs that had been previously covered by a stone and some broken furniture. As I walked, lit torches maintained the light. At the end, Arya and Theon were busy going through the storage containers.

"Still looking for your own egg Arya?" I teased her. I held back a giggle as I remembered her informing me that she would find her own dragon egg, thank you very much. She would find it and figure out how to hatch it before any of us. I simply replied that, if she did figure out how, to please inform the rest of the family so we could make sure it wasn't accidentally done.

"I'll find it." She growled. The almost six-year-old was quite determined. While the anger was no doubt nothing compared to a future that may or may not be waiting for her, the effect was still quite vicious.

I wanted to do nothing more than hug her.

"In the meantime, has anything else been found of interest?" I asked Theon this time. He merely pointed to the ledger and returned to making sure Arya didn't crush herself under the weight of some of the larger items. One of the better ideas Neddy and Lady Cat had was to make a detailed record of was had been uncovered during anyone's time in the Family House.

So far, there had been a reasonable size cache of weapons (including a lovely dagger I claimed for my own.) Most of the weapons were made of a similar material as old Ice, though of varying qualities. It made me wonder if the Starks had been like the Valyrians with weapon-making and the secret simply lost to time. There had been a few dozen books found, but no time to study them. There were also a few well-made armours. These were not made out of the material and some were in more useable condition than others.

Aside from maybe more eggs, I honestly didn't know what to expect to find. After all, old Ice had been the goal. I didn't know if we would find a magical artifact or simply a basic manual for how to defeat the Others (as it was, I'd made a little headway in substantiating my claims for what would defeat the White Walkers.)

Suddenly, I heard Arya howl in pain. I immediately rushed over, pushing Theon out of the way. Assessing the damage, I saw Arya holding an egg in victory, hand bloodied from the nearby knife that was next to an imprint in the shape of the bottom of an egg.

Benjen arrived amidst chaos. He trotted carefully into Winterfell, his horse laden with books. His companion, who held their food and drink gave him a side-eye. Benjen didn't blame him. The man had not been away from the Wall since taking his vows and no doubt wished to be there instead.

The younger daughter, Arya, was screaming something about an egg while her sister was trying to drag her towards the Maester's chambers. The Greyjoy ward shook his head and followed them. Two young ladies he did not recognize were joking about the whole affair. And there was Ned, awaiting him amongst all of this.

"Welcome home Ben." Ned greeted him fondly.

"Glad to be home. Though, if I knew it would be this exciting, I might have waited a bit longer for things to calm." He joked, happy to see his brother in high spirits.

Ned laughed at that. "I'm afraid you'd be waiting a long time. We've not had a calmed day for a while now."

"Sounds like your brood have more wolf's blood than Brandon and Lya ever did." With that, Benjen unclasped the saddlebags. "Now, I believe I've been tasked with acting as a delivery man?"

Benjen couldn't wait to see how the rest of his visit would go.

Mya was troubled. She had grown to enjoy her time in Winterfell and made good friends. But, she missed the Vale. She missed the mountains. She missed her business. She missed…She tossed the letter aside.

She missed Mychel. They had fallen in love so quickly and so deeply, at least on her side. He told her of his time as a squire and of his family. She informed him of her friends and Lady Sansa's stories. She thought they were doing well.

Yet, this most recent letter was so formal, so indifferent in tone. Had he lost interest in her? Had he begun to forget their sweet words and hidden kisses? She wanted nothing more than to march back to the Vale and demand answers. Oh she could just throttle him!

"Are you alright Mya?" Jon's sweetly shy tone began to calm her.

"I'm not sure." She answered honestly. She didn't know what she was feeling. While she had a temper, it was usually cool, allowing her to act according to her rank as a Stone amongst trueborns. Why was she getting so heated now? Was it because Mychel brought out that side of her? And if he did, what did that mean for a marriage with him?

"Can I be of any help?" Jon Snow's eyes were so wide and innocent, she couldn't help but break into a grin.

"No need, I'll be back to my usual charming self in no time." She heard a muffled snort at that. Perhaps Snow had more to him than she thought.

Alright, last one for the night. My SI is hinting at the merging some more (she'll be calling Lord Stark Neddy less often as she becomes more one with Sansa.) There's also been less pf Sansa interjecting, but her influence is still there.

One thing I really hated was how the Broken Tower was left unguarded during the Royal visit. Broken means unsafe Neddy, Lady Cat! We also get to see hints at just how much has been lost to time for the North (imagine how much for the rest of the Seven Kingdoms, as well.) That said, I'm not likely to explore that beyond the North. There simply isn't enough time before the dead march on the Wall.

Benjen's finally arrived! And with him, a glorious source of information, specially curated by Maester Aemon.

Also, I'm altering Mya's character a little as I feel her time in Winterfell would change her a little. There's also hints of her being more of her father's daughter. And a rather sweet moment to tease the StoneSnow shippers. Have a good night everybody!

Last edited: Jun 1, 2018

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Steampunkunicorn

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#72

I hugged Benny tightly, both Sansa's affection for him and my own gratefulness for what he brought flowing through the hug.

"Thank you Uncle. These will aid me greatly in my research." I then released him and curtsied.

"I am happy to be of help, my lady." He gave me a teasing grin as he returned a bow. "Have you really found dragon eggs?"

I nodded. "Oh, Uncle Benjen, they are simply gorgeous! Even the one Arya found, even though the blood won't come off…" And I definitely wondered what that meant for both Arya and the egg. After I made sure Arya stopped bleeding, I grabbed a cloth to wipe away the blood. Only, the blood seemed to have seeped into the egg shell, adding a faint reddish hue to the design.

"I'm sure a good scrub will do the trick. How about you show me?" I nodded absently and pulled him towards where the eggs were kept. Benny and I talked for a bit about what all had happened since his last visit to Winterfell. He seemed interested in the choices for Mya and Dacey to be living in Winterfell, but didn't give a sign of it being a good thing or a bad thing. He agreed that it was a good idea for us to train (having a sad look on his face.)

I wanted to assure him about Lyanna, but I bit my tongue. If I told him what I knew, he would either deny the truth or try to distance himself from me. I couldn't afford him to do either.

We looked at the eggs. He found them beautiful and held the one with hints of black on it with reverence.

"You know, I remember Old Nan telling us stories about ice dragons. Have you heard any?"

"I have. Nan knows lots of stories."

"There was one in particular I remember, about the famed Ice and Fire. Has she told you that one?"

"No, I don't think so." I began to think of the pact that so many fans discussed, but that was long after the Ice Dragons disappeared.

"The story is about a fierce Stark maiden. She was the only daughter of the King. She was to marry her cousin to continue their rule. This was supposedly before the First Men made peace with the Children of the Forest. It was said that the Children captured him in an attack." I nodded along to the story. "They say the maiden flew her dragon down upon the Children. She fought with a fire never before seen from her. She used the Ice you uncovered. Unfortunately, she was too late. Something had happened to her cousin, no one knows for sure. And so, she turned her Ice Dragon upon the Children and then, finally, upon herself. She truly loved him, you see. She didn't want to live without him. And so, her betrothed's younger brother became heir and the line continued."

"What a sad ending for her." It truly was. Going through all of that, just to be too late, choosing to end her own existence rather than be without the one she loved. It was something right out of the songs we enjoy. I wondered how we'd not heard it before.

"It was. I also believe there are a few versions of it among the books I brought if you'd like to read it for yourself. Maester Aemon lets me borrow them from time to time, as they remind me of home." I smiled at the sentiment.

Lady Catelyn watched as her husband and eldest two children finished preparing their horses. She would miss them greatly while they were gone. Ned had told her what a good opportunity Lord Bolton had presented for him to teach the children how to deal with their bannermen. At least it was only to the Dreadfort and not to Last Hearth. With the changes in Sansa, she wanted to keep her close and find the parts of her daughter that still existed from before the fever.

She worried so very much about Sansa. She didn't know if her daughter had been touched by the Old Gods, the New, or just a rather strong delusion and luck. She only knew that Sansa was no longer the same and she wanted nothing more than to hold her and remind herself that she was still her daughter.

At first, she did not realise how much her daughter had altered. While Sansa had had odd ideas and became more academically inclined, she still acted like her old self. But, there had been a sense of unease about her. When Catelyn tried to find out what caused it, her daughter would retreat further from her. So, she did her best to act as though it wasn't there. This seemed to help.

Her daughter was becoming closer to her and even made her the lovely blue gown that her Lord Husband enjoyed. While she did not care for some of the directions her children's educations were going, she could understand a need for them to be able to protect and take care of themselves and each other.

"We will be back soon." Ned assured her, his eyes full of love. Oh, how she was joyous to be with him again. She had hoped they might have another child soon at the rate they had coupled since his return to her bed.

"And I shall be waiting." She told him simply. At least she had Benjen there to help handle Arya and Bran. Arya had taken to carrying the egg she found around with her everywhere and Bran was overfull of energy that she could not match.

"And when we return, we shall have much to discuss." He gave her a small, sweet kiss before mounting his horse.

She watched until they were out of site.

Myrcella was quite excited. Father told her they would be taking a trip soon. Mother and Joff would not be joining them though. Myrcella was slightly saddened by that, but was more happy that Father would be going too.

He had been spending more time with Myrcella and Tommen lately, telling them stories of the North and of Lord Stark and the Lady Lyanna. Myrcella wasn't sure how a woman could be more beautiful than Mother, but Father told her the Lady had been the most beautiful in all the land. So it had to be true.

Myrcella had even been gifted a new doll! Her Mother gifted it "So as to not forget me among those icy, backwater barbarians." Myrcella wanted to ask what barbarians were and what backwater meant, but her Mother had left after that and Father was seeing to the packing.

They were going to take a ship. An actual ship! Myrcella had seen them from the Red Keep and always wanted to ride one and Father was arranging it. They were waiting on Uncle Stannis to return and to finish packing supplies (which Father assured her were Very Important Things.)

Myrcella couldn't wait to go North!

This chapter did not want to cooperate, so it's a little on the short side. Benjen's story is entirely from my own mind and does give some hints that may come in later. I decided to do another Lady Cat section because we've mainly seen her relationship with Sansa through the eyes of my SI and this also gives some insight to her family outside of her relationship with Neddy. (Though we do have a sweet hubby moment in there.) I also wanted to end it on a happier note, so here we have Myrcella. As much as writing Cersei hurt me, writing Myrcella was a joy. I just want to bundle her and Tommen up and protect them from the world.

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Steampunkunicorn

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#74

We'd ridden at a fast, but not reckless pace. I imagined Lord Stark was wanting to deal with the unpleasantness that was Lord Leech as quickly as possible.

Still, we weren't needing to be there yesterday, so I got to enjoy some of the nature around me. I'd grown up in the Appalachian Mountains and was used to enjoying the natural beauty of the world (in between the druggies and trailer parks and coal trucks, of course.) Though the North differed in topography and plant-life, it was no less lovely.

Indeed, the occasional summer snows gave it a sense of brightness and added a sharpness to the air that reminded me of the random attempts at snow in the fall in my universe.

It was rather funny to think about, but Winterfell and Westeros in general was starting to feel like a home to me. I supposed it would have to have happened at some point or my depression would have resulted in an intolerable existence and I enjoyed the joyous parts of life far too much for that.

We entered the Dreadfort, being given every curtesy offered by Lord Leech and the light meal that was given to us as we refreshed ourselves was filling. A bath had even been set for me in the time I took to eat my meal. Given that the Dreadfort was not over hot springs, I knew there was an intentional message behind doing so. Nevertheless, I did enjoy it and washed away the smell of horse and earth from myself. My traveling clothes were being taken to clean by a young maid, whom I thanked. She blushed at my thanks and took the clothes away without so much as a word.

Odd. The servants in Winterfell would verbally beg pardon before leaving. I suppose working for Lord Leech would frighten the manners from anyone. Still, I redid my braid (this time wearing two rope braids, twisted into the shape of an interlocking chain.) Given the intent behind the bath, I supposed I could create my own message and the hairstyle was a favorite in my brown hair before.

I then quickly dressed (as much as I loved corsets in media, I was thankful not to need one yet in Sansa's body) and went down to dinner.

As Domeric was still away fostering, only Lord Leech ate with us. The meal was quiet, partly from our tiredness from traveling, partly from the atmosphere. Lord Stark was easily illustrating signs of curiosity and informed Robb they would be speaking to Lord Leech the next day, wanting to be rested in order to deal with the matter. I knew I would likely not be a part of the discussion as, even with the events, I was still a seven-year-old. Robb was the heir and old enough to learn from watching the discussion, whereas there would be no use for me.

Still, Lord Leech offered to have a servant give me a tour of the Dreadfort's natural beauties and, of course, invitation to pray in the Godswood.

I smiled and thanked him. Damn. Now I would have to deal with possibly being noticed by old Three-Eyes. I had managed to avoid the weirwood tree in Winterfell and spent a reasonable time in the Godswood so as not to raise suspicion, but here, I could hardly do so without Lord Leech wondering why a girl touched by the Old Gods would do so, or worse, accuse me of being too Southern (which would only hurt the North's unity in the long-run.)

I hated politics. And when religion gets involved in politics.

Still, I kept a smile on my face and a pleasant countenance as I used my spoon to scoop the soup from my bowl, all the while imagining it was Lord Leech's shriveled heart.

Robb was told to remain quiet and observe the proceedings. And he did his best to do so. However, when Father asked him along to learn how to deal with bannermen, he thought he'd be allowed to participate. And so, he felt annoyance as he watched the meeting.

"Thank you for coming so quickly, Lord Stark." Lord Bolton whispered (to be fair, Robb didn't believe he had heard the man do anything louder.)

"Of course, given your tendency not to exaggerate, I understood the importance and urgency you felt. Now, shall we be blunt?" Father asked in a courteous tone. Lord Bolton looked as if he had an echo of what could be considered a smile if Robb squinted and turned his head.

"Of course, my lord. I'm afraid it is a rather personal issue, one I would normally hope not to bring to your attention." Robb perked up at this. He wondered what the matter could be.

"No issue that affects your lands could be too personal when you are in need of help. Please."

"It involves my sons. When I was at Winterfell, your daughter told me a rather…unfortunate prophecy." Lord Bolton almost seemed shaken for a moment, but it was quickly hidden.

Father frowned and became pale. Robb couldn't help but worry. Obviously Lord Bolton's reaction was telling to Father. This is why Robb needed to become more familiar with his bannermen. He could know so much more then.

"Your daughter Sansa told me of certain actions that have not yet come to pass, but are worth losing one's head if even suggested."

"Is your son the one to commit such actions?" Father asked rather tightly.

"I'm afraid my bastard will be the one to do so…as well as myself." Lord Bolton's face was completely impassive.

"I don't understand Lord Bolton."

"Your daughter told me of what may come to pass. It will end in all of my family dying and the ruination of my House and lands. My bastard will take away every move I have made in distancing my House from our current reputation. I cannot allow this. We Boltons are prideful men. To know what this pride may cost is unacceptable. That is why I have asked for your aid."

"Has your baseborn son done anything worth punishing yet?" Father's face was impassive, but he held a note of sympathy. No doubt wanting to avoid injuring what was left of Lord Bolton's pride.

"Nothing worth more than being locked in the cells for a few weeks. But I have seen the potential within him. It is why I was willing to believe your daughter's words."

"That is indeed troubling. We cannot punish for what he may do, only for what he has done. With your permission, my lord, I would like to spend a day or two through your lands. Officially, I will be aiding on new farming techniques. It is well-known in Winterfell that I have sent for advice from the Reach for better harvests. During that time, I will speak to your smallfolk and see if there is anything that was hidden from your notice." With that, the two shook hands and moved on to lighter topics.

The lands surrounding the Dreadfort, while not as lovely as Winterfell, were still rather picturesque. The maid that was serving as my tour guide was well-versed in geography and took me to the lovelier areas. I was content to do so as I would not have any information about Lord Stark and Lord Leech's meeting until after dinner, where I would force Robb to tell me everything.

We were on our way back to the Dreadfort when we heard a noise. Lynna, the maid, quieted from her description of the nearby lake in spring and moved in front of me. No doubt she wished to protect me (for if any harm should come to me, she would likely be punished.) Nevertheless, I gripped the dagger I had claimed and, despite having not trained with it yet, felt safer.

The noises grew louder as we looked for somewhere to hide. Unfortunately we were in a rather lovely field. While pretty, it was ultimately useless for protection.

A young woman came running, trying to escape whatever was coming for her. She was injured and limping. I immediately acted to help her, perhaps feeling overconfident from the knowledge of having my dagger. I ran to her and helped her over to Lynna. Between us, we would be able to take her back to the Dreadfort and seek help from the Maester there.

"T-thank you m'lady." The girl whispered, not having breath to speak louder. Lynna had followed after me and was quick to add her support for the girl.

"None of that, now. Thank me when we escape." I stated, a little louder than I meant to.

"Now why would you want to do that?" A masculine voice asked from behind us.

I turned and saw a young man with a pockmarked face and a bow and arrow.

Fuck.

Maester Luwin was excited. While the discovery of what lay in the Broken Tower overshadowed the book's purpose, Luwin believed it would still be worth looking into. The design the Stark ancestor created for the writing press was, in fact, overly cumbersome and difficult to use. The design was based on a wine press, a rather outdated model from the looks of it. As such, it was regarded as a failure.

Still, it had potential.

Luwin had been tweaking the design for several days now, in between his categorizing the books Benjen Stark had brought. Luwin removed a lot of the extraneous and downright confusing sections of the press. He also compared it to more modern wine presses and retooled the design further.

In the end, Luwin had finished the design and was ready to commission the press. It would take some time before it was built. Oh, but what a surprise it would be for Sansa. He could hardly wait to see the pure excitement on her innocent face.

Indeed, as Luwin was walking into Wintertown to speak to the proper craftsmen, he knew there was excitement in Winterfell's future.

Ooh, the excitement is mounting. The Starks and Lord Leech have met and are dealing with Very. Serious. Things. Meanwhile, my SI is expected to just have a good time and enjoy the scenery. Yeah. That'll happen.

The meeting went down. I'm actually surprised how many (over on AH) thought I was going to have Lord Leech on the attack. My understand of Roose was that he, like Tywin, would do anything to raise his House. He also came to an understanding with Neddy way back. Lord Leech's betrayal was brought on by a combination of his troubling bastard, an alliance with the Freys, the chance to advance his House, and his dislike of Robb and his choices concerning the war. He knew which way the wind was blowing and wanted to keep his House intact. So, having the knowledge Sansa gives him, he is planning his next steps very carefully. He doesn't want to be a kinslayer and Ramsey's terrorizing has been carefully denied actual justice with a judicious use of bribes and threats. As such, if he were to try to convict Ramsey himself, he could be seen as accomplice and accessory. So, getting Neddy to do the legwork minimizes that risk.

Also, having grown up where I have, I have a deep appreciation of nature, so since my SI isn't really given much to do after constant work, she would definitely want a chance to take in her surroundings. Also, because Ramsey is Ramsey, he had to interrupt to fuck shit up.

In other news, the printing press is getting made, y'all!

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#77

I gripped my dagger tightly as I looked upon a face that would only look good if mauled by a dog first. While I was never attracted to his actor, the man looked downright pretty compared to the real thing.

"We found this young lady running to escape something. Obviously some animal had attacked her. Tell me, good sir, have you come across any dangerous animals in your hunting?" I made my eyes as wide as possible. I had a few theories about Ramsey's character. Criminology was primarily the study and theory for why criminals acted the way that they did, using a sociological approach. My personal favorite idea was that it was mainly Strain Theory with a dash of Labeling Theory and Traitors Theories added in.

As such, I knew the best way to get what was needed to ensure Ramsey would end with his head detached from his body. (I hoped, anyway.)

"Whatever happens, just go along with it." I whispered to the two young ladies.

"Yes, I do believe I saw the animal that attacked her." There was a gleam of humor in his eye.

"Oh, did you kill it Ser?" Babies couldn't sound more innocent than me at that point.

Ramsey laughed. "No, I'm afraid I could not destroy the beast. Alas, I cannot be considered a Ser either. There are too few in the North already."

"I apologize then. Might I have the name of the man who would be our protector?" I made sure my accent was as much like Lady Cat's as I could. No doubt he thought I was a clueless child at this point.

"I am Ramsey Snow, my lady." He then bowed. He was almost as charming as a three-week-old corpse. Almost.

"Then I thank you Snow. I am on my way to visit my Mother's cousins in Karhold. My grandmother was from there and when she died, she asked my mother that I be allowed to see it." I fabricated the tale as quick as a blink. "Lord Bolton was kind enough to allow my Mother and I to stay the night."

"Yes, Lord Bolton is the soul of generosity, isn't he Lynna?" Thank goodness I told her to go along with my story.

"Of course Ramsey." Lynna stated obediently.

"Oh, you know each other? Lynna, why didn't you mention that you had siblings?"

"She doesn't my lady."

"Oh, I apologize, I should have known. Lynna, you are most lucky to be courted by a decent hunter. He will ensure you never go hungry." I said teasingly to her. She didn't smile back.

"No, I'm afraid we're not courting either." He was starting to get angry. Good.

"Then how do you know each other, Ramsey Snow?" If my eyes were any bigger, you could have called me a Reed.

"She works for my father." He answered with a vicious satisfaction.

"But she works for…Oh! My apologies. I'm afraid I didn't see the resemblance. I'm afraid I thought you looked more like a groom from the stables. What was his name again?" Ah, the bluntness of being a child. Nothing like it to properly wind him up. "Yes, it was Torrhen. The man who mucks the stall. Imagine my embarrassment."

"Yes, imagine it." He was moving closer. Good, he wanted to intimidate and make it personal.

"Well then, shall we go? Mother and I want to make good time and surprise our relatives with an early arrival and the best way to do that is to get an early rest." I beckoned him as though I had not a care in the world. Lynna and the young woman looked as though they were going to their death.

"Oh, I'm afraid it may take some time for us to return." He was shifting closer to me than the other two.

"Really, but it took us such a short time to arrive here…" I trailed off, subtly unsheathing my dagger.

"Well, I'm afraid your time will be even shorter." Ramsey moved to grab my neck, but I ducked. Still, he caught my arm and throttled me. I waved my dagger wildly. I tried to remember the moves I saw from the show, Outlander, and from Dacey's practicing. Up through the ribcage, going for pulse points. Use quick jabs, in and out.

I had managed to hit his hand, as well as cut his face. Unfortunately, it was below the eye, so it did not blind him. Still, I continued to try. I had lasted longer than I would have when I first came to Westeros. I managed a lucky hit at his eye opposite the cheek I had cut. At that point, Lynna and the young lady tackled him, as he had released me with that hit.

"Run!" Lynna yelled.

And so I did.

Lord Roose Bolton was satisfied with how his talk with Lord Stark went. He knew this plan was a gamble, but if it paid off, it would save his House for generations to come.

He knew that he could have arranged an accident for his bastard years ago, but felt that he could handle him. What the girl told him though…

He knew what he had to do. If he simply arranged an accident, the crimes could still be whispered and associated with himself and Domeric. By bringing Lord Stark in to help, he was not only showing his condemnation of such crimes, but also showing how much credit he gave Stark's claims. Now, he just had to arrange for Stark to talk to some of the smallfolk that had not yet been taken care of…

"My Lord, you must come at once!" What was the idiot needing him for now? "Tis Lady Sansa! She's been injured." Roose immediately stood and walked through the door. He did not run, but instead used his height to take a longer stride than he normally would.

Roose entered the room to find a blood-soaked daughter of his Lord Paramount. Said Lord Paramount looked up at him with anger and sadness.

"Most of the blood is not hers." Lord Stark stated. Roose nodded, careful to show a hint of worry and relief. Emotions did come in handy if one used them carefully.

"Do we know who was foolish enough to attack her?" He hoped it had been a mere animal. Such a thing would leave him blameless for everything except providing a suitable protector.

"She said it was a young man. He told her his name was Ramsey Snow." Lord Stark told him seriously.

Good. Ramsey had just handed him the perfect way to secure his House.

Ramsey was angry. First, his prey had escaped. Then, an idiotic little Southerner insulted him and wounded him. Then his prey and Lynna used their combined strength to carry him to his Father's keep. Any time he tried to escaped, one of them would press on the wounds the little chit had given him. Ramsey was supposed to be further away, living at least a day away from the Dreadfort. His Father would not be pleased.

When he arrived, he was sent to the cells instead of the Maester. Father must have been angry. Still, after dealing with the girl and the chit's mother and a few days of stewing, he would be allowed back out to play with his toys.

So, when a man he did not recognize came to his cell, he was surprised.

"Do you know who I am, boy?" The man asked. Ramsey looked at the man through his still-intact eye. The man was well-dressed, speaking to rank. He also spoke with a clear Northern accent. Still, Ramsey had few interactions with Lords other than his Father.

He shook his head.

"I am Lord Stark." Oh shit. There would be little chance of his Father being able to cover up the crime for him. Just why was Stark at the Dreadfort? Usually he knew when other lords were visiting, as he had to curtail his activities at the time. "You attacked my daughter and injured her with the intention of killing her." Fuck. That little chit was a Stark? How did she fool him?

"I am sorry my lord, I did not realize who she was." He knew he was pouring a bucket of water onto Wildfire, but he did not know what else to do.

"Do you think that matters?" Okay, that was not the answer he expected. He had hoped by thinking it was a mix-up, the man would soften the sentence. Instead, it just made him angrier. "A life is a life. And from what Jayda told Lord Bolton and myself," double fuck "it seems that you have taken several lives, as cruelly as possible. As such, there will be no trial. There will be no Wall. You will be executed tonight."

"That's not fair! I deserve a trial!" While the North had a different system of justice, a trial was still allowed for those in relation to the Lords of the North.

"Like those innocent lives you've taken and tormented? Lord Bolton has stated that you are no longer his son. As such, you will be administered justice as a member of the smallfolk."

With that, the man left.

Like I'd really leave you hanging. For the record, my SI had an idea of what she would do if she saw Ramsey and prepared. (Remember in the previous chapter where I mentioned needing to mentally prepare herself?)

Also, a little info: Criminology is the study of criminal behavior through the lens of a sociological approach. As such, there was a lot of overlap with the sociology and social work students. Strain Theory, or Anomie as it is more commonly known, is the theory that because of the difference in expectation (such as the American Dream, for example) and reality (very few ever achieving it, rampant poverty, drug usage, overburdened prison system, etc.) causes a strain on a person, causing them to use illegal and immoral means to achieve it. Labelling Theory is the idea that if a person is labelled a certain way, they will eventually go along with it-an 'if you can't beat them, join them' idea, if you will. For example, being a bastard and the Bolton's reputation could very well encouraged Ramsey to behave the way he does. Finally, Traitor Theories is an individualized theory not focused on societal factor, but the person, themselves. The idea is that a person may experience a brutalization early in life and subsequent criminal behavior is how they process (you know, like Ramsey's fucking existence?)

Anyway, if you find it interesting, I highly recommend reading more in-depth. The various theories are downright fascinating.

Also, I highly doubt Lady Cat will object to my SI fighting now. While nowhere near proficient, my SI's strength and defensive moves prevented her death. She knew she had to provoke Ramsey into attacking her, but had to do it in a personal way. Given how Lynna reacted when Jayda came barreling through, my SI took a gamble that paid off. Yes, it was supremely stupid and I, as the author, acknowledge that. That said, I did say that not everything would work perfectly. My SI will be affected and it will make her more cautious in the future.

Outside of when we see Neddy serve justice to the guy at the beginning of the first book, there is little mentioned about the justice system in the North. As such, I believe some of the Southern notions helped to shape the North, and that includes trials for nobles and relations of nobles. However, because Roose disowned Ramsey, he is technically no longer that. After all, Roose acknowledged him because the timing. There's really no other way to prove Ramsey was his. *innocently blinks* And, let's face it, the smallfolk get screwed. A lot.

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Steampunkunicorn

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#83

Lord Eddard Stark grimaced as he removed the young man's head. He had never enjoyed this particular duty. Still, it needed to be done. For the boy to knowingly attack a girl from a noble house showed a particular disregard for human life. If things had gone any differently…

Ned shuddered at the thought.

"I thank you Lord Stark." Lord Bolton whispered. "I am in your and your daughter's debt for aiding in taking care of my mistakes."

Ned nodded and turned to Robb. Robb had watched the execution like a man grown. Gods, all of his children were growing too fast.

"Shall we go check on your sister?" He asked Robb. Better to focus on her for now.

Robb nodded and they looked in on a sleeping Sansa. The Maester had given her milk of the poppy to aid in her sleep. Ned moved her hair from her face as Robb held her hand whispering about how he should have been there.

What was the girl thinking?

Never mind, he would deal with that when she was awake for him to ask.

For now, he just peered down at her pale face, marred by an ugly bruise on her jaw, as well as several on her throat. His eyes nevertheless roamed higher to see the long cut near her hairline. He had hoped it would not leave a scar.

I awoke feeling froggy. I didn't remember falling asleep.

For some time after, who knew how long, I was in this state.

Which is why that pain I felt when I sat up to relieve myself and dress for the day surprised me.

"Ah" I hissed, feeling a sharp pain in my ribs. How had that happened?

I fell back against the bed, much harder than my own.

Where was I?

"M'lady, you're awake." I turned to see someone at the door. Lynna.

That's right, I was at the Dreadfort. I had been resting after a fight. It had been with…

I was having trouble thinking.

I tried to think harder.

It was starting to come back.

I had been in a field.

I awoke to darkness. How much time had passed? I felt a little less confused. I immediately knew I was in the Dreadfort. I also remembered Ramsey. I had seen Lynna. Was she alright? Did she and the young woman escape?

I tried to sit up again.

"Careful." I heard a sharp reprimand. Lord Stark was at my side in an instant. Oh, I had never been so relieved to see him.

I hugged him as tightly as I could, feelings of pain racketed my child body.

"How are you feeling sweetling?" He asked, voice so full of emotion, I truly felt like a child.

"I ache a bit, but I am alright." I answered truthfully.

"Good. How about we get you some broth? And then you can tell me what happened."

"I thought I told you what happened Father." I remembered.

"You told me you were attacked in the woods. You said nothing about being out there with only a maid and a dagger." Shit, he looked pissed.

He had told me to take a guard with us before his meeting with Lord Leech. I just thought he was being overprotective. God, I fucked up.

Lord Stark (truly at his full Stark) looked at me with full parental fury as I sipped my broth. I had some plenty of stupid shit growing up, but this is the first time I had risked my life. And it wasn't only my life either.

No, it wasn't. Shit, even Sansa was angry with me.

I fucked up big time.

Robb entered his sister's chambers, having heard that Sansa was awake and talking. Good. He had promised himself that he would personally guard her until it they had returned to Winterfell.

"Robb!" Sansa greeted, smile on her face. Thank the Gods.

"Sansa!" Robb returned, grin refusing to leave.

"Sansa was just about to tell me why she went out around the nearby countryside where there were bandits and Wildling and shadowcats roam, where she does NOT know the safe pathways, with only a maid and no other means of protection." Sansa flinched and sank further into the furs.

"I…" She trailed off.

"Yes, Sansa. Please tell us what happened to allow for these circumstances." Robb interjected, softer than Father. He truly did not understand what had gone through her mind.

"I thought we were safe. I had my dagger." She began.

"Yes, a dagger you have not practiced with and a maid that has even less ability to protect herself than you did." Father's voice had been colder than ice.

"I'm sorry." Sansa stated.

"Sorry is all well and good after the fact, but it would not have done any good if I had to return your body to your mother. As it is, I can only imagine her reaction when she reads the raven I sent."

Sansa flinched again. Father left after that.

"Sansa, truly, what were you thinking?" Robb asked. He genuinely wondered at the girl in front of him. She knew to take proper precautions. She knew about the dangers. For the Gods' sake, she didn't even go to Wintertown without a castle guard!

"I thought I could handle myself." He barely heard her.

"Sansa, you have taken on so much, but you are not to that point yet. Your training still has such a long way to go. You've seen Jon and Theon and I practice. You know you aren't even able to go against us yet. Why did you think you could handle threats more dangerous than the practice yard?" He was truly perplexed at her thought.

Sansa's face flashed with annoyance and she took several moments to form her answer.

"I overestimated my abilities. Happy?" She sank into the bed, arms crossed to punctuate her point.

"I would be happier if you had never been injured. As it stands, we will be here long enough for you to heal enough to ride and I will be escorting you everywhere. Father is also demanding two guards be with you at all times outside of the Dreadfort." Sansa looked as though she was about to protest. "This is not for argument. As it was, Lord Bolton and I talked Father down from having a squadron of men surrounding you at all times, only because of the impracticality with the current number of men we have."

Sansa turned and stared at a spot on the wall. Robb moved towards a chair and began his Watch.

Benjen had been enjoying his time at Winterfell. He knew he would not be able to stay for more than a month, and so did his best to enjoy every moment before returning to his duty.

Indeed, he had found simple pleasures within the walls of his childhood home. Little Arya and Bran, for example, begged for stories, which he happily told. Some were about the Wall, of his more eventful rangings. Others were stories he had heard from his sworn brothers. There were even a few of his childhood. It didn't matter the subject, the two listened with rapt attention, absorbing each tale with equal excitement.

He usually reserved the stories for near their bedtimes, so as to have his goodsister escort them to bed at the appropriate time. Yet, when the time came, there was no sign of her.

He waited, hoping she was running a little late, distracting the children with a clapping game one of the younger recruits taught the men.

An hour passed. Catelyn was nowhere to be found. And so, he escorted the rather grumpy children to their chambers and took to looking for her.

He found her in her own chambers, clutching a letter tightly and crying. He crept closer to her, afraid any sudden movement would be the wrong one. She jerked away as he tried to touch her hand in comfort.

"Oh, Benjen." She said dazedly. What did the letter contain? "I'm afraid Ned will not be returning as quickly as we'd expected. It seems there was an attack and Sansa is too injured to ride home for now." She began crying again.

Bollocks, he had no idea what to do. He began rubbing her back, much in the same way Lya had done for him, once upon a time.

They stayed like that for some time.

Yeah, my SI done fucked up. Everyone's wanting to know why and Lady Cat is gonna be a mama bear.

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#86

I dreamed that night. I dreamed of little blue dresses and bare feet. I dreamt of exploring the wilderness and creeks of my Nanny's home. I dreamed of being scolded for going out without shoes. There are snakes out there, Ali.

Most of all, I dreamed of a little brunette girl, one that seemed so far away surrounded by rhododendron and goldenrod and honeysuckle.

I awoke to a damp room and a pain in my ribs.

"Are you okay?" I heard a voice ask. I turned to see Robb moving to help me up.

I tried to wave him off and do it myself, but he ignored me. I wasn't a child! Okay, well I was, but I didn't have the brain of one!

Robb helped me out of the bed and called for a maid to help me change clothes. I was put into my softest dress by Lynna, who was becoming more of a presence than Robb at times.

"Thank you Lynna." I told her, wanting to be courteous.

"No problem m'lady. Now, we shall style your hair and escort you to break your fast." The tone she used did not even let me think of protesting.

Oh, how I hated this routine! I really was not allowed any freedom. Still, I stayed my tongue. I truly had been idiotic. I had forgotten some of the very real dangers in Westeros. Growing up in my old life, if I roamed the countryside, I was only scolded for not wearing shoes (in case of snakes.) So long as I was back by a certain point, I was free to explore where I wanted.

Sansa, however, was too valuable for that. And I had forgotten.

And so, this routine continued over the next few days. I was escorted everywhere by Robb, as he promised. If I so much as went into the garden to pick flowers, I was followed by Robb, Lynna, and two guards. Lord Stark kept my dagger, stating that I would need to further my training if I wished to have it back. I thought that was fair.

Lord Leech had been surprisingly deferential. Normally, a person would think that Lord Stark was overstepping his role as guest, not allowing any of Lord Leech's men to do their jobs. However, the two lords seemed to have found an understanding. He also ensured that our wants did not even come to suggestion, let alone go by unmet.

Life in the Dreadfort became comfortable as the days passed. Which is why I really should not have been surprised by the arrival of Lady Cat.

Lady Catelyn knew as soon as she had read the paper the raven carried, she would get no rest. Indeed, after Benjen soothed her, she immediately packed and prepared a retinue of guards. She left before the morning sun.

The guards were understanding and remained vigilant for possible threats she was not going to be able to comfort and aid her daughter if she, too, was injured.

The trip was taken as fast as she was comfortable with, taking minimal breaks to rest and restore the horses. She knew little rest. She slept when she could only to wake more tired than she had been. She knew she would not be able to rest properly until she saw with her own eyes how badly Sansa had been hurt.

They arrived at midday, entering the Dreadfort with little fanfare. Lord Bolton and Ned were there to greet her, as well as Robb and Sansa.

The sight that greeted her nearly took her aback. A sickly yellowish bruise covered a good portion of her daughter's jaw. Lines in the shape of fingers on her delicate, pale throat. An angry red wound nearly as red as her hair. She wanted nothing more than to scoop her daughter into her arms and take her away from a place that would allow such injuries.

"Lady Stark, you are welcome." Lord Bolton whispered as she got off her horse.

"Cat…" Ned looked so upset, feeling her anguish.

"Mother." Robb said simply. She spied a sword at his hip. Good, he would help his father take care of any that wished to harm them.

She walked over to Sansa, careful to keep from crying out. Sansa was so pale up close, a frightened expression on her face. Oh, what sort of monster did this? She turned to Ned, anger at the injustice on her face.

"The young man that committed these crimes has been found and executed. He was a cruel member of the smallfolk, one that is no longer a threat." Ned emphasised this statement to her. Good. Still, what had happened to allow her attacker to get so close to her? Surely the man could not have killed a guard?

"We have much to discuss." Her tone brooked no excuses. Sansa dug her face into the cloth of Catelyn's dress, obviously frightened from her ordeal.

Ned watched her expression as he described the odd circumstances. How their daughter had taken the maid and left before the guards were supposed to escort them. How Sansa defended herself, the injuries, and how the maid and the original target brought the man to the Dreadfort for justice. Eddard was forced to stop at points as Cat raged and ranted, anger in her eyes. Whether it was at him, the guards, or Ramsey, he did not know. He knew a part of her was angry at Sansa's naiveté, it there was a part of him that was, as well.

He had thought it had been best to raise their children happy. But for one of them to be so blinded as to nearly die because she thought nothing bad could possibly happen? He needed to ensure their safety.

Fortunately, Catelyn agreed with him. When they returned to Winterfell, things would change.

Lynna watched her self-appointed charge carefully. She couldn't figure out what to make of the girl. At first, she seemed to be a normal Lady (not that Lynna had too much to compare her to.) Then, she thought her eccentric, as she wanted to roam the outdoors without a guard. Then, she thought her brave, going to help Jayda when most would have ran. She thought her idiotic when she prodded the bastard's temper. Then she thought her suicidal for going against him with only a fancy knife.

Now, she didn't know what to make of her. She acted the part of a frightened girl, but chafed under her brother's watch. She heard the girl mutter the oddest things, most of which she didn't understand. She watched as the girl tried to push herself too hard and muttered about killing pain. She saw how the sight of the grand Lady frightened the girl more than the bastard had.

Her charge was quite odd, in Lynna's opinion. Still, the girl had risked herself for her and Jayda, a mere maid and a stranger running for her life. Lynna knew that she wanted the girl to live. The best way for her to make sure of it was to become the girl's maid.

And so, after a few days, she left her charge to sleep with her brother guarding her and went to find Lord Bolton to inform him of her wishes. Lord Bolton was not in his solar, so she went to find the Maester, hoping he might know. He wasn't in the rookery. Instead, it was that new serving girl. The mute one.

What was she doing there?

Lynna tried to be quiet as she watched. The mute had pilfered some parchment and ink (both crimes worth a flogging.) She had finished writing something and was heading to send it. Lynna took a chance and grabbed the girl, restraining her as she grabbed for the parchment and knocked the mute out. She then peered at the parchment.

While Lynna did not read that well, her father had been taught by a hedgeknight during the Rebellion and returned home, wanting to give his children a better future through reading. Unfortunately, a sickness took him shortly after. As such, Lynna knew enough to recognise a few words and had to guess at the meaning.

Stark. That was the Lord's name. Snow. She knew that word, as her father first wrote the word in it, to help her and her sister learn it. Report. That word meant information was being shared. Her father told her the word in his war stories.

Lynna quickly understood what the parchment meant. She ripped it to pieces and tossed it into the low fire in the grate. She looked over at the mute, wondering if she could heft her down to one of the guards. They would take care of any treachery the mute might have had in her head.

I want to emphasise my SI's own stupidity. Growing up, I had a great deal of freedom and a large area I was allowed to explore (to this day, I still hate wearing shoes, as well.) As such, Sansa had a fair amount of freedom within Winterfell and did not equate the difference. Everything was going according to plan. Unfortunately, she became rather short-sighted and overconfident. Meanwhile, Lady Cat did as Lady Cat always does and mothers. Ned, meanwhile, was careful not to give her any more ammunition against Jon while still being truthful and assuring. Also, Lynna's character kinda surprised me. I meant for her to only be a way to show my SI's fair treatment of the servants, but she kept butting in. So, yeah, she's likely to be a part of the band.

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Steampunkunicorn

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#90

Roose Bolton could feel a headache forming. Indeed, his gamble may have paid off, but the price for it was still paying him back.

"You mean to tell me you found the girl on your way to tell me you wish to leave my employ, destroy the only evidence that could prove her treachery, and come to me hoping I would simply believe your word?" While it would have made for a ridiculous ruse, didn't the maid understand she couldn't accuse someone without something to back her claims?

"I was worried the parchment might have been sent anyway, m'lord." Good. At least she realised her blunder.

"The serving girl has admitted to stealing parchment and ink. She claimed she was sending a letter to her family." The Maester helpfully added.

"I thought she was mute." Roose stated. After all, it was hard to forget something like that.

"She is able to read and write with proficiency, my lord." The Maester stated. "I also found partial pieces of the parchment in the grate, though there was nothing of value written on what was salvaged."

"I see. Very well, the serving girl will be punished for her thievery and docked pay for the cost of the parchment. She will also be under probation for a fortnight. And you" He turned to the girl that was the cause of his headache "are more than welcome to leave my employ. I expect you gone from the Dreadfort by morning." With that, he added "And not a word to the Starks. If this is treachery, I will deal with it, myself." Roose then left. He walked down to the cells where his bastard had spent his last few hours in. As he passed the cell holding the mute serving girl, he couldn't help but wonder what secrets she held.

I awoke in the middle of the night. Robb, usually a light sleeper, did not wake from his chair. I sat up and got out of bed with barely a twinge. Thank God, I was ready to leave the Dreadfort. I exited my room, wanting a drink and a walk to clear my head. I looked around for a guard. If I were to sneak about without one, I would likely face even more restrictions than I already did.

Instead, I heard a faint crying. I walked towards the sound, looking continually for a guard. I eventually found Alyn, and I informed him that I had need of him before continuing towards the crying.

Lynna stood in surprise. "Oh, m'lady." She then curtsied.

"What is the matter, Lynna?" Even when we met Ramsey, she hadn't been this upset.

"Oh m'lady, I messed up." She began to cry again. I gave her a handkerchief and waited for her to dry her eyes. "I've been sacked and have to be gone by morning." That set her off again. I comforted her while Alyn stood behind us as a rather awkward statue.

"There, there. You've been such a good maid to me. I know what we'll do. Come with me." I tugged her to follow as we three walked towards Lady Cat and Lord Stark's chambers. I knocked on the first one, not knowing which they occupied that night.

Fortunately, Lord Stark answered. "Father, I'm afraid I've found need of this maid. She has been as protective of me as any of our party and I do not wish to part with her. Lord Bolton has agreed to allow her to leave. Please Father?" I gave him big blue eyes.

He looked at me in disbelief. "What's the truth?" He asked Lynna. Damn, he was starting to realize my tricks.

"I've been sacked m'lord for acting foolish. Tis true I wanted to serve m'lady. I've never seen a kinder woman and have come to care for her. However, Lord Bolton wishes me gone by morning." She stated shamefully.

Lord Ned sighed. "Very well. I have some of the guards returning to Winterfell in the morning to inform them of our status and how much longer we will be here. If you are ready to go by then, you are welcome into my employ. Do you have any family nearby that needs to be informed?"

I could have hugged him. As it was, I smiled a happy smile. I had grown fond of Lynna and her overprotectiveness during my time at the Dreadfort and was happy to see her happy. That said, I wondered why Lord Leech would dismiss her. What could she have done to be considered foolish?

"I have a sister, m'lord, but she is married and is south of here."

"Very well, after escorting Sansa back to her room, have Alyn help you pack your things and inform the guards that you will be going to Winterfell." Lord Ned looked tired at that point.

"Thank you Father!" I beamed. We curtsied and left.

I was frog marched back to my room, but I felt I didn't need anything at the moment.

Varys sighed as he read his reports. He had been expecting to hear from his little birds in the North by now, but information had been scarce. Indeed, it seemed that his increase of birds flying North did nothing to alter the rate of information.

Those that had been placed at the Neck sent confirmation of their arrival, but nothing since. Others more North had sent confusing reports of the Lords spending their time consulting with their Maesters and searching through old tomes. Only Winterfell had been different so far. The Greyjoy hostage seemed to have been included more often with the Stark children, though it seemed he was also carefully watched. A repository of artifacts had been found in the Broken Tower, but he did not yet receive a report yet of what had been uncovered. There was also a mention of another dragon egg and an ancient sword, but the details were scarce.

Fortunately, the little birds sent with the King would be able to aid in the information retrieval. It was better to find out how dangerous these artifacts were and if any magic was involved, for the good of the kingdom, of course.

Brienne was happy to finally be on her way to Winterfell. After arriving on Dragonstone, she had found comfort in Lord Stannis's daughter. Though she was only five name days, the girl was bright and cheerful, despite her scars. Brienne had taken to playing with the girl, as she did not have many friends at Dragonstone.

Fortunately, it was only a few days before they went to King's Landing and met with the King. It appeared Lord Renly forgot to mention that it was more than just Lord Stannis going to the North. And so, Shireen was quick to spend time with her cousins, the Prince and Princess. Happily, Shireen made sure she was invited to spend time with them. Sometimes she accepted and spent lovely afternoons doing so. Other times, she roamed amongst the crew of the ship. She had even enjoyed chatting with Lord Seaworth's eldest son.

For the first time since leaving her beloved Sapphire Isle, she was looking forward to her time fostering.

Poor Lynna, she's trying. Also, a little update on Varys and Brienne for you.

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#94

Dacey worked furiously with Mya and Arya in the training yard. Ever since Benjen Stark informed them of Lady Stark's reason for leaving, Dacey had been furious. She had been chosen to teach the girl to protect herself from such attacks!

She had been even angrier when the new maid informed her of the circumstances surrounding the attack. At first, the maid didn't want to speak about the event, but the rumours surrounding the attack were so strong that she ordered the maid to tell her.

Oh, when Sansa returned, she was going to double down on the girl's training. What had she been thinking, going around without a guard and only a dagger? She had not planned to have her charges learn knives and daggers until they had, at the very least, finished with shields. There was also the idea of introducing Sansa and Mya to bows and arrows (Arya, as excited as she was, was still too young at this point.)

Oh, from now on, Dacey would simply go with the stubborn, naïve redhead. Obviously the girl needed reminding of how much more training she needed if she wanted to survive.

For now, she focused on Mya's form, as well as her habit of overextending her arms.

I was happy to see the site of Winterfell. Fortunately, I was deemed well enough by Maester Selwyn and ready to return.

The sight of Winterfell filled me with a sense of rightness, as though this truly was my home. It was a nice feeling.

I resisted the urge to ride ahead, as the guards on each side of me would not have been happy, nor Cat and Lord Ned. Instead, I nudged my horse forward to them, hoping to convince them to ride a bit faster.

Unfortunately, my horse hit a hole in the road and the force brought a small amount of pain to my chest. I'd been lucky enough to go without much pain, but I was warned that my ribs would remain tender for a few days. And so, with that in mind, I abandoned my plan.

Fortunately, we arrived in the courtyard in a timely manner. I was greeted by hugs from Arya and Bran, claiming they had missed me and it was wrong of me to take Father and Robb and later Mother away for so long. I grinned and told them that I didn't mean to and would do better next time.

They then clamored over to the others and Jon approached. He inspected me, his touch gentle and chastised me for being so reckless. I took it with grace and teased him a little. He smiled and went to talk to Robb.

At that point, I excused myself to take a bath and clean up for supper. Unfortunately, I still had a guard escort me, so as to "prevent any ideas." Fortunately, the guard waited outside my chambers as the bathtub was brought in and filled. Still, I was happy to be home.

Maester Luwin was happy to see the return of his favorite student, if not in the same condition she left in. He fretted and worried that the Maester at the Dreadfort did an inadequate job, but she appeared to be happy and healing fine.

At dinner that night, Sansa spoke of the lovely fields and view of the Dreadfort.

"But what happened?" Arya asked. "Surely you did more than just pick flowers."

"I also did a lot of reading. Lord Bolton's library was reasonably stocked. I also hired a new maid for Winterfell." Sansa stated cheerfully.

"Then how did you get those bruises?" Arya pushed. Everyone that had been to the Dreadfort stiffened as Sansa hesitated.

"Well, you see, I, um, I was in a field and had a rather nasty accident. A hunter thought me an animal from a distance and I got hurt moving away from the danger." Sansa looked at Lord Stark for confirmation.

The man had been relieved at that.

"I hope the children haven't given you too much trouble while we were away, Benjen." Lord Stark quickly changed the subject.

"Not at all. I am a younger man than you, after all, and was able to keep up with them without issue." Benjen smiled at that.

"Are you saying I am growing old?" Lord Stark teased.

"Of course not, big brother. All I said was that I was younger than you, which is a fact."

Yes, Maester Luwin was content with his family.

I woke early the following morning, ready to dig into the books Benjen had brought, as well as a few Lord Leech had given as an apology. He assured me that he had extra copies and was willing to part with them.

I was up and dressed in a flash, hair half-heartedly braided in my eagerness. As such, I managed to surprise the guard at my door.

"A little early, my lady?"

I smiled "Not when there are books to read before breaking my fast." I began to walk quickly, giving my guard—a man named Cregan—no choice but to follow.

The library was empty when I entered. Maester Luwin was most likely still asleep. I was too full of energy to think about it much and immediately grabbed an unfamiliar book to begin my day with.

"Please let me know when it is time to break my fast Cregan. I'm afraid I may end up too absorbed in my reading and lose track of the day."

"Of course my lady." Cregan answered dutifully.

I thanked him absently, already engrossed with the pages before me.

Jon had gone to check on Sansa. He had gotten Robb to tell him everything and he wanted to make sure she was alright. She wasn't in her room, though. He had checked the training yard, but no sign of her. He then went to the Broken Tower, but the guards informed him of her absence. Finally, he thought to check the library.

The guard standing at the door of the room gave away the answer. Understanding how Sansa could be when it came to her studies, he crept in, only to find her with her head on a book. She slept soundly, despite the odd configuration that was her body. He gave the guard a glance, who simply shrugged. He supposed it made sense, the man's job was to protect her and keep her from running off into danger. Her sleeping in the library was not exactly dangerous, unless one was afraid of papercuts.

So, Jon walked to the rookery where he knew a spare fur had been stowed away for colder days and grabbed it. He was just about to walk back to the library when he noticed a new raven at the window.

He went and grabbed the parchment from the raven, guiding it over to the food bowl for it to recover. He would give his father the missive later in the day. Right now, he walked back to the library and covered Sansa with the soft fur.

Alright, my SI is home and has to deal with more people being caring and protective. Also, a little brotherly Jon! I also have a bad habit of falling asleep in weird positions and locations and have done this on days when I thought I was accidentally a morning person for once. So, a little comedy to lighten the angst fest that has been the last few chapters. So, good night, everybody!

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#99

"My lady? My lady, tis time to break your fast." An arm shook her as she was pulled from her dream.

"Uggfunnitch" I mumbled, not wanting to wake.

The arm shook me again as I reluctantly sat up. I was a little sore, but not as much as I had expected from my crash. The perks of being seven, I suppose. I folded the fur that I did not remember having and placed it by Luwin's desk. I then straightened my dress and began walking to the smells of a hot breakfast.

"Good morning Sansa." Lord Ned greeted, patting me on the head as I sat down.

"Good morning Father, Mother." I returned.

I then greeted the rest of the table as I fixed a plate. Breakfast was cheerful as we ate.

"I trust you slept well?" Lord Ned asked, still worried about my health.

"I did. Though, I wanted to get an early start on the day and accidentally fell asleep in the library." I blushed.

Lord Ned chuckled at that. "Let us not have you make that a habit, shall we?"

"Of course Father. Though, I did wake to find a fur on me, so perhaps someone would like me to make it one." I teased.

"I did that, Sansa." Jon admitted. "I went looking for you and found you asleep in the library. I didn't want you to catch a chill, so I grabbed a spare fur." He looked down as he said the words. Oh dear, despite my better treatment of him, he was still feeling like a redheaded step-child, as my mom was so fond of saying.

"Thank you Jon. I was kept quite warm." I assured him and grabbed his hand to squeeze.

"That reminds me, Father" he turned to address Lord Ned "when I was collecting the fur, I came across a newly arrived raven. I grabbed the letter for you." He dutifully handed over the parchment.

"Thank you Jon. Perhaps we may add working in the rookery to your day." Lord Ned teased, taking the parchment with good grace. "Hmm, a royal seal. Let's see. Ah. I have some news children, Cat. It appears the King is coming to Winterfell"

Wait, what!?

I'm sure there was more said after that, but I didn't hear it. Instead, I couldn't help but feel an infinite loop in my brain of how Bobby B was coming early.

Catelyn frowned as she took note of the food stores. While they had recovered from the Lords' Meeting, as it was becoming known, they would need to increase the amount by at least double, given how many were likely to be accompanying the King. She gave orders to have orders placed for Wintertown and the other nearby villages, as well as sending for delicacies from White Harbor.

It would take at least a week before she could imagine seeing an end to the preparations!

The thought made her feel a bit queasy.

She excused herself to sit until it passed. Perhaps she was becoming ill?

She would have to do her best to get as much done while she could, as well as ensure Sansa would be able to learn enough to allow the work to come together.

For now, though, she rose and got back to work. A Lady's duties are never done.

"If you were fine enough to ride a horse, you're fine enough to practice." Dacey told Sansa. The girl looked as though she had been treated rather roughly, but any sympathy she might have had was gone when she remembered what that maid told her. "Besides, given your recent experience in battle, we wouldn't want you to get out of shape, would we?" Dacey's voice grew low, as she knew Lord Stark did not want his younger daughter to be made aware of Sansa's stupidity, lest she try the same (although Lord Stark phrased it much nicer.)

And so, they practiced with the shield. She had told the others that she had wanted to spend the entire training session with Sansa as she had already missed so much. So none of the others moved to take Sansa's spot as she was soundly defeated.

"Dead" She stated to the girl.

"Dead." Again.

"Dead" Again.

"Dead." Again.

Not only had the girl fallen behind on her training, she was also heavily distracted.

"Whatever's been going on in your head is not here. Your enemy won't care that you're preoccupied. Now, focus!" Dacey ordered as she began the fight.

Fortunately, Sansa was able to focus in the fight and did a little better. But they still had a long way to go.

I laid in bed, exhausted and sore. Dacey had decided we were to double my training time and so had us practice after dinner. She was at least careful not to aggravate my tender ribs, but I had fallen behind in my progress and was occupied with the idea of the King arriving. The message had been sent by Jon Arryn, so he was still alive. Then why was Bobby B coming to Winterfell so damn early?

The only thing that has changed enough for an alteration like this was either Mya (though not likely, given Bobby B's previous treatment) or the dragon eggs.

Okay, I would have to work out a new plan. One that doesn't involve me eviscerating Joffrey as he enters Winterfell. Hopefully. (I'd like to keep my head for now, thank you very much.)

I would have to plan carefully, make the right comments, act the part of an innocent seven-year-old.

I could do it.

I could…

So the North finally knows King and Co. are arriving. My SI settles back into routine and Dacey follows through.

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Steampunkunicorn

Jun 3, 2018

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#109

Arya hated secrets.

She didn't like it when they were hidden from her.

Since Father and Sansa and Robb returned from the Dreadfort, she could feel their secrets.

Like why Sansa had to have a guard everywhere.

Or why that new maid came with the guards.

Or why Dacey began reminding her of the dangers beyond Winterfell. She wasn't an idiot!

But she had a secret of her own. She had planned to tell her family, truly. But if they were to keep secrets from her, she would keep her own. She cuddled her egg. It was hers only. It called to her. She could hear it in her sleep.

She just had to figure out how to hatch it. Like she had seen with some of the chickens they kept.

She knew that when she cut her hand finding it affected it. The red tint didn't go away no matter what had been tried. And so, she experimented. She tried to add more blood, but it wiped away. She had put the egg in the snow, in the fire, and even placed it by her window during the full moon.

Nothing worked.

Still, every night she heard the egg. She had taken to sleeping with it. She dreamed of flying over Winterfell to the sea and beyond.

She hoped one day her dreams would come true.

Arya the Dragon Rider sounded quite fine to her.

Mya sent the raven with great trepidation.

She loved Mychel more than anything. But it is obvious he didn't feel the same. His letters had become shorter and more distant. Perhaps he was regretting her and his hasty promises. She didn't know, but he was too far away for her to ask and she had little intention of returning to the Vale for a while.

She enjoyed Winterfell. She liked her life as it was. She wasn't the same girl that had fallen in love with a squire. And so, she released him from any promises and burned his letters. It was best to start clean.

She had felt so angry and so heartbroken and now she just felt numb. If this was what love was, then she was fine without it. She would focus on her training and helping where she could. Perhaps if she learned to run a household, she could find a situation, one that didn't leave her with the pain.

"Mya?" Jon interrupted her thoughts as she watched the raven fly. "Sansa's looking for you. She wants your advice on something." Jon told her.

She smiled at him. "Thank you Jon. I'll get to it then." Mya left the rookery and her tears behind.

I blinked, the words of the tome I was researching blurred in front of me. I was so tired. Between training and helping Catelyn and lessons, I was having trouble thinking most days. Surely I could just rest for a moment…

"You know you shouldn't sleep in the library." Luwin's voice jerked me awake.

"Of course, I was just…thinking about this passage. I wouldn't fall asleep in the library, again." I stated innocently.

"Of course. Now, what has you thinking so deeply?"

"I have been searching for references to Ice Dragon Lore and why the direwolf is our sigil instead. I've found references to wargs and skinchangers in relation to both animals, but nothing substantive. I think I need to learn the Old Tongue." I answered truthfully. "I only know a little and if I am to study further on the subject, I need to read the older books."

"Perhaps after the King's visit. Right now, you are barely awake. I cannot imagine adding to your current load would make any improvement to that condition." Luwin scolded me.

I pouted. "I need to further my research." Perhaps I could have convinced Dacey to allow us to disperse with the private second training we had? I had been advancing well enough?

"We will discuss this after you've had a nap. Now, Harl will escort you to your room and wake you when it is time for dinner."

I sent a small glare at the man, but complied. Maybe a nap wouldn't hurt.

Brienne enjoyed the sea. It was brisk and sharp and left a tang of salt on her lips. During her time on the ship, however, she grew tired of such things. Normally, she could escape it in the keep on Tarth, far enough from the sea to forget a person was on an island.

On a ship, it could not be escaped. Dale Seaworth and Shireen did their best to distract her, but she was getting antsy and missed land.

While it might have made the voyage shorter, it was a less preferable way to travel.

"M'lady?" Dale interrupted her ruminations.

"Yes, Young Seaworth?" She curtsied in her dress, making a rather awkward display. Still, Seaworth never minded her lacking attributes as a woman.

"I've been with my father, Ser Davos, and I mentioned that you hail from Tarth and he had this." He thrust his hand forward and presented her with a package. Unwrapping the cloth, she found a carved piece of wood. The wood was carved to have an image of a star on it.

"Evenstar" she murmured. She looked up at him.

Though not conventionally handsome, he had a kind smile. "Yes, my father carved it after his first trip there after Lord Stannis promised my family a keep. We thought it might cheer you until we arrive at White Harbor."

She couldn't help but smile back.

un 3, 2018

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#110

I was sad to see Benjen go. Though I had not been able to spend much time with him, between traveling and healing and the busy life my return had brought, I felt closer to him than I had most of my Uncles and Aunts that had disappointed my old life.

And so, I gave him the best hug I could when we said our goodbyes. I promised to take care of the books for Maester Aemon and begged for him to write us when he got back to the Wall.

Arya and Jon joined my begging and he assured us he would send a raven before even washing.

We yelled after him and watched as his horse disappeared from our sight.

Then, life returned to normal.

I returned to the training yard.

I returned to my studies.

I was helping Catelyn more and more. She had been getting more tired. And so, I did my best to handle some of her duties, as well. Fortunately, Mya was willing to help her with some of those duties.

I began feeling run down, but I still pushed myself. I worked hard and advanced in my training to wooden swords and lasted longer than ever with the shield.

I also spent less time on my research than I wanted, but I tried when I could, often waking early and burning candles in the evening to read more and more.

It got to the point that I stopped dreaming.

It got to the point that I was having trouble keeping the day straight.

It had gotten to where I had to do my best to deal and make it through each day.

It wasn't until a fortnight after Benjen left that there was a change in our routine.

"Children, as you know, I have not been feeling well." Catelyn began. "Maester Luwin has recently found the reason."

"Are you sick, Mother?" Little Bran asked, his eyes wide at the thought.

"No, indeed, it is rather good news. I am to give you a younger brother or sister." She told him gently.

I thought about it and the timing seemed right for Rickon. I congratulated her and told her I wouldn't have minded another brother.

"Now, as such, I may not be able to attend to my duties. And while you have done wonderfully, Sansa, Mya, Lord Stark has arranged for me to have some help."

"That is wonderful." Mya stated, but her smile seemed a bit forced. "I hope that I might still be of use, Lady Stark."

"I see no problem with that, so long as you do not overextend yourself." Lord Ned said. "Sansa, however, you will be restricted for now. Maester Luwin has been concerned for your health and I agreed to his suggestion that you need more sleep. As such, you will continue your day as you had before we left for the Dreadfort. After all, you are only seven name days." He gave me a look that brooked no protest.

Not that I would. If anything, I felt relief. I had felt the depression I had struggled with creeping up on me and I had no supplements or antidepressants to help with the worst of it.

I swore to him that I would do my best and I promised not to get sick, for worry of the babe.

I slept peacefully that night.

Jon played with Arya. While Uncle Benjen had been there, he had taught them several games he had learned at the Wall to pass the time. Since the recruits came from everywhere in the Seven Kingdoms, there was a variety, from clapping games to word games, to silly songs.

Arya loved learning them.

"When I'm grown, I will visit all of the Seven Kingdoms and beyond." She proclaimed as she beat him at a skipping and jumping game.

"And what if you marry?" Jon asked, rubbing his arm. He would more than likely bruise from that fall.

"Then my husband will go with me, stupid." She stated like it was obvious. "Any man stupid enough to marry me will know before we wed that I want to travel. If they won't, I won't marry them."

"Will they have to beat you on the training field as well?" Wondering what kind of man would be lucky enough to take Arya on her adventures.

"Perhaps, but only if they think they could take me on." Arya said thoughtfully. "And then I'll prove how wrong they are."

They had stopped playing at that point and began walking into the Godswood. With how busy Winterfell was, the Godswood was a place of peace for them.

"I'm so glad Sansa started telling stories again." Arya piped up. "She was gone forever and when she got back, she couldn't tell stories because it hurt her throat. But she told us a story today." Arya informed him. As he and Robb only attended twice a week, he had missed the story.

"And what was it about?"

"It was about a girl that was training to be a witch. She had to travel when she became of age. This was done so she could discover her special witch power. She ended up in a city and worked as a delivery girl and fell in love with a boy that wanted to fly. He fell in love with her because she used a broom to fly."

"I will admit, I've never heard of using a broom for that." Jon chuckled.

"Oh look! There's the weirtree. Shall we pray?" Arya pointed.

"It has been a while. Perhaps we can ask the Old Gods about your Ice Dragon?" He teased, having helped her on a few occasions.

Fortunately, Arya had her egg with her and huffily marched towards the tree. At least, until she fell forwards. Jon ran to help her.

"I'm fine." She whined. "I'm fine."

"Your hands are scratched up. We should clean them." Jon shook his head.

"It can wait for us to pray first, since we're closer to the tree than the water." She said determinedly, jutting out her chin in a fashion similar to her Lady Mother.

"Very well, but we go straight there after praying." He was firm.

"I promise." And with that, Arya knelt and placed a hand on the tree, the other cuddling her egg.

Jon knelt as well, preparing to ask the Old Gods for safety and health of his family.

Which is why he was in a perfect position to catch Arya as her eyes rolled back and she fainted.

Ned was worried. At first, it had been Sansa. Then, it had been Cat's tiredness and nausea. He tried to have her speak to Luwin, but she had been so busy with preparations for the King's arrival. Then, Sansa had been getting little sleep, trying to do everything. Now, it was Arya.

His sweet little Arya, who looked so much like his dear, departed sister. She had been doing better, more willing to listen to her mother, fewer fights with her siblings, and taking an active interest in the world around her.

But now…

She had been unconscious at the Gods tree and Jon had carried her back.

That had been two days before.

They each took a turn, sitting with her. Bran had even brought her dragon egg, abandoned in the Godswood, in case it may have helped.

But nothing did.

Ned just had to wait.

Yeah, dealing with depression is never fun.

Also, some Jon and Arya time and Sansa may not be the only one touched by the Old Gods.

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Steampunkunicorn

Jun 3, 2018

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#112

Arya didn't know where she was or how she got there. How long had she even been there?

She was standing in a dress made of leaves, much like how Sansa told her Petyr Pan looked. She wondered if she could fly. She thought a happy thought and waited.

Nothing.

Sighing, she observed her surroundings. In front of her was a gigantic scale. On one side, a weirwood tree, far grander than any she had ever seen, with multiple faces carved into the bark. On the other side, a raven as big as her, with three eyes, using feathered wings to hold a myriad of strings.

"You're not the one we needed. Where's the other girl?" A voice asked her.

"I…I—do you mean Sansa?"

"The other Stark, the one with fire." The voice confirmed.

"She's back at Winterfell. She hasn't had time to be out of the keep."

"Then why were you in the Godswood?" Another voice asked, curiosity-laden.

"I'm too little to be of much help. I was out playing with Jon. Where is he? Is he alright?" She suddenly feared something may have happened to him.

"He did not connect to us. He is likely still in Winterfell." An airier voice told her.

"Though she is not the one we wanted, she may still be useful." The first voice stated.

"We are going to ask you questions. You will answer truthfully. You would not like to lie to us." The voice seeped into the marrow of her bones. She suddenly knew who she was talking to—the Old Gods.

I scooped small sips of broth into Arya's mouth. I chose to take my watch over her at dinner. It made things easier.

Oh, how I wish we had an IV for her! Five days now and she was beginning to thin. Her body was still responding, swallowing liquids. But there was no other indication of life within her besides the body's natural responses.

Lynna had taken to watching over me and helping deal with any messes Arya created. She had also made good company, bringing me books to research and read aloud to Arya.

I made sure to focus one everything I could find about Ice Dragons, every tale that even hinted at them.

All in the hope that she would so much as twitch in response.

There wasn't any.

Still, I kept at it. I found out more stories about Ice Dragons than even Nan may have known.

When I wasn't with her, I kept a mostly normal routine, as I had promised Lord Ned. I may have spent more time with Maester Luwin, learning the Old Tongue, than I promised, but it was to translate the older books and find an answer, any answer, for the never-ending questions the Starks and I had.

As I finished scooping the broth into Arya's pale mouth, a tear rolled down my cheek. It was the only sign of the flood of tears we felt.

Arya was confused. Some of the questions were odd to her. Why should it matter who had died at the Dreadfort. (She told them she didn't even know there was a death there.)

"Has Ice been recovered?"

"Yes."

"And the book about the process of forging it read?"

"No, Sansa or Maester Luwin would have told us about it by now."

"Have you heard any unusual tales from her?" A voice coming from the raven asked.

"She has."

"Quiet Rivers, you're only here as a curtesy."

"Has she told you where those stories came from?" Rivers continued, undeterred.

"No." Arya was wondering what that had to do with the other questions.

"We warned you, Three-eyes." With that, the Raven and the scale were gone. Only the weirwood remained.

"We apologize for him. He was meant to be an observer."

"Why was he asking those things? What happened to Sansa with her fever?"

"That is a complicated story, child." One of the voices told her kindly.

Arya wasn't having it. "Then uncomplicate it and tell me. Or I won't answer any more questions."

"Very well. When your sister had her fever, she almost died. As such, her spirit was brought forward to us. We saw it as an opportunity." The airy voice told her.

"What do you mean?"

"For centuries, we have been restricted from directly interfering. As such, the tools needed to survive the Long Night were forgotten. We are forbidden from telling them, as it would have been a direct interference. And so, we sought the soul of a researcher, one who had some of the tools and could find the rest. We mingled their spirits."

"So, Sansa is gone?" Arya began to cry at that.

"No, she is still within. The spirit is too strong to be destroyed. And so, we took an echo of the researcher and Sansa has been working with them. Eventually, the echo and Sansa will be completely mixed, but it is still your sister." The curious voice told her with the gentleness of her mother.

"Who is the researcher?"

"A woman, grown but lost. She has experienced loss early in life and come out stronger for it. Her own mind worked against her, but she kept herself sane. She has faced hardship, though nothing compared to Westeros. She prefers to live her life within a book. She also has a deep, compassionate heart and a stubbornness that makes her the person we chose."

An image appeared. It began with a babe, newborn and given to an older couple by a strange person in an odd outfit. The image shifted to a little girl with short, brown hair and no shoes, running wild in the grass. It shifted again to an older girl, about Robb's age, crying and begging to not awake the next day. It shifted again to a young woman, dancing with a young man in a brightly lit, white hall as people walked around them. It shifted to her trying not to cry in front of an elderly woman, comforting her father and holding him upright. It shifted to her being held up by her father, crying over the dead body of the young man she danced with. It shifted to some kind of ceremony, where she smiled and hugged as many as she could, sneaking reading a book in-between. It shifted to her putting a rose on her father's dead body, along with three women old enough to be her mother.

"That is the researcher." The voice concluded.

It felt like she had been there for weeks, answering every question the Old Gods could think of, asking about details concerning the smallest actions.

Finally, it was over.

"We thank you for your help, Arya Stark." The voice that asked most of the questions said.

"If you should ever need to contact us, simply place an open wound upon the weirwood." Another voice stated.

"Though do try to limit it to emergencies. We have gotten used to our followers no longer using blood in their worship and do not care for sudden interruptions in our peace." The airy voice said.

"Now, before we send you back, we will allow you one more question, as a boon. So long as it is within our abilities, of course." The first voice said.

Arya thought for a moment. There were so many things she wanted to know. She had to ask something that was not about surviving the Long Night, but that would still be helpful. In an instant, Arya knew what to ask.

"How do I hatch an Ice Dragon Egg?"

Lady Catelyn sat in the plush chair her husband insisted on moving into Arya's room for her. She had just fed the fire and was ready to watch her younger daughter for any sign of recovery.

Unfortunately, pregnancy affected her more when she was worried and she fell asleep.

She was only woken by the sound of a gasp. She opened her eyes to see Arya sitting up.

"Arya!" She cried and moved to scoop her daughter into her arms. "Oh, my dear girl."

"Hello Mother. What did I miss?"

So, last one for the night. In my mind, the Old Gods are like the Ascended in Stargate. They have ultimate power, but cannot directly interfere (though the ones that actually give a damn use the loopholes when they can.) Unfortunately, they are not quite omnipotent and influenced enough to try to get a status report. Also, when dealing with the matter of souls, I tried to balance Sansa and myself. As such, an echo was the perfect compromise (especially concerning real life worries.)

Last edited: Jun 4, 2018

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Steampunkunicorn

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#117

I was training with Dacey and Mya when I heard the news.

We dropped our wooden swords as if they were on fire and ran to Arya's chambers, my guard doing his best to keep up with us.

We practically fell into a pile opening the door, much like how I remembered happened in the Hobbit. From the top of the pile, I cried "Arya!" in utter joy.

I managed to wiggle away from the other two and jumped onto the bed, tackling her.

"I can't breathe." She stated.

"Sorry! We've just been so worried." My face reflected the utter despair we had felt during this time.

"I'm perfectly alright. I promise." She took my hand and looked at me with an understanding I was somehow missing.

Lord Ned entered shortly after, along with Robb and Jon. Bran had come in at some point and was curled into Mya's lap.

"Now that we are all here," Lord Ned stated once things began to calm, "you can tell us what happened my dear girl. Jon told us that you fell unconscious in the Godswood. What do you remember?"

Arya looked thoughtful for a moment. "I remember playing a game with Jon, one Nuncle taught us. I had soundly beat him and we were walking through the trees. I wanted to pray, as it had been a while. I tripped and Jon helped me up. He wanted to clean my hands but I thought we could pray first and I convinced him. I settled into position and" at this point, Arya turned to look straight at me "I spoke to the Old Gods."

Wait, what?

Robb watched his sisters in amazement. The both of them had been fortunate enough to have such a connection to the North, and at such a young age. Sansa had been given a vision that had led to so much change. What would the future hold for Arya, who claimed she had spoken to them directly?

His father had already been receiving betrothal offers by the day for Sansa from the Northern Lords, as well as the houses that kept to the Old Gods further South as the news spread. He could easily imagine the offers doubled when news leaked concerning Arya. Between them, they would never be considered too Southern.

He had known his mother's worries concerning Jon looking more Stark than he did. He was also aware of the whispers that emerged at the Lords' Meeting about how much of his Mother was in him. So, to have been passed over by the Old Gods made him worry.

He watched the sisters talk in hushed voices, a myriad of expressions, ending with them crying into each other's arms. He could only hope that the Gods might favor him in such a way before they would Jon.

As much as he loved his half-brother, he didn't know if the Lords would fulfill his mother's worries. He glanced at her, resting in the plush chair, worn from the day's events. When she awoke, the family would likely be shooed out of the room. And so, he sat there and enjoyed his family.

"Will you tell me another story about the researcher's land?" Arya asked me that night.

To find out the Old Gods were real was something I should have expected. Aside from R'hllor, the Old Gods were the only ones that showed signs of maybe existing, if I remembered right. To find out Arya found out just how much had been changed within her big sister was a worry. I feared she might have proclaimed me an imposter, but she told me what the Gods had told her.

So, I truly would be Sansa by the end. The woman I used to be was still out there living her life. I didn't know whether to be relieved or cry, but Arya just laughed. And so, when we went to her room to speak privately, she begged to know stories of that world.

"Well, as you know, she was born later in her mother's life than was wanted. As such, the researcher was doted upon. She was given every scrap of affection. Her parents read stories to her every night. They began early, and the girl learned to read so quickly, she would read to them. Then, the stories stopped for a little while, as they had read every story the girl had in her little library. When she was seven name days, she realised that she missed being told stories. And so, one night, she marched in on her mother in their bathtub and demanded a story." I couldn't help but chuckle at the memory. Oh, how I could perfectly imagine my mom and the grin when I persuaded her to tell me stories.

"What happened?"

"The mother laughed and told her she missed telling the girl stories. And so, that began a nightly ritual of the girl walking in on her mother's bath and being told a new story each night. Her mother created a specific character, a girl named Jelly Belly. The girl was enchanted by the character and her adventures." A fond smile formed across my face.

"Why was she named Jelly Belly?"

"The girl's mother told her that it was because when Jelly Belly was a girl, her stomach moved like a bowl full of jelly." I tickled Arya's stomach as I said that.

"One more thing," Arya said as she calmed down from the tickles.

"What?"

"What is jelly?"

I've got a busy day today, so there will be less updates compared to the rest of the time. Enjoy, though.

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Steampunkunicorn

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#120

I checked my surroundings. Fortunately, the coast was clear. I motioned for Arya to move. I knew we were going to be punished later, but I had to slip my guard for the plan to work.

Arya had smuggled the knife out of the Broken Tower and we waited for a new moon. Tonight, I had to grab an egg. My guard would have considered what we were doing as dangerous and reported to Lord Ned. We had to see if this would have worked first.

I watched Arya grab my favorite, the one with the swirls, and return to the shadows I was hiding in. Nobody saw us.

We walked down to the heated pools that kept Winterfell so warm, our cloaks fastened as we felt the bite of the evening weather.

Things were going to perfect.

If I had learned one thing from gaining my scar and bruises, it was that things were not going to be perfect, either while or after the plan.

And such had been proven when a cleared throat alerted us to this.

We turned around, hiding our eggs inside the cloaks.

Robb was standing there, looking at us with a raised eyebrow.

"What are you doing?" He asked, just as casually as if he'd been talking about the weather.

"We're getting dragons!" Arya whispered excitedly.

Robb's face became unreadable.

"When Arya talked to the Old Gods, they allowed her a question. She asked how to hatch the eggs." I told him, hoping that would settle it.

Robb continued to look at us.

"We have to do it tonight. And Father may have stopped us." Arya pouted.

"He would be right to have stopped you. However, it seems that you are determined, so I will be your guard. At least this way, I can be sure you will come to no harm." Robb grabbed a torch and then moved to join them.

They walked in silence.

Robb watched as Sansa cut her arm with a knife made out of the odd metal the original Ice contained. She spread it carefully, following the swirled pattern of her egg, the silver sparking against the fire his torch contained.

He wanted to think this to be foolishness, but Arya had spoken to the Old Gods. Surely they would not have fooled her, nor would she make up such information. Arya had been too obsessed with her egg to do so.

After watching the shell absorb the blood, he noticed it became another swirl in the pattern. Odd, Arya's simply spread a tint on the shell evenly.

After cleaning the cut and wrapping it with a bandage, Robb turned as his sisters stripped their nightgowns off and entered the pool. Once Sansa told him to, he turned, ready to protect them from themselves.

Fortunately, save for Bran, all of the Stark children had become excellent swimmers. His Lady Mother would take them out to the pools and taught them (though Jon learned by watching Robb learn, hidden in a nearby bush.)

He watched as Arya said something in the Old Tongue. He was confused, he didn't remember her learning it yet. Sansa repeated Arya's words and they took deep breaths before submerging themselves into the water. He peered into the pool, hoping to see what had occurred. But it was too dark, and they were too deep.

He was so transfixed that he was amazed when the pool froze over with a barely perceptible layer of ice.

He backed away as it broke, the water bubbling and smashing the ice with abandon.

He waited, hoping to see his sisters safe. He restrained himself from jumping into the water and grabbing them, as he did not know if it would affect what they were doing and hurt them.

He waited, watching the pool as torch burned away. It was nearly extinguished when his sisters finally emerged, naked, wet, and holding a miniature white dragon in each set of arms.

Lord Eddard Stark had been fortunate enough to awaken early and was thus able to work diligently and in peace. He had finished negotiation with the Reach. While he was unsure of what a Maester from the Reach knew about the North's soil than a Northern Maester, he did not want to leave anything to chance.

He set aside another betrothal for Sansa, this one being for Lord Bolton's living son. Lord Bolton explained that, given the circumstances of their last meeting, he had been hesitant to press a suit. However, he had offered more than generous terms. Still, Ned would worry about it another day. Sansa was still too young for a betrothal.

Perhaps he could discuss the idea with Cat once Winterfell began to calm. They would at least be able to gain a few days of peace before the King arrived.

After reviewing his missives, he turned to reading about the taxes collected so far this year. The weather had been fair to the North and he had received taxes that reflected that, being slightly higher than the year before. With the extra income, they might be able to recover from the Lords' Meeting and the King's Arrival sooner than he had previously thought.

And so continued his morning until Harl, the guard that had been assigned Sansa for that day arrived in his solar.

"My lord," the man bowed "I am afraid your daughters and your eldest son snuck out of Winterfell last night. They had done so at Lady Arya's instructions."

"Why would they do so?" Perhaps it had to do with their interaction with the Old Gods? Did something happen?

"They have performed a miracle, my lord. They have ice dragons." Harl told him in wonder.

Ned put his head in his hands, wondering what would happen next.

Shireen was quite happy. The last few weeks had been spent in more company than she was used to. Brienne had come to Dragonstone with her pretty blue eyes and willingness to spend time with her. She began to think of her as an older sister. Then, she was able to spend time with Myrcella and Tommen without Joffrey around to spoil their fun. They had even found a cat aboard the ship to play with. (Tommen was quite happy at that.)

She also was able to spend more time with her Father and Uncle Robert, as they were on the ship with her. Father had done his best, but he was always going between Dragonstone and King's Landing and did not want to disrupt her life too much. (Though she had to look the word 'disrupt' up and argued that it wouldn't do so. It didn't work.)

Her father made it up to her, having dinner with her, brushing her hair at night while she talked about what she had done that day, and tucking her into her cot with a story on his lips. She wished it would never end.

She also got to see a story come to life. While she knew Ser Davos's younger children better, Dale was a kind and capable man. He was more like his father, from his accent to the coarseness of his hands. He was also falling in love with Brienne, she was sure. She had seen an image of a couple in love in a book once and she was sure Dale looked at Brienne like that.

So, she had tried to have them meet whenever she could. Luckily, they already talked a lot, so she only had to spend more time with Myrcella and Tommen and chasing away people that might interrupt her friends.

One day, when they were within sight of White Harbor, Shireen decided that she had to help them. (They weren't even kissing yet!)

And so, with all of the subtlety and nuance of a girl of five name days, she went over to them. She told them how the sky had such a pretty white comet and wouldn't it make just the nicest image to kiss in front of?

Shireen is adorable. Also, I just knew that I wanted to write the dragon scene as soon as I could.

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Steampunkunicorn

Jun 4, 2018

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#130

I couldn't help but coo at the sight before me. While I had only ever been a casual fan of dragons, mine seemed downright beautiful. I stroked her back as I watched her eat a mixture of cooked meat and cream. (At least, I hoped it was a her. According to the research, I wouldn't know for sure until she was at least a year old.)

While Arya didn't coo, she had a small smile on her face, enchanted by her own.

We heard the kitchen staff whisper as we sat there. I gave them a few looks, but mostly let them be. Besides, what a sight we had made!

The fire from the kitchen warmed and dried us, but the dragons didn't disappear.

With a little burp, my dragon finished eating and curled into my hand, hoping I would continue my affection. I had no reason to disagree and continued to do so.

I'd always preferred my fur babies over those with scales, but as I stroked my dragon (dear God did that sound weird) I felt a near cool smoothness of texture and an almost purr-like reverberation. I wanted to smother her with affection and she had no objections.

"You've barely touched your food." Robb interrupted my bonding.

I rolled my eyes and grabbed a roll with my unoccupied hand, gesturing to Robb. Arya had attempted to eat and missed her mouth, the porridge hitting her cheek instead.

Robb went over and cleaned her cheek.

We finished our breakfasts and left the kitchens to return to our chambers to prepare for the day when Lord Ned approached us.

Viserys looked out the window of the Myrish house Dany and him were welcomed into. The master of the House had been sympathetic to him and his sister. They had apparently done some trading with his father and were willing to provide them shelter for a few days.

While they could not stay forever, it was a nice reprieve from their troubles.

He heard Dany shift in her sleep and looked over to her. He insisted they share a room. It had first began when they could not find adequate shelter and shared a bed when they were lucky. Now, even when there were beds aplenty, Dany complained when he was too far away.

She was growing. There were hints of the woman she would become. He had to only hope they would make it to that point. As it was, he had been tempted more than once to sell his mother's crown for food. Who knew how long it would be before he had to lose that last gift from his mother just to survive?

He looked back out the window, seeing a white comet in the early morning sky. Surely it was a sign that their lives might get better?

He could only hope.

Dale Seaworth stayed behind to help secure the ship as the King's party was escorted to New Castle and the Merman's Hall. He tried his best to focus on his duty, wanting to forget the humiliating experience little Shireen forced him into.

"Something on your mind, son?" Ser Davos interrupted his son's thoughts.

"Why did you want to become a lord?" He asked his father.

"I wanted the best for you and your brothers. I wanted you to have a better life than that of bowls of brown and the stink of Flea Bottom." Davos answered his son candidly.

"I was apprenticed, I could have had a decent life." Dale retorted. "I could have lived my entire life in King's Landing and known my place and not get any ideas I shouldn't have had in the first place."

"This about the Lady Brienne?" Davos asked his son, his voice softening.

"I'm the son of a smuggler that smuggled for a good man in a good position. She's the daughter of a proud and established line. She's above me in rank and is able to do far better than me." Dale turned to his father, wanting him to see the pain Dale felt. Why did he have to be given these ideas? Why couldn't he let them go?

"You're the son of a landed knight. You know how to read and run your land. She could do far worse than you. What's brought this on, anyway?"

"Shireen." He sighed. "She decided we to tell us we needed to kiss and now Brienne's been avoiding me. I think she made her interests clear." With that, Dale went to check the rigging.

"You know, your mother hates being a lady?" Davos asked after a minute. "She tells me from time to time. She feels useless half the time and at odds with what she learned growing up the other half. But she tells me that she knows it is worth it, for you and your brothers. So, she sometimes puts on her old clothes and walks down to talk to the people in our lands. She helps them with their work. She brings food for those that need it. She found a way to be happy and use her new life to do some good. From what I've seen, the Lady Brienne isn't the type to be a normal lady either. Maybe she just doesn't know how to find her way to happiness?" Davos asked his son.

Dale ignored the tattoo of his heartbeat as he thought about his father's words.

So, after I finally cleared some time to write, I did the thing and fell asleep in a weird position and at an odd time (curse my tiredness today!) As such, I'm still not fully awake and this was all I could bang out for now. Enjoy!

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Steampunkunicorn

Jun 5, 2018

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#136

Jon had a dragon on each shoulder as he watched his sisters train, wooden swords thudding with each hit to the other. They had finished practicing with the shield and the shield-and-sword combination. Dacey watched them carefully, ready to point out the problems and bad habits so as to prevent them in the future.

Jon had admired Lady Dacey's approach to his sisters. She had a more frank approach, focusing on defense and sneak attacks that the Master-at-Arms didn't emphasise. She was also quicker to move, flitting in and out of spots as if by magic and had been teaching his sisters to do the same.

"No, you can't eat Jon's hair," Mya scolded Arya's dragon from his left "no matter how pretty it is."

"You think my hair is pretty?" Jon asked in a slightly teasing manner.

"It puts mine to shame. If I had yours, I would be tempted to grow it out." She began to pet Arya's dragon, letting it nip at her fingers.

"I think your hair is pretty." Jon told her. He managed to do so without blushing, which was an improvement. "It should be grown out, but only if you want to." He added.

Mya laughed her beautiful laugh. "I thank you Jon. You know just how to cheer me up."

He did blush then and turned to watch the fight so she didn't see. As he watched Sansa beat Arya, he couldn't help but smile. Though a lot may have changed in the almost year since Sansa's fever, he would not want to go back to how things had been before.

Sansa's dragon butted its head against him, as if it knew his thoughts.

Robb walked through the Godswood. He was a man with a mission. He knew he needed to try to communicate with the Old Gods. Who knows what they could tell him?

And so, he knelt at the weirwood, his hands opened and placed upon the bark, and waited.

And waited.

Nothing had happened.

What was he doing wrong? He tried to think back to what happened with Arya. She and Jon had been playing and then she wanted to pray. She had her dragon egg in one hand…

That was it!

Robb raced back to Winterfell, hoping to grab the egg that had been found with the original Ice.

It sparkled in its simplicity. It was nearly completely white, with a pool of silver on the bottom.

He carried it carefully back to the Godswood and placed it in front of the tree. He placed one hand on the egg and the other in the spot on the tree he had tried before.

He waited, hoping something would happen.

After a half-hour and a simple prayer, Robb gave up. He would have to ask Arya about what he needed to do.

Theon strung his bow, wanting to focus on something productive. The last year had felt like that, if he were honest. At times, he was encouraged to be part of the family. At others, he knew he was watched. The guards weren't subtle (or, at least, if they were, that had changed in the last few months.)

He enjoyed the stories Sansa told, but was surprised when she encouraged him to join them. Lord Stark had taken to having talks with him, as well as Jon and Robb, though the three had come to an unspoken agreement that what Lord Stark said to each of them during their individual discussions was private.

He had been roped into helping with schemes, such as that time with Arya when she was still looking for an egg. And now, there had been confirmed proof of the Old Gods.

Yet, there was still the feeling he had of being an outsider. He knew he was a hostage, but Lord Stark had treated him far better than many would have.

Giving up on his bow, Theon ran his fingers through his hair. Why did things have to be so complicated? Perhaps he had been away from home for too long. He thought he might send a letter to his sister. Asha was still living and was less likely to judge him than his father would.

With that decided, Theon went to his chambers to begin his letter.

King Robert was enjoying himself. The ride on the ship was faster than he had expected and had good meat and strong ale to last them. He had to deal with Stannis, but the two of them had some peaceful moments (mainly when spent with Myrcella and Shireen.) The rest of the time, the king was happy to tell stories to the sailors, who talked about their own adventures in return. Gods, how it made him want to give up the crown and see the world!

In truth, he had been feeling happier since leaving the pile of shit that was the capital. He felt lighter, freer, and more in control. If he wanted to spend the day sparring on deck, he could.

Now that they arrived in White Harbor, however, he was ready to pull his hair out.

"And so, your grace, we've gained such marble from Tarth and have used it to highlight the natural beauty…" The fat merman droned. Gods, he didn't give a shit. Unfortunately, Stannis was there, reminding him that Jon Arryn would be upset if he managed to piss of the wrong House.

Stannis needed the stick removed from his arse.

"So, what do you know about Ned's eggs?" Robert cut the merman off, wanting to actually hear something of interest.

"Your Grace, they are some of the most beautiful items I have ever seen. Truly, I have heard of the legends of Ice Dragons, but to know that the elder daughter found them, it has made a few converts here to the Old Gods." The man blathered.

Still, "Ice dragons, you say? I thought Ned found regular dragon eggs."

Manderly shook his head, "No, your grace, indeed they were confirmed by Lord Writston, who has the largest collection of texts regarding the North and the legends of the Ice Dragons. He confirmed it thus in front of all of the Lords of the North."

"You know, I don't think I've heard of Ice Dragons before." Robert said, his mind working overtime.

"They are truly creatures of the North, your grace. It is said that they were used during the Long Night, as well as in the fight between the First Men and the Children of the Forest. Though they died out shortly after from what I have heard." Lord Manderly became quite exuberant in his tale.

"Well, I can't wait to see these eggs for myself." Robert stated jovially. "Now, I believe you mentioned something about a feast?"

Last one for the night. Things are starting to pick up, ooh la la!

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Steampunkunicorn

Jun 5, 2018

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#142

Stannis ground his teeth as his elder brother ignored propriety and practically had a serving wench in his lap. Surely his brother could keep it in his breeches long enough to wait until after the feast.

He looked away in disgust, focusing on his daughter instead.

She had been his relief in several ways, waiting on Dragonstone for him. She always had a smile for him that he cherished every time. Lately, she had been smiling more often and his heart was lightened by it.

He had worried when the only company she kept was Patchface. Fortunately, he had been left behind on Dragonstone and Shireen was able to enjoy her time with her cousins and the Lady Brienne. Myrcella and Tommen did not remember Shireen without her scars and treated her as if she had been born with them.

He watched her laugh as young Tommen spilled his soup while describing something before moving to clean the mess.

"Our children are one of the few good things in life, eh Stannis?" Robert interrupted his thoughts. He glanced at his brother, finding the serving wench gone.

Stannis nodded.

"I only wish life had been kinder to your daughter." Robert admitted. "She's a sweet girl. She doesn't deserve her scars."

"No, she doesn't."

And with that, the moment was over and they were returned to the fripperies around them.

I watched as my dragon climbed the piles of books, trekking across unexplored areas. She was quite entertaining, her wings unable to support her yet.

"Now, now, you need to stay with your mother." Maester Luwin admonished the dragon. She responded with a trill and continued her journey.

I giggled, but got up and scooped her into my hands. I went back to my position and put her on my shoulder.

Feeling her settle on my shoulder, I went back to reading my book. While mostly in the Old Tongue, there were some translated passages that were of interest (as well as helping my language skills.)

If I was right about the book, I would be able to inform Lord Ned about what would be needed against the Others with sources to back me up.

It had been a tome that had been uncovered from the Family House and was written by the first Lord Writston. Meanwhile, my dragon nuzzled her head against my hair, feeling my excitement.

I really had to figure out a name for her. I couldn't simply go with Lady, as that belonged to a direwolf not yet born. It also didn't suit her. I thought about the names given to my fur babies over the years and discarded them in equal terms. None of them suited her either.

I also didn't want to name her after someone I knew. I knew it would come to me soon.

In the meantime, I focused on the passages mentioning glyttering glass and fire.

Robb headed to the Godswood in excitement. He had finally figured out what needed to be done. Arya wouldn't tell him, so he prodded and poked Jon for information about what had happened that day.

He carried the egg, and carefully made a small cut on each hand as he arrived at the wierwood tree. How could he have forgotten Arya's scraped hands? Given how her egg had absorbed the blood, it should have been obvious to him. And so, he placed one bloodied hand on the egg and one on the tree.

He had just enough time to see the blood be absorbed in a small pool at the top of the egg, similar to the silver pool at the bottom, before he knew nothing but blackness

Robb looked around, but was surrounded by a heavy blackness. It was everywhere, even in his bones.

Suddenly, carved faces surrounded him. They pulsed with a red light and began to circle him.

"Why have you come to us?" Asked a voice. He couldn't tell where it came from.

"I've come seeking help." He stated. He'd had so much to ask them, planned carefully from what Arya told them, but it all escaped his mind in that moment.

"And why should we grant a boon to you?" Another voice, more menacing, asked.

"I—I am Robb Stark, son of Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell. Brother to Arya and Sansa." He managed, though it had felt like he had been getting less air.

"We know who you are. What we do not know is why you are here." The first voice stated.

"I have heard of my sisters' dealings with you. I had hoped I might be able to do the same." Robb started to feel on equal ground again.

Suddenly, the faces stopped their endless spinning.

"What they have done with us is beyond you. So, again, why should we grant you a boon?" A third voice asked.

"We have to prepare for the Long Night." Robb blurted, thinking to what has been warned. "Surely there is something I could do that may be of use?"

The faces stayed silent and still. He was deaf to any noise.

And so, when they finally spoke, he nearly fell in shock.

"We cannot directly interfere with your world, nor can we act as we have once. If we were to do so, it would allow others to gain a foothold in your world. Thus, if you act, it must be of your own volition and accept the consequences that will follow." The second voice stated.

"I can, I will." He said, quick in his excitement.

"What you will be asked to do will affect you for the rest of your life, it will be both a blessing and a curse. Do you truly understand?"

"I do. I am willing to do what needs to be done to help my family and the North." Robb said, feeling a sense of duty beyond any he had ever known.

"Then here is what we shall do, young Robb Stark, son of Lord Eddard Stark and brother of Sansa and Arya…" A child with leaves for hair and unearthly eyes came forward, telling him what he must do.

So, Robb finally got his wish.

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Steampunkunicorn

Jun 5, 2018

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#148

The being that was once Brynden Rivers was agitated. What he had seen and what he could expect had been altered, and kept altering. It was all because of the researcher, as the Old Gods referred to her.

That chit was changing things to the point where everything he knew to expect had altered s greatly, he couldn't even be sure of his successor.

He had tried to enter her dreams, but was blocked by something.

He had tried the other children's dreams, but only managed the one not yet born. The others were able to keep him at bay.

He would have to continue his search, find something that would help to clarify his visions.

Lady Catelyn had managed to settle peacefully. Her most recent babe has been troubling in comparison to their siblings.

Robb had been the most worrisome, as she did not know what to expect. Sansa had been rather easy, only becoming troublesome when it was time to birth her. Arya had kicked up a fuss as soon as she was able, never giving her Lady Mother's ribs a break. And Bran had been eager for the world and was q touch early, being the shortest delivery she had.

The newest babe in her stomach was determined to make her tired and nauseous whenever possible and succeeded most of the time.

She had been fortunate, as Mya, Septa Mordane, and Vayon Poole's wife were there for her to delegate to. Mya had been especially helpful, often giving her remedies she had learned from the midwives of the Vale to reduce her nausea.

She had also been willing to reign in the children and make sure Sansa didn't slip her increased guards.

She was also fortunate that she was able to do much of the work from her bed or a convenient chair. Despite the other side effects, she had not yet had the pregnancy brain she had with Arya, nor the sluggish thought Robb had caused.

They had received a raven from Lord Manderly and knew to expect the King and his party in a little over a fortnight now and there was still so much to do!

Maester Luwin had been making noises about putting her on bedrest, but she had to put it off for now. She made sure to make the time to pray in the sept at least once a day, asking for them to allow her to make it through the King's visit before needing bed rest.

She'd taken to having Myra, her personal maid, follow her in order to make sure she did not overexert herself, nor allow her to fall from fatigue or nausea.

There was so much to do, so much to handle, not to mention the preparation for whatever the King's reaction would be to her daughters' new pets.

She wondered how Ned was handling it. They had been so busy that he had often not seen her until one of them was asleep from exhaustion and the other joined them.

Lord Stark was deeply troubled. He had an internal countdown until Robert arrived. He knew the man was his friend, but he could still hear dragonspawn on the man's lips.

And with his own daughters having dragons, albeit a different kind, he worried about their futures.

His Lords had also been sending him summaries of what they had found. It appeared many of his lords had found old texts and fragments of runes. Many of them referred to odd substances he had not heard of before, such as North Ice (apparently having nothing to do with regular ice) and Glytter Glass. He hardly knew what to make of it.

Then there were the betrothals that had started to come for Arya, as well as a few more distant ones for Robb. One had even come for him from Dorne.

Then there was the reports on Theon. He had apparently written a letter to his sister. As it was his first communication with the Iron Islands since his arrival, Ned decided he would talk to the lad soon. While he had never expressly forbidden the boy from contacting his family, Theon had never done so before.

Ned sighed, as it seemed his work was growing right in front of his eyes. Perhaps now would be a good time to begin teaching Robb some of the more boring duties involved?

I sat in my room, watching my dragon burrow into the fur on my bed. I truly needed a name for her. She was beginning to understand names and would soon begin to answer to one, if my research was correct.

Every idea I had was quickly discarded, however. Normally I was quite good at naming creatures. I had named several dogs and cats, from Loopy to Peanut Butter to Hally to Lilipig to my mom's beloved companion Princess Ruby Noelle (oh, how she missed her.)

Yet, what did one name an Ice Dragon?

I could hardly go with Smaug or Puff. Not only were they the wrong kind of dragon, they were also not suited for mine.

I moved away from those names before thinking of some of the many names I had considered for a child one day. While I had the names for my firstborn boy and girl in my old life, there were several names I went through before them.

And with that, I immediately knew the perfect one.

I scooped my dragon into my arms and cuddled with her, murmuring "Isolde" over and over.

Yeah, not much action until Bobby B arrives, just a lot of stress. I also thought long and hard about what kind of name to give my dragon, and it seemed like the kind of name that Sansa would adore, given the context.

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#155

King Robert approached Winterfell with an excitement he had not felt in a long time. He and Ned would be reunited and it would be just like they were boys again. He would make a few paltry enquiries after the eggs, as Jon Arryn had reasoned for the trip, and then the real fun could begin.

Next to him, Stannis sat with his daughter on his horse, letting her hold the reigns and she had a serious look on her face. While he had wished someone other than Stannis had joined him, he had enjoyed Shireen's sweet nature, almost equal to his own daughter's.

Speaking of his daughter, she was riding in a nearby cart with his youngest son. They had been rather well behaved on the trip, aside from that nonsense with the ship's cat. Still, the King had been able to get the Captain a new cat to make up for his son's adoption of the ratty thing.

As he entered the courtyard, he saw Ned and his wife, followed by a line of children.

"Ned!" he boomed in excitement as he lifted off of his horse.

Ned, with ridiculous formality, kneeled. "Your Grace, Winterfell is yours."

Bloody hells, as if he didn't get enough of that at the Red Keep.

"None of that now. Now, let me get a look at you." Ned stood. Robert pretended to look him over. "You've gotten old." He decided.

Ned gave him a look and Robert unfortunately realised that Ned did indeed look haggered. Still, the two men burst into laughter and hugged.

After letting go of Ned, he turned to Cat and brought her into a gentler hug, noticing the shape beneath her skirt.

"Your Grace." She calmly stated as he lifted her. "Allow us to introduce our children."

Ned took over "Our eldest and the heir to Winterfell, Robb." The tall young redhead bowed with a seriousness that did not suit his face. "Our daughter Sansa."

"Aren't you the one touched by the Gods, or some such?" Robert interrupted the introduction.

"My sister Arya and I have both been fortunate to have learned from the Old Gods, Your Grace." Her soft voice stood in contrast to the reddish scar, almost unnoticed in her hair. She curtsied.

He turned to the next girl. "And just what happened to you?"

"I talked with the Old Gods and found out things." The girl stated simply, almost abrupt. Robert couldn't help but chuckle. She reminded him of Lyanna and how she teased him at that tourney, so long ago.

"I hope to find out more." He stated back, turning to the youngest boy, who he heard Ned call Bran. He ruffled the boy's hair and the boy giggled in response. Perhaps he and Tommen might be friends. They were about the same age.

It was then that he noticed another boy. "So, you must be the bastard." Gods, the boy looked just like Ned, aside from his facial features. He must have had a gorgeous mother.

"I am, your grace. I hope to be my brother's bannerman one day." The boy bowed, a grave air that suggested his seriousness.

"And who are you?" He asked the young woman next to the bastard. Something about her looked familiar… "Mya?" He realised.

"Hello Father." She curtsied awkwardly in her skirt.

Lord Eddard Stark led his old friend into his solar, the man's shock still on his face.

"I sent a letter to the court about her fostering." He told the man gently.

"I remember Jon saying something about it, but I didn't realise she was so grown up already. Why, she's as old as Lya was when she was taken." Robert sat in shock.

Ned pulled out the bread and salt needed for guest right, as well as a small jug of ale he'd taken to keeping in his solar. After Robert ate and drank, he seemed to calm down.

"Aye, she's done well here. She's learning to run a keep, as well as being a companion to my children. I also believe she's been learning to fight." Ned informed his friend.

"Fighting, eh? She's mine, alright. Can she use a hammer?" Ned shook his head.

"I believe she's become quite useful with a shield, though. And she's surpassed my own daughters at swordplay. She cannot loose an arrow to save her life, though." He stated as he remembered her attempts.

"Your daughters are learning too? I dare say they'll be able to beat my eldest in a fight in no time." Both the men chuckled at the idea.

"Has she had any idea of marriage? She's about the right age to find a love." He could see as Robert began thinking of possible matches. After all, a bastard of a King was still rather valuable.

"I believe she wanted to marry a squire from a house in the Vale, but he has lost interest in her."

"Well, he's an idiot then. Still, I'll ask her if she would want me to arrange something for her." And with that, Ned began to prepare for the next issue.

"On another matter, I assume you're here concerning the find we have here in Winterfell?" Ned had been preparing for this and was still unsure how it would unfold.

"Aye, I've asked some of your bannermen as we've gone through the North and have heard all about your Ice Dragon Eggs. Officially, I'm supposed to try and get you to hand one over as a gift to the Crown. But, personally, I think you deserve them more than me."

"I thank you, Your Grace." Ned began.

"I told you, none of that. We've known each other since boyhood. If you call me 'your grace' again, I'll hit you." Robert interrupted.

"Very well, Robert. However, what I am about to tell you is still a rather serious topic."

Robert sighed. "Fine Ned. We will pretend to be serious Lords for five minutes. Then, I expect you to take me to the crypts. I still have to pay my respects to your sister."

Ned signaled the guard. "Since the original missive, more eggs had been uncovered. And my elder daughter mentioned how Arya had spoken to the Old Gods…"

"Yes, yes I'm aware of that. Though, how many eggs have been found?"

"Two more since the missive. One of them by Arya, who found a way to hatch them."

Robert froze. "Ned, please tell me you're not saying what I think you're saying."

"Robert, may I present my daughters' Ice Dragons, Isolde and Valkyrie." The guard brought forth the two dragons and set them down upon his cleared desk.

"What?" Robert whispered.

Because of course Arya would name her dragon something awesome like that.

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I quickly entered the room after the guard. Lord Ned had years of friendship and his honor behind him. It was the best way to break it to Bobby B. So, I had to continue the PR campaign.

"There you are Isolde." I stated, breaking Bobby B's concentration. "Forgive me, Your Grace, I wanted to check on her after Father prevented Arya and me from having them out in the courtyard." I bobbed a curtsy and placed my arm downwards for Isolde to climb.

She quickly settled onto my shoulder and began playing with a loose strand of hair. I smiled in an adoring way, mostly genuine too.

"I—um, wha…" Came out of the King's mouth. I couldn't help but giggle a little. For a man that was frickin' huge both lengthwise and sideways, to see him unsure of what to do about a little girl holding a white dragon was funny.

"I imagine Your Grace has heard stories of how Ice Dragons aided in the Long Night? Indeed, they had been our sigil until roughly a thousand years after the last recorded living Ice Dragon, you grace. We have been blessed with their return." I stated, looking adoringly as Isolde nuzzled my hand.

"Indeed you have, young lady. In fact, Ned was just telling me how this came to be." He sent a not at all subtle glare to the man. If I wasn't determined to look as sweet and innocent as possible, I would have laughed.

"Oh, it all started with my fever, Your Grace. During the height of it, I had been altered by the Old Gods. It led to my discovery of the eggs. My younger sister became absolutely obsessed with the idea of Ice Dragons and carried around an egg she found. One day, she went praying and was able to talk to the Old Gods." I said all of this without once looking at him. "She was granted a boon and asked how to hatch them. And so, I went with her and we hatched our eggs."

Robert was pretty flabbergasted.

"I see." He finally said. "And what do you intend to do with them?" He asked like a parent.

"Why to make sure to avoid my vision, Your Grace."

"What vision?"

I frowned. "I thought Father or one of the Northern Lords told you, Your Grace. I was granted a possible future. It led to so many deaths and a fighting and fractured Westeros, one that would ultimately fall against the Others in a second Long Night."

"Does she speak the truth, Ned?" He asked after scrutinising my face.

"I believe she does. She has told me much and I've found no lies among the facts given." Oh Ned, if only you knew…

"Indeed Your Grace, Father has already been able to prevent one tragedy with the aid of Lord Bolton." Isolde began curling around my neck.

"Aye, though it was at great peril to some." Lord Ned gave me a look, eyes going to my scar.

"I will have sewing soon, might I take Isolde and Valkyrie with me?" I asked innocently.

Lord Ned waved me off as he and Robert decided to talk in private.

I was excited to go. Perhaps I wouldn't have even needed to tell a story that day.

Myrcella had been excited to come to Winterfell. First, Tommen, Shireen, and her got to play without Joffrey for weeks on end. Then, Lady Brienne had been nice and played with them, telling stories of her home. Oh, how lovely Tarth sounded!

Then, when they arrived at White Harbor, she found the prettiest trinkets for Mother, including a pearl necklace that was as white as her mother's teeth. Myrcella also got to try all sorts of new foods and was given a lovely green dress from the Manderly girls, who joined them to Winterfell.

Now, she found out she had an older sister!

"What is the Vale like?" She asked her new sister.

Mya looked down at her with warm dark blue eyes and began to tell of how Father would throw her in the air when she was little, her goats and donkeys she had kept, which were now taken care of by a friend, and the sights she climbed.

Myrcella decided she quite liked having and older sister better than an older brother.

Still, the best part of the day came at sewing. Not only was Robb Stark there (who Myrcella thought to be out of a story,) but his sisters had dragons on their shoulders as they worked! Myrcella wanted to badly to pet them, but she didn't want to seem rude. Still, she had heard stories of dragons from her Uncle Tyrion and had never expected to actually see one. Not only that, but one belonged to a girl just a bit older than her.

She never wanted to leave.

Varys sighed as he read his reports. He had finally found something concrete about Winterfell. It seemed the younger daughter had claimed to have spoken to the Old Gods. Indeed, it seemed the family believed her. Given how the elder had found dragon eggs after claiming to have been touched by then, he would not be surprised if some other long-lost relic had been discovered. Indeed, it seemed every Northern Lord had petitioned for a betrothal for one or both the girls.

Whether their claims were genuinely true or not, they had the potential to be a thorn in the Kingdom, or perhaps an ice shard was more appropriate? Indeed, it would be especially true if the girls married South, which was likely given how many were sending betrothal petitions to Winterfell.

Truly, he would have to keep a close watch on the girls, one might do for his plans perfectly.

Brienne watched as Lord Stark's daughters practiced, along with Robert's bastard and a Mormont. Indeed, it seemed rather normal for them. Brienne had settled in Winterfell rather easily. Then again, she had been quite exhausted since leaving White Harbor and her bed was comfortable here.

Shireen had stood by her side, along with two local girls, taking care of the dragons while the Starks practiced. Indeed, she was no longer angry at Shireen for that day, but rather saddened. One day the girl would realise what it meant to be less than beautiful, attracting only those willing to marry them for their lands.

Dale had been kind to her, but he would never be romantically interested in her, not when he could marry a prettier choice.

"Sansa, you need to keep your feet close together!" Barked the Mormont. "It helps to center you and keep you from tripping on your own sword."

Said girl nodded and fixed her feet before returning to the exercises.

Brienne didn't know what to make of them. The girls had appeared every bit the ideal growing lady when she had entered the courtyard, but here they were practicing swords. They had dragons, but spent time sewing and telling stories. They had found a sort of medium that Brienne had yet to each hope to achieve. Then there was Mya Stone, who went around with shorter hair than her and leathers, but who had apparently helped to prepare Winterfell for the King's arrival. Given the rumours she had heard about Lady Catelyn anger at Lord Stark's bastard, she was surprised the Lady trusted the girl enough to aid on such a scale.

Brienne had been there for less than a day, but had so much to write her father.

She knew her fostering would be interesting.

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#169

Mya wasn't quite sure what to expect when her father summoned her. She had a few recollections of him early in her life, tossing her high into the air, but nothing else. Lord Stark had told her a few stories about their time in the Vale, and during the rebellion and the fight against the Ironborn.

She had pictured a strong, fierce man that had a quick temper but also a kind heart.

In many ways, that had been what had appeared. He was taller than any man she had ever seen, but he had signs of becoming fat. He had recognised her, but gave no indication that he was aware of what had happened to her since leaving the Vale. It was hard to know which version to expect.

And so, bucking up her courage, she entered the Lord's solar Lord Stark had lent him.

He arose as she entered, and he walked around the desk and hugged her. She hugged back, if only to allow a bit of give to breathe.

He released her and gestured to a seat. They both sat.

"You've grown so much since I last saw you." He began.

"I am almost fourteen name days." She calmly informed him.

"Aye, and I'm glad to find you growing well." He seemed a loss for words. How could he be when she had so many questions?

"Lord Stark has been kind to me." She blurted. She didn't know why that was said before all of her questions, but it seemed right.

He barked a laugh and took a swig from his cup. "Aye, Ned adored you when you were born, I'm glad he was able to take you in when I couldn't."

"Why couldn't you?" The question was out before she could blink.

"Once upon a time, I had hoped to bring you to court, but I was afraid you might have had an accident from one of my enemies. Leaving you in the Vale was safer for you than that shit pile." He gave her a look of remorse. She actually believed him.

And so, they began to speak about their lives.

Robb's head was filled with the thoughts of his talk with the Old Gods and the Child of the Forest. He had no doubt in what they told him to do. If he did what was instructed, he would help everyone in Westeros.

He had to wait for a time when everyone was occupied, in order to slip away unheeded. Fortunately, during the feast that night, everyone was deep in their cups. The night before, there had been a more informal setting that would lead to more early risers. Tonight was the proper feast that Mother had planned to perfection.

He ate only what was needed.

He was too excited for true hunger, but he needed the energy, as well as one less reason to eat on the road. He did not even drink the cup of wine Father allowed. He needed a clear head.

And so, he excused himself early, waiting for the party to die down. Sansa and Arya were considered the treasures of the night, often dancing and feeding their dragons bits of the feast. Sansa had looked resplendent in the gown she had made. It had been an interesting design, with an odd hooped skirt and bell sleeves that were cut to expose her arms, all done in silver and cream. She looked every bit as powerful as she would one day be.

Arya, while more simplistic in style, wore a dress with a loose skirt, allowing for the free movement she preferred. The top had been interesting, with leather straps crisscrossing the bodice. It hinted at the warrior Arya longed to be. Robb was truly sad that he might end up missing it.

He double-checked his pack, making sure he had enough provisions. He would need to have at least enough to last him a month if he calculated right. He also made sure to have coin, in case he was forced to stop.

He waited until there were only a few stragglers and he snuck out to the stables. He prepared his horse, carefully putting the saddlebags on the fastest horse owned by Winterfell. He checked his egg, lying in between loaves of bread and the dried fruit he asked the cook to make.

And thus, with a final check, from the pockets of the odd jacket Sansa had made him (with its short length—only to the hip—and the hood) to the cloak he wore secured with a circular pin, Robb Stark disappeared from Winterfell.

Cersei was angry. This was hardly new. In fact, she had been angry since a week after her husband left. She had been quite happy to be away from him and reveled in time with her sweet Joffrey and her brother Jaime. She had taken Joffrey around the Red Keep, and making an appearance at the Small Council meetings. Oh, how glorious it would be if it were to stay like that forever. Even with Jon Arryn fighting her control every step. He was a minor inconvenience and she was determined to show Joffrey a good example for ruling.

After the first week, though, she had found out just why her husband had gone to the North, from servants, no less! She had immediately confronted Jon Arryn as to why she had not been informed. He had the gall to assume she knew! As if she would have stayed behind in King's Landing when she could have gotten a dragon egg. Oh, how her Father would have been proud. The thought of what could have been had continued to stew within her.

She couldn't simply follow after a week. It would make her seem weak and out of the loop. That simply wouldn't do. And so, she resigned herself to her work as Queen, holding Court listening to the Smallfolk drone on, wanting something from Joffrey and Arryn.

Oh, how she couldn't wait for it to end, if only to ask her dear, loving husband why he didn't tell her and hope that it was supposed to be a surprise for her.

I had been breaking my fast, one of the few awake at the time, despite how far the sun had risen by that point. I made sure all of the guests that were awake (mainly the children) had ample food, as well as leaving the more grease-filled foods for those that would need it.

I had fed a few nibbles of sausage to Isolde, who quite enjoyed it. She kept to my shoulder and would trill at the others, making the newcomers quite happy.

I allowed those nearest to me to feed her, as she quite enjoyed meat. Fortunately, it did not need to be charred or even cooked, but Isolde ate any kind of meat she could enjoy. It reminded me of when my mom adopted our dog Ruby. We had been told she was a picky eater. Fortunately, on the way home with her, I had gotten a burger and fries. From then on, she ate just about anything edible that was put on front of her (though we made sure never to buy the dog food the pet store fed her.)

Hmm, I wondered how Isolde would have reacted to burgers. Or even the prince and princess.

And so, when I spotted my three guards talking with Maester Luwin, I shifted my thoughts to something more worrisome.

This was further deepened by my guards coming to collect me. I said my goodbyes to everyone and followed Luwin to a closed off room.

We entered and right as I was about to ask what this was all about, I spotted it. A printing press!

I could scarcely believe it. I had only seen a real one once and that had been in a museum. Any others were seen on video, but none of them could live up to the excitement I felt.

"You did it." I shrieked in joy.

"I said I would try. Now, do you remember how I told you the previous design had been too cumbersome?" I nodded, vaguely remember feeling disappointed about it, but more focused on Old Ice. "I altered it a bit. The original design was quite heavy and used carved pages, making much more work than a simple scribe. Instead, there is a board here, designed to hold rearranged letters, made out of bits of wood, carved and can be used to recreate pages quickly." Luwin continued. I could only hope the rest of the day would be as lovely as the machine before me.

And the plot is back on track, just in time for me to go to bed. Hope you all enjoy!

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Jon was in the training yard when it had happened. He had been practicing with Theon, wondering where Robb was when he heard saw the guards acting off. Normally jovial, guarding and keeping order, they acted as though they were ready for a fight. They were also clustered oddly, acting without any routine that Jon could remember. His Lord Father and the King strode out with worry in their eyes.

Jon wanted to ask them what was going on, but they were preparing their horses and were gone before Jon could get to them. He looked around, hoping somebody might tell him what was going on.

He found Sansa holding Bran, doing her best to calm him. He saw the tears that streaked her face. He immediately feared the worst.

"Sansa, what has happened?" He asked gently, not wanting to upset her or Bran further.

"Oh Jon, tis all my fault! Robb has left in the middle of the night to who knows where?" She immediately began to quietly sob, not wanting to disturb a now sleeping Bran. "If I hadn't started changing things after my vision, he would still be here."

He pulled her into the light jacket she had made him that she insisted was called a 'hoodie.'

"Did you know he was going to leave?" He asked her.

She shook her head, too upset to speak.

"Did you give him the idea to leave?"

Again, she shook her head.

"Did you want him to leave, or prayed that he might?"

Her head shook so fiercely, her braid began to come undone.

He stroked the tangle of hair. "Then it isn't your fault. If you knew his plans, you would have stopped him. You would have begged and talked and make your eyes big until you knew everything and figured out a new plan."

He held her tightly, listening to the details, understanding her feelings. He had no idea of Robb's plans, nor even what had brought it on. He knew a note had been found, but what was written had made no sense. Robb said that he had no choice but to go, but why? He said that his leaving would help the country. How it would do that was beyond Jon. Surely him staying and becoming the next Lord of Winterfell would be the best way to help?

As Jon held a sleeping Sansa and, by extension, a sleeping Bran, he wished he understood Robb's choices.

Theon watched as the mood in Winterfell became more and more dour as weeks passed without a hint of where Robb had gone. Lord Stark had sent men in every direction, as well as a raven to every house in the North in the hopes that one of them might have seen the heir to Winterfell.

The King had personally led a search party, and Theon joined another at first. But he returned to Winterfell without any luck. As had a number of other search parties. The only thing they could do now was wait and hope someone had seen him.

Theon had taken to helping the despaired Lady Catelyn. She reminded him of how his own mother had been when news came of his brothers' deaths. She had been forced to take an early bedrest in order to aid the babe and he often spent time with her, speaking of Robb.

He didn't know if he was helping or hurting her in the long-run, but it felt like the right thing to do.

He had also made sure to spend part of the day with Bran and their guests. Sansa had been doing her best to do work as host with the help of Mya and Septa Mordane, and left the children to their own devices where she would normally entertain.

He could only hope whatever reason Robb chose to leave for was worth what he left behind. After all, Theon didn't have a choice and he had heard about how badly his Mother was. He would have given anything to return home to her and Asha.

King Robert was surprised at how busy his time in Winterfell had become. He had expected to fill his time with hunting and reliving memories with Ned.

Instead, he was faced with the shock of seeing creatures long thought dead, spending time with his daughter, and looking for a runaway heir. The frustration of the search also led him to practicing in the training yard, a practice he had been doing less and less in King's Landing.

He had also been given time to watch the children interact with Ned's brood. Tommen and Myrcella were enjoying themselves. Perhaps a fostering in the future? Shireen had taken some fancy to an odd machine the Maester had come up with, he didn't quite understand the details. He knew they would have to extend their stay, if only until the heir came back.

He wondered what would happen if Joffrey up and ran off one day. No doubt his shrew, er wife would never let him hear the end of it.

He hoped they would have an idea about the lad soon.

Meera Reed stood at the edge of the Neck, waiting. She knew someone was coming and it was important for her people to help him pass.

She stood and waited for most of the day, her trident ready to protect herself, and crannogmen waiting in the shadows.

So, when a young man appeared, Meera stood with all ten of her name days within to look as fierce as possible. The young man had on a cloak, his hood obscuring his face.

"Greetings Robb Stark." She called. He jerked, as if surprised. As if they did not hear from his Father and could put the information together.

"I suppose you will tell my Father and send me home." He stated as he took his hood down. He burnished copper hair lit nicely against the sun.

"It is our duty to tell your Father where you are." He looked resigned. "However, we have a greater duty to let you pass. And so, we shall send a raven only after you pass. Now come, there is much to discuss." She held her hand out for him and he accepted, walking into the Neck.

Another busy day, so a little less posting than normal.

Last edited: Jun 6, 2018

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Robb rode with a group of crannogmen as he entered the Riverlands. Though at the most northern point of them, it was warm enough to take off the hooded jacket, leaving only his cloak. He was sure he would not even need the cloak soon.

Lord Reed had been understanding about his situation, though he did scold him for leaving only a note and not saying goodbye to his family properly.

The more Robb thought about it, the more shamefaced he became. His Father would have at least understood. And he wasn't going to be gone forever. He would return after his mission.

Still, he had included a note meant for Father's eyes only on the raven Lord Reed had sent.

"You are looking far too serious for a boy of ten name days, Robb Stark." The girl—Meera teased him.

"One tends to look serious when thinking serious thoughts." He grinned at her.

"Tis a shame your face is not meant for them, then." She grinned back at him.

Robb turned to look forward, hoping she did not see him blush.

He had a mission to focus on, after all.

Myrcella was quite saddened at the disappearance of Robb Stark. He had been quite handsome and everyone was sad without him.

She wished she could have known him longer than a day. Still, things were adjusting to how they had been before the disappearance. An air of something was ever-present, but Lady Stark had been able to resume some of her duties and Lady Sansa had had time to spend with them again.

She had seemed stressed, so Myrcella shared her doll with her. Though the older girl was often too busy to play, she had thanked Myrcella and appeared touched by the gesture.

Shireen had told her she had done the right thing. She had hoped her cousin was right.

In the meantime, she asked for her Father's favorite dessert sent to him, in hopes to make him smile a little. There was little else she could do.

It had been a total of three weeks after Robb's disappearance before Ned had word of where he had gone. Maester Luwin had brought him a missive from Lord Reed. He had merely thought it was perhaps a betrothal, already having such disappointment from other houses sending him ravens.

And so, he was quite surprised to have word of Robb. He read the words three times, uncomprehending of the meaning.

Lord Eddard Stark,

Recently, your eldest son Robb Stark, heir of Winterfell has passed through the Neck. When enquired, he informed us of a mission he chose to accept from the Old Gods. As such, he informed us of his intent to travel to the Isle of Faces. We have provided an escort to aid in a safe arrival to the Isle and sent a raven as soon as was possible. Your son has also provided a note for you enclosed.

Lord Howland Reed

After that, he practically ripped open the little note that had been added.

Father,

I apologise for leaving the way I did. During my time in Winterfell, I wanted to speak to the Old Gods like Arya or even Sansa. I did what I could and must now go to pay the price for it. I will return to Winterfell one day, I swear by the Old Gods and Mother's New. When I will return, I will be prepared to aid against the Long Night and I hope you will forgive me for now.

Robb Stark

Lady Catelyn Stark had been watched carefully by Myra and Lynna, but it was better than remaining in bed. She had been restless, but Maester Luwin had insisted, as well as the Wintertown midwife. If she did not, she would have likely lost the babe.

Though, they had agreed to allow her some of her lighter duties, so long as she did not show any sign of relapse. Robb's disappearance had been a blow, but she had to focus on the child not yet born. If she were to lose the babe, she could hardly know what to expect. She knew Lysa had not had the easiest time, often losing her children, and she did not want to experience it.

And so, when Ned walked towards her as if he had seen a ghost, she did her best not to react. It would do no good.

"Cat" He mumbled and brought her forward, putting his face into her hair. "I've had news about Robb."

She froze, unable to believe the words. "Has he been found? Is he on his way back to Winterfell?" She pulled away from him, desperate to find the answers in his eyes.

"He has been found, but he will not be coming home yet." He handed her a note, written by Robb. She cried as she was held by Ned. She did not think she would still be standing otherwise.

King Robert could not understand why Ned wasn't preparing to go after his son.

"He has chosen to accept a duty from the Old Gods. If I were to bring him back, there would be a price. I have to let him continue. He has sworn to return one day." was all Ned would say when Robert asked.

"And if he doesn't?" Robert asked.

"He has to. If he doesn't, then we must continue our life at Winterfell."

Robert thought Ned was foolish in this, but the man had always been more dedicated in his religious beliefs than Robert. Even when he lacked a Heart tree, he would still pray consistently in the Eyrie, whereas Robert rarely attended the Sept that had been on the grounds.

And so, Robert wanted to aid Ned in dealing with his foolishness. And so, he proposed a betrothal between Myrcella and the younger Stark boy, Bran.

At least the idea of a princess marrying into Winterfell would help the family recover whatever prestige would be lost (as well as a hope he had of finally being brother to Ned in the eyes of the world.)

Fortunately, Ned agreed to the betrothal (though he had ran the idea by Stannis, who helped him phrase it in a better way through his grinding teeth.) Robert agreed to allow for it to be revisited if and when young Robb returned.

For now, that was all he could do for his friend.

So, yeah, Robb's going to the Isle of Faces, but he won't become a Green Man. And Robert is trying to follow in Shireen's matchmaking hobbies.

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#187

Varys was happy that the Queen had brought young Joffrey to the Small Council meeting. Her reaction would be memorable when he shared his news.

"And so, the current Master of Coin has left us. I have sent word to his Grace to ask if he has anyone in mind to appoint." Lord Arryn stated, glancing at the empty chair.

"I've heard your wife mention an idea she had for one of your own bannermen." Varys spoke.

"Indeed, it appears the man has done well in Gulltown, but I should want to hear His Grace before making a decision. Also, there is the changing political situation to consider." Lord Arryn sighed.

"And what political situation is that?" Queen Cersei asked, her face placid. "If you do not appoint this man, perhaps my Uncle Kevan may suit."

Varys giggled. "He is speaking of the North, your grace." Lord Arryn nodded. "With the dragon eggs found, as well as the King visiting Winterfell, they have been gaining more power and might hope for representation here in the capital."

"And yet, they are farther away than Dorne. They can hardly cause too much trouble, especially with the King there to keep them in line." Cersei stated, petting her son's head like a particularly stupid puppy.

"That may have been true before, your grace, but I have received worrying news." Varys began.

"If this is referring to the rumblings of unrest by the Faith, we are already aware, Lord Varys. It has been rather hard to avoid hearing about when there are rumours of the Stark girls being in contact with the Old Gods and performing miracles." Pycelle stated in his doddering way.

"No, but it may aggravate that situation." Varys tittered. "It appears that the Stark girls have hatched their eggs and have ice dragons."

Cersei's shriek could be heard ringing throughout the walls of the Red Keep.

In the Citadel, Archmaester Nimoy attended his duties, watching over those earning their links in scientific research. They had yet to have an explosion, much to the Archmaester's pride. After all, when learning about how certain elements work together, there is always at least one acolyte who believes he knows better and attempts to prove it, usually creating said explosion.

The current batch had yet to do so, though that may have had to do with them seeing Archmaester Stewart and Acolyte Shatner argue over a directionship that led to a minor explosion with their squabbling.

Once they had done for the day, Archmaester Nimoy decided to discuss acolytes with Archmaester Q. Archmaester Q had been an odd one, acting quite childish in several ways, but beyond brilliant in others. It truly was a pity the man decided to dedicate himself to the study of magic.

He entered the room the glass candles were in, hoping to find a stimulating discussion. Instead, he found a sight he would have never thought to see in his lifetime.

Out of the row of glass candles, one was lit.

"It was the only one that would light." A voice said from behind him. He turned and raised an eyebrow at Q. "The others did as they always do and refused to light. I had been teaching the latest round of idiots how the practice went and it actually took flame. The idiots tried the others, and I tried after them to make sure they hadn't just screwed it up."

"This does seem quite illogical. Have you spoken to the Seneschal about this?"

"I've tried, but he doesn't believe me and won't be convinced to waste his time on such foolish notions." Ah, he could hear the sarcasm.

"Perhaps I could be of aid. He would be more likely to listen to more than one Archmaester."

Q nodded his thanks and they began discussing the merits of the current acolytes.

I had been in between my lessons and duties when I decided to look for the Mannis himself. I had spoken to him a few times, but in my grief and self-flagellation over Robb's disappearance, I had not had a chance to impart the right knowledge to him.

"Lord Stannis." I greeted, curtsying. "I have been meaning to speak with you."

He bowed in return. "I am sorry for your brother's disappearance. Brothers can often be fickle." He stated bluntly.

"I thank you. Though I do hope Robb's decision was made with serious thought, that is not what I want to speak to you about." I knew the best way to speak with the man was to be as forthright as I could be. No honeyed words or innocent eyes would work with him. He may have been the only man in Westeros I had to actively avoid such things with.

"And what does the daughter of the North, with her impossible creature want with me?" The words were challenging, but I heard genuine curiosity.

"As you know, all of the changes and discoveries of the North began with my fever, where I had seen a possible life. While parts of it have been altered, I have not been able to prevent everything." I could barely keep the sadness out of my voice. Oh, how I wished I could just become a Mary Sue and make everything perfect in this world. But I had only so much control and I had to use my limits as an advantage. "Some of which must be corrected soon, if there is to be any hope."

"Hope for who?"

"For all of Westeros."

He looked at me inscrutably. "You genuinely believe this, don't you?"

"I do."

"Very well, tell me your warnings and what must be done. Your Lord Father has put faith in you and seen the return of dragons. Who knows what luck may be brought for the rest of Westeros?"

"I ask that you tell Lord Arryn not to trust the Mockingbird, for it is a serpent in disguise, ready to strike with its venom. I ask that you stay away from the Lord of Light, for it would be your undoing." He looked confused at that point. "In the life I saw, you followed after your wife converted and it eventually led to your death. I also ask that you keep close eyes on the Queen. When she was young, she was told her fate by a frog. Sixteen for him, three for her, and the valonqar haunts her. She will plunge the Kingdoms into a war that there is no time for if we wish to survive."

"I admit, this makes little sense to me."

"But it will make sense to those it concerns. And that is why it must be done." I beseeched him. So much could be prevented, if only done right.

"I shall do my best." He promised me. Good, he kept his word and do what he could.

I left him to attend to my friends.

Lady Brienne enjoyed practicing with Lady Dacey and Mya Stone, as well as the Master-at-arms in Winterfell. They did not mind her preference for fighting over more traditional past times. She also was able to walk around in trousers instead of dresses outside of feasts with no one blinking an eye. She had worried the first day of training, when she walked down the halls of Winterfell. But a maid merely asked her if she was needing anything before she joined the other ladies.

"I yield." She finally admitted defeat.

"Not bad. You're already better than my other students." Lady Dacey informed her. "However, your anger is too prominent when you fight. It causes you to become sloppy. You have to wield your anger like any other weapon. Only use it when useful, keep it sharp, and put it away when another weapon may be more useful. Tis a good lesson to know whether in a fight or dealing with other people." She had turned to the girls as a whole.

Everyone, from Brienne on the field to the Princess and Shireen watching from the sideline absorbed her words.

Lady Dacey always had something to say about combat being related to other aspects of life. Brienne found it quite refreshing.

As she exited the yard, she removed the light armor she had worn, feeling the carved Evenstar in her pocket as she did so.

Lord Stark drew up a basic betrothal agreement for King Robert and himself to sign.

"I don't see why this is necessary, Ned." Robert grumbled.

"My daughter has reminded me the value of proof. It helps to back words and claims with written agreements. Everything she has seen in her vision, she has researched to prove it true. Thus, this is a formality, but one that may be important later." Ned explained. Indeed, Sansa did her best to prove the claims she held. Why, Master Luwin told him she had been trying to find references to warging, outside of the tales they knew. Indeed, she stated that she believed somebody should have written the process down, so as to avoid disaster for the future.

"Alright, Stannis looked over it for me and it seems fair." Robert said. "The dowry's a bit smaller than most would expect for a princess."

"Perhaps, but at this point we don't even know which son she will marry yet."

"Very well, I've never had a head for counting coppers, anyway. Now, she'll stay here when I return to the Capital. If I took her back with me, I'd not hear the end of it until she was sent up here. And even then, my wife wouldn't stop."

"She is rather young for it, though. Normally, she wouldn't be fostered for at least another few years."

"She won't be alone, at least. She's taken to Mya quite well. I've half a mind to find my other bastards and send them here."

"I'm not sure Cat would be too happy. Besides, young Edric is taken well care of from what you've told me."

"He is, but I've others. I'm not sure any others I've had are in as good care. I'll sent a letter to Jon, he'll be willing to help."

"Alright. Now, the betrothal is for the heir of Winterfell…"

And so it went. Lord Eddard was thankful to get this done. Given the future was so uncertain, it was better to make some things clear.

Wylla Manderly was regretting joining the royal procession to Winterfell. She had hoped to make connections and a potential match, as well as finding out more concerning the situation for her House.

The latter had been successful. Between the fosterings and hatched dragons and unconventional lessons, she was sure her Grandfather would consider much.

The former, however, had been more mixed. She had made a good impression on several members of the Court that followed and the Winterfell house seemed to like her well enough. Unfortunately, with the heir's disappearance and the lack of interest from other potential suiters, she had been quite disappointed. Wynafred had not had much luck, either, though she had made a bit more progress finding out rumours and facts.

"And I found that Lord Stark and the King will make the announcement the day after tomorrow. To think, a princess living here!"

Wylla did consider what her sister told her. She knew she would mention it in the raven to Grandfather.

"Do you think the fostering may lead to more? After all, it is known that Lord Stark and the King fostered and went to war over Lady Lyanna's disappearance together. Surely a more secure tie would want to be formed?" She speculated.

A maid bumped into her, forcefully passing through. Wylla scowled. She was ready to return to White Harbor.

So, a little bit more Varys, stirring shit up and sowing his plans. I also realised that the Citadel would have been affected by the comet and this was my attempt to show them. Also, my SI got to warn a bit more. And red tape is involved. I had also thought to mention the Manderlys, as I had mentioned their joining the group, but made no mention yet.

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Geyle the boat-builder's daughter had grown up in the shadow of Harrenhal. As such, she was used to parties of all sorts passing through. She had seen smallfolk, merchants, and nobles of every shape and size. A few would use her father's boats, as the lake surrounding the Isle of Faces was quite beautiful.

While they also maintained a farm, the boat business provided extra coin for a few luxuries other smallfolk went without.

She never went without shoes or food, and had some time for leisure.

This is why she had seen a party arriving at dawn. She went inside and alerted her father. The man changed into his clean shirt and went to greet the travelers, in case they were a customer.

Geyle followed, observing from the shadows. Most of the group were made of odd-looking people, with overly large eyes and small statures. She had never seen anything like them before. At the head of the group was a boy a little older than her, with curls that looked like burnished copper in the light. She was suddenly struck with a notion to run her fingers through his curls. How odd.

She watched as her father agreed to lease a boat and act as navigator. It appeared the boy wanted to go to the Isle itself. She had only heard of such things from her father's stories of men going there to serve the Old Gods.

She continued to watch as the boy said goodbye to his group, grasping the hand of a girl about his age. He carefully took his pack and climbed into the boat her father brought out. He waved goodbye as the group turned and left as the boy sailed to the Isle. They had even taken his horse with them. Was the boy going to become one of the Green Men?

She decided to ask her father when he returned.

Stannis watched Shireen study the machine. Maester Luwin was there to ensure no harm came to her. She found the idea quite exciting and he had to admit the idea had merit. Perhaps he could arrange for Maester Cressen to build one?

After all, it would handle scribe work in no less than half the time.

"Unfortunately, the binding process still takes time, so it is not quite as expedient as one would hope." Luwin was telling Shireen.

"What goes into the binding process?" She asked the Maester. For most children her age, the subjects would be considered quite advanced, but Shireen was often advanced for her age.

Indeed, it seemed to be becoming a more common occurrence. Lady Sansa's words were meant to be said from someone much older. There was a careful approach, using sigils and symbols to get across her meaning. It was obvious someone would poison Jon Arryn if given the chance. Though, he was unsure of what House may have had a frog sigil.

"But surely there are cheaper alternatives for making parchment?" He heard his daughter ask.

"None that have been found. While certain materials are useful for absorbing ink, a lot of them are high in cost or time." Luwin told her.

Shireen got a look on her face, one she tended to have when she was trying to think of a solution. He decided she'd had enough for the day and had her say her goodbyes to the Maester. If he let her, she would have likely stayed in the room all day, thinking out the problem.

He had been happy that she had been able to be around so many children, almost all of whom enjoyed her company. It wouldn't do to let her waste that time.

Mya had been unsure of why her Kingly Father asked her to escort the Princess to the solar for, but they had been getting to know each other and she listened.

Myrcella, her sister, was a gentle girl that she was beginning to adore, despite the ten years between their ages. As such, it was no hardship to spend more time with her.

When they entered, Father motioned for them to sit. He offered them a snack, which Myrcella accepted, but Mya declined.

"Mya, I've asked you here as this will affect you too." She was even more confused now. "Cella, I trust you've been enjoying your time here?"

Myrcella nodded happily, her blonde curls bouncing. "Oh yes, Father. Everyone here has been so nice. I've been learning a lot and Lady Arya and Lady Sansa have let me pet their Ice Dragons." The girl's voice took on a dreamy quality.

"I've been doing some talking with Ned, Lord Stark" he clarified for Myrcella "and he's agreed to let you foster here."

"Can I really? What has Tommen said? I imagine he'll be thrilled to stay." The girl had clapped her hands.

"Sweetling, Tommen will be returning to the Capital. You will stay here with Mya, and eventually marry here." Father took on a soft voice.

"But I can't be away from Tommen. Joffrey will hurt him!" The girl blurted. Mya tensed. What kind of person, let alone a sibling, would hurt someone as harmless as Tommen? He cried when he heard the Lady Sansa's story of Rumpelstiltskin.

"I won't let anything happen to Tommen, I promise, my dear girl." Father scooped Myrcella into his arms and hugged her. He beckoned Mya over to him as well.

"You'll watch over your sister, won't you?" He looked at her with the same blue eyes she saw in the looking glass. She nodded and was brought into the hug.

Tywin Lannister was growing concerned. He had been hearing rumours concerning the North that made him wary.

He had been informed of the dragon eggs uncovered. It gave the North a great deal more wealth, which had its advantages and disadvantages. Then, the King decided to see them for himself and Tywin's daughter foolishly stayed behind. Didn't she understand opportunity when she saw it? And insisting Joffrey stay behind as well. How could he hope to rule when he was stuck at his mother's side?

Pycelle had informed him as such.

The other rumours and information he received gave him pause. The idea that the Stark girl had been able to find the eggs after a vision from the Old Gods was ludicrous. She had simply had delusions and gotten lucky. Then there was a claim that the eggs hatched. Had it been anyone but Ned Stark, he would have dismissed it out of hand. But Stark was too sensible and honorable to make such a claim.

So, Tywin sought out his brother Kevan's advice.

"What we have is information that is being fed to us. We need to have it verified for ourselves." Kevan said sensibly.

"Indeed. I would send you, but you are needed elsewhere." Tywin stated.

"What about Tyrion? You are always saying he needs something other than wine and whores to occupy him."

Tywin frowned. The idea had merit, but it would not do to have the Imp embarrass the Lannister name. He would have to think on the matter.

Last one for the night.

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Tyrion waddled up the steps to his father's solar. At almost twenty name days, he had come to hate being summoned by his father. After all, the lecture he had received last time still rang in his ears.

He heard a sharp "Enter" as he knocked and went inside.

His father sat at his desk and peered at him as he sat down.

"Tyrion," his Lord Father began "I will be sending you to the North. There have been rumours of late that need to be seen to."

"Rumours, Father?"

"Yes, I would like you to go and report the situation. You will be escorted by your cousin Lyonel to ensure you do not spend your time gallivanting with whores and making a mockery of us." Father did not even bother looking up from his reports.

"I see. Very well, I shall spend the time instead look into every whisper of grumpkins and snarks that is as much as thought of in the North." Tyrion said.

"Tyrion." Father sharply rebuked. "This is an important trip. What little we have confirmed makes little sense and it is best that we find out the truth for ourselves. You always claim you want some responsibility and this is your chance. If you don't like it, I can always have you continue with your work on the drainage for the Rock."

Tyrion became serious. "I understand Father. I shall do my best."

"See that you do. Now, Lyonel is currently overseeing arrangements, so make sure you are prepared." With that, his father dismissed him.

Tyrion left, thinking of what could be in the North.

Isolde was growing. I admit, the short amount of time I've had her, I did not pay much attention. But, when she became too large to sit on my shoulder comfortably, it became obvious.

So, I adjusted to her sitting on my head. She was still light enough that the weight did not bother and she puffed up as people noticed. I couldn't help the idea that she was a bit of a show off.

At least at that particular moment, it was justified. I had finished my research concerning the weaknesses of the Others, including the change of names for the substances over the years.

Obsidian and the material old Ice was made out of would kill the White Walkers. And fire worked on wights. I had found references to such in several tomes, both in the Old Tongue and in the Andal language.

With my proof, we had a chance to advance the plans for survival.

And so, I arranged a meeting with Father Ned, Bobby B, and Stannis. I had gone over what to say and what steps needed to be taken. I only hoped that they would listen.

"Your Grace, Father, Lord Stannis, I thank you for meeting with me." I began. Isolde sat cheerfully, her purr soothed my nerves.

"Of course, Sansa. Now, what is this about?" Father Ned asked.

"I have stated in the past that we have to prepare for the Long Night, but we did not know what would be needed." Father Ned nodded along and the King and Stannis glanced at each other. "I have read every book I could concerning the records of what exactly happened in the last Long Night. I have found several references to the weaknesses being Glytter Glass, which later evolved to Dragon Glass, as the appearance of dragons like the Targaryans had. Thus, dragon glass weapons will be needed and can be widely distributed in large enough quantities."

"Dragonstone has mining facilities for the material." Stannis stated.

I nodded. "I remember learning so, and as such, I was hoping for you to be able to begin mining it and begin with sending it to the Night's Watch." I turned to King Bobby. "Your Grace, this is why I've also asked you to come." He gave me a confused look. "The Night's Watch is at an ultimate low in men, supplies, and experienced fighters. It needs more men. I was hoping you could aid in filling their numbers and supplies."

He nodded, somewhat wary.

"Father, I have also found references to the material our family's original sword is made from. It appears it can be used as well."

"The weapons from the Broken Tower…" Father Ned mumbled.

"Yes. It appears to be referred to as Northern Ice, which is why we had trouble finding references to the sword before. It appears to be a material that was forged by the Starks once upon a time." I showed him my notes.

"What about wights?" Asked Stannis. "I know the stories as well as anyone, where there are Others, the risen dead clear their way."

"There was a great emphasis on the burning of bodies in my research. The practice only died out a few centuries before the Andal invasion. I have theorised that they can be affected by fire and the burning of bodies was done as a preventative measure." I shuffled my other notes, Isolde nibbling on my ear. I handed the correct notes to Stannis.

"I have also made a list of every book I found the relevant information in, in order to further help in other research in the subject." I informed them.

I could only hope this was enough.

Joffrey was quite irritated.

First, Cella and Tommen weren't there for him to play with, and he had such lovely games to involve them in, too. Second, his Mother made him go with her to meetings. He didn't see the point, after all his Father never attended and the Kingdom was still standing. But his Mother told him that a good future King attended the meetings, so he went with only a little fuss. Third, he had understood there to be dragons in the North, which meant that Myrcella and Tommen got to see them before him! How dare they! He would show them. He would get a dragon of his own.

And so, when he was able to spend time away from his Mother, he ordered a guard to escort him down to where the dragon bones lay. Perhaps he would find an egg of his own there. The guard was reluctant, so Joffrey threatened punishment if he didn't do as told.

And so, Joffrey was down in the dungeon where there were rows of dragon skulls, ranging from the size of a dog to those that he could fit into the mouth of without issue. He looked around, ordering the guard to aid in his quest.

They had gotten to the end with little luck and Joffrey was quite upset. It just wasn't fair! And so, he took it out on the dragon skull closest to him, hitting his hands against the unforgiving material and making him regret his actions a moment later.

He was just about to give up entirely when he noticed something gleaming slightly in the light. He ordered the guard to collect whatever it was.

The guard came back with a jar in the shape of an apple. How odd. He looked closer at it, deciding he would show Mother. He walked back towards the normal part of the Red Keep when he tripped.

Joffrey knew no more.

Myrcella looked at Bran as they played. She was unsure whether he would make a good husband. True, he played games with her and showed her some of the more interesting parts of Winterfell, but he was also younger than her and she didn't think him as handsome as Robb.

That was another problem. She understood that if Robb Stark returned, she would marry him instead. While handsome, she did not know him. She wondered if she wanted to marry at all. After all, she had seen how unhappy Mother and Father had been and she wanted a happier life than that.

Then again, she had heard Lady Stark was supposed to marry Lord Stark's older brother, but he died. And they seemed happy enough in their marriage.

Myrcella shook her head as she and Tommen battled against Shireen and Bran. There was still plenty of time to think on it. Right now, she wanted to beat her cousin.

So yeah, we've got Tyrion heading North and the beginnings of a plan for the future, as well as Myrcella thinking of her future.

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#214

Stannis had his doubts after meeting with the Stark girl.

"She has put a lot of effort into this." He muttered as looked through her notes. They were detailed, organised in a way that referenced other parts in an attempt at connection.

"That she has. She waited until she found the eggs to tell me about her vision in the first place. She then spent every minute she could finding further proof about what she had seen. My daughter has waited to tell us until she was absolutely sure. It often feels as though she doesn't trust what she was given." Lord Stark stated in agreement.

"I suppose it is better for her to do this than to go spouting off to everyone, claiming things without proof, being called deluded and simple after her fever." Robert stated.

That gave Stannis pause. If the girl was truly so cautious, why did she give him a warning the way she did? Surely she would have had some way of proving her message? Or did she tell him this to have him gain the proof for her? He rubbed his head as he thought about the girl's actions.

He would have to do his own research when he got back to the Capital.

Jon Arryn had been on his way back to the Red Keep after buying a toy for his son from the markets. He constantly worried about his boy, as he was of a sickly disposition. But Lysa was able to be a dedicated mother to him and he was glad she was able to take some of the burden off of his shoulders.

While theirs was not the happiest of marriages, both he and Lysa were dedicated to Sweetrobin (as Lysa would call him.)

And so, when he was knocked to the ground by a deafening boom, his heart began to sink as he looked up to the Red Keep and saw sickly green flames emerge.

He ordered his guards to go ahead of him and ensure his wife and child's safety. He had hoped the guards left at the Red Keep were able to do so, but he had no idea if they were even alive.

He shoved a few coins at a man and took his horse. He had no time to lose.

Archmaester Nimoy had been enjoying lunch with Archmaester Q, discussing the common mistakes of their acolytes.

"I'm sure you had your own share of mistakes." Archmaester Q remarked.

"Aye, I will admit to it. I can still recall making Archmaester Pyke nearly tear his hair out with my questions. Admittedly, I was impatient and did not yet realise that I was learning the answers."

"I believe I can still recall him cursing out a young acolyte by the name of Leonid Nimoy." Archmaester Q remarked. Odd, how long had Archmaester Q been there? To have had such a rapport when Nimoy had been a mere acolyte was a long time indeed. And yet, the man looked younger than himself.

"You know, that reminds me, we have been colleagues all this time, but I do not believe I know your first name. You clearly know mine, so I am at a disadvantage."

Archmaester Q looked thoughtful. "You know, I can't recall how long it has been since someone has asked me that. The truth is that Q is my only name." He must have noticed the skepticism of Nimoy's face, because he continued "Not everyone has more than one name. I just happen to have a letter instead."

Nimoy thought about that. Yes, it did make sense. He knew that the Citadel welcomed all types to learn. Perhaps Archmaester Q simply had lower origins than what would be assumed by his manner said.

Then again, the man had always been a mountain of contradictions. Nimoy thought so as he sipped his tea.

Lord Arryn arrived at the Red Keep to find a swarm of people escaping. He asked a few servants as he passed. From what he could gather, few knew where it had started, only having felt a force and heat.

He navigated his way to the Tower of the Hand, grateful to find it further away from the flames than he had feared.

He passed a man carrying a burned husk with blonde hair that seemed to be breathing. How anyone could have survived in such shape amazed Arryn.

He arrived to find his wife curled around their son and refusing to go with the guards.

"Lysa!" He shouted. "We need to go. We have to get as far away as we safely can. Wildfire is in the Red Keep. It won't stop. Now, please come. Robin's health depends on it." She took his hand, her other holding their baby boy. He placed them on the horse he had ridden in on and nudged it into action.

Fortunately, leaving the Red Keep was a much easier endeavour than entering and they were able to get out in a shorter time. The horse was lathered, so he helped his family off of it and they joined the crowd.

Little Robin was wailing, as he never did like crowds, so Jon pulled out the toy he had bought that morning, somehow having stayed intact. It was able to sufficiently distract his boy long enough for them to find a new horse and cart.

By sunset, smallfolk, servants, and nobles watched as the structure that once was the Red Keep fell.

Bran had been following his sister Arya. It wasn't that he wanted to annoy her, but he wanted to avoid Myrcella.

When he had been told he might marry the princess, he understood that he would have to live with her, like Mother and Father did. He supposed they could do so. After all, while Shireen was more fun, Myrcella held her own.

Unfortunately, Myrcella decided that meant they had to spend time doing boring stuff together, like gardening. He liked dirt and flowers fine, but that didn't mean he wanted to spend all day on it!

And so, since Sansa was busy doing boring things like reading, Arya was his next choice.

While he could have gone to play with the other guests, none of them had dragons. Only Arya and Sansa had dragons. He wanted a dragon of his own, but didn't want to ask in case he hurt Arya and Sansa's feelings. After all, their dragons were beautiful. And if he asked for one, they might be offended.

"I told you to go away, stupid." Arya said as she noticed him behind her.

"But I want to play." He told her.

"Well I don't. Why don't you go bother someone else? There are lots of people here you can play with."

"But you have Valkyrie!" He got angry.

Arya turned around. "Is that what this is about? Because I have a dragon and you don't?"

Shamefaced, he answered "No. Valkyrie just makes playing more fun."

Arya gave him a raised eyebrow the same way Mother did when she thought he was lying.

"How about this, we'll find Shireen and the Prince and Princess and you can borrow Valkyrie to play." She conceded.

Bran beamed. "Thank you, thank you! I won't even mind playing with Myrcella if Valkyrie is there." He hugged her tightly.

Arya just ruffled his hair.

In anticipation of my best friend having her baby, here is a slightly faster update.

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Jon Arryn was beyond tired.

He had arranged for alternate housing throughout the city for the many homeless denizens. He had arranged for those that could not be placed in the manses and brothels for the night to take shelter in the Dragonpit and the Sept.

He had to arrange for men to place up fire breaks, in the hopes that they might aid in preventing it from spreading with the wind. He knew Wildfire would continue where regular fire would die out, but it was better than letting the city go up in flames.

One of the guards had mentioned sand helping in dealing with some types of fires, so he had also arranged for sand from the Blackwater to be transported to the Red Keep.

Now, he was on his way to speak to a member of the Alchemist's Guild that had been located and arrested.

As he entered the tent that held the man, he took a good look at the man. He was a young man with brown hair and a fearful look. He could only hope he had some knowledge.

"Do you know who I am?" He began.

"You're Hand of the King." The almost boy whimpered.

"I am. And you are a member of the Alchemist's Guild, who specialise in creating their substance, the Wildfire. The substance that has now destroyed the Red Keep." He kept his voice calm, but clipped. Nothing made a man more fearful than when his enemy is calm.

"I swear, I don't know anything about it. I was only a boy the last time the substance was made anywhere near the Red Keep." The man blathered.

Hmmm, "It was taken there for the Mad King's trials?" That didn't explain the explosion. There was far more used in the explosion than he had heard was used in the mockery of justice the Mad King enjoyed.

"I don't know, m'lord. I was just a boy. I was promised somewhere to sleep and food in my belly. I only remember that it was before the Sacking." The man looked truly sorrowful.

"Do you know if the alchemists made any batches recently?"

"No, m'lord. I mainly worked in guarding the secret to the process. I've never made any myself or met anyone that did."

"Can you think of anyone that might have wanted to use Wildfire?" Jon Arryn asked.

"Only the older alchemists. Their always bemoaning how they never get to make it anymore. They say that the Made King was the last person that truly appreciated it, m'lord."

Lord Arryn left after that, questions swirling in his mind.

Lady Catelyn walked slowly, wanting to watch her children. Unfortunately, she would have to return to bedrest soon, so Catelyn wanted to enjoy watching her children while she could.

Thankfully, Mya and Vayon's wife were able to take care of the more strenuous duties. She would be saddened to see the girl go. Though she had her doubts when the girl first arrived, she had held her own and was becoming a young lady that a knight would happily marry.

If she hadn't been baseborn, Catelyn was generous enough to think, she could have even married a major lord.

Her children's laughter broke her thoughts. Bran and Arya were playing a game with the Princess and Sansa, Greyjoy acting as a referee and Lady Shireen cheering with the Prince.

She patted her stomach, feeling the babe settle. This one had been trying her most days, but she couldn't help but imagine how greatly they would set the world ablaze, much in the same way Arya and Sansa had done, as well as what she hoped her Robb was doing.

She wiped a tear as she thought of him, in her homelands, but so far from her and the safety of Winterfell. She hoped he found whatever he needed to and would come home. She could just imagine him coming across Ned and the King as they hunted, arriving just in time to help bring the kill to the kitchens.

How long would it be before she could see him? She couldn't even travel to the Riverlands in her condition. She had to have hope that he would return to her.

That thought brought a small smile as she watched the children.

So, there was some confusion over Joffrey's state. He's dead by his own hand. A fairly short chapter because my mind is preoccupied. So, if you do get another chapter, it will likely be just as short.

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Steampunkunicorn

Jun 8, 2018

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#248

The Seneschal was quite irritated. It was bad enough he didn't get enough time to pursue the higher academics to improve his mind, but now his time was to be wasted by ridiculous claims concerning the glass candles.

Archmaester Q had made impossible claims of one of the glass candles lighting, but only that one. Not only was there no magic to allow for it to be lit in the first place, but there had never been an instance recorded when only some of the candles lit.

Nevertheless, he was forced to make his way to Archmaester Q's domain after Leonid Nimoy had come to him, calling in a favor.

"Thank you for finally granting us with your presence, Seneschal." The tone was perfectly subservient, but he spotted a glimmer of irritation in Q's manner.

"I apologise for not coming sooner." They both knew he didn't mean it, but there were several young men around, studying, and manners must be kept.

Q escorted him to the glass candles and he saw what should have been false.

"Please, try and light the others. They are still dormant." Q motioned to the Seneschal. Though magic was not his preferred area, he remembered the procedure and tried. And tried. And tried. The others would not light, just as Q had claimed.

"It appears you are right. Have you found an answer for why such a thing has occurred?"

Archmaester Q shook his head. "I've not heard of such a thing in all my time at the Citadel and I have been looking into the histories, but have yet to find the answer."

"Please let me know as your research develops." And with that, the Seneschal left, his mind heavy.

A week passed as the King's party prepared to leave. Stannis was glad to leave. While he had learned some things that worried him. He was unsure that the Long Night was truly coming, no matter how much faith Lord Stark put in his daughter. It was simply too fantastic.

Nonetheless, he would do his duty and mine dragonglass for the Night's Watch, paid for by the Crown, at least.

At least he had arranged for Luwin to send Maester Cressen plans for the device that so enchanted his daughter. While he did not see how useful it could be, it would give her some comfort once she was by herself again.

He also spent time wondering about the message the girl gave him. She had been careful to research her other claims, but this one depended entirely on the idea that the receivers knew what was meant. Who was the mockingbird? Or even a frog? He also worried about the idea that he would willingly follow this so-called Lord of Light. He had never been particularly religious and all of this subterfuge made him less inclined to be.

There was also the claim the girl made about the shape of the Night's Watch. He had sent a man to investigate (officially, to see how much dragonglass would be needed,) as Lord Stark and the King simply seemed to trust the girl's word.

Stannis would be glad to return to the shit smell of King's Landing and the ugliness of Dragonstone.

Lord Arryn decided he would retire as soon as Robert returned. The last fortnight had simply been too much. He deserved a break, spent in his beautiful Eyrie, raising his son to be a proper Warden and Lord. He thought about the simple pleasures of that life and how nice it would be at least a dozen times each day. He hoped that Robert would understand. The man would have enough time to think about it once the messenger he sent met the King in White Harbor or sent the message via raven from there, depending on how long he decided to stay in the North.

Ever since the Wildfire first appeared, things had only gotten worse. His wife was holding their poor Robert even closer than she had before. While she had always been overprotective (something he had no issue with, concerning he was their only surviving child,) she had a fanatical edge to her, refusing to allow their son out of her sight. He had a thought to send them to the Vale ahead of him, but he worried that the boy was still too weak to survive travelling.

He shook his head at the thought as he went to deal with his other current headache, the Queen.

He entered the manse she had been relocated to and nodded to the goldcloaks and redcloaks that stood guard. He walked up to the chambers, knowing the Queen would not be elsewhere.

"There, there, sweetling. Mother's got some broth for you to make you strong." He heard her coo as she most likely patted the head of the burned man. The Maester he had assigned to the Queen had been almost entirely sure the man was the wrong size to be the prince, but Cersei refused to listen as she demanded he be brought to her to become better. Jon had tried to tell her the truth, as well as informing her that the man was almost certainly a living corpse, but she would nod and return to the body, patting the head while she had servants see to his every need.

Meanwhile, the prince had yet to be found. Jon was afraid the boy would have certainly died in the Red Keep

He walked past Jaime Lannister at the door and walked in to see the Queen.

So, just a head's up, I'll be out of town tomorrow and won't be updating then.

Last edited: Jun 8, 2018

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Steampunkunicorn

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#260

Brienne was saddened to see the King's party go. While she had been enjoying her time in Winterfell, she had Shireen and Ser Barristan Selmy to keep her company when she felt too alone (though in the case of the latter, it was more asking for lessons and some basic squiring.) While she found Lady Dacey a good teacher, she was rather awkward in dealing with the woman outside of the training yard. She had also not become good friends to the other young ladies.

And so, she felt quite lonely suddenly.

No one was cruel, at least. Not like those lords that pretended to like her had been. Most of the people had their own lives and friends and matters of importance.

Brienne was left feeling adrift as a result. She had been sent to be companion to the Stark's daughters, but they had no need of her. She found herself often taking walks when not in lessons. She kept a guard with her, but the experience was otherwise solitary.

"Hello, Lady Brienne." Jon Snow greeted on one of these walks.

"Hello." She greeted back, not entirely sure how to address him. She had met bastards before, but most did not live with their Lord Father.

"I hope I haven't disturbed your peace." The boy said and was preparing to leave.

"You haven't." She blurted. "In fact, I was hoping I hadn't done the same to you." She felt hot-faced, after all this was the Godswood. He had more right to be there than her. He had more right to everywhere in the North than her.

"No, I've finished praying." Snow told her simply.

"Were you hoping to hear from the Old Gods?" She was curious. She had heard talk of the experiences Lady Sansa and Arya had, but had also heard such an experience sent the heir from Winterfell.

Snow frowned at her. "No. I appreciate what they've done for my family, but I don't think I'd want the burden that comes with it." He shrugged, revealing an odd jacket underneath his light cloak.

"Any time I've heard it spoken of, I admit, it has always been said to be a blessing." Brienne thought about the revered words spoken by the servants.

"Any blessing has its price, my lady. Sansa has uncovered secrets of the past, but she has seen horrors that have not yet come and strives to ensure what she has seen is, in fact, correct. Arya has become the Dragon Hatcher, but she was unconscious for several days. If she had been gone from us longer, her body may have given out. Robb is supposedly on a journey to show himself Stark and aid the North, but his leaving nearly caused the loss of a Stark not yet to be, as well as whatever price he may have to pay while gone from us." Snow's voice was filled with sadness by the end.

"It sounds rather unfortunate, then." Brienne commented.

"Aye. I would not want some great destiny nor the price that comes with it. I am too simple for that, my lady. A good position, possibly a keep, and a wife one day would be enough for me." He smiled shyly as he admitted it.

"Tis a good dream to have. I wish you all the best in achieving it." She told him honestly. It was a lovely idea. "Would you care to join me for my walk?"

Snow nodded and they walked in peace.

And at that moment, Brienne didn't feel alone.

Cersei Baratheon prayed. She had never been particularly faithful to the Gods, not when her mother had been taken from her. But at that moment, she wanted nothing more than for the Gods to work their miracles.

Her precious baby, her golden lion was so badly hurt. She knew he was Joffrey. After all, how could they think his own mother wouldn't recognise him? She knew it in her bones. And so, she ordered for every burn treatment to be brought forth and enough milk of the poppy to make him feel better.

He would recover. He had to.

She wasn't going to let the words that long haunted her come true. He had to live. He had to become the great king she knew he could be.

What care had she for the rest of the capitol?

Jaime would guard them from their enemies. Arryn had seen to people's cares, like he had always done. And so, she was able to take care of her pride and joy.

Tyrion disliked his cousin. It was quite easy to do so with any of the Frey cousins, but Lyonel was especially good at making Tyrion dislike him.

From his grating voice to his refusing to allow Tyrion any fun on the way to Winterfell, he had begun to wish any other member of the Lannister clan had been with him instead, even his sweet sister.

"There are no other nearby inns." Tyrion reasoned. "Therefore, we must give our custom here."

"It is a brothel. I have promised your Lord Father to keep you from indulging your tastes. We will simply continue on until we find a more reputable inn." Lyonel droned.

"In case you forget, cousin, I am only a little man, one who has trouble riding on the best days. I cannot continue where others can. As such, I have no intention of going further. I will not partake, if you wish, but I will rest." Tyrion was quite fed up and began to detach himself from his saddle.

He could hear Lyonel protesting, but his legs nearly gave way as he stood on the ground. He would no doubt at least need a massage for his twisted limbs. While he promised not to partake, his cousin would surely have no problem in him paying for such a service?

And so, that night he was kept company by a lovely young lady with nimble fingers. His muscles were thankful for it the next day.

Jun 9, 2018

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#263

Viserys walked the streets, carefully guarding the food. Tyrosh was not safe for someone that stood out. And in his faded clothes and silver hair, he made an easy target for those less well-off and as greedy as reputed. Still, he had to go out.

He had been able to find a bit of work. Nothing demeaning for a prince, at least. He had been hired to capture snails that were amongst the largest exports. The tradesman could not afford enough slaves yet to keep up with demand and allowed Viserys to work in exchange for a bit of money.

He crept down the alleyways as he entered the poorer part of the city, ever-vigilant.

"Dany?" He asked softly.

"It's safe." She answered in the Common Tongue. Relieved, he entered.

He was thankful that his sister had been learning High Valyrian during their time there. If she answered in such, he would have known they had visitors who may have been trouble.

"I've brought dinner for tonight." He presented her the bag. She smiled as she saw what was inside. He had probably overpaid, but to see the look on her face when presented with her favorite oranges. She had their mother's smile.

"How did you find them?" Dany asked.

"I got lucky. Now, shall we enjoy our treat?"

Dany nodded.

They ate a lovely meal of oranges and a meat pie he had bought with what had been left from his pay.

"So, what did you do while I was away?" He was worried she might not realise the danger they were in from their family's enemies.

"I talked with Lyashi next door. She had such a story. She claimed that her father heard it at the docks." Dany told him between bites.

"What is the story?" He loved to hear his sister tell him about her day. He could pretend it was a normal part of her education, learning a variety of subjects any ruler would need to know about their people.

"Apparently there are Ice Dragons in Westeros." Viserys nearly dropped the orange. Dragons? How was that possible?

"Ice Dragons?"

Dany nodded, oblivious to his feelings. "Apparently the Starks found them and hatched them, like our family did with regular dragons. I've never heard of such a thing. Have you?"

He cooled his anger. Such tales are rather unlikely and can even change the further away they were. "I remember reading a legend about them once, but I know our type of dragon better."

"We should find an egg and hatch it." She told him, her bright smile wanting to spread cheer.

"We should. I don't quite know how to hatch them, but if we find one, we'll do our best." He told her.

They finished their meal in silence before he sent her to bed. He walked out of the building and down the alley until he found a sturdy wall and punched until his hands were coated in blood.

How dare they!? He was the dragon and he was forced to work for his food! And yet, there were traitors that dared to even have tales and rumours about finding dragons! Oh, how he would make them pay! He was the dragon and once he took back the crown, he would go North and kill all the traitors and claim their dragons for his own.

As blood and tears fell into the ground, he wanted nothing more than to be home.

"I am the dragon." He whispered. "I am the dragon."

Cersei continued to pray at her son's bedside night and day. She had never wanted the Gods to be more real than in that moment. She refused to leave his side, lest he should be taken away from her. As it was, she threw a goblet at the Maester that dared to tell her that her beloved Joffrey would die.

"Your Grace," Lord Arryn entered. She didn't bother responding and continued to stroke her baby's hair. "Your Grace, it has been weeks now. You have had little rest. At least take a bit of time to clean and change your clothes. It would be better for the young man. The Maester said that if there is hope of him surviving, he must be kept in the cleanest environment. That includes yourself."

"Do you honestly believe I could leave my son until he wakes?" She growled. He had suggested such before, but she could not bear it. She had arranged a cot for herself to sleep in and a maid to watch and wake her if there was any change. "Which Maester told you this? Where is the doddering fool, Pycelle?"

"He perished in the Red Keep, Your Grace. His body was one of the few that could be correctly identified." Arryn informed her diplomatically.

"I will not allow my son to die." She told him. "If I must clean, bring a tub and a screen. I will make do. I need to stay with my Joffrey." She finally looked up at him. How dared the old man stand there, unharmed, while her sweet lion lay with such pain that he was unable to wake?

Lord Arryn sighed. "Very well, I will inform Ser Jaime and send up the tub and screen."

With that, she turned her focus back to the cot. He would survive. She just knew it.

King Robert was relieved to arrive at White Harbor. While he had enjoyed seeing Ned, there was a lot he hated about the journey. He still wondered how he would justify not only not getting an egg, but also that two of the eggs hatched and belonged to Ned's daughters. And what political move did he make? He gave them a princess as well. He hoped he could get Jon to believe it was done to bind the North further to the Crown. Jon was always wanting a political explanation for his actions.

He had also thought about how he would explain the sudden need to check on his bastards. Perhaps stating the truth would work? Jon could figure out a way to explain the time and expense concerning it. There was a voice within him that ached to say that he was the King, he didn't need to explain his actions, but that was too close to the Mad King's reactions for his taste.

They were greeted with great fanfare as they returned to the port city, the Manderly girls wanting to go ahead, but held back by royal protocol. In truth, until they were returning, he had forgotten they'd even joined the court.

"Your Grace," Lord Manderly greeted as they entered his domain. Odd, he looked vaguely worried. "I'm afraid there is terrible news."

Robert wanted to groan. "Something had better be on fire." He mumbled before asking what the news was.

"We have received a messenger informing us that the Red Keep caught fire and is destroyed. He said it was Wildfire."

Huh, he was not expecting that.

Well, Viserys hasn't quite gone crazy yet (but he hasn't sold the crown yet, so it might just be a matter of time.) I had a good night and am happy to give you one more update before bed. Now remember, I won't be posting tomorrow since I'll be away all day. Enjoy!

Last edited: Jun 9, 2018

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Steampunkunicorn

Jun 9, 2018

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Steampunkunicorn

Jun 10, 2018

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#277

Now that the royal visit was over (aside from Myrcella staying, changing things even further) life in Winterfell was able to fall into a routine of sorts.

Mother Cat had been doing as much as she could from her now permanent bedrest, but the other duties were handled by Septa Mordane and Mya. I will admit to being a little surprised at how much Mya threw herself into the work, but she had bloomed in it. It also made me realise that I had been spending less time in between lessons with others than I needed to.

And so, I had arranged a fun game for everyone. Though I had trouble finding a decent substitute for a proper basketball, I did find a leather ball slightly smaller and incorporated a few guidelines from other sports to make for a fun time.

Brienne and Jon had tag-teamed themselves and worked smoothly at beating my team. I had hoped that Brienne was fitting in and this was a good sign, at least.

So, when I was summoned to Father Ned's solar, I was in high spirits.

That lasted only long enough for him to inform me of what a message from White Harbor had relayed. Then I threw up.

I could feel Isolde licking me, similar to a dog, in comfort. I had managed to hit a chamber pot, so there was at least some good news.

Father Ned's look was downright angry. "Did you know this would happen? That there was a risk to everyone in King's Landing?"

I nodded, afraid that I may have made a misstep. "It wasn't supposed to happen for years." I spoke so quietly, he may have not even heard me. "I didn't have proof. There's only one person that knew and I couldn't ask him without some suspicion and I thought we had time." I'll admit, I began crying as I said that. I couldn't help but imagine the sickly green glow of the flames, of people dying, of the damage it could do.

"I think you had best tell me everything from your vision, proof or no proof shown." He told me, gentle with a bit of steel in his tone.

And so, I began.

He had awoke to pain. This wasn't new. It had felt like forever since he had last been without pain. Fortunately, he was only awake for short periods of time (though they had felt long enough to him.)

He had often heard a woman crying over him. It wasn't his mother. He remembered that she was too far away and the woman with him had a much lighter voice.

He felt the broth slide down his throat, each gulp another spasm of pain within him.

He wanted to go back to sleep, to forget his pain. He wanted nothing more than to forget.

He knew he had forgotten other things, so why not the pain? He could not remember his father and did not know what his mother looked like. He knew he did not even know his own name. What kind of man could forget that?

Yet, he could not forget the pain.

Stannis resisted the urge to pull his hair out as he read the long missive that had been sent with the messenger. How could something like this happen?

The Red Keep had been destroyed completely, the death tolls were rising, and they were several weeks away, unable to help those most affected.

Hells, it had been weeks since the event occurred. Who knew what more damage could have been incurred?

Yet, that girl thought he needed to discuss birds that were snakes and future-predicting frogs? Though that did raise the question, did the girl know about the possibility of this happening? If so, why did she not warn them? If not, then she could not be relied upon to be accurate and her odd words were useless.

He knew he would have to think on the matter.

So, yeah, my SI was just a little too cautious. Here's an update to hold you over.

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Steampunkunicorn

Jun 10, 2018

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Steampunkunicorn

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#286

Lord Stark was angry, frightened, and tired. He had kept Sansa with him, listening to every detail she could remember. Some of it made him proud, other parts made him weep for what had been laid out for his family. Still, other parts he wanted to deny. The last part was why he believed every word. Sansa had been careful to have proof, simply because it could not be believed otherwise. Jon Arryn being poisoned by his wife? Direwolves south of the Wall? Wargs? Guest right broken? Kinslaying? It was all too much.

And he listened to all of it.

He had their meals sent up and listened to her tale far into the morning after. They were both exhausted. He had held her at the more upsetting points. She had shook and cried and threw up the contents of her stomach more than once.

To think she had been carrying all of this around for nearly a year…

He had wanted nothing more than to take her burden and leave his sweet girl untouched by it all. But it was out of his hands and there was nothing he could do about it.

Instead he would have to think of a plan. He would have to become the type of man his Father had wanted Brandon to become. He would have to be a true Northern Wolf.

It was the only way to survive.

He awoke, able to open his eyes. The pain was still there, but it had been muted. Instead, he was able to focus on his surroundings. He was in silk sheets and a woman with blonde curls cooed at him.

Where was he?

The room was more luxurious than his mind expected, but he couldn't say why. The woman called him her baby, her Joffrey, but it sounded odd to his ears. Was that supposed to be his name?

He tried to move, despite the pain. A force pushed him back down. "No, your grace, you are not yet healed enough. If you were to rise, you would increase your risk of infection." The man that spoke had a kind face and warm eyes, if a bit shabby in his appearance.

The man then turned to the woman. "I have decreased the risk of infection, but he should not leave the bed for the time being if he is to survive. I'm afraid his burns will alter his looks completely by the time he is healed, but he will be able to live a reasonable life."

"You are sure?" He could hear desperation in her voice.

"Aye, I have treated burn victims in my wanderings and know more about the body than anyone in Oldtown. It can be quite resilient when needed. The worst is over, but he still has much healing to do." The man told her kindly.

"Of course, whatever needs to be done. I cannot lose him."

He tried to focus on the conversation, but it soon faded to nothing as sleep claimed his soul.

Dale was ready to set sail. He hated remaining in port at White Harbor for so long, but it was necessary for repairs, restocking, and to wait for the return of the King's party.

The messenger arrived a mere two days before the King and Dale was ordered to aid in making the boat sail as quickly as possible, just as soon as everyone was aboard.

Thus, he waited impatiently to begin the journey and leave the North far behind him.

"Dale!" He heard a cry.

"Hello m'lady." He grinned at Shireen. She looked so happy. She must not have known yet. Still, the North seemed to have a positive effect on her. She glowed with a lightness that made her scars seem smaller.

"I've missed you." She told him, honest and blunt as her father.

"I've missed you as well, m'lady. Tis not the same passing the time without needing to wrangle you and the Prince and Princess or listening to your tales. I hope you have some new tales for me." He teased her.

"Oh, that I do." She was smiling so wide, he thought she might hurt something. "And your brothers will be incredibly jealous that I told you first."

"I imagine they will, m'lady. Now, we set sail soon, but how about you decide which story to tell me after supper?"

Shireen blushed at that. "I'm sorry to be interrupting your work,"

"Nonsense, I've always have time for a beautiful, kind-hearted lass like you, m'lady." He cut her off.

"Very well. I shall see you and your father at dinner." And with that, she left. Dale returned to his work, resisting the urge to look around the deck, knowing he wouldn't see lovely blue eyes returning his gaze.

Bran walked into his mother's rooms, missing her. He had been told that she was making a baby and that took a lot out of her. When he asked how she made it and if he could help, he was given no answers. And so, he decided to see her.

"Mother?" He walked up to her bed. "Mother?" He tugged on the blanket.

"Hello sweetling." Mother told him, sleepily. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you and help you make the baby. Does it look like Robb? I miss him." He grabbed a little stool from nearby and carried it to the bed.

"I wish you could help. Your little sibling is quite troublesome." She told him as he climbed onto the bed, near her feet. He crawled up the fur and looked at her.

"Why can't I?" He pouted.

"Because, the babe is inside my stomach." She took his hand and pulled it to the increasing bump. "Like a plant, we have to wait for them to grow right now. The only thing we can do is wait. Then, their harvest time will come."

Bran nodded, thinking that the baby might have looked like a squash or a turnip.

"But if the baby's growing, how does making it tire you? Does it hurt you?" Bran was suddenly worried. Had he hurt Mother when he had been in there?

"You know that you must eat well in order to grow taller, like Robb and Sansa?" Bran nodded, not quite sure why she started talking about them instead of the baby. "They baby can't eat food yet, but it still has to grow. So, they take some of the energy I get from food to finish growing."

"Do all babies do this?"

"Yes, sweetling. Though, this one will likely be a big baby, given how tired they make me."

"Can't you tell it to stop making you tired?" Mother was always telling him what to do.

"No, the baby can't control it. Instead, I have to remain in bed, so they won't make me overdo my duties."

Bran nodded and curled into his Mother, unsure of what else to ask.

Been a while since we checked on Lady Cat, so here's some bonding between her and Bran. I was tempted to write out the whole explanation, but not only would it be way too long, it would also just be a rehash. As I said before, though, this is based like 80-85% off the books.

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Steampunkunicorn

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Steampunkunicorn

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#290

Maester Luwin looked up from the plan that Lord Stark had presented for the North.

"This is unprecedented." was all he could say.

"Aye, but given what may happen, this will be necessary." Lord Stark looked grim at the idea.

"It will also cost a great deal." He commented.

"Yes, but we can currently afford it. Not only that, but the money will be remade. I have ensured a plan in order to avoid frittering money away or needing a loan." Lord Stark pointed out. It was true. The plan, though expensive, had a solid account for the money and return on said investments.

"No doubt such sudden moves may be seen as troubling to the South." Luwin sighed. Though he had spent most of his life in the North, his years at the Citadel did teach him how the Reach and, by extension, the rest of the South viewed the North and how the plan would be considered as a declaration against the Crown by all except the King.

"At this point, it is more about survival than anything they will imagine. The things Sansa has told me…We will do all of this and it may not be enough. There is so much that I cannot do yet. I could destroy the Seven Kingdoms with the truths of her vision."

Luwin frowned. "What secrets could do that?"

"Things that you could scarcely imagine. For right now, we will focus on this, so we may at least have the tools to be ready for everything else."

"Very well, I will send out the ravens and draw up the right plans." Luwin knew he would be a busy man. Perhaps he could convince an acolyte or a man that left before completing his chain to come to Winterfell? It was something that would need to be considered as his burden grew larger.

Jon entered Father's solar with trepidation. He was not sure why he had been summoned. He had not done anything troublesome nor had he been underfoot. He had even made sure to keep from bothering Mya during her increasing duties. Perhaps he wanted to know about the friendship between him and Lady Brienne?

"Sit, Jon." His Lord Father told him as he finished some work.

Jon sat and waited for his father to finish.

"Jon," His father began "there is much to discuss." Did that mean this was to tell him about his mother? Oh, how he longed to know. "I wanted to inform you that I have considered possible keeps for you. It is easier to restore one rather than build anew." While not as exciting, Jon was still glad of the subject. He wondered where he would be given. "I have decided to restore Sea Dragon Point for you. Though thinly populated, it is a good location and has a lot of potential."

Jon looked at the map hanging on the wall of the solar. It was a good location, far enough away from the Glovers to avoid offense, surrounded by water, allowing for good fishing. They would have to be wary of Wildings and Ironborn, but it was possible.

"Thank you Father."

"It will be some time before you are to have it. As I said, there is need to restore it and that will take time. Now, we must discuss something else of great importance."

After his hopes had been raised, it had been too much to think he would still hear the truth of his parentage at this point. "What is it, Father?"

"With Princess Myrcella fostering here and betrothed to Bran at the moment, it has also given me cause to think about possible matches for the rest of you. Given the last few generations of marriages, this betrothal may not be met with too much pleasure from our bannermen. As such, you will need to marry a Northern girl, as your sisters will also be making Northern matches." His heart ached at the thought. While he had hoped for a marriage, his dreams had begun to form a specific shape for his wife.

"Of course, Father."

"Now, during the Lords' Meeting, did you meet anyone agreeable?"

Jon thought back. Most of the daughters had been interested in Robb or ignored him completely, as was their right in having higher rank and him without a possible keep at the time. He shook his head. "I did not spend much time around anyone outside of our household."

"I see. I remember the Manderly girls arriving during King Robert's visit. Did you like either one of them?"

Again, he had been ignored, even without Robb being there for them to admire. "Not particularly, Father."

Lord Stark sighed. "Very well, I will make enquiries to my bannermen concerning some of their younger daughters and those that you have not yet met."

Jon nodded, grateful his father was trying to make him happy.

He awoke to the sounds of arguing.

"I have let you go on with this delusion of yours because he would have almost certainly died. Now, I am forced to tell you—that is not Joffrey!" A masculine voice carried.

"It is him. I know it with every fiber of my being Lord Arryn. Do you honestly believe a mother would not recognise her own son, especially one as devoted as I?" The woman's voice was angry.

"I believe it is because you are such a mother that you do this. You do not want to face the truth. Joffrey is dead." A sharp crack interrupted. "He died in the Red Keep. There is probably so little to find of him that we will never be able to identify him, but surely he would have made his way to you by now?"

"He doesn't need to. He is right here. My Joffrey is lying in bed, barely alive, because of those Alchemists. They have no right to their lives after harming the crown like this."

"The Alchemists have been officially disbanded and the elder members have been executed, as they were the most likely to have made the amounts that destroyed the Red Keep."

He groaned as his head hurt from trying to make sense of what he was hearing. It was too much. The whole world was too much.

"Oh, my darling boy." He heard the woman tut at him. "Here, some broth for you. You need your strength, after all." The liquid barely hurt as it was swallowed.

He was asleep before he could finish the bowl.

Lord Arryn arrived at the manse his family had been occupying for some time. He felt like he had been hitting his head against a stone wall. To be honest, he had begun feeling that way since he had learned the burned young man would most likely live. While the Queen was a good and devoted mother, it had become an extreme at this point. He could only hope that the King returned with their other children in some haste. Perhaps the Queen could be convinced then?

"Father!" His own boy cried, shakily walking to him. Jon met him halfway and scooped him into his arms.

His aching head forgotten, he turned to his wife, smiling at the sight before him. Though he had never cared for her, nor she for him, their boy was everything good about each other and every accomplishment he achieved was truly a proud moment. She smiled a small smile back.

"And what have my beautiful wife and brave boy done today?"

"Father, we played and I had no shakes!" His boy told him.

"All day?"

"Yes." That came from his wife. Her mild tone giving no hint to the pride he was sure she had for their boy. "The Maester was pleased that their lesson went uninterrupted and then Sweetrobin wanted to play. I escorted him to the garden and watched over him the entire time."

Jon put little Robert down, pleased that his boy had been able to handle such. "How I wish I could have stayed with you and played, my boy."

"Why couldn't you?" His son's eyes were so big and it broke his heart that his duty kept him away from his family so much.

"I am taking care of the Capitol until the King returns. And I have a surprise to tell you both." He looked up at Lysa. She frowned, as expected. He had learned the hard way that she was never one for surprises. "I have decided that, when the King returns, I will resign as Hand and we will return to the Eyrie. Then, we will be able to spend so much time together."

"I see." was all she said as Robert was gleeful and demanding to know when that would be.

He remained with his son, answering every question until it was time for dinner.

So, Neddy has begun his plans. Also, while Moat Cailin is the usual go-to for fans, I couldn't help but choose Sea Dragon Point. It has a lot of potential and can aid Deepwood Motte when Asha comes calling. Also, poor Jon Arryn needs some peace when he can get it and his son is the perfect person to give it to him. Enjoy!

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Steampunkunicorn

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#294

Lysa fumed in her rooms that night. How could her husband be so cruel? She had managed to convince him to consider her beloved Petyr for a position in the Capitol only to be told her plans were for naught!

If they were to return to that dreary place, Lysa would never be able to see him outside of official meetings. The few times she was able to sneak into the city and meet him were mere drops in the never ending bucket of time. If he was able to come to the Capitol on a permanent basis and her gone, they would never see each other at all. That simply wouldn't do.

At least her son had a good day. That was the only grace of these events. She had worried so about him. She had given him the medicine the Maester made as usual. While Pycelle was no more, she was thankful the Maester she had appropriated for Sweetrobin's health had been familiar with his illness. (Though the Maester did try a different medicine, claiming it was a more recent venture that had shown good results.)

She only wished he was stronger. He was her baby, her one survivor. She had wanted a large grouping of children when she was a girl, but the tansy took that away from her, as well as her husband's seed having issues.

She thought of her child that was forever gone from her. How he and Robin would have been so close. She could imagine, Petyr's son with his striking eyes and ticklish nose, protecting her little Robin from the dangers of the world.

She would have to do something. She was sure of it. She needed Petyr, she always had. Her husband was not going to take him away from her, not when she was so close to finally having him again.

Maester Luwin sighed as he finished the plans for Moat Cailin. There was so much to do and he had so little sleep. But the plans were among the most immediate items needing to be completed. While Jon Snow's Sea Dragon Point needed work as well, Moat Cailin would go to Bran (should Robb return before Lord Stark dies) or to the next son born (or to Sansa if no more sons are given to the family.)

Moat Cailin's ruin were extensive. As such, they needed much more time and labour to restore them than other keeps had needed in the recent past. There was only the question of who would be overseeing the venture left before the actual work may begin.

He called a nearby servant to deliver the plans to Lord Stark before beginning his next task. Lord Stark had asked him to research mining surveys in order to find potential sources of fuel for heat and metals for armour.

Maester Luwin had not been so active in a long time.

Arya was feeding Valkyrie, pleased at how big her Ice Dragon was getting. The Princess and Lady Brienne were also helping to feed the creature.

She had been surprised at how much she enjoyed spending time with Myrcella. Though she had more in common with Sansa, Myrcella was willing to go along with Arya's games and adventures. She even enjoyed watching Arya learn to fight.

Lady Brienne was a bit tougher to befriend. The woman was nice and could fight amazingly, but she always seemed odd when Arya tried to talk to her. She was also a lot older than her. Still, Arya was trying and she liked to think a real friendship was starting.

The two were fun to play with, even if Jon teamed up with Brienne against her and Sansa in the game Sansa called "Hoops." (Sansa told Arya it was from the researcher's lands and was a cross between something called basketball and quidditch. Arya had never heard of either.)

"There are my students." A voice called.

"Lady Dacey" Lady Brienne greeted. Myrcella and Arya followed with a curtsy.

"I wondered where you all get to when I'm not beating sense into you." She teased.

"We keep busy trying to knock it back out." Arya returned. The others laughed.

"I'm actually looking for Sansa."

"She's usually in the library or sitting with Mother." Arya said. "Why?"

Lady Dacey grimaced a little. "Lady Sansa's convinced that she's become able enough with a wooden sword to try to use this." Lady Dacey pulled out a long, thin sword. "She calls it a rapier. It's fun to play with, but she doesn't quite understand that it won't do any good against an armoured opponent."

Arya looked close at the sword. It seemed like the type that would be suited for her. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"This is good for poking holes in people, but it wouldn't be able to pierce armour and you lot aren't trained enough to use it for weak points in armour yet."

Arya nodded. That sounded reasonable. Armour did take a lot of force to get through and weak points were small. Dacey made sure to emphasise this when they first started to build their strength.

"I'll see you lot later." With a pet to Valkyrie, Lady Dacey left them.

Last one for the night. A little short, but we got to see Lysa's pov (which was not as bad as Cersei's, surprisingly.) And some Ice Dragon appreciation! Also, I know a lot of people gave me flack when my SI wanted to use a rapier and she will get a reality check. Personally, I blame my love of costume dramas and the idea of romanticism of fencing as an effective form of fighting in relation to armoured opponents.

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#306

I hummed My Fair Lady as I worked. Why had my two favorite songs from that become my go-to working songs? The worst part was that as soon as 'I Could Have Danced All Night' would go away, 'Wouldn't It Be Loverly' started looping in my head.

At least it wasn't Les Mis or Phantom of the Opera. Those would have never left.

In truth, I was still a little sore over my talk with Dacey. She had good points, but I still wanted to learn a rapier. It could be useful against non-armoured opponents. But Dacey was in charge of my training and that was that for now.

In the meantime, I had been translating a book concerning the process for making Northern Ice. It was rather technical and a little boring, but given the possibilities for the North, it was worth going through.

I could imagine a distribution of such weapons, as well as the profits it could give the North with the right spin. The weapons were best used by those with blood of the First Men, but can be wielded (though with some difficulty) by others.

Once I finished the translation, Mikken could see if the steps were correct and begin making more for the fight against the Others.

"What's that?" Bran's voice entered the room.

"I'm reading a book about making weapons." I told him honestly. Half the time, I wasn't sure he knew what was going on around him, but I also didn't want to lie to him.

"No, the song. I've not heard it before." He looked at me with such an earnest curiosity, I wanted to wrap him in my arms and squeeze.

"It's called 'I Could Have Danced All Night.' It's about a girl that is in love with an older man and he made her happy by dancing with her after not paying her any attention." I couldn't help but think back to the scene.

"It sounds nice."

"It is. Now, what do you need?" He was pretty good about not interrupting my research.

"I wanted to see Isolde."

I whistled and held my arm out. After a moment, Isolde had come darting over the stacks of objects and books, careful not to make any fall, and climbed onto my waiting arm.

I brought her forward to Bran.

"Usually you go see Valkyrie." I observed. Perhaps because of my need to keep myself busy, Valkyrie was more social than Isolde. As such, Bran had often preferred Arya over me.

"Myrcella's with her."

"I thought you liked Myrcella." Didn't they get along?

"I do, but since we were told we were betrothed, she's pretending to be more serious and wants me to do boring things."

"Like what?"

"Like gardening and pretending to be a Lord and Lady with a household."

My heart melted. "It sounds like she wants to play house." He gave me an odd look. "She's trying to get to know you better and see how good of a husband you'll be when you marry."

"But that's forever away!" He shouted.

"So talk to her. Let her know that you want to do other things. While she gardens, you can play elsewhere. You don't have to do everything together. And most of all, you have years to go before marriage, just be yourself and the rest will fall into place." I was stroking his hair by now.

He curled into me and Isolde climbed onto him and nuzzled.

"We have found more, my lord." The goldcloak informed Lord Arryn.

He held back a sigh and ordered the man to begin evacuating the Dragonpit. Before he had executed the Alchemists, he had asked about how much had been made for the Mad King.

The number far exceeded what could have destroyed the Red Keep. Indeed, it would have destroyed the whole city.

And so, he had begun organising the guards to search for aches of Wildfire. At first, they had trouble finding the substance. But Jaime Lannister made a remark about the Mad King enjoying jars in the shape of fruits during his reign and they had begun uncovering the caches.

They were everywhere. Outside the Red Keep, jars had been found in the Great Sept, in various spots in the city, and lately in the Dragonpit. What could the Mad King have been thinking?

He had informed the Queen of his progress and she demanded the rest of the alchemists to be killed and the Wildfire taken as far away from the Capitol as it could go. He had agreed to the latter, but chose to exile the younger men, as they had not been involved at the time of the Mad King.

He was ready to be done with all of it. He could only hope the King would return soon.

That night, he returned home to his sweet boy and his wife. The new medicine the Maester was making seemed to help a great deal better than Pycelle's concoctions. If he was allowed to appoint the next Grandmaester, he would have done so with this Maester out of gratitude for seeing his son get a little stronger every day.

"Father!" His boy greeted.

"Hello my dear boy." He hugged him close. "Hello Lysa." He greeted his wife.

"Hello husband." She stated mildly. He held back a sigh. Ever since he had informed them of his intentions, she had been angry with him. Surely they had been in the Capitol long enough? Perhaps going to the Vale would improve their chances with giving little Robert a sibling? He had always wanted a great number of children, but had not been so blessed. Lysa had tried. She suffered miscarriage after stillbirth. At first, he wanted to blame her ruin before their marriage. He should have known better than to take tarnished goods, but it was just as likely his fault. He knew men his age rarely fathered children. There had to be a reason for that, not to mention the trouble he had with his previous marriages.

"I trust today was good?" Lysa nodded and Robert told him about his lessons.

They sat as a family and paid equal attention to their son and he complimented Lysa on her duties and in dealing with Robert.

She gave him a tight smile and sent their boy out of the room.

Jon held back a sigh as he prepared for her to argue for them to stay in the Capitol, again.

Instead, Lysa was silent for several moments.

"My dear husband," she spat with an anger he had never seen before "I have begged and pleaded with you to allow us to stay here. I tried this the kind way, but now I see that wasn't enough." She had pulled out a dagger. Jon placed his own hand upon the knife he had taken to carrying since the fire.

Lysa struck, aiming for his heart. He was quicker though, his hard-earned reflexes over the decades allowing him the upper hand. She struck again, while he deflected. He called for a guard and did his best to hold her off until they could subdue her.

He didn't want to hurt her, but she wouldn't stop. She was screaming things at him, though he could barely make them out. Something about Robin and how he should have been Petyr's. Suddenly, he understood.

The guards finally came in at wrested the dagger away from her, giving it to Lord Arryn. Lysa spat in his face before being dragged to her chambers, where she would be given milk of the poppy to calm her. He also ordered for no less than six guards to remain on her chambers at all times, lest she try to escape.

Lord Arryn sat with his son that night, tiredness seeping further into his bones.

And Lysa takes action!

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Steampunkunicorn

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#317

Lord Stark watched his children play. They had been playing some game involving hoops and a ball. They were laughing and enjoying themselves, as well as Lady Brienne and Myrcella.

His heart ached as he watched the false Princess clap her hands after scoring a point. She was such a sweet girl, but if what Sansa told her was true—that he was killed because he discovered the girl's true parentage (whoever her father was)—then she would become a hostage in the future.

He had gone over the contract the King and he had made. It stated Myrcella, specifically, would marry the heir to Winterfell. So, for now, he allowed things to remain as they were. He knew better than anyone that children should not have to pay for the sins of their parents.

He at least had plans for other issues within his household.

For now, he left his children to check on his Lady Wife. She was remaining in confinement until the babe arrived and he hoped to ease her comfort a little before he returned to his duties.

Lord Arryn watched his son play with the maid he had assigned to watch over him. She had come with him from the Vale and could be trusted to be loyal.

He resisted the urge to pace, but he was restless nonetheless. How Lysa could have attacked him was beyond the pale. And so, he ordered a few of his guards to search through the remains of the Tower of the Hand. The Tower was somewhat unscathed compared to the rest of the Red Keep, but it was now considered structurally weak and the stones were covered in scorch marks.

Still, his guards had come through. He had found letters addressed to his wife from his own bannerman, Baelish. He was only thankful the earliest dated one they found was from during Lysa's pregnancy with Robert.

Still, it was more than enough to send Petyr Baelish through the Moon Door without repercussion.

Meanwhile, he had sent Lysa to Riverrun as soon as he could arrange it. Officially, h had decided to do so for her health and her nerves. Wouldn't seeing her childhood home make her feel better? Unofficially, his letter to his goodfather ensured that she would spend the rest of her days out of sight from Jon and his son.

Oh, how he hated how that woman made his son cry. He was too young to understand even the official reason. He could only hope he would be able to grow up well, despite the woman that birthed him.

"Father, look." He heard Robert shout. He couldn't help but smile as his son built a small nest out of twigs he found. "A nest for our sigil."

"It is lovely, my boy. Any falcon would be proud to have it."

Yes, his son would be a falcon.

Cersei looked over her boy. He had started staying awake for longer periods and would actually talk to her. He was doing the exercises Qyburn insisted on. He said it would help to prevent the muscles from becoming twisted as they healed. Still, her heart wrenched at every hiss of pain her lion gave.

She couldn't watch. She exited the room to speak to Jaime.

"Does he still not remember?" He asked her.

She shook her head. It had pierced her heart to find he didn't know her. She would just have to remember that he was alive and make new memories with him.

"Oh, Jaime, why did this have to happen? Joff is such a sweet, brave lion. He didn't deserve this cruelty." She placed her hand on the healing burn Jaime's cheek held.

He gave her that unreadable expression he had been giving her more often. "No, that boy in there didn't deserve this." She fell into his arms, wanting for things to return to normal.

"His face is so mangled, he barely looks like himself." She murmured.

The burn scars covered his whole face, making him look so odd and alien to her. She only hoped that her oaf of a husband would understand the truth, that this was her Joffrey. If Arryn began that tripe again about him not being her son, she would do more than the slap she delivered to his wrinkled, old face.

Jaime continued to hold her until Qyburn had finished.

Yeah, this is pretty much filler, but we have progress on our burn victim (who may or may not be Lancel, he can't say one way or the other.)

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#322

Jaime watched over his sister with worry. At first, he had thought her in denial of Joffrey's disappearance and presumed death. But she was still continuing to believe it, after the burned young man became awake. His voice was nothing like Joffrey, by the Gods.

He had wanted to tell Jon Arryn the truth. It had cost him too much already. It had cost him his oaths, his honor, and now, his child.

He didn't love Joffrey. Cersei made sure of that, keeping him away, not letting him hold the babe that Joffrey had once been. He couldn't love him, but he still grieved him.

Cersei wouldn't, she refused against all evidence, so he had to grieve for her, just like he had done everything.

And so, he tried to inform Jon Arryn, but the man had already started down the right path. So, he remarked upon the jars. He did what he had to do, just like he had always done.

He was surprised that he was still not asked beyond that, though. He was one of the last two Kingsguard serving the Mad King. He had known enough to point out the Wildfire, but Arryn still did not think to look beyond that. Nor had anyone else.

And so, Jaime continued his watch. He knew nothing else he could do.

Stannis was grateful to finally arrive bask at Dragonstone. As much as he hated the ugly rock, at least it was free of the troubles he had been facing of late. His wife greeted him and Shireen, though her smile was a bit strained.

"I trust your trip went well."

He nodded, taking a long look at her. Despite himself, he heard the Northern girl's words "Your wife converted and it eventually led to your death." The girl had said them so matter of fact, as if it was a mere detail in a story.

As the weeks on the ship passed, it made him wonder if she was truly so unhappy as to find comfort in the strange fire god from across the Narrow Sea. He resolved to try to improve his duty by her, whether the rest of the words were true or not.

"Shireen quite enjoyed the North." He stated.

Selyse looked towards their daughter with a strained expression. "I am glad to hear that. Perhaps your fool would enjoy hearing about it?"

Shireen took the cue and went into the dreary keep.

"I will be leaving you again." He informed her, his voice a touch softer.

"It is due to the Capitol?"

"Yes."

"I understand. I trust you will return soon enough. For now, you must do your duty by your King."

She gave him no hint of anger or upset, only resignation.

He kissed her cheek, making her jump in surprise, and boarded the ship once again. At least he had a moment's peace.

Theon reread the letter from Asha. It was similar to how he remembered her, at least. He had yet to decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but a small part of him was happy to know his memories hadn't altered too greatly.

She seemed happy to hear from him and was on her way to captaining her own ship. He was quite proud of her and said so during sewing and story time, as Sansa had taken to referring to it. (After all, not everyone there did one or the other, but they all contributed to the subjects.)

It had felt odd, continuing to attend after Robb had disappeared, but the girls had missed his sea-faring stories that had been passed down within his family.

Arya, especially, was taken with the idea of becoming a captain of her own ship. Between her fighting and Valkyrie, she would someday outclass Asha. He could only hope they wouldn't fight each other.

Arya was truly the closest to a sibling he had in Winterfell and he didn't want to see her hurt, nor to hurt the sister he was relearning.

Sansa had her moments, but she kept him at arm's length, as if not sure what to do with him. Robb was gone. He had never gotten along with Snow. Bran was nice enough, but he was still very much a baby in a way Arya had already outgrown. And then there was Lord Stark. Lord Stark had been a kind but distant figure to him since his arrival. He had tried to treat him fairly, but had him followed. Lately, he had become even more distant to the young Kraken, and he had no idea why.

So, he focused on the good parts of his life, drank in Wintertown a little more than before, and continued to try to seduce Dacey Mormont and Mya Stone. They were both rather pretty, after all.

More filler, but it is getting back to plot, I swear.

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#328

Lysa was angry. She had been that way for quite some time.

She had felt anger for as long as she could remember. Only Petyr ever managed to make it go away completely. She had gotten used to the anger, but sometimes it boiled over. Why had she gotten angry enough to attack her husband? She had a plan to deal with him, but her anger overcame her. Perhaps she could write to Petyr when she arrived at Riverrun? He would have an idea about how to fix things.

She would have to try to be calmer without Petyr. It was the only way she could see him again.

She felt anger at the situation, but also herself. No matter how angry she got over the years, she had never attacked anyone. She had always thrown items and used her fists against her pillow.

Sometimes it had even helped.

As she looked out upon the passing Crownlands, she couldn't help but feel her anger rise. It pounded and pressed upon her, her head throbbing from it.

No, no, concentrate on the beauty of the landscape—but it was no use. She began to hit the cushion on the seat in her wheelhouse.

"My lady" the maid that was to aid her said as a warning. She tried to stop, but the anger was too much. Her fists continued to hit the cushion. And why shouldn't they? She was being taken from her Sweetrobin, from any chance to be with her Petyr, from her life away from her awful father!

She felt the maid grab her mouth and force down the milk of the poppy. This was the second time it had happened since leaving King's Landing, but she knew it would not be the last.

Jon Arryn sighed as he read another letter from Baelish to his wife. While he was thankful Lysa did not burn them like Baelish had asked her to within the letters, he was still not happy with what he was reading. The letters referenced others, ones she did actually burn, but what he had were enough.

It seemed the man used a combination of nostalgia, shared isolation, and empty promises to manipulate her. He referenced her anger, which Jon had seen from time to time, though she was always careful to keep to her rooms when it occurred. He took her negative emotions and focused them towards her life.

He knew their marriage was not a happy one, but he thought Lysa had found contentment in her role as wife of the Hand.

He regularly bought her and Robert gifts that he thought they might like (though some of the smaller ones went to Baelish, apparently.) He made sure to talk with her when she was in the mood to. He was attentive in bed, as he had learned from his first wife how to make a woman happy in that area.

What he had seen of his marriage had been a lie.

He was getting too old for such things. He was likely to never remarry if given the chance. He didn't know if he could take it. Besides, Robert was growing stronger by the day. The new Maester's medicines truly did wonders for the boy and he had gone half a week without a single tremble.

His thoughts were interrupted by a man informing him that the King's ship had been within sight. He got up to wait for the King's arrival and, with a sudden thought, he decided to take little Robert. He would enjoy the sight of the docks.

Tyrion sighed as approached Winterfell. It was positively picturesque and exactly as boring looking as he imagined. He could only hope the inside was as exciting as he had heard from his stops on the way.

So far, he could at least assure his father that, no matter whether the claims are true or not, the Northman appeared to fully believe that the Ice Dragons were real, the girls touched by the Old Gods, and the Long Night might come again.

He was surprised he had yet to hear about grumpkins and snarks.

As his procession entered the courtyard, he took a chance to size up the family. Lord Stark was dour and most likely dull. His wife was not there, but his eldest girl stood proud and elegant in her odd dress. He had to do a double-take. On top of her red hair was a little white dragon, standing as proud as the girl. His eyes quickly looked to the next girl. She was smaller and had her father's colouring, as her dragon was held securely in her arms. Myrcella of all people was standing next to them, petting on the second dragon. The younger Stark boy stood there, fidgeting.

"Uncle Tyrion!" His beautiful niece cheered. "Cousin Lyonel!"

"Welcome to Winterfell, Lord Tyrion." Stark intoned. "We were surprised to hear of your coming."

"There have been interesting rumours. I have always had a fascination with dragons and wanted to see them for myself."

Stark frowned a little, but the red haired daughter held back a chuckle. How odd.

He got off his horse and, after hugging his niece, followed Lord Stark to perform Guest Right. He had a feeling his time at Winterfell would be quite interesting.

He had much to learn of and even more to report.

Yeah, so on top of being unable to post on AH with my laptop, I'm also having issues with my internet connection. I apologise in advance for my less frequent updates, but I will post when I can.

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#343

I was more than a little excited. Tyrion Lannister was there! I had to do my best not to be an obvious fangirl.

Fortunately, he had gone with Father Ned to perform guest right and discuss a few things.

Myrcella had gone forward to babble at her cousin, who did not honestly look much like a Lannister, in my opinion.

The meeting party had dispersed, with Arya and Bran going off to play and discuss "The Imp" as I heard Arya refer to him.

As Jon, Mya, and Brienne were not expected to stand and greet Tyrion and his party, I decided to try and track them down. After asking Lynna, I was taken to the Godswood where Brienne and Jon were.

"Lady Sansa." Brienne curtsied awkwardly.

I smiled and curtsied back, careful not to let Isolde lose balance. "So, what are you two doing?"

"We were just walking." Jon answered quickly. No doubt he didn't want me to think they were anything more.

"Well, do you mind if I join you?" I truly had been less than social lately.

"Not a problem." Jon answered.

"How are you enjoying Winterfell, Lady Brienne?" I asked.

"It is fine. It is different from my own home, but everyone has been kind."

I frowned a little. "Are you homesick?"

"Aye, a little, but I am glad to be here."

"Let me know if there is anything that can be done to make you feel more comfortable." I was unsure what to say.

"Thank you, my lady."

We walked in silence for a while, Isolde climbing between us.

King Robert had assessed the situation of King's Landing. He was never more thankful for Jon than in that moment.

"So, more wildfire has been found throughout the city?" What had the Mad Fucker been thinking?

"Yes, it appears to have been enough to raze the city."

"Suddenly, I'm glad the Kingslayer killed him." Robert commented. He looked over to Jon, noticing an odd gleam in his eye.

"Indeed, your grace."

"Now, what is this I've heard about my wife?" Robert was not looking forward to dealing with her.

"She has been nursing a victim of the Wildfire, convinced it is your eldest, Prince Joffrey." Robert noticed the pause and the phrasing.

"And you're not convinced?"

"Every indication has pointed to your son being dead. The victim, while having the colouring, has little else supporting her claim of his identity." Jon told him diplomatically.

"And has my supposed son been unable to tell her the truth? Surely he would have awaken by now." Robert has seen a few burn victims, but never from wildfire.

"He has, your grace, but he currently suffers from amnesia. This has caused the Queen to become fervent in her beliefs." Jon rubbed his cheek as he spoke.

"I'll see the situation for myself and talk with her." If he couldn't snap her out of it, he would have to figure out a plan. It wouldn't do to leave the throne to an imposter, after all.

And so, he entered the manse that held his wife. Many a servant seemed relieved to see him. No doubt after dealing with Cersei for several weeks, they would have been happy to see anyone that could deal with her.

He entered her rooms, not entirely sure what to expect.

Cersei actually feeding someone was not even on his list of guesses.

"I go away for a trip and I come home to find things gone wrong."

She turned so fast, he almost thought her head would have flown off. "It's about time you returned from your time gallivanting. Your son would have died if I hadn't been with him day and night." She scowled.

He sighed. He knew he would have to be gentle with her. He would have time to mourn later, but, for now, he had to try.

"I came as soon as I knew. I'm sorry you've had to deal with this alone." He walked towards her. "How is he?"

"He'll survive, but Qyburn says it will be a long and…painful process." Cersei began to tear up.

He wasn't sure what to do. He had never been good with a crying woman. There was also no one to smash, to make her tears disappear. He brought her forward and held her until it felt like she had stopped crying.

"I've talked to Jon" He could see her protests forming "and he told me the measures taken to remove the Wildfire from the Capitol and has disbanded the alchemists. He has helped to punish those behind this. Our boy has had retribution." Cersei nodded.

"And, what else has he said?"

"He told me that he has started clearing the destroyed parts of the Red Keep and is burying the bodies and parts that are uncovered." She nodded. "He also told me that he thinks our son isn't in that bed." He had made sure to lower his voice.

She froze, before pulling away from him. "That is our son. He is Joffrey."

"I told him I would reserve judgement until I saw for myself."

"Then come see your son." She pulled him towards the bed.