Winterfell

Roose Bolton, the current Warden of the North. It had taken years, yet House Bolton had finally emerged on top, putting the Starks in their place. In the dirt, where the former Kings of Winter would never be able to recover. Though taking control of the North as they had was still creating many difficulties for Roose, with the houses both large and small resisting his rule as Warden. House Mormont hadn't even bothered with putting up a facade, outright ignoring any of his ravens. House Umber too was cold, and made it rather clear they would be making things difficult for him. Though it helped a bit that the Ironborn had been driven out of the North at long last. One of the few things that helped keep them in line as it was, was the presence of the late lord Eddard's eldest daughter.

Though the gold from Tywin back when the proud lion had been alive certainly helped to motivate and keep a few of the houses in line, and though it left a bad taste in his mouth he had used some of it to bolster his loyal forces in the event of a revolt. He had chosen the Company of the Rose, four thousand men descended from the North with very little connection to it nowadays. And with many a reason not to feel any sympathy for House Stark, considering its origins. Along with his own men and the assistance of House Karstark, it would hopefully be enough to keep the North in line, along with the threat of punishment hanging above the head of Sansa Stark.

Little did any of them know he was in no place to do such a thing.

As the head of House Bolton sighed, bringing a hand up to his face in exhaustion, he found his thoughts interrupted by a knock at the door. "Enter." His voice echoed throughout the solar, the arrival of winter having brought a gloomy atmosphere about Winterfell, a candle sitting on his desk and a lantern hanging nearby to give Roose light to see what he was doing.

At his call came Maester Wolkan, the older man carrying a missive, the maester wordlessly showing him the stamp which sealed them. "A letter from the Night's Watch with your seal drawn by it." If it was a raven from the Night's Watch with his seal, then that could only mean one man. He silently waved Wolkan over, the larger man bringing both missives over before bowing to him, leaving the room so that the Lord of Winterfell and the Dreadfort could be left in peace.

'Lord Bolton

It was difficult to get this message out, yet lately it seems the blind and foolish maester has been rather preoccupied, and his little acolytes along with him. Though it's understandable, considering the events that have occurred in the past several weeks. The wildling horde made their attempt on the wall, only to fail. The savages didn't have what it takes to get past a couple of poorly trained cut throats and cravens that were shakin in their fucking boots.

It appears that Brandon and Rickon Stark never came to the Wall. I tried to speak to him about his brothers, yet he seemed convinced that they were both dead. Perhaps Ramseys pet was lying early on, or the two boys went elsewhere to seek sanctuary. Yet that is nowhere near as important as the other events that have occurred here at the wall.

In the middle of the wildlings attack, two dragons descended-

Roose had to take a second to process exactly what he had just read. There had been some rumors and reports of two dragons having landed in the South, though he had dismissed them without much thought. He had no reason to expect them to come to the North after all, not if there was no Targaryen behind them. And yet here they were, supporting the Wall against a wildling invasion. He thought of the old Targaryen maester that served at the Wall, and considered that perhaps he was the reason as to why the pair of dragons arrived on the scene.

'descended on the wildling horde. They cleared out those who had gotten inside the castle and proved a deterrent to any more savages attempting to get past the wall and inside the castle. Apparently they came to serve a Targaryen. They came to serve and protect Aenar Targaryen, son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen, wed before the eyes of the seven and the old gods. Otherwise known to the rest of the realm as Jon Snow, the supposed bastard son of Eddard Stark. Hidden in plain sight, the heir of the Iron Throne. With two dragons and a direwolf very clearly bowing before him.

Roose Bolton merely stares at that part of the missive, realizing the exact implications. Though the dragons couldn't be that old, there was a Targaryen heir raised by House Stark seeking shelter amongst the Night's Watch, with two dragons at his beck and call. Given a few years they could become greater potential threats, and he had little doubt that the more rebellious houses would rally to his cause. Despite his army, suddenly the men he did have didn't mean as much if he would be facing far more than just the houses of the North.

He read over the rest of the letter, ending with a signature from Locke. Though the man hadn't discovered where the Stark children were, he'd given him something much more valuable. That valuable warning still made him worry, knowing that Stannis and his army along with the wildling host and two dragons would soon be marching south soon. Considering the way this Aenar had been raised, he had no doubt that he would soon march to deliver vengeance for the fate of the young Robb Stark. He'd need to find a way to properly repay the man for his service to his house.

He looked over at the missive he had received long ago from Littlefinger, offering Sansa hand in marriage to his own bastard son Ramsay, in exchange he would gain the support of the Vale when needed. Under the condition, of course, that the young Stark was treated well. He had kept Ramsay close by most of the time to prevent him from doing something to Sansa, whenever he couldn't be around the boy he made sure there was a select group of guards with orders to keep his son away from her. Though it seemed to irritate him more than anything, he wasn't all that bothered by it. It was odd enough behavior.

After all, there had been a warning in the message as well. If he were to harm Sansa Stark in any way, or she were to otherwise be treated poorly, the Vale would march on the North. It didn't need to be said he would alert the crown of what exactly had occurred, thus earning their support and favor with the Lannisters and Tyrells. Though Sansa was a boon that gave him a link to the Riverlands and would help cement his power over the North, she was a double edged blade. One Littlefinger had used to ensure he gained the most benefit from the situation in either scenario.

He was placed in a tough situation by both. He knew that if he were to call for the other lords to raise their banners, they would either ignore him outright or raise them in support of the Targaryen and his dragons. He had little doubt that this Aenar already had plans to send out ravens to the lords of the North to gain their support, despite the large army and dragons he already commanded. To call upon them would give them a chance at avenging Robb Stark and others lost at the Red Wedding, and he was certain there was no shortage of enemies who would leap at such a chance.

And yet, he couldn't call on the crown for help. To do so would call attention to him, if the Lannisters weren't already aware of the fact that Sansa Stark was being by him in Winterfell, though he wouldn't be surprised if the Spider found difficulty getting information from the North. Regardless, to call the Lannisters to support him in the North brought the risk of someone loyal to the crown catching sight of her and reporting their findings to Cersei and her son King Tommen. To make war with them now when he had a Targaryen king ready to seek vengeance against him would only make certain that his house would be wiped from the face of Westeros.

He was being forced to rely on Petyr Baelish, a man whose support he only had through Sansa. Even then, he wasn't sure if he would arrive to the North in time, though beyond calling on the rest of the northern lords it would take Aenar some time to properly organize his army considering how large the wildling horde was, as well as the army that Stannis had brought with him when he bent the knee to the dragon. Something else that would apparently take time to fully get in order.

Even then, he knew that Petyr would need to gather his own men before he could march north with the knights of the Vale, something that would take time. The more he thought about it, the more he knew he was stuck. Yet then an idea struck him, the current Warden of the North smirking as he finally figured out a way to make his legitimized bastard useful. Now married, he was likely to get a son from his wife. If he didn't, he could always father a new bastard or even take on another wife if he needed to produce an heir.

Though Sansa hadn't been back in Winterfell long, he had no doubt that Ramsay would find a way to get at her, despite him seemingly being uninterested in torturing her despite her Stark heritage. Ramsay had only brought the subject up with him once, and he had only seemed a bit annoyed that he was being kept away. If Roose didn't know any better, he would say there is something going on with his son that he was unaware of. What that could be, he didn't know.

That gave him all the more reason to send him away from Winterfell. He went to the door of his solar and opened it, turning to one of his household guards with a stern expression, "Fetch Ramsay. I need to have a word with him." He shut the door as the man went to go ahead and fulfil his order, the smirk reappearing on his face as he went and sat behind his desk. After all, his son wouldn't be able to cause any trouble for him at the Wall.

And with any luck, he and Locke together would be able to kill the dragon king, before he could become an issue. It would only make matters that much sweeter if Ramsay were to die in the attempt, before he could prove a proper thorn in his side. That didn't mean he wouldn't be sending a raven south to tell them of the Targaryen, after he crushed him that is.

Meereen

Aegon watched as Mereen slowly began to come into view, the sigil of House Targaryen billowing in the wind. It wasn't too long ago when he washed the blue dye from his hair, revealing long and shining silver locks. His purple gaze was locked onto the city his aunt had conquered, the son of Elia pursing his lips as he thought of the rumors he had heard. Of how the dragons she had managed to hatch had all but abandoned her.

Though it was certainly an issue, it was one he could work with. If the sources were to be believed, she still had well over fifteen thousand men, comprised of elite unsullied and sell swords, and freedmen levies. With Dorne behind him and the Golden Company, they'd be coming at a splintered seven kingdoms with well over fifty thousand soldiers, with the ability to buy more sell swords should the need arise. That is, if she accepted the meeting in the first place.

His flagship met no resistance as it sidled into the port, a few dozen unsullied prepared to greet him at the docks. The rest of his fleet laid waiting in the bay, kept in control by its many officers. Aegon was the first off the ship, his hand Jon Connington following after him along with Harry Strickland and the newest member of their council, Tyrion Lannister. The dwarf had proven to be an excellent addition to their little group so far.

One man stepped out from the large group of Unsullied, looking towards some of the golden company soldiers that were going to follow them. "They stay." It was clear that is was not a request, but an order. Aegon couldn't argue with it, not really. He had heard of the troubles his aunt had had with the city lately, he doubted she wanted soldiers not aligned with her following her previously dead nephew straight to where she held court. He raised a hand and turned to look at the men, nodding at them in reassurance. They obeyed and stayed on the ship, watching over it.

The elite spearmen formed up around Aegon and his party in silence, leading them to the grand pyramid in which Daenerys resided. A few of the citizens in the city looked at him and those that followed with curiosity due to their escort, losing interest just as quick as it was gained. The men escorting them seemed tense, likely on the look out for the very harpies that had managed to plague the city in the first place. Yet none harassed them, not even when they were mere feet away from the pyramid.

They made their way through the massive structure, and before long they were stood in the great hall of the pyramid, where his aunt held court. More unsullied lined the walls as the men who escorted Aegon and his council put distance between them, yet still staying encircled around them. Sat before them at the top of a large stairway was the very aunt they had come to meet, sitting upon a bench as a makeshift throne. The silver haired beauty looked down upon them all with narrow eyes, the she-dragons gaze landing on him with suspicion.

"Here you stand before Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the first of her name, rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains. The Queen of Meereen. What business brings you here before her?" A dark skinned woman had spoken all of his aunts many titles, the heir to House Targaryen feeling curious as to her title of being Unburnt.

Jon Connington stepped up in his place, the older man proudly announcing his own titles, "And here you stand before Aegon Targaryen, the sixth of his name, rightful King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord Protector of the realm. His Grace has come seeking an audience with his aunt, the last of his remaining family." There had been a bit of haughtiness which colored his hands voice, yet he paid it no mind for the time being. He had served him well all these years, after all.

The suspicion did not abate in Daenerys as she looked down at him however, the young Queen tense as she sat upon her bench, "And here you claim this to be my long dead nephew, suddenly resurrected with the Golden Company at his back. You must admit, it appears rather suspicious for Rhaegar's heir to suddenly appear out of thin air, despite his head being smashed in by the monstrous Mountain. Rather convenient to claim to be a boy whose counterpart would be unrecognizable as a babe, is it not?"

Though Jons face twisted in a scowl, likely an angry retort on his lips though Aegon put a hand on his shoulder to halt him. The young man licked his lips in nervousness, stepping forward to speak for himself, "I understand your concerns, Aunt Daenerys. My survival is only due to Varys having had me switched out with another woman's child in Flea Bottom. The story of that boy's death have not been greatly exaggerated, unlike my own. Beyond that, you've fought hard to get where you are, so you may return home. And unlike myself, you had to improvise, to do most of this alone.

"But neither of us is strong enough to go home on our own. The Golden Company is strong, but they aren't enough to combat the kingdoms that would oppose us. Your men, though skilled and of decent numbers, aren't enough to take on our enemies, not without your dragons." He took another step forward, the Unsullied around him readying their spears and eyeing him with mistrust. "I am not here to persuade you to step down, but here to offer a proposal. If we can speak in a more appropriate setting?"

His aunts eyes were a storm of conflicting emotions, difficult to pick out what she felt about the matter. He was certain she would want to preserve the power she had fought so hard for, but more than that, he had a feeling she didn't want to be alone. After all, he was acutely aware of the pain of being a lone Targaryen, a dragon without a companion in the world. Though many had offered companionship in his life, none had been of his blood. Of House Targaryen. His aunt had her brother when he had been alive, but rumors had spread of the cruel Beggar King. He had his doubts that Viserys had been a good brother.

The storm seemed to end as she stood from her bench, the tension never quite leaving her though she had clearly relaxed to some extent. Ser Barristan kept his eyes on Aegon, having stayed silent as he scrutinized the young man, likely searching for something of Rhaegar in him. He turned to the queen he had sworn to serve after she stood however, bowing his head in subservience as she turned away from them all and waved her court to follow, "Come, Aegon. If you're truly my nephew, let us see what offer you have brought to my court."

And as she lead the way, her nephew and his small retinue following, Aegon couldn't help but think that their time was coming. The time to bring fire and blood down upon all those who had dared to wrong House Targaryen.

Kings Landing

Though the majority of the small council and the lords that currently inhabited the red keep were perfectly fine with pretending that everything was all well and good, Olenna Tyrell was not. Though the arrival of Kevan Lannister as hand had helped to stabilize their position, it didn't change matters. With Tywin gone, House Lannister was more vulnerable than ever, Tommen's reign as king being far from secure due to the damage done by Eddard Stark and Roberts brothers claiming his children as bastards. It was lucky enough he was easy enough to control, naive and foolish boy that he was.

There would never be security in the Lannister reign now. And if Olenna was correct, it was only to be a matter of time before it all came crashing down around them. Either through the small folk, whose suffering in the city only continued to worsen, or through the kingdoms around them. The only kingdoms the Iron Throne could truly count on was that of the Reach and the Westerlands, meanwhile the Targaryens to the east gathered their forces. She feared it wouldn't be long before they landed upon the shores of Westeros once more, ready to enact vengeance upon those who had wronged them.

At the very least, they could count on certain kingdoms being out of the fight when the Targaryens landed, rather than siding with them outright. Small mercies, though they would not ensure anyones survival. Very little would against live dragons.

Despite Margaery's marriage to the young Tommen and despite just how easy he was to control, she didn't want her family in Kings Landing. Only a part of it was due to the Targaryens and their approach, a large part of it though was due to Cersei herself. She didn't the trust the woman and her growing obsession with holding onto the Iron Throne, beginning to see more and more enemies around her. Though Olenna wanted to see her granddaughter be queen, she wasn't going to keep her at risk. She had a feeling that sooner rather than later, Cersei's own desperate need for power and need to hold onto her pride would turn her to taking drastic measures.

She didn't fancy being in the city if she ended up being another Aerys.

It was lucky enough that Cersei had so vehemently fought against Margaery bedding Tommen the first night, whether it be due to his age or to prevent the marriage being consummated it still worked into her family's favor. As the queen, she would still warrant at least one man of the Kingsguard to protect her. It wouldn't be too difficult to convince the boy king to send Loras to Highgarden with Margaery to keep her safe, being her brother and an extremely capable knight, while Mace stayed as a part of the small council. In part so they could still have some representation in the city, even if it was poor. In part, so her foolish son still wouldn't be ruling the Reach directly.

Though of course, there was another reason to remove Margaery from King's Landing. If Aegon was still in need of a wife, she was certain his eyes wouldn't be able to stray from the beautiful rose of Highgarden, still a maiden and more fair than any other Lady in the realm. That is, of course, if he didn't set his eyes on his aunt, combining their forces and their claims.

Olenna would not allow House Tyrell to go the route of the Gardners. They would not all burn due to pride.

Castle Black

Aenar was once more holding a council with Stannis and the rest of the wildling chiefs, though there was a new member who joined the group. Melisandre of Asshai stood behind Stannis, ever the faithful advisor even though he no longer held onto the title of "King". The rest of Stannis' men along with his family and priestess had arrived not that long ago, having arrived roughly a week after his cavalry force had raced north of the Wall, with many still adjusting to the fact that they would now be serving a dragon instead of a stag. Luckily for all of those involved, Stannis had yet to speak with his queen on the matter.

With all of Stannis' men assembled, and with Mance and the other chieftains having readied their warriors, their army was ready. The free folk had a force of twenty thousand men and women ready to march, along with the six thousand Stannis had brought. In theory it was more than enough to take Winterfell, not to mention the dragons and the giants that would join them in the battle.

Though the fact of the matter was, they couldn't take Winterfell with just their current army. It would send a good message to the rest of the North if they were to put the Boltons to the sword and to retake the ancestral seat of House Stark, but to do so with an army of free folk and southerners with none of the northern houses to support them? The North was full of prideful northerners, and none would take too kindly to being left out of a battle. To being left out of their chance to avenge their king and take vengeance for the family they lost.

"Once ravens have begun to fly, I'll personally meet with each of the lords to discuss terms. It'll be difficult to earn their trust, though I'm sure most will be more than glad to rid themselves of the Boltons. House Karstark will need to be left out, due to what happened between the last Lord Karstark and Robb. I have a feeling they aren't going to be in any hurry to support a Stark raised Targaryen." Though he was more than aware that his taking up the name of Aenar Targaryen may be enough to turn a few lords against him. If he wasn't careful with how he handled this, the Boltons would end up with an army large enough to properly combat his own.

"With what guard?" Aenar turned to Stannis with a raised eyebrow, the older man rolling his eyes at the Targaryen, "You need a guard you can trust. You can't just go to these houses and hope they'll let you in and let ya in their keep, and you can't just bring the army with you or rely on your dragons. You need a Kingsguard to keep you safe. To have seven knights guarding you will help you with your image as a king and make others think twice before they try to stab you in the back."

Aenar nodded in agreement with Stannis, knowing the formation of his own Kingsguard was something he would need to look into sooner or later. "I can bring a group to guard me this time around, forming a proper kingsguard can wait. There's more important things to do. Now, I believe House Umber would be the best house to approach first. They'll be the ones most concerned with the free folk crossing the Wall, and are staunchly loyal. It would be best to assuage their fears and gain their support first."

The meeting eventually came to its end, with Maester Aemon leaving with one of his acolytes so that they may pen the letters and begin sending out ravens, Aenar following him on their way out. Though on their way out they find Sam waiting for them, the young man looking worried as he turned his gaze from Aemon to Aenar, "Jon, I just checked up on the ravens to feed them, and one of them was missing. It was the raven for Winterfell Jon, someone may have alerted the Boltons to what's going on."

He frowned at the news and brought a hand up to his chin in thought, looking down as he pursed his lips, "Though its unfortunate that the Boltons are now aware of what's going on, it won't change much. We'll still need to take time to properly approach the lords to get their support, I'll just need to bring extra protection in the event that Roose tries to kill me off while I'm negotiating." He turned to Aemon, the old Targaryen having a slight frown on his face at the news, "Uncle, if you could select certain members of the watch to guard the rookery, I'd like to avoid having more of our plans leaked to the Boltons."

"I'll do my best to select a suitable guard. Come Samwell, I'll need your help." And with that, Aemon turned and walked away, Sam and the other acolyte following close behind him. With the sun beginning to set, Aenar made his way to the Kings tower to rest for the night, Ghost joining him along the way. He looked to the main entrance of Castle Black and noticed Locke conversing with a new arrival, the man he was speaking to keeping his hood up. Though he was a bit curious as to who the newcomer was, sleep called out to him.

It didn't take him long to reach the tower, Rhaegal and Viserion both sending positive emotions through their bond once more. He had noticed that he hadn't had any nightmares since their arrival, no thoughts of dead men with glowing blue eyes. It was knowing that these two had his back along with Ghost that helped him to sleep so peacefully at night. As he laid down within the Kings Tower, Ghost having left the room after he laid down, he allowed himself to drift off into a peaceful slumber.

He was jolted from his peaceful slumber by the sound of the door to his room creaking open, the rusted hinges making it impossible for the door to be opened silently. He kept his breathing even so as to appear he was still sleeping, his hand slowly shifting beneath his pillow so he could use it to momentarily blind whoever had entered the room. Though it was mostly quiet, he could hear the footsteps of the intruder as they snuck into the room. He would only need to hold him off for a few short seconds, having already reached out to Ghost to bring the white direwolf to him.

When the footsteps stopped at his bedside, he got ready to throw the pillow as another set of footsteps began to enter the room. Before they could get close, Aenar quickly rolled off the other side of the bed, grabbing the pillow so he could toss it at the first assailants head, if only to blind them for a mere second to give him an advantage. To give Ghost enough time to arrive, the dragons now alerted and screeching as they took off and began to circle the tower.

Yet as the entire castle was alerted to something being wrong, Aenar was dumbfounded. Locke was standing by his bedside with a dagger in hand, likely ready to kill him in his sleep. Though that would never be, the older man standing there in shock as he reached a hand up to his slit open throat. He attempted to croak something out as he stared at him, his pupils flicking to the corners of his eyes before he went and collapsed. A pool of his own blood beginning to form underneath his corpe. Behind him, holding the knife that had slit the traitors throat, was a man Aenar hadn't seen in quite a long time.

"It's good to see you again, your grace! I hope I'm not intruding though, I have a feeling you don't mind. After all, I did just save your life." There behind the cooling corpse of Locke stood Ramsay Bolton, formerly Snow. A mad grin on his face as he looked at Aenar, "What else are friends for, after all?

Now, before anything else. Ramsay. Yes, I'm doing something completely different, and before you all assume I'm putting him down a redemption route or making him a good guy, that isn't happening either. I've gotten tired, personally, of seeing everyone go the same route with Ramsay. Battle of the bastards, win, woot woot the day is won, Ramsay goes bleh. Everything will be explained, including some events not occurring (Lets be frank, if Ramsay had an interest in doing anything to Sansa, or if he did, Jon would've murdered him.) such as why exactly Ramsay has done this.

The main inspiration for the idea comes from another story, where Dany stays in Westeros as Stannis' ward and is wed to Jon. In that fic, Ramsay is extremely devoted to Jon, for what reasons I can't remember, nor can I remember the name of the story (Though I will likely find it to encourage y'all to read it next chapter). In that story, Ramsay has stylized himself as Jons master of whispers and interrogation with Jon being the new Lord of the Gift, and I felt this was a really fucking cool idea. To use Ramsay in a way that best uses his madness and sadistic tendencies while also putting him outside of his stereotype crazy bad guy role. It was brilliant to me, so I'm taking some inspiration from that here.

I hope you all enjoyed, though I apologize for the really short chapter. Things should begin to ramp up soon from here lol.