The Divine Conspiracy

by noobie53

She began to wonder what would have happened if had she simply walked away all those years ago. Would she have been able to live with herself? Forsaking her powers, and letting it all end. Or would another have risen in her place. "You didn't save the world, Dragonborn..." He stood over her, pointing his ghostly sword at her throat, "...you only delayed the inevitable."

5. Ch 3: First Impressions are Important

A/N: No I'm not dead, nor is this story. Life has just been hectic (for all of us honestly), and also I've found myself focusing much more on my own original work than this. Still going to finish it, but it will be slow, partly because I've recently discovered that I have bouts of writing at GRRM's pace. Which is bad. So, to make up for it, here is what is probably going to be the longest chapter of the story. I just honestly can't believe this made it to novella length.

---

"Kynareth had her say, and Alinor was buried in ice and snow, penance for our transgressions. A great light then pierced the clouds, banishing the blizzard, as if the old world had ended and began anew.

Those of us who had taken shelter in the Ivory Palace gazed into the sky as the clouds parted to reveal the most brilliant object Tamriel had ever seen – a burning star. Its violet body and white tail soared across the colored night sky, piercing the northern lights that danced beneath the stars. Naught a second passed before the wails of a newborn babe echoed through the halls as its light shined into the chambers of the king's human mistress.

Was it a sign?

No one could say, but the name Starlight would be known to all from that night onward." – Ruminations on Alinor's Comet.

---

Alycia

Whenever she slept, she would always have dreams. Usually, they only lasted for a few moments, often waking her in the middle of the night. Sometimes though, they would last as long she slept.

As a young girl growing up in Alinor, they were almost always of dragons. Their wings, their scales, their eyes, or even simply soaring the skies like one. They could be vivid as well, their flames bristling around her so much that she always woke with a hot sweat in the middle of the night.

She thought she was going mad, and everyone else seemed to think so, too, save for Vyrandia, who always helped her navigate the court life of the Ivory Palace, keeping their heads down in the face of the Thalmor's contempt—not that it helped as they grew older and bolder. Their father, despite his ruthlessness, ambition, and racial hate, loved them both dearly, though they could never understand why.

As she grew older, the dreams then became of past events, the innocent days she spent in Alinor, her self-discovery in Skyrim, the wars, all of the adventures she had; the good, and the bad, a sequenced cacophony of memories all weaved together by her drive to do right with the powers she had been blessed with.

But other times she would have strange ones, sometimes woven into her own memories like a tapestry. These were almost always foretellings, visions intended to push her in a particular direction, much like the one that brought her to the literal and proverbial other side of the world. Signs of things to come. Some came from gods, others, well, they just came, like the one she was having right now.

It was familiar in the sense that she has had it before, wandering through a dark forest, surrounded by shades of people that turned away from her whenever she came near. She was wearing a set of casual clothes: a pair of dark trousers, a white shirt, and brown boots. Continuing to walk forward, she was soon surrounded by the shades. The more she walked, the more she would hear voices from her past:

"Bastards we may be dear sister, but that doesn't mean we can't have the last word."

"You should take more care with your words, princess, the king does not know about every shadow that lurks in this ancient city."'

"You're either the bravest person I've ever met… or the biggest fool."

"My name is Jason Stone, and this one? He's my dragon."

"Mu for hei Saavik, Dovah do fin Sedin. Dahmaan daar."

"So, I'm housecarl to the Dragonborn? I can hardly believe it, but so long as you'll have me, I will fight by your side."

"You do not even know our tongue, do you? Such arrogance, to dare take for yourself the name of Dovah!"

"A war of succession, a dragon crisis, and a fugitive princess. Good to know the world didn't get boring while I was away."

"This is probably cliché, the both of us being royal bastards and all but… I would ask for your hand."

"I am sorry, my dear Starlight. But this must be done."

"I did say the world could use more like you, didn't I?"

"You are far more precious than you will ever realize, Starlight. How you can so readily throw yourself away for this spawn of Bal, I will never understand…

"This… may be my end, Dragonborn… but your time… will come."

"I don't know what else lies ahead Starlight, but I do know that sword still has many battles left for you."

Eventually, the forest cleared as sunlight pierced through the branches, and Alycia came to a stop at a high cliff edge overlooking a river. It reeked of death; a stench she had long grown used to. The waters were slick and red like blood, running with broken swords and spears, splintered shields, and dead soldiers with different heraldry. She noticed a few red glimmers in the waters, narrowing her focus to find that they were in fact rubies, chipped and swept away. A cool wind from the north brought the howl of a wolf.

A sweet scent then filled her nose, and she followed it till she stood before an old tower looking over a desert. The wind carried the faint strokes of a harp, the words of a song whispering in her ears, and like a moth to a flame, she went inside and climbed the stairs to find a single bedroom with pale blue rose petals wafting about, their sweet scent mixing with the smell of metal, sand and blood; Alycia was left with a bittersweet feeling. With nothing else to see, the Dragonborn turned to leave the way she came.

Upon passing through the door, though, her surroundings transformed, and she was now entering a massive, vaulted hall, fit for a throne, filled with many different animals. Most distinctive were the dragons of many sizes and colors, the smallest no larger than a small dog and the largest rivaling Odahviing, who was two-thirds of Zosiilviing. They avoided her gaze, and if they met it, she would only see envy, save for two—an old bronze and a younger crimson with a sliver of silver on its crest, both of average size—who merely nodded with a measure of respect. At the end was an old and decaying dragon—if she could consider it one—that at first glance reminded her of Durnehviir when she first met him in the Soul Cairn, but even the formerly undead dragon carried himself with humble majesty. This one however, with its tattered, misshapen wings, far too many missing teeth, and scales that scabbed and oozed off, sat on a massive pile of swords that cut into its hideous hide, leaving behind wounds that quickly festered as it glared at her with bitter jealousy and its breath was a poisonous green.

Before its badly curved talons were two direwolves, one in a cage and the other with a tight collar wrapped around its neck. The decrepit beast made a hoarse laugh and unleashed a stream of sickly green flames, burning the caged wolf away while the other choked itself to death trying to reach it while the other animals in the room simply looked on like it was a regular event.

Meow.

Feeling a soft sensation on her shins, Alycia looked down to see a black cat rubbing itself against them, purring softly. Tilting her head in amusement, she picked it up and stroked its black mane. It stared at her with a pair of child-like violet eyes. There was curiosity in them, and they filled her with a warmth she had not felt since.

The kitten then leaped out of her arms, running towards the end of the hall, and Alycia followed, feeling an intense heat coming from there, and her nose picked up the scent of something burning; first it smelled like wood, then metal, sulfur, blood, and finally flesh.

Leaving the large hall, Alycia found herself on a veranda overlooking a large city that she recalled having passed when she was chasing the Daedric Titan. "King's Landing, it's called." Jason's voice echoed through the air, "Capital of the Seven Kingdoms, where Aegon Targaryen first landed when he began his conquest." He had described it as massive port city, like Sentinel but with dragons, as his mother had told him. What Alycia was seeing though, was a city drowned in blood, explosions of green flames pluming in every corner, and a dark mass rose from those crimson depths, winged, and wreathed in shadow and flame.

A pair of glowing red eyes locked with her own and a low growl perforated the rising smoke. Alycia took a deep breath as she readied her Thu'um. The castle shook from its very foundation as the shadow beast roared out a huge plume of black-red flames.

"Yol… TOOR SHUL!"

Her own stream of fire was a white-blue, and the two collided into a gigantic explosion just as the city itself erupted into a mushroom-shaped green flame.

---

29th of Sun's Height 5E 128/278 AC

She woke with a painful gasp, all the wounds she had sustained making themselves known, giving her head a great spin. Nice work, Aly. she groaned. Always overdoing it. She gritted her teeth, and slowly rose from the soft bed she found herself in. Even lying-in bed, she could tell the wounds were not terrible—by her definition at least; she's had much worse. She was more than a little grateful that Serana was not here, because she would never hear the end of it. Hell, she half-expected to find the vampire sleeping uncomfortably in a chair nearby. Then again, if Serana had come, Alycia might not have ended up bedridden in the first place. I've been slacking. she huffed. Looks I've still got a lot to learn.

A startled gasp followed immediately by a clatter grabbed her attention, where she saw a terrified young girl in a plain olive dress standing a few feet from her, a litter of firewood discarded at her feet.

"I-I didn't know you were awake!" She stammered out, "I-I swear!"

"It's alright." Alycia reassured, "Where am I?"

"Y-you're in Winterfell, m'lady." The girl frantically answered, "The s-seat of House Stark. P-please I-I m-mus-"

"How long have I been out?" Alycia cut her off, craning her neck side to side, the stiffness readily apparent, cracking a few times as the muscle beneath stretched.

"T-three days, milady. Y-you're all everyone's talked about around the castle and Winter Town, maybe all Seven Kingdoms. They say the king's already been informed." Great. well, she did create a ruckus… across half the country. She would have asked the maid more, but the poor girl was frantic and backed away, "I-I beg your pardon, milady, I am merely a servant and must find Lord Stark. He said he wanted to be told as soon as you woke. 'At once.' He said."

The girl rushed out of the room, closing the door as she broke into a run, though Alycia still caught sight of a few soldiers standing guard outside. "Laas…" she whispered. Crimson figures filled her vision and she quickly counted over twenty men outside. Rather distrusting, aren't they? and nervous, judging by the sudden stiffness when one of them met her eyes as the door closed. The Dragonborn supposed they had that right; she was the one barreling into their little world after all. Taking a deep breath, she took stock of her circumstances for a few minutes. She found that she was laying on a soft bed in a medium sized bedroom, no longer wearing her armor, but a light grey shift, the bandages underneath. Andúril was also nowhere to be seen, nor was that infernal ebony crafted lockbox that caused her so much trouble.

Thinking on her current situation, she probably should have resorted to Dragon Aspect to kill that Titan, then she wouldn't be in this rather embarrassing position.

At this point in her life, Daedric Titans were old hat to the Alycia; she knew what to expect from them, how they fought, what their weaknesses were, and what were the quickest ways to kill them. Though they were devastating to most any army, especially in large numbers, the half-elf has not had this much trouble with one since her first encounter with them at the end of the Fourth Era, when they came out in droves in the final battle of the Second Dominion War and the Second Planemeld over sixty years later. This Titan, however, was much bigger, about half as large as Zos, with the ferocity of a rabid werebear, faster and far stronger, like it had gained some kind of power that was neither of Bal nor Dagon. Worst of all, the demon had the nerve to swallow that ridiculous strongbox after leaving Valyria, so she knew it was going to have to get messy.

They managed to catch up to it in a large bay bustling with ships outside of King's Landing, and practically the whole world there bore witness to the raging beasts as their flames met numerous times. Alas, the false dragon managed to slip through their fingers and they promptly gave chase again, flying over another inlet of water and then a range of large mountains crawling with castles of various sizes, twisting and banking as they hurled their attacks, some of which missed and smashed into the crags, themselves thrashing into a mountain or two the one time they closed in over the range, causing an unknown amount of damage. Alycia remembered hearing warning bells ringing amok like a jubilee celebration at each and every town or castle that had them, humorlessly concluding that once the chase was over, she would have a lot of explaining to do, to a lot of people.

It was proving to be a real pain in the ass, though. It liked to throw ice around, casting dozens upon dozens of ice spears, ranging from the length of an arrow to a javelin to go along with short bursts of its breath. As Alycia and Zosiilviing closed in, the Daedra would constantly send spears at them, forcing them to slow down and weave through the hail, even using their fire breath to vaporize the ones they could not. You might think it would be simpler to just use a powerful thunderbolt or even Burst Stream and use the spears to chain link the electrical attacks to the Titan, but ice can't conduct lightning, she's tried before—Serana and Zos found it funny, she did not. So, they were stuck with a pursuit. She had finally managed to strike it with a large enough wound to finally force the battle over an open field and hopefully end it once and for all. Though, it was not without its consequences.

While being a master of its power, Alycia always holds back when it comes to using her Thu'um. Always… because she knows exactly how destructive a Dragon Shout can be without restraint, altering the landscape forever. Solstheim in the Merethic Era, and more recently, Hew's Bane Island, south of the Redguard city of Gilane, were the best examples of this power; they used to be peninsulas. A Daedric Titan, even an abnormal one, did not necessitate the use of her Voice's full power, not even the all-powerful Shouts such as Storm Call or Shor's Wrath. If there had been more, perhaps ten, then it would have been different, she might have even called a few dragons for back-up.

Concerned that she would either lose sight of it, or the monster would eventually land in a major city, putting lives at risk, she made a quick plan: Zosiilviing would use Whirlwind Sprint again to close the distance, only this time, as they 'warped,' Alycia would slide down to the white dragon's tail. At the end of the warp, Zos would spin in midair like a cyclone, using the gathered momentum to fling her rider at the Daedra like a slingshot and she would use the Slow Time Shout in midair, effectively stopping the world at the toss of a septim, and slam into the monster, stabbing it through the heart with Andúril, killing it instantly and she would cancel the Shout, allowing Zos to grab them in her talons and land somewhere safe and secluded.

It seemed simple enough. But there's a reason why plans and planning were two distinct ideas.

She missed her mark when the Titan actually managed to angle its body as the Shout took effect so that she would impale its left shoulder rather than the torso. While certainly painful, given the sword's powers against the immortal, it was not the instant kill Alycia desired. So, she improvised by surging an incredible amount of lightning and fire into the blade, exasperating the wound for about an hour-long minute before stopping. With the world back at normal pace, she pulled out her sword and leapt off the demon, narrowly missing its greatsword while deflecting a few more ice spikes. The demon roared in rage and managed to land a good strike of its own with its clawed freehand before she unleashed a stream of her own dragon fire onto its face. It flew off again, shooting several ice spears at her before dodging a gout of Zosiilviing's fire breath, the Dragonborn plumping onto her dragon's back… along with a few spears to the chest and gut, blood pouring from them and even flooding out of her mouth.

She kept chase all the same, staving off the grave wounds with a healing potion and minor spell, the frozen bolts quickly melting away.

By this point, they were high above the clouds and Zos decided to use Whirlwind Sprint one last time and smashed into the demon, causing both of them to fall beneath the cloud line and Alycia took this opportunity to use Drain Vitality as the Titan shoved them back. That was when she noticed they were now over a large castle in an open field with a large forest to the east and a small town outside its walls. This was it. she had determined. It needed to be brought down here. the Shout struck true, and the Daedric Titan quickly lost strength, struggling to stay in flight. The effect lasted as long as it did before it leapt at them again, swinging at them and followed with a stream of magicka fire that she countered with the Mirror Shield Shout, a Thu'um version of ward spells, absorbing the attack and sending it right back. The false dragon in turn dodged and landed outside the castle, mere yards away from a group of riders, giving Alycia the opportunity to disarm it, forcing it to drop its greatsword. It flew at them again, using its breath, but this time Zosiilviing readily met it with her own. The resulting explosion blinded everyone, her own vision clearing just in time to see the beast's fast approaching claws.

As Zos and the Titan grappled, the demon managed to latch its jaws onto Zos' shoulder, refusing to let go until Alycia cast several lightning bolts into its eyes. The white dragon was enraged herself, shoving it off and tried to finish it with Burst Stream, only for the demon to narrowly dodge and fly around them as the Shout indiscriminately destroyed everything it hit. The bugger closed in again and this time, as her dragon smacked it with her clawed talons, she leapt from the saddle and called on Talos to send a massive lightning strike and finally plunged her sword into the demon's chest, piercing the heart. The two fell freely for a few seconds as the Titan let out an agonizing screech, the runes on Andúril glowing intensely, its greatest ability destroying the Daedra's immortal soul in Oblivion, before smashing into the ground in a powerful explosion and she emerged atop the monster, victorious.

As she sheathed Andúril however, Alycia noticed a young girl ride out from the large castle. Coming to a stop a few yards away, the girl dismounted her horse as she stared at her with stars in her eyes, muttering her most well-known title. The Dragonborn snorted at the response she had given. It was pretty ridiculous, but she had been too delirious to care before she ungracefully plunged into the ground below, unconscious before she hit the ground. Not exactly what she had in mind for first impressions, she would have to rectify that soon.

Sighing, she sat up wincing at the strain and noticed the shuttered window next to her bed, and she creaked it open. It was snowing, the sky was thick with darkening clouds. I feel like I've seen this before. indeed, it was like this when she first arrived in Skyrim. Humming, she flexed out her right hand and golden ribbons of light danced away from the palm and onto the rest of her body. She felt the relieving sensation of the wounds mending completely before making a quick flick with her hand again to cancel the magic. She took a moment to briefly inspect her birthmark. Its glow had not faded away.

Shaped like a dragon, the mark has long been a mystery to Alycia and just about anyone she has shown it to, even Paarthurnax and the Greybeards, who revealed that no other Dragonborn had ever been marked that way before. Her father had said that it glowed brilliantly when she was born, and it never did again until she absorbed Mirmulnir's soul fifteen years later. It remained that way for the rest of her adventures in Skyrim, so much so that she was forced to where a pair of black gloves to conceal it to maintain a low profile—about as much as she could at least—until the glow finally faded away at the end of the Fourth Era—when the Thalmor finally surrendered to the Alliance. The fact that it was radiating again after all this time was curious. Anyways, now was not the time for musing on something she has had her entire life.

The maiden from earlier had said that ruler of this castle wanted to be informed as soon as she awoke. Mulling for a moment, Alycia decided she was not going to wait for this 'Lord Stark'; she would come to him. Besides, staying in one place for too long was never her forte anyways, and she had to reclaim Andúril, it was not a weapon she wanted out of her sight for long. And the damn treasure chest so she could this chase once and for all.

Doubting that they would allow her to just walk out, however, Alycia whispered again, "Laas… Yah!"

She took a complete count of the people in the immediate area. Ten outside the door, over thirty above and round, milling about this building. Hmm… not all will be armed, not that I plan to fight anyhow, but first thing's first. she performed a few stretches to loosen the limbs and looked herself over, deciding to lose the nightgown, and glanced at the only door in and out of the bedroom.

Alycia snapped her fingers and the shift disintegrated, replaced by a pitch-black set of void-salted silk and leather vestments clasped with ebony plates, complete with a hooded cloak and cowl. She had long since step down as guildmaster of the Thieves' Guild, leaving the position to Karliah before she departed for Akavir twenty years since the Fifth Era began. She also ended her so-called 'contract' with the Lady Nocturnal, who—surprising to say the least—amicably accepted, even letting her keep the shadowbinding powers she used as a Nightingale, and Sapphire, one of Alycia's few friends that survived the war, stepped in to replace her. Nevertheless, she kept the armor, altering it over time, adding small ebony plates and resewed the nightingale to more resemble the Aldmeri gryphon with a dragon's head. The hood and cowl obscured her face, with only her ruby eyes glowing beneath the shadow. Her rings and circlet also reappeared on their respective places, their enchantments surging into her. Looking back at the window resting above the bed, she noticed that the sky was getting darker which would make this much easier.

Her lips curled nostalgically as she climbed over the sill. Time for a little exploring.

---

Lyanna

Lyanna let out a long yawn as she sat in her seat just as the lords of the North (the ones that arrived that is) began to raise their voices again. She was tired, it has been three days since what many have taken to calling 'the Arrival.' Sitting between her father and Benjen on the high table before the Great Hall, she looked on as her father's bannermen argued amongst themselves over what should be done with their 'guest' when she woke up. They had been on their way to Winterfell from their respective castles to join with them as they made their way south down the Kingsroad, the rest of the northern houses further south would meet them at Moat Cailin. Obviously, they all witnessed the Arrival in some way whether it was the battle itself or Zosiilviing's presence in the skies of the north scaring the hell out of them, most of the lords rode for Winterfell ahead of their progress.

Thinking back on the that night, however, she was completely reckless, even the bloody dragon poked her about it as much as she used her white-blue flames to destroy the carcass of what she called a Daedric Titan. Bran and her father had taken turns chewing her out like an old piece of dried beef while Benjen looked on. the Dragonborn herself was carted off to the castle for Maester Walys to treat her wounds. The scolding was then interrupted when Zosiilviing plopped a rather large, runic chest that carved almost completely out of dragonglass, pulled from the dead demon, asking them to lock it up inside Winterfell until, what was it, her 'monah' recovered from the battle, along with her sword, Andúril. The wolf-girl recalled being dumbstruck when she delicately lifted the sheathed greatsword from the ground, marveling at its beauty and impossibly light weight for a weapon as large as Ice. Then again, it was supposedly the sword of an ancient elven god, and that was enough to paralyze anyone with wonder. She nearly dropped it in fright when it began to vibrate subtly in her hands, the intricate runes on the scabbard and pommel glowing a light lavender, as if some presence were evaluating her.

"It does that." Zosiilviing explained, which Lyanna could only absently nod before she handed it over to her father. He would have it and the chest place inside the old vault beneath the keep and under heavy guard. It was a sealed room with only one way in and out, and her father chose his most trustworthy men to guard it.

As for what her punishment was, well, as furious as her father was, he simply did not know how to punish his daughter for a situation like this, ultimately settling on what she hated most and put her to needlework for seemingly endless hours on various things that required it. Banners, blankets, clothes, cleaning cloths, even stitching the leathers on horse saddles. It was maddening. Especially the saddles. While she was actually well off when it came to sewing, being able to knit together her own dresses, she truly did not care for it as a pastime like most noble girls.

Lyanna had also wanted to approach Zosiilviing herself as soon as she finished the chores for the day, but the dragon took off at first light after the battle, leaving behind a burned message on the ground that said, "I'll be around."

How did she even do that? Lyanna wondered, Oh, the hells with it; magic is magic. the white dragon constantly flew over the general area around Winterfell and the Wolfswood, occasionally diving into the forest, most likely to snatch an animal. Lyanna knew that the Houses that resided there had seen or even encountered her more than once. Lord Glover, whose seat was deep within those woods, demanded to know what her father intended to do about this the moment he arrived. Brandon had said that their father simply answered the master of Deepwood Motte with a stare that simply asked, "Really?" Zosiilviing herself had since flown towards the northern mountains last night, not returning since.

Speaking of lords, many have been coming since the Arrival, no doubt because some had either seen the battle, or simply Zosiilviing soaring about. However, they were already on their way here, the ones heading south that is, but they chose to ride ahead of their processions with their sons and best men to Winterfell to either inform her father, only to find out about what had happened. Since then, it's been quiet, with hushed whispers about what will come next. For the last three days, the very person she had idolized for much of her life has been the talk of the castle and Winter Town, maybe even half of Westeros. Lyanna allowed herself a smile with that thought. Simply knowing Alycia Aldmeri was real—here and alive—was enough to make her feel a bit livelier—and apprehensive—than usual. She felt the eyes of the northern lords on her when her father and Brandon recounted everything to them, but she paid no mind at all, considering the circumstances. Everyone from here to Dorne will hear about it within a fortnight, how Lyanna Stark came so close to becoming a late-night snack to the first dragon seen in Westeros in over a hundred years, something Brandon and Benjen had not stopped teasing her about.

Raised voices interrupted her thoughts as her father's bannermen debated over their guest. Brandon shook his head while Benjen chuckled. Lyanna just rolled her eyes. Their father, however, just sat silently and as still as a stone as he watched them bicker. Servants moved in and out of the hall carrying either plates of food or pitchers filled with wine. The Great Hall was nearly half full, as many lords were yet to arrive, and Lyanna knew her father ordered Maester Walys to send ravens to those who were not here to simply wait for further instruction—hence his absence—but there was still enough for two sides to form in the debate.

One side was led by the Karstarks and the Umbers who felt Dragonborn and Zosiilviing were a threat and should be made to leave immediately. The other side was led by the Dustins and the Manderlys who agreed that they were a threat, but also argued they should be made allies, as having a demigod and a dragon on their side would make even the Targaryens wary when dealing with the north. Other lords were undecided. After all, something like this has never happened before, at least in recent memory. Lyanna could see the new lord of Bear Island, Jorah Mormont, rub his fingers on his forehead in consternation, while the lord of Hornwood was inspecting his tankard with inane interest, and the ghostly-faced Lord Bolton and his son Roose diverted their pale eyes back and forth between the two emerging sides. Some of the other lords glanced between Lyanna and her father, as if they couldn't decide whether they should ask Rickard Stark something about the Dragonborn, or her directly because apparently she was the expert on the subject.

She blinked. Hmm. I suppose I am. she pinched the bridge of her nose and took into consideration the fact that she really was the only one in this castle who really showed interest in any of the library's Tamrielic books past the age of ten, even the maester himself. Even after that incident with those boys years ago, Lyanna knew she was still the subject of ridicule when they thought she wasn't paying attention. Brandon, and sometimes Eddard, would always say they were just words, words they would try to silence, but words all the same, and words can cut just as deeply as any blade. It was one thing to silence them in Winterfell, but beyond… she hated that they always had to step in her defense, when she could do it herself—physically or not. Then they would say that maybe it was time to let go of those stories.

Not if they're real. she thought. Not if you dream of them occasionally. Indeed, she had one in the morn. A sea of fire, Zosiilviing and another dragon, black as night, fighting above. She felt sharp pain in her belly, blood running down her thighs. Then she felt the cold of winter and found herself standing before a silver dragon with violet eyes. Its breath was fire at first, before turning to ice, and it wrapped itself around her protectively. Her hands were grasping a peculiar sword, with inscriptions not unlike Andúril, the tip of the blade sinking into the ground at her feet.

"Enough!" Her father shouted, bringing her from her stewing thoughts. "Regardless of your arguments, this Dragonborn is under my hospitality, and I do not need to remind you of the ways of the north." Threat or not, the Dragonborn was practically under guest right anyways because they had given her room and treated her wounds regularly for the last few days. "It is clear she is a foreigner. It is also clear that she wields incredible and terrifying power, and she controls the first dragon to appear in Westeros in over a hundred years. We can ill afford to underestimate either of them, so I will handle this in the manner I see fit."

Wishing she was somewhere else, she picked up the goblet sitting in front of her and drank, wanting it to be wine or ale and set it back down.

"With respect, my lord." Bowed one lord. "We do not know this… Dragonborn, outside of rumors and tales that your daughter seems to know very much about."

Lyanna blinked again.

"What kind of woman fights, anyways?" spat Jon Umber. Some called him Greatjon because of his size and boisterous attitude. "A woman has no place on the battlefield." He declared this as he nearly spilt his wine on his jerkin.

"My family has a Tamrielic book about the Second Era on their calendar." Said Gregor Forrester. "Apparently, women are allowed to fight in armies alongside the men and have been for thousands of years and are said to be just as fierce."

Lyanna made a tiny smirk, locking eyes with the man. And that makes you, my new best friend. Then Jon Umber soured it. "Then they're barking mad, those Tamrielans!" he sneered. "Nothin' good'll ever come from that, I tell you." A few of the younger lords muttered their agreements but the rest stayed largely silent on the issue. Lyanna was somewhat thankful for that at least. She's probably killed more people at my age than you ever will in your life, you big oaf! At least his father said nothing, though that wasn't helping either, but everyone knew of Jon Umber's disregard for etiquette, even the presence of the Lord of Winterfell.

"I heard she killed her own father." Claimed one of the Karstarks, "That alone should be enough to tell us what kind of person she is."

"The north is no place for kinslayers." Jon stated that like it was fact. It wasn't.

"Hear, hear!" yelled someone from their side.

Well, that's not fair. Lyanna's eyes narrowed into a glare, and she found herself speaking before she could stop herself, "Shouldn't we allow her to speak for herself? I doubt she had any choice. Not that she needs to explain herself to you, anyways."

The Great Hall grew silent as all eyes fell on her. She suddenly felt much smaller, like a newborn puppy hiding behind its mother. She caught Benjen in her the corner of her eye staring directly at the table as he awkwardly scratched his head, while their father's stone-faced expression trained itself onto her with interest.

"Perhaps, you can shed light on that then, my lady." Jon Umber suggested in a tone that teetered on the condescending. Oh, how she wanted to smack that tiny smirk on his face. Her father and brothers may not have noticed it, but she did. She always did.

Briefly she glanced at her father, and he gave her a short nod.

Taking a deep breath, she rose from her seat and locked eyes with Umber, "The Siege of Alinor, the battle that ended the Second Dominion War, was nearly a century and a half ago. The songs and books written on it described it as a terrible struggle. Dragons and gryphons flitted about the skies while the streets and walls blazed with fires so hot, they turned to glass as soldiers of the Dominion and the Alliance tore each other apart for control of the ancient city, and that was not even the worst of it." Gods, she wished she could someway to show them how she imagined it, but she went on. "The worst was when as a last resort, High King Aldail II Aldmeri and his remaining councilors conducted a forbidden ritual that reopened the Gates of Oblivion—"

"Oblivion?"

"It's supposed to be a demonic realm." Lyanna answered, noticing the slight widening of their eyes, "Whatever it is, the Gates are essentially portals that connect our world to that place, and all of them are in Tamriel. With the ritual, the Dragonborn's father unleashed an army of demons into the continent, including the monstrous Titans—which the very creature the Dragonborn pursued and killed right outside the Hunter's Gate was one of. And if you don't believe that, there is that huge, wicked black sword laying outside Winterfell's smithy for you to look at." The titan's massive greatsword was hauled into the castle to be examined by Walys and the blacksmiths. It took twenty men to carry it. Lyanna had looked at it herself once when she was able, and it unnerved her. It unnerved anyone who stared at it long enough, realizing that it was bigger than the giants of old are described as being. The blade's edge was serrated, but also extremely thick compared to any other sword, which would make one think of a cleaver instead.

"The Dragonborn and her elder sister, Vyrandia Aldmeri, then stormed their family's palace to confront their father alone, and only they emerged when the fighting was done when the Gates were resealed. It cannot be said whether they truly killed their father, but given the circumstances, there might not have been any other choice." Lyanna paused for breath, watching them take in the information.

"There is always a choice." Retorted one lord. It almost sounded like something Ned would say. Lyanna really had to wonder if he had seen or heard anything up in the Eyrie.

"Perhaps," she replied, "but the point is, it is not our place to judge someone based on events that took place long before our time, especially when all we have is secondhand information." She leaned against the table and stared down everyone in the hall. "Nor can we force her to do anything. I'm quite sure you have all seen what's been flying around this part of the north at least once by now, as well as the new moat surrounding the castle." The result of Zosiilviing's lightning breath striking the earth as the Daedric Titan narrowly dodged. It was nearly twelve feet deep and made an ugly, near-complete circle around Winterfell, and was filled with a molten rock that did not cool until the night after, turning into a kind of glass that had the color of smoke. Lyanna had laughed when she watched Maester Walys have a field day collecting samples, carting them back and forth into his turret.

There was a general agreement that sounded off among the lords, she could tell, a handful of them nodding their heads in apprehension. Though, despite her sincerity, the overwhelming evidence, and the veiled threat, some were still skeptical, "I still find it hard to believe some of those stories." said one of these men, "Perhaps it is true that the Targaryens and their Valyrian ancestors were not the only ones who could tame dragons, but to do even a little bit of what this woman is said to have accomplished…"

Lyanna folded her arms with tedious familiarity. "And we wouldn't deny any of Brandon the Builder's creations, correct?" She counted with her fingers, "Winterfell, the Wall, Storm's End, the Hightower, we practically take pride in them, despite how distant the first King of Winter is in memory."

"Perhaps, my lady. But those constructions are real, we can see and touch them."

"Well, I don't think the Dragonborn would allow you to touch her," Lyanna snickered. "but she is real and is in this very castle. Asleep and healing, yes, but real."

"She could be an imposter who took the real one's name." Said Ludd Whitehill, "I hear that Braavos is home to assassins that wear the faces of their kills."

"How would you know that my lord?" Lyanna asked. "Have you traveled there?" When no response came back, she added, "Of course not." She heard Brandon almost spit out his wine with that snide remark.

"Neither have you, my lady." Ludd smirked, "Nor have you been to that continent you fantasize about." Lyanna felt her blood seethe.

Before she could bite back though, Jorah Mormont interrupted, "What about living that long?"

"Alycia is half-elf and half-human, it's not uncommon for them to live for centuries. Some full-blooded elves were alive during the Doom of Valyria."

"Isn't there a story that says she killed a god? That's impossible."

Lyanna didn't really have anything to say about that one. It even boggled her.

"What about the claim that she's been to Valyria? She could be carrying some plague."

"Don't be ridiculous, my lord. If—"

"If she really is supposed to be some sort of god-like figure," Lord Bolton finally spoke, "why did she still end up bedridden and in bandages? Perhaps you are overestimating this Dragonborn."

"That is not the same as fighting ordinary people." Lyanna retorted. "Daedric Titans are vicious monsters, and no one is ever the same in power or even in size. If anything, we should be thankful that there was only one. Just one can destroy entire armies."

"…having a dragon that could probably eat Balerion the Dread helps too…" she heard Benjen mumble.

"Oh, shut up you!" Lyanna hissed at him over her shoulder.

And then she heard it, some idiot that she later would not recall nor care to, decided to let his words pour out like the ale he swilled. "Perhaps," He hiccupped, "the lady Lyanna should remember her place and…" he stumbled forward, the other lords, especially Brandon, eyed him very dangerously.

"Be very careful with what you say next." Her older brother growled.

"…o-*hiccup* pen her legs for the Lord of Storm's End." Idiot finished.

That was it. The chalice flew from her hand before she realized, striking Idiot square in the face. He fell backwards like a brick, hitting the stone floor with a resounding thud. The act was so spontaneous that the servants pouring wine and ale froze in shock, the liquids overflowing from the cups, not that their owners cared to notice as even they were petrified by her outburst.

You act without a thought to the world, don't you? her late mother's words echoed. Yes. Lyanna. Did.

"FUCK. YOU." She roared.

The collective gasp that immediately filled the Great Hall was glorious. Not a moment later there was a shuffling of other goblets and plates as Brandon climbed over the table and tried to attack Idiot. Several of the other lords got between them and stopped her brother from killing the man, but he was still able to get a good punch through with a loud crack and knocked him out. Another group then dragged Idiot out of the hall. Whoever the hell he was, his punishment from her father would not be quick.

Brandon then went back for his seat as all eyes fell on Lyanna again. That wasn't very ladylike. she knew, but her blood was boiling, and it felt good. She wasn't sure about the anger that was about to follow, however. Maybe it was because of the years of frustration at the belittlement she has had to endure since she was a girl, all of it born from her refusal to abide by tradition.

"What?" She asked as the gazes refused to abate.

"Perhaps, you should reconsider those stories, my lady." Muttered Ludd Whitehill. Oh for the love of…

"Are you serious?!" Lyanna yelled. "Reconsider for what? Even a dog has the sense to bite back when angered, and I am a direwolf of Winterfell, not some delicate flower from Highgarden. Oh, wait." She laughed, "You honestly believe the stories of the Dragonborn and other heroes like her are what made me react that way, don't you?" Gods she wished they did, though. Being able to read a book of magic and watch it disintegrate in her hands as the knowledge is sent into her mind, and then conjure a spear of ice as she just didn't just do years' worth of study in only a few seconds. Maybe then these fools would stop treating her like that delicate flower, and respect, or dare she say, fear her.

"No one is assuming that of you, Lady Stark." Jon Umber said, but Lyanna was having none of it.

"Spare me the assertions, my lord." she waved him off. "I have had to endure your hushed ridicules my entire life! I will not have your patronizing tones now."

Behind her, Brandon tried to come in her defense, but their father waved him back down. "From my desire to hold a sword, to idolizing the very definition of a hero, either you, your brothers, uncles, and cousins, have looked down on me for it. And when that very hero lands on our doorstep, confirming those tales, you treat her with suspicion and fear, and question the word of a girl! A girl who saw that legend come to life, as well as her family, and every person who lives in this castle. And your own opinions on the entirety of this matter stem from the fact that the Dragonborn is a woman!'

The lords blinked, surprised by her outburst. "Forgive us, my lady." Rickard Karstark breathed, "We did not mean to upset you. But we can't all help being curious about the truths surrounding this woman." Curious? Oh, damn your apologies. "Skeptical even. We have long thought her tales were all hogwash invented by drunken fools over the years and some people unfortunately just enjoyed them too much for their own good." He completely ignored the iron glare Lyanna shot at him. "It's true that we have all heard a story or two about these kinds of legends as children, but as we grew older, they were just that to us: legends."

"Oh. Is that so?" Lyanna mocked, "Well then gods be praised because now you can start reading about them again and no one will bat an eye."

"That," her father interjected, rising from his seat, "is quite enough. From all of you." There it was. The stern look that could quiet even a crow. Lyanna took a deep breath, brushed one of her brown locks behind her ear, and sat back down at her father's behest. She wanted to bang her head against the table. It was like talking to a wall. A wall of stupid. Honestly, if the Night's Watch were to report that the Others had torn down the Wall, they would likely just laugh it off and go back to boasting and drinking! Challenge their opinions though, and everyone loses their minds!

The door adjacent to them opened before more could be said as Maester Walys entered and hurriedly made his way to her father's side and produced a small scroll—a message by raven. Dark wings, dark words. The old proverb played in Lyanna's head like a mantra as her father took the scroll and opened it to read its contents. The candles flickered briefly as a low wind suddenly entered the hall, as if to tell them something had happened. The lords of the north quietly took back their seats and remained silent. Lyanna noticed the change in the air, a sudden sense of trepidation wrapped with elation grew inside her, a feeling surging through her veins that drew her outside, and she began fidgeting her fingers again. She stared at her father as his usual stone expression changed with a higher than usual raising of his brow—which was still small but very significant for him.

"Look at us now, my lords." Rickard began, handing the scroll to Brandon for him to read as well, "Shocked to our cores with these discoveries, struggling to explain what we don't understand, and left with a wonder of what it will all mean for the north." Brandon's eyes widened as he finished reading. Dark wings, dark words. "Perhaps even all the Seven Kingdoms, given this message from King's Landing." Dark wings, dark words indeed. "Lyanna is right, it is not our place to judge or make demands of this person. Or demean anyone who sees her as their hero."

Lyanna's eyes widened; she didn't expect her father of all people to agree with her on this subject. Then again, it is impossible to deny given the circumstances. Already thinking about the ways this can benefit your southern ambitions, father? Having an ally in someone like that would be the deciding factor for any conflict, but she felt dirty just thinking about it. They were the north; they didn't play the games of the south. But given the marriage arrangements her father made for Brandon and herself... ugh! Now she was thinking of her own betrothal again.

"What does the message say, my lord?" Asked Jon Umber, "Have the Targaryens caught the scent of one of their own?" Lyanna could not resist the urge to roll her eyes and groan.

"Perhaps." Lord Stark began, "After all, we were not the only ones to bore witness to that battle. It was also near King's Landing as well as above Dragonstone earlier." Lyanna felt a shiver. The pieces were already moving. "The very same night of this Arrival, I had Maester Walys send a raven to King's Landing to inform them of what had happened. However, they had already sent their own ravens first, to all of the Seven Kingdoms. The king has demanded that wherever and whoever she lands on, is to do everything in their power to capture her and bring her to King's Landing."

The Dragonborn? Or Zosiilviing? Lyanna could not say. How much did they see? Was the battle simply over Blackwater Bay, or close enough to the city to see Alycia? What about Dragonstone?

"Capture her?" Brandon interjected, "I hardly think that's possible." Took the words right out of her mouth.

Lyanna then noticed a hooded figure sitting at the end of the hall had started moving towards the main door. She felt that she recognized that person. Wasn't that the traveling bard who came from Winter Town this morning and sang The Beauty of Dawn when they were breaking their fast? She had enjoyed it very much but could not recall if she had spoken to the bard.

"She is still unconscious, my lord." Said Lord Bolton. "If she is kept that way, it could be done."

Wyman Manderly laughed, "And incur the wrath of that dragon? You must have a deathwish, Lord Bolton."

No longer interested in the conversation, Lyanna kept focused on the figure. She was finding it really hard to recall this person, despite meeting him this morning. Wait, no it was a woman. Wasn't it? It was like something was preventing her from remembering. She could remember seeing the woman unhooded but for the life of her could not recall what she looked like. Only a pair of azure eyes emerged from the blurred memory, if only briefly.

"But… if we turn her over to the Targaryens, they may try to gain her alliance instead. What shall we do then, my lord?" Questioned another lord.

"What about the treasure chest the woman brought back from Valyria? Would they try to claim it as well?"

Benjen leaned in and whispered, "They'll probably try. They'll fail miserably, but they'll try."

Lyanna snorted, "I'm more interested in what's inside. It's not like they'd be able to open it. Maester Walys has tried everything, even though Zosiilviing specifically said not to bother." She then frowned, "Sorry for snapping at you."

"Again," Her father spoke with finality at the northern lords." And now he was getting irritated. "I will deal with this in the way I see fit."

"No harm done." Benjen shook his head, "You've probably had all that bottled up for a while."

She smiled, then asked, "Ben do you see that hooded figure over there?" She cocked her head at the door.

Benjen narrowed his eyes, "Isn't it that—"

"Bard?" Lyanna finished, "Yes, but I can't for the life of me remember who she is."

"She?" Benjen scrunched his face in confusion, "I remember a man." What in the…?

They were interrupted when Brandon spoke, "We are aware of the risks, and the benefits. More than anything else, do not antagonize her. Rumors, choices, and tales aside, she may very well have saved my life and the lives of my men—a few of them your sons. That makes her a friend in my eyes. At this point, I can safely say I am a believer myself." The lords quieted down for good with that. Lyanna wasn't necessarily surprised by that, more that he openly acknowledged her favorite stories despite dismissing them for years. She looked up at him and they briefly shared a glance, his eyes said, 'I suppose I owe you an apology.' She exhaled a small smile that he returned.

SLAM!

The main doors of the Great Hall slammed open as a one of the servants assigned to attend the Dragonborn's quarters frantically rushed inside. She looked completely bewildered. Lyanna's own eyes immediately widened like dinner plates. Holy…

"SHE'S AWAKE, SHE'S AWAKE, SHE'S AWAKE!" her voice cracked, "THE DRAGONBORN IS AWAKE!"

The entire hall stood silent and still as a frozen lake as a dozen horrified faces turned to her and her family, the hooded figure disappearing into the night outside.

… shit.

---

Alycia

Climbing wasn't difficult, the walls had all sorts of juts and ledges grab onto. Alycia also found it interesting to feel a faint heat within the granite stones themselves as she grasped them, despite the colder weather. This Winterfell was massive, that much she was able to gather from the battle above, but she was much too focused on killing the Titan to really admire it at the time. Now though? Damn. was her only thought. Judging from the size of the building she was on once she reached the roof, this was the keep. Balancing herself on a wolf headed gargoyle over a ledge, she took a much better look at the fortress below her. The castle exuded a mixture of endurance and majesty. Almost like a walled town, and that's not including the one already outside, Winterfell was built not just to withstand sieges, but the winter as well, which she was sure was just as brutal as back home. Some areas from what she could see were crumbling and seemingly abandoned, leading her to assume that the castle was also ancient, its owners building on top of previous generations; fit for a thousand-year dynasty.

GRUOOAARRHHK!

The Dragonborn looked to the north, the direction of Zosiilviing's screech, and based on the faintness of it, she had to be a few leagues out, likely in a mountainous region. Very typical of you. Alycia chuckled. I really hope you didn't scare them too much, kiir. she would have to call her soon, but first, she looked back to the castle below.

"The original foundation must have been there." Alycia thought aloud, gazing at a much smaller round shell keep adjacent to the larger one, a belfry with a caved in roof beside it, a graveyard littered with markers of various ages in its shadow. Beyond the walls, she could see a medium sized town a short distance away, further still, she could see a few military garrisons bearing different banners making their way to the castle.

Bells then began to ring across the castle. From her perch, she watched all of the castle guards and soldiers run amok under the impression that they were under attack. Her elven ears picked up several voices calling out orders, from asking about the alarm, to conducting searches across the fortress. Had to happen sooner or later. she continued to look around, and noticed a small forest within the castle itself, cordoned off by walls in the western section. Wonder what that is.

"Feim…" She became as ghostly as an undead spirit, crouching on the gargoyle, and leaped off the tower, landing on the roof an adjacent building connected by a bridge, the effect of Shout wearing off as she went inside and into the shadows of the halls, discovering that this building was likely the castle's armory, full of weapons ranging from longbows to daggers, enough for an army. Alycia could assume that this is where they may have stored Andúril, but she was doubtful. Nonetheless, it didn't hurt to have a look around, taking care to stick to the shadows as there were several guards standing in different corners.

Avoiding them and anyone else that came and went was rather easy though, even with the chaos she just caused by her vanishing act and patrols were much more alert. But since it was very cloudy with a light snowfall, the night was much murkier, the torches that littered almost every corner creating even longer, darker shadows. Alycia could also manipulate the way those shadows were cast and disappear into them, drowning her own sound, just as if she was mere inches from an individual, even a dog or cat, and they would never suspect someone was there. Whenever she entered a better lit area, she would flex her left hand and slowly make a fist, the shadows growing darker, further enshrouding her, and if necessary, create a diversion by dousing the flames with a small spell. Blending with the empowered darkness, she crept past the castle residents while emitting a slight illusionary magic that subtly clouded their minds, essentially making them completely ignorant of her presence.

Anyone who had little to no experience with guile and sneaking can just make themselves invisible and walk right past them… only for said individual's footsteps to be heard as clear as breaking clay pots, or worse, the guards would suddenly turn around and surely notice the blurred mass of air in front of them. Others are just as likely knock a guard out before they sensed them and quickly move on, only for another to notice the collapsed form of their comrade and then alert everyone else. The most skilled thieves and assassins would do neither, using the environment to their advantage with distractions, to draw the attention away; the blade was always the last resort. While searching for Andúril, Alycia couldn't help but admire some of the weapons and armor neatly stacked into the racks lined up together. It was impressive work for castle forged steel. No sign of her Andúril though, then again it was too much to hope that they would be stupid enough to toss with all the regular blades. Moving down another floor, she found row after row of weapons and armor, whetstones, and oiling cloths; there was enough to arm an army.

Coming down another floor, she came across a bridge that led back into the keep, a handful of lit torches lined across, where a throng of guards led by a young man with shoulder length hair and a well-trimmed beard marched through. She flexed her left hand and slowly made a fist, the shadows growing darker, further enshrouding her as she crouched in a nearby corner behind a mannequin dressed in a full set of plate armor. All she had to do was remain rooted there, just outside of the torchlight's range and wait for them to pass, then she would go for the doorway leading outside adjacent to the bridge. She could hear them conversing as they went by, the younger man giving them orders to pass on to others, they were definitely looking for her.

"How did she get past the men outside her room, milord?" one of the guards asked.

"Who can say?" The young man answered. "Apparently, she climbed out of the window."

"In only a shift?" Another guard asked incredulously.

"Mad is what she is." Said another.

The young man then looked past the soldiers, "Lyanna, you know the most about her. What can you tell us?"

The group of soldiers split in half and looked at a young girl no older than fifteen behind them. Alycia's brow slightly rose when she realized it was the same girl who rode out of the castle at the end of her battle with the Titan. Though she was now wearing a finely sown blue-grey wool dress and had her brown hair flowing freely.

The girl furrowed her brow, "Alycia Aldmeri is supposedly a master thief… and an assassin." Ho-ho! This just got interesting.

"What?" the young man asked incredulously.

"I'm not sure if she still is," the girl fidgeted her thumbs, "but she is said to be incredibly good at remaining unseen. A… shadowbinder, I think. Check every dark corner."

Alycia quirked an eyebrow. She knows a lot. it wasn't really a surprise that others would know beyond her 'heroic deeds,' including some of her more nefarious dealings. Being a member of the Thieves Guild also meant keeping your identity largely a secret, especially if you were a Nightingale. That was impossible for Alycia. She was the most famous thief because of who and what she was beyond lurking through shadows and stealing from coffers, and everyone recognized her for it. Nobody was really surprised by the revelation of her being a Nightingale when she formed the Mirahjor.

As for when and why people began to attribute the Dark Brotherhood's revival to her, she really could not say; the death of Titus Mede II was not by her blade. Often, she wondered how she was even able to do some of things she did in such a short time.

Hearing a howling wind creaking against a nearby shutter, Alycia took this chance to flex her left hand again, forcing it open and let the winds in, shooting a small swivel of ice at the torch, just enough to extinguish the flame and still remain unnoticed.

This alarmed the group, "What the hell was that?" A guard asked.

"Just the wind. Search thoroughly," the young man ordered, "keep your eyes open, and do not attack or make any threats if you find her. The last thing we need is that dragon coming back and showing us what Aegon the Conqueror did to Harrenhal." Alycia playfully rolled her eyes. Oh, you poor boy… if it came to that, you would be eagerly riding into Zosiilviing's gullet to get away from me. she remained rooted to her spot as the soldiers spread out, theirs hands on the hilts of the hilts of their swords. Alycia quirked an eyebrow. Seriously? their lord just said no threats. Jumpy. Well, no matter. they at least took the girl's advice and searched every nook and cranny.

One of the soldiers approached her hiding spot, and she pushed a little bit more into his mind with her illusions, taking a few silent steps further back into the corner as he closed in. He was practically staring into her red orbs but passed over and moved on.

"Nothing here, milord." He called out.

The door that led outside was opened by an even younger boy, sharing the same features as the other two. Must be related. Likely siblings.

"Brandon! Lya!" he called out.

The aforementioned turned around to greet the boy.

"Benjen?" Brandon questioned, "I thought you went with father?" He waved off the other guards and directed them to check the upper floors.

"He sent me to look for you," Benjen panted.

"What is it?" Lyanna asked. "What's happened?"

"It's the Dragonborn's sword." Benjen answered. "It's missing."

Is that so? Alycia quirked her brow. Good luck unsheathing it. Not that you'll get far, anyway. She wasn't really worried if her other equipment or jewelry she had before passing out were missing either; if they were stolen, she would just steal them back. Alycia allowed herself a smile of the younger days when some old friends in the Thieves' Guild would steal from her. Pranks obviously, all in good fun; she would do the same to them, just never from the Vault like a certain Frey. One incident involved Delvin and Vex once trying to steal an unsheathed Andúril from the armory in Proudspire, not realizing they could not take it unsheathed when it was not in its scabbard. Delvin had accidently knocked it over when he tripped over a grindstone. It plopped onto his wrist as he fell to the ground, and he could not lift it off. The poor lecher was trapped there all night, Vex leaving him to dry. Lydia and Jason would find him passed out in the morning, leaving them red-faced with laughter, a story the old codger would never live down.

That being said, Andúril was not a weapon she would let just anyone walk away with, even if was ultimately useless to them.

"What?!" Lyanna blurted out. "How?! It was kept inside the castle vault under heavy guard with only one way inside. How could—"

"It must have been the Dragonborn." Brandon assumed. "You said she was a master thief, didn't you?"

Benjen scratched his head, "Why would she need to steal it back? Do you think she might feel threatened?"

Not really. Alycia mentally answered. Cautious maybe, but not threatened. Life has taught her to always be cautious when meeting new people in unfamiliar lands, especially the affluent and wealthy. But threatened? Difficult to do.

"Wait." Lyanna tilted her head, "What about that bard?"

That caught Alycia's attention.

"What bard?" Brandon asked.

"The one that came this morning." Benjen answered. "From Winter Town."

Brandon seemed confused, "I don't recall a bard."

"What do you mean you don't?" Lyanna frowned. "You were right there with us when she performed in the courtyards this morning!" the girl paused, "Wait no, it was the Great Hall." Someone was using illusion magic on them, Alycia realized. "I think I remember you trying to work you honeyed words on her."

"But's that just it Lyanna." Benjen cut in. "He doesn't remember, and I remember the bard being a man."

"Lord Stark?" a guardsman interrupted.

"It's nothing." Brandon waved him off. "Keep looking. If you've searched the armory, tell your men to double back into the guardsman's hall and then the old keep." The guardsman nodded and scurried off.

Alycia scrutinized the siblings, deciding to reach out with her own magic, looking for the tendrils that were clouding their minds, and found a trio of very familiar strands that were not only stronger, but more subtle than her own. She sighed a tiny breath of amusement, sending a small pulse of sensory magic that traveled throughout the castle.

You're here sooner than I would've expected, but I am not surprised that you would eventually follow. She said, feeling the pulse hit the source of the illusion tendrils.

A response pulsed back. What can I say? It gets boring when you're not around.

When did you arrive?

Yesterday at dawn. The clouds were very pretty flying from the west, mind you. I can see why they would call it the Sunset Sea from this side, even though there's no edge to fall off… the sarcasm was not lost on her. Might be a few spooked fisherman… and dead pirates.

Alycia winced, very nearly breaking her shadow magic. That remark was going to make this much more complicated. Where is he?

In the mountains north from here, with your baby. I rode on Arvak through the night.

And you?

The only image Alycia received was that of a weirwood beside a dark pool of water amidst a deep forest of colorful trees and shrubs surrounded by walls, the walled woods she had seen from the roof of the keep.

This would complicate things further, Alycia knew, but at this point she didn't care. She needed to make a better impression if this is to go on without any kind of hostility, though she imagined it would linger regardless. The residents of the castle were already panicking from her vanishing act, what's a little more turmoil to set her own tone for the imminent meeting with Lord Stark, and his vassals.

She stood up and headed for the doorway, flexing her illusions, and passed by the group with ease because they could not perceive her in anyway; from their perspective, it would just be the same rustling wind.

At least, it was supposed to be that way.

"Holy Seven Hells!" Jumped the girl as Alycia made it to the door, her hands on the latch.

Quickly hugging the wall within the doorway, Alycia peeked her head around the corner and noticed the girl was looking frantically at the direction she just went, startling the men who immediately went for their swords.

"Lyanna?" stumbled the boy.

Lyanna said nothing, her eyes completely trained on the doorway Alycia was leaning against. Interesting. the Dragonborn thought. Natural aptitude? Maybe. While magic was innate for everyone, there were always those who had a greater propensity for other abilities that involve it. Some can conjure great storms of fire or ice than the average battlemage, while others excel at transmutation or summoning. Alycia herself was a master of each school, having the time for it, but even she would know that there some who are simply born with the talent to exceed her.

"Lya?" Brandon grasped her right shoulder, giving her light tug. "Did you see something?"

And this Lyanna? She was interesting. Capable of shrugging off illusions and seeing the shadows within the shadows. That is probably why she remembers the bard better than her brothers. The Dragonborn wondered about what else she could be capable of with instruction.

The girl remained silent trying to focus on where Alycia had just been before looking back at them with a confused look on her face, "What? There's no way you couldn't have noticed that."

"Noticed what?" Brandon asked, his hand leaving his sword.

"Someone literally just walked past us!"

"This is no time for games, Lya." Brandon chided, though Alycia spotted a tiny tremble in his voice.

"I saw something too." Benjen mumbled. "Sort of… like a black wisp given human form."

"That's not what I saw." Lyanna shook her head. She screwed up her face, like she was trying to remember, before widening in realization. "It was her!"

Brandon considered them both, before looking in Alycia's direction as well, narrowing his eyes at the doorway, and began to slowly approach. She could tell he wanted to reach for his sword and was fighting the urge to do so. His grey eyes scrutinized the doorway she was hiding behind, slowly widening as they began to notice her glowing red ones staring right back. So, he can do it too. nowhere near that of his younger siblings, but it was there. Alycia could see the tendrils of her friend's illusion slowly leaving them, replacing them with her own to keep the confusion going and sent another pulse out. You think I should let them follow me?

Yes. To the godswood. It looks like the perfect place. Their father, Lord Rickard Stark, will have to come to us. Along with his vassals.

Alycia peered back at the Starks one last time. She could tell the girl was certain of what she saw—what she was seeing—whereas the boy was still confused, and the young man was coming to. Let's see how well those senses work. with a wry smirk, she faced the door and jerked the latch and swung it open with a loud thunk, letting the snow billow inside. She heard Brandon sprint into the doorway after her, but she had already disappeared into the night outside.

---

Lyanna

"Damnit!" Brandon griped, walking outside. "She's gone."

Lyanna hurriedly made her way to his side, shocked beyond words. The Dragonborn had given them the slip. She looked to her brother who was rubbing his forehead in displeasure. Or was it relief? He was never one for games, always direct and determined to get what he wanted. He hated being vexed, yet someone did just that, and there was nothing he could do. Any other person, and he would have gone for his ridiculously sharp sword, even a Targaryen. He was just hotheaded that way, with the wolf's blood, much like she was.

"Not one sound." Brandon remarked. "Nothing. Until she slammed open the door."

"You saw her." It wasn't a question. Lyanna could see it in his face.

"Aye." Brandon said. "Like a dark ghost with a pair of glowing rubies for eyes. She looked right at me." He sighed, but Lyanna could see a slight shake to his shoulders when he did.

"That's what I saw." Benjen repeated.

"I didn't." Lyanna said. "I saw her completely, fully dressed in all-black garments that seemed to shine even in the dark." But Alycia Aldmeri didn't have those clothes when they brought her inside Winterfell. She was wearing a set of leather armor. Well, at least it looked like leather, but it turned out to be much stronger. The smiths say it was as hard as dragon scales, and Maester Walys confirmed it. But he has kept it in his turret ever since, studying it, along with her crown and jewelry. Why, Lyanna did not know. Maybe they had magic.

"How come you saw her fully when we only saw a shade?" Brandon asked.

That was something she wondered herself. How could she? She thought back to the moment she noticed that bard and found herself able to recall certain details that neither Benjen nor Brandon could. Benjen could only remember the bard but not what she looked like, much less the fact that it was a woman. Brandon couldn't remember her at all. "Magic." she muttered.

"What was that?"

"Magic?" Lyanna trailed off. Brandon just stared at her. "Alright, how about this? Do you remember the bard from this morning, brother?"

Brandon looked away with a thoughtful look in his eyes. "Wait. I do! She never came from Winter Town, she entered from the North Gate."

"And she also said she was from Tamriel!" Benjen added.

"Son of a bitch." Brandon cursed. "Why couldn't we remember?"

"Magic." Lyanna shrugged.

"Magic." Brandon repeated, trying the word for the first time. "That is… terrifying."

Indeed, all day everyone in the castle has been under a spell. A spell that clouded their minds, deciding what they could remember, and what they could see. They still were in a sense. As for the Starks, though, somehow, Lyanna thought, they were able to shake it off. Or were they simply now being allowed to? Lyanna knew of the games played in the south. Intrigue in courts, especially in King's Landing, where members of the nobility, especially the great houses, would use any means at their disposal to increase the strength of their families. Words were just as deadly as swords. But what if someone brought magic to the board? I wonder if that's how it's done where she's from. Maybe that's why it was frightening, to not be able to tell when you were being manipulated through means that elude your understanding. But why even go through all the trouble?

Looking around, she saw nothing except a dark night fluttered with a spring snow, the courtyard swamped with guards, castellans, and men-at-arms of the visiting bannermen, walking in multiple directions, some headed for the stables, others towards the old keep, the guesthouse; all searching for the same person. She was happy to see they were listening to what she had said at least. Well, most of them, some were storming around like the oafs she knew them to be, ready to pounce on the woman that made them feel very small in the world. Everyone was doing as they were ordered, save for that one woman leaning against—Lyanna gasped.

"Lya?"

Her eyes were fixed on the dark figure casually leaning against the wall across from them. Brandon and Benjen followed her gaze and found themselves transfixed as well. Lyanna could make out the shine of those black vestments, the hood and cowl obscuring the Dragonborn's face in darkness, but those red red eyes bore into her with a certain playfulness. Alycia Aldmeri then raised a finger to her cowl, before moving off into the darkness, sidestepping past guards and servants that ran in every direction, a few coming close, but never taking notice of the figure, like she wasn't even there. The corners of Lyanna's lips caved into tiny dimples. This may not be how she imagined it would go, but she never felt this excited in a long time. "She wants us to follow."

"You're mad." Benjen gulped. "She's playing with us."

"We should tell father." Brandon agreed.

"I think we should follow." Lyanna repeated, taking off in the direction the Dragonborn went.

"Lya!" Her brothers started behind her. "Unbelievable…" Brandon grumbled.

The Stark siblings trailed the Dragonborn as she moved through all the nooks and crannies, making the shadows around her darker and not making a single sound. So far it looked like only the Starks could perceive the Dragonborn, while everyone else remained completely oblivious and kept milling about. None took notice of the wolves of Winterfell either. Lyanna noticed this when she almost bumped into the lumbering Jon Umber only for him to avoid her altogether. The conversations regarding the search ranged from being about her recent tirade earlier, to rather odd remarks about the Dragonborn's appearance, and that was just the smallfolk. It was interesting to hear them imagine that Alycia was half a dragon, maybe even having a tail. Others believed that she could turn into a dragon herself or spoke of her having the face of an angel. Lyanna snickered. It wouldn't be long before they started lining up.

"You're enjoying this." Benjen teased.

"Hard not to."

"Have you figured out what you want to ask her?"

"Not really."

"How about we wait until after father has spoken with her before peppering her with questions." Brandon interrupted.

Lyanna glanced at him, "Oh? You have questions too?"

"More or less." Brandon answered. "I'm curious about her sword-arm."

"Of course it would be her skill with a blade." Benjen chuckled.

They passed by the lichyard under the shadow of the old keep. Nowhere near as a large as the one they lived in now, the smaller, drum shaped building was no less imposing. A few of the guards Brandon had directed earlier could be seen still rummaging around it. She could see a few lights from torches moving past the windows, meaning they were also still searching inside the ancient structure.

"Why not? It's been a while since I've had a good spar." Brandon boasted.

Well, he's not lying. Lyanna nodded. He was the best of them at Winterfell. Whenever he wasn't out riding, Brandon was either sparring with Rodrik and Tarik or sharpening his sword. Also bloodied, unlike most young men these days. Lyanna recalled a few minor skirmishes he had gotten into with Wildlings who snuck past the Wall and raided a few villages last year. He had every intention of competing in the upcoming tourney, where most of the bloodied would be doing as well. It made sense for him to want to test himself against someone like Alycia Aldmeri.

"What's her skill like anyways, Lya?" He asked. "Any titles?"

Lyanna laughed. "Too many to name. Personally, I think she could take on the Kingsguard with one hand tied behind her back."

"Well, that's not fair." A voice interrupted.

Lyanna froze mid-step. As did her brothers.

"I don't even know their names yet, much less what they've done." The voice continued. "Besides, I've never really cared for boasting. I've always preferred to let my actions speak for themselves."

They looked around for the source, but the voice seemed to come from all around them. Brandon was about to call for the guards in the lichyard, but they had all disappeared, moving to another area and leaving them alone. There was a fog gathered at their feet, made brighter by the snowfall. Where did this even come from? Lyanna breathed, but stayed her tongue, Brandon taking the initiative.

"Dragonborn…" he hesitated. "Why do you hide from us? We mean you no harm."

"And I believe you." She replied. She spoke with a very alluring voice. Silvery but commanding, like the sweetness of Arbor wine mixed with the heat of fire. "But when you live as long as I do, you'll learn that first impressions are important, and my embarrassing stunt a few nights ago has put me in an interesting situation." Lyanna gasped when the Dragonborn suddenly emerged from a shadowed wall beside them. "So, I am, as they say, flipping the board." All three Starks stumbled backwards, Benjen falling on his bottom. Alycia made a light giggle, it was soft and innocent, then stepped forward and offered a gloved hand, which Benjen hesitantly took, letting her pull him to his feet. "Sorry about that. This land is very new to me, and I was curious. I've never been able to stay in one place for long, even if requested to, my mind's always wandering. Also, I try make the impression that I am not to be trifled with."

"Why?" Brandon asked.

Alycia shrugged, "Power. When you wield this kind of power, just about everybody you meet will try everything and anything to bind themselves to it, and I have seen and heard them all: marriage proposals, land titles, soldiers, gold, things any other person would kill for."

"But you have no need of them?" Benjen blurted.

The Dragonborn shook her head, "Dragons were made to dominate. The desire to conquer and rule is in our nature, but I chose my own path."

She removed her hood and cowl, revealing her blood red hair tied in a bun along with her pale heart-shaped face, her pointed ears standing out more fully. She held out her hand, "Alycia Aldmeri… but you already knew that." A friendly smile formed on her lips, "You may call me Starlight." Starlight, Lyanna thought. because of the comet. Alinor's Comet was a burning star that appeared over the skies of Tamriel early in the reign of Aegon the Dragonbane. It is said Alycia was born amidst the most powerful thundersnow to ever hit the Summerset Isles at the height of the worst winter Tamriel had seen in over two thousand years, the wrath of one of their gods, Kynareth. The moment Alycia was pulled from her mother's womb, the storm ended in the blink of an eye, the clouds parting to reveal a purple comet burning across the sky, its light shining upon the city palace. The name Starlight was given to her because of it.

Her brother grasped her hand, "Brandon Stark. Son of Rickard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, and Warden of the North." He firmly shook it, though it seemed more like Alycia was doing the shaking. Lyanna fought really hard to resist the urge to laugh. Under normal circumstances, Brandon would have brought her hand to his lips and kissed it, then proceed to try and seduce her. That wouldn't go over well… and I would pay a stack of silver to see it. Brandon then gestured to her and Benjen, "This is my sister, Lyanna, and my brother Benjen."

"A pleasure." Alycia held out her hand to Lyanna. She felt heat rush to her cheeks as she took it. They felt soft and delicate but with a calloused layer, like a man's but the same size as her own.

"W-why reveal yourself to us?" Lyanna finally spoke. Wake up stupid! First impressions are important!

"I think you've already figured that one out yourself, child." The Dragonborn folded her arms over her bust. "Perhaps you can also explain why you know so much about me."

The blush on her face deepened as her brothers snickered. Through pure reaction she stomped on Brandon's foot and elbowed Benjen, eliciting simultaneous grunts. "I-I've read about some of your tales…"

"You mean obsess over them…" Brandon teased favoring his left foot.

"…that's for damn sure…" Benjen mumbled, rubbing his ribs.

Lyanna spun at them. "Would you two give it a rest?"

"Okay, okay." They held up their hands in mock surrender, though those teasing smirks refused to abate. It wasn't ridicule, she knew, they were just laughing at her enthusiasm. Turning back to the Dragonborn, Lyanna was about to explain when Alycia spoke again.

"You've read Dexion's work, haven't you?"

"Yes." Lyanna answered immediately. Almost religiously, but she wasn't going to mention that. She fidgeted with her fingers. "Also, a few songs as well, including the one when you fought the dragon Alduin, the World-Eater."

Alycia chuckled. "Yes, that one came around no more than a moon after his defeat. The original claimed that I fought and defeated the stubborn bastard alone. I didn't like that, so I asked the Bards College to rewrite it to include the three ancient Nordic heroes who aided me."

"But it's true, isn't it?" Lyanna felt herself light up. "That you killed Alduin?"

Alycia solemnly shook her head, "No. I did not kill him. Defeated him, yes. But killed? No. Alduin was not normal even by dovah standards."

"What do you mean?" Benjen asked.

"I mean that Alduin's title of World-Eater is supposed to be taken literally."

Lyanna was not sure what that meant, but she didn't get a chance to ask before the Dragonborn spoke again. "Anyways," Alycia circled around them, completely forgetting the topic, "it's getting late, and my friend is waiting for me in that walled forest. What was it called? Godswood?"

"Friend?" Brandon asked.

"The bard." Lyanna realized.

"Don't call her that." Alycia snorted. "She hates that name, even though she has a great voice." She turned on her heel and walked forward, glancing back at them, "Also, you should get your lord father, and his lieges. It's time we talked." She put her hood and cowl back on, "One last thing, just to let you know so it doesn't cause an even bigger uproar, I will be calling Zosiilviing back here, and my friend will do the same with Odahviing." Lyanna's eyes widened like dinner plates. "Make sure your father knows that." With that she stepped back into the shadows and vanished.

"We should still follow her." Benjen suggested. "She is heading to the godswood, right?"

"Your right." Brandon agreed. He tapped Benjen on his shoulder. "Head back to the keep and find father. Tell him to get everyone to the godswood. Lya and I will head there now."

Benjen seemed let down by Brandon's order but quickly shook it off and nodded, jogging back towards the keep. Lyanna remained rooted in place as she stared in awe in the direction the Dragonborn went. But it wasn't just meeting the Dragonborn that shocked her so, it was her last statement.

"Lya?" Brandon nudged her to bring her back. She blinked once before shaking her head lightly and started after Alycia, he trailed behind her.

"Odahviing?" He asked as he caught up with her. Lyanna said nothing at first, the two of them continuing past the old keep and towards the North Gate, towards one of the entrances into the godswood, where the Dragonborn is no doubt heading. But within Lyanna's mind was a whirlwind of images as she imagined every dragon she had ever read about.

Zosiilviing, a Blue-Eyes White Dragon, was the first and without a doubt, the largest dragon she had or will ever see, but despite her incredible size, she could still be considered young, barely over a hundred and twenty, and may grow still; Balerion the Dread was known most for the burning of Harrenhal; Alduin the World Eater, believed to have been a god incarnate; Meleys, the Red Queen, swift and deadly; Caraxes, monstrous and powerful, and that was the dragon that came to mind most as she tried to imagine the one Alycia had mentioned. Only, he was far older, and leagues beyond the mount of the rogue prince.

As they stood before one of the smaller wooden gates that led into the godswood, the door slightly ajar, evidence that Alycia had already entered, Lyanna breathed her answer.

"Snow Hunter Wing. The Crimson Fury of Hew's Bane…"

---

Alycia

Entering the walled forest, Alycia felt as if she had stepped into an entirely new world. It was dense; it was massive; it was untouched, as if the walls and castle built around it no longer existed. No longer feeling the need, she shed her shadow magic, the shades made by the trees returning to their original contrast. The snowfall had ceased, leaving behind a thin snow sheet on top of the green grass, pocked with varying colors of leaves from oaks, elms, chestnuts, and the like, but also some she did not recognize, most likely native to this land. She looked up to see the clouds begin to part, revealing Masser and Secunda, their light beaming down on her, and giving her Nightingale vestments a glimmering sheen. She removed her hood and cowl, untying the bun and let her hair cascade to her shoulders. A calm wind would blow by and rustle it as the moonlight glistened her skin like a mother's kisses, even though Alycia did not remember the woman who would have given them to her. She took a long breath, and exhaled, feeling relaxed as she wandered around. There was a certain magnificence to these woods that Alycia would dare say she only experienced a few times in her travels. Places like the Forgotten Vale, the Ebon Stadmont, and the Stone Towers of Alioth, to name a few, came to mind. Each place had an undercurrent of magic running through them, and this place was no different. There was presence here, ancient and faint like rustling leaves in autumn. Naturally, the Dragonborn decided to reach out with her own, focusing her senses until she could see the invisible range, and the vast differences in power were readily apparent; the presence was like a tranquil lake of water that she was walking upon, only her own presence was more akin to an incoming storm, leading her to cease the contact for fear of damaging it.

It's much stronger than you think, Aly. More like an impenetrable wall of the same metal Andúril is made of. But it's so old, it may not even remember its own name yet still gives that illusion of weakness. It's really strange.

What do you think it is?

Hell if I know. I'm old, not ancient. We'd have to ask the old dragon.

But you're at the source?

Yes. The very center.

Her elven ears picked up the sound of a crushed leaves coming from behind indicating that at least two of the Stark children were still tailing her, so she continued toward the center of the godswood, glancing over her shoulder to see that it was the elder two, Brandon and Lyanna. She regarded them and kept walking as they maintained a short distance behind. They spoke in hushed whispers, but her elven ears still picked up their conversation.

"One dragon was bad enough, Lya." Brandon complained. "Two will cause an uproar."

"I think," Lyanna retorted, "that's exactly what they want."

"And who is this friend of hers anyways?"

"I have an inkling. Nothing certain since most, if not all of her companions from a hundred years ago are dead."

"Hmm." Alycia sighed. It was true, and that was the hardest reality of her life. Unfortunately for them, most did not live to see their elder years, dying in the Second Dominion War. Sometimes, she would see their red splotched faces in her sleep: Aela, Vex, Mjoll, Erik, Jenessa, Hadvar, Illia, Agmaer, Daena, and Jason; all dead because of her father's ruthless ambition. "Hmm." Even if the war did not happen, most of them would have still died from age, and some already have. It left Alycia wondering for years about how long Jason would have had if things had gone differently. Would he have even made it to an elderly age? He was Harbinger of Companions at only twenty-one, and it was a dangerous life to begin with. If the war never had happened, or at least not the way it did, would she had been forced to watch him literally decay before her? Or would she have aged with him? Alycia was one-hundred and forty-eight years old yet looked no older than a woman in her mid-twenties. An elf's lifespan, even a half-breed's, was never certain, but could be exceedingly long, depending on the individual. The oldest elf she had ever met was the Snow Elf Gelebor, still keeping his millennia old vigil over the Chantry of Auri-El; Barenziah was young when Tiber Septim conquered Tamriel, and only now were the wrinkles developing, outliving most of her children.

What if Alycia had children? Would she have had to...? No. She refused to entertain that line of thought. A hand reflexively went to her lower belly, tracing the scars. All that came to mind now was that dagger she foolishly helped assemble. Her father's love, overtaken by dishonor. Ironic. "Hmm…" At the very end of that canvas of thought came the very night that blue-streaked, snow white egg hatched.

Regardless, the last of her mortal friends passed away some years ago. She had visited Lydia for the last time, forty years ago. She had become a frail old lady on her deathbed, well over a hundred-years-old, surrounded by the family she started, with Alycia, still looking exactly as she did when they first met in Dragonsreach, standing at her bedside. She noticed a bush that had roses growing out of them, all of them the color of frost. She stopped for a moment to admire them. "To be your housecarl was my life's honor. I did the best I could, didn't I, my lady?" Lydia had said. Alycia plucked one of the roses and brought it to her nose, sniffing as she imagined her housecarl being led by Tsun into the Hall of Valor, Ysgramor, Kodlak, and Jason, welcoming her with open arms. Yes, my friend. You did.

"They're called winter roses."

Alycia regarded Lyanna, who was now standing beside her.

"They're extremely rare, but we grow them in the glass gardens here. You're looking at one of the few blooming bushes within a thousand miles."

Alycia raised an eyebrow, examining the rose she plucked, "They're beautiful; this place is beautiful."

"This godswood has stood for thousands of years." Brandon explained coming up behind Lyanna. "Our ancestors built Winterfell around it when they first became the Kings of Winter. The Heart Tree has been here since before the First Men."

Brandon would have said more, but all fell silent when they heard the faint strums of a lute's strings. Alycia smiled, tucking the winter rose she had plucked under her belt and continued toward its source.

She was lucky to have one friend that didn't have to very much worry about her potentially long lifespan.

The tune being played was one she had learned long ago, an ode to the tales of Skyrim. Alycia and the two Stark children followed the music to the center of the woods, finding a large weirwood tree before a pool of black water. Fascinating, weirwoods had no presence in Tamriel, though some have considered the Eldergleam to be one, which itself is a colossal and incredibly old tree, though its own leaves were a pale lilac instead the usual blood red. Weirwoods were more or less an uncommon sight in Akavir, some having sets of stones lined in spiral patterns with the trees themselves at the epicenter. None of them had faces carved into them like this one though, having streams of red sap seeping out of its 'eyes,' giving the impression that it was weeping. Whether from joy or despair, she could not say.

Sitting below the tree's face was a woman wearing a long hooded black cloak, Andúril lying on the grass before her, surrounded by the five-pointed red leaves of the weirwood. Just as Alycia was about to speak, that feathery voice began:

Brave the snow through the pillars of the pale

Rest your feet, come and listen to the tales

Raise your mug to the legends of the frost

Through our songs, they will never be lost

Alycia closed her eyes for a brief moment, smiling, then took a knee at the edge of the pool opposite of the woman. Lyanna and Brandon came to a stop a few steps behind her. She couldn't see their faces, but she could imagine their shock. Without missing a beat, she joined in:

Tales that will never be lost;

kept in the legends of the frost

Kruziik Ahkrin, Haalvut Lok; Oblaan Qostiid, Rein Norok

Briinah Bruniik, Sahrot Vahdin; Zeymah Mul, Kendov Krin

Tales that will never be lost; kept in the legends of the frost

Once and always a part of history; long remembered warriors be

Distant thunder echoes of the past; through our voices forever to last

So, raise your mug to the legends of the frost; through our songs, they will never be lost

Raise your mug to the legends of the frost; through our songs, they will never be lost

Kruziik, Ahkriin! Oblaan, Qostiid!*

The song ended. The woods stood silent, so dense that the only thing to break the silence was a crow that came to rest on one of the weirwood's branches. Alycia spared it a single glance, though the bird remained fixed on her with interest.

Alycia smiled. "Good choice. Fitting as well, considering the history this place seems to exude."

The lute disintegrated from the woman's hands as she pushed back her hood, revealing a full head of midnight black hair that fell slightly past her shoulders, the dreads she once wore undone some decades ago. Her pale skin appeared translucent beneath the moonlight, far more than even Alycia's, highlighting her dark mascara, and accentuating her otherworldly nature.

Serana Volkihar fixed Alycia with a playful smile that reached her ice blue eyes, made brighter by the black color of their sclera.* "I've been getting that feeling since I came to this land." She sniffed the air deeply. "This place, it feels… alive, primordial. I can sense the presence of everyone who has ever walked among these trees, as if their footprints are still preserved in the soil, and still, I feel something older, waiting, observing."

"It does feel ancient." Alycia agreed. "That's what got you in the mood to sing?"

"Hmph." Serana chuckled. "More or less, if only because it's true. People come and go like the snowfalls during the winters; time itself is an endless gale that blows those white winds, burying the old so that the new can rise, and hopefully, build something better. It's only the stories left behind that stand strong against the gales of time." She tilted her head, "At least that's what I like to think the song is about."

"I would say that it is a fair assessment." Alycia said. "But what about those who can fly with that gale?"

Serana rose to her feet, lifting her cloak behind her shoulders, revealing her all-black leather armor that snug tightly to her curves, the corset revealing her cleavage. The golden katana, Goldbrand was clipped to her belt, hanging from her left hip. "I didn't say our stories were finished, yet." She said, then inclined her head towards Andúril. "I'm pretty sure your sword would agree, too."

Alycia held out her left hand, and Andúril immediately levitated from where laid, swiftly flying into her grasp. She felt a sudden warmth coursing through her fingers, her palm, and her arm; the Light of Aetherius was back where it belonged.

"Try not to lose it again." Serana grinned, revealing her fangs." Here it comes. However, Serana never got the chance, for they were interrupted by the spontaneous reaction of a certain admirer.

"Holy Seven Hells!" came a barely contained whisper.

Even if it was a true whisper, Alycia and Serana still would have heard it. The two warriors turned their attention to Lyanna Stark who once again stood awestruck.

Serana just laughed, "She's quite the admirer, isn't she?" She then cocked her head at Brandon, "And this one likes to 'hone' his sword with a net of words that would make any woman swoon. Tried to use it on me this morning." Alycia rolled her eyes in mirth. No matter where she went, Serana always wore sarcasm on her sleeve.

Brandon looked like he wanted to reply, but his stupefied eyes remained fixed on Serana's vampiric features. If she has been here since early in the morn, she has kept an illusion to hide them. A few brief moments, and he regained his composure, "If I had known about…" He articulated towards his own eyes and mouth. "those… the thought would never have crossed my mind… my lady."

Serana feigned sadness, "Aww. The young wolf thinks I'm a monster."

"Not a monster." Lyanna cut in. "Just a vampire. A powerful vampire."

"Heh." Serana huffed. "I like you."

"You're Serana Volkihar, the Last Daughter of Coldharbour."

"Close, but no." Serana corrected. "Mother is still alive; she just prefers to stay out of sight."

"I do know of vampires." Brandon stated, "But Daughter of Coldharbour?"

"It means pure-blooded vampire." Serana quickly answered. "And that's all you need to know."

Lyanna looked at Goldbrand, "Is that—"

"You just know everything don't you?" Serana quipped, resting her left hand on the hilt. "Yes, it is. I—"

Caw!

They were interrupted by the crow that arrived earlier, still in its perch on the weirwood. Alycia regarded with more scrutiny this time. Its gaze had not left her. She decided to ping it. It's not polite to stare, you know. The bird squawked and flew off. She wasn't sure of the intelligence behind the bird, but for some reason, she still felt its gaze. I'll have to ask about them later.

You and me both. Serana chimed.

Brandon ran his hands through his hair. "Alright. This has been a long night. A long three days to be honest. I would much prefer less surprises until our father gets here."

Alycia had to agree, even though she slept through most of it, and it would not be long before their father and his lieges showed up. Then she and Serana would have to explain, well, everything. A conversation she was not looking forward to, but it would have to be done, if only to allay suspicion, but somehow, she felt it would not go away completely. This was after all, new for them, just as it was for her. It would be easy to just settle things, take the chest and head home, but there was a reason the dream sent her here, and she would find out what it was.

"Just answer me this." Brandon demanded. "Are you really bringing a second dragon?"

Alycia only gave him an apologetic smile.

"Fuck."

The next few minutes passed in relative silence, Alycia taking a seat on the spot Serana originally occupied below the weirwood's 'face' while the vampire leaned against the trunk beside her. Lyanna identified it as a heart tree, which distinguished it from regular weirwoods. She had taken a seat opposite of Serana on a large stone jutting against the pool of dark water. She was the only one who initiated any small conversation, recounting to her what had happened immediately after she killed the Daedric Titan and Lyanna charged out into the open just to see if it really was her, directly leading to a stand-off between Zosiilviing and Lord Rickard and his soldiers, but she had managed to defuse it, which led to them bringing Alycia into the castle and the maester looking over her wounds, him and two other healers being responsible for the bandages earlier. Lyanna also mentioned Zos ripping the Titan's gut open and pulling out the ebony chest she had been after, turning it over to the Starks to take it inside, never attempt to open it, and guard it with their lives along with Andúril, much to their consternation, and then unleashed her fiery wrath upon the carcass, turning it to ash.

Lyanna also explained where all of her information came from: Tamrielic books of history, magic, and songs, all of them acquired over the years by the castle's maesters who showed a small interest before dismissing them altogether but kept the books stored and well cared for in Winterfell's library tower. "As they should." Serana had said. Books, even the ridiculous kind, were considered sacred and priceless by the intellectuals of Westeros and Essos, given the time and resources put into writing them, originals, and copies alike. Back home, it wasn't exactly an enormous issue, save for spell tomes, which could potentially cost a small fortune. It came as no surprise that not even a novice fire tome ended up in this castle, otherwise Lyanna would have read it and learned it completely by accident.

"Hmm." Alycia grunted, considering the possibility of other families and these maesters possessing one or two. According to Brandon and Lyanna, each of the Westerosi lords had at least one maester in their service, usually in their castles. If a lord does not have one, it is because he is seen as inconsequential. Given that they are the scholarly authority this side of the world, it would make sense for them to come across at least one spell tome in their lifetime. But if that were the case, why is magic so foreign and suspect? Lyanna also mentioned that they frequently disputed claims of magic and dragon sightings beyond Westeros, claiming that all of the knowledge died with the Doom of Valyria, and the last dragon died over a century and a half ago.

"That's around the same time Alduin reappeared." Serana remarked. "Isn't that right, Aly?"

Alycia shrugged, "Could be a coincidence."

"Speaking of Valyria," the vampire switched topics, "did you find what that dream kept showing you?"

Alycia shrugged again. "Sort of. The damn titan made off with it, leading Zosiilviing and I on that bloody chase."

"Oh really?" Serana snorted. "I guess you should have let me come after all." Damn it.

"Do we really need to do this now?" Alycia moaned.

"No, not yet anyways." The look in her eyes was clear. She was not happy, and there would be words later.

Alycia sighed, glancing at Lyanna, who appeared to have wanted to ask about Valyria, but now seemed uncertain as she looked between her and Serana. "You'll have your answers in due time, child." Lyanna opened her mouth to respond but said nothing, only nodding in understanding.

"They're here." Brandon announced.

Alycia and Lyanna rose to their feet as several torches came into view, Serana coming off the tree and coming to a stand a few steps ahead of her, resting a hand on Goldbrand. There were many men, most of them armed and carried themselves the way nobles always do. With them were their own soldiers bearing various sigils such as a white sun, a black bear, a white tree, the most prominent was the gray wolf, which Brandon had stated was a direwolf, the sigil of House Stark, and it took the center of the approaching lords.

The man who led them looked like a much older version of Brandon; a long and stern, grey eyed face with dark brown shoulder length hair and a full beard, both streaked with silver. He wore a black leather doublet with grey silks and furs with a large cloak tied around his chest and black trousers and boots. There was a longsword hanging from his belt, but another man beside him carried an even longer, two-handed greatsword, roughly the same length as Andúril. Alycia assumed it to be much heavier. The younger boy, Benjen stood to his right, trepidation in his steps, more so when he took notice of Serana. They all did in fact. The man to the left of Lord Stark was much older, dressed in long dark grey robes, not unlike a monk of sorts. Around his neck was a chain made of various metals. He held a scholarly air about him. So that's a maester. He was also carrying a small wooden box that her elven blood picked up a very familiar magic signature.

As the Westerosi came to a stop, she came forward, stopping at the edge of the pond. On instinct, she threw out her hand, summoning the box to her. The gathered crowd gasped in as it levitated before her and opened on its own, revealing her rings and crown. The rings immediately went to her fingers, their enchantments surging into her, but the crown she held with her hands, the large ruby in the center glowing dimly, accented by the onyx gems flanking it. She stared at it for a few moments as she thought of the woman it once belonged to before several strands of her hair flared upwards, allowing her to place the circlet on her head with those strands overlapping it. Secured, she looked up at the Stark elder.

"Rickard Stark, I presume. Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. You look the part."

Rickard only grunted, studying her for a few moments before speaking. "Claris informed me that you were awake." He had quite the stern voice, commanding and demanding of respect, but there was a quiet dignity to it as well, like a brooding wolf. How fitting. "I'm sure your dragon will be glad to know that."

Alycia chuckled, "She didn't make any outrageous threats, did she?" Silence. She shook her head in mirth, "She does that. Am I to assume your son gave you my message?"

Lord Stark nodded. "He did. Though I fail to see the reasoning behind the lengths you have gone."

Alycia locked eyes with Serana, who only gave a devious smile. That dragon came out of the mountain's mouth a long time ago.

"You're all going to want to cover your ears for this." Serana warned. "I'm very serious, do it." They were confused.

"Unless you want your ears to bleed." Lyanna called out. "You'll do as she says… my lords."

They complied this time. At least they were willing to take the girl's word for it. Alycia took a deep breath, a sudden wind surging towards her and her vampiric friend who had done the same. "Because my lord…" she began, the earth shuddering at the sound of her Voice, her red eyes glowing with ancient power. The Westerosi took an instinctive step back.

"ZOSIILVIING!"

"OD… AH VIING!"

The earth rumbled in response as the power of their combined Voices roared through the skies, the air carrying a thundering CLAP! as the forests were filled with the brief flash of white light. A handful of Lord Stark's bannermen fell backwards into a heap since they were not prepared for the resounding Thu'um. Not a moment later, two more resounding claps came, echoing the word, "WULD!" the duality of the two Voices heard clear. Then came the flapping of wings and asserting roars that announced their presence and dominance to the castle below.

GRUOOOOAAAAARRRRRHHHHK!

BOOOOOOAAAAAARRK!

Odahviing came down first. His ruby red scales, streaked with silver, shined beneath the nightlight, highlighting his onyx-colored eyes. The Westerosi lords nearly scattered in panic as he did, some going as far as to draw their weapons, only to be shouted down by the more levelheaded. While much smaller than Zosiilviing, his size still required him to be careful in his landing, retracting his wings as soon as his talons touched the ground. Orienting himself, he bowed before Alycia, "Hail, Dovahkiin thuri."

Alycia nodded, "Kul wah korav hei rem fahdon."

Odahviing raised his carriage-sized head before looking up towards Zosiilviing, who landed opposite of him, craning her longer neck to peer over the trees. The moonlight shimmered her white scales, the massive dragon breathing a quaking growl and bared her teeth.

"…first impressions are important." Alycia smiled confidently.

---

"That went better than I expected."

Alycia giggled. "What did you expect?"

"More aggression?" Serana mused.

Alycia laughed. "We just went through aggressive negotiations, and you were expecting more aggression?"

They spent quite a few hours conversing with the Westerosi, who liked to refer to themselves as 'northerners' or 'First Men,' to distinguish themselves from 'the southrons.' They answered whatever questions they had concerning who they really were—a rather obvious answer: Alycia Starlight of the Royal House of Aldmeri, and Serana of Clan Volkihar. Their primary concern though, were the dragons, and why they had come so far to their side of the world, much of it confusing the blazes out of them. They asked questions of their own as well, of the Starks of Winterfell, the region they liked to call 'the North,' along with a brief history of Westeros since the Dance of the Dragons, the civil war Nettles escaped from. She also learned that Lord Rickard had another son, Eddard, who was currently living as a ward to a Jon Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie, the castle built on the summit of the tallest peak of the mountain range she and Zos had chased the Titan over. It was doubtless that he had witnessed the battle as well.

Inevitably, it was made perfectly clear that neither the Starks, nor their lieges, could force them to do anything. Zosiilviing and Odahviing baring their rows of sword-length teeth and growling insults in Dovahzul to throw them off their game was enough to convince them of that.

"I doubt there was for them to be aggressive towards." Lyanna chimed in. "It's impossible to do that with two huge dragons staring you down." That and the Targaryens in the south would be learning that soon enough, given that Alycia also agreed to accompany the Stark children south to a castle called Harrenhal for a grand tourney, much to Serana's chagrin.

"Zos, mentioned that she stared you down." Serana jabbed.

"Which reminds me." Alycia glanced at Lyanna. "Thank you for that." Referring to when Lyanna had instinctively used her cloak to slow her bleeding. Zosiilviing had been grateful as well.

"Y-you're welcome, Starlight." Lyanna quickly replied. Benjen snickered besides, leading to the girl elbowing him.

"Ow!"

The Starks of Winterfell were leading them into the lower levels of Winterfell's keep, towards their family vault, where Lord Rickard had the Valyrian chest and Andúril (before Serana stole it of course) cordoned off, per Zosiilviing's request. The white dragon was now roosting outside the castle along with Odahviing. The northerners ogled them as much as the people of Essos, and some still leered at Alycia and Serana, then mostly at Alycia when Serana bared her fangs. Men. she thought. Then there were the suspicious ones. "What's the difference between you and the Targaryens?" An older, gray bearded lord asked. He was a giant of a man; proud and boisterous, traits his son shared, but more tempered than him. "The Dovahkiin," Odahviing spoke before she could. "carries more than just the dragon blood. Each carries a dragon soul of their own. Dovahkiin in your tongue means dragon hunter."

"Which means they're really good at killing dragons." Serana clarified. "But rarely is there ever more than one."

"I can speak for myself you know." Alycia stared at the two. She found it more difficult to explain these matters than in Essos, where there was still magic practiced in some way, shape, or form. Here however, its not that they didn't believe it never existed, more that it no longer exists. If only. Alycia thought. Then again, none of us would be here.

Winterfell's keep seemed to have two sublevels, primarily for storage for things like grain and other nonperishables. Lord Stark mentioned they several storage areas around the castle, always ready for the winter. Alycia would know because the Nords do the same (as did she), valuing food, water, furs, and firs, more than jewels and gold due to the harsh winters they endured. I wonder if they're related in some way. The Nords and these 'First Men.' Of course, just because they placed more value on survival necessities over trinkets and heirlooms did not mean they did not keep them, hence the large, sturdy iron door they now stood before down a well-lit hallway. It was flanked by six guards. All of them bowed as the Starks passed but stared at Alycia and Serana with suspicion.

"Hey, boys." Serana snickered. They blushed and tried not to meet her eyes; one of them was staring at her exposed bust.

Alycia leaned into her ear. "I'm guessing these are the same men you got passed to get inside?"

"It was easy."

"But why?"

"I wasn't sure about trusting them with it." The vampire claimed. "Even if they meant no harm. You know how I am."

You mean overbearing at times? had been what she wanted to say, but Alycia merely grunted. She could tell Serana still wanted to yell at her, but she stayed her words.

"Lady Serana?" Brandon interrupted. "If you would…" he gestured toward the vault.

"Oh!" the vampire jumped, producing a large, well kept, iron key, which the elder Stark child took and handed to his father. "Sorry. Won't happen again."

Alycia snorted. They seemed awfully calm about it, given their sense of honor, to the point of nausea. She was not the most concerned when it came to honor, which in her experience, can be hinder people, or worse, destroy them. She hoped it would not be the latter for them.

Lord Stark inserted the key into a large hole in the door's center and turned in a complete circle, the sounds of multiple locks uncinching themselves. He then pulled on the lever on the left side once, and the door unhinged, opening to reveal a sizable room fit for a vault. When they stepped inside, Alycia was proven right. They did keep their own wealth, though it was much smaller than what she was accustomed to seeing, but they did have it. She had to assume it was their name that commanded respect and honor, not monetary numbers. There were stacks of silver and gold here and there, old artifacts and mementos, none of it really concerning her.

What really concerned her sat on a table in the center. Ornate, runed, ancient, black as night, and glossed like the moonlight on a lake. The Valyrian lockbox was large enough to fit a child of ten. Long enough to fit in an Elder Scroll, and whatever else Sheogorath mentioned.

"So, this is what caused so much trouble?" Serana mused.

"What's in it?" Benjen asked.

"That's what I'm here to find out." Alycia answered.

"Maester Walys did look at it before it was brought down here, though. Not that he tried to open it, mind you." Lyanna explained. The old maester seemed nosy, since he also studied Andúril, her armor, her rings, and her circlet. Maybe Serana's concern is warranted. "But he did say the lock was unlike any he had ever seen."

"Well, of course not, I took a look at it when I nicked Andúril." Serana agreed. "It's a blood seal."

"Blood seal?" Lord Stark raised an eyebrow.

"It means it requires a drop of blood or two." Alycia explained. "What kind? I'm guessing dragon blood."

"Which you have." Serana concluded.

"The Valyrians were known for practicing blood magic." Lord Stark mused. "Some members of the Faith claim that it angered their gods and they punished them for it."

"The gods don't care about what magic we practice." Alycia retorted. "Magic is magic; it is neither good nor evil. So long as their will is done, gods care little about how you worship them."

"You say that as if you have spoken to them."

Alycia and Serana just stared at Rickard. "Let's not get into that." Alycia trailed. You don't want to fucking know. You really don't. The Lord of Winterfell to his credit merely nodded.

"So, if it's a, what, 'Blood seal?" Brandon scratched the back of his head. "How would you go about opening it?"

Alycia walked up to the elevated chest, examining it. It was different than the ones she was familiar with, where she had to place her hand first, and a blasted spike would spring through her palm to draw blood. She was thankful for that at least. Instead, this blood seal was more like a cup; draw the blood first, then pour. The real question was how much.

"Simple." She answered, removing the glove around her right hand, revealing her Mark. She held it out for Serana to cut with a dagger. It was not particularly deep, but enough for her squeeze out enough blood to pour. Making a fist, she held over the 'mouth' of the lock, letting the blood seep out. She watched it travel through the linings, filling them with a crimson hue that glowed as it reached the 'heart.'

Cinch!

The lock opened.

"Stand back." Alycia commanded, not knowing what to expect. Serana remained by her side, but the Starks took a few reflexive steps back. She did not tell them of the Elder Scroll. Only that it was her chest to claim. Her hands grasped the edges, carefully lifting the box open just enough where only they could see.

Just as she did, she slammed with a vision: The entirety of Westeros. From the south came fire; from the north came ice. They collided and reshaped the land. She heard the flapping of wings, followed by the howl of wolves. Then to the moons, Secunda shattered and fell; Masser burned. Fire spread across world like a plague, and then all was silent with the cold of an eternal winter.

At the mouth of Nirn, a figure of pure shadow walked until it was standing over her. The feeling it gave was evil. Pure evil. It was revolting.

And so it begins again, it said. But you are different. Not like the others. Always, there are warriors, heroes beside them, the et'Ada even. But never you at their front. You are new. They have done something different. But no matter. I have waited countless kalpas for this. You will not stop me.

The vision faded away as it left her with these words: I will know you.

BANG!

Alycia damn near broke the chest with her strength when she slammed it closed, startling everyone.

"Aly?"

Alycia felt dizzy. The vision was sudden and incoherent, not like what she was used to, and that was saying something. She wobbled slightly on her feet and nearly tripped were it not for Serana's quick reflexes.

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" the Dragonborn quickly reoriented herself. "Just a little bit turned around."

Serana pinged her. What did you see?

I don't know. And that's the second vision I've had tonight. I can't even recall it that well.

For the love of…

We'll deal with it later.

I knew this was a bad idea.

Breaking the magical contact. Alycia shook her head and smiled at the concerned Starks. "I'm alright. Just a little magic trap they put in."

"Trap?" Lyanna said in disbelief.

"Well, I suppose it's a good thing you're true to your words." Alycia chuckled. "Because if you didn't and managed to open the chest, the trap would have killed you."

Benjen gulped. The poor boy.

"Soo," Lyanna enunciated, "what's inside?"

"Hmm?" They were eager to know. Alycia wasn't sure what to say. Maybe she could get away with the one. She opened the chest again, just enough to pull it out, and not reveal the 'other' contents. She held it out to them, "An Elder Scroll."

"WHAT?!" the Stark girl jumped, startling the rest. "An Elder Scroll? Fucking hells."

"Lya."

"I'm sorry father." She bowed. "It's just… this is…"

"What's an Elder Scroll?" Brandon asked.

"A literal storytelling device of prophecy and madness that borders on irrelevancy." Serana drawled. "Trust me, the less you know about what an Elder Scroll is and does, the healthier it'll be for your sanity."

"This one in particular is what probably caused the Doom." Alycia examined it, completely ignoring the gaping looks on the children. "The idiots accidently opened an Oblivion Gate or two, and hordes of Daedra came through, simultaneously triggering a super eruption that destroyed the peninsula. When you try to gain immortality using something you can barely understand, that's usually what happens. Just ask the Dwemer."

Lord Stark rubbed his forehead. "I think I have had enough for tonight. We should all get some rest. I think we can all use it, at this point."

"On that, I agree." Alycia nodded. "But if I may, my lord, we would speak with you in private, if you permit it."

"But—"

"Lyanna." Lord Stark glared, she shrunk beneath him. 'To your rooms. All of you."

"Yes father." She said, deflated.

She and her brothers bowed and left the vault, leaving Alycia and Serana with the Lord of Winterfell.

"She's rather spirited." The Dragonborn remarked.

"Aye. She is." Lord Stark agreed, "Also the most difficult. Even more so after her mother died. She and Brandon have the wolf blood in them."

"Wolf blood?"

"They act without thinking. Especially if they want something."

"Ah, so they're impulsive." Alycia pondered, thinking on Lyanna more. "Does she know how to use a sword?"

"No." Lord Stark said immediately. He sighed, conceding, "Not properly, at least. I don't allow it, but that doesn't stop her from sneaking into the armory to steal a dulled sword abd practice in the godswood late in the night. She thinks she's being clever. How could you tell anyways?"

"I can be very observant." Alycia said. "She has more muscle mass and tone than most noble girls at that age despite her slim frame."

"I had long hoped she would eventually grow out of it. Now, it seems that it may never happen. In no small part due to you." He lamented. "Meaning no offense, of course."

"None taken. But maybe you shouldn't try to stop it." Serana suggested. "Some people are just that determined."

"If I had betrothed her to a northern family, perhaps I wouldn't." Lord Stark retorted. "But she is betrothed to the Lord of the Stormlands, and it is different in the south." He then shifted the discussion to its original purpose. "Now, what is it you wish to discuss?"

Alycia took a deep breath. "Serana?" her friend nodded and flexed her illusion magic, breaking into the minds of the guards outside yet again to make sure they paid no mind along with anyone who might come while the Dragonborn placed a muffle charm on the doorway, so no sound could be heard.

"You'll have to forgive us for the extra security, my lord." Alycia explained, walking over to the chest.

Lord Stark narrowed his eyes, "There's more inside that chest, isn't there?"

Alycia only nodded, opening it fully to place the Elder Scroll back inside, and pulled out one of its 'extra' contents from its oval imprint. When she looked back at the Stark patriarch, his face was wide and open-mouthed. Walking over to him, she handed him a blue-streaked, snow white dragon egg. "You guard this with your life, Rickard Stark." She commanded, her crimson eyes and ruby glowing intensely. "Tell no one you have it until the time is right, write a letter if you have to in case something happens, but above all else hide it somewhere only you and the family you entrust it with after can find it."

Lord Stark only managed to wheeze out one word, "Why?"

"Because for some reason, I feel this belongs with your family." She then gestured to the others. "And something tells me I will be doing the same for those. One way or another."

Lord Stark cautiously took the egg, turning it over in his hands. He frowned, "It's more like a stone."

"So was Zosiilviing's." Alycia retorted. "I'm not going to pretend to know what I'm talking about because to this day I still don't understand how it happened. I just found her egg beneath the Eldergleam's trunk when I visited the tree for some other reason a century ago. My dragon hatched from it during a full moon a month later, when the Greybeards of High Hrothgar declared me Dragonborn, and I withstood the strength of their Voices. My only guess is that there is magic involved in some way." Alycia beheld the egg in Lord Stark's hand, thinking for a moment, before trying, "Praad…" It came as soft as a whisper, but the power behind it was beyond nature, surging into the egg, and without another moment… it pulsed back, Lord Stark nearly dropping it in shock. "See." Alycia grinned. "Maybe it just has to be under the right circumstances."

"Dragons are magic by nature," Serana added, "whether they are the drakes the Valyrians and their descendants commanded or the immortal dov that the ancient Nords once worshipped as gods, that is what they are." She held her chin in thought, "There is no doubt that it will hatch one day, and according to our books only two others of that color have ever appeared, probably laid by the original white dragon, Kiisahrah, the World Shaper. The second, Naaliizstrun, has protected the only free city in Akavir for thousands of years."

"And she may even choose a rider. But above all else, she must return to Skyrim if she is to become a true dragon, and not an obedient animal." Alycia concluded. "They all do." For a blue-eyes white dragon, it is imperative.

"This… is a lot to take in." Lord Stark breathed. You and me both. Alycia thought. "I still don't understand why you would entrust my family with this. We are wolves, our blood runs deep with the First Men who came here long before the Targaryens and the Andals before them. The dragon has no presence in our history."

"And my family is descended directly from an elven god." An oxymoron, of course. Auri-El and Akatosh are one and the same. The dragon's shadow has always loomed over her, even if her father's family did not worship him in that way. "Dragons-real dragons, don't choose friends based on blood, only through strength and respect. That's why Odahviing allows Serana to fly with him, and she is not the only rider besides myself. If and when this egg hatches, the hatchling will likely imprint on the first person she sees. So, make sure it's someone from you family. If they are worthy, she will bring them with her to Skyrim when she hears the call. If not, then she will go alone."

"The call?"

Alycia thought for a moment, "Hmm. That's sort of my own name for it." She paced for a bit, articulating her hands, "When the World-Eater returned in 4E 201, all of the remaining dragons in the world flocked to Skyrim, pledging their allegiance to him, including one that not a dovah. My... friend, Jason Stone, tamed that dragon, partly because it sensed his Valyrian ancestry, but also because he recognized his strength. It was the Cannibal."

Lord Stark slowly nodded, staring at the egg for a few more moments before grabbing a sack in the vault, emptying it of its contents and shoved the egg inside. "I know just the place to hide it." Alycia nodded, turning back to the chest to look over the other eggs one more time before closing and locking the chest. It would be moved to the room where she had been quartered for the last three days, and in that time she would have Abraksis take it into Oblivion until she called again. What Sheogorath had told her in Valyria also still bugged her. The ancient stories told around the world tend to have something in common. Then let's see where this all leads… She wanted to hope they didn't try to rope her into any political schemes, though now it seems she has gone and done that herself. She sighed in defeat. Same game, different board.

As she walked back into the room she woke up in, she found herself feeling apprehensive about what may come of this. Sitting on the bed and staring into the recently lit fireplace, she began reminiscing. Embers rose from the flames like the memories she conjured up; from Skyrim to Alioth; princess to hero; warrior to legend, Alycia has long realized that everywhere she goes, she has always changed the course of virtually any country's future in some way. Whether by prophecy, or mere chance, people like her upset the balance of power others have carefully constructed for themselves, from thieves to kings, it did not matter. Simply staying out of the way would be easier, to blazes with it all, even, but she won't do that. She can't. Damned if she does, damned if she doesn't, the world always pays the price for her inaction, and does still if she takes action.

One thing was certain, huge changes were coming to the people of this continent, and the Dragonborn knew they were not ready for them.

*KNOCK*

*KNOCK*

Alycia winced. Here we go. "Come in."

She rose from the bed just as Serana entered the room. She had a serene look on her face, though her eyes carried a different mood.

She was pissed, Alycia's history for recklessness has never sat well with the vampire, especially after the Second Planemeld.

---

A/N: Personally, I'm not as satisfied with this as it could have gone. The argument between Lyanna and the northern lords was written and rewritten over 20 times, and I'm still not entirely happy with it. Also, I noticed that as I write scenes, I fall into the trap of wordiness and it drags on rather than pushing the plot forward. I wanted to go back and change them, but I had a gotten a headache by that point, so to hell with it. That being said, chapters will be be progressively shorter until I finally get my pace and formula down.

One of the most annoying aspects of this was also calculating Zosiilviing's flight speed to adjust how long the trip from Tamriel to Essos was versus the pursuit from Valyria to Winterfell, and to do that, I actually had to compare speed records made by aircraft IRL, and it still is a bit messy. Then again, magic is magic I suppose, which is what happened when Alycia and Serana called on Zosiilviing and Odahviing. Yes, our favorite vampire can Shout too, I forgot to mention how and when, but it's pretty obvious from who she learned from.

Speaking of which, I will be taking inspiration from the Thunderchild Skyrim mod to showcase more Shouts, but with more variety from the Dragon language. In Enai Siaion's mod, the new Shouts use existing Words but with new meanings and effects. Here, those Shouts exist but some will have different words to make it more lore based but the effects remain the same and are much more massive, i.e. Speak Unto the Stars, one of the most powerful and unique Shouts in Enai's mod, would be absolutely terrifying to see IRL. Or awesome if you're not on the receiving end of it. Here's how I'm changing some of those words to make more sense of it according to lore rather than the limitations of the original game:

Original Thunderchild words: Tiid Mir Tah; Time Allegiance Pack

-New Words, now split into two phases:

-Phase One, banish the stars: Vus Fil Tah; Nirn Star Pack

-Phase Two, make it rain: Gaar Lovok; Unleash Aetherius

A few original ones that I came up with will also appear, including the Words Alycia would have to say in order to use Burst Stream.

Also, dragon eggs! Yikes! Each will hatch and have a different rider. These will not be the ones from ASOIAF lore, as they will be born with an active soul. Meaning the Starks' were basically just handed a homegrown nuclear weapon. I kind of always wondered what would happen if each kingdom had one, like a deterrent of sorts similar to the Tailed-Beasts from Naruto.

As for Serana, it was inevitable, but I decided the best time and place would have been right after the incident with the Daedric Titan. Their moody conversation will open the next chapter. To be clear, Alycia and Serana are not lovers. It was tempting to do, but at this point, I feel that it's been done to death with so many fanfics. So, their relationship is platonic, think of Benson and Stabler from Law and Order (speaking of which, YAY! Christopher Meloni's back!), so the door is kind of open but don't hold your breath. They are just two very close friends who have seen and been through hell together. I'll be hinting at that heavily in the next chapter, and it all goes back to the Second Planemeld, and even the Rape of Solitude. Lore wise, the first Planemeld was really bad, but the second one made that look like a vacation in Cancun, and at the center of it all was Serana and Alycia. There is a reason Serana and Valerica are the last of the Daughters.

As for the name Starlight, I know, it sounds an awful lot like Stormborn. But let's get literal, those of us who have played the Elder Scrolls games back to back will all universally agree that Daenerys Targaryen even with all her achievements and titles gained throughout the books and in the TV series, is really nothing special when compared to someone like the Dragonborn… or the Hero of Kvatch, or the Nerevarine, or the Hero of Daggerfall, the Eternal Champion, the Vestige, hell even frigging Cyrus and the Forgotten Hero; savior complex and 'she's mah kween' be damned, these characters were practically gods among men… and that's just the player characters. While Daenerys' Stormborn name comes from what sounds like a Cat 5 hurricane, which is for all intents and purposes a natural phenomenon, the snowstorm that nearly destroyed Alinor when Alycia was born was anything but. And then there was the comet and the birthmark, definitely not a coincidence. Let's just say there is more to our redheaded warrior than even she understands because she is not normal, even by TES hero standards. As for Dany, yes she will play a major role, but she hasn't even been conceived yet. Hell, I almost concluded this with a POV from another character of this particular era, only to remember that they are barely a year old at this point. Go figure. I mean, how do you write from the perspective of a one year old? It was hard enough for GRRM to write seven year old Bran, imagine a baby.

*That song there is Miracle of Sound's amazing Skyrim ode, Legends of the Frost (feat. Malukah) for those of you who don't know (you should though if you played Skyrim at least once).

*I changed Serana's eyes to reflect what I have seen in ESO, where certain characters and creatures from Coldharbour sport that eye color, and considering she is a Daughter of Coldharbour, it made more sense. Her whole appearance is different in fact, matching one of the mods I have in my Skyrim which is Seranaholic 1.5. It's not that I never liked the original face, but when I first installed it, it just became default for me. But that's just me, use whatever imagination at your leisure, because that's what reading makes us do.

Anyways, that's all I've got to say for now. Cheers! - noobie