Of Forge and Magic

by Rogue-Mando

Benjamin Orion Stark, Brother, Hogwarts graduate, fantasy nerd, and the Dragon Smith, finds himself in a world straight from his wildest dreams. With a mastery of runes and experience under a High Smith of the Goblin Nation, Benjamin rejoins his family and flips Westeros on it's head.

6. Negotiations

Ninth Day of the Moon…

278 AC…

King's Landing…

Office of the Hand…

"My Lord Hand, thank you for meeting with me."

For the past two months, things had picked up rapidly - but they had been two of the best in my life. The Lords of the North had started gathering their men and were beginning to send them North as far as Castle Black and South as far as the heavily refurbished Moat Cailin. The walls of the fortress were rapidly approaching completion when I apparated South to King's Landing and were due to be done within a week to a fortnight. In reality, they should have been done by now, but Grashnog had shifted focus from the walls (now that they were high enough to ward off most armies) to the Keep and redoubled his efforts in making glass for greenhouses (for the Moat and North in general) now that Dacey was going to be a permanent resident of the castle. Right now, she stayed in a small log cabin we shared on the east of the compound. Though it was the day she met Grashnog that still brought a smile to my face.

For three days after we were wed, we stayed at Winterfell and barely ever left our rooms… We had apparently been truly blessed by the gods as we were married by magic and oath. So I wasn't sure if she was always bloody insatiable or if it was the bond's doing - either way, I certainly wasn't complaining. On the fourth day, she asked for us to go to Bear Island and I agreed. For another week, we stayed there and I got to know the rest of Dacey's family while the rest of the Earth Starks and company settled down in Wintertown. In fact, I think Mom's opened a shop there now. But anyway, we had returned to Moat Cailin by Portkey, and to say that Dacey was stunned at what she saw would be an understatement. She had only heard rumors of the ruined fortress but the imposing thirty-foot walls certainly commanded respect. Of course, I apparated the two of us a few hundred feet in front of the North gate so she could get a good look at her new home. She loved it but the first thing she asked about was when the keep would be ready.

I just smirked and offered to introduce her to the head of construction: Grashnog. The prince, a grumpy little fellow who I met when I returned to the Moat, had handed the reins of the construction effort to his father's second in command almost as fast as he had attempted to take over. As for Dacey? At first, she had flat refused to jump into the shaft to the caves but when I took her hand and led her down, she jumped - but she screamed all the way down and almost decked me when we hit bottom… Thankfully, I was able to dodge and ducked into Grashnog's forge - where instead he smacked me in the back of the head. The fact that I was swarmed by twelve dragons and Dacey came face to face with not only her first Goblin (and the fact that he was unglammored and wasn't using his spell here meant she was treated to a full goblin and not someone that looked like Filius. Right now, his pointed ears, sharp teeth, and everything else that made him a Goblin were on display for Dacey to see clearly) but first dragons as well was a sight to behold.

Surprisingly though, neither I nor Grashnog was the first to welcome Dacey to the Forge - that honor went to Oramir. In the time I was gone, apparently, Ancaleon, Oramir, and Inferna learned to fly - Dacey and I were the first to find out the hard way as we were hit by meat missiles. Dacey screamed bloody murder until she realized that the dragon wasn't trying to eat her but wanted to be pet like a dog. Mercifully, I did warn her that I had hatched dragons so she wasn't too angry at me - but when I managed to squeak out that I didn't know that Oramir was going to do that she glared at me one more time and then relaxed as I played with Ancaleon, who refused to leave my lap, as she and Oramir began bonding. That was the time Grashnog decided to cut in with his wedding gift to Dacey that I had recommended - a flanged mace with an Ice Vibranium head and Draganium shaft. If I hadn't been working relentlessly on my own gift to her, I would have been pissed that his gift was so good - with the metals I invented!

She had instantly fallen in love with the thing but, unfortunately, we now had a region to coordinate and a castle to run so there wasn't much time for her to practice with her new mace. Already, I had learned the spells to train birds - of any sort (apparently, the wizarding world just has a thing for owls?) - and had sent a raven to Lord Lannister in King's Landing. A week later, he had sent back a date that would be in a month and a half. If he wanted to wait that long for a 'matter of grave importance to House Lannister,' and a 'business proposition unlike any the North and West had ever come to,' then I would let the man wait. It was his family sword after all.

Thankfully, Lord Wyman (for all his bitching and moaning) had sent men from White Harbor as soon as he made it there from Winterfell. The men immediately set to work digging and draining as much as they could from the bogs with unexpected help - the residents of the Neck. They called themselves Crannogmen but their Lord - Tarlan Reed - had been informed of what we planned to do (somehow. The man was among the handful of lords who didn't answer Rickard's call to Winterfell) and had sent men to act as guides and to help with the digging. Shockingly, the crews were now a mere eighty miles from Moat Cailin (granted, they had only dug just under fifty but I was still impressed they had made it that far so quickly). Unfortunately, they were doing the easy bit now as they were digging in (relatively) solid ground. Once they passed Moat Cailin and started to expand the Fever river… Well, let's just say that - even with Andromeda helping - I don't expect every man to make it home.

"Indeed. You are Benjamin Stark? Strange. I had never heard of you before your Raven. Did you know that there is not a scrap of information about you anywhere to be found? Even the King's Master of Whispers hadn't a clue who you were and yet here you sit, claiming to be the Lord of Moat Cailin - a ruin," Tywin Lannister growled as he peered up at me. I had yet to take the seat, allowing him to dictate how things were in his office - I had an ace or two to play anyway. "And you wear a sword to our meeting. Tell me, why should I not have you killed where you stand?"

"Because the Lord Stark in Winterfell can vouch for my existence and, more importantly, this sword is not mine. It's yours, or rather your house's," I said simply as his pale green eyes sharpened to jade obsidian. "This is the matter of grave importance I spoke of," I said as I unslung the blade from my back and laid it on the desk. The old lion raised an eyebrow and took the blade from the desktop, his eyes widened comically as he finally looked at the hilt and unsheathed the blade.

"This is Brightroar… Where did you find this!?" He snapped, coming to his feet with the sword raised. I simply held out the journal for him to take.

"Read the first page and you will understand." He glared at me again, trying and failing to imitate an angry lion as he snatched the leather-bound book from my hand as he sat down again. He satBrightroar down and flipped through the book, only glancing down at the pages when it was open.

"Tommen the Second!?" He barked as he looked up at me with confusion laced on his face. "You found his tomb?"

"I found his ship," he looked even more confused but I gestured to the book. "It's all outlined in that journal, except his death. I believe he choked on the very air he was breathing as he was about to put to sea. There was a hole punched in the side of the boat and it was still in the water but it was all rather well preserved… I was able to save the journal and the sword but his body still lies in Valyria." Tywin looked at me in utter astonishment as he glanced down at the sword and the journal.

"House Lannister thanks you, Lord Stark of Moat Cailin. Please, sit," Tywin said quietly and I obliged him readily. "I will have you rewarded. Though surviving the Doom is a reward in and of itself… What is it you want? You hold a castle, you hold lands, and you are of the North. I cannot think of what it is you might want from me for the return of this blade."

"Two castles built by Westermen along with permission to build a harbor between Deepwood Motte and Bear Island. They've agreed to begin this venture in a joint effort to help bolster Northern trade, perhaps we can even work out a trade agreement between this new port and Lannisport as well."

"You have permission for the port. These two strongholds are to be built where and held by whom?" Tywin growled as I nodded, it was a reasonable question.

"On the Fever River and at the Bite," Tywin looked surprised when I grinned, "I didn't just find Brightroar, my Lord. House Manderly now has its own Valyrian blade, I believe Lord Wyman called it something pretentious like Manwraith? I'm not too sure, but, in return for the blade, I asked him to begin digging a Canal that would connect the East and West unlike any other place in Westeros - though I suppose while you could do something with the Saltpans and the Trident, but no one ever has dared or bothered to. When the canal is done, I offer any vessel from the Westerlands a fifty percent relief from the toll that will be imposed on all vessels - and any sailing under the banner of House Lannister will be able to pass through free of charge." Tywin's eyes had narrowed to slits as his mind raced through the possibilities.

"And who would man the castles?" he whispered.

"Benjen, the youngest son of Lord Rickard, would man the West but the East is still flux."

"A man of the Westerlands will man the East castle," Tywin rumbled and I clamped down on my instinct to whoop.

"One of my choice," I said swiftly. "I want a man I can trust to not let pirates in my lands." Tywin leaned back in his chair slightly, picking up his goblet of wine thoughtfully as silence reigned. For a few minutes, we just sat there before Tywin nodded to himself and took the blade off of the table, leaning it behind the desk, just out of sight.

"We have an accord, Lord Stark. Have you drafted the papers?"

"No, my Lord Hand," I said and I was having trouble deciding what was colder: a glacier or the Hand's stare. "I was unsure what you would ask for and I am not the most skilled when it comes to drafting legal documentation." Tywin simply nodded and picked out a piece of parchment and a quill from his stationary, scratching the quill quickly yet meticulously as he began the process of writing out the agreement we came to.

"I will provide… two thousand stonemasons for the period of… Five years," Tywin said without glancing up at me, "to build these Eastern and Western castles of yours. If the strongholds should not be done within the allotted time, then we will renegotiate terms - regardless of when your canal is finished. Should the masons complete construction within that time, they are to be provided passage to the Westerlands, provided by the North, as these men are to return with you in order to choose a Lord for the Eastern castle. Provided you have not already decided on the matter already. Is this acc-" Unfortunately, he was unable to finish the question as a gaunt man with terribly matted shoulder-length hair and a ragged beard burst into the office.

"Tywin! I- Who is this!?" The man, who was most assuredly Aerys II Targaryen, demanded from the most dangerous man in Westeros.

"I am Krats Neb, your Ma-Grace," I caught myself. They called Monarchs your grace here, not majesty. I'll have to remember that. "A simple smith out of Volantis."

"Did I ask you, peasant!?" The king hissed as he glared down at me, "do not presume to speak to me or I'll have Ser Gerold take your tongue!" I simply nodded and bowed my head as Tywin rose.

"As stated, this is Krats Neb, your Grace. He stumbled on a family heirloom of mine in Essos. Where? I know not. He simply was returning it to me." Tywin said with a cold glint in his eye. I was honestly shocked that the man was going along with the charade. Honestly, this might not have been the first time I used the name Krats - there was that once I used it to get into a Belfast pub on Saint Patrick's day, but the less said about that the better…

"Family heirloom, eh? And what would that be?" Aerys had a dangerously hungry glint in his eye but Tywin just picked up the journal still resting on the desk and presented it to the king who looked confused.

"The last testament of Tommen the Second, son of Tysat. The Bold Lion - my ancestor who died in Valyria." Aerys immediately lost interest but that swiftly changed as he swiveled to look at me sharply with something I didn't quite like dancing in his eyes.

"If he found something belonging to your ancestor, then he can find something belonging to mine…" He muttered as his eyes danced in insane glee. "And a smith he said? Oh ah oh, yes! That will do! Peasant!" He cried, staring at me with a terrifying expression - or would have been terrifying if I didn't think he was anything more than an idiotic, insane fool. "You are to bring me my ancestors' sword! Bring me Dark Sister! No… No, that will not do at all! That is not the sword of kings! Bring me Blackfyre!"

"I will find them, your Grace," I said, and I intended to - but if I brought them back it would be to run one of them through this cunt's chest. Tywin looked at me disapprovingly but I ignored him until the King looked me up and down, sniffed, and shuffled out of the room like the cockroach he was.

"That was well handled," Tywin said quietly as he stared at the door. "Aerys is temperamental at the best of times. Though, I advise you never set foot back in King's Landing if those swords remain lost, else you may lose your head to Ser Arthur's."

"A tragedy, really," I had to force myself back from rolling my eyes.

"Indeed, especially if Aerys decides to summon the Lord of Moat Cailin to make him swear allegiance, Master Krats," Tywin snapped scathingly, I just shrugged in return.

"I didn't see you offering up Brightroar," I pointed out. "If I'd revealed my true identity and reasons for being here, then that Sir Gerold would have a pretty new sword on his back right about now and I'd be running for the North," Tywin's eyes narrowed fractionally before his shoulders drooped as he brought a hand to his face.

"Yes, you are quite correct in that regard, Lord Stark… My eldest son, Jaime, will wield Brightroar when he comes of age. I am afraid it is unsuited to me…" Tywin said quietly as he placed his hand on the pommel of the great sword longingly. I just looked at him curiously.

"Would you like it reforged?" Tywin's head snapped up instantly.

"You know how to rework Valyrian steel?"

"Aye, my master taught me."

"And who is your master?" Tywin asked quietly.

"Grashnog of Qohor," Tywin shook his head in disbelief as he stared at me.

"You mean to tell me," he started coldly, "that the finest smith in the world, well known even here in King's Landing, and a veritable legend to the street of steel, took an apprentice?"

"He made me a master smith a long time ago, I haven't worked with him in a while," I said evasively and it was true… From a Certain Point of View… Grashnog hadn't worked with me in three years when I found him so, to him, he made me a master a long time ago. But Tywin was stunned anyway.

"Where did you say your travels took you?" I just grinned.

"I didn't, but if you ever hear the term Dragon Smith, you've met him," Tywin looked unimpressed but I shrugged. "So, if you want the blade reforged into two - possibly two small ones and a dagger - I could do that… But-"

"But it would come at a price." Tywin cut me off. "Name it."

"Castamere."

"No," Tywin growled heatedly and I just shrugged.

"Had to try. If you give me five hundred more men - I believe carpenters will be necessary - then we can consider the debt paid."

"Done," Tywin said as he passed Brightroar back to me. "Have that back to me within the moon and you'll have those men - but not a moment sooner. Once, and only once, I have two longswords in my hands or on my desk will I sign the order."

"A fair bargain, my Lord Hand. I'll see it done. Oh, and if I may ask one more small thing," I said, tapping my forehead as I remembered what I wanted to ask. "If you could have a few heralds send word throughout the city, I would have any smallfolk who are willing to work come North. Not only will this help alleviate the city's overpopulation problem, but it's also cheap labor for me. Room and board will be guaranteed," Tywin's eyebrows shot up at this, "for any man or woman as long as they work." I finished and the Lannister Lord's eyebrows went down in understanding.

"An interesting proposition, I will see it done. Is there to be a caravan?"

"There can be," I said carefully as the King's hand nodded. "I can have a few men here relatively quickly to guide the volunteers North."

"Send your men, Lord Stark. When can I expect them?"

"A fortnight, my Lord Hand. If the gods are merciful, I will not have to return to the Moat to reforge your blades. If I'm truly fortunate, I'll be able to find a smithy to work in tonight. Though, I do have other business to tend to in the coming days."

"The bane of man," Tywin said sagely. "Go, you are dismissed."

"My thanks, my Lord Hand. I will return within the fortnight," the man simply nodded and looked down at his paperwork as I stood to leave the office. Well… I wasn't due back at the Moat for a while, might as well see what this Street of Steel business was about. And so I did.

XXX

If I thought this short little jaunt through the city was going to be easy, I was sadly mistaken. Mercifully, Harry had already been to the city and found that necessity truly was the Mother of Invention. Prof had said the city reeked so badly that he still smelled it on himself a week later so he came up with a way to make sure he would never smell shit again in his life if he decided not to – he came up with a spell that was a riff on the bubblehead charm. It was a small veil of air that's completely invisible as it sat on your face (quite like a mask, actually), essentially working as a filter for sulfide, urine, and the other horrible, terrible smells mixed with the putrid sea air of King's Landing while leaving me able to still smell things that weren't as offensive. But that didn't change the fact that my boots were still covered in shit up to my ankles as I trudged through a particularly terrible slum I was told was called Flea Bottom. Ah well, it's nothing a scourgify can't clean.

"Milord!" I heard from one of the few shops lining the streets, "milord, please wait!" I turned around with a lifted eyebrow.

"Can I help you?" I asked the small boy who was panting a few feet behind me, obviously having ran hard. He looked startled that I actually turned around.

"D-do you have any coin to spare, milord?" he asked just loud enough to be heard over the din of the crowd. I nodded and pulled my coin purse out from underneath my shirt. I may have been in King's Landing but that only meant that I was warded and armored to the teeth. Winter's Bane was currently at the Moat in Dacey's care but I had my knives hidden on my wrists along with the shirt and newly made leggings of Vibranium under my cloak and trousers. Unless someone tried to stab me through the hand, they weren't going to do much damage to me. I pulled a silver stag out of the purse and the boy's eyes widened comically. I knelt in front of him and pressed the coin into his hand.

"Do you have a dad, kid?" I asked and he nodded slowly.

"Pap's a captain, milord."

"Show him that coin," he nodded rapidly, "tell him that Benjamin of the House Stark, the Lord of Moat Cailin," the boy looked like he was going to pass out now, "gave it to you. If he asks for proof, give him this," I conjured a wolf pendant into my hand and pulled it from my pocket, making it look like I took it from there. "And tell him that he can possibly earn one every day, he needs only assemble some of his friends and wait for me to return. In a Fortnight, I will be at the Iron Gate with my men under a direwolf banner. Do you understand?"

"I-I-I d-do, mi-milord," he stuttered out, obviously overwhelmed.

"Good lad," I smiled and ruffled the boy's hair. "Now, I seem to be a bit lost… Which way is it to the Street of Steel?"

"That way, Milord Stark," he said, pointing South-east. I just sighed and nodded.

"It appears I went the wrong way then. What's your name, lad?"

"Dale, milord," he said quietly.

"Well then, Dale," I grinned, "tell your pap that the North needs good captains, and I need a few good men."

"Aye, I-I will, milord," the boy said as he scurried off as I chuckled lightly. Standing and turning around to see that the path South-east was blocked by a trio of men staring at me with greed in their eyes.

"Saw what ye gave t'at boy, milord," the one on the far left sneered.

"A moon a day, he says," the right one chirped mockingly. "Sounds like a load of dung, it does. Bu' I reckon' ye have one fat purse, milord."

"Aye, er'yone knows t'at t'e Lard's don't give a flyin' fuck 'bouts us. But ev'ry lard I've ev'r met has had one fat purse. Bu' why 'tart carin' now, milard?" The center man asked in a horrible imitation of an Irish accent.

"I need men," I said simply.

"An' I nee' a pretty, new s'ard, milard," he shot back, eyeing Brightroar hungrily.

"Well," I said casually. "For one, this isn't my sword, it's the Hand's," the man froze with his eyes wide open. "Ah, yes, that Hand. Tywin Lannister. So, unless you want to steal from the jaws of the Lion, and he would find you with this monstrosity on your back, and the Wolf, then I would move along boys."

"W'ats a Stark doin' wit ta Hand's s'ard?" left man asked as he drew a dagger – a horribly maintained one that looked more like a rusty saw than a blade from the chips and nicks in it – from his belt.

"I found it, and I returned it to the man. He asked me to make it into two – like your bodies will be if you don't put that dagger away here and now," I growled, reaching behind me for Brightroar's hilt. While I wasn't a fan of the sword, it would work well enough for taking on a trio of thugs.

"What in the Seven Hells is going on here!?" a new voice thundered as I caught a flash of gold out of the corner of my eye. The flash of gold shocked me enough that I actually turned to look at the five men jogging toward me and the three thugs. The men, who had to be members of the Gold Cloaks I'd heard so much about, were wearing (surprise, surprise!) heavy cloaks of golden dyed wool and helms that looked gilded from a distance but up close were obviously either made from yellow brass or a poor-quality bronze - bloody shoddily made too. Even when I started out, I could cast metal better than that. But their presence was enough.

The three thugs took one look at the golden cloaked men, saw they were now outnumbered two to one, and ran for the hills. "Stop those men!" The lead gold-cloak cried as four of his men charged after the would-be thieves while he stopped by me. "Are you alright, my Lord?"

"Perfectly, though it's probably a good thing you got here when you did. Things were about to get messy."

"I imagine so… The fools had no idea they were walking dead men, did they, my Lord?"

"None at all," I said with a grin that the man returned easily. "Benjamin Stark," I held my hand out and the man clasped it easily.

"Manly, of House Stokeworth, my Lord," he said with a bit of confusion in his eyes. "What brings a man of House Stark to Flea Bottom?"

"Got turned around on my way to the Street of Steel, I'm afraid. This city's a bloody maze," I said with a self-deprecating grin that the man instantly understood. "Just finished a bit of business with Lord Tywin and I'm off to see if I can't borrow one of the smithies on the Street of Steel for a few hours to go ahead and reforge this monstrosity," I gestured to the sword on my back, "but ended up here instead. I've been told it's to the South-east?"

"Aye, my Lord, that's right. I'll be happy to escort you down."

"Thank you, Lord Stokeworth," I grinned as we set off, the man shook his head.

"I'm afraid I'm just a third-born son, my Lord. I'm just a watchman now."

"And I was just an apprentice smith six months ago, now I'm Lord of Moat Cailin and meeting with men who run the Seven Kingdoms," I said simply and the man gaped at me, I just shook my head. "Things can change faster than we can keep up with, friend."

"Aye, that they can… So, what sword is that? It's got the look of Valyria about it," His change of topic was even blunter than a drunk Greatjon.

"This is Brightroar," I reached back and unsheathed the blade, passing it over to the man easily as his eyes widened drastically. "Go ahead, take it. This might be the last day this sword exists." The man took the blade's hilt with shaking hands, completely in awe as he brought it up to a front guard position.

"It's so light," he whispered as he looked up at me, "my cudgel weighs more than this does!"

"And it never needs to be sharpened," I grinned and the man looked suitably jealous at that but handed it back to me all the same.

"My family never was rich enough for Valyrian steel, though I would sell my own arm for a blade like that."

"Maybe it won't come to that," I said with a small frown. "How long have you been in the watch?" I asked as I re-sheathed Brightroar. For the next half hour or so, the man and I talked about everything from why the city stank to how many men he thought would answer my call. His answer shocked me.

"I reckon there won't be a man left in King's Landing with a Lord, especially one named Stark, offering them a new home and food better than the bowls o' brown, my Lord. The chance for a new home, good land, good food, and a good future? That's just too good a chance to pass up, even if it is in the North. The Goldcloaks aren't paid well until you have a few years of experience and that's if the Lord Commander isn't pocketing every pennig he can get. I was thinking of throwing my hat in the ring when old Velaryon kicks it, but your offer is tempting… Very tempting," he said as he stared off into the distance before gathering himself. "I'll make sure your message gets passed around. I don't doubt Lord Tywin will do it, but the Goldcloaks can cover more ground than a few heralds." And so, with a Direwolf pendant around his neck and a Stark banner tucked under his arm, we parted ways at the Street of Steel. Now all to do was find a man willing to let me use his smithy for the day… Well, Manly said the best smiths were at the top so might as well start there and work my way down. And with that in mind, I set off up the street to the familiar sounds of ringing anvils and roaring fires, it was almost like I was home again.

With a grin on my face, I strode easily through the street until I was at the top of the hill at a rather large smithy. There wasn't a door so I was able to just walk straight in to find a man sitting on a stool in a corner, smoking a pipe with his eyes closed and legs crossed.

"What can Tobho Mott do for you, friend?" he asked as he finally deigned to look at me with a glint in his eye. "You need armor? Perhaps a sword? No, no, you already have one sword at your back… Repair work then? Bah! You come to the finest smith in the city for repairs!? Be gone with you!" The sour man spat as he pulled his pipe back to his lips and closed his eyes again.

"I am Benjamin Stark," he cracked an eye open and stared at me flatly, "former apprentice to Grashnog of Qohor," the man's eyes flew open as he stood and grabbed me by the collar faster than I could really believe.

"You lie! The Master has never taken an apprentice!"

"You believe the old man could be alive this long and have never taken an apprentice? I wasn't his Apprentice in Qohor, no, but I was his student all the same. He lives in Moat Cailin now, with me. Send a raven, or I can bring him here to you. But let me ask you a question, why would I lie? How many Westerosi know the name of the Master?" Tobho seemed utterly stunned as I stepped back and drew the sword. "This blade doesn't need to be repaired, it needs to be reforged into two."

"If you are the Master's apprentice, why bring the blade here?" He snarled and I just grinned.

"I need a forge, thought I'd start at the best and work my way down. I'm willing to rent out your shop - for however much it would cost - for the day to remake the blade. If you want to watch, that's fine, you may even learn a thing or two." Tobho's eyes narrowed but he nodded all the same.

"Do your work, Apprentice. I will observe. My shop is now closed for the day, do what you will," he growled as he pulled the door shut, threw the bolt, and slammed a wooden bar down to secure the shop. I just grinned and pulled off the sword and my shirt, casting cooling charms as I went. This was going to be interesting.

XXX

"Incredible," Tobho muttered as he fingered the blade's edge, hissing slightly as just touching it broke the skin there. "Never in all my years would I have thought magic could do so much… Mayhaps the Master taught you after all."

"Oh he did, but I taught the spells to myself," I said curtly as I deftly wrapped the gold wire around the hilt. Tobho had allowed me to use his selection of wood, gold wire, and rubies for the hilts and decorations on the pommel. As soon I finished the wire wrap, inserted the ruby, and deftly worked the steel to hold the ruby in place, I held them up to inspect them. The swords were identical, three-and-a-half foot bastard swords with fullers running down each side of the blade. The only difference between them was that one had crimson streaks running through the steel while the other was golden. The hilts were different too - most specifically on the pommel. The golden blade had the roaring lion pommel previously on Brightroar while the red was going to be fitted with a simple ruby. Typically, I wouldn't do too much ornamentation to a sword but these were status symbols as much as they were weapons - ones that would represent House Lannister for an age. It was something you didn't screw around with, even if you were from another house. My pride as a smith wouldn't allow it. Though Tywin would be in for a few surprises if he… mishandled, the blades.

And so, I had two swords in hand, equal but opposite. One with a golden and grey blade with the red and grey cross guard and the other with a blade of red and grey with a gold and grey cross. The pommels and the colors were the only true way to tell which sword was which, but they would serve House Lannister well.

"Truly? Hmph. Mayhaps you did. The Lannister Lord will be pleased with them."

"Hope so, I've got a lot riding on these. Hopefully, he'll be glad to have them a month before they were expected to be done."

"Any man would be pleased with that expediency," he said as he passed me a pair of simple, leather sheaths. "Go. You are welcome in Tobho Mott's shop any time. Such the honor is that the Master's apprentice uses my own smithy," he said with a broad grin. "You have taught me much, Tobho shall keep your secrets."

"I've taught you little enough of magic," I said with a grin, "and not even the best bits, yet. One day I just might though - but you'll have to come to Moat Cailin," I sheathed the blades carefully and ran them through my belt as I looked at the grinning man.

"Such as what?"

"Such as this," I said as I looked at him with a grin and apparated out of his shop into a small alley close to the Red Keep. I wish I could have seen the look on his face as I was there one second and gone the next but, alas, I'll hear about it the next time I visit his shop - or when he shows up at my gate. Though now was not the time to think about it, now was the time to get back to Tywin and give him the swords and hopefully get those bloody orders filled. With a frown, I entered the bustling street and made my way toward the Red Keep - back to the bloody idiot guards that I hope recognized me this time. They didn't.

"Halt! Who comes to the Red Keep!?" The sandy-haired, broken record machine of a man barked as I got within twenty feet of the open Portcullis.

"Benjamin of the House Stark, here on business with the Hand of the King!" I called back exactly what I said this morning and finally got a flicker of recognition from the other guard that I had come to find out was a typical Dornishman.

"You may pass!" The Dornishman in white armor said as both the men's white cloaks flapped in the wind. I nodded to him and made my way into the Red Keep and over to the tower of the hand, only to be stopped again by a man in crimson and gold armor.

"Halt!" the blonde man cried before he recognized me. "Oh, haven't I seen you today?"

"You have," I said with a small smile, letting him get a good look at my face. "I am Benjamin Stark, here on business with the Hand. If you could send a man to tell him I have returned with the things he asked for?"

"At once, my Lord," he said, turning to his companion who nodded as he walked into the tower. For five minutes, both myself and the guard waited until a messenger and the guard came sprinting back out the door. "The Hand will see you, immediately," the guard gasped out.

"Thank you, my good man," I said easily as I flipped him a coin and turned to the messenger. "Lead the way." The messenger bowed and turned about, rushing inside with me close behind. 'Bloody staircase,' I thought as the messenger and I tramped up the stairs toward the Hand's personal offices. 'Have they ever heard of elevators? No… Probably not, actually. One more thing to the list.' Unfortunately, my thoughts were interrupted quite nicely as we finally reached the top of the tower. The messenger opened the door and held his hand up to me in an obvious sign for me to wait as he entered.

"If it pleases my lord," the servant said, "Benjamin, of the House Stark, Lord of Moat Cailin, is outside awaiting your summons."

"Send him in." The servant came scurrying back out.

"Tywin, of the House Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West, and Hand of the King, bids you enter." He said before bowing and hurrying back down the stairs. I just shook my head at the pomp and pushed the door open.

"You told me that you would not be ready for another fortnight, what changed?" Tywin asked flatly and I just grinned.

"Found a Smith in the city who let me use his forge," I said easily as I pulled the swords from my belt. "Two swords, as promised." Tywin picked up the blade with the roaring lion pommel - the one that was previously attached to Brightroar - and unsheathed it easily. His eyes widened for a beat before thinning in concentration. He held the sword up and twirled it easily before resheathing it and drawing the other.

"They look so different to be so perfectly matched," Tywin commented easily. "Jaime will be happy with the blade, even at twelve. Though he will only bear it when he's either Knighted or comes of age. You have done my House a great service, Lord Stark. I thank you. Do you have a wife?"

"I do, my Lord Hand," for a second anger and disappointment flared in the Hand's eyes but he nodded all the same.

"A shame, Lord Marbrand's daughter would have been an excellent match for you."

"I am sure, but my Dacey is quite a woman as well."

"Dacey? Of which house?" Tywin asked with a slightly raised brow.

"Mormont," I said and the look of disappointment and anger vanished, instantly replaced with dawning realization.

"Ah, understandable. This was Lord Rickard's idea?"

"And my ticket to the Moat," I grinned sheepishly half lying between my teeth. He had already given me the Moat but I did need a way to hold it and having a wife did just that. "But I am quite happy with his decision. Dacey's a beautiful woman."

"I am sure… Hold to her, love her. 'Tis a rare thing indeed." The hard Lannister said, almost softly.

"You are married, my Lord?" for the briefest second I could have sworn I saw hate flash in his eyes but he gathered himself quickly.

"I was once, but no longer," he said quietly. I nodded as the Lannister carried on, "she died birthing my sons Tyrion and, his twin, Reynard. Tyrion… He is a twisted mockery of a man. I have committed many sins against the gods, 'tis true, yet I oft wonder what gods cursed me with him. Reynard though? He is a good lad, born true and my youngest boy. A strong boy…" He said calmly though I could see his resolve cracking. "Though that is not what you came here to discuss. I assume you want this paperwork finished tonight? Very well. There are three copies to get through - one for you, one for I, and another for the Citadel's recordkeeps. Shall we begin?" He asked as he pushed a quill and inkpot toward me. I just sighed and nodded as I took the quill.

XXX

Is it bad that reforging the sword didn't take nearly as long as the bloody paperwork did? Everything (and I mean everything) had to be in triplicate. Damn the Maester's and their belief in redundancy, but thank heaven for it. If everything like the contracts Tywin and I signed were sent to the Citadel, I was accelerating my plans to raid the headquarters of the knowledge misers by a good couple of months - in other words? I was going to Oldtown tonight. After we finished this damned paperwork that is. According to Tywin, it was well past the hour of the bat and closing in on the hour of the eel - whatever that meant - but we were still signing papers left and right.

"Hm. Everything seems to be in order," Lord Tywin said as he examined the papers while I took mine. "Have you a room in the city? Or will you require one here? I can arrange for accomadations to be made in this very tower, if you so wish."

"Thank you for the offer, my Lord Hand, but I have lodging ready."

"Then our business is at its end, for now. I wish you good fortune, Lord Stark."

"And I, you. Good night, my Lord Hand. Until we meet again," Tywin simply inclined his head as we stood up. I offered my hand and he looked at it disdainfully until he caught sight of the swords underneath it.

"Until then," he said, clasping my hand in his. Quickly enough, I was ushered out of the Tower and then flanked by a pair of red armored Lannister guardsmen to the gates of the castle, passing the white-cloaked guards again.

"Will you require an escort, my Lord?" The Lannister man on my left asked quietly and I just shook my head with an easy smile.

"No, thank you. I can find my own way," I said easily.

"Be watchful, milord," the right guard muttered, glancing around with his hand on the pommel of his longsword. "Neva' know who ya migh' run inta on ta' stre't."

"Thank you, friend, but I'm not defenseless," I said as my daggers appeared in my hands as if they had leapt out of my sleeves, shocking the hell out of the soldiers as I walked through the gate and onto the Rosby road with my knives transforming back to their state as bracelets.

Not soon enough, I was able to duck into an alley and pull a Portkey that Harry had made for me when he made one of his infrequent visits to the Moat. He said he wanted me somewhere when I was free, so what better time than the present? I triggered the portkey and suddenly found myself in a copse of trees just off a road. I shrugged and started laying down wards as I canceled the partial bubblehead charm. Thankfully - mercifully - it was a warm night and the air was clean so I didn't need to do much more than-

"Ben! Bout time you got here!" A grating familiar voice called out cheerily from behind me. I turned around slowly and came face to face with the fluorescent green eyes and shaggy black hair of one Harry James Potter. "Well, old boy, welcome to the Reach! Oldtown in particular. Fancy a midnight library raid?" He asked but my annoyance vanished.

"Depends. Got a pepper up?" I asked and he grinned, tossing me a vial that I snatched out of the air, flicking the cork out, and downing the potion. I grimaced as steam flooded out of my ears but I was at least energized now. "Right. How long have you been planning this?"

"When you told us about the Maesters."

"Of course. How do you want to do this?" I asked as he sat down beside me.

"Well, I just so happen to have my father's cloak and your disillusionment charm, while not as good as my cloak, is as good as any I've ever seen. So, while we can go that route, I think we should try something different."

"Like what?" I asked cautiously and he just grinned broadly, tossing me another potion.

"Like we go in as birds. That's an animagus potion I slaved over for nearly twenty long years. I started working on it during my little… Eh… Shall we say adventure? In what should have been my Seventh year after stumbling on one of mum's little unfinished projects in my vault." He shrugged and I looked at him balefully.

"Your mother, the legendary potions mistress - well… should have been legendary for potions, not the other bit that is - didn't finish it so you what? Took it on yourself to do just that?"

"That's exactly what I did!" He said with a grin, "but, as I said: twenty. Bloody. Years. I said it was unfinished but I should have said Mum never got passed square one. I finally managed to perfect it six months before you disappeared and was this close," he pinched his thumb and forefinger together, squinting as he looked at them, "to going to market with it but that never happened."

"Was it approved by a board of masters?" I asked in surprise. New inventions for public use were notoriously hard to get approved. Sometimes they would be approved for private make but not for market consumption - in other words? It was the closest the Wizarding world had to copyright - for potions at least. I would know, I tried to get one of my own inventions in runes past a board of Rune Masters for market; I might have ended up with a mastery of my own for it but the blasted thing didn't make it to market anyway and now I was the only man in the Wizarding World who could make it. Harry just nodded.

"Shockingly, yes. I bloody hate potions but I hated that damn mandrake leaf even more - so did mum, apparently. She always had a reaction to the leaf and had to spit it out immediately, but she was damned determined to be an animagus. The problem was that she died before she even really started on the project. She had just worked out the initial ingredients she thought would work (of which only two were in the final product - there are thirty-seven in there), and stirring motions that actually did work," he said with a shrug.

"Okay then," I muttered as I held the vial up to the moonlight. "What's it do?" I asked cautiously eyeing the bottle like it was basilisk venom.

"It unleashes your inner animal without the month long waiting period the Mandrake process is known for - of course, the potion uses crushed and distilled Mandrake leaf, so those magical properties are still in there. Basically what the potion does it that it forces the Animagus transformation if you have an affinity to any animal - most people have more than one affinity so I can modify the potion slightly to aim for the transformation you want. I've tuned that particular dose to a bird transformation, so, if we're lucky, you'll be able to transform into a bird with me and we can swoop in while no one's really watching," Harry said with a shiteating grin on his face that I was utterly terrified of. I just glanced down at the bottle and shrugged, popping the cork and took the potion. Shockingly, it had no taste (which was a pleasant surprise) but it burned worse than fire-whiskey all the way down (which was not a pleasant surprise). Then the pain hit.

I screamed in agony as my body stretched and my bones shifted. What was the worst of all though was the feeling as my spine and face extended until I wasn't screaming anymore but howling in pain - literally. Before, I was a rather large man but now I was a wolf of a shocking size - easily the larger than Rickard's prized Destrier. Mercifully, when the transformation was complete, the pain disappeared entirely.

"Damn," I heard Harry mutter under his breath as I panted heavily and glared at him from my belly, surprisingly I was looking at his chest even while lying down. "There goes that plan. What the bloody hell even are you? Oh… Right, focus on what you looked like as a human, Ben. As nice as the dirty blonde super-wolf look is, we actually need to talk man to man." I looked up at him and bared my fangs but did as he asked, immediately changing back to my human appearance.

"A bloody Direwolf!?" I barked from my place, belly first in the dirt, as I scrambled to my feet. "I thought you said your potion was tuned to birds, you bloody tosser!"

"Tuned, but not guaranteed," Harry said as he smirked, "as proved by you. Mother Magic has a mind of her own, you know, and it would appear that the Direwolf - as you called it - is dominant in you, Stark. Now, we both know you aren't going to use the form very often but it's still a good one. We'll just have to go with plan A tonight."

"No," I said, shaking my head quickly as I donned my armor from its form as a necklace. It took me years to figure out how the first Starks made the heir knives transmutable into bracelets but once I figured it out, I managed to reverse the process with runes. So, all my armor sets were hanging from my neck in the form of thin chains made from the metal the armor was created from. "What we're going to do is I'm going to get close enough to scout the towers - or buildings, whatever they have - outside while you map the inside. I'll meet you in there."

"Well, that's an idea," Harry muttered as he scratched his chin and nodded to himself. "Alright, let's do it."

"Which way to the Citadel, then?" I asked, pulling my broom from another transmutation.

"Just a bit to the South-West, we're currently just off the Roseroad," he said before transforming into a green-eyed raven. And wasn't that the strangest looking thing? But he took off with a ringing caw as he took off, toward what I assumed was, South-West as I applied my disillusionment and notice-me-not charms to myself and my broom.

It didn't take us long to reach Oldtown proper's airspace and I was honestly impressed with what I saw. The city - for that's what it was - was a sprawling area dominated by a white tower on top of a massive black pillar in the middle of the harbor with a roaring beacon on top. Unfortunately, that wasn't the vaunted Citadel library. That particular building was much further inland - which made sense for a library. Harry had swooped down on a set of buildings connected by bridges and paths. I felt my eyebrow lift when he did make for a much shorter tower and dove through a window. I shook my head at the professor's antics and found a good position in the air, scanning the windows and area with the mage filter on my helmet.

The area was nearly magically dead save for the gentle white-red glow from the lone weirwood standing a few hundred feet away and the small pulse of emerald light inside the tower I knew was Harry's. With a sigh, I activated my binocular function and tried to spot any unsecured entrances or ways I could get in undetected. Should I have been surprised that the arrogant Maesters left the front door wide open?

Sighing, I landed in front of the doors and waltzed in like I could have owned the place. Then again, who expects someone to steal a library? I shook my head slightly and walked forward, finding Harry's magical signature with near contemptuous ease - but he was nowhere to be seen.

I didn't say anything as I knew Harry would work on copying all the books that could be pertinent: books on History, astronomy, maps, language, poisons, flora, fauna, and any other things we for sure wouldn't have back home. For instance, we wouldn't be taking any books on their medicine, whatever rudimentary maths they had concocted, or philosophies. Anything we had that we knew would be much more advanced was going to be left untouched - or at least, that was the plan. Potter's always been a bit unorthodox.

That didn't stop me when I nearly felt my jaw hit as I caught sight of what he was doing, he was copying the books en masse with a gemino charm and banishing the originals from whence they came while depositing the copies in an obviously expanded pack. I shook my head as the professor went from section to section doing that all while invisible. But I had another objective.

I drew my wand and laid it flat in my hand, casting point me: vaults. Watching the end of my wand glow faintly, I nodded and set off after it in the direction it sent me - until I walked over a certain spot and it whirled back around. 'Underground… Great.' I sighed and changed the spell, this time hunting for a door to get to the vaults. Surprisingly, I found it rather quickly. It wasn't hidden quite as well as the Maesters probably thought it was – though I did notice another door with a large lock on it as well but thought to come back to it later. I think the one tucked behind a bookshelf would require my more immediate attention. And so, after moving the bookshelf, I found myself face to face with a large, weirwood door that I felt myself raise an eyebrow at. 'Now why would the Maesters, of all people, have a weirwood door?' I couldn't feel any sort of magic coming from it, and my visor couldn't detect even a wisp either. Fortunately, there was a lock on the door – a rather large one at that. 'This day just keeps getting stranger and stranger…' I caught myself thinking as I pushed an alohamora into the black steel lock that went all the way through the door. My eyebrows flew upward at the realization – that was a feat of locksmithing and carpentry that even folks back home would have quite a bit of trouble with.

Stepping through the door was an experience though – it was just a spiral staircase that went down for who knows how long with granite walls. Sighing, I started the trek down. I hadn't dropped my disillusionment charm, but I had activated my night-vision filter on my helmet so I could see in the pure darkness of the staircase but I was using it in tandem with the magic filter. It was time to test an idea. With a thought, I sent a pulse of pure magic out of me from every corner of my body, watching as it bounced off the granite foundation as I kept moving. The idea was to look for anywhere magic was able to slip through, if there was even the slightest crack or slip where a door or lock could be, magic would find it. It took fifteen bloody minutes to reach the bottom of the stairwell… Makes you wonder who actually comes down here if there are that many stairs.

Anyway, I was rather disappointed that there weren't any hidden rooms but what I found down here almost made up for that niggling little annoyance. More bloody books and a few doors under the domed cathedral… Something was wrong here, but what? That's when I noticed it: there were carvings on each door. One had a falling star by a sword, another had a rearing stag, another had a lion while another had a lion that was looking away from the first lion, then there was a sun, another had a spear, then I noticed an Eagle, a griffin, a strange patchwork of dots surrounded by runes that said something nonsensical, a crown, then my blood froze as I noticed another pair of doors with the dragon sigil of House Targaryen but these were the only ones the people here had bothered painting: one was House Targaryen's sigil while the other had the colors reversed. Then I felt my eyes land on a door with the Stark direwolf on it.

Without thinking, I threw the Stark door open and stopped as soon as I did. The room was empty save for a few leather-bound books on a bookcase. I plucked one off the middle shelf and read through the first page quickly, rolling my eyes when I realized it was just a ledger of House Stark's finances and a few random notes – nothing particularly damning, and worse there were no dates - anywhere. But, like Rickard said, House Stark had nothing to hide now that they weren't Kings in the North. I simply shook my head and went back to the main room.

'Stark, Targaryen, Lannister, a tower? Tully, Greyjoy? I think? Uh, wait, that's House Bolton, hm… Definitely will have to look at that. Who the fuck has a portcullis as their damned sigil? Ugh. Anyway… Martell, Tyrell, is that a hand? Baratheon, and Arryn… Interesting. Looks like the Maester's have been naughty little spies,' I frowned at this point though, trying to work out what the connection between each one was though. Right now all I knew was that these were some of the larger houses in Westeros. I shook my head and pushed open the Targaryen's door and nearly felt my jaw hit the floor. There, right before my eyes, were at least fifty dragon eggs, a crown, and books placed on both bookshelves and on podiums.

"Fuck it," I whispered after summoning all the eggs and dumping them into my pack. I apparated up to the surface library, quickly finding Harry who looked like he was getting done with the books. "Potter!" I hissed as I found myself next to him.

"What's happened?" He asked lowly, but calmly.

"Hold onto me, you need to see this," I said just as quietly.

"Alright, give me one second," he said, banishing this round of books back to their proper places as I saw his hand come out from underneath his cloak and land on my shoulder. I nodded and twisted on heel, reappearing in the cathedral-like area as Harry whipped his cloak off and I dropped my disillusionment.

"Brisingr bollr," I muttered, waving my hand as a ball of light appeared behind Harry and me, illuminating the chamber as I strode toward the Targaryen vault once again.

"Bloody hell!" Harry gasped as he looked around the room in shock. "What is this place?!"

"A vault of everything the maesters have stolen from houses around the Seven Kingdoms," I said grimly. "Welcome to the vault of House Targaryen. We're… liberating everything back." Harry's grin was undoubtedly wolfish as he raised his wand and started summoning every single thing in the room to his bag. Strangely, a few things didn't move an inch. The crown and a trio of books. Warily, I stepped forward with my hand drifting to where Winter's Bane would always be and snarled as I remembered I didn't have it. Shaking my head, I summoned one of my daggers to my right hand and approached the crown. I wasn't surprised it was made of Valyrian steel but the rubies embedded into it were probably worth a small fortune on their own. I couldn't sense any magic flowing from it but the books were a different story.

Blood magic.

Vile, horrible, blood magics had been performed over these books. I felt more than heard the growl building in the back of my throat as I tossed the crown to Harry and placed my hand on the first book titled Blood and Fire.

Near instantly, I ripped my hand off of the cover as if it had burned me – it was foul. No, it was beyond foul.

"Get back!" I heard Harry yell desperately and I did so immediately as he took my place over the book, waving his wand over it and chanting as fast as he could. I wouldn't say he was relieved when he was done but he was certainly less concerned. "Sorry about that. It's the strangest thing, I've only felt black magic like it in one other place – well, one place scattered around six times," he said stroking his beard in thought. "It should be safe to touch and it doesn't seem to react to much magic."

"No," I agreed wholeheartedly, "you're right to be concerned. Someone's committed a sacrifice, an unwilling human sacrifice, over this book – more than once if what I'm feeling is right. People have died over this book, hundreds of people. In fact, I've only felt something close to it once in Egypt – Ramses had a terrible little ritual book that felt similar to this."

"Pharaoh Ramses? Really?"

"Really," I said grimly. "The other two don't feel half as vile. They should be okay to take." And so we took. By the time we were finished, every single vault in the crypts had been cleared out and we had stumbled across three more Valyrian swords: one in the room with a tower that had a shield laying behind it, another in the room behind the door with the runes, and one with the sigil of House Arryn. I just shook my head at how much the Maesters had stolen over the years – confirming the worst I had thought of them but damned that I couldn't just out them just quite yet no matter how much I wanted to.

"Damn them," Harry muttered as we stepped out of the room with the Falling Star by the Sword as I flipped through a small book bound in purple leather that was obviously coded in some strange combination of a cypher and a runic language. I had tried every translation charm I could think of but it always came out as nonsensical gibberish. That was the problem with translation charms, you had to have some form of reference to start a translation – even if it was just a single word, it would do the trick.

"Indeed," I muttered as I placed the purple book in Harry's pack and took his shoulder, "ready? There's still more to steal from these grey hooded bastards," Harry just grinned and faded from sight as I did the same. The silent disillusionment was a Godsend when it came to times like this. I apparated us back to the (mercifully, still deserted) library and went straight for the locked door there, opening it with an almost contemptuous, silent alohamora as Harry and I stalked up the stairway. Funnily enough, I had almost forgotten I had my mage sight filter running and was nearly blinded when I threw open one door in particular.

"What the!?" Harry barked as I deactivated all of my helmet's features as I fell to my knees clutching at my helm.

"Urgh!" Was all I could get out as I looked up at the four almost innocent-looking bits of glass sitting on a small table.

"Ben!? Are you okay?" Harry asked as he looked at the table warily. I nodded slowly.

"I-I am," I muttered, "those… Things, are magical," I groaned as I stood up and staggered over to the obsidian things.

"What are they?" Harry asked quietly. I just shrugged as I stared at the glowing, black glass. Unconsciously, I had reached out to touch the object and was just able to before Harry's hand tried to pull my arm away. The glass bauble jumped into my hand without my volition and I felt my mind race out of my head as I saw things that I couldn't make sense of.

A boy thrashing on the ground as another boy – a Stark by the look of him – and an old man missing an eye stared at him in horror. The old, withered man's one eye met mine and the boy on the ground rose as the Stark looked at his hands in horror.

Lyanna, older but still Lyanna, lying in a pool of her own blood while a Stark I'd never seen knelt by her side clutching her hand. 'Promise me Ned…'

A Targaryen girl with bloodshot, violet eyes, on Dragonback burning King's Landing from the back of a massive, angry, black dragon.

Tywin sitting in the dark with a quarrel in his shoulder.

Standing beside a woman who had hair that looked as if it had been shorn – badly. The woman was wearing black with a glass of wine in her hand as a flash of green and a BOOM rocked King's Landing.

Brandon choking as he reached for his sword.

Rickard screaming as green flames roared beneath him.

A body with a direwolf's head sewn onto it being paraded around while a woman rose from the water and stared at two towers on a river as a sickly lion stood between a rose and a hummingbird perching on a smaller lion.

A small girl whose face I couldn't make out was standing over a man in a black doublet, a golden bird pinned to his breast as the girl held a blade of fire as the man clutched at his ruined throat. I watched as the girl changed into a wild wolf. Half her face white as snow and the other blacker than night as she howled beneath a giant holding a broken sword aloft.

Fire rising in the south with a star falling onto a flaming sword as ice grasped down from the north.

And I heard a voice like thunder ring through the land and ring in my ears: The Sword that shall bring the Day. Sword of the Morning, lead them true.

Thirteen dragons, sixteen, fifteen, twenty… A hundred? Roaring in protest as another flew down from the North.

A black dragon wearing a cloak of red and a red dragon with three heads staring longingly to the west.

From the North, I was ripped to the South and East, forced to watch as men and women who walked streets of black stone – some in fine linens, others with collars around their necks, some who were somewhere in the middle – lives were snuffed out as fourteen volcanoes shook and roared their fury as they erupted. I saw one hundred men divided among the mountains with five thousand slaves for each volcano. I was forced to watch as the soldiers forced the slaves to walk into the volcanoes at spear point. I could only watch in horror as the towers of lava leapt from the mountains, dooming the Dragon-lords conducting the ritual to die in a flash of fire as the earth herself roared her fury, tearing Valyria asunder. I saw a dragon to the west, roaring its rage and mourning as Valyria fell. As the fires settled, the dragon sprouted two more heads and turned red as blood - setting it's eyes to the west.

The voice cried again: From life for life. Weep, ye dragons of olde, for thine home never again to rise. Woe upon ye, Valyria, ye mighty city now naught but fire and ash.

To the west of Valyria, a giant in red with a glowing sword in his hand and a woman who was ancient but young stood in fire and shadow as fire raced overhead. Her eyes turned to me and I was whisked to the North.

To the Wall.

It was true. It was real.

I had not seen it with my own two eyes, but the Wall was enormous – and I was beyond it.

A horn rang out and the wall trembled but held firm as I watched men and women – garbed strange furs and a patchwork of wools and other warm clothes – gather. No… Flee? Where were they going? And why were they headed South?

My eyes were turned to the West as I watched a small-town burn. As a Kraken slithered beneath the waves once again.

Back to the East and further North still, I saw a Wolf. A pale wolf with twelve horns sprouting from its head. The wolf was enormous but cadaverous, hair was falling from it and it looked more dead than alive. I would have thought it a walking corpse but it's eyes… I would never forget those eyes. Blue as death and thrice as poisonous, they were hate incarnate and I was terrified.

Until another Wolf came. This one black and strong and massive. The black wolf glared at the white and howled.

The Pale wolf was silent and simply watched as the Black wolf approached a tree.

A weirwood.

From the tree came a sword. A sword given to the Black wolf as a crown of iron and blackened bronze fell upon his head from the branches. I felt my breath hitch as I finally realized what I was seeing.

A Stark.

The Black Wolf was a Stark.

And so was the Pale.

And I heard a mighty voice boom: The Sword to fight the Night.

I was whisked to the South as the wolves clashed. The Black wolf took one of the Pale wolf's horns but was forced to retreat as grinning skeletons with eyes like Blue Stars rose from the ground, threatening to overwhelm the Black Wolf as he ran for the South. Children and men tall as the sky ran beside him as he threw his head back and howled, stopping the tide of Death and Ice. The Wolves stared at each other once again as an army of men appeared behind the Black to match the tide of Skeletons. Another wolf joined the Black, this time a hulking Wolf of Grey. The Black Wolf lowered his head and I swallowed as the Grey Wolf picked up the Black's fallen crown. The Black Wolf glared at the Pale, who was now joined by thirteen smaller wolves made from ice as the Grey wolf retreated to the South with the crown in his mouth, never on his head - and I went with him. The Grey wolf stopped, dropping the crown on a towering stone and turning about to face the North once again but I flew further still, to a rock as high as the sky itself. I saw a man in silver raise a spear over his head – only to be cut down by another in red whose silver hair turned to gold.

The voice rang through the hills: Woe to ye faithless lions, ye thieves garbed in finery of gold. The lance shall fall upon ye.

A storm grew around me as a woman with an axe was subdued by a black dragon as thunder clapped around us – a stag leapt from the brush and beat back the black dragon as the woman hid. But the stag fell to the dragon and the woman was found.

Strangely, a new dragon rose from the South, from a desert, but it had no wings and spewed no fire - it was, for all intents and purposes, crippled. It left behind a sword travelling to the South as an enormous bull and a cloud of bats standing over a broken wolf with wings. But it was not the mockery of a dragon to the east. I saw two Stags sitting underneath a dying storm as flowers and hunters and grapes surrounded it - until a pack of Wolves - led by another Direwolf - and a third, truly enormous Stag leading the charge as they were joined by a trout standing by the River. The fake Dragon fought the Enormous Stag but it was gored in the chest by the Stag's antlers and shattered in the river in which they fought, the pieces being bickered over by a bridge, a woman, an eagle, a bat, and a red horse as the mighty host left them behind.

The Direwolf and the Stag raced down to meet the Mocking Dragon roaring at a walking fire as a white lion bared his teeth. The fire was crushed by a white lion that turned and roared at the Mocking Dragon's back before pouncing on it, killing it. The Wolf and Lion faced each other and snarled before the Stag pranced in and took the Lion's place.

The Wolf snapped at the Stag and turned, bounding from the Stag's presence with six companions - making all haste toward the dying Stags. The Direwolf growled and bit at the flowers, forcing them to wilt as the Stags - the large and small, both grazing on… Onions? - looked up at the stag and walked out of the storm with their heads held high. The Wolf dipped it's head and turned to the South - running with it's six companions while the small stag pranced among the flowers and the large stag was set alight. The six companions charged down the bat and the bull as the sword returned and stood with them once again - but not alongside them.

The voice cried out again: The Storm King fallen, to rise again. The Flower and the Fire shall not conquer the Storm - on Thunder's Wrath.

My head whirled as I was torn off my feet once again.

A pair of trouts, a larger one of silver and one of black argued until the trout jumped into the river and made for the mountains – to a gate painted crimson.

The trout of silver turned to the south as a trio of dragons – red and silver with eyes of purple – flew to a castle nearby. One opened its mouth and the castle that was melted and torn down as the black and gold man within melted like wax as the trident in his hands fell on another broken castle with a crown lying askew and broken. The dragon swooped down to the trout and the kraken who both knelt before the dragon as the black trout turned to face a man of bronze, a man with runes carved into his armor.

My eyes were turned to the south as a tower commanded grey rats to learn. The rats obeyed and then went too far. The rats tore the tower's shield away from it and hid it in their burrow.

The Bastion lost, the Hearth found! The voice roared out in triumph. With fork reclaimed and armor regained, Men shall stand. The Night comes, be ye warned.

The light flickered before I saw a Wolf on the shore, prowling as seven figures walked on the water toward. The image flickered and I watched in awe as a man in bronze armor, a white sword, and a crown beat back men in iron armor as they leapt from their ships.

There was no question as to who this was.

Jorah Stark.

My ancestor.

The Lost Wolf.

I jerked as a new voice sounded from beside me. I turned and simply saw a grey wolf, this time one with a scar across his left eye but it was alive, if only just. Its ribs were visible and looked starved.

"Who are you?" I asked quietly. The wolf seemed to chuckle as it turned its attention back to the battlefield. I almost unwillingly did the same thing as Jorah brought his sword – my sword – up and down on the Andal invaders. Hundreds fell before him as his sword began to glow with light. I felt my jaw slacken as fifty men – all dressed in colors of the rainbow – held up their swords and chanted in prayer. Their seven-pointed pommels acting as their version of the cross. Jorah snarled and launched himself forward, transforming into an enormous, black direwolf as he fell upon the Andals. I felt my jaw slacken as the shapechanger tore into stunned Andals with the wrath of a raging bull. Soon enough, their numbers went from forty-nine to just under half that as he transformed back into his human form, Winter's Bane slicing through Iron as easily as the flesh beneath. Finally, Jorah and one Andal stood facing each other.

The Andal simply knelt as Jorah raised his glowing sword as his eyes flashed the same color, bringing the sword down on the man's neck. Light exploded and Jorah was gone, but the body of the man he slew remained.

The sword returned. The wolf said quietly, its eye locked onto me. You are chosen. Go. Return to your masters.

I felt like I was in freefall as I dropped into my own body.

XXX

As soon as I came to my senses, I threw the glass bauble away from me as hard as I could and scrambled backward – away from the others.

"Ben! Ben! Calm down! I'm here! You're okay!" Harry's familiar voice cut through my panic as I tore my helmet off and met his eyes. "Okay maybe you're not," he muttered as his eyes widened. "You're eyes… they're white, Ben. Can you see?"

"I–" I shuddered, squeezed my eyes shut, and opened them. "I can see, but I'm not okay, prof," I muttered, trembling slightly at the memory. "Let's get out of here." Harry frowned and nodded.

"To the Moat," he said quietly and we were both whisked away from the Citadel – having no idea of the panic we were about to begin when they discovered that they had not only been robbed but their greatest secrets had been discovered.

As for Harry and I? Well, I managed to stagger to the cabin Dacey and I shared and fell into our bed, wrapping my arms around her as I shuddered over the memories.

"Ben?" Dacey murmured quietly, rolling over blearily to look at me before her eyes sharpened. "What's happened?" And I told her everything. Everything that happened in King's Landing, how I was now an animagus, what we found under the citadel, that damned glass candle – that's what she said they were called – and the visions that came with it.

"You were touched by the old gods, my love," she whispered as she stood and walked briskly to her wardrobe, pulling on some clothes that would hold up to the chill. "And we're going to a godswood. There's one not half a mile up the road. Come, we'll walk," she said, grabbing my hand and dragging me to my feet. I was still unsteady, still unsure but I nodded all the same. Together, we staggered through the night and up the road to the Godswood Dacey had found earlier. It took awhile for us to get there as I was shaking and staggering the whole way but, with Dacey's help, I managed. Half an hour later, we arrived at the godswood and I nearly collapsed in front of the Heart tree.

"What do you want from me?" I asked hoarsely, staring up at the face of the tree as Dacey knelt beside me with our fingers still intertwined.

Life.

I froze as the same voice from earlier rang through the clearing like a bell - and Dacey heard it too.

"By the gods," a new voice said behind us. I whirled around with my hand on Winter's pommel - as I had reclaimed it as soon as I walked into the cabin - thankfully I didn't need it.

"Rickard," I said as I slumped back to the ground with my back against the weirwood.

"Benjamin, what has happened?" I saw Harry ghost out of the trees as Rickard knelt in front of me.

"The damned Maesters happened," I growled, meeting his icy grey eyes in the dying moonlight. "We need to assemble the Lords again, call the banners."

"Why would I call the banners? What have you found?" Rickard asked with panic in his eyes.

"The Maesters, the rats they are, have been stealing from the great houses," Rickard's eyes widened in horror as I recounted what Harry and I found beneath the citadel, with Harry withdrawing some of the more damning pieces of evidence - like the crown we found in the Targaryen vault, a sword from the reversed Targaryen vault, and a few books we found scattered throughout.

"Blackfyre!? Aegon's crown!?" Rickard whispered in horror as he held the sword and crown in his hands. "Blackfyre was supposed to be lost with Maelys' death… This was in the Targaryen's plunder?"

"No, it was behind another door with the Targaryen sigil but the colors were reversed," Harry said calmly as I nodded in agreement as both Dacey's and Rickard's eyes widened in shock.

"Blackfyre," Dacey growled under her breath but it sounded more like an oath than Rickard's awe. "I thought that the sword was lost in Essos and the line ended here…"

"Most likely, it was," Rickard said gravely. "But the Maester's found it. I know Maelys fell to Barristan Selmy, all know that story, but before that he led the Golden company for a time."

I couldn't help the bitter chuckle that rose in my throat at that. Dacey, Rickard, and Harry all looked at me strangely as I shook my head at the absurdity of it all.

"I met with Tywin Lannister today to negotiate terms for the castles. We were interrupted by King Scab," I used the term Dacey was fond of and both Northerners looked at me in horror. "Don't worry, I took a page out of the Goblin handbook - only people that I wanted to know what I looked like would remember my face and associate it with Ben Stark. What? Did you think Goblins would constantly wear glamours so they look human? No. Think of any goblin you've met and try to remember their face? Can you do it? How about their height? Dacey, you can, you met Grashnog. How about you, Rickard?" Harry's eyes widened in shock as he thought about that little fact and Rickard looked like he was thinking furiously. "You can recognize them when you see them and you know their names, but not what they look like. Not unless you're in their presence. It's a bit of a manipulated version of a notice me not - I call it remember me not. We know what Goblins are, of course, but no one else has been told yet. Flitwick doesn't use it but you've heard his new nickname as well as I have," I grinned weakly and looked at Dacey and Rickard who were smirking slightly. Flitwick, bless him, had been dubbed 'The Reader on the Books,' because of how he always had a small pile of books under him when he was reading at any table built for men. Thankfully, most people contracted that to simply 'the Reader,' and everyone adored the little man who had been teaching them to read and write - well, all but one in a grey cloak with a chain. I shook myself from my reverie as my grin slipped from my face, "Aerys won't remember who I was. He just knows he interrupted his Hand in a meeting with a man named Krats Neb who was returning a book to Lord Lannister. He demanded I find Blackfyre or Dark Sister but he doesn't know that Ben Stark negotiated with Tywin Lannister today if no one's told him."

"That's… That's genius!" Harry barked with a smile stretching across his face. "You're so teaching me that spell!"

"Sure prof, but not tonight," I said wearily, still slumped against the tree. "We do need to finish raiding the Citadel though… Don't go anywhere near those damned glass candles though!" I snarled.

"Ben, if they affected you like that then they need to be removed," Harry said gently and I just put my face in my hands, knowing he was right but not happy about it.

"Fine, but take Rickard with you. Those visions are still clear as day…"

"Aye, I'll go with Master Potter. I'd say I'd send Ravens but then they'd go to their Maester masters," Rickard said heavily but I looked up at Harry.

"We may have a way around that," Harry said with a grin on his face. "But I'll need to track down some owls…"

"Owls?" Dacey asked rather… well, owlishly. "Why would you need owls?"

"Trade secret, dear," Harry said with a grin before he faltered and I agreed with him.

"We found two more things in the Targaryen vault," I said slowly, getting Dacey and Rickards' attention. "The book first, I think," I said slowly as Harry nodded, withdrawing Blood and Fire from his pack. Rickard's face lost all color as he read the title.

"No… There were whispers the Maesters had a copy of this but no one believed it true…" he whispered.

"A guide to Dragons," he said, still pale and his hands were shaking as he reached out to touch the book.

"Wait, a guide to Dragons?" I asked, staring at the book in horror as something started piecing itself together in my mind. "Even how to hatch them?" Harry looked at me in confusion before he too paled and looked at the book in concern.

"You don't think…" Harry trailed off and I nodded slowly.

"That the Valyrians didn't use just blood to hatch their dragons," I finished as Dacey looked at me in confusion.

"Alright, what in the Seven Hells are you talking about!?" She growled and I looked up at her weakly.

"Blood sacrifice and human sacrifice are two different things, Dace," I started and she looked confused but Rickard looked horrified. "Blood sacrifice can be done by anyone, in fact it's how most people did magic before we figured out wands. But human sacrifice? Life is powerful, my love. Harry can tell you more about it than I can. But what I do know, is that everything has a price and to give your life is the highest payment one can give."

"My mother paid it," he dropped the book unceremoniously on the ground before the weirwood. "She was murdered in front of me, protecting me, when I was still a toddler." Dacey clapped her hand over her mouth in shock while Rickard looked grim. "The murderer was after me because of a prophecy he had heard. He was a Dark Lord, a man so bent on conquest and power that he split his soul to beat Death itself… He failed and I sent him to hell myself," Harry said savagely and I couldn't help but agree with him. "But he wanted to kill me. I was only a baby and he wanted to kill me because he thought I would one day kill him. He was right of course, but that's because he made it so. Prophecy is dangerous, self-fulfilling prophecy even more so. Anywho… My mother stood in front of me, she asked him to spare me and kill her instead. Voldemort, that was his name, demanded she step aside. She didn't. She died and he turned his wand on me," Harry shook his head as he looked up at the weirwood.

"The curse that killed my mother is called the Killing Curse, one of the three most vile curses known to wizard-kind and perhaps the most infamous of the three Unforgivable Curses. To use them on another man was to condemn yourself to a veritable death sentence according to our laws, as they were truly unforgivable. There is no shield to defend from them, no place you can run to be safe from their reach. One is to kill, one is to torture, and one is to control - but we will not speak of those tonight. If the Killing Curse so much as brushes you, you will die. I did not. My mother's sacrifice saved my life. But, like anything, sacrifice can be perverted," Harry growled and I nodded.

"Aye, fel sacrifice was how Valyria fell," I muttered. Rickard and Dacey looked at me as I smiled weakly. "I'll tell you the vision later. Harry? It's time." He nodded and reached into the pack, withdrawing one of the dragon eggs from within. Dacey groaned and Rickard just shook his head.

"How many?"

"Fifty."

"Damn them," Rickard muttered quietly. "As long as I draw breath, you will not hatch them, do you understand?" Rickard said sternly. I just sighed and nodded at the obvious order, getting a slightly relieved look from the Lord of Winterfell. "Tell me how they're hatched."

"Fire and Blood," I said and the man just looked exasperated. I could only shrug. "Fire has power and blood has magic. I can only guess that they need magic to hatch but the Valyrians weren't as strong as they thought they were. Their blood alone couldn't do the trick even with the boost from fire, so they started sacrificing people to fill the gap. They've had to have done it for centuries at least."

"Because of course, they did," he said while massaging the bridge of his nose before he looked up and turned to Harry. "Master Potter, I believe it is time for us to depart."

"I think you're right," Harry said as he upended the pack and unloaded the dragon eggs within. "And Ben, you can take these back to the Moat. They'll be safer there." I nodded in understanding as Harry took something off his belt. "Rickard, we won't have long until the sun rises. We're going to need to do this as fast as possible."

"Understood," the Lord of Winterfell said as he and Harry disappeared in a flash of blue.

XXX

AN: Hey all! Just an update on my schedule, I have chapter 7 for this written and ready to be posted (4/28/21) but the problem is, it's slap in the middle of Finals week. I may not have chapter 7 up until May. Unfortunately, this also means that I really won't have much time to write anything else in the meantime.

This note does not pertain specifically to OFAM - regarding Wolf of the Water Tribe, I have not abandon it. I simply have not had the drive to write on it, but I do have chapter 7 ready to be posted. It will not be going up until I have chapter 8 written as well, which, also, may be as long as May.

Thank you for reading! Hope to see you in two weeks!