Song of A Northern Sorcerer

by ffdrake

Darth Nox crash lands onto the frozen land of the North after barely escaping an ambush from the Zakuul Empire. Alone and without resources and with no hope of rescue, Nox decides to make the best of his situation and attaches himself to nearest available option until he can rebuild his powerbase and influence. And with his arrival, the fate of Westeros will be forever changed.

21. Returning to the North

Well everyone, I'm back! And I managed to keep my schedule despite taking a much needed week off from everything for a family vacation. Hope that you all have been having a good summer so far and staying healthy and safe out there!

Huge shout out to my beta reader and brainstorm partner Tellemicus Sundace. The help has been invaluable so far. And another huge thank you to everyone who has favorited, alerted or reviewed this story so far. Your support is what keeps me going! So if you feel so inclined to leave a review, please do! They really do help me get my mojo going and get the next chapters rolling on. And I also greatly enjoy reading your theories as to what is going to happen next. If you have any direct questions you want to ask me, please PM me as I am not the greatest in responding directly to reviews, but please still review lol. I like hearing from all of you!

Lastly, I do not own Disney, nor am I Lucas or Martin; so I have no ownership of A Song of Fire and Ice, Game of Thrones or Star Wars. This is purely for fun with no profit being made. And with that out of the way, let's get to the chapter! Stay safe out there everyone!

---

Chapter 21

Sitting around the small fire that was burning lowly to not burn the pieces of meat that were skewered above it, Jon Snow—no, Jon Stark—watched as the fire danced across the wood. The flames were almost…mesmerizing. The way they danced across the wood, feeding on it. The way it flowed with the wind. It was almost…beautiful in a way.

"Ah, hells! Everywhere I turn there is another fucking root trying to work its way up my ass! Why can't we sleep in the wagon? Or better yet just leave the blasted thing behind and make for Riverrun. We can't be more than a day's ride at best from the blasted place."

Breaking his gaze away from the flames and the cooking meat, Jon spared a glance towards Theon, Robb, Samwell and their newest addition Gendry, the blacksmith's apprentice that Master Nox had collected as a potential acolyte back in King's Landing. The smith was quiet, even more so than Jon if that was possible. And he was clearly uncertain about his place amongst them. But that had changed quickly into their journey as Robb, showing just how capable of a Lord he would be, was able to invite the timid blacksmith's apprentice and helped him get over his nerves about sharing space with nobles.

"Because, with the size of your head, Theon, you're liable to break the wagon again," Robb joked, earning a few chuckles out of Sam and Jon and a cross look from Theon.

"Very funny, Stark," Theon growled as he sat back down on the ground, trying to find a place to get comfortable. "I still don't understand why she or the other one gets to ride in the wagon, while we lords and heirs don't."

"Because she is a woman, Lord Greyjoy, and a mother of an infant daughter," Gendry answered quietly. "It is the honorable action to take. Letting her ride in the wagon over yourself. And she is watching over Lady Shireen as well as the other young girl under Lord Nox's protection. If you want to be known as the one that forced the daughter of Lord Stannis Baratheon to ride a horse just so he could sit in comfort…That is up to you."

"Not her," Theon scowled. "I'm talking about the other ones. The whore and the girl."

"That girl has a name, Anna. She has been through hell worse than any you can imagine. And Mhaegen? She's not a whore, Greyjoy," Jon shot back, staring hard at Theon. "Not anymore. And admit it, the real reason you're so upset is simply because you've finally met a woman who won't take your coin so you can get between her legs."

Scoffing, Theon waved him off. "At least I can get between a woman's legs, Sno – Stark."

"Gods, let's not rehash this discussion," Robb sighed, rubbing at his head. In a rather blatant attempt to change the conversation to something more pleasant, he turned to their as-yet-silent companion. "Sam, any further ideas about the moving wagons and the tracks to carry them for the North? The King and my father are both watching this project with interest. And I want as much planned out as possible before we reach Winterfell."

The plan his brother was talking about was one that Robb, Sam, and Lord Nox had devised during the Inventors Fair and just before Lord Nox's wedding. The idea was to use self-moving wagons that would travel along tracks to cross great distances at a rate of travel that could outpace even the fastest of horses. The idea was…ambitious. And one that the North could not do on its own even with its newly acquired wealth from Valyria. Well, not unless they wanted to sell off every Valyrian blade to any noble that was willing to buy them of course. So, before they'd left King's Landing, Samwell had laid out the plan before the King with Robb, their father, and Lord Nox by his. The Hand of the King, Lord Jon Arryn, had seemed intrigued by the idea as had a few other members of the Small Council, but the King…well…it was difficult for Jon to get a read on the man. He seemed interested, but purely because it was something new and interesting. Other than that, King Robert honestly didn't seem to care. But, in the end, the King had declared that the crown would help to support this project in the North, provided that if it worked out as well as intended, then the plans would be sent throughout the rest of the Seven Kingdoms.

The Master of Coin Lord Baelish, a man that had set Jon's teeth on edge though for the life of him he couldn't figure out why, had stated that it would be difficult for the crown to find the appropriate funds for such a project. King Robert though had simply brushed aside the concern and declared that effective immediately that a third of the funds that were designated to the Citadel from the crown would hereby be redirected to the Winterfell College to help fund not only the College, but also the Railway Project, as Lord Nox had taken to calling it.

And every night since they'd acquired the King's blessing, Robb and Sam had been hard at work hammering out as many details surrounding the project as they could. Jon offered his own insights on occasions when asked, as did Theon though his was fewer and farther between than Jon's. Surprisingly, or perhaps not when one looked at it, the greatest contributions came from Gendry, who's time in the forge had given him a rather unique perspective that none of them had. And now Gendry was a regular part of their discussions about the railway.

Cracking his neck, Jon got to his feet and quietly shuffled away from his brother and friends and made his way a short distance away from the camp towards the nearby forest so that he could have some quiet. Entering the tree line just enough so that he was out of earshot but still within sight of the camp, Jon sank to his knees and pulled out the talisman from Valyria that aided him in controlling not only dragonfire, but also wildfire as well. Closing his eyes, he sank into a light meditation as he allowed the Force to fill him before guiding it towards the talisman in his hands. He was close, so very close to figuring out the secret behind the talisman. So close to taking that last crucial step towards the completion of the task his Master had assigned to him that he could almost taste it. The…Force matrix he believed Master Nox called it, within the talisman was incredibly complex. But after watching his father, Lord Nox, and Lord Stannis using the large map of King's Landing to mark out wildfire caches he was struck with an epiphany. The matrix was just like the map of the city. He just needed to memorize the map and replicate it. Though that was proving exceedingly difficult as the map was not something one could see and existed only in the Force. But the revelation still aided him in revealing the secret behind replicating the talisman.

Feeling a familiar presence approaching him, Jon's concentration fled as he opened his eyes and stood just as his father, for Lord Stark would always be his father, entered the tree line with him. "Son," Lord Stark called out as Jon turned around.

"I'm fine, father," he answered. "Just needed some quiet for a little while."

His father nodded in understanding as his eyes fell upon the gold talisman in Jon's hands. "Have you made any progress on your task?"

Lord Stark knew of the task that'd been assigned to him by Master Nox. But with his father's limited Force capabilities, he understood very little of just what the task entailed outside of the fact that he was trying to create a duplicate of the relic from Valyria. "Some, I believe that I'm close to figuring it out. I just…It's so close I feel like I can reach out and touch it. Yet it escapes me whenever I try and do so."

"You'll figure it out, Jon. You're a smarter man than most." his father said, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Jon felt his confidence and mood lift at hearing the rare praise from his father. It wasn't that he didn't praise any of his children or Jon. But he did so sparingly, making receiving said praises more meaningful. "Thank you, father. But the relic isn't what you wanted to speak to me about, is it?"

"No," his father responded, shaking his head as a spike of regret rolled off him. "Tomorrow, we will be arriving in Riverrun and see to my Lady wife's final resting amongst her family. And –"

"You don't have to ask, father," Jon said, cutting his father off, "Lady Stark…I knew her feelings well when she thought I was…Even if at the end those feelings faded, I – I won't cause more problems with my presence in her childhood home. Especially tomorrow while she is being laid to rest in the Trident."

His father lowered his head, unable or unwilling to meet his eyes. "You're a better man than most, Jon. And one that I am proud to call my son. Now come, you've been gone far longer than you perhaps realize, and your absence has been a cause for concern for your brother."

Following his father back to the makeshift camp, Jon was surprised to find that his father had been speaking the truth about how long he'd been gone as just about everyone, including Robb, had already long since found a bedroll for the night save for the few that were on watch.

"I'll aid in the first watch," he volunteered as he and his father reached one of the few tents that'd been set up.

Lord Stark stopped just before the tent flap and gave him a once over and nodded. "Aye, you look like you still have a few hours left in you. Very well, wake Gendry as your replacement when you need rest."

"I will, father," Jon nodded as his father gave him one last look before ducking into his tent and letting the flap close behind him.

Alone once more, Jon walked across the camp to another low burning fire where his Master was kneeling and sitting perfectly still. Knowing that his Master was more than likely in a meditative trance, Jon stopped a few paces behind Lord Nox and knelt in a similar fashion and waited for his Master to acknowledge his presence. When Jon had first started his tutelage under Master Nox, he'd made the mistake of interrupting his Master's meditation only once. In response his Master had proceeded to…teach him a lesson that Jon would not wish upon even his enemies. And since that day, Jon had always made sure never to interrupt his Master when he was meditating.

For a time, the two just sat in silence with the only noise coming from the burning branches before them and the wilderness surrounding them. "What is it, Apprentice?"

"Master," Jon replied immediately, slightly startled as his Master hadn't shifted even a single muscle before calling out to him. "I've been meaning to speak with you regarding the…dreams I had during our return from Valyria."

That got his Master's attention as he motioned for Jon to join him beside the fire and turned so that the two would be face to face. "I take it that the dreams have returned?"

"Yes, Master," he nodded, settling in next to his Master. "When we were sailing to Oldtown from the North I had another dream of her. So, I did as you suggested and…talked to the young woman in my dreams. And she, she responded. Her name is Dany, though I do not believe that is her full name. We didn't have a chance to say much to one another before I was awakened. But I've seen her in my dreams twice on our way from Oldtown to King's Landing and once more since. Each time we talk, nothing important but, it's so real. And the last dream I had we – we reached out for one another and – and I swear I could feel the heat of her hand. But before we could touch, I was awoken once more."

Master Nox's face betrayed nothing as his Master scratched at his short cut beard. "Interesting. Lean forward."

Knowing better than to question his Master, Jon leaned forward slightly, giving his Master a better angle as he placed the tips of his fingers on either side of Jon's head. Jon could feel his Master do something through the Force, but whatever he was doing was far beyond Jon's understanding. The sensation lasted only a moment, and when it passed his Master rocked back and lowered his hands, a grin spread across his face. "Well…isn't that interesting."

Blinking, Jon stared up at his Master, hoping that he had some answers for him. "What is, Master?"

"This bond you share with this young, this 'Dany', it is a unique and incredibly rare type of bond. It's so rare that it's almost to the point of being mythological even amongst my people. You two are a dyad in the Force," his Master stated before turning his attention towards the fire and speaking his thoughts out loud. "Such a rare phenomenon. And to occur in two so young. And without ever being in contact with one another. No. There was contact. Brief as it might've you two did have contact. Was that enough for the dyad to form? It must've been…Could this have occurred if you had not? Possibly. But then…no, perhaps not… Curious, very curious."

Biting his lip, Jon waited as his Master continued giving voice to his thoughts, most of which went completely over his head. "Um, Master?" Jon asked hesitantly. "What is a – a 'dyad in the Force'?"

"A very rare form of Force bond," Master Nox answered, turning his attention back to Jon. "Most Force bonds, like those between and Master and their Apprentice, give the two a connection but they remain separate. When a Force dyad bond occurs though, the bonded pair share a single presence, making the two one in the Force. And as such, the power of both involved is increased drastically. It is said that the power of a dyad is as strong as life itself. And more than that, your minds are now linked across space and time. No matter the distance that separates the two of you, you two will always be able to speak with one another. It's a mutualistic symbiotic relationship. The true abilities of a Force dyad have never fully been explored, but it is has been theorized that the connection between the two could be potent enough that the two could pass physical items to one another through the aether of the Force."

Jon could hardly form a proper response as his Master laid what was happening between himself and this 'Dany' woman…whoever she was. But as the full implication of what was happening settled in on him, he had a flash of dark hair and sun-kissed skin. "Does, does this mean that she's my…intended or – or soul mate?"

Despite not having eyes to convey the message, Jon could feel his Master gaze at him with a look that made him feel like an idiot for even asking the question. "No. This isn't some second-rate romance story that your sister loves to hear about. There is a chance that such a relationship could occur, but it is not an absolute. Despite being one in the Force, you are still two separate individuals with your own minds, hearts and desires. It's far more likely that this dyad between you two formed on the will of the Force. Which means that the Force has intentions for both of you…intentions that may require you two to work in tandem even if you never again meet face to face. Interesting…"

Trailing off, Master Nox turned his attention away from Jon and off into the darkness of the night. "You've given me much to ponder, Apprentice," Master Nox stated, rising to his feet. "Though I'm sure you're just as confused as I, perhaps more so. Take this time and meditate on what you've learned. And I will do the same. A dyad is something that I have only ever read and theorized about, Apprentice. It will take the both of us to navigate through this. Well, three now."

Watching Master Nox retreat from the fire, Jon found himself filled with far more questions now than he had before. He was bonded to this 'Dany' woman. A woman he'd only met once before on pure accident. They shared a deep connection in the Force that made them as 'one' in the Force, yet they remained separate. Separate bodies, hearts and minds. Which honestly made next to no sense to him. How could they be 'one' yet 'not one' at the same time? And worse yet, Master Nox, his primary source of knowledge, was just as baffled.

"No sense in waking Gendry up," Jon huffed, rising to his feet and brushing the dirt off his leggings. "I doubt that I'll be able to get any sleep for the foreseeable future. Not with all of this going on."

---

Standing beside his son, his good father Hoster Tully, his brother by marriage Edmure Tully and Ser Brynden Tully on one of the docks jutting off from the south side of Riverrun that overlooked the Red Fork, Ned Stark calmly and quietly took a large bag containing half the ashes belonging to his son Rickon and his wife Catelyn from the Blackfish and approached the end of the dock. After the funeral in Winterfell, the ashes of his late son and wife were split in half. One of which was placed in the catacombs beneath Winterfell. And the other half was brought back to Riverrun by Ser Brynden so that at least part of his wife and son could rest in the rivers of the Trident like their ancestors before them.

Reaching the water's edge, Ned knelt and slowly let the ashes fall from the bag and into the rushing waters of the Red Fork. 'Goodbye, my son. Goodbye, my love,' he thought as the last of the ashes fell from the bag and he rose back to his feet. 'May you both find peace with the gods until the day we are reunited.'

Turning around, he found himself looking at those who had gathered on the dock with him. His son was holding himself up well, but Ned could see and feel the sadness that was threatening to break free from within him. Edmure was trying to put on a strong face, but it was cracking as tears formed in the corners of his eyes and fell freely down his face. Brynden was as stone-faced as normal. And Hoster, well, the Lord of Riverrun was an enigma to Ned. He was completely void. No emotion. No tears. Nothing. It was the same look and feel the man had had when Ned and the Northern contingent arrived the day prior. And it was the same feeling he'd had throughout the day today. 'The man's daughter and grandson are dead. And he feels nothing.' Ned frowned as he placed a comforting hand on his son's shoulder.

"Lord Stark, we need to talk in my solar. Now."

The words were surprising, not just because it was perhaps the longest string of words Hoster had spoken to him since arriving. But because of the, well, urgency in them. Nodding to the request, Ned motioned for Robb to follow them. A curtesy that Hoster did not extend to his own son and heir he noted as the Lord of Riverrun led them back into the ancestral home of House Tully. Not a single word was spoken between the three of them. And even after they entered Hoster's solar and sealed themselves within, the three stayed quiet until Hoster sat down. "Your boy does not need to be present for this talk, Lord Stark."

Ned, whose emotions were already on edge, teetered on the brink of losing control. "Robb is my son and heir, the future Lord of Winterfell and your grandson, Lord Tully," Ned replied evenly, already knowing that whatever was about to be discussed would not be pleasant. "Whatever words you have for me, you can say before Robb."

Hoster's eyes passed over Robb quickly before settling back in on Ned. "Very well. I would know when you plan on sending your bastard boy to the Night's Watch or exiling him across the Narrow Sea."

Ned was sent reeling by the direct question. So much so that the only response he could come up with was a distorted. "What?"

"You heard me Eddard," Hoster said, his eyes narrowing. "My daughter allowed that…stain to live in Winterfell as he grew because you asked it of her. But she was far from pleased with your insistence on raising him in her home. The only reason I did not press the issue was because he was a bastard and had no right to Winterfell over my daughter's children. But now he is legitimized by the King, something you should not have allowed let alone encouraged. How long until he seeks to take that which is not his?"

Ned's shock wore off quickly, replaced by a burning anger he had not felt since before the start of the Rebellion. "Jon is my son," Ned growled lowly. "He has my blood and my name. If he chooses the Wall or to travel to Essos, I will not stop him from leaving. But I will not force the decision upon him."

Hoster was clearly not pleased with the answer. "And how long until his true nature shows itself? Legitimized or no, the boy is still a bastard. And bastards are all the same."

"Jon is not a bastard!" Robb shouted, taking a step forward towards Hoster before seemingly catching himself. "He – Jon is not a bastard, grandfather. He is a true Stark. He is my brother. Perhaps not by way of my lady mother, but he is still my brother by blood and choice. I trust him above all others. If you had even a moment to learn about him, the first thing you would learn would be that he would rather kill himself than bring any harm to myself or our siblings. And as for my mother…I loved her. But I was not blind to her faults, particularly when it came to Jon. But in the end, she changed grandfather. I was there with her at the end. Do you know what some of her last words were? With her life fading, she begged Jon's forgiveness for her not being able to love a motherless boy. Jon could've thrown it back in her face, but he didn't. He told her that he understood and forgave her. So, if Jon wishes to remain in Winterfell, I will do everything in my power and future power to make sure he has a place by my hearth and home."

Ned released the breath he didn't even realize he was holding. His son had just come dangerously close to letting loose a secret that could spell doom for all of them. But, thankfully, he managed to recover himself and fix his near slip. Fortunately, Hoster didn't seem to realize the near slip either as the old Lord of Riverrun just stared hard at Robb.

"Bastards do not change, boy. They only grow bolder when you give them a taste of what they could have. I pray you learn this lesson before more tragedy strikes," Hoster responded harshly before turning back to Ned. "I'm also having my daughter's old chambers prepared. I will have a Septa sent back to the North with you to take over the education of my granddaughters until they arrive."

Ned was again sent onto the back foot as Hoster near blindsided him. 'Did Sansa make these arrangements while I was away…? No, she wouldn't have done so. Not now, at least.' "I was unaware that my daughters would be coming to foster here at Riverrun. Nor have I requested a replacement for Septa Mordane."

"I preempted the decision Eddard," Hoster said coldly, his eyes narrowing at Ned. "Their mother, my daughter, is dead. As is the one sent to teach them how to become future ladies of the realm worthy of their station. I will foster both here in Riverrun and when the time comes arrange for good matches for you to consider for their hands."

Furious didn't even come close to explaining Ned's current state of mind as he stared dazedly at his good father. "You mean to take my daughters away from me?!"

"I mean to see them raised right!" Hoster shouted, slamming his hand on his desk and rising to his feet in anger. "The history of the Starks does not bode well on the raising of daughters! Or lest you forget your own sister? From the letters I received from my daughter, you've done a shit job of raising proper daughters. Well, Sansa sounds like a true lady, even if what Brynden has told me is true of her sudden interest in learning that foul magic of your accursed pet sorcerer. But Arya? She is far from a lady and a true reflection of your inability to raise a woman properly! You will send them both to me! And I will ensure that those girls are raised right and know their proper place as future Ladies of the Realm. And, unlike you, Stark, I am not afraid to use the back of my hand to make sure that the girls learn thei—"

Ned's anger boiled over at hearing Hoster tell him—not ask—tell him that he was going to take his daughters away from him and raise them. Feeling a rushing sensation flowing through him, Ned threw out his hand, palm out, and pointed towards Hoster. The Lord of Riverrun had only a moment to widen his eyes in surprise as he was thrown off his feet and back into the bookshelves behind him. The shelves broke under the force of the impact, sending all the books and other trinkets that were placed on the shelves crashing down to the floor along with Hoster Tully.

The guards stationed outside the door immediately burst into the room, their swords halfway out of their sheaths as they did. But as fast as they were, Ned was proud to see that his son was faster. Before anyone could even move beyond opening the door, Robb reached out with his hand and made a pulling motion. All the guards lurched forward, hands desperately grasping for the swords that were suddenly flying out of their reach and flying across the room. His son immediately flowed the motion up by using his off hand and making a pushing motion and pushed the guards with the Force clear out of the room and out into the hall.

Ned turned to stand with his son, but before either could move or before the guards could recover, a loud hard voice brought everyone to a halt. "What in the name of all Seven hells is going on here!"

Ned saw Robb and the guards on the floor stiffen and refuse to move as the Blackfish stormed down the hall towards them. The veteran of House Tully took one look at the guards laid out on the ground and one look into the room at the destruction which started the commotion and shook his head. "Alright, Lord Stark, what did my brother do to bring about this?"

"Lord Tully informed me that he would be taking my daughters and fostering them here at Riverrun without my consent," Ned informed the Blackfish calmly, far more calmly than he truly felt. "He then insinuated that he would turn my daughters into 'true ladies of the realm.' By force, if need be."

Ned could hear the Blackfish mutter something, but Ned didn't care what it was as the man made no move to call for more guards nor had his hands move towards the sword at his waist. Walking carefully around the destruction within the room, Ned squatted down next to the still recovering Lord Tully. The man's eyes and face were both red with rage as he glared up at Ned. A look that would have at one time had Ned cowering, but now did absolutely nothing.

"There was a time when you frightened me, Lord Tully. But no longer. You are not a man to be feared, but a sniveling coward who thinks he knows what is best for everyone and damns anyone else's opinion." Ned informed Lord Tully calmly. "I married your daughter to honor the agreement between our Houses and to gain the allegiance of the Riverlands against the Mad King. An allegiance you held hostage pending on not only my own marriage, but on the marriage of your second daughter to Jon Arryn as well. Even if I did not know or even love Cat when I married her, love eventually did come between us despite our disagreements. And it is only because of the love that I hold for your daughter and the fact that my children share blood with you that I shall take this no further unless you press the issue."

Hoster sneered up at him, "those girls are of House Tully! And in the name of the Seven I will see them raise as is proper just like what their mother would have want-"

"You have no idea what Cat would want for her girls, Hoster," Ned said. The lack of the old man's title being a deliberate slight on Ned's part. Just as Hoster's lack of title for Ned. "Sansa and Arya may be of House Tully. But they are firstly of House Stark. They are wolves of the North. And when the cold winds blow and the snows rise, the pack weathers what storms may come and survives. You'd best remember that Hoster. For winter is coming. And only a fool makes enemies of family when it arrives."

Rising, Ned purposefully turned his back on the downed Lord of the Riverlands and motioned for Robb to follow him. "We're leaving. Now."

Robb nodded, his eyes holding much the same anger as Ned, but also no small amount of surprise at what had just transpired. The Blackfish didn't look surprised, neither by the attack nor by Ned's decision to leave Riverrun immediately.

"Might be for the best, Lord Stark," the Blackfish nodded sadly as he cast a glance at his still downed brother and Lord. "I'll send some boys to ready the rest of your men and those with you."

"Thank you," Ned responded, leaving the Blackfish to deal with Hoster as he and Robb made their way away from the Lord of the Riverlands.

Once they were well beyond hearing, Robb stepped in close to him and talked lowly so only the two of them could hear his words. "Father…was that…wise?"

"More than likely not," Ned answered honestly, feeling the wolf within him calm slightly despite the fact it was still pacing and hungry for blood. "But Hoster and I…Our history is complicated, at best. One that I will tell you in time when I am of the right mind to do so. For now, let us get our men and horses together and ride North, for I doubt that Lord Tully will be of the mind to host us for much longer after what just transpired."

---

Walking across one of the many stone bridges that connected the various towers of Pyke to one another, Asha Greyjoy took a moment to pause and stare down at the sea breaking against the rocks far beneath. For the past six years, she had been waiting for this moment, the moment when she would once again set foot into her family's home. Yet now that she was here, all that she felt was cold. And she found herself missing the warmth that was Winterfell. Not the weather. Gods no. There was more than once during the previous winter that she was sure the air was cold enough to freeze her nipples right off her tits. But despite the coldness of the air, Winterfell had always held a warmth within it's walls. The warmth of family.

Even though she was a hostage to keep her father in line, Lord Stark had extended that warmth upon her. Lord Nox had taken her under his wing and had even taught her a few tricks and trusted her. And when the time had come for her to leave Winterfell, Lord Stark had gifted her with a ship for her service to the North and had embraced her as his daughter, even if they did not share blood.

What had she gotten thus far upon her return to Pyke, her home? An empty dock with a single message telling her to return to the keep immediately and report to her father. None of her uncles were present. There was no escort. There was no one present. She was left to make the trek up to her father's rooms alone without even a single token fucking guard. Though, in truth, she shouldn't have been surprised. This was the way of the Ironborn. They were not weak people that needed coddling or someone to hold their hand to walk through a keep. But even with knowing that, the sting of her family's absence would not go away.

Making her way to the lord's chambers, Asha didn't bother to knock or announce herself as she marched right past her father's guard and flung open the doors to the Greyjoy family's private dining chambers. Within she found her father and her uncles Victarion and Aeron. Euron was not present, not that she expected him to be. Even in Winterfell, she'd heard of her Uncle's actions which led him to be exiled. Of how her Uncle Euron had raped Victarion's salt wife, getting her with child. And how her Uncle Victarion beat his wife to death when he found out. And then how her father, in a rare instance of showing reverence to the gods, exiled her Uncle Euron to prevent kinslaying from occurring in his hall. The story made her disgusted to think that she shared blood with any of them.

"Father, uncles," Asha greeted the three men as she calmly sat down at the family table, grabbing a plate of food and a cup of strong wine as she did so.

"Daughter," was the only response she got as her father drained the entirely of his glass before refilling it.

Time had not been kind of her father during her time as a hostage in the North. Where Eddard Stark and Alim Nox had both aged like fine strong wine that just demanded to be drank, her father had aged like sour milk left out in the sun. His face was gaunt and his hair patchy and grey. And the scar across his face, one the many that'd been left on him after crossing Nox and the Iron Throne, still looked as if it were still trying to heal even after years. Her uncle Aeron had not aged well either, though that was truly hard to tell as it looked like his hair and beard had not seen a sheer since before her father's failed rebellion. Her uncle Victarion on the other hand had not changed much at all save for a slight greying of his hair at his temples.

No further words were spoken until her father had finished off his third glass of whatever piss-water he was drinking. "I half expected you to return in some fancy greenlander dress and made up like the greenlander whores that prance around thinking they are better than us. At least the bloody stag-fucking-wolves didn't corrupt you that much."

Asha's hand tightened almost involuntarily at the insult to the Starks, but she would not say anything. Not yet at least. "I am no greenlander whore who dances in pretty dresses, father," Asha countered, picking up her wine and finishing it in a single pull before slamming the cup down on the table. "My will is of iron. My blood runs with the salt of the ocean. I am no greenlander."

"Perhaps," her father growled. "But you are still a failure. I see no child with you. And now I hear the sorcerer has found a northern cunt to fuck. You had one simple task, lure the sorcerer to your bed, steal his seed and bare his child that would be raised a kraken to take our revenge. And you have failed. Failed at the most basic expectations as a woman. Pathetic."

The cup in her hand cracked then shattered as she sat there, listening to her father. Her father didn't look impressed by the display, but she could tell that both her uncles were mildly impressed. The accusation hurt, but what hurt more was that in a twisted way he was right. Early in her time at Winterfell she had tried to seduce Nox, but those attempts had failed miserably. Then Nox began his relationship with Nyra and, after getting to know the woman well, she did not have the heart to try and separate the two. Though she would join the two of them should the offer ever come about.

"The sorcerer's will is far greater than other men. He is not so easily swayed by a pretty face, a tight cunt, or a nice set of tits. And I may not have shared his bed, but I do have the sorcerer's confidence. After all, he did choose me to sail the greatest ship ever built into the waters of Valyria in order to raid the lost city of Valyria." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. Well, not all of them. But definitely the part about the Sea Wolf.

"The 'greatest ship', ha. It's nothing more than an oversized piece of shit built by shitty Northern hands," her father scoffed. "But as for Valyria… There might be something to salvage from your failure if you can draw charts to replicate the exact path you took to reach the Valyrian Freehold."

At this, Asha broke the eye contact she'd been maintaining with her father so far. "Such a thing is impossible," Asha said before meeting her father's eyes once more and pressing on before he could say anything. "The land is covered in constant darkness and a fog that is choking like a slow acting poison. There are hundreds of waterways that lead from the sea, each of which is filled with wrecked ships who tried unsuccessfully to navigate the channels only to end up lost. Then there are the creatures in the sea. Slugs that chew through wood and flesh with impunity. Sea turtles the size of ships and the Drown God only knows how many other creatures that want to make a meal out of you. And those are just the ones in the water. Going by land is worse. But even they cannot compare to the…presence of the place. The land itself is almost…alive. And it does not like visitors. The only reason we were successful in getting in and out in the first place was because of Nox and Jon. A voyage without both giving their aid is suicide."

"Is that fear? Or greenlander cowardice I hear from you, daughter?" her father asked snidely. "A true Ironborn does not fear that which calls the sea home."

"It is not fear, nor cowardice, to knowingly and willingly avoid certain death, father." Asha pressed. "And a venture to Valyria without Nox or Jon is certain death."

"Jon…Stark's bastard boy, the sorcerer's 'apprentice'." her Uncle Aeron stated rather than asked.

"Aye," Asha nodded, not liking the look of contempt in her father's eye as he too made the connection.

"Another failure daughter," Balon sneered. "You couldn't tempt the sorcerer. And you couldn't bed a boy whose balls haven't dropped. Your usefulness is starting to fade."

Thoughts of being with Jon were…well, complicated. She wouldn't deny that the young boy she had watched grow had started turning into quite the fetching young man that any woman would be a fool not to chase after. Hells, she'd even been tempted. But on the other hand, he was almost as much her brother as Theon. Thus, the thought of bedding him both excited her and turned her stomach. Not to mention that, unless she severely misread the signs, there was another who had their sights set firmly on Jon and his cock. And the last thing she wanted to do was piss off a Dornish princess.

"The ship you returned with," her Uncle Victarion spoke, turning the conversation. "It is not a Northern vessel. Nor is it of the Ironborn."

"No," Asha confirmed. "It belonged to a pirate in the Stepstones. But now the Black Wind belongs to me."

"After the wolf gifted it to you," her father countered with a hard look.

"I paid the price for the Black Wind," Asha countered back, knuckling the table and rising to her feet to stare down at her father. "I killed her previous crew. I killed her previous captain. I paid the iron price. She is mine!"

Her father just smirked that irritating smirk of his as he leaned back in his chair and made a motion which sent one of the guards scurrying out of the room. "The ship is not yours. Not yet. Your time amongst the greenlanders has made you forget most of our ways. Just having a ship does not make you a captain in the eyes of the Ironborn. And until you are, the ship is mine to decide what to do with. Just as you are, daughter."

Asha did not like the way her father had said that, and her unease increased tenfold as the guard who'd left returned with a man she recognized as belonging to her Uncle Victarion's crew though for the life of her she couldn't name him. "Who the fuck is this?" She asked.

"This is Ragnor Pyke, one of my raiders," her Uncle Victarion answered, making the man puff out his chest like some prized stallion out to stud. "He has proven himself worthy of captainship. And as such-"

"No," Asha hissed, glaring at her father and uncles. "The Black Wind is m—!"

"It is mine!" Her father shouted, slamming his fist down on the table and rising to his feet and glaring right back at her. "Your time amongst the soft greenlanders have made you forget our ways, daughter! You have not earned the right to captain a ship! Not after your constant failures in getting the sorcerer's or that bastard boy's cock in your cunt! You will do as I tell you! The Black Wind will go to Ragnor Pyke! And you will serve as his first mate until I decide that you are ready! Maybe if you actually do the duties expected of a woman…Perhaps you can earn your ship faster."

"I'd be more than happy to help with such and education, Lord Greyjoy, Captain." Ragnor smirked, eyeing Asha from head to toe and lingering on her tits and ass. "My salt wife can teach her quite a lot. That woman can suck a barnacle off a hull when she's properly motivated. I'm sure Asha here will be most adequate choking on a coc—"

Asha moved without thought, turning the ruined cup in her hand over and slamming it down onto the table rim first, breaking it further. Turning before the idiot who thought he had the right to her ship could move, Asha clenched the broken cup tightly in her fist and lashed out at the man. Burying the newly made jagged edge of the cup into the man's throat.

"Choke on this, fucker!" Asha growled, letting go of the cup just long enough to bring her fist back in order to punch the cup, lodging it further into the man's throat.

Stepping aside, Asha let the soon-to-be-dead-man fall to the floor, clutching at the jagged cut that was lodged deep in his throat while his blood left him in a rush. "I am my own woman, and the Black Wind is mine," she hissed, eyeing her father and her uncles. "The next man who tries to claim either had best do it with iron in their hands. Or they will meet the same fate. Though next time I'll use something…duller. Make it hurt more."

Her father and uncles just…stared at her. None of them uttering a single word as the would-be captain of her ship spilled his life blood out onto the floor. "Hmm, perhaps you are not a complete failure. You do remember some of our ways."

"I know the way," Asha said strongly before adding in softly under her breath. "Better than you."

Her father obviously hadn't heard the second part of what she'd said as he calmly sat back down and resumed eating and drinking casually, as if a man dying on his floor was an everyday occurrence. Which, given her family, was a distinct possibility. "The ship is yours," her father said nonchalantly as if they were talking about the weather. "Change out the sail to something suitable, Asha. Then we will talk about where you will be sailing her too. Leave."

Not bothering to even attempt to stay, Asha turned heel and marched out of the room. The rage that'd nearly consumed her was still burning hot as she stormed through the halls of the Pyke, leaving serving girls and guards hurrying to get out of her path as she made her way through. It was only when she was back aboard her ship and within her cabin that she finally took a moment to breathe. She knew that her return home would not be the most…pleasant of experiences. But she sure as hell wasn't expecting this type of welcome home. Making sure that the door to her cabin was locked, Asha made her way to her bed and knelt. Lifting the corner of her feather stuffed bed, Asha worked open a loose panel in the frame of the bed, revealing a hidden compartment the size of her forearm underneath. And within the compartment was a black melted candle made of glass. One of the many that'd been plundered from Valyria and gifted from the sorcerer to her just before she left Winterfell.

Carefully picking up the glass candle, she took a moment to stare into the black glass before letting her mattress fall back in place and moving over to the desk in her cabin. Setting the candle down on its surface, Asha knelt before the candle, her head bowed ever so slightly. Reaching within herself as Nox had taught her, Asha touched into the small well of power within her and channeled it out into the glass. As she raised her head, she could see a faint glow emanating from the glass, making her smirk. "Master Nox, I have returned home. My father acted as you predicted, and I responded in kind. The Black Wind is mine and my place has been confirmed."

The candle pulsed and glowed brighter. "Well done, Asha. You have taken your first step. And now your real task begins."

---

Nox considered himself a very well-traveled man, especially when compared to the locals of the world he now called home. He'd been from one end of the galaxy to the other and had seen and done just about everything one could think of. But the sight that he now saw before him… It was just…wrong. And there was no better way to put it than that. To everyone else it was just a large stone bridge with a castle—several castles—constructed across its length in order to protect it. But to Nox, who saw with the Force and not his eyes, he did not see a simple castle on a bridge. What he saw was just…corruption and a sense of wrongness. And when coming from the man who'd ventured into the Dark Temple on Dromund Kaas for fun, that was saying something!

"So, this is the infamous 'Twins'," Nox commented idly as he and Ned, along with the rest of their retinue, made their way towards the castle that rested on the banks of the river nearest to them. It was indeed an impressive construct. A large stone bridge that housed a castle of equal size on each bank while the center of the bridge was dominated by a large tower twice as tall as either castle. "Quite the formidable structure."

"Aye," Ned replied evenly, though Nox could detect the slightest bit of hesitation from his friend. And given what he'd learned about the Freys and their current Lord, one 'Late' Walder Frey, Nox could understand his friend's hesitation. "Lady Mormont. Stay back with the wagon, Lady Shireen, and the others. GreatJon, Nox, and boys you are with me. Let's get this over with."

The Freys were not necessarily the most powerful house in Westeros, but they had still managed to gain a lot of gold and notoriety over the years because of the fact that they controlled one of the only notable ways of crossing the Trident in the northern regions of the Riverlands. Because of this, they were able to exact a heavy toll on those who were looking to cross. Usually, the toll was in the form of coin. But it wasn't uncommon for the Lord of the Crossing to change his mind and demand other forms of payment in lieu of coin. Most commonly were betrothals to one of his many children, grandchildren, or even great-grandchildren.

Coming upon the eastern bank castle, they were met with a closed gate and more than one weary eye from atop the battlements before them. "Who goes there!" A voice shouted down to them.

The GreatJon didn't hesitate to respond as he nudged his horse so that he was positioned just in front of Ned and Nox. "Can't you bloody well fucking see banners ya halfwit!?" The large man's shout was almost deafening. "See the wolf? And the red mountains? The chains and the bear? This here is the Warden of the North, Lord Eddard Stark, and the Northern Sorcerer Nox are looking to cross your fucking bridge! Now, open the damn gates!"

The man atop the gates disappeared so fast that Nox was sure he left a trail of dust floating in the wind behind him. Within what seemed like only a few minutes, the main gate started lowering, revealing a man perhaps twice Nox's age who looked like he'd seen better years. The moment the drawbridge was lowered, the older man walked across it's wooden surface with a contingent of five guards flanking him. "Lord Stark, Lord Nox…Lord Umber, I presume, and Lady Mormont. I am Ser Stevron Frey, first born son of Lord Walder Frey and his heir. I welcome you all and offer you the hospitality of the Twins."

Nox couldn't help but be taken aback slightly at the declaration. 'This…is the heir to the Twins? By the Force, the fool is old enough to have died and passed on his title.'

"Ser Stevron," Ned greeted the man, nudging his horse closer to the man with Winter staying right by the horse's flank. "Your hospitality is appreciated. However, my bannerman and I must decline as we are anxious to return to our homes. We request passage across the Twins and that is all."

The elder Frey didn't seem at all surprised. "But of course, word of what has happened between the North and the Maesters has reached many ears, my Lord. As have your actions in King's Landing with the dreadful business of the wildfire. And given such events, I can understand your desire to return to your homes as quickly as possible."

"Good," Ned replied evenly. "Name the toll and we will be on our way."

Stevron shifted uncomfortably where he stood, and Nox could feel waves of anxiety and small amounts of fear coming off the man. "Yes…the toll to cross. My father, Lord Walder, knew of your coming and asked that you be brought to him to discuss the toll…in person."

The sense of something wrong intensified as the heir to the Twins slowly made his way back across the drawbridge while beckoning them to follow him.

"Fucking hellspawn piss-sucking Freys," GreatJon spat lowly so that they wouldn't be overheard. "You know what he'll want, Ned."

"Aye, I do," Ned responded with a voice that was like iron. "But that does not mean he will get it. The Freys will have their due for our crossing. But not a copper more."

Once they were past the walls and within the small courtyard, Ser Stevron led them towards a small stable where they all dismounted before handing the horses off to the stable hands. Before they could enter the keep though, the old Frey stopped them, his eyes traveling down to Winter and her two pups that'd followed them into the keep. "Are your beasts…tamed, Lord Eddard?"

Winter's ears tilted back on her head as a low growl started emanating from her throat, forcing the Frey to take an involuntary step back as his fear began to overtake him. "Winter and her cubs are direwolves, Ser Stevron," Ned responded, calmly placing his hand atop the horse-sized wolf's head. "They are the North herself, untamable by man. They are not beasts. But have no fear. Make no ill move towards myself or those with me, and none need fear them. And they stay with those of House Stark at all times. Lest you wish to test their abilities to control their baser instincts?"

The Frey gave each wolf a long look, no doubt weighing the repercussions of demanding that the wolves stay outside the keep. In the end, the man decided that it was better for the wolves to stay with them rather than allow them to wander off on their own and invited them into the keep. To Nox's senses, outside of the keep being built on a bridge he found the Twins to be rather…lacking. Sure, there was a substantial amount of wealth proudly displayed across the walls in forms of tapestries or fancy, painted shields, or other expensive items. But there was no warmth to the place. Walking through the keep, he could only compare the place to some of the households that belonged to the nobility within the Sith Empire that were not in fact Sith. Extravagant wealth but no power, only the allusion of power and importance.

As they were led into the main hall within the keep, the Northerners were greeted to an unexpected sight. Most of the tables had been removed save for the high table and two others. And those three tables were laden with enough food and drink to satisfy a small army. And the only two occupants, besides the serving girls standing at the edges of the room with pitchers of wine, were two individuals seated at the high table. One was a young girl who looked to be only perhaps a few years older than Robb and Jon at best. And the other was an old man that looked like a corpse that'd been rotting for years. And while the young woman wasn't touching the food or drink before her, the old man was digging into his meal with perhaps the worst set of table manners Nox had ever experienced in his life. And that included his mealtimes in the slave pens.

"Father," Ser Stevron said, bowing at the waist before the high table. "I have brou-"

"Aye, I can see them, fool," the old man, Walder Frey, Lord of the Crossing belched as he hastily wiped at his mouth. "Well? Don't just stand there like the idiot you are, son, sit down and get out of Lord Eddard's way."

The younger Frey, though he was still older than anyone else in the Northern party, hastily bowed to his father once more before making his way around the tables and up to the high table where he took a seat to the left of the young girl.

"Well?" Walder asked, motioning towards the feast laid out before them. "What are you waiting for? This feast is for the lot of ya. Sit down already."

Nox could do little more than shake his head. This man had arrogance in spades. More than likely never had anyone ever truly challenge him. In part because, from what he'd read, the man never left this castle. His own family didn't dare challenge him because he was their head of house and the local Lords either avoided him or catered to his whims because they needed use of the crossing. A king of his own making so to speak.

"The offer is appreciated, Lord Walder, but we must decline the invitation," Ned replied, his voice hard and his face set in stone as he stood before the Lord of the Crossing. "We have been away from the North for many moons and are all ready to return to our own homes."

Walder did not look pleased with the denial. But it was a smart move on Ned's part. From what Nox had learned of Walder, while he was perhaps the oldest man in all of Westeros, he was still ambitious and sly. If they had taken his invitation to sit and dine and rest within the halls of the Twins, then the Lord of the Crossing would have cause to raise the price of their toll due to the cost food they consumed.

"What? Are the Lords of the North too good for the food within my halls?" Walder asked, picking up a piece of chicken and biting into it. "You denied my invitation to my wedding with my latest wife as well as my ninetieth nameday, Lord Eddard. One would think you Northerners are too good for House Frey."

'Ninety?' Nox thought as his sight shifted to the clearly uncomfortable young woman sitting beside him. 'And I take it that this is his newest wife? Force…How that man can even still get it up at his age to produce children without the aid of pharmaceuticals is nothing short of a miracle. A terrible miracle, but a miracle nonetheless.'

"Issues within the North required my attention, Lord Walder." Ned replied diplomatically. "I congratulate you both on your marriage and ask the gods blessing on your union."

"Heh, gods' blessing, heh? I've got twenty-two sons, Stark. Gods have blessed me enough. This one here is just to keep my bones warm at night."

Nox had to hold out his hand discreetly to keep Jon and Robb from acting rashly as the decrepit old man reached out and fondled the young girl to his left. And while the girl was not fighting off the old man's hand, it was clear that she was not enjoying his touch at all.

"As you say," Ned's voice had gained a definite edge, signaling that just like his sons, he was not unaffected by the brazen display. "If we could proceed to the matter of the toll for our crossing, Lord Walder? My men and I are anxious to be in the North once more."

Ceasing his fondling, Walder placed his elbows on the table and rested his chin in his hands. "These your sons, Stark? They look like yours."

Nox could feel Ned tensing at the mentioning of the two youngest amongst them. "Aye. This is my son and heir, Robb. And my son, Jon."

Nox could see and feel the desire and ambition rolling off Walder as he licked his lips. "I was incorrect when I spoke of my sons, Lord Eddard," Walder said, still sidestepping the issue of the toll. "I no longer have twenty-two sons. I have twenty-one. One was a Maester at the Citadel. Or at least he was until you and the sorcerer next to you strung him up and gutted him like a piece of livestock."

Beside him, Ned stiffened, but Nox could only shake his head. He could sense no remorse from Walder as he spoke of his deceased son. Meaning the bringing up of him was meant only to put Ned off balance and try to garner some sense of guilt from the Warden of the North. "The Maesters who were executed were traitors to the realm, Lord Walder. Having lost my own son, I understand your pain. But I will not apologize for delivering the King's justice to those who sought to usurp control of the realm through treachery and were responsible for the death of my wife, son and dozens of other sons and daughters of the North."

That was not the response the elderly Frey clearly wanted, given the wave of annoyance coming off him. "You want to cross my bridge, Stark, after killing one of my son's?" Walder asked, trying to look intimidating but failing utterly at the task. "Fine. But the cost…well, perhaps we can mitigate it. Despite the death of a son of House Frey at the hands of the wolves, I'm willing to overlook it and give you passage. And free passage for House Stark for the next generation as well. Provided your eldest son take one of my daughters or granddaughters for the next Lady Stark and your eldest girl marries one of my sons."

Nox had to admit the man had balls. To all but demand not one, but two marriages from the Warden of the North, even if said marriages would provide toll free passage for a generation it was still heavily one sided. And from the cold fury emanating off his friend, Ned knew it as well. "Rejected. We will pay the toll today. But my sons' and daughters' hands are not up for discussion."

"What? Are your children too good for sons and daughters of House Frey? I have plenty of sons for you to choose from for your daughter. And as for your son…I have a pretty girl or two and that is all that matters in the end, isn't it, boy? A pretty face to warm your bed and bare your children?" Walder asked snidely, but after failing to generate a response he snorted. "Fine. If not your eldest son and daughter, then how about your bastard boy there and yourself? I'm sure you will find at least two of my daughters or granddaughters suitable for bedwarmers."

Now Nox was just plain astonished. The man's ambition had clearly overridden his sense of self-preservation given that he was either completely ignorant or just uncaring about the cold rage that was steadily building in the Warden of the North. "My wife of three and ten years has been dead for not even a full year yet and you expect me to take another wife already? No. I have no need for another wife as I have secured House Stark with three sons and two daughters. And as for Jon… His fate and when he is ready for marriage is when Lord Nox determines that his training under him is complete. And not a moment before."

He could feel Walder's greedy gaze shift from Ned to himself and then back. "Heh, you can never have too many children, Stark. There's nothing sweeter than a young flowers honey to have all to yourself… And unlike some women, a Frey girl knows her duty in carrying a son to birth."

Jon, Robb, Ned, and the GreatJon all involuntarily took a step away from him as the temperature in the room plummeted. At the high table, the young Lady Frey suddenly started shaking while Ser Stevron started blowing into his hand, wondering how and why he could suddenly see his breath in the air. And Walder, the old fool was helpless to do anything but stare at Nox as he calmly and slowly took a few steps towards the Lord of the Crossing. With a calmness that surprised even himself, Nox focused his full attention on the old fool who was clearly doing everything in his power not to piss himself. "I do hope, Walder Frey, that your words were merely just a slip of the tongue and not an intentional slight against my wife who lost our child after being stabbed in the womb by a man who sided with traitors and broke the laws of gods and men."

Walder, showing an incredible lack of self-preservation, merely snorted. "Recent events speak for themselves, sorcerer. Though, what more could you expect after marrying a low-born whor—?"

Nox moved without thought, his right hand rising in the blink of an eye as the small coin purse he kept on his waist was shredded as the coins within tore themselves free on his command. The gold flew faster than the eye could follow, crossing the distance of the hall in less than a fraction of a second. The silver cup in Walder's hand shattered and several strands of his hair fell listlessly to the ground as five gold coins cut through both as if neither was there before embedding themselves into the back of Walder Frey's chair.

Lowering his arm, Nox slowly approached the high table. The Lady Frey was cowering against the arm of her chair, making herself as small as she could while simultaneously trying to put as much distance between herself and her husband as possible. Ser Stevron Frey had knocked his chair back, his hand on the hilt of the short sword at his waist. But unfortunately for the heir to the Twins, he was unable to draw the blade no matter how hard he tried as Nox kept the blade within its sheath with only minimal effort on his part. And as for Walder, the Lord of the Crossing was frozen stiff in fear as Nox poured a constant stream of the dark side of the Force off himself and into the old man.

Reaching the high table, Nox increased the flow of the dark side within him, making Lord Frey break out into a cold sweat and for the Lady Frey to faint in her seat. "We came here to pass your bridge and head home, yet you impeded our path. Hoping to use the death of your traitorous son to induce a sense of guilt within us and then leverage our desire to return in order to expand your own feeble concept of power by tying your House to House Stark through marriage. Lord Eddard heard your proposal, and politely denied the immediate request. Far politer than he should have in my opinion. But you took it as a slight. And then you lashed out and insulted my wife. I have killed greater than you for far less."

Pausing, Nox raised his hand, finger extended towards the man's racing heart. "It would be so easy. An old man like you. Your heart is on its last leg as it is. A simple touch with the Force, and your heart would falter and fail. Leaving you to suffer in agony as you clutched at your chest, begging for one more moment of life." The unmistakable smell of urine permeated the air as the Lord of the Crossing lost control of his bladder, the sight and smell bringing a smile to Nox's face. "But, lucky for you, I don't feel like dealing with the fallout your death would no doubt cause. Even if killing every Frey within this castle would be easier than my morning exercises. So, this is what is going to happen. Embedded in your chair are five gold coins. That is your toll, Lord Walder and allow us passage across the Twins. Should you, or any of yours feel the need to impede us further, then I will sink the Twins into the Green Fork with every Frey still trapped within its walls. Do we have an understanding, my Lord? Good."

Turning on his heel, Nox didn't wait to hear the response from the Lord of the Crossing as he used the Force to throw the doors to the hall open, allowing him to march out. Ned was quick to follow his lead, not even bothering to offer the Lord Frey a customary acknowledgement before turning and following Nox out of the hall, leaving the GreatJon, Jon, and Robb hurrying to catch up with the two of them. In the yard outside, all the guards in the immediate vicinity were on high alert, their hands on their weapons. But wisely, all of them thought better of getting in the way of a clearly irate Lord Stark and Nox as they retrieved their horses and made their way out of the keep.

Once they were clear of the walls of the Twins, Ned spoke for the first time since Nox had taken over the 'negotiations'. "I doubt that was as courteous as Walder is used to."

Nox just snorted. "The man needed a lesson in humility. And a reminder that he is but a small fish in a very big pond."

"Aye, leave off it, Ned," the GreatJon added, slapping Nox on the back with a meaty hand. "If Nox hadn't done anything, I would've shoved that fucking goblet of his down the weasel's throat. A first-born son and daughter for just a simple crossing! Ha! Then to go an insult the women of the North…hells. If Maege was there, she would've made sure the man would be shitting pieces of her mace for the rest of his life!"

Grimacing, Ned snapped his horse's reins, urging the beast into a slight trot.

"Master," Jon said, riding up next to him. "What you said back to Lord Walder…about sinking the Twins with everyone in it…were you—?"

"I wasn't jesting, Jon," Nox replied, turning towards his apprentice. "Should the Freys impede our progress, then I will sink the Twins into the river. I won't enjoy it, but I will do it. I made the threat. If I do not follow through on my threat then word will spread. And once word gets out that either I, your father, yourself, or your brother are not willing to carry out on the threats that are made, then your word will come to mean less than pig shit."

Jon didn't seem pleased by the answer, but he wisely didn't press the issue and instead rode in silence beside Nox as the small group rejoined with the rest of those following them north. Sitting astride her horse at the front of the group was Lady Mormont, the fierce Lady of Bear Island had her mace in hand and her eyes fixed solely on the Twins. "So, do we have any coin left to us, Lord Eddard? Or are we taking some simpering Frey whelp back with us to wed an unsuspecting Northerner?"

"The toll has been paid," Ned said, shooting a quick glance towards Nox. "And there shall be no Freys accompanying us to the North."

One of Maege's brow rose as she turned her attention from Ned to Nox. "Forgive me for assuming, Lord Stark, but I take it that the sorcerer here handled the negotiations? Is there a new Lord of the Crossing then?"

"No," Nox replied as everyone prepared to make their way across the Twins. "But Walder's pants and possibly even his chair will need to be destroyed as I doubt even the most skilled scullery maid would be able to get them clean once more."

Throwing her head back, Maege let out a loud deep laugh that sent the nearby wildlife scrambling to flee. "By the old gods, sorcerer… You are something else! If your woman wasn't who she is, then I'd be tempted to see just how far your passion went!"

"Anything is possible, Lady Mormont," Nox smirked as he noticed the gates of the Twins remaining wide open for them and the people within scrambling to give them a clear route across the bridge. "But that's a discussion for another time. For now, let's just get across this bridge and get back into the North before the Late Frey loses what little sanity I scared back into his aging head."

---

Standing on one of the numerous docks lining the bay of Pentos Asher Forrester, second born son of Lord Gregor Forrester, was still trying to reconcile in his mind that what was happening was actually happening as he watched numerous workers carefully unload the cargo from the Northern vessel tied off before him. Barely a year had passed since he'd made his peace with never being able to return to his home after his father was forced to banish him once his love affair with Gwyn Whitehill had become common knowledge. And while part of him despised his father's cowardice for banishing him, time had given him perspective and made him realize that his father had indeed made the right choice in sending him away. And now, here he was. About to board a ship that would return him to the North with his father's and Lord Stark's blessing. And not only was he being allowed to return to his home…he was also returning to a betrothal to the one woman he truly loved and rulership of his own keep! And if that wasn't enough of a twist of fate, the one aiding in his return home was none other than Domeric Bolton, the exiled son of the now eternally disgraced Roose Bolton. If anyone had any doubts that the gods had a twisted sense of humor, they need only look at him to erase such doubts.

"I've never seen a vessel quite like this one Asher."

He didn't need to look beside him to know who was speaking. After all, the two had been almost inseparable since they came across one another three moons ago when he was on the road to Meereen. "Not surprisingly Beskha," he said to the woman who had saved his life almost as many times as he'd saved hers. "The Wolf's Howl is a scaled down version of the Sea Wolf, the dreadnaught that was designed by the Sorcerer himself. And it's probably the first one of its kind to actually leave the North."

"Designed by the Sorcerer, hmm?" Beskha hummed, her interest in the ship much more noticeable, though obviously not because of any interest in the sea. "Tales of that man have spread far even here in Essos. A sorcerer greater than the Warlocks of Qarth. A statesman who can talk circles around even the representatives from the Iron Bank. And a warrior without equal while he holds a blade in his hand. There are even some, mostly those fire burning fanatics, that even consider him some long-lost prophet come to deliver the people from the darkness of their sins. Though some of the more…entertaining tales say he is sin itself and partakes regularly in any and all delights offered to him."

Shaking his head, he took a wide step away from his friend to give her a wide breadth. "Careful now, Beskha. Don't want you to have to wring out your small clothes before we make way. And besides, best put those thoughts to the side. Last I heard, he had a woman who is now his wife. By all accounts, she is not someone you want to trifle with and not just because she is married to the sorcerer."

Beskha merely shrugged. "Hasn't stopped me before. Him having a wife just makes it even more exciting. Coming from experience here, Asher: there are few things in life that can top having a go at a husband and his wife at the same time."

Shaking his head at his friend's antics, Asher left the woman sellsword to her fantasies as he walked down the length of the dock to… Well, he wasn't quite sure just what he was going to do. He wasn't even sure what he could do now seeing as how the dock hands of Pentos and the sailors of the North seemed to have had a good handle on the unloading of the ship. So, instead of helping with the manual laboring, Asher was left with nothing more than to think over his life. His banishment. The months he'd spent in Essos trying to start a new life. And then his fated run in with someone he couldn't even remember in Volantis who did little more than hand him a letter stating that his banishment had been lifted and that he was to make all haste for Essos and seek out the other exiled Northern who would see to his return home.

He'd been more than slightly skeptical at the time, as had Beskha, and had initially dismissed the strange letter and the one who delivered it to him. But after a few days of fighting tooth and nail just to get enough to fill his belly, his desire to return home won out and he and Beskha left Volantis behind and made for Pentos. Ideally, the two would've traveled by ship from Volantis to Pentos as it was the faster and safer option to take. Unfortunately, that option was not available to them as neither had enough coin for even one of them to book safe passage, let alone both. So, they were left with no other option than to walk. Which wasn't a very attractive option as the roads in Essos were plagued with Dothraki, slavers, bandits, sellsword companies, escaped slaves or just plain idiots with a blade and nothing left to lose.

But for the first time in his life the old gods of the North seem to take pity on him. They had managed to complete the long walk from Volantis to Pentos with only a single short skirmish against a handful of bandits. Which in and of itself was a blessing because they were able to liberate a couple of horses from the fools. Then there was his meeting with the Northerner living in exile, Domeric Bolton. To say their meeting was tense was an understatement. At least from Asher's perspective. While having never met the heir to the Dreadfort before in his life, the man's name was enough to put Asher on edge. But surprisingly, Domeric was about as far from a Bolton as a Stark was from a Tyrell. He was actually…courteous. And for some reason seemingly completely at ease with his lot in life, which now dictated that he live out the rest of his days here in Essos. 'A chance to start anew,' Domeric had explained to him when Asher pressed the issue. 'Away from the stigma that my house has unfortunately placed upon ourselves over the years.'

Asher could do little but agree with the sentiment. Even in the North, the Boltons garnered little love from the people. Fear, yes. But love and respect? Those were aspects that the Boltons never had. And it was the reason why they were never able to overthrow the Starks no matter how many times they tried to do so. And Asher could admit that Domeric actually had a good thing going in Essos. He'd only been in Pentos for a few moons or so, and already he'd managed to become the primary merchant that dealt with the Northern trade in glass and other items that the North produced that were considered 'exotic' and therefore coveted by the people of Essos. He'd garnered more coin in a moon's turn than Asher had seen in his entire life. Enough to not only buy a decently sized manse but to also purchase enough 'servants' to staff it as well. Hells, the man even had enough coin left over to purchase a few Unsullied guards as well. While the exiled Bolton's sudden wealth was something that many would wish for, Asher was not one of them. Coin was all well and good. But he knew from experience the traders of Essos were ruthless. Especially those from the Disputed Lands. By trading in Northern glass and other exotic exports, Domeric was brazenly thumbing his nose at Myr and more than a few other suppliers. And Asher would be willing to lay down a fair amount of coin to say that the man already had at least one contract out on his life.

But despite that, he still felt no small amount of resentment towards the exiled Northerner. Asher had been exiled and had to leave the North with only the clothes on his back, a sword, and an axe. Domeric gets exiled, and the bastard gets set up as a wealthy merchant with premier trading rights with the North.

'And speaking of the bastard…' Asher thought as he watched Domeric appear at the edge of the docks with two Unsullied guards flanking him on either side.

The exiled Northerner took his time in examining each of the carts that were being loaded up, which was understandable considering just how much coin was being invested in this transaction. Seemingly satisfied, Domeric gave off a few sharp commands which sent his servants scrambling to get the carts moving to their next destination. "Lord Bolton," Asher greeted the man as the ex-heir to the Dreadfort approached him.

Domeric appeared to either not notice his tone or he just didn't care. And given the history of his family, Asher was willing to bet it was the latter. "I'm not a Lord anymore, Lord Forester. At least not one that is recognized by Westeros standards. My father's folly saw to that." Domeric greeted him cordially, his hands behind his back as he joined him in watching the Northerner's begin preparing the vessel for their eventual return trip to the North.

"Yeah, well…you'll forgive me for not shedding a tear over that," Asher replied, trying his best to keep his tone neutral. Not an easy feat considering it was because of the Bolton's relationship with the Whitehill's that was the true tipping point in his father's decision to send him into exile.

"Few did," Domeric shrugged, seemingly unfazed. "Even I struggled to mourn his passing after what he did. And even then, it was more over the family that I lost rather than the individual himself. But enough of the past, I would speak now of the future. This ship will be returning to the North at first light tomorrow. Until then, I would like to purchase the services of both yourself and your sellsword companion. One hundred gold dragons a piece for the night."

Asher eyed the Bolton warily. One hundred gold dragons was certainly nothing to scoff over. But the question was: what job for a single night was worth such an expense? "What's the job?"

"Nothing untoward I assure you," Domeric replied. "Tonight, after the sun goes down, the cargo for the return voyage North will be arriving. And while I have taken many precautions, there is still the outside chance of things potentially going wrong. Having two extra skilled blades standing guard will put my mind at ease."

"I see," Asher mumbled, trying to piece together what this 'cargo' could be, but failing to do so. "And what is so special about this cargo that it requires loading at night and extra swords to make sure that nothing goes wrong?"

Domeric didn't move his body, but Asher could see his eyes darting around the docks. "Somethings are best left unsaid, Lord Forrester. You will find out for yourself tonight if you take the job. Or tomorrow when the ship set's sail. Only should you find out in the morning, you will find yourself without the hundred gold dragons. Now, do we have a contract, or no?"

Asher was still uncertain about all of this, but one hundred gold dragons for both himself and Beshka for a simple night of guard duty was enough to put his uncertainty aside for now. "Very well," he nodded, holding out his hand. "We have a deal."

Domeric took his hand and gave it a firm shake before pulling out a light purse and handing it off to him. "An advancement of twenty gold dragons for the two of you. Do whatever you two wish to do for the rest of the day. But I insist that you both are sober by the time night falls."

"Don't worry," Asher replied lightly, giving the purse a shake and smiling at the sound of coins clinking within. "Beshka and I are professionals. We know what's expected of us."

The former heir to the Dreadfort gave him one last look before bidding him farewell and leaving the docks. Once he was gone, Beshka strode up to him, her eyes firmly attached to the small purse in his hand. "What happened?"

"We've been hired to oversee the loading of the ship tonight after the sun sets," Asher explained, opening the purse and separating out ten gold dragons which he then handed over to her. "One hundred dragons apiece, and twenty as an advancement."

Beshka eyed him warily as she took the offered coins. "A hundred dragons apiece…to guard the loading of a ship during the night?"

"Yeah," Asher nodded slowly, pocketing his share of the advancement. "I don't trust it either, but still. A hundred dragons is still a hundred dragons. And the ship sails at first light, so it's not like we'll be around for long to face whatever consequences come of…whatever in the hells is going to happen."

Beshka pursed her lips in thought then shrugged. "You're right. But when this shit all goes tits up, I'm blaming you for getting us into the mess. But before that happens, I'm going to go find the best and most expensive whore in the city to entertain myself with before nightfall."

"Who needs the best whore's when the cheaper ones are the most fun?" he called out as his friend made her way down the docks.

Laughing, Beshka shook her head and turned around to face him while still walking away. "See, I knew that I liked you for a reason!"

Shaking his head, Asher decided to indulge himself in a cup or two as well before nightfall and made his way off the dock to find the nearest tavern for a cup and bed for a few hours. When night had finally fallen upon Pentos, Asher made his way back to the ship that would soon be taking him home. Unsurprisingly, Beshka had beaten him back and was sitting at the end of the gangplank sharpening one of her swords. What was surprising though was the fact that it seemed like the entirety of the crew that sailed the Northern ship were also ready to aid in whatever was about to go down.

"Beshka," he greeted her at the end of the dock. "Any coin left in your purse?"

Smirking, Beshka sheathed one of her blades. "I know how to stretch my coin, Asher. The finest whore I could find who could do the most amazing feats with her tongue along with the finest bottle of wine…and I still have most of my coin."

"A bottle of wine?" Asher questioned, giving her a look. "Are you sober?"

"I must be," Beshka shrugged. "You're still not pretty enough to fuck."

Shaking his head, Asher turned and sat down on an overturned crate next to Beshka. "So, any signs of our host, cargo, or trouble?"

"No, no, and no," Beshka answered immediately before looking up and sighing. "Almost makes me wish I'd stayed in that whore's bed for the night. Doubt that young lad…Bolon or whatever, would even notice if one of us wasn't here tonight."

Just as he was about to comment, he noticed something. A shifting of a shadow out of the corner of his eye. Tightening his grip on the hilt of his sword, he scanned the pier with a critical eye until he caught sight of what he'd seen. "Well…a night with a whore would be pleasurable. But that aside, I don't think tonight is going to be boring."

Blinking, Beshka looked up at him before following his line of sight. "Oh, fucking wonderful," she muttered, rising to her feet with Asher as no less than a dozen men started coming out from the shadows.

Drawing his sword, Asher took a few steps down the dock while behind him he could hear his fellow north men start scrambling about their ship. At first he thought the intruders were a sellsword company given their number, but as he looked them over he noticed that none of them were wearing any form of armor and only one carried a sword while the others had only axes and daggers that were in rough shape. 'Bandits. Or just an unfortunate lot looking to make a quick bit of coin by plundering a ship.'

"It's late out for an evening stroll, boys," Asher commented, as he and Beshka approached the group near the end of the dock. "Best you all turn around and head home and we can all rest easy tonight and wake in the morning."

The mismatched group of thieves looked from Asher and Beshka to the ship and then back again. "Sellsword?" The only one with a sword asked with a thick accent.

"For the moment," Asher replied. "Now, how about you lot just turn around and get the fuck out of here before something bad happens to you?"

The man in the lead didn't seemed deterred, and neither did those who stood with him. Though whether that was because they didn't understand him or not, he didn't know. "No need fight," the man with the sword said, pointing towards the ship. "Take ship, we pay you. Much coin be had. Split. Even between us."

"Yeah, that isn't how this works," Asher said slowly, readying himself for the fight that he knew was inevitable now. "A sellsword turning so readily on the one who hired him or her is a sure way to end their time as a sellsword."

The man with the sword narrowed his eyes and pointed his rusted sword towards him. "Two. Two-and-ten. Join. Or die now."

Turning his body so his sword arm was in front of him, Asher slowly reached to the small of his back where he kept a throwing dagger with his off hand. "Let me think about it," he said, drawing the dagger. "How about…fuck off and die."

Before anyone could move, Asher brought his left around and threw the dagger as hard as he could. The blade went end over end before coming to a stop right in the throat of the man nearest to the leader with the sword. The leader yelled out something in a language Asher did not understand before raising his blade and charging at the two of them with his 'men' right behind him. Not that it did them any good, as the sailors onboard the Northern vessel had not waisted the time Asher had given them. Before the would-be attackers could even cover half the distance across the dock, the sailors on board the ship all stood up from their crouched positions behind the railing, bows in hand and arrows knocked. Being sailors first, they weren't perhaps the best shots out there, but they still did their part in killing off half the attackers before they reached Asher and Beshka. And from there, it was all but over. Despite being outnumber three to one, Asher and Beshka had experience in fighting whereas their foes had none. Beshka was able to kill two with her first strike. The only one that proved to be any sort of challenge at all was the one who'd brought a sword. But even then, Asher was able to disarm the man and claim his head in less than five moves.

"Pathetic sobs," Beshka spat, kicking a now headless body off the dock and into the water.

"Aye," Asher agreed, using his foot to push the ringleader's corpse into the water. "Still though, makes me wonder what the hell Bolton is sending back to the North. Whatever the hell it is, it's apparently worth enough to make these fools risk both the sailors onboard and the city watch to claim it."

"Well, I think you'll soon have your answer," Beshka said, using her bloodied sword to point towards the end of the dock.

Following the path of her blade, Asher found no less than a dozen covered wagons escorted by perhaps a dozen more Unsullied walking towards them. And sitting on the lead wagon was Domeric Bolton. Though Asher's eyes were drawn far more to the beautiful older woman sitting on Domeric's left. He loved Gwyn and she was to be his wife, if Domeric was to be believed, but that didn't mean he was blind or couldn't appreciate beauty when he saw it. 'By the gods old and new…who is that?'

"You're timing is terrible, Bolton," Asher called out, accenting his point by kicking the last of the freshly made corpses into the water. "You missed all the fun."

"You and I have different definitions of the word 'fun,' Forrester," Domeric said as he and the beautiful woman dismounted from the wagon, the later immediately moving around to the back as Domeric approached Asher and Beshka. "Though, it seems I was correct to hire you two for extra protection tonight. I'll have to investigate just how word of the loading time leaked out… This cannot happen again. Too much is at stake for us to fail."

"Right," Asher said slowly, sheathing his sword. "Well, if so much is at stake, then perhaps you wouldn't mind letting us in on the reason for the late-night loading of the ship and the extra guards?"

Domeric looked around and then motioned for Asher and Beshka to follow him around to the back of one of the wagons where the beautiful woman was standing and speaking in a foreign tongue. "I can do better than 'one' reason, Asher Forrester. I can give you seventy-three reasons why we are doing what we are doing."

Confused by the cryptic statement, Asher peered around into the back of the covered wagons and immediately took a step back. The wagon was full of…people. Most were in a sorry state. But the one thing he noticed was the facial markings on perhaps half of the people in the wagon that were an immediate tell as to just who, or rather what, these people were.

"Slaves," Beshka breathed for the two of them, her hand traveling down towards the hilt of her sword. "And here I thought you Westerosi were against slavery."

"Westeros has no tolerance for slavery, the North even less so," the woman said, her voice almost like a song to his ears. "And these people are slaves no longer. They have risked everything to break their chains and free themselves. And now we are going to help them find a new life for themselves and their families in the North. Free from slavery."

Stepping back, Asher watched as the woman spoke once more in a foreign tongue to the former slaves. One by one, the slaves all started climbing out of the back of the wagon, clutching whatever meager belongings they had, if they even had any to begin with. Asher was no novice when it came to slaves, he'd seen more than his fair share since arriving here in Essos. But as he watched these slaves pass him by, he noticed something in them that he hadn't seen in any other slave. A light in their eyes with a slight smile upon their faces.

'Hope,' he thought, as he watched the former slaves happily make their way towards the ship that would be taking them to freedom. Upon greeting them with open arms, the sailors helped them get situated. 'They have hope. Their lives won't be easy by any stretch of the imagination as the people of the North are weary of outsiders. But still…it will be a far sight better than living as a slave until the day they die.'

"And just who are you?" Beshka asked, her gaze focused on the beautiful woman. "This one's woman or something?"

"No," the woman answered immediately as if it were a simple fact. "I am Voice. And that is all you need concern yourself with."

"She's right in that regard," Domeric added as another group of former slaves were helped down and moved towards the ship. Asher also noted that there were several chests and other objects being loaded up as well, which meant that the transporting of former slaves wasn't the only cargo that was going to be taken across the Narrow Sea. "Your part in what is going on here in Essos is now over."

Blinking, Asher finally realized just what was going on. It wasn't chance or good mind for trade that allowed Domeric to take over the glass trade and other trades between Westeros and Essos here in Pentos. But rather, he was set up to do so. And in exchange he was filtering freed or escaped slaves out of Essos and into Westeros. A very dangerous task, as even here in Pentos where slavery was technically illegal it was still a crime punishable by torture and death to help abscond with slaves.

"Maybe I was wrong about you Bolton," Asher chuckled as the last of the slaves were loaded up onto the ship. "You've got stones the size of the fucking Wall."

"Or a complete lack of sense," Domeric smirked as his Unsullied guards closed the wagons and took up positions flanking Domeric. "May the old gods watch over you, Forrester. And may you and yours find fortune and long life."

Smirking, Asher reached out his hand and clasped arms with Domeric. "You as well, Bolton. You as well."

---

Riding through the East Gate of Winterfell, Eddard Stark kept his face as neutral as he possibly could as he tried to hide just how relieved he was to return home. They'd only been gone for perhaps two moons at best, but still. That was two moons away from his home. Away from most of his children who needed him now more than ever before with the loss of their mother. 'Cat.' Just thinking about his lost wife was enough to put a damper on his elation at returning home. For she would no longer be here to welcome him home. To take him into her bed at night. Pushing such thoughts aside, Ned kept his focus forward as he led their small caravan through the walls of Winterfell and into the keep proper.

Once they were within the walls, Ned immediately felt the warmth of Winterfell wash over him, as well as the near deafening sound of hundreds of smallfolk cheering for their return. Behind him, he could sense both Jon and Robb shift uneasily in their saddles as they tentatively waved to the smallfolk that were crowded along the street and leaning out the windows of their homes.

"Is it always like this?" Robb asked, just loudly enough so that Ned could hear him over the cheering of the crowd.

"Only when your people have a reason to celebrate your return," Ned replied calmly, raising his hand and acknowledging some of the smallfolk as they rode through the streets of Winterfell towards the inner keep.

In truth, this was only the third time Ned had received such a welcome. The first had been on his return from Robert's Rebellion and the toppling of the Targaryen Dynasty. The second had been upon his return from putting down the Greyjoy Rebellion. 'And now I've put down a pseudo-rebellion by the Maesters,' he thought morosely. 'Am I to be cursed to spend my life either participating in or putting down one rebellion after another? Can I not know a time of peace for myself and my children? Perhaps Nox is right. It is in the very nature of man to fight. To strive for that which he does not have and if he cannot claim it, to try and take it by force. That only the dead have truly seen the end of war? Such a bleak outlook. But now after thirteen years and three rebellions I cannot help but think that he is right. As he usually is.'

Making their way into the inner keep, Ned's sour mood disappeared as fast as water in Dorne as he gazed upon the small army of people that were assembled in front of the great hall of Winterfell. It seemed as if every servant in the keep had been brought out to welcome them home. He could also see the growing number of students of Winterfell's College standing tall and proud beside Maester Luwin. And it was clear that his house guards, under the direction of Jory and Ser Rodrik no doubt, had spent the night cleaning and preparing their arms and armor. But his attention was not on the servants, the students, or even his house guards. No. His attention was reserved solely for the small group of seven that were standing at the forefront of the gathering.

Of those gathered at the forefront there was one that seemed out of place, but he assumed that Lady Talisa had more than earned her place at his daughter's side. Especially considering he'd sought the foreign lady out before their departure and had specifically asked her to give aid and console to his daughter whenever requested. Next to her were Jory and Ser Rodrik, both men standing tall and proud. And standing next to them was the woman he'd entrusted his children and Winterfell too, the 'former-serving-girl' as many called her, the Stewardess of Winterfell Lady Nyra Nox. And standing just in front of those three were the ones who had his undivided attention. Bran was near bouncing in place, his eagerness to rush towards them so great that Ned could feel it. Arya was…well…Arya. His little wolf had forgone the dress she should've been wearing and was instead wearing fine leather britches and a tunic to match. And in the lead was his eldest daughter, Sansa. Gods, she looked so much like her mother right then, standing with her head held high with her red hair braided and slung over her right shoulder. His red wolf had grown so much in his absence. And standing next to each of his children where their direwolves, each of whom were shaking in place from excitement.

Grey Wind and Ghost broke ranks first, running with excited yips towards their siblings, who didn't hesitate to rush from his children's sides to meet their brothers halfway. The yard broke out into a mixture of laughter and excited yipping as the five direwolf pups reunited with one another in a massive tangling of fur and limbs. Beside him, he could feel Winter's amusement and, with only the slightest of mental pushes from Ned, the mother of the pups trotted across the yard to join with her children in their reunion.

"Father," Sansa curtsied, and action that was followed by the rest of those assembled as Ned dismounted from his horse. "Brothers. Welcome home. Winterfell and the North is yours once more."

Ned knew what curtesy called for, but it could go to the hells for all he cared. Stepping forward, much to his daughter's surprise, Ned quickly crossed the distance between them and scooped up his eldest daughter in a hug and spun her around in a quick circle. "Father!" Sansa yelled, though he could tell there was more mirth than anger in her cries as small peals of laughter escaped her as he spun her around multiple times.

Setting her down, he repeated the same process with Arya. Only his little wolf didn't wait for him as she leapt up into his arms with a grin so large it threatened to split her face in two. Bran was next, his youngest child bouncing in place as he waited for his turn while Sansa and Arya went to welcome their brothers' home. As he let go of Bran, he noticed that Nox had quietly strode past him and was in the process of…thoroughly reconnecting with his wife. A scene that brought both joy and no small amount of pain to Ned.

"There are a few that I wish to introduce you three too," he said, turning and motioning for three individuals to come forward from the line of the wagons.

Lady Shireen Baratheon, who was perhaps the only one of the three that was used to these situations, immediately took the lead and walked forward with her head held high while Gendry, Anna and Mhaegen slowly trailed after her. "This is Lady Shireen Baratheon, first daughter of Lord Stannis Baratheon," Ned introduced the young girl to his children. "This lad here is Gendry of King's Landing. This young girl is Anna of King's Landing. And this young woman is Mhaegen of King's Landing along with her infant daughter Barra. Lord Nox will be taking Lady Shireen, Gendry and Barra as his students in the Force and teaching them alongside yourselves while Mhaegen and Anna will be under Lord Nox's charge."

Bran's face lit up at the prospect of more people learning the ways of the Force with him, while Arya's took a downturn. No doubt she was of the mind that because there were now more looking to learn the ways of the Force that her lessons would lessen. Sansa however didn't miss a beat as she immediately gave a welcoming curtesy, which Shireen and Mhaegen returned almost perfectly while Gendry took a moment longer before giving her an awkward bow in return. "Welcome to Winterfell, Lady Shireen. And you as well, Gendry and Mhaegen of King's Landing. I trust that, as we will all be students of Master Nox for a time, that we will come to know each other well."

"Thank you, my Lady," Shireen responded with all the expected courtly etiquette. "I look forward to getting to know yourself and your siblings much better in our coming years together."

"Yes, milady, thank you," Mhaegen followed up, curtseying again while holding onto her infant daughter.

All eyes turned to Gendry, the strong lad suddenly looking very unsure of himself now that he was the center of attention. "Aye, milady, ummm – I uh…"

"Oh, give off it already, stop stammering and just say 'thank you'," Arya snorted, earning a roll of the eyes from Sansa at the breaking of decorum.

Gendry's face turned redder than a smith's forge. "Aye, um – thank you, milady Stark."

Sansa, taking pity on the young man, gave him a smile that almost seemed to freeze the lad in his spot before she turned back to him, a note of apprehension coming upon her face. "Father, there have been…several ravens that have arrived since you left King's Landing. And…well…I believe there are things that must be spoke of in private."

"Lady Sansa is quite right, milord," Lady Nox said, sounding more than slightly breathless as she finally managed to partially free herself from her lord husband, though she didn't look like she was trying too hard to fully break free of his hold. "There are a number of things that need your immediate attention. Rooms have been prepared for our guests within the Sorcerer's Tower. And with your leave, I will show them to their rooms."

Ned just barely managed to hold in his sigh. He'd wanted nothing more than just to spend the rest of the day and night relaxing with his children. But apparently that was not meant to be. "Very well, let us go somewhere quiet to speak." He said to his children before turning and addressing the crowd. "All of you, thank you for your warm welcome. My sons and I thank you all. Now please, return to your duties."

Hearing the dismissal, the servants of Winterfell immediately began to disperse leaving the courtyard near empty in only moments. "Lady Nox," Ned said, turning towards his Stewardess. "Please see to the placement of our guests and then the rest of the day is yours to do with as you wish. Nox… Please try and remember that your wife still has duties to perform tomorrow. I will need her coherent and able to walk properly."

"As you say, Lord Stark," Nox replied, a grin on his face as he effortlessly scooped his wife up into his arms with one arm bracing her shoulders and the other under her knees. "Call if you need anything, Stark. But don't call." And with that, Nox turned and moved away so fast Ned could've sworn he simply disappeared.

Pushing aside the pang of longing that wished he could do the same, Ned led his children through the great hall and into one of the smaller private dining areas that was usually reserved for the immediate Stark family when they were not entertaining guests in the great hall. Sitting down at the head of the short table within the hall, Ned waited as his children took their seats as well before starting. "What ravens have you received? I take it based on Nyra's comment about needing to prepare Winterfell that we are soon to be expecting visitors?"

"Yes, father," Sansa answered politely, her posture that of a perfect lady. "We received a request shortly after your departure from Casterly Rock, specifically from Lord Gerion Lannister. He requested that he bring his daughter here to Winterfell for her to be tested by Lord Nox. I responded that you were away and would have to wait until you returned. But a week past we received another raven stating that Lord Gerion was on his way North by ship with his daughter and…and that Lord Tyrion Lannister would be accompanying them as well."

Rocking back, Ned resisted the urge to groan. Nox had told him shortly after returning from Valyria that they should be expecting a visit from Gerion and his daughter sometime soon. But even being prepared for it… The events at the end of Robert's Rebellion still left a foul taste in his mouth whenever he thought of the Lannisters. And now they were to host not only Tywin Lannister's brother and niece, but his son as well. His deformed dwarf son at that. Though if he were to be honest, it wasn't so much having to house those of House Lannister that put him on edge. No, that was due more to the fact that there was a good probability that Nox would take the girl on as an acolyte. He shuddered to think of what Tywin Lannister could do in the future with one of his House having the same abilities as his own children and Nox. "Lord Gerion and his daughter's arrival is not unexpected as Nox told me that they would more than likely be coming. Lord Tyrion though…I expect you all to be on your best behaviors and remember your courtesies while in his presence."

His children all nodded, though his gaze did have to linger on Arya for a time before she gave in and nodded her consent as well. "Is that all?" he asked, turning back to Sansa who started fidgeting.

"No, father," she answered. "We also received word from Dorne. Prince Oberyn and Princess Arianne and a retinue from Dorne are on their way north as we speak. They – They say they are coming to Winterfell to discuss further trade relations between the North and Dorne. And the Prince, well, he said he's coming to offer his condolences for – for what happened."

Blinking, Ned frowned as he thought over what the arrival of Prince Oberyn and Princess Arianne could actually mean. While he had no doubt that there was truth to the wish of discussing trade, he doubted that was the entirety of the matter. The Martells had not left their lands for any part of the Seven Kingdoms since the end of the Rebellion. Hells, the only reason why they hadn't continued the fight after what happened to Elia Martell was because Jon Arryn somehow managed to convince them that peace was the better option.

"Prince Oberyn and – and Ar – Princess Arianne are coming to Winterfell?"

Looking towards Jon, Ned immediately noticed the slight reddening around his son's ears. 'Jon seems quite…familiar with the Princess to call her by her name only. Even if he did catch himself. Did something more happen in Dorne than what he told me?' "Jon?" Ned asked, leveling a look at his son. "Is there something you wish to tell us?"

Jon's face had gone red before going white and then returning to a somewhat normal color as he fought to control himself. "No! I – I mean nothing happened between us. We danced and talked and – and that was it. I swear it."

There was no lie in his words. But still, for two of the ruling family of Dorne to personally make their way to the North to speak of something as simple as trade? No, Ned might not be one who readily participates in 'the game' that the other highborns participated in. But he was no fool. A matter of condolence or trade did not necessitate the arrival of two members of a ruling House. One of whom was the technical heir due to the laws of inheritance in Dorne.

"And," Sansa pressed on. "We have also received word from Highgarden. Lady Olenna Tyrell, Lord Willias Tyrell, Ser Garlen Tyrell, and Lady Margaery Tyrell are on their way north with a large contingent of their sworn guardsmen while escorting men north who have volunteered for the Night's Watch. Given the timing of each raven, father…Lady Nyra and Maester Luwin have both estimated that all three groups will be here within the walls of Winterfell within a moon's turn at the latest. And they should all be arriving within a sennight of each other."

'Gods…Which of the gods did I wrong in my life to have to deal with this gathering?!' Ned thought morosely as he felt the beginnings of a headache that he was sure wouldn't leave him until all parties had departed from Winterfell. Dealing with just one of the Great Houses of Westeros was cause for a headache. Dealing with three, and these three at that? House Martell despised House Lannister because of what transpired at the end of Robert's Rebellion, and with due cause. House Tyrell and House Lannister had been in a constant state of rivalry as they continuously tried to prove to the realm just which House was technically the richest. And House Tyrell also had a cold relationship with House Martell in no small part because it was Prince Oberyn who injured Lord Willias during a tourney years ago, leaving the boy with a permanent limp despite his age. Neither of those three Houses had even talked to one another for years due to their grudges against one another. And now, all three were going to be within the walls of Winterfell for the gods' only knew how long.

"Father? Are you alright?"

Giving himself a mental shake, Ned found his children all staring at him with varying degrees of distress written clear across their faces. "I'm fine," he lied. He was far from 'fine'. "We will need to prepare separate wings of the guest hall for our visitors. Hopefully, guest rites will keep them in check, but I will not put them to the test. Not in my halls."

"I thought you would say that father," Sansa replied, the slight distress at his brooding gone and replaced with her mother's façade once more. "I've ordered the servants to begin cleaning and preparing three different areas of the guest quarters."

Favoring his eldest daughter with a smile, Ned gave her an appreciative nod of thanks. Only a few moons on her own, and already his daughter had changed so much that he hardly recognized her. "Well done, Sansa. You are truly your mother's daughter. And will, without a doubt, one day become a great lady of your own house."

Sansa preened under the praise while Arya merely rolled her eyes. 'Sansa will indeed become a great lady…but I fear that Arya never will. And while such a thought fills me with dread, I fear far more what she would do should I try and force such a fate upon her.'

"The Lannisters, the Martells, and the Tyrells… And here I was hoping that we would be done with the southerners for a time," his eldest sighed.

"The North is a part of the Seven Kingdoms, son. As are the Reach, the Westerlands, and Dorne. As such, we will never be 'done with the southerners'," Ned stated sternly, giving Robb a hard glare.

Perhaps not realizing he'd said the thought aloud, his eldest son went wide eyed and sat up straighter. "Father, I – That wasn't what I meant. I –"

"I know what you meant, son," Ned replied, taking pity on his son. "The games of the south have little use here in the North. But nonetheless, you must learn how to play their game as well should you wish to become a respected lord. Both in the eyes of our people and those of the south. And this will be a good opportunity for you to put what you learned in King's Landing into practice."

"Aye, father, I won't let you down," Robb said with determination.

"I know you won't…You are all the best of your mother and I and more, even you, Jon. And I am proud, so very proud, to call each of you my children," Ned smiled as he saw each of his children, Jon included, light up and smile. "Now come, enough of this heavy talk. Let us move onto lighter subjects. I have had a firsthand accounting for Robb's and Jon's progress, but I am curious how you three are doing with your training that Master Nox assigned to each of you."

---

There were few things in life that Nox found truly relaxing. And laying on his bed with his wife using his chest as a pillow as she slept while he idly traced the path of her spine with his fingers was at the top of that list. But while his body and soul were relaxed, his mind was anything but. Nyra had told him of their impending visitors from the south. While he had fully expected for the major players of Westeros to start trying to make their moves soon, he was not necessarily expecting them all to make them at the same time. And while this wasn't necessarily a bad thing, it was unexpected. But it also meant that he would need to expedite a few of his plans.

His training of the Stark children was progressing as well as could be expected. But given their current rate of growth, it would be at least a decade or more before their training could even be considered partially complete. He would have to increase their training regimes. Especially for Jon and Arya, who were now the two most powerful of his students. Though with Shireen now in Winterfell, Arya would more than likely find herself having to try to keep her number two position amongst his students. As for the other two, Barra was still but an infant and still years away from even being able to start proper training. And Gendry… Though Nox could tell that the boy would make for an excellent Sith Warrior, focusing solely on his battle prowess would be doing the boy a disservice. Considering his skill in Force Forging…his training would perhaps be the most difficult to outline.

And outside of Force training, he also needed to accelerate some of his technological plans. The rail system was a good start, but Samwell and Luwin still had not finalized the design for a steam engine that would be powerful enough to pull the weight of train cars. He'd had to lean on them a bit and start subtly injecting more advanced theories and ideas for the two to use. Then there was his 'other' project. The project that would change warfare as this world knew it forever. But even that project would take a decent amount of time. Firstly, to acquire what he needed. And secondly to get the correct combination put together to make it effective. Then there was the actual delivery mechanism. He'd been planning on using Mikken to help him design the mechanism he required. Yet now with Gendry's Force Forging ability, perhaps he could expedite that plan as well, which circled back around to how to properly structure Gendry's training.

But he also had another problem to consider. And that was when he started introducing a continuous stream of technological advancements, how long would it last before people began asking questions as to just how he was able to come up with such inventions? Questions that Nox was honestly surprised hadn't already started to come about. Questions that he didn't want to answer. But still, those questions could potentially create a divide between himself, his Apprentices, and the few that he had started to consider to be his friends. Possibly even a divide between himself and the woman he now held in his arms. There was a way to preempt all those questions and ensure that he maintained the trust of those he considered his friends and his love. But it was not without risks of doing exactly what he was hoping to avoid. Which was to tell them the truth of himself and the universe at large.

Tightening his hold on Nyra, his wife gave off the slightest of whimpers as she tightened her hold on him, burying her face further into his chest. Losing Ashara had nearly destroyed who he was. Losing his son Khem just before he could be born had thrown him back into the deepest pit of darkness imaginable. And the only reason why he was able to pull himself out of the pit was his connection to Nyra. Should he lose her, either due to a blade or because of an ill kept secret…

'It should work,' he thought, resuming running his fingers along Nyra's warm flesh. 'Jon and Robb are more than powerful enough in the Force. Ned's power has grown significantly despite his age. And Nyra…I don't know how or why. But she has developed the slightest of Force attunements.'

That last little bit had certainly been a shock to Nox when he'd laid his metaphorical eyes on her upon returning to Winterfell. Her connection to the Force was slight and untrained, but it was there. The question was: how? Spontaneously acquiring an affinity for the Force was not necessarily unheard of. But it was so rare that it was all but a myth. Yet, Nyra was living proof that it was indeed possible. Granted she would never be powerful enough to outclass anyone above an Apprentice level. But she still had a connection to the Force now. Perhaps…Perhaps it wasn't just Sansa's healing that saved her life? Perhaps there was a chance, and outrageously slim chance, that their unborn child subconsciously protected its mother? It…It was a possibility. But it was not one that he was truly interested in testing out further.

'How it happened no longer matters,' he thought, inhaling the scent of his wife's hair. 'All that matters is that she has a touch of Force sensitivity. Which means that she will be able to partake in what I'm going to be attempting. The only question that remains is how will she and the others react to learning the truth of the universe?'