Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim to own the collective works of Van Helsing, Game of Thrones, A Song of Ice and Fire or anything that may come into the following Fan made piece of fiction. This is meant for enjoyment alone.

"By the words of my house know that I am Never Alone." speech.

'wow, I didn't think stupidity could come in such a small package as that Joffrey cunt.' thought/flashback monologuing.

"█▄▄██▄▄▄██▄▄█" Wolf howl/roar/etc.

XxxXxxXxxX

Previously:

It was the single longest individual bout of the entire Melee as the two traded blows. Steffon had a busted lip and bruises littering his chest, face and arms from where he had been struck while Lucian Blood had only slightly reddened skin, as if he was being merely slapped.

So entranced by this display of strength and endurance was Genna that when Lord Blood delivered a swift uppercut that actually removed Steffon from the ground; she jumped up and joined in with the enraptured roar.

It took Steffon a moment longer to find his feet from that blow, staggering to his feet and from the way he was stumbling, very dazed. When he was able to steady himself he rubbed at his jaw he broke into a roaring laughter.

"I cannot best you my friend!" Steffon roared loudly, amusement and a clear lack of resentment in his voice.

"I yield to you. Lucian Blood; The Iron-hand!"

XxxXxxXxxX

1456 a.d (anno Domini)

Lucian pulled at a leather strap under his arm uncomfortably adjusting the fit and placement of the rerebrace on his bicep. He had worn his armor several times before this day and yet his armor had never felt tighter or more uncomfortable than it did in this moment.

He was eighteen and after this ceremony, his life would be officially changed as he took his place within the Order that his mentor and friend Vladislaus had brought him into. After being squired to his mentor officially for three years and trained sporadically during the two years before that, Lucian had taken himself from a life as the son of a blacksmith to a man of skill and worthy of the proud and respected Knights of the Holy Order.

Early in his time as a Squire, Vladislaus had explained to him that the customary age for Squire's to be eligible for Knighting was twenty-one. However the young Count's own position and authority within the Holy Order allowed for some leeway to this custom. The Transylvanian Noble had revealed to Lucian that his possible Knighting would take place when and only when Vladislaus himself deemed the boy ready. Whether that be before the age of twenty-one or even long after.

Lucian's Mentor was an ambitious man and demanded that same ambition from those that served under him in kind. Lucian worked himself to the bone, trained longer and harder that other Squires not only to prove that he, some nobody child of a commoner, was worthy of training alongside the other trainees who all came from higher positioned families and stations. That was an ambition that his Mentor liked.

The sound of footsteps drew Lucian's attention from his fidgeting, his hands having moved to pulling at the plain grey cloth tabard that he wore over his armor. Looking up he saw the armored and regal form of his friend and Mentor walking up to him. Resplendent in his own armor polished to a shine for the occasion and his own tabard depicting a white cross on a field of red draped over his chest.

"You look like you would rather be running the arrow gauntlet at this moment my young friend." Vladislaus smiled widely. "I thought you had been waiting for this day as eagerly as I?"

Lucian unconsciously smoothed down the front of his tabard as he straightened his posture nervously. "I have, it is just that so many prestigious members of the Order are here today."

"I understand." The man nodded in sympathy. "When I was knighted my whole family was in attendance as well as the rest of the Order. I recall that I actually tore my first Tabard in my haste to put it on when getting ready."

Lucian smiled as the Count laughed softly at the memory.

Vlad walked up to the young soon-to-be Knight and clapped a gauntleted hand on his shoulder, smiling proudly. "I am immensely proud of how you have handled your training and very grateful that you chose to take this path of life my friend. I have many comrades and men who would give their lives for me and I for them. But only one that I have been blessed enough to call my friend and brother. After this day; I look forward to adding you to that number."

Lucian felt his heart swell at that statement. In the time since leaving his home, Lucian had come to consider the older man before him a friend in a lose sense of the term. A friendship separated and limited by the relationship of Mentor and Squire. But after today and by the word of Vlad, they would truly be friends of equal standing.

"I must leave you for the moment. My place is at my father's side for the coming Ceremony." Vlad squeezed his hand on Lucian's shoulder briefly before releasing his hold and stepping back. "Don't forget to breath and don't speak too quickly."

Lucian nodded and watched the man turn sharply and walk away.

Ten minutes later and the grand hall doors to the Holy Order's Hall opened and Lucian strode in, gut twisting with nerves and the beginnings of a cold sweat beading his brow.

Notable members of the local Nobility were in attendance; never missing the opportunity to witness the knighting of a new member of the prestigious order. Retired or otherwise infirm former Knights stood in their armor wearing tabards marked with with black strips that crossed the red field that marked their position as inactive members of the Holy Order.

And lining the main stretch from the doors to the raised dais at the end of the Hall, in two columns, were the current high ranked members of the Holy Order of the Transylvania sect.

As Lucian walked further down the great Hall toward where the Grandmaster stood, larger than life and powerful, the Knights snapped to attention and smacked a clench fist against their breastplate; saluting their soon-to-be brother.

In no time at all Lucian stood but five steps down and away from him. The Grandmaster of this sect of the Knights of the Holy Order. The father of Vladislaus Dragulia.

Valerious the Elder.

He was a powerful man, clad in the armor and tabard of the Order with an iron badge fastened to his breastplate that marked him as Grandmaster. Long salt and peppered hair and a short well groomed beard; the man stood there patiently with two men at his side.

To his right stood his son and Lucian's mentor and friend; Vlad.

To his left stood probably the other most prolific member of the Holy Order; Sir Gabriel.

It was said that the man was the Archangel Gabriel himself; born in human form and sent by God himself to fight alongside humanity against the darkness and influence of the Devil himself.

There was an age to that man's eyes that had Lucian believe the stories. That no human could have eyes so old that they had to be something more.

At the slightest of nodes from the Grandmaster, Lucian bent his knee and knelt before the man, hands rested upon his raised knee and head bowed in respect.

"Accolade Lucian. You have come here before me to make your oath toward this Holy Order and swear your blade to the defence of God's Earth and His children against the forces of Hell itself. Is this true?" Valerious' voice was not raised yet it filled ever crevice of the massive Hall, reaching the ears of even the hardest of hearing.

"It is Grandmaster. My heart is resolute in this."

Valerious the Elder nodded in stern approval before gesturing to the side with a wave of his hand. From the side of the Hall a red clad Cardinal, previously unnoticed to Lucian approached, a large leather bound bible held to his chest.

The Cardinal cleared his throat and peered down to the kneeling young man.

"Are you prepared to swear yourself to this Holy Order of Knights in service to our Father?"

"I am your eminence." Lucian replied dutifully.

The Cardinal nodded in approval. "Then before all in attendance and before God Himself, affirm yourself to your oath."

"Do you swear to hold to the faith and to defend those unable to defend themselves in the name of the Father?" Valerious began, drawing his sword and resting the tip of the blade on the marble floor with his hands placed on its pommel firmly.

"By my oath I do."

"And will you renounce cowardice and grant mercy to those who are deserving of it in the name of His Son?"

"By my oath I do."

"And will you, Accolade Lucian; swear to uphold all that is good and true in the world and revile all that is evil and sinister, in the name of the Holy Spirit?"

"By my oath I do."

Valerious gripped his sword and raised it to place the flat of the blade on Lucian's right shoulder before lifting it and repeating the action on his left.

"Then before all in attendance and under the sight of God Himself rise; Sir Lucian, Knight of the Holy Order."

XxxX

265 A.C

Lucian pulled at the collar of his doublet, the silken collar of the garment feeling tight around his neck. Since his coming to Kings Landing he had found a preference to clothing that left room around his neck, past 'experiences' having instilled an aversion to the feeling of anything wrapped tightly around his neck. The only reason he was enduring this wretched doublet at all was as a favor to Tywin who had reminded him to make sure he dressed the part of a man befitting his station at the King's Feast.

The Tourney had come to an end a few short days following the Melee; with the Joust being the final event held with the Kingsguard Sir Barristan the Bold emerging as the expected winner.

For the smallfolk of Kings Landing the Tourney was over and life was to return back to the norm, but for the high born there was still the King's Feast to attend. A lavish banquet within the Red Keep itself in the presence of the King and his family along with the Lord Paramounts from across the Seven Kingdoms.

Invitation to the King's Feast was a very exclusive thing; with only those from High Nobility, and the Great Houses being invited and expected to attend, the only other guests fortunate enough to be granted the opportunity were those who won an event during one of the Tourney events or under personal invitation of the King himself.

So it was the fact that Lucian had won a decisive victory at the Melee that was responsible for his current predicament under the torment of his tightly collared doublet.

His attire had been newly made for him at the order of the Hand of the King; Tywin; with a dark, almost maroon red being the primary color with black and silver accents and highlights with his house sigil blazened on the right side of his chest.

It was very rare that Lucian had had the opportunity or even the need to dress in such rich clothing. Even in his homeland when he had been forced to endure formal events as a part of the Holy Order with his friends Vlad and Gabriel he usually had been attired in a set of 'formal' knightly attire to remind the local nobility of the status and purpose. It was so far from the rough and scratchy clothing he had been forced in for centuries prior that somehow it felt a margin more uncomfortable despite the impossibility.

Currently the Werewolf was pacing back and forth restlessly before a large set of doors that led to the Red Keeps great Feast Hall. The place where the King would host his lavish banquets and entertain his Noble guests. As was custom for these kinds of events a Herald would first need to announce his arrival to afford the appointed respect as was obligated to his position.

Personally Lucian would have preferred to do without, to simply slip in unnoticed and try to enjoy the feast in his own way, but he very much doubted that he'd get away with it.

The usher on his side of the large doors peeked through to whisper to the Herald within the Feast Hall for a moment before turning to address the 'young' Lord Blood.

"We are prepared to announce you My Lord." The Usher informed with a respectful bow. "At your leisure please enter the Feast Hall."

Lucian regarded the smaller man with a short nod, idly noting the usher shy away as the much taller man stepped by and into the Hall as the doors were pulled open for him.

"Announcing Lord Lucian Blood of House Blood; the Iron-Hand. Lord of Hearthstone. Bannerman of House Lannister and victor of the Melee."

Lucian's eye twitched as the many occupants of the room turned to acknowledge his arrival. Several he could already see were attempting to slot him into whatever category they felt was fit for him; some nobody commoner who had climbed his way to nobility while others were taking the chance to examine him more carefully after remembering his display during the Tourney.

The grey eyed man simply sought out for the gold and red clad Tywin Lannister and made his way to his liege-lord at a calm and controlled pace.

The Warden of the West was, as his position as Hand of the King demanded; seated to the left of the King at the Royal table.

Already Lucian could see the faintest of twitches to the man's lips as the Lannister smothered an amused smile at the discomfort of his newest Bannerman.

Stepping up to the table, Lucian bowed his head respectfully to a widely grinning King Aerys and his sister-wife Queen Rhaella Targaryen. "Your Grace, my Queen. Permit me to express my gratitude for being invited to this Feast and for allowing my admittance into the Tourney held in honor of your son."

Rhaella smiled politely at the man and looked to her husband who simply beamed all the wider as he held his arms out.

"Allowing your admittance? Ha! I only wish that there had been time enough for another bout after watching your savage display!" Aerys laughed. "I might have to arrange for another Tourney in the near future for the chance to see the Iron Hand leave his mark once more. With his Lord Paramount's blessings of course."

Tywin, whom had been silently nodding in approval of Lucian's manner, turned to the king and nodded his agreement benignly. "If it is the Kings wish."

Aerys smiled before turning back to his sister-wife and resuming a quiet discussion, clearly dismissing Lucian from that point.

Tywin caught the Werewolf's eye and gestured to the empty seat next to him with a tilt of his head; inviting the man to take his seat.

It was a gesture that would not go unnoticed by the other Lords and Ladies within the Feast Hall; for a newly placed Lord who was not even one of the High Nobility to be afforded a seat at the King's Table.

Walking around, Lucian pulled back the chair offered him and eased himself down; ignoring the brief creaking as the expensive piece of furniture adjusted to his weight.

"You held yourself well." Tywin said in lieu of a greeting as he waved for a cup bearer to pour the Lord of Hearthstone a drink.

"While I've not had experience in the presence of Kings before my coming to Kings Landing I have attended my share of feasts amongst Nobility before My Lord."

"In your homeland." Tywin nodded faintly. "Perhaps tonight will proceed better than previously expected then. Your actions during the Tourney were supportive towards proving yourself a capable man worthy of my placing you within the ranks of titled Nobility. Tonight's proceedings would serve as the second stage of this; showing to the other Lords that not only can you best them on the field of battle but that you are just as capable in a social setting."

Lucian nodded in understanding. It was a logical manoeuvre from the Lord of the Westerlands. While ultimately he was free to act as he wished within his lands, assigning title and lands to whomever he pleased, there was still outside consideration to be aware of. Tywin's pride would not allow the other Lords to look down on his decision by thinking lightly or negatively of them.

It was one of the primary reasons that Tywin had urged him to take place in the Tourney, beyond simply the obligation set by the King.

To show to those that were currently attending the Feast that not only was the new Lord of House Blood someone to be respected, but Tywin himself was made more impressive for having secured the man in his lands instead of losing him to another.

Tywin's eyes flicked to look behind Lucian for a moment before his mouth finally slipped into a more genuine, amused smirk.

"It occurs to me that you have yet to be introduced to my dear sister." The man said, gesturing to the individual seated to the other side of Lucian. "She attended the Melee in my company to witness your victory. It is my understanding she was quite impressed with your display Lucian."

Lucian turned his head and met the bright green eyes of an incredibly beautiful woman.

"I'd thank you to allow me to make my own opinions dear Brother." The woman remarked with a warning look in her eyes as she briefly looked by Lucian to the faintly amused expression of her older brother.

"I did indeed witness your bout in the Melee." she returned her focus to the Werewolf at her side. "Genna Lannister, favorite sister to my brother Tywin."

"Hardly a favoritism fiercely fought Genna." Tywin pointed out drily. "I will remind you that you are my only sister."

"And yet my point remains true Tywin." Genna shot back with a sly smirk.

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance My Lady." Lucian smiled politely as he took Genna's offered hand and pantomimed a kiss at the knuckles.

"Oh please My Lord. Be assured that in this case the pleasure is all mine." Genna winked at him.

Tywin shook his head in exasperation. Ever since the Melee had concluded Genna had been quite vocal in her anticipation for the King's Feast. It was a guarantee that her 'dear husband' Emmon would not be in attendance, a Long Night would occur before Tywin would permit that stain to be seated in such by his sister's side and in his presence amongst such company.

And so with no husband by her side it would mean that Genna would be free to behave, within the confines of propriety, as she desired to what was very clearly becoming an object of fascination to her.

"It is my understanding that such violence is usually abhorrent to Ladies such as yourself." Lucian cocked an eyebrow in curiosity.

"Ladies in other, lesser houses perhaps." Genna replied with a challenging look in her eyes as she ran a finger along the rim of her wine glass absently. "But I find there is something, exhilarating in watching a man work himself to a sweat while beating his dominance in another."

Lucian swallowed and quickly reached for his wine and emptied it to calm his nerves. Prior to his imprisonment in Castle Dracula he had been a Knight devoted to the battle against evil and therefore little time and experience with the fairer sex. It wasn't to say that he lacked, experience, with a woman in a specific and intimate sense, more simply that he was very much not used to being on the receiving end of such, ardent attention.

Genna's eyes sparked with amusement at the man's nerves and gestured for his glass to be refilled.

"Do restrain yourself sister." Tywin spoke up, preventing the eager woman from continuing her teasing of the wolf. "Keep this up and I fear Lucian here may abscond to Essos and start a war to calm himself."

Genna pouted in false sadness but nodded in resignation, reaching out to gently run her hand along Lucian's bicep. "Very well, I am sure we shall have another opportunity in the future Lord Blood, to talk."

Lucian nodded, swallowing drily. "Please call me Lucian."

Genna smiled happily in return. "Only if you would call me Genna in turn."

"Iron Hand!"

Genna's hand quickly departed from Lucian's arm and the man in question shot his gaze toward the loud speaker to see a richly dressed and widely grinning Steffon Baratheon approaching with a young, attractive brunette at his side.

Steffon bowed in respect to the king and his sister-wife as was expected before declaring his thanks to Aerys before swiftly turning his attention to Lucian; easily ignoring an only minutely irritated Tywin.

"Glad to see you here my friend. how's your face?" Steffon grinned.

"Fine My Lord, a stag brushed against it recently but mostly unnoticed really." Lucian replied with a mockingly polite smile. "How's your jaw?"

Steffon gaped for a the briefest of moments, an action that drew attention and smiles of amusement from both Tywin and the young woman on Steffon's arm. "So the Wolf's bite is just as savage as his claws!"

The young man reached up with his free hand to gingerly rub at his jaw, which was still discolored and bruised from their bout in the Melee. "A strike not soon forgotten I confess, but it is the Stag's horns that are the real concern, not his jaw. And I thought I asked you to call me Steffon?"

"Perhaps I hit you harder than expected. You said no such thing in either of our two meetings prior to this, My Lord." Lucian commented.

Steffon frowned in thought, looking over the seated Werewolf's shoulder as if recalling the prior meetings. After a moment the youthful Lord Paramount's eyes widened in shock.

"By The Seven I think your right!" Steffon exclaimed in shock. "Well take this as my permission that you call me Steffon in places such as this. I find little need for formality at feasts when amongst friends."

"Of course, Lord Steffon."

Steffon glanced over to Tywin for a moment before returning his gaze to Lucian as his shoulders dropped and he let out a sigh as he shook his head. "Why do I fear you will make me fight for this?"

A pulling on his arm brought his attention to the woman at his side and Steffon's smile easily returned.

"Ah of course. Permit me to introduce you to my Lady Wife; Cassana." Steffon nodded his head to the young woman next to him.

The woman, who was a good foot shorter than her Lord Husband was, while not as beautiful as the golden haired Lannister to Lucian's left, admittedly quite attractive in her own right. Soft features and soft brown hair that was styled gracefully, she looked quite comfortable at her larger husbands side. "It is a pleasure to meet the man who instilled some humility in my Lord-Husband Lord Blood."

"Alas the blows continue!" Steffon bemoaned dramatically, reaching up to pat at his chest above his heart for effect. "To think even my beautiful wife, the mother of my wonderful children would seek such harm against me."

"And to think that had you won the Melee instead of Lord Lucian you would have not ceased your boasting until Stannis was a man grown." Cassana remarked easily.

"Are you two quite done?" Tywin spoke up.

Steffon's teeth flashed in a wicked grin as he turned and put on an expression of surprise. "Oh Tywin! I didn't notice you there. Where did you pounce from you sly lion?"

"Here. Waiting for my moment to strike as befitting a Lion of Casterly Rock." Tywin retorted. "Perhaps you should seek the attentions of a Maester. If your eyes cannot recognise the face of your friend perhaps Lord Blood did indeed hit you harder than expected."

Steffon shook his head in good humor. "Dragons, Wolves and Lions. I think perhaps there are too many teeth and claws at this table. I think I can hear my table calling my name, we shall continue this joust another time I think."

The Lord of Storm's End smiled widely and nodded in the King's direction one last time before he spun around and retreated to his table with his wife on arm, laughing to show no taken insult from the discourse between himself, Lucian and Tywin.

With Steffon departing for his table, Lucian leaned toward Tywin when the young Lord beckoned with a hand.

"I've received quite the number of missives from several of the Lords attending tonight's festivities." The Lannister Lord began, looking around the room idly. "Those clawed gauntlets of yours that you forged, it has been rumored to have been made from Valerian Steel. With the rarity of Valerian Steel throughout the Seven Kingdoms never is it wasted in forging armor but rather a weapon. In order to display status of possessing a weapon that either carries with it or can develop a name in of itself. For you to have wasted the material in making armor many believe that you are in possession of a surplus of the material."

Lucian raised an eyebrow. "It isn't Valerian Steel though. As I explained to you and Steffon, the material I used was a special steel that I learned to create from my father. Damascus Steel."

"Yes I am aware." Tywin nodded. "Of the messages I've received, many of them have been requests to purchase a weapon or armor piece that you may or may not have in your possession."

"Items that I do not actually possess."

"True. I have not yet corrected those rumors yet due largely in part to the fact that I am not satisfied any of the offers are significant enough for you to even consider." Tywin shrugged.

Lucian nodded in understanding, a sly smirk on his face. "Ah I see what your attempting. Wait for attention to reach a peak and then correct these rumors by revealing that rather than Valerian Steel my Gauntlets were forged using a material that is completely unknown to Westeros and yet still just as valuable. If not more considering the increased value of rarity."

Tywin nodded his head briefly, pleased that the larger man had kept up with his line of thinking. "Precisely. I would not presume to control the if's and when's of any further forging of this Damascus Steel of yours; it is a thing that belongs firmly to the Blood House and a Lannister does not steal. However, I would see that such a valuable commodity is appropriately valued."

"Something that I am grateful to hear." Lucian smiled. "My father very rarely smelted and forged Damascus Steel items. It was a very personal achievement of his to have learned its secrets. I would prefer that such personal value is not tarnished."

"Legacy. I understand the sentiment. Your father was an intelligent man." Tywin declared firmly. "I would hope that if the day comes that you decide to make use of your family's craft you will consider an offer from my house."

Lucian furrowed his brow in consideration; thinking of the eventuality of if and when he decided to continue his father's legacy and forge more Damascus steel for someone other than himself when Tywin cleared his throat and raised a hand to indicate to the feasting Lords and Ladies within the Hall.

"Now then, you know the faces of the King of the Seven Kingdoms and the Lord Paramount of Storms End, I will point out to you the other men worthy of note that are here. During the Melee you fought against a Knight of the Riverlands; Brynden Tully. Given the name of Blackfish after he refused an order to marry from his Brother."

Lucian spotted the man in question and nodded at the memory of their fight. "A competent fighter. A far sight better than many of the men that entered the ring that day."

"His brother, Hoster Tully is a completely different man to his brother. He recently became Lord Paramount of the Trident the previous year, taking over from his father." Tywin indicated to a broad shouldered man with short brown hair and blue eyes. "He has shown himself to have intentions of expanding his influence by attempting to make more than one marriage to his brother since the first failed. It has long since been a path to power for the Tully's, one I believe will continue with his daughter Catelyn Tully. Although given Hoster's first two children did not survive infancy, it will be; first the challenge for his daughter to survive, before any thoughts of political marriage can be entertained."

Indicating to another table and to a man who looked to be in his mid forties with the house sigil of a blue falcon against a white moon displayed on the breast of his own doublet.

"House Arryn of the Vale. The current Lord Paramount of the Vale and Warden of the East in the Seven Kingdoms is Jon Arryn. It is believed that given Lord Arryn's, difficulty, producing an Heir; that his brother Alys and his line will take up Lordship of the Vale in the future."

The next to be pointed out was a dusky skinned woman with a sun pierced by a golden spear as her house sigil.

"Meria Martell. Ruling Princess of Dorne to the south. Odd in their how they rule given that it is not her husband who controls the Kingdom but the Princess herself. A holdover from the Rhoynar who first settled Dorne. When Aegon the Conqueror came to Westeros, Dorne was the only Kingdom to resist his invasion and retain their title's. It is the reason why they are ruled by a Prince or Princess in this instance. Dorne is quite secure in its succession with Princess Martell's three children, Doran, Elia and Oberyn."

Next was a table occupied by a small group bearing a golden rose on a field of green as their sigil.

"House Tyrell. Under the 'official' control of Lord Luthor Tyrell; Lord Paramount of the Reach and Warden of the South." Tywin shook his head in disdain as he looked over to man with curly brown hair who was laughing at the antics of a small boy who bore a remarkable similarity to the man. "Make no mistake, it is not that oaf who controls House Tyrell, but his Lady Wife; Olenna Tyrell."

Tywin pointed over to a woman that was without a doubt incredibly attractive. Thick brown hair that softly curled and a figure that could and did put many women within the Feast Hall to shame.

"She has earned the nickname 'Queen of Thorns' for an intelligence and sharp wit that more often than not leads to others being embarrassed when speaking with her. So be careful if you ever find yourself in a conversation with her. She may deliberately provoke you in an attempt to get you to reveal something you do not wish to. She was originally betrothed to Daeron Targaryen but manipulated Luthor Tyrell into bedding her which forced a marriage between the two."

"Over there is Quellon Greyjoy. You may recall facing him briefly during the Melee." Tywin indicated next to a man nestled in one of the furthest corners of the Hall, braided dark brown beard with the hair on his head shaved at the sides and top grown long which was pulled back into a neat tail. "The Greyjoy's occupy and rule the Iron Islands to the north-west of Hearthstone and as you recall from your learnings with Pycelle; practice a savage lifestyle they call the 'Iron Price'."

"Yes I recall. In my homeland there was a people that held a similar lifestyle of raiding." Lucian pointed out. "Although the Norse held a raiding lifestyle out of necessity because of the harsh environs within which they lived where as as I understand it, the Ironborn raid out of pride and refusal to actually make their own living."

"Perhaps it is possible that is how the Ironborn first concocted their Iron Price and raiding lifestyle given that while the Iron Islands possesses large quantities of iron ore to mine, it has little else to offer that could sustain a people." Tywin theorised. "Quellon is the current Lord Reaper of Pyke and Lord Paramount of the Iron Islands. Apparently he is something of a revolutionary amongst his people with intentions of ridding the Ironborn of the Iron Price and instituting the Golden Price and turning his people into traders rather than raiders."

"It would be quite the feat if he succeeded at that." Lucian admitted. "Very rarely does radical change on that kind of level ever succeed within a single generation."

That had Tywin nodding in agreement. The Ironborn were notorious for their stubbornness and excess of pride in regards to their 'Iron Price'. The undesirable truth that the Lord of Pyke would have to come to; was that if he wanted to truly change his people for the better, it would most likely only happen through the shedding of blood. And lots of it.

"The last family of note is House Stark of the North." Tywin continued. "The North very rarely ventures south of The Neck and did not even make an appearance to this Tourney. Three years ago the Lord Paramount of Winterfell and Warden of the North; Edwyle Stark died and has been succeeded by his only son and heir Rickard Stark. The boy is still a young man but has proven himself capable of maintaining the Stark's authority amongst the Northern Lords."

"Yes, Pycelle did teach me of the North and its, different ways." Lucian commented. "The Grand Maester has a poor opinion of the Northern Kingdom that you can hear in how he speaks of them but from what he told me there is an unspoken element of sovereignty through might. That House Stark rules as the Lord Paramounts of the North because of their strength and strict adherence and enforcement of not only the laws of man, but also the laws of their gods."

"You remember your lessons well." Tywin acknowledged, flicking his eyes over to the man in question briefly before he returned to examining the room. "When the religion of the Seven came to Westeros with the Andals long ago the North held off and resisted conversion. To this day they maintain Faith in their 'Old Gods'."

A lull in their conversation gave Lucian a moment to drain the remainder of his wine before waving for a refill, with his metabolism it was highly unlikely he would be able to drink enough to enjoy any kind of alcoholic buzz without delving into the realm of excess drinking within polite company but he could still enjoy the taste of the wine nonetheless.

"Be sure not to drink too much. With the Tourney now concluded I do expect you to be underway to Casterly Rock in the morning." Tywin warned absently. "This Tourney has delayed your departure long enough I believe. So you will find a contingent of men to act as escort for you at dawn."

"Well in that case, let's be done with this bothersome talk and enjoy ourselves before Lord Blood has to leave." Genna spoke up. "Dance with me Lord Blood? Enjoy the festivities before my brother sends you away."

Lucian ignored the amused expression on Tywin's face as he turned from the man to look to the man's sister. He had to force himself not to look away and reach for his wine to make a barrier when he saw the very direct and 'don't-even-try-to-say-no' look in her eyes.

Rising to his feet, Lucian smoothed down the front of his Doublet, resisting the urge to pull at the still too tight collar before he walked around and held out a hand to the daintily smiling Lannister beauty.

"Lady Genna, would you do me the pleasure of joining me for a dance?"

XxxX

True to Tywin's instruction, come dawn the very next morning, a small group of Lannister guardsmen were ready in the Outer Courtyard with a Horse already saddled and prepared for him.

A brief farewell to Tywin followed by an, interesting farewell with his sister Genna whom had expressed her enjoyment from the previous night dancing and speaking with him and Lucian was leaving King's Landing and making for the Westerlands and Casterly Rock.

Since the bandit attack against Joanna three years previous, the Gold Road had seen a sizeable increase in patrolling on both sides from the Lannister side as well as the Targaryen's. Because of this, regardless of Lucian's ability to readily defend himself against something as mundane as a bandit attack, the journey across the Gold Road was without interruption.

At a steady and uninterrupted pace it was on the fourth day that Lucian and his escort made it to Casterly Rock.

It was remarkable at just how quickly horse riding had come back to Lucian after so long since he had last had the opportunity. It had not been since his days as a Knight of the Holy Order in his homeland in fact. In more, simple times.

There had been some enjoyment to find for the centuries old Lord, the shifting of the beast between his legs as it cantered across the Gold Road. The warm breeze of the wind brushing against his face and through his hair. Even the peaceful sounds of the men travelling with him as they conversed with one another and even spoke to him regarding his display in the Melee.

Lucian's first sighting of Casterly Rock was impressive. Joanna had regaled him with stories of her home in the brief time he had been in her company when they had first met and she had told him of the home of the Lions of the Westerlands. Of a magnificent castle built into the stone hill that overlooked the Sunset Sea.

Hearing of it and seeing it for the first time, there was no comparison. The undertaking that would have needed to be devoted to building such a great monolith. Even the hill itself that Casterly Rock was built within looked more akin to a mountain than any hill; given how high above the sea it rose and the sheer length of it that ran inland from its cliff-face.

It was yet another reminder to Lucian of just how much, bigger things were built here than that of in his homeland. From the more modest size of the Red Keep of Kings Landing itself to places like Casterly Rock and even what he had heard of the legendary Wall in the North.

As Lucian was admitted into the central courtyard of Casterly Rock, his arrival having already been anticipated by the guard, Lucian's escort broke of and bade him leave to return to their duties. Once granted it left Lucian to dismount and collect his meagre belongings that he had brought with him from his horse. The large Trunk that was the only other thing to have come to Westeros from his homeland had been sent to Casterly Rock ahead of his departure from King's Landing shortly before Prince Rhaegar's Tourney; Lucian having no need for it after he had gotten what information he had needed in the smelting and forging of his father's brand of Damascus Steel.

Shouldering his travel bag, Lucian walked up to the main entrance into the Castle and, easily pushed the large wood, gold and silver embossed door open.

The first thing that drew the man's attention was the lack of reception. While not really an issue given Lucian's still adjusting attitude regarding his 'recent' status amongst the nobility, it was something that he had not expected; that no-one, servant or even Joanna herself would be waiting in the entrance hall to greet him.

The place almost felt empty.

Frowning, Lucian navigated his way further into the Castle, keeping an ear and his nose cocked to pick up the smells and sounds of a guard or one of the servants that worked in Casterly Rock. Perhaps his arrival was earlier than anticipated and he had caught them by surprise and therefore unprepared to welcome him?

The smell of polish and the sound of shuffling boots and the squeaking of cloth on metal alerted him to a nearby servant and following the sound and smell around the corner lead Lucian to an attending Servant; carefully polishing and cleaning a finely crafted and decorated gold torch sconce on the side of the long corridor.

"Hello there."

"Huh, wha-? M-Milord!" The Servant very nearly dropped his polishing rag and tripped over his own feet at seeing the large and finely dressed Lord standing but a few short feet from him. "Begging your pardon, I didn't hear you there."

"No offence taken. I have only just arrived but received no welcome." Lucian waved a hand off to alleviate the Servant of whatever worry he might have held. "Why is this place so quiet?"

"Ah, apologies Milord but the Lady Lannister, she, well you see, her pregnancy has come due. The new Lannister babe is being born as we speak. The household is in quite a state with this unexpected development."

Lucian's eyes widened. This was highly unexpected. At this date Joanna couldn't be too far over halfway through her pregnancy as it was. If she had truly gone into labor now, then the infant would be truly premature.

"Is everything alright?"

"I believe so Milord. Lady Lannister is in her chambers with the Maester and Midwife tending to her and the babe."

Lucian nodded in thought. Tywin had sent him to Casterly Rock as a measure of assurance for him to make sure Joanna was safe and looked after because he himself could not leave King's Landing because of his duties as Hand to the King. It would not do for him to simply leave do as he pleased if she was in labor now. He could offer no help for the birthing process true, but the least he could do is to be able to tell Tywin that he stood vigil and ensured that no-one interrupted the birth of his third child.

"Take me to where Lady Lannister's chambers are. I will stand guard while the Maester and Midwife tend to her."

With a bow the Servant hurried off with the tall Werewolf following closely behind.

The Servant ultimate led Lucian to the wing of Casterly Rock where the private chambers of the Lord and Lady of the Castle were located and provided a set if directions to get there; citing the need to return to his duties and that it was not his place or allowed privilege to enter that part of the castle.

Lucian had barely entered the Lion's Wing as it was called when he heard the sound of frantically moving small feet and a sound of frantic, choked breathing that was unfortunately all too familiar in that of a frantic and frightened child.

Turning the corner, Lucian was surprised to see little Jaime Lannister quickly approaching. Barely in his third year at this point the boy was already a spitting image of his father with bright golden hair and green eyes that were at this time, clouded with tears.

"Woah there!" Lucian quickly bent down and snatched the boy up into his hands as Jaime came within reach of him. "What's wrong little lion?"

"L-Lucian? you're here?" The boy gasped as he looked to the man holding him, chest heaving and eyes blinking as his mind tried to catch up with who had lifted him into the air.

"Aye. I arrived but a moment ago." Lucian replied with a smile and nod. "What's got you in such a state boy? Your little brother or sister is being born and look at you. Tears and panic."

"I-It's mother!" Jaime practically shouted as fresh tears spilled from his eyes. "She's hurting! Screaming and screaming! I need to get help! Cersei and I were in our chambers with the nanny but she says nothing is wrong but that's not true! Mother needs help!"

Lucian frowned only slightly. How had this nanny allowed Jaime in his state to leave her sight? Even if there was nothing wrong and the boy was simply overwhelmed with the realities of childbirth as a boy of his age would most likely be, he should not have been allowed to get this far on his own.

"Please Lucian! Help mother! I don't want her to be in pain!" the boy cried, chest heaving and tears and snot leaking from the boy as he fisted his hands in Lucian's sleeves.

"Tell you what. Dry your eyes and go back to your sister and nanny. I'm sure little Cersei is worried as well and could use her brother's comfort right now. I'll go see how things are going. What do you say?"

Jaime sniffed and nodded shakily. "O-okay."

Returning the three year old to the ground, Lucian waited till Jaime had wiped his eyes and nose on his sleeve before nodding in approval. "Good. It would not be good if you looked so frightened when you go back to your sister. Now run along, I'll go and see how your mother is doing and see what I can do."

Jaime nodded and turned around to shuffle off.

Satisfied that the boy was heeding his instruction, Lucian continued along the directed path that would take him to where Joanna was. In but a few moments Lucian's nose twitched and his eyes narrowed in focus and concern.

He could smell blood. Not all that alarming considering the ordeals of Childbirth. But even with his senses, Lucian would have expected for him to pick up the odour far closer to her chambers. According to the directions the Servant he had spoken to had given him; he was still some distance from his destination. Picking up his pace slightly, Lucian found his heartbeat increase and his pace speed up further still when the blood he could smell grew stronger and stronger.

This was too much. Far too much blood for anyone to bleed, childbirth or not and expect to remain in any sort of good health.

By the time he reached the doors to Joanna and Tywin's quarters, Lucian was firmly thanking Jaime in his mind for the boy's concern. The smell of blood was almost stifling and a small part of his wilder side was roused in a hunger. This was the scent of weakness and dying. Vulnerable prey.

Despite his alarm he hesitated. He could hear none of the screaming that Jaime had told him of and a part of him hoped that what he was smelling was simply the aftermath of what he dearly wished was a successful birth and that Joanna was fine and cradling her newborn babe in her arms on the other side of the door.

His ears however, ruthlessly denied him that hope and wish.

He could hear two, no three heart beats. One fast paced, rapid with panic. Another rapid but still controlled. The other; weak, shallow but rapid. Fading.

"-to be done. The bleeding is too heavy. I have given a dose of Milk of the Poppy to ease her pain. But she is not long for this world." A masculine voice; the Maester.

"She lost too much blood. Is there truly nothing that can be done to save her?" A woman's voice. The Midwife.

Lucian barely contained his himself long enough to even register the drawn out breath of defeat that the Maester let out before he practically ripped the door open and stormed into the chambers.

The Midwife let out a startled scream at how quickly his arrival had been and the Maester's eyes widened in similar surprise before Lucian grabbed the man by his chain and bodily tossed him out of the room and into the corridor. Turning his head to the Midwife; only absently noticing the swaddled infant in her arms he narrowed his eyes and growled.

"Out."

It was more than enough to send the terrified woman fleeing as if the Stranger himself was nipping at her heels.

With only himself and a motionless Joanna left in the room, Lucian slammed the door shut and locked it, even going so far as to grab a large armoire and use it to blockade the door for good measure.

Lucian's intentions were very clear to him. He knew nothing about childbirthing or the specifics of the complications that could arise within its process. Only that while thankfully uncommon, things could go wrong during the birth for the would-be mother.

Lucian was not someone with any kind of in depth medical knowledge. First aid sure. He knew a number of ways to field dress a wound and herbal concoctions that could be made on a battle field to staunch a bleeding wound. But those were all temporary remedies more so meant to allow men to survive long enough to see a real healer. Lucian didn't know a thing in the art of medicine that could save Joanna Lannister.

What he did know was something a bit more, unconventional.

It was perhaps something that in this moment, he was actually grateful for that monster Dracula. That evil creature, so fixated on continuing his monstrous bloodline and giving life to his stillborn children that he had cut Lucian open to determine how the Werewolf's own life was made nigh everlasting without being considered Undead like he and his vampiric Brides were.

It was Lucian's blood. Lucian contained not a single drop of human blood within him after his transformation into a Werewolf all those years ago. Instead, the blood that flowed through him; carried within it all the power and supernatural energy of the Werewolf itself.

Including its incredible healing capabilities.

Superficial wounds suffered by someone would heal within minutes thanks to the blood of a Werewolf and the greater the wound, the longer it would take to heal. Dracula had even tested and proven its efficiency in healing a completely mundane human by breaking the man's leg and then feeding him Lucian's own blood.

The very next day the man's legs were unbroken once more.

It also proved that Werewolf Blood did not in fact create more Werewolves as Vampire blood did for Vampires. Where as Vampires were created by the draining the victim of their blood and injecting Vampire blood into them; for Werewolves it was the delivery of their venom via bite into a human's flesh that did the work.

Lucian picked up a candle stick from Joanna's bedside and snapped it in half before slashing open the palm of his hand with a jagged end.

Joanna wouldn't become a Werewolf with only his blood. He had no intention or need to bite her in order to save her life. Neither would she keep the regenerative abilities that his blood would give her; the power of his blood would wear out and fade away over the course of healing her injuries.

Stepping up to the motionless woman he gently reached forward and tilted her head back to open her throat and mouth.

"Come on Joanna. Drink." Lucian placed his bleeding palm against her open mouth, letting his blood to drip into her mouth. "Drink and live."

Joanna swallowed.

XxxX

Lord Tywin Lannister,

It is with incredible regret that I must send this missive to you. In the early hours of the morn your Lady-Wife Joanna Lannister fell into labor of your third child prematurely.

While the birth has been a success in the delivery of your second son, I am unable to send to you only good news. An unexpected complication arose midway through the birthing where Lady Joanna began to bleed far more excessively than normal. Despite my best efforts I have been unable to lessen or staunch the blood flow. The only thing I have been able to do in order to aid Lady Joanna is to alleviate her suffering with a dose of the Milk of the Poppy.

It is, regretfully, in the hands of The Seven now.

I have been unable to remain at your Lady-Wife's side to continue my vigil of her failing health as your Bannerman; Lucian Blood, has invaded the Lion's Wing and violently ejected me from Lady Joanna's side along with the attending Midwife and since barricaded the door.

I fear his intentions, whatever they may be, unsupervised and alone within Lady Joanna's Chambers.

Maester Garth.

The very instant that Tywin had received the Raven that had brought this message to him, the Hand of the King had abandoned his duties and the Small Council meeting he had been currently attending.

He had sent orders for his best riders and horses to be made ready and barely wasted the time to give reason to the King as to his sudden and unexpected departure.

Tywin left Kings Landing at full gallop with five of his best and most capable riders on the fastest horses the Red Keep had in its stable. The Warden of the West had no intention of stopping to allow his horse to rest and so intended and did literally rise his horse to the point of exhaustion and swap into a fresh horse at one of the small farming village that had been built adjacent to the Gold Road and then again at Deep Den.

The Raven he had received would have taken just over three days to deliver Maester Garth's message to him. And if Joanna's condition was as written, then she was already dead. The very thought brought ice to Tywin's heart and the sting of tears to his eyes at the thought of a life without his love at his side.

As was in line with his practical method of running the West and Casterly Rock itself; Tywin had been incredibly specific with what kind of Maester he would permit admittance into his household from the Citadel in Oldtown. He had no need for a Maester with chain links in fields of study that Tywin himself was already skilled in such as Commerce, Politics and Warcraft. He would teach his children those things himself. He wanted a Maester that was knowledgeable in fields that Tywin didn't know, the medical arts being chief amongst those.

Maester Garth was an incredibly skilled man in his field and for the man to have sent him that missive regarding Joanna's impending fate, Tywin was certain that he was now a widower.

In his haste Tywin actually outpaced his own men and left them behind at Deep Den when they took too long in swapping horses and well into his second day of frantic travel was practically leaping from his horse and sprinting across the Courtyard of Casterly Rock.

The attending guards barely had the time to open the doors for him; fully aware of his haste and yet surprised by the sheer swiftness of their Lord.

Years later when asked Tywin would still have no ability to give an answer as to why he had made haste to the Lion Wing and to the Chambers he shared with Joanna. If she was now dead after all she would have been brought to the Lannister Mausoleum for preparation of burial. No Lannister or Servant who wished to continue their time amongst the living would have left her to rot in the bed she had died in.

Perhaps hope? Perhaps in the foolish and impossible wish that any one of The Seven, even if it were the Stranger himself, had answered his cries and prayers to spare the woman he loved?

When he reached the door that led to his Chambers it was the two Lannister men posted on either side of the door that sparked the first sign of something that was not grief or even anger within him.

The men didn't say anything, simply straightening to attention and stepping further away from the door to allow the Lord unimpeded access.

Tywin shelved his confusion and reached for the door. He actually hesitated. The Lion of the Rock, the man who had brought the Reyne's and Tarbeck's to ruin brought about a reputation of a man of decisive and deliberate action; hesitated. He was actually afraid! Afraid of what he would find on the other side of this door. Could he handle to the sight of his beloved Joanna's empty gaze and endure the cold sensation of her skin?

Shaking off his fear, Tywin steeled himself and pushed open the door firmly and stepped into the room.

And then froze again.

On the far side of the room, nestled warmly under blankets with a sleeping infant in her arms and little Cersei cuddled up to her side; Joanna blinked tiredly as she looked over to the door to a Tywin that looked more emotional right now than she could ever remember seeing.

"Tywin, you're here." Joanna smiled sleepily, eyes glazed with fatigue but still bursting with happiness and more importantly; life.

Tywin could find no words. His eyes simply widening at what should be impossible given the message he had received and what his own fears had stewed upon in the journey from King's Landing to Casterly Rock. He looked around the room, almost searching for answers and stopped when he saw Lucian himself seated in the far corner of the room on a chair with Tywin's son Jaime asleep in the tall man's lap.

The grey eyed man simply nodded at him; as if to assure him that what he was seeing was real before closing his eyes and leaning back, careful not to wake the small child.

"Tywin come, meet your new son." Joanna called to him softly.

Almost as if his own body was acting independent to his frozen thoughts, Tywin quietly closed the door to the room and slowly walked over to the bed where Joanna, Cersei and his new son were resting.

When he reached her and shakily reached out a hand to Joanna, she tilted her head into his hand and allowed him to run his fingers through her golden hair and softly hold her head.

She was so warm!

Joanna pulled back on the small blanket that his newborn son was swaddled in and allowed her husband to gaze upon the babe.

His head was misshapen with a building forehead and small, upturned nose.

But, nestled in Joanna's arms as he was with his mother crooning softly as she stroked the babe's cheek with her thumb.

Tywin had never seen something so beautiful.

"Maester Garth has examined him as he was born before I could get to full term." Joanna said quietly. "He cautions that it is likely that our baby boy will likely not grow to full size and will be a dwarf. But he has a strong heart and his breathing is healthy."

Tywin smiled genuinely and softly. "Has he a name?"

"Tyrion. Tyrion Lannister."

Tyrion. Tywin nodded in approval. It was a good name. After the Sage King of the Rock when the West was ruled not by the Iron Throne and the Targaryen's but by the Lannister's alone.

"I, I feared you were gone." The man tore his attention away from his new son and lowered himself to the ground so he could peer into Joanna's eyes. "Maester Garth sent a Raven telling me of a complication during the birth, that you were bleeding. How? How can you still be here?"

Joanna smiled. "I don't know. I only know that it was Lucian who somehow preserved my life. He has asked that he be allowed to not explain what exactly he did until you arrived but whatever he did; it stopped the bleeding and allowed me to recover."

"And you are alright?"

Joanna's smile twitched and her brows furrowed slightly. "I'm still alive so that is all I can truly be grateful and focus upon. But Maester Garth believes that something didn't quite heal right in my bones. It hurts a considerable amount when I attempt to shift at the waist. I have been examined and the Maester believes that whatever Lucian did to save my life did heal me, but something didn't heal quite correctly."

"And where is Maester Garth right now?" Tywin asked.

If his wife was in pain then where was that man if not here at her side ensuring her recovery?

"He is in his chambers attempting to determine a means to repair whatever is still wrong with me." Joanna explained. "I believe he even sent a Raven to the Citadel for more in depth information in this endeavour."

That was, acceptable.

"But you are, alright? Is that pain too much?"

Joanna simply looked back down to little Tyrion and crooned again when the infant shifted in his sleep. "I'm on a regime of a drop of Milk of the Poppy with water every three hours to ensure I am comfortable. And confined to my bed until the Maester can find how to fix me."

The Warden of the West nodded in relief before raising his head to look over to Lucian. The other man was still in his seat with his eyes closed, not asleep; but affording the couple some measure of privacy as he could while still in the room. "Will you be alright if Lucian and I step out to have a word?"

"I'll be fine. go."

Tywin slowly rose back to his feet, reluctant to remove his hands from Joanna and tore his eyes away from his son. As he turned to address the twice now savior of his beloved he saw that Lucian was already approaching the bed with a still sleeping Jaime in his arms.

Gently laying the sleeping boy down on the bed next to his sister, Lucian stepped back after covering the boy with a blanket and made for the door quietly.

When Tywin exited the room behind Lucian and closed the door the man locked his green eyes on the taller man's own.

"How have you done this?" He demanded carefully. "Do not misunderstand, I cannot begin to describe the depths of my gratitude at this moment. I still have Joanna because of whatever it is that you have done. But I cannot simply ignore the fact that according to the Maester; a highly educated man in possession of vast skills in medicine; my beloved wife should be dead. And yet, she is lying in that room. Alive."

Lucian frowned softly before nodding. "It is something that was always going to be discussed eventually. A secret I have kept to myself. It would be best that we have this discussion in a quiet and very out of the way place. Far from any ears and curious minds."

Tywin nodded in understanding. While the Lannister did not approve of a Bannerman having the nerve to dictate terms in most cases; Lucian was riding on an incredible wave of gratitude and good will, so the Lord permitted Lucian his preference.

He lead the taller man into the depths of Casterly Rock deep into his bowels and to the Hall of Heroes; the place where all Lannister's were interred upon their death. The place where he feared that his beloved Joanna was destined for until mere moments ago.

Lucian didn't start speaking immediately when the Lord of the Rock looked to him in silent demanding. Instead cocking his head to the side as if hearing something that Tywin himself could not.

After a moment of silence and what looked like the Lord of Hearthstone smelling the air strangely enough, Lucian opened his mouth and started speaking.

"In my homeland we operate on a different calendar system than is in use here in Westeros. Here it is the year 265 following Aegon's Conquest. Where I am from the equivalent year would be 1891."

Tywin slowly nodded in understanding. It made sense that the year counting system in Westeros would not be the same or even applicable in other distant lands. But why was the year relevant?

"I was born in the year 1438. one hundred and eighty-eight years before Aegon's Conquest."

Tywin wanted to scoff and dismiss Lucian as a madman. But his experience and past conversations with the man he had taken as his Bannerman pointed out a consistency that defied madness; Tywin did not believe Lucian to be one capable of flights of fantasy.

"In my homeland it was very similar to Westeros in the Age of Heroes. Magic and things that are now Myth and Legend were very real in certain places of our land. The influence of Gods were felt just as much as the curses of demons. The man who brought me into the life of a Knight; who was like my brother committed an act of Heresy and after being murdered for his crimes, rose again as a monster that would make the White Walkers of Westerosi myth seem tame in comparison. So great was my love and loyalty toward my friend and brother that I alone refused to acknowledge his evil and tried to support and protect him. In punishment for my loyalty the God of my homeland cursed me. I would become a monster of incredible strength and savagery and cursed to be the sole weapon that could ever kill the monster that my brother had become."

Tywin wanted to dismiss this all as fantasy. Gods and monsters? Magic? Such things died out with the Dragons. If it even truly existed at all. But, Tywin could not disregard the conviction and pain in the grey eyes of the man before him. It was the pain of a man who had lived it and to whom this was all very real.

"The instincts of the creature I had become were at first all consuming. As a Werewolf; the beast I had been cursed into becoming, I was no more than a wild animal. And then the monster my friend had become; Dracula, hunted me down and captured me to endure a life of captivity and torment in his dungeons. I was imprisoned for over four hundred years and subject to every pain and torture that foul creatures twisted sadism could invent. I was forced to create more like me that would be bound in service to him and whenever he grew bored; he would force me to fight and kill the Werewolves I had made."

"What did you do to my wife?" Tywin asked, half afraid that; if this story was indeed true, did it mean that Lucian had turned his wife into a monster? Was that what had saved her life?

"Dracula had his own designs and intentions beyond his incredible sadism and bloodlust. In the attempt to see one of his greatest desires come to fruition he brought about a realisation as to what my existence as a Werewolf is capable of. In the case of your wife; my blood. My ability to turn another into a Werewolf is transmitted through a venom that is secreted through bite. But my blood contains all of my incredible regenerative power. I could jump off of the Wall and shatter my legs completely only to heal and walk away in a matter of days. I used that to saved Joanna's life." Lucian reached down and pulled a dagger out from his boot and held it up to Tywin before using it to cut open his hand, showing the Lannister the spilled blood.

"I fed her some of my blood and her body used its power to stop the bleeding and repair the damage Tyrion's birth had caused her."

Lucian wiped his bloody palm on his pant leg and held it up to show Tywin again. When the blond man saw an unblemished palm his eyes widened.

"Centuries in captivity gave me the time to master myself completely." Lucian continued. "Originally a Werewolf transforms into a large upright wolf of incredible strength and speed under the light of a full moon where the man is buried beneath the animal instincts and savagery of the wolf. I have long since mastered that. The moon holds no sway over me one way or the other and my mind is my own."

"You, are a Werewolf?" Tywin licked his lips to wet his very dry mouth. "And because of that not only are you older than the Iron Throne itself, but were able to save Joanna's life because of it?"

Lucian nodded. "I swore an oath when you gave me a home and life here that I would act as your loyal Bannerman and protect the Lannister family. That was not a lie nor has it changed."

"Show me."

The Werewolf raised an eyebrow at Tywin's demand.

"You tell me that you are this great beast cursed by the gods. Then show me."

Lucian's shoulders dropped and he let out a drawn out breath. "I anticipated as much which was why I asked for us to have this talk in such privacy. But I had hoped you wouldn't ask. Not out of fear for my life or yours. Just that I had hoped not to risk your fear of me."

Tywin narrowed his eyes at the man that had weaved such an impossible tale and, regardless of whatever story told, was still a proven friend of both his house and his family. "Show. Me."

Lucian didn't reply.

He simply stripped off his shirt and loosened the buckle of his trousers. A twist of Lucian's neck and flex of his back and Tywin stepped back in shock and awe as he watched the man before him literally strip himself free of his own flesh and watched as a wolf of immense size seemed to literally step out of what had once been Lucian Blood.

Tywin had to actually crane his neck to look up at the now ten foot tall Werewolf, so tall that he seemed to actually tower over the Lannister statues that filled the Hall of Heroes. Massive muscles on tree-trunk like arms with large pectoral and abdominal muscles covered in a thick pelt of fur. Tywin imagined that this would be like how a child would feel in the north when face with a Direwolf.

Lucian's maw opened, revealing sharp, dagger like teeth before a tongue came out to lick at his chops.

The Lannister felt genuine fear, fear and doubt. Doubt that Lucian had mislead him and that the animal was in control of this terrible monster and fear that if and when Lucian lunged at him, Tywin would not be able to do anything to survive the attack.

But then Lucian surprised the man. Instead of attacking, the Werewolf's now savage and powerful grey eyes softened into an expression of surprising gentleness and his body lowered down into a very knightly kneel. One knee raised and both of those massive clawed hands resting on that raised knee.

When Lucian's head lowered in a bow to the wide eyed and pale Lord of Casterly Rock, Tywin finally did relax.

Tywin didn't move or respond even as The Werewolf rose back to his feet and shrank back down, fur shedding as the man returned.

Lucian remained silent as he retrieved his shredded pants and pulled them back on before pulling on his discarded tunic.

When he was once again decent the Lord of Hearthstone looked back over to the still expressionless Lannister.

Lucian's expression threatened to shift into one of regret after a moment; apparently reaching a conclusion that Tywin was not about to respond with anything but negativity regarding the profound revelation.

A moment later and Tywin turned and made for the Hall's exit, half turning to consider the doubtful Werewolf. "I expect you to return to your chambers and change before you visit Joanna again. I'll not have you turning her eyes to you exposed as you are."

A half amused smirk from the Lannister followed by a nod that meant more to Lucian than all the gold in Casterly Rock, and Tywin left to return to his wife and children.

"I'll be up shortly My Lord."

XxxXxxXxxX

So it took some time but Covid gave the two of us some extra time to devote to a longer than usual chapter for Never Alone. We have been meaning to get back to this story and update it for some time. But personal lives are chaotic and time to get to any kind of writing is unfortunately sporadic.

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