Champion of the Winter

by La Monserga

Gameresque Fic with a few elements of Assassins' Creed thrown in. Not a Crossover Fic. Rated M to be safe. AU. Crossposted in AOE3. Worldbuilding. Jon Snow gains some help from an unexpected source to help him find his origin and purpose in life. Some characters may appear OOC. Contains elements from the novels and the show.

25. Dreams Sent Me A Sign

Dreams…Sent Me A Sign

Winterfell

Ned was sitting at the desk of his solar nursing a cup of ale. A map of the North was spread before him. He was rubbing his forehead with his free hand as he kept looking at the map. It had been two months since the boys had left for the tourney and Ned suddenly found himself in an unenviable position of being thrust into a world where myths were true. Since his meeting with the Children, Ned diligently took his lessons from Old Nan along with his wife and children so they could speak in the Old Tongue. Both him and Cat were having troubles with their dialect and retention because – for Cat, it was an entirely new language for her to learn, whereas Ned was ashamed that the little he had learnt from his father, he forgot due to neglect. He turned bright red whenever Arya and Bran started to giggle at his silly mistakes, they never dared to do the same for their mother, but they knew that their father was a different matter altogether. It was only Sansa that took pity on him and chided her siblings for their behaviour. Ned smiled fondly at the memories of his elder daughter patiently explaining what they got wrong to him and her mother.

He was broken out of his reverie at the sound of the doors to his solar opening. He smiled as he saw Cat entering the room. The Lady of Winterfell was done for the day looking after her house. She gave him a smile as she walked over to the hearth, before which, a giant direwolf slept. Iss opened her eyes as she felt Cat's approach and thumped her tail.

"Hello, sweetling, are you keeping company to your father?" Cat bent down before the wolf. Iss raised her head and licked Cat's hand. "Good girl." The Lady Stark smiled at the she-wolf as she huffed.

Lady Stark stood back up and looked at her husband, she saw him smiling at seeing her interaction with the wolf. Cat approached the desk of her husband and went around it to the side of Ned. The Lord of Winterfell moved his chair and opened his arm for his wife. She gave him a smile as she slid down on his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck to bring him down for a kiss.

Ned smiled and bent his head forward to capture his wife's lips with his own. He felt her snuggle into his chest and deepening the kiss. He rested his forehead against hers and sighed contently.

"What troubles you so, my love?"

Ned opened one of his eyes to see the lovely blue eyes of Cat's peering up at him with concern.

"What made you think that I have troubles, wife?"

Cat returned his smile with a smirk of her own, "Because I know you, Ned Stark. Now, will you tell me?"

Ned smiled as he placed a kiss on the crown of her head. He indicated towards the opened map on his desk with a chin, "I am pondering over which lands we should repurpose for farming fields. I don't know if you are aware of this or not, but the persons we met a while back, haven't been idle. I have farmers praising the Starks because there has been a sudden change to the existing fields around Winterfell resulting in bountiful crops. I have been assured by the farmers that they will harvest almost double than last year, if not triple."

Catelyn had a beaming smile on her face, "That is wonderful news, Ned. But what seems to be the problem?"

Ned put his index finger on the map, pointing at various spots on it, "I have marked these here spots for probable fields. Quite nearer the woods so that our friends do not have any problem accessing them unseen. But it also raises the risk of the farmers staying there being ransacked by the bandits as they are a while away from the main keep. I may wait for the next harvest season so that we can provide the coins based on our granaries, but I want to make the most of the current season. If we can get the fields ready within time, we can produce five times more than last year by my estimation.

In that, lies the crux of my problem. Winterfell's coffer doesn't have the necessary gold to guard stations, provide their wages as well as creating the farming fields and residence for the farmers. We could do it the next year, because of our current bounty…but not this year." Ned sighed and rubbed his forehead.

Catelyn frowned and got up from her husband's lap. She shuffled towards the desk and started to look over the spots Ned had marked down on the map.

"Why don't we use Jon's Gift to get your plans in motion, Ned?"

They had started to call Theon Stark's treasure as 'Jon's Gift' so if anybody not in the know, was listening in to their conversation, wouldn't have any clue to what they were talking about. Since it was Jon who had dreamt of the treasure and helped to unearth it, they were quite happy to term it so. Rickard Karstark and Gregor Forrester too gave their votes to the term.

"I would have if I could. But the gold in the Gift are in form of trinkets, small ingots and coins marked with the Seven Pointed Star. How do I explain those?"

Catelyn didn't answer, she was thinking furiously. Something was nudging at the back of her head. She went towards the bookcase behind the lord's desk and started to go over the spines of the leather-clad old tomes.

"What are you doing, Cat?"

"Hush now, let me think." She shushed her husband, much to his amusement.

She took out quite a few of the tomes from the bookcase and heaved them over to the desk. She kept muttering to herself as she furiously riffling through the pages. Ned, very obediently, kept his mouse shut and watched on as his wife worked.

"Aha! I knew that I read about it somewhere in these!" Catelyn cried triumphantly.

"Am I allowed to speak now?" Ned tried to sound miffed but amusement was evident in his voice.

Cat glared at him, "Oh, quit your whining, Ned. It is quite unbecoming of a lord to behave childishly."

Ned chuckled and got up from his seat, "Do forgive my transgression, dear wife. Now, would you please enlighten me to what you are up to?"

"I just remembered reading something when I first came here. I wanted to learn about my new household and my lord husband's domains. So, while you were still busy down South, I, with the help of Benjen, tried to read through these tomes to learn about the North and Winterfell's history. I had almost forgotten about it all." She pushed the tome towards Ned, "Here, Ned, read these excerpts."

Ned frowned and bent over to read the passages his wife pointed out to him, "These passages were recorded by Grandfather Edwyle."

"Yes, Benjen also confirmed that. Keep reading, Ned." She prodded him on impatiently.

It took him a few minutes to read the pages. He straightened up frowning.

"The records tell about the mint Winterfell once had."

"Yes. There used to be a small gold mine not too far from the keep during Lord Edwyle's reign."

"Aye, but the veins ran dry and thus stopped the supply of gold ores. Grandfather searched for another mine, he even marked down a few possible locations where we may find another small mine." Ned muttered as he read through the records once more, "Father must have known about this, but he never talked about it with me. Brandon might have been aware of this, but…" He sighed and looked up to Cat, "Still, this doesn't solve my problem, love. If I cannot provide the coins to build a few guard stations, how do you expect me to fund an excursion team to search these locations?"

"Oh, do use your head, dear husband." Catelyn snapped at him, "I was not talking about searching for possible gold mines, but the abandoned mint within Winterfell. Now that we have a limited amount of gold in forms of ingots, trinkets and coins, why don't we use the old mint to produce some Gold Dragons from them? Lord Edwyle was meticulous in his record keeping, he had written down every little nuances of running the mint. We have a master smith in Mikken and a fine jeweller in Alastor. Both men are absolutely loyal to us. Granted that none of their current expertise are applicable to our needs, but if they put their heads together, those two master craftsmen could come up with an idea of how to go forward. Not to mention, this here tome will be of immense help for this undertaking, as the old Lord Stark also wrote down the procedures in his own impeccable way." Catelyn took a deep breath as she stopped talking.

Ned kept alternating his gaze at his wife and the tome that lay opened on his desk. He shook his head with a chuckle and moved to his chair to sit down.

"What will I do without you, my love?"

"Whatever it is, I am sure you will do it quite poorly." Replied a very smug Catelyn.

"…and I completely agree with you." Ned sighed, "Truly, Cat, I am so very thankful that you are here to help me look after my family's legacy. All of these were supposed to be Brandon's duty. I am but a poor replacement of him."

Cat leaned down and put her hand on her husband's cheek, "Do not think that way, my love. You are not Brandon, and he certainly was not you. You both have different strengths. Would he have turned a better Lord of the North than you? We will never know. But one thing which I know for sure is you are one of the best to bear the Stark legacy. You have proven it time and again." She lowered her head to kiss him gently.

"Now I believe that you are done with your troubles for the day. Come, let us get a good night's rest and we will deal with the other troubles with renewed strength at the morning."

As they were getting up from their position, Ned's eyes once again fell on the tome Catelyn had been perusing, his eyes caught another map of the North marked with different markers than those of the possible sites of gold mines. He frowned as he took a closer look at the second map.

"What are these then?"

Catelyn looked over the map and consulted it with the recordings of a few pages further. She had a thoughtful look on her face, "According to Lord Edwyle, these are probable locations for Obsidian. Apparently, all Stark lords and heirs are needed to know about these locations – the main source being Skagos. But the small markers that dotted the North are said to have very limited amount of the ore if the current lord feels that he is in dire need and cannot commission Skagos."

Ned rubbed his chin, "Why would we need Obsidian? They are not of the same value as gemstones. Neither are they fit to be used as stone blocks for walls or keeps."

Catelyn hummed as she quickly skimmed about a few pages, not finding any references about the unusual ore, she frowned up at her husband, "I don't think we will find any mentions of its uses in these tomes. They are probably stored at the library."

"Great, that is exactly what I need, more studying." Ned grumbled.

"Don't you dare say things as such in front of the children, Ned Stark. Only the promise to the oldest three that they will once again get to meet with our friends keeps them from misbehaving. Even Sansa. My quiet and beautiful daughter has changed into a wildling." She poked a finger at her husband's chest, "I blame your wolfblood for that." Any sting which could have been taken as a slight against the Starks by her words were dissuaded by the pleased smirk on her face. She had seen her bashful daughter slowly becoming a beautiful and confident young woman, hence her approval of her continuous training with arms.

Ned let her drag him off of his seat and towards the doors out of the solar, "If only it is so. I still have to go and meet with our friends and let them know of these plans…and with my brilliant grasp of the language of my forefathers, I am afraid if I end up insulting them unknowingly."

Catelyn stopped dragging her husband out of the room and turned to look at him with frustration screaming from her expression.

"You daft man. You…" she took a deep breath and closed her eyes in a bid to calm herself down, "Alright, that can be a disaster, though it is quite easily solvable. While I loath to even mentioning this, but it is necessary."

Ned looked at her questioningly.

"Cley has told me about the girls' training. Sansa has become quite proficient with her bow – cannot believe that I am saying this – and she needs to get further experience than the practice yard. Whereas Arya, the competitive little beast that she is, while not as good as Sansa, but has also become quite adept with her bow. Both the girls need to go out hunting to put their skills to test. And who better to teach them the way than their loving father who can take the girls to a little hunting trip. Also making a detour on their way back to meet with certain individuals where our eldest daughter can put her other learned skill to use. I believe it is quite what Old Nan says killing two beasts with a single arrow."

Ned felt a laughter started to bubble inside of his chest trying to get out, but it died as soon as he saw the expression on his wife's face.

"Now, will you please come with me to our bedroom, dear husband, or do I need to spell it out for you why I need you there?"

Ned immediately shook his head and hastened his steps. Iss, when she saw that the humans were leaving, got up and started to padding after them. Ned gulped at that, fearing another rebuke from his wife, turned to the wolf, "Ah…sorry girl, but you need to sleep at your tower tonight."

Iss whined at that stood there stubbornly.

Cat whispered something to her, which Ned couldn't manage to catch, but to his astonishment, Iss gave a huff and turned to go towards the Broken Tower.

"How is it that you always manage to get her listen to you?"

"That is something between us girls, which, your poor male brain can never comprehend." She replied coquettishly over her shoulder and sauntered off towards the lord's bedroom. Ned hurried along after her.

[CotW]

The next day as the Stark family sat down to break their fast, the acolyte that Maester Luwin had left at the keep to carry the duties, came hurriedly inside of the Great Hall carrying a scroll in his hand.

"My Lord, there was a raven from Kings' Landing."

Ned gulped a little, his breathing quickened a little bit. Catelyn and the children looked on eagerly as he took the scroll from the man and broke the seal. He read it once, and sat there silently, contemplating the missive.

"Ned?" Catelyn's voice quivered.

Ned cleared his throat before speaking, "This missive came from the Hand, Lord Jon Arryn. It says that the boys have established quite a close friendship with the Lannister brothers – Jaime and Tyrion. They are having regular spars with the older Lannister, and Jon, being the bookworm that he is, has engaged himself in continuous verbal spars with the younger brother, Tyrion. They spoke and debated about many things, amongst them was the Imp's most favoured subject, the Dance of the Dragons."

Sansa squealed in excitement, "Did Jon finally find mentions of Prince Jacaerys' dragon Vermax laying eggs at Winterfell?"

Ned looked at his eldest daughter in shock, Catelyn too was frowning at her.

"You knew about Jon's studies?"

Sansa blushed, "Er…sometimes, when I had fights with Arya -" She stammered, making her parents frowned at their youngest daughter, who looked back at them defiantly. Sansa was quick to come at her sister's defence, "Oh, no Father! We do not fight now. I was talking about before Jon and Robb went away for their fosterages. Um…at that time, when Arya and I fought, I used to hide in the library, knowing that was one place where she couldn't find me to annoy me more. There, I usually met Jon, who has been reading anything and everything he could find about the Dance. He used to tell me that he would one day find clues if Vermax indeed laid eggs here, and if yes, it would be him who is going to find the clutch."

Ned kept looking at his daughters, who squirmed under his steely gaze.

"Please, Father, we do not fight any longer. Arya is my sister, we argue a lot, aye, but not as much as we did before. And for Jon, he is quite an orator. You should hear him talking about the Greens and the Blacks. He tells those stories as if he has been there himself, watched them all with his own eyes."

Ned could not hold himself back anymore and chuckled, rendering his daughters very confused about their father's behaviour.

"I wonder how much of confessions we would have gotten out of the two of them if I continued with my stare." He said to his wife, making Arya scowl at him and Sansa giving out an indignant huff.

"That was unfair, Father!" Sansa gave him a pinched look.

"Aye, you never did this with Robb and Jon." Arya chimed in.

"Oh no, sweetlings, those two used to receive even more, for their misbehaviours were worse yet." Catelyn brushed the hair of her younger daughter with her fingers.

"Truly? What did they do?"

"I not going to give you ideas for certain, Arya Stark." Catelyn narrowed her eyes at her before turning to look at her husband, "I believe you were telling us about Lord Arryn's letter."

Ned had been looking at his wife and daughter with amusement sparkling in his eyes, he was brought back to the subject of their discussion, he cleared his throat and continued to speak –

"Ah, aye. As I was saying, Jon said that our Jon has convinced Tyrion Lannister to arrange for an excursion at the Dragon Pit, believing that there might have been some hidden relics of the old time. They managed to get permission from Jon and dug under the rubbles there, recovering the ancestral sword of House Royce, the Lamentation." He looked around the table to see all of his children save Rickon were devouring his words with absolute glee, the youngest Stark was concentrating more on feeding his wolf under the table. "Not only that, Jon has indeed found a clutch of dragon eggs along with the sword."

As expected, cacophony erupted from the oldest Stark children at their father's declaration.

"Truly, Father?"

"Jon found dragon eggs?!"

"Is he going to hatch them?"

"Calm down, children. Let me finish." He waited for them to quiet down, "To answer your questions, aye, it is true that their excursion has borne fruit and they truly found dragon eggs at the Pit. But no, they are not going to be hatched. They have been buried under the rubbles for over a century, and I am sorry to say that time has turned them to stones. The Lannister Imp and our boys have decided to give the eggs to the Throne as gifts." He rolled the scroll back up and tucked it away.

"Go on, children, it is time for your lessons with Lady Ella. We will talk more on this later." Catelyn shooed them off of to their studies. Afterwards, she followed her husband back to the lord's solar.

"I believe that was not all Lord Arryn has written in his missive, Ned." She said without any preamble after shutting the doors behind her.

Ned sighed as he crashed down onto his chair behind the desk. He reached for the tumbler to pour two glasses of ale for his wife and himself.

"It was not only dragon eggs that Jon discovered."

Catelyn waited for her husband to continue.

"It appears that the Mad King truly went over the edge in his last days. He had appointed the head of Pyromancers' Guild as his hand and had him stash caches of wildfire throughout the city. He planned to burn it all to the ground if there was any indication of the apparent fall of the Targaryen dynasty. If it was not for Ser Jaime Lannister, all of us who partook in the Rebellion, would have had the weight of half a million souls on our conscience."

Catelyn sat there, stunned and horrified about the absurdity of the entire history that would have been hidden forever if it was not for one boy who had taken it upon himself to reach out to two individuals whom he felt would benefit for a supportive shoulder to lean on. She decided to visit the Crypt and have a little conversation with her goodsister, she needed to thank Lyanna, the girl that she had befriended all those years ago just out of familial duties, but her son turned to be the very thing this continent needed to get back up again and heal from the past scars.

"I condemned an innocent man for all these years with false accusations, Cat. Was I really so blinded in my grief and vengeance? What else I have been wrong about? Robert and his obsessions with Lya; ignoring Rhaeger's missive when he reached out to me; hiding everything from my wife so I can remain true to a friend whom I am started to doubt has never been a friend at all…and above all, how I raised Jon. Was Robb right, my love? Have I always been trying to shade my wolfskin to wear a false set of antlers? Who am I, Cat?"

Catelyn hurried out of her chair to go around the desk and kneeled down beside his chair, she caught the distraught man in her arms and laid his head on her shoulder as he sobbed. She wondered through her own tears what she could tell him to console the broken man.

[CotW]

It had been near about two weeks since the day Lord Stark had received the raven from Lord Arryn. He had sequestered himself within his solar for the two following days, it was upon the Lady of the House to make her husband come to his senses. It was only when she said that the children had started to get worried about their father's sudden disappearance, that he managed to control his emotions a little and came out of his self-inflicted isolation, for the sake of his children.

On the second day after his return, he had taken his daughters out of the keep for a little hunting trip – that was what the lord and lady had told the household. Lady Catelyn was worried that people would think it otherwise that Lord Stark had suddenly took his daughters along with him without any guards save for their wolves, but it appeared that her fears were unnecessary. It was an open secret that the lord's daughters were receiving lessons in arms. Thus, for the Northerners, who were used to strong women standing shoulder to shoulder with menfolk to face any and all adversity, the trip was nothing but negligible. Above all, most of the old staff were used to see the lord's daughter riding out on hunting trips with her brothers. Lady Lyanna was still a fond memory kept alive in the hearts of the North.

Sansa had proven herself to be quite an adept pupil of her lessons. Ned would dare to say that his eldest daughter was even better at the lords' lessons than his heir, Robb. She was quite curious when her parents had sent for her to come to the lord's solar. She eagerly agreed with their propositions and gave her consent to act as sort of contact between the Children and her father. When they went for their pretend hunting trip, she appeared as poised and demure in her interaction with the mythical beings as she would with any other lords of the realms. Ned was proud of her daughter, his eldest children – Robb, Jon and Sansa, were the guides to bright future that the North had been waiting for.

Arya had peppered the being called Wind with her numerous, inane questions, making Ned quiver in fear that the Child would be affronted by his overeager daughter. But his fear was for nought, he couldn't help himself but chuckle when he saw that Wind and Arya were wrestling with Nymeria, the sound of their laughter rang within the snow covered, leafy canopy of the Wolfswood. The girls were happier when on their way back, the both of them had hunted a few small games to show off their budding skills in weapons.

Ned's contemplation of the past few days came to a stop when the acolyte again rushed into the Great Hall with another missive clutched in his hand, once again during the morning meal. Ned frowned at the seemingly repetitive pattern of the incidents. He accepted the scroll and broke the seal bearing the mark of House Arryn along with the Hand of the King. The unease started to grip his heart when he discovered that there were two pieces of parchment in the missive. With trembling hands, he opened the second one, only to fold it immediately and stowing it away. Jon had sent him a message in secrecy that he had taught them during their staying at Eyrie. He would need to go over the message when he was alone. Gritting his teeth, he opened the other missive, and sat their dumbfounded by the content of the parchment.

"Ned?!" Cat's voice broke him out of his reverie.

He decided that he should read the message aloud rather than telling them of its content.

Dear Ned,

I am sure you will be quite curious and fearful because of the short duration of time of my missives to you. However, you do not have to worry, because this one carries nothing but joyous news for you and your family.

You will be happy to learn that your sons have earned quite a following in the Capitol. They were already famous for their heroics that the bards have been singing all around the realms. Now, the people have witnessed the truth of those rumours right before them.

Young Jon Snow and Torrhen Karstark were among the three contestants to reach the final stage of the Archery contest, the Karstark lad came in third while young Jon has beaten a knight from Vale, Ser Hugh Pryor and secured the first place of the contest.

Later, all for of the young men took part in the melee, while the other three couldn't manage to advance the final stages only because of their inexperience, young Jon once again prevailed, and emerged as one of the final two fighters to remain standing – the other one was Ser Jaime Lannister.

After a brilliant display of swords, dual wielding at that, young Jon was finally bested by the more experienced Ser Jaime. He has impressed everyone present with his skill. I, also, am quite impressed by him, and I have seen the likes of Ser Arthur Dayne, Ser Barristan Selmy in his prime…even Prince Rhaeger Targaryen.

You will be proud to know that your son's valour and skills have earned him his spurs. Yes, Ned, Ser Jaime has knighted young Jon right after the conclusion of the melee. Jon Snow is now a knight of the realms, known to all as 'Ser Jon, the White Wolf; Protector of Innocents; the Sword of Justice', no more the Bastard of Winterfell.

On the ensuing day of rest, I had asked him if he was willing to participate in the joust, he was yet undecided till then. But on the day of the jousting, lo and behold, your son rode out wearing armours that would make even the sturdiest men cower before him. Once again, he had proved his blood, for he has won the melee, Ned. He has unhorsed the likes of Renly Baratheon, Yohn Royce, Barristan Selmy, he even rode against the Mountain, Ser Gregor Clegane and emerged victorious. Sadly, Ser Gregor succumbed to an accident during their bout.

You have raised fine lads, Ned. I envy you whenever I lay my eyes on your heir Robb Stark, or on Ser Jon. Even the King himself has confided to me that he was envious of you. I do not know about the rest, but I certainly feel myself fortunate that you have allowed your sons to visit us in the South, and thus allowing us a glimpse of the Northern might of the future.

I pray to the Seven that if I have been a true follower, then I want to become your father in blood in my next life, just so I can claim the bragging rights that I have grandsons such as these fine young men.

Take care of yourself and your family, Ned, and I hope you have fond memories of the time we have spent at Eyrie.

Yours truly,

Lord Jon Arryn

Lord Paramount of the Vale,

Hand of the King

Ned looked up from the parchment and cast his eyes about the table. As expected, everybody present had the biggest smiles he had ever seen on their faces, but it was his children that made him shiver, for they each had the widest wolfish grins etched on their faces.

[CotW]

"Ned?"

"Aye, love?"

"About Lord Arryn's letter…what he wrote about the Mountain…"

"Aye, I have my doubt, and if I am correct in my assumptions, then He has avenged his family."

"Always the reckless ones…both of them. I blame your stupid wolfblood, husband."

"Sometimes, I also blame the wolfblood myself."

"May I know about the second missive?"

"A rather sensitive series of information and instructions written in the secret way that I was taught in my fosterage. Two things stood out to be more concerning than the rest. The first one is – Lion cubs could be pretending to be fawns."

"By the Gods! Is he certain?"

"Knowing him, I would say he has his doubts…but, if there is something to raise his doubts then that is an absolute fact. He is hunting for the proofs as we speak."

"Do I even want to know about the second?"

"It is most puzzling one – Draw the Runes, it is time for the Falcon chick to leave the nest and fly with the Northern wind."

"What does that even mean?"

"I need to send an immediate missive to Lord Royce…time is of the essence."

---

White Harbour

On the Kingsroad

Kurt had never been away more than a few alleyways from his house back at Flea Bottom. Once, he could recall that his father had taken him and his little sister along to the docks to show them where he worked. He was amazed to see the big ships which were anchored there. His father had pointed out to him ships from different realms of the Seven Kingdoms. He even saw some vessels which had come from the far lands of the east. But it was all in the past. Now, he didn't have a father or a mother. Even his little sister, Anna, had left him alone in this world. He was scared, he was hurt, he was hungry and tired. He had nowhere to go. He could only remain at the place where their home used to be, or he could be near the alley of the tavern in which his mother used to work. He tried to go to the docks, but he was afraid. Any loud noise made him flinch, it always reminded him of the sound he had heard while he was taking a piss at that night. One moment, he was asleep, snuggling close to his mother, and in the next few moments, he was turned into an orphan, with nowhere to go.

The tavern owner was a rather generous man, he never chased him away whenever he lingered beside the doors to his trade. He even offered him bits of food when there was a lull in the business, in exchange of a few small, odd chores. One day, after finishing one such chore, he sat down to think about his lost family, when he was picked up by someone. He was scared, of course, he had heard that there were folks who carried off children such as him and they were never heard from again. His mother used to warn him and his sister about such men, only Anna always wanted to explore the city and used to run off on her own.

Kurt thought that the man who picked him up in his arms was going to kill him and stuff him down in pieces to the pot that was boiling all day long and everyone from the Bottom got a bowl o' brown at the end of the day. Nobody knew what was in the stew, but he had heard from his friends that their parents told them whenever a anyone went missing, they ended up in pot in pieces. It went without saying that Kurt was relieved to recognise the man, he was the White Wolf, the same man who had found Anna that day and told them stories and sang to them. When he asked him about his sister, he couldn't stop himself from crying. He remembered how Anna was humming the tune of the lord's song all the way to their home, then talking to their mother about how the handsome White Wolf had carried her in his arms and bought sweets for her.

He didn't remember what happened afterwards, but later, he found himself in the company of a strange man. He said that his name was Wade, and he was brought in the barracks of the Northern men by the White Wolf. Wade told him that it was his duty to care for him since the White Wolf had entrusted him with his care. He was taken to wash and was given clean clothes to wear afterwards. Wade had told him stories from the North, about their battles. He told them how the White Wolf had taken them all to see the Wall. He even took them beyond that and into the forest which were almost half buried in snow. The place was colder than the North according to Wade.

Kurt kept his mouth shut and listened to everything Wade was telling him. It was true that he didn't have anything of import to tell back to the man, but when Wade asked him what he thought about the tells he had told Kurt, only for him to laugh when he replied that he wanted to see the snow covered fields. Wade had patted his back and consoled him by telling him that it was not all too surprising for him to say seeing that he was a summer child (Kurt had asked him about being 'summer child' to know that since he was born during the summer season, he was considered that), as well as being from the South where none had seen snow in their entire life.

Wade had taken him along to see the King's tourney. He had been to the tourneys before, but he always sat with the other children from the Bottom, far from the ground to see anything clearly and only clapped when everyone else clapped. This time, he sat with the Northerners just beside the tourney ground and saw the White Wolf as he was shooting arrows, fighting against men after men, and then rode on a horse to knock the others off of theirs. The bards that sang back at the Bottom about the 'Prowling Wolf' knew nothing, the man in person was more impressive than all the songs and stories told about him.

It was not always storytelling and fun for Kurt. While it was true that he didn't need to work for meals anymore, because Ser Jon had sat down with him and talked to him about how he intended to become his patron, Wade told that meant the White Wolf would be responsible for his wellbeing and would ensure that Kurt would become a man that his parents would have been proud of. Thus, started the various lessons for the boy named Kurt Wagner. He was shaken awake every day at dawn by Wade. Afterwards, he was to take part in the training that the men went through. Wade had taught him how to do the exercises to get his body fighting fit. He had watched how Ser Jon and his brothers trained each morning, they would run, jump around, took tumbles on the ground only to shot back up. They would wield their swords and other weapons. He had eagerly followed how Ser Jon sparred with Ser Eric while both of them wielding two swords. Even Wade was fascinated by that and taken to practice with two swords.

Wade also started to teach him letters and numbers. Kurt found these lessons even more arduous than his physical training, but Wade had this manic gleam in his eyes whenever they sat down for their lessons in the evenings. Many had taken to call him Maester Wade, but to the man himself, it was as if they were finally using his proper honorific. Kurt, who was not aware that the others were only mocking, had taken to call the man, Maester just because it made him happy. Often times, Ser Jon would come down and sit with them during their lessons. He would encourage the lad to read and do the sums. He even brought a tome with him one time, Kurt was asked to read out from that and he was amazed at himself when he had haltingly started to read stories from the tome. Ser Jon had the proudest smile on his face, rivalling the smile that was etched on Maester Wade's face. When he saw the effect of his efforts had on the men he respected, Kurt made an oath to himself that he would put forth his best efforts in everything for them to be proud of him.

There were talks around him that the time was approaching for them to leave Kings' Landing since the tourney was over. Kurt had been waiting eagerly to leave the place where he had lost his entire family in a single night. Maester Wade had wanted to take him to the Bottom so he could say his farewell to his friends, but Kurt begged off. He didn't want to go there because everywhere at Bottom reminded him of his parents and Anna. Then one day, Maester Wade woke him up even before the dawn and told him to prepare for their departure. He had also told him to be quite about it since they were planning for a prank. Kurt didn't know on whom they were playing the prank, but he loved to have a good laugh.

Soon, they were leaving the barrack of the Red Keep, everyone was talking about the King with Ser Jon and his brothers were going for a hunt. Kurt kept his mouth shut and made himself small as he sat in front of Maester Wade on his horse. He kept looking around as they got out of the Red Keep along with the King's men. Then suddenly, the people who were riding beside them, took to a different alleyway. Ser Eric rode ahead of them as they reached the docks. It was the first time Kurt came here since those times when he was even younger than Anna and came here with his father. They got down from their horses and Ser Eric warned Maester Wade to keep his head down before walking towards a different direction than them. Kurt looked back at the way they came from, if what the Maester had told him to be true, then it would be a long time before he was to set his foot again in this part of the world.

[CotW]

Kurt had only heard of the places from the men who visited the tavern back at the Bottom, places such as Dragonstone, Claw Isle, Gulltown. Maester Wade had pointed those out to him, since he had seen it all on his own way to the Capitol. Kurt was quite sick at first, he couldn't keep his meals down and always had a headache. Maester Wade had told him stories to soothe his pains. He told him about Ser Jon's first travel on a ship. The hilarious tales of how Ser Jon, Lords Torrhen and Asher had threatened Lord Robb when the later had bragged to them about his immunity to sea voyages.

The weather had turned colder than he was used to when their ship passed the mountain ranges of the Vale. Maester Wade laughed heartily when he saw Kurt shivering by the chill upon the deck. He ruffled his hair and claimed it would get much colder as they travel further north. Kurt didn't think it was possible for the weather to get any colder but he was proven wrong as their ship entered the water of the Bite. He watched worriedly as the crew and the passengers became edgy as the neared the islands of the Three Sisters. According to Maester Wade, people from the Sisters were infamous for being raiders. The lords of North had complained time and again to Lord Stark about the raiding and pillaging, but the Lord Paramount was rebuffed every time he forwarded the plights of Northmen to the Capitol. In Wade's opinion, the fucking Southerners had always taken advantages of the familial relationship between the Lords Paramount of Vale and North respectively.

When their ship finally docked at the port of White Harbour, Kurt started to understand what Maester Wade meant about experiencing the true cold. Shivering, he went with the Northmen to the court of Lord Manderly. He had his eyes bugged out of his head as he saw the girth of the Mermaid Lord. Kurt had seen fat men before, but none of them could ever reach this lord in the matter of wideness. The lord had asked them about their time down south at the Capitol and gleefully ordered his men to arrange for a feast in the name of the White Wolf. In his word, the son of North had shown the Southern cunts what it meant to be a true warrior.

They were on their way towards Winterfell early on the next day. The previous night, the four of them – Kurt, Wade, Martyn and Allen were thoroughly questioned by almost everybody present at the feast. Though none of them save Wade Poole was of noble born, they were all given seats right beneath the lord's table, among the other vassals of the Manderly's. Everyone wanted to hear about how Jon Snow slew the Mountain. Granted, it was an accident, but none had anything good to say about the Western knight for his deeds during the Rebellion, for a true Northerner never disrespects a woman…and for a man who raped and killed a mother after killing her son in front of her eyes, Gregor Clegane was hated throughout the Northern realm.

They were warned as they left New Castle about the recent rise in bandit activities around the port town of White Harbour. Lord Manderly provided them with a couple of guards that the three Stark men gratefully accepted. As before, Kurt was riding with Wade. They were about half a day away from White Harbour, when he tugged the reign of his horse to make it stop advancing. They had just left a small village behind them, the Kingsroad could be seen ahead from their position.

"Maester Wade…?" Kurt looked around, puzzled why the man suddenly stopped the horse.

"Men, I am having quite a funny feeling in my bones." Wade said with a wide smile on his face.

[CotW]

He had almost missed the disturbance within the copse of trees just before the Kingsroad if it was not for the lad sitting in front of his saddle turned his head towards the same direction. Kurt mayhaps didn't do that on purpose, or even understood why he had looked particularly at that direction, but Wade knew that the lad had good instincts and sharp reflexes. He would need to tell Wolf about this, they definitely needed to train Kurt to hone his inborn instincts. He didn't waste time and stopped his horse just a way from where he was now sure the bandits were hiding behind.

"Maester Wade?"

Wade smirked hearing that. Wolf had japed with him being a Maester when he took it up on himself to teach the lad his letters and numbers, and the rest of the fucking shits had thought it was hilarious to call him Maester. But Wade knew better, he was teaching the lad after all, wasn't he? Then why shouldn't he be called Maester Wade. He was as wise as any of those grey robed old fuckers.

"Men, I am having quite a funny feeling in my bones." He hadn't taken his eyes off of the hiding spot of the bandits.

The four Manderly men looked at him with confusion, but Martyn and Allen knew him very well. Funny feeling in his bones surely meant someone else was going to lose their limbs.

"What is it, Maester Wade?" Martyn asked worriedly.

He fought hard to keep his laughter from bursting forth. He didn't want the men in hiding to know that he was aware of their presence. They couldn't see them because he had stopped their progress just behind the cover of some trees with thick trunks.

"Kurt, how is your training with the bow going, lad?"

Kurt was surprised to be asked the sudden question, "Oh, er…It is goin' quite well, Maester. Ser Jon trained me a bit an' I can now land me shots quite near the targets at fifteen paces."

"Fifteen paces, eh? Well, that is better than nothing. Do you think you can climb this tree here?"

"Um…I reckon so, aye." The poor boy was having trouble to keep at pace with Wade's line of questions.

"Wonderful. Here, let me help you up. Try to reach for that branch there, the one that is covered by those leaves. I will toss up you a bow and a quiver once you are secured."

Wade looked on as Kurt followed his instruction and secured himself up on the branch before he handed over a bow and a quiver with a few arrows up to him.

"Listen carefully, lad. There are some bandits hiding just ahead. No wonder, they are planning to attack us for anything they can get their filthy hands on. Fucking cowardly cunts!" He spat, "I want you to aim for them till we reach near those fuckers to rip their balls off. Think ya can do that?"

Kurt had gone white from hearing what Maester Wade wanted him to do. He stammered down at him –

"Um…Maester…I don' think I can shoot them from here. I only practiced from fifteen paces an'…an' me shots were never -"

Wade cut him off with a wave of his hand, "Don't you worry about all of that, Kurt. Just remember to shoot at that direction. If you see 'em riding horses, aim for the horses. Else, I want ya to shoot where they will be standing together." He winked at him, "I reckon a couple of arrows are all ya going to need. Leave the rest to us."

Allen looked worriedly at Wade, "Alright, Wade. What are you planning to do?"

"We don't have our armours on, and only have two guards with us." He indicated at the Manderly men with them, "Them fucking cunts think that we are unprepared. Let them think so. Keep your sword arms free and within reach of your swords. We will ride out slowly, with the guards riding in front of us." He turned towards the Manderly men, "You two, you will leave a space between your horses for me to ride hard and fast. Let us hope that the lad up there manages to land a shot or two to disorient them."

"Do you think it is wise, Wade? The lad is not that good with his bow after all." Martyn frowned.

"I ain't called Maester Wade for nothing, ya know? I trust the lad. Besides, an arrow wheezing past your head will make you piss in your breeches, even if he misses his shots." Wade had a disturbing grin on his face, "Think nothing more on it. We are riding out now. Take your positions."

The Manderly men positioned themselves on the flanks, keeping the plain clothed Stark men in between them, Wade was riding a little ahead of Martyn and Allen. He was humming loudly –

Sem kindr, þú munu bíð

r ok watch fran far away

en þú always veitumk at þú munu munu einninn

at vinnhviler þeir allr play

(As a child, you would wait

And watch from far away

But you always knew that you would be the one

That work while they all play)

They could hear Kurt humming the chorus of the song, as Wade had taught him the words of the Northern marching song in Common Tongue –

"Here we are, don't turn away friend,

We are the warriors that bled for this land.

Here we are, don't turn away friend,

We are the warriors that bled for this land…

From heart."

Just as Wade predicted, the moment the party bound for Winterfell came out of their cover, a group of about ten bandits came out of their hiding place. Wade smirked at seeing the leader of the bandits was the only one on a horseback brandishing a sword, the rest were on their feet wielding assortments of weapons. The bandits were gleeful seeing the five men coming towards them – three travellers and only two guards. The bandit leader could be found almost salivating at the prospect of the fat purse they would find this day. After all, who but the wealthiest of merchants would warrant a couple of guards from a lord.

Wade bared his teeth in a vicious smile as he could hear the distant faint sound of the twang Kurt's bowstring made as he let loose of his arrow. It wheezed over their heads and embedded itself at the rump of the leader's horse. It neighed at the sudden pain and stood on its hind legs, throwing the startled man off of his saddle.

The rest of the bandits were in utter disarray, they were not expecting their leader to kiss the ground as they were just about to sink their greedy little claws in the flesh of the scrumptious prey, neither did the expect the said prey to break out of their trots and thundering down on them, brandishing spears in their hands. Even the seemingly safer ones in the middle had arms in their hands. Another arrow again flew out of nowhere and landed just in front of a cluster of men. They were looking at the still quivering shaft that jutted out from the ground, so disturbed by the sudden happenstance, as well as the absence of any command from their leader, caught them all unaware and the five horsemen broke into their ranks.

Wade had thrusted his spear and eviscerated a man wearing a worn-out leather armour. His next thrust of spear lodged it underneath its victim's body because the man had turned in his death throes and had the spear locked between his body and the ground. Wade unsheathed his sword and freed his feet from the stirrups. He balanced himself as he climbed atop the saddle and jumped off of the running horse, right on top of one of the bandits. He didn't waste any time as he put the sword through the man's neck. Next to him, Martyn, Allen and the two Manderly men had finally arrived and got off from their horses too. The five battle hardened men, three of them were part of a Northern legends of current time – the Wolf Pack, had quite easily dispatched the bandits. Divesting the wounded and surrendered men of their arms, Wade had them all executed after a short discussion among them. They planned to take the still unconscious leader with them bound and gagged to Winterfell. He had asked Kurt if the lad wanted to be spared of the brutality of the execution. But the boy had amazed him by asking 'what would Ser Jon do', Wade told him that the Wolf had executed men himself when he was not that much older than Kurt was. Naturally, Kurt insisted that he wanted to follow the knight's path. Wade had let him be but kept a close watch on the boy as they beheaded the bandits and burned their bodies.

As they resumed their journey, Wade couldn't stop himself from smirking down at the boy sitting in front of his horse, "You are donning your Northern furs, aren't ya, lad?"

"Um…"

"Oh, you will be a joy to teach, Kurt…aye, you sure would."

---

Winterfell – A little over two weeks since Lord Arryn's second missive

Arya was taking a little breather for herself from her studies. She didn't skip her lessons any more since the annoying and stupid Septa Mordane had gone away from the North, but she still yearned for the moments that she used to have when she gave her the slip and hidden herself in places where she could be pondering the deeper mysteries of life – such as why her father's beard felt so scratchy when he kissed her or what in the name of the Gods Theon was talking about with some of the guards when they were all idly chatting about someone called Ros.

Now, her lessons with Lady Ella and mother were more interesting than the stupid needlework she was forced to do. The ladies taught her and her siblings about the lands. Lady Ella taught them about the North and the Northern houses and cultures, whereas her mother taught them about the South. They also had very interesting lessons with Maester Luwin, but since the old man went away with her brothers, the acolyte wasn't as interesting in their lessons. The man simply didn't have the knowledge to answer all the questions Sansa, Bran or herself would ask. To him, all the questions seemed to have one single answer – it was all written in these here tomes, study them and you will get your answers. Even Sansa with all her patience got annoyed with the man for his lack of knowledge. So, in her mind, none could blame Arya if she had given the Not-Maester a slip and hid herself away in one of her preferred hiding spot from where she could observe the yard and the men who were practicing there. Nobody save Jon knew about this hiding spot of Arya.

Thinking about her brother made Arya frown. Jon had become even more stupid and much more unbearable than Robb since they went away for their fosterages. Before, Jon used to spend a lot of his time with her. But when he came back, he had become friendly with Sansa, he even let her carry his bird with her, but not Arya. Well, Sansa was not as stupid as she used to be, but still, Arya was Jon's little sister. If anyone could claim to carry Jon's bird, it should have been her, not Sansa.

Then, he went away again for longer than a year. This time, although he brought back Iss with him and the she-wolf gave birth to the wolf pups, and she would fight against anybody who dared to badmouth her Nymeria, but it still didn't abate Arya's disappointment in her brother. Jon had become a completely different person. Aye, he still mushed her hair whenever he saw her or call her 'Little wolf', but he had become more like their father. And above all, he spent his times with stupid Robb and their stupid friends. Arya's only solace was that Sansa felt the same as her. Jon hadn't told her about his travels or the fact that he had met with the Children at their home beyond the Wall. Arya would get his revenge on her stupid brother. She had already began to plan for the retribution with Sansa. Jon wouldn't be so conceited once he came back.

Her rumination had come to a stop by a commotion at the East Gate. Arya frowned at that but perked up when she heard that there were riders approaching the keep. She jumped down from her perch atop the haystack and ran towards the gate. She was always fast, but she became an unimpeded runner rather than Arya Underfoot as she was known before. Jon and her had used to run after her cat to try and catch him. She had laughed in the beginning when it was her brother who tripped over people or knock them down. She was happy that it wasn't her who became 'Underfoot', if only for a short while. But later, Jon had encouraged her, as well as himself, to run fast and never let any hurdle dither them from their goals. She came to know afterwards that Jon had trained himself to overcome all obstacles in his path to run fast, steady and uninterrupted. Another reason for her wanting to whack Jon with a club, because it was their secret. Jon had trained himself and his friends to practice and master this skill but didn't help her.

Arya skidded to a halt as she reached the East Gate. From the conversation around, she understood that five men were coming in riding fast. Two of the men were wearing the Manderly livery and the rest were in normal garbs. She looked closely as the men rode through the gate, trying to find who they were. Suddenly, her eyes widened as she recognized one of the riders.

Wade had returned home.

[CotW]

A wide smile formed on his face as he got off the horse. He took a deep breath, trying to assimilate all the smells and noises around him. This was home. Granted, he was only away from here for a few months only, but the cold air, the gloomy, cloudy sky, the snow strewn lands – they all felt as a mother's embrace to him. Wade smiled happily and turned to help Kurt off of the horse. He should have anticipated the small figure that slammed into him and almost tackled him to the ground.

"Lady Arya." He smiled down at the small girl who had latched herself to his waist.

The said lady let go of him as if she was scalded with hot water. She scrunched her face and looked up to Wade, "Do not call me a lady!" She spat venomously.

"How can I not? You are a lady of the House Stark, My Lady." Wade's smile only got bigger as he spoke.

Arya became even more furious by that, she scowled at the grinning loon of front of her, "Want me to thump you? Because I will if you do not stop!" She threatened the big idiot.

Wade let out a deep, belly laugh. How he had missed all these.

"Forgive me, Little Wolf. But blame your brothers for it. They made me swear that I call you a lady the moment I see you."

Arya's eyes widened with disbelief and betrayal, "Jon and Robb told you to call me a lady?"

"Aye, they did. They said that since they can't tease you themselves, they had to do their brotherly duties with me acting in their stead."

Arya stomped her foot, "You are just as stupid as they are!"

"That I do not disagree with you." Wade got down on his knees, "Now, would you not give your 'in stead' brother a hug to welcome him home, Little Wolf?" He held out his arms wide for Arya to once again slam into him.

"I have missed you, Wade."

"Aye, Little Wolf, I have missed you too."

She had let go of him but not before whacking him in his head, "That was for calling me a lady, stupid."

Wade only chuckled at that. Arya looked over his shoulders and her eyes narrowed.

"Who is this?"

Wade turned around to follow her gaze and found Kurt who was fidgeting behind him. The lad hurriedly lowered his head as the two turned to see him.

"This is my acolyte, Kurt. Come here, lad."

"What do you mean by your acolyte?"

Before he could answer her question, Wade had spotted the Lord of Winterfell, Eddard Stark was standing with his uncle, Vayon Poole, the steward of the keep at the far end of the yard, watching their interaction with interest. Lady Stark could be seen hurrying along with the eldest Stark daughter only steps behind her to join the lord. Wade looked back at Arya and ruffled her hair.

"Forgive me, Little Wolf, but I must go and greet your lord father." Arya turned her head to see that her parents were looking expectantly towards them, she nodded her head glumly.

"Ah, don't be sad, Little Wolf, I promise that I will find you to tell stories from my travels once I am done with the meeting with Lord Stark, aye?" He asked her for her to brighten up immediately. "Could you also do me a favour and keep a watch on my acolyte while I am busy? You have my thanks, Little Wolf." He didn't give her a chance to reply to that request and strode towards the Stark lord and lady.

"Good day, My Lord; My Ladies; Uncle." He bowed to the people.

"Good day to you too, Wade. Welcome back." Lord Stark gave him a nod while his uncle and the ladies Stark gave him a welcoming smile.

"I hope there was not any magnifying circumstances that brought you back home rather than keeping company to my sons, Wade?" Lord Stark raised an eyebrow.

"No, My Lord. The situations provided me with the time and chance to return home for a short while before I re-join my brothers of the Pack."

"And these circumstances you speak of, do they concern the lad you brought along with you? Or the man bound and gagged there?"

Wade turned towards the men who were unloading the horses they rode in. A couple of Stark guards took custody of the bandit leader while a few servants gathered the saddlebags, travelling equipment and weaponry.

"The lad is part of the reasons, My Lord, aye, but the man is just an added benefit of our journey from White Harbour to here." Wade's manic smile would give anyone that never knew him a pause to approach.

Ned shook his head, there is the Wade Poole we all know – He thought to himself.

"Very well, we will meet with you to discuss these reasons after you have a chance to rest."

"Um, My Lord, if it would please you, I think we should have our conversation first." Wade signalled for the servant who was carrying his personal belongings to come forward, "For I have come bearing gifts, My Lord."

[CotW]

"Who are you?"

"Um…my name is Kurt, m'lady. Kurt Wagner."

"Don't call me a lady!"

"Aye, m'lady."

"Arrrgh! Did Jon told you to do this?"

"Erm…I don' know what ya talkin' about, m'lady. Ser Jon only teaches me to read and…and trains me in arms."

"You mean to say that you are a page for Jon?"

"Aye, m'lady."

"Uff…will you stop calling me my lady?!"

"Sure, m'lady."

"What are you? Stupid?"

"No, m'lady. I am Kurt Wagner, page for Ser Jon, the White Wolf an' a pupil of Maester Wade."

"Wade is not a Maester, stupid."

"Um…he teaches me my letters and numbers…"

"So?"

"An' he teaches me about war an' arms an' how to ride an' how to shoot…"

"Aye, so?"

"Ser Jon says that's more than what a Maester does. Why wouldn't I call him Maester Wade then?"

"Maesters also treat sick people and treat them with medicines."

"Aye, m'lady, Maester Wade once patched up Ser Jon after he got a bruise in one o' the spars."

"Agh…because Wade is not a Maester. He does not have a Maester's chain links."

"Not true. Maester Wade wears a chain on his neck, not the big, clunky one as Maester Luwin, but a smaller one, m'lady."

"Aye, he wears it to have his mother's ring with him. But it is not a Maester's chain."

"No, but it is Maester Wade's chain, m'lady."

"You are stupid!"

"No, m'lady, I am Kurt…did you forget?"

"Forget it, I am not talking with you anymore…"

"Did I say something wrong, m'lady?"

"Arrrgghhh!"

[CotW]

Ned Stark leaned back into his chair, his shoulders had slumped as he continued to listen to Wade. Catelyn was sitting beside him and had the tightest grip on his wrist. Both were tensed and appeared to be quite fearful by what they were hearing. By the time Wade was finished with his tale, Ned had his eyes closed and was tiredly rubbing his forehead.

"So, you are saying that at first, Jon had not intended to take part in the jousting, but changed his mind when the Westlanders came along with Lord Tywin and the Mountain. Afterwards, he went through some elaborate plans with the help of you and the others to not only they ensure Jon had to face the Gragor Clegane, but to dispose of his corpse in such a way that your desecration of the said corpse went unnoticed?"

"Aye, My Lord, that is the gist of it."

Ned jumped to his feet and slammed his fists on the desk, "Were all of you had lost your fucking sanity?" His roar made Wade flinch in his seat.

"Ned!" Catelyn too had clambered on her feet, "Please, calm down, my love."

"Calm down?" Ned looked at her incredulously, "Have you not heard what this fucking idiot has been saying for the past hour? Do you expect me to calm down after knowing what our boys did at the Capitol? Is there truly some curse placed upon the Stark blood which makes any Stark who goes beyond the Neck to lose their sanity?"

Lady Catelyn was portraying the very image of Lady of the North, calm and collected, "Yes, I do expect you to calm down. Yes, I have heard what Wade had to say." She gave a baleful glare towards the said man, "As for the curse, it is nonsense. Tales made up by Northerners after years of conflicts and struggles, I believe."

Ned slumped back down on his chair, defeated, he asked, "I had expected that the lads will create some commotion down South. And I had my suspicions proven when Jon Arryn sent me those missives. But this is not what I was expecting."

Catelyn had poured wine in a goblet and placed it before him. He grabbed for it as a drowning man trying to reach for a line and downed the entire content in one gulp.

"Thank you, my love." He gave her a strained smile.

Lady Catelyn squeezed his shoulder before taking back her seat.

Wade couldn't keep his mouth shut anymore and blurted out, "I almost shat in me breeches!"

"Wade!" came Lady Catelyn's sharp reprimand.

"Pardon my tongue, My Lady, but My Lord Stark is truly fearsome…and I have seen and done things in my life thanks to Wolf." He shivered.

Resigned sighs escaped both the lord and the lady. They were very much aware of Wade's nature.

Ned tiredly rubbed his face to only to do something with his hands. He looked up to the faithful Northern warrior sitting before him, whom everyone knew to be not quite right in the head.

"Who else is aware of all these scheming?"

"Beside the Wolf and his brothers, just myself and Ser Eric."

Ned narrowed his eyes, "Aye, that is another thing I want to know very much. Who is this Dornishman? Why did he suddenly become an integral part of a Northern company? And what about the lad you brought along with you? Who is he? He doesn't look a Northerner to me."

"I knew that I have forgotten something." Wade muttered to himself, "The lad is Kurt, My Lord. He is from the Flea Bottom of Kings' Landing. Wolf has rescued him after he came to know that all of his family was killed in an accident at the Bottom. He told me in secret that I was to take care of him, and also that the accident was something caused deliberately by the Spider to bury his dealings with his little birds underneath all those rubbles."

Wade smiled up to Ned, "He is quite a clever lad, My Lord. Wolf has made him his page. I teach him his lessons in letters and numbers and help Wolf with his training in the yard. He shot down the horse of the bandit leader after only a few weeks of archery training." He looked very proud of his acolyte's achievement.

"And for the Captain, I didn't know him before we made our stop at Greywater Watch on our way to Capitol. We met the man there, well, the Wolf Brothers did that first. He was supposed to be an old, close friend of Lord Reed…"

"Howland?" Ned was surprised to hear that his old friend had trusted some unknown Dornishman enough to let him travel along with his boys as well as to call him his old friend, something that was quite dissimilar to the man that Ned knew.

"Aye, My Lord. We didn't know what to expect of the man at the beginning, but he proved to be quite a gifted swordsman. He took over Wolf's training with his dual wielding and started to take care of us lads in the yard. When we left the Neck for Kings' Landing, he decided to travel with us and Wolf and Robb made him our captain."

Ned had his eyes narrowed in suspicion, he started to form an idea about the man's identity. A Dornishman with a penchant of dual wielding, and an old friend of Howland Reed. Someone who had been living within the man's home, quite secretly from what he gathered from Wade's tale. If he was a gambling man, Ned would have wagered about the mysterious man's eye colour, for he knew Howland quite well.

He took a deep breath, "Please, continue Wade." He reached for the hand of his wife to calm his quickened pulse.

"Ah, aye, My Lord. Not much left to tell… Ser Eric had organised our digging of the Pit and helped Wolf during the jousting. After the tourney was over, Wolf instructed us to leave quietly while they went with the King for a hunting trip. We came here with our gifts and Ser Eric went to Dorne bearing some other gifts."

Ned pushed from his chair and started to pace around the room. Cat was quite worried, wondering what her husband was thinking about. He shook his head to her as he felt her worried gaze upon her. Ned's mind was in turmoil. What else had been kept from him? Or was he truly that blind to never recognizing the men behind their masks? Lya, Rhaeger, Robert, Ser Eric, Ser Jaime Lannister, probable Lannister bastards pretending to be Robert's children, Robert's own bastards, Jon Arryn's conspiracies with his sons – how many more of these surprises await him still? He stopped his pacing and loomed over the sitting man before his desk. He leaned over him and placed his hands on his shoulder. He would have found it amusing that a hardened war veteran such as Wade, who was also quite infamous for his acts of insanity among the Stark men, was trembling in fear of a peace-loving man such as Ned Stark. But his mind was far from such thoughts as he growled at the man –

"You give me your honest opinion, Wade. I do not want to hear anything that Jon or Robb may have told you. I want to hear your instincts."

"Oh…aye, of course, My Lord. Umm…I think Captain Eric is an honest man, brave and skilful. He genuinely cares for the Wolf and his brothers. Why, if neither Wolf or I was present to look after Kurt, we leave the lad under Captain's care. He sure is trustworthy…and…umm…"

"Spit it out, Wade…" Ned snapped at him impatiently.

"Aye, My Lord..." He hurriedly complied, "And if the rumours about Wolf are true, then it is sure understandable why the man was so drawn to him. He calls him Uncle Eric, My Lord, and Wolf has entrusted him with a special gift to carry for the Dornish princes."

"Who else came to the same conclusion as you, Wade?"

"None, My Lord, our pack is as close as ever…loyal sons of the North, each of them. They love and care about our leaders, for the Wolf Brothers care dearly for them. When Ser Eric proved himself to be truly trustworthy and genuine about his intentions with Wolf by his deeds, our pack claimed him as one of our own. As for the man himself, Ser Eric is ever vigilant, he doesn't even let his guards down within the barracks. And soon, they will be leaving behind the vipers' nest…if they haven't already. None is any wiser about any of these, My Lord, I can assure you of that."

"If only I could be assured just as easily, Wade, but you don't know the people of this realm, you don't know what they are capable of." Ned had resumed his pacing.

"Pardon me for saying so, My Lord, but you do not know what the Wolf and the Wolf Brothers are capable of. People call me insane, I know, but believe me when I tell you, those four are f…" Wade stopped himself as his eyes fell upon the stern Lady of the North, he shook himself and corrected his speech, "Fluffing insane. Not to mention the beasts they have with them – Grey Wind, Ghost, Gale, Munnin…I only wait for Torrhen to find his companion."

Even agitated, Ned couldn't stop himself from snorting at Wade's choice of words. Catelyn had been sitting quietly and listening in their conversation, she decided to make her presence known other than a mere spectator.

"Will any of you deign to tell me what you are talking about?"

Ned sighed and went back to his seat, "Forgive me, my love, but it is surely one of the most disturbing information to receive."

"Why?"

"If my instincts are correct, Cat, then this Ser Eric Sand is truly the so called fallen son of Starfall who has been living in obscurity deep within the Neck, at Howland's home for all these years."

Catelyn's eyes widened as her mind caught up to the implications her husband had just indicated, "What!?" She shouted.

"Aye, My love."

"My Lord Stark is correct, My Lady."

Catelyn had to lean on the desk to stop herself from falling on the floor. She had her eyes closed and was muttering under her breath. Ned could have sworn that he heard her say things such as idiotic Starks, Wolfblood, and a good thrashing of stupid boys. He poured all them generous portions of wine and downed his own again in one gulp. Catelyn was not far from following her husband a couple of moments later. Both the lord and the lady fought hard to even their breathing before Ned spoke again –

"You have been talking about gifts, Wade. Would you care to show us what they are?"

"Aye, My Lord, right away." Wade jumped to his feet and carried his saddlebags over to the desk and gently placed them on it. "Wolf and Robb have sent these gifts for the both of you and your children, My Lord." He showed them the daggers with the direwolf sigil for Ned and Benjen as well as white silk kerchiefs with grey direwolf embroidered upon them; hand-carved ivory comb for Lady Catelyn along with a few silk ribbons; silken pieces of fabrics and laces for Sansa and a pair of long thin daggers that could be hidden within her clothes; a wolf pendant and a chain to go with it for Arya, with a promised note that her brothers would gift her with a weapon when she grew up some more which had caused Lady Catelyn to frown quite fiercely that promised retribution for the boys; and some wooden toys for Bran and Rickon. There were also quite a few gifts for the Karstarks and Forresters with a requesting missive for Ned to send them along to their recipients.

As the lord and lady were busy reading the messages that came with the gifts, Wade had opened the other bag and brought out a heavy sack from within it as well as a small and heavy locked chest.

"And this here, My Lord, contains almost the entirety of Wolf's winnings from the tourney. Fifteen thousand Dragons for winning the joust and one thousand Dragons for winning the archery. He decided to keep his winning from the melee with them so they can deposit it all along with Lord Arryn's generous contribution to the Iron Bank. They thought it to be prudent to have access to ready fund in foreign lands. Adding five thousand Dragons to Lord Arryn's gift will sure help us when we reach Essos, My Lord."

Ned nodded in assent, Jon Arryn indeed had said the same things in his missive to Winterfell, and it was further elaborated in Jon's message. Ned's eyes glistened with the thought of his foster father caring for his sons that he had taken to call them his grandsons. He was also thankful for his boys, who at such young age, could empathise with the loss of loved ones.

Lady Stark curiously reached for the closed chest, "And what treasure does this little chest contain?"

Her look of intrigue had changed into the one of fear and repulsion in a matter of moment. She scrambled back from the chest as far as could while another shrill scream escaped her lips within the duration of their meeting. Ned immediately became alert and had drawn Ice from its scabbard while standing protectively before his wife.

"What is it, Cat?"

Lady Stark could only point at the chest with a trembling hand. Ned frowned and carefully approached the chest. He spared a glance at Wade only to find the man's bewildered face looking at them both. He reached with his sword and turned the chest to face him, him too almost lost his footing by the content of the chest.

"Why in the name of the Old Gods and New would my sons send home a pair of butchered hands?"

Indeed, there were a pair of human hands could be seen within the chest. They were stuffed in salt to keep them from the rot. Ned threw a questioning glare to the man who brought the disgusting things within his home as he tried to console his wife.

"I knew I was forgetting something." Wade snapped his fingers, "Wolf has given me a secret note for this here gift…now where did I put that note?" He muttered to himself as he tried to find the same within the folds of his clothes, "Aha…here you are, My Lord."

The note read –

Winter has come for the dogs that dared to spill our bloods, they will all burn and bleed in righteous fury one by one.

"Gregor Clegane." It was not a question from Lord Eddard Stark, rather a confirmation of understanding.

"Aye, My Lord, and his head is on its way to Dorne with Ser Eric."

The Lord and Lady of the North looked at each other, none could think of any word to utter. In unison, they turned to look at the lord's desk which now housed the most bizarre of gifts anyone had ever seen.

---

The Water Garden, Dorne

The princes of Dorne had left Sunspear with their retinue. News had been sent to Water Garden for their arrival. It was quite common for Prince Doran Martell to spend most of his time at the lavish palace of Water Garden whose beauty was of the tales of legends. The pleasure palace of the Dornish princes and princesses stood resplendent in its glory even after a century of its completion. The late Prince Maron Martell had erected this palace for his Targaryen wife, Princess Daenerys, daughter of King Aegon IV and younger sister of King Daeron II. The Princess had started the tradition of fostering children to the pink palace so that her own children could have companions of their age to play with at the numerous pools and fountains of the palace. A tradition which still continued even to this day, but whereas it was limited to the children of highborn nobles, now, the palace hosted children from all over Dorne and from all stations.

Although the procession started the journey at the crack of dawn, it had taken an entire day for the party to reach the palace of pink stones because of the slow speed of Prince Doran's palanquin. Prince Oberyn was riding at the front of the party with Ser Eric Sand. Areo Hota, the Norvosi Captain of Guards was riding alongside Prince Doran's palanquin. Prince Oberyn had taken the opportunity of their long travel to make the stoic knight relax with his japes and jests, but Ser Eric was lost in thought. He had been given a lot to think about during his short stay at Sunspear.

On the next day, immediately after Ser Arthur's arrival at Dorne, a man left for the North in the guise of Stark captain, on a ship bound for White Harbour. The man was handpicked by Oberyn and was instructed to remain inside of his cabin and in his guise always. It was done to throw off any of Varys' little birds that mayhaps found their way to roost at Dorne. One Northern captain entered Sunspear, one Northern captain left Sunspear for the North the very next day. The purpose of this visit could be anything, and whatever it was, it was a matter between two of the Great Houses. Tongues could wag and rumination may run rampant, but none was to be privy of this visit except for the lords of these houses. Ser Arthur remained hidden in the plain sight amongst numerous Dornish knights, albeit a little secluded. The false captain was further instructed to dispose of his guise the moment he gets off the ship and board again in normal Dornish garbs. Oberyn hiccupped in his laughter thinking about Varys' birds running about as headless chickens, while they were trying their best to find the missing captain.

Oberyn's boisterous manner, while distracting, kept others from looking too closely at the man beside the Prince, and Arthur was thankful for that. Although he half-heartedly replied to some of Oberyn's queries, his mind was busy going through all of the information that he gathered in his short stay at Sunspear.

Ashara was alive, not only that, she was married to Oberyn Martell and apparently had four daughters with the man. Oberyn had gone beyond the means to keep her hidden and employed a vile warlock to work his magic on Ashara to change her appearance. Oberyn said that was necessary for many reasons. Arthur wondered what other reasons could there be.

From what he heard between the Martell brothers, it appeared that there was dissent between Princess Arianne and Prince Quentyn. According the laws of land at Dorne, Princess Arianne was to become the ruler after Prince Doran. But the Prince had insinuated that he planned for Quentyn to take over after him. Arthur knew that Doran was a very calculating and cunning man whose plans had hidden plans within them. That was why he was thinking if there was any truth within the assumptions of Princess Arianne. Doran knew about Jon, was he planning to betroth her with the true heir to the Throne? Knowing that man, it was not completely out of consideration.

Then there were the political movements within Dorne. Factions formed between those who were loyal to House Nymeros Martell and those who thought that Doran was not suitable ruler of Dorne with his cautious approach. Heading the dissenters was the House Yronwood. Ever since Oberyn fought and defeated Edgar Yronwood and the Yronwood lord died of festered wound, the relation between the two houses deteriorated even further. Doran tried to grab hold of semblance of peace by offering Prince Quentyn's fosterage to the Yronwoods. But that decision proved to be detrimental as the Yronwoods got their hooks into the self-doubting Quentyn Martell. Prince Quentyn became enamoured with Lord Yronwood's daughter, Ysylla, but she was married off. Quentyn was insecure enough to not understand the subtle snub that was shown towards House Martell and the Yronwoods took further advantage of that as they knighted him and making him an integral part of their court.

Princess Arianne, on the other hand, had started to work from the shadows. She went to recruit personnel to her cause by the way of carnal desires. As any Dornish woman, she had her fair share of paramours. From what Arthur could muster, Ser Gerold Dayne of High Hermitage was one of the prominent lovers of Princess Arianne who had taken up her cause. Rumours had it that Ser Gerold, being a distant cousin of the Daynes of Starfall, was envious of the fame that Arthur garnered before his supposed death. Ser Gerold, being a credible swordsman on his own, had vested interest on the ancestral sword of the Daynes – Dawn. Although he had earned a name for himself as the folks called him the Darkstar, for his cruelty and all around unctuous personality, it was the title of the Sword of Morning that he craved. He even approached Lord Ulric Dayne, Arthur and Ashara's elder brother and current lord of Starfall, for the hands of Allyria Dayne, their youngest sister, in marriage. Ulric thwarted Gerold's plan by betrothing Allyria with Lord Beric Dondarrion of Blackhaven as well as sending his son and heir, Edric Dayne to be a squire for the lord.

Arthur sighed tiredly as all these thoughts buzzed around in his head. He had an intense hatred for all the politics. It was one of the reasons why he had taken up the White Cloak, just to be away from all these muck. His brother was angry at him when he first learnt of his desire. Glorified doormen, he had distastefully called the Kingsguard. He had just smiled back at him and rode away from their home, thinking of himself freed from all the burdens of the realms.

"You are getting tired, no?" Said a smirking Oberyn from beside him.

Arthur shook his head in reply.

"I can see it in your face, my friend. You have become old." He further goaded him.

"As far as I can remember, my prince, we are of the same age." Arthur turned to look at the smirking visage of Prince Oberyn.

"And in those days when it was us who used to frolic around the Water Garden, you were an old soul even then." Arthur opened his mouth to protest but Oberyn cut him off, "If you are not too withered to spur your horse on, you would be quite far behind us. We are here, Ser Eric." He winked at him before spurring his own horse onwards.

Arthur looked up in shock to find that they had indeed reached the pink palace, and he, lost in his thoughts as he was, had missed seeing the emergence of the palace in the horizon.

[CotW]

Arthur stood apart from the crowd as the residents of Water Garden came out to greet the Princes. Prince Doran, with the help of Areo, sat down on his wheel chair. Children from all over Dorne, who were fostered at Water Garden, came forward. Doran's face split into a pleased smile. Arthur kept observing as four young girls, aged between ten namedays to three namedays, rushed forward to greet the Prince of Sunspear with a hug each. Following the young lasses, were four young women who, as from their appearances gaits were clear to the hidden knight, were the Sand Snakes, bastard daughters of Prince Oberyn. Behind those four, came a woman who first greeted Oberyn with a smile and bowed her head to Doran. Arthur's breath caught in his heart as he closely watched this woman. People who had seen and known Ashara, could have problem in placing this woman as her. But Arthur could see the Daynes in her features, obscured as they were, but the woman was still there…more prominently in her eyes, which were as purple as Arthur's own, which had been leaking tears since he laid his eyes upon the group of people.

Arthur saw as Oberyn bent a little and whispered something into Ashara…Ellaria's ears. She, in turn, looked back at him in shock, Oberyn nodded at her solemnly. Ellaria started to walk away from the crowd that was greeting the princes of Dorne and was frantically gazing around the courtyard. Oberyn put a hand on her shoulder to stop her and softly spoke something to her. She nodded her head, still looking about the yard. Oberyn motioned for his older daughters who caught what their father was trying to say and herded their younger sisters inside. Doran had been taken to his rooms after finishing his greetings. Oberyn almost forced the lady to go inside with his arm around her shoulders. He looked over his shoulder at Arthur's general direction and nodded his head for him to follow them.

Arthur discreetly shadowed Oberyn and his family. The Red Viper dismissed the guards before he entered the room, shortly followed in by Arthur. He stopped in his steps as he came to face the woman he had long thought dead – Ashara, his sister.

"Sweet sister!"

"You are truly here, brother!" Ashara broke down crying, Arthur rushed to catch her before she crashed onto her knees.

Ashara had mourned for her brother, thinking of him as dead. She had mourned for her husband, for her stillborn daughter, for her childhood friend. But when the news of her brother's demise reached her ears, it broke her. She couldn't believe that the brother with whom she had played with, fought with, left her to shoulder the burden of all the sorrows life had thrusted upon her. And now, here she was, pouring out her pains in the arm of her lost brother.

For Arthur, he was devastated when he heard that his Silver Prince was slain. He was further brought down to his knees when he couldn't keep his words to his prince, and sat there wounded while watching Ned Stark mourning for his Princess, his charge. But nothing hurt him as the news of his sister's death. His sister, his other charge whom their mother had entrusted to him to keep safe in her deathbed. He had thought himself as a failure, bereft his true family, his duties, his sworn oaths. He was living the past years for his King, his only chance to exact vengeance. When Oberyn told him about his sister, in his grief he threatened him. For he thought that the prince was mocking him. All the way from Sunspear, his heart had been beating erratically, thoughts both possible and outlandish had invaded his mind. But here he was, sure about the identity of the woman in his arms, for a brother would never forget a sister's touch.

"Forgive me, sister, I have caused you so much pain." They had managed to stop their tears.

Ashara gently cupped his cheeks within her hands, "Hush now, brother, none of us is to blame. We have both been victims of our circumstances."

The sound of a gentle cough made them aware of the people who had been observing their reunion. They turned to look at Oberyn who had kept a hold of two of his daughters as he gave them a gentle smile.

"Pardon me for the intrusion, but there are impatient individuals who are wondering why their mother is crying." He indicated towards his little daughters.

"Oh!" Ashara, or Ellaria, swiftly wiped off her tears and went to kneel before her daughters. Arthur looked closely at the little ones as they rushed forward to wrap their tiny arms around their mother in a bid to console her.

"I am alright, sweetlings. Mama is not sad or in pain."

"Who is he, mama?" The oldest of her daughters asked her.

Ellaria looked over her shoulder and nodded to Arthur, he stepped forward and lowered himself on his knees, "I am a friend of your father's, My Lady. Your mother thinks of me as her brother. We have been apart for a very long time and she longed to see me. Which was why she shed tears."

"Truly?" Her eyes were wide with amazement, "You are father's friend?"

"Yes, My Lady, my name is Ser Eric Sand. I have been travelling for a long time and just returned to these lands."

Oberyn approached them and stood beside his daughters, "Ser Eric, kindly allow me to introduce you to my dear daughters, this is Elia," he indicated the oldest one with whom Arthur was speaking, "and here are Obella, Dorea and Loreza."

"My Ladies." Arthur bowed to them from his kneeling positions, "As your mother calls me her brother, you could call me Uncle Eric. Forgive me for my impertinence but I had to travel so suddenly that I couldn't find any time to bring you presents. Would you forgive an errant, old man and give him a hug?"

The girls looked at their parents askance, for which they nodded to them with smiles and the girl cautiously stepped forward to give the still kneeling man a hug. The said man swept them up in his embrace, a fresh wave of tears was flowing anew from his eyes.

"Go on, my loves," Oberyn gently led his daughters from the room, "I am sure your Uncle Doran is waiting to hear more from you. We will meet with you again in a short while."

The little girls ran out of the room clamouring about some stories they needed to tell their uncle. Arthur wiped his eyes and got up on his feet. Closing the doors of the room in their wake, Oberyn had gone back to stand beside the four young women who were watching the reunion with hawk like gazes.

"Ser, kindly allow me to introduce you to my other daughters – This is Obara, my eldest."

The girl he indicated had appearance of a warrior. She wore breeches with her silken tunic. Her reddish brown hair, a rat's nest, were tied in a braid. There was a whip coiled and strung on her left hip. Rumours had it that her mother was a whore from the Oldtown, the Prince had her when he was there studying at the Citadel.

"Nymeria."

The next oldest girl was a vision of beauty. She had her black hair plaited, her skin was olive just as her father's. Her pouty, red lips were tilted upwards in a semblance of a mischievous smile. A silken gown draped over her shapely body. Her mother was from Volantene nobles, whom the Prince had met when he was travelling the Eastern lands.

"Tyene."

The girl was a petite, little thing with golden locks and blue eyes. Folks would overlook her for her seemingly innocence, but Arthur could see a dangerous glint in her eyes, the same that could be seen in her father's. It was said that her mother was a Septa who was seduced by the infamous Red Viper.

"And this is my eldest daughter with Ellaria, Sarrela. But she prefers to be called Rhae."

Arthur's breath hitched as his eyes fell upon the last girl. She had the Dornish olive skin and her eyes were purple almost as the Daynes. But those were not what gave the knight a pause. Her entire presence screamed at him about something that tugged into his heartstrings, something very familiar.

"Oberyn…?" He rasped.

"What is it, Arthur?"

"Who is she?"

"I told you, she is my -"

Arthur cut him off, "Tell me the truth, Oberyn. Who is she?"

Oberyn smirked as he placed his hand on Arthur's shoulder, "Just as I told you before, Arthur. There was more than one reason why we had to pretend that Ashara is Ellaria. She didn't escape the Capitol alone, she brought her friend's daughter secretly along with her." He went to stand beside the girl's side. "Ser Arthur Dayne, meet the only daughter of Prince Rhaeger and Princess Elia, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen."

---

She woke from her sleep breathing hard. She looked around the room as if to see she was indeed in her own home. Hurriedly, she got up and changed from her sleeping garbs to her day wears. She quietly made her way out of the keep without alerting the guards. She needed to be discreet for what she hoped was not a mere dream.

The sky outside was showing the first signs of the approaching dawn. She pulled the hood up to conceal her face from the night guards and the few who had woken up to start their daily chores. With measured and quiet steps, she advanced towards the Godswood. Although, none would confront her about going to the Hearts Tree, she didn't want anybody to know about her visit…just yet.

She knelt before the frowning face carved into the white trunk of the Weirwood tree. She raised a hand and brushed the tips of her fingers on the eyes that were leaking sap, giving the face an imagery of shedding blood tear. She let out a deep sigh and closed her eyes.

"Did I really see what I saw? Was it all a dream or are you sending me a message? What am I to do? Please, I beg of you…give me a sign!"

A sudden gust of wind blew through the leaves overhead; the susurration of the leaves was almost like an amused chuckle. She frowned but kept her eyes closed, concentrating more on the fleeting feeling that somebody was trying to reach out to her.

She didn't know how long she sat there with her palm pressed against the tree trunk. Her hair ruffled in another gust of wind, she shivered at the coldness it brought. Then, an unexpected hot wave enveloped her entire being. It almost felt just as when her mother used to hug her before her untimely passing. The leaves moved once again, and with that, whispers that she was hearing, became more prominent.

"Mary Anne of House Reed…"

She opened her eyes in shock and took a quick look around her to see if anybody had found her. But she was alone in the woods.

"Come closer, child…"

Mary stood up and started to walk deeper in the woods as if in a trance. She didn't know where she was going, but her feet carried her and she couldn't stop herself from moving forward. A couple of minutes of walking later, she stopped in front of another Weirwood tree. She had spent her entire childhood in this forest, playing and hunting small games. Never did she saw another tree just a small distance away from the Hearts Tree. She frowned and looked around to gauge her position in the woods, but couldn't be certain. Her eyes fell upon the mound at the foot of the tree. It looked the same as any freshly made mud mound, but she couldn't spot any footstep near the mound or going to and from the mound. Curiosity overtook her as she dropped on her knees and started to dig through the mound with her bare hands.

Mary looked on amazed at the small wooden chest that she dug out of the mound. She couldn't find any latch or keyhole to open the chest. She put it on the ground and tried to pry it open. It shocked her to see that it didn't take her much effort to open the chest. Inside of it, laid two ordinary looking bracers. Again, as if in trance, she took the bracers out and put them on her forearmes.

A sudden chiming sound broke through her trance, she screamed in a scare and landed on her arse. A translucent, bluish-green shadow appeared before her, ruby red texts glinting atop of it –

Welcome, Champion!

[CotW]

"I beg of you, sweetling, reconsider your decision…"

"Father, I told you, I need to leave as soon as possible. I have been given a duty to pursue, a duty that you will not understand."

"Then help me understand. You are my youngest child, you are the last memory of your mother to me. I cannot just let you leave without a proper explanation. You are merely fourteen namedays old for mercy's sake, child, what am I going to say to your lord uncle? Or your brother for that matter?"

Mary sighed and got up from where she was sorting through her meagre possessions, deciding on what she would take along with her for her yet to determined ways. She went over to seat beside her aged father, Lord Daniel Reed, brother of the Lord of Greywater Watch, Lord Charles Reed. The aged lord had worked all of his life in service to the North, diligently performing his duties as a scout and spy for the Starks, as had their ancestors during the Andal invasion. Their house mayhaps the poorest among the Northern realm, but they were loyal to the Winter Kings of old, and they hadn't forgotten the oaths their predecessors had given to the Starks.

Mary laid her hand over her father's wizened, pale hands, "Father, you of all people should know how us Reeds are connected to our lands. The Gods communicate with us, they give us purposes, causes to follow and fulfil our destinies. That is how you did it, that is how our ancestors did it and all the Reeds shall do when their time comes.

For my lord uncle and brother," Mary smiled sadly, thinking about the times in their childhood that her and her brother used to get into all kinds of mischief and how their lord uncle overlooked everything his loving nephews and niece had done. "Tell them, I have gone on to a pilgrimage because I have received a dream from the Old Gods."

She cut off her father's reply, "You will not be telling them lies, Father, do not worry about it. I have indeed received a dream from the Gods, and before you ask, I cannot divulge it to you. For I am not allowed to." She squeezed his hands in assurance.

Lord Daniel looked on in sadness as his only daughter resumed her packing, "Where will you even go?"

Mary turned back to look at him with a frown, she answered as if she was not sure of it herself, "Isle of Faces is my first destination. I truly didn't lie, and neither will you when you tell people that I went for pilgrimage."

"Why there precisely?"

"I do not know, Father. In my dreams, I was asked to retrieve something from the Godswood, and no, I can't tell you what it was since it was the part that I cannot divulge. With the item in my possession, I am to travel to the island for my instructions and training. What they will consist of, I have no idea."

She had finished packing her satchel and slung it over her shoulder.

"Do you have any need of provisions? What am I saying, of course you do. You are still but a wee lass, who has not met with the wider world yet. Oh Mary, oh my sweetheart, why must it be so?" Lord Daniel broke down once again.

Mary rushed over and gathered her father within her arms, "Father, please, I beg of you, do not make this any difficult than it already is. Please, send me off with a smile. I do not know how hard it is for you to let me go, but you have to. I am of Reed blood, Father. We are always entrusted with the duties to keep our lands safe from any outside threats and our liege lord safe. I give you my word, I will perform my duties to the best of my abilities."

"But how? The world is a very cruel and dangerous place for a young woman, lass."

"Do not worry about that, Father." Mary smirked as she wiped off her father's tears from his face, "I shall not be travelling as Mary Anne of House Reed."

Lord Daniel looked at her daughter with confusion before his eyes widened with realisation, "You meant to say the trick you have pulled on Charles that one time…?"

"Aye Father, it is time for the Seven Kingdoms to meet Jon Rackham." She straightened with her satchel slung over her shoulder, ready to leave. A fresh set of tears rolled down Lord Daniel's cheeks, he truly didn't want his only daughter to leave. Mary sighed and once again knelt before her father's chair, taking the hands of her old and disabled father's into her own, "Father, please let me go with your blessings."

Lord Daniel gently freed his hands from her grasp and sat up in his seat with effort, he cupped her face and looked deep into her eyes, "Be it a year from now or a decade, that window will always remain opened, and a lamp will be lit in this room. I may or may not be here to greet you, but know this, Mary Anne of House Reed, you will always be welcomed within this roof." He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

Mary closed her eyes and willed the tears away. She looked at her father with a faint smile and whispered, "Farewell, Father." She stood up and pulled her hood up. She climbed up on the windowsill and looked down, calculating the way she should go down and away. She looked over her shoulder at her father and gave him a nod before leaping into the darkness of the night.

[CotW]

The small villages that dotted around the Neck had seen all manners of travellers making their ways to and from their region, some went to find their niche in the South, some on their way back to their home after a long hiatus. They didn't think it odd to see a no more than thirteen namedays old, quite short and scrawny lad meandering his way about the Neck to venture further in the South. Jon Rackham he said his name was, and he had left his home pursuant to a fortune away from the cold, hard North.

The lad had been somewhat closed off in his behaviours, but he was amicable enough that people thought he was running away from a painful past. He did some little chores for them in exchange of a little meal here, a piece of clothing there. The folks around this lands were not wealthy, but they appreciate hard workers, and men with their sights firm. Jon Rackham had both, so they didn't mind lending him as much or little help they could lend.

Rackham had listened to the advices and stuck to the Hunter's path in the swamplands of the Neck, rather than traipsing through the Kingsroad. The counsel he got was to avoid the Twins, both for his lack of coinage and anonymity that he preferred. Heeding the advices, he traversed through the marshlands of the Neck and by-passed the Twins on his way to Seagard. He had spent a few days in the port town to replenish his stocks of food and essentials before continuing his way towards Wendish Town on the banks of the Blue Fork. He had stuck to his habit of accepting aid in exchange of labour to ease the burdens of his travels.

It took him five months to travel to High Heart since he had left the Neck, because he didn't venture out alone in fear of encountering bandits that frequented this lands. And travelling traders were not always on the road to his whims. He had just said his farewells to such a group of travellers and made his way on top of the hill. Besides the Isle, this spot also held importance to the followers of the Old Gods. Rackham had knelt before one of the thirty-one burnt stumps of Weirwoof tree when he first reached the summit of the hill to offer his prayers. Now, he was trying to get some sleep within his bedroll. He hadn't dare to light a fire which could attract unnecessary attention towards himself.

He had almost dozed off when a sudden change in his vicinity alerted him awake. He got up from his bedding and looked around to find a campfire not too far from where he had settled down for the night. Unsheathing the lone dagger in his possession, he crept slowly towards the light. From the cover of a tree, he could see a small campsite, a short and very old woman was sitting beside the fire and tending it. Rackham frowned at that, what is old woman like her doing here of all places at this time of the night? – he thought to himself.

He was startled and almost stumbled out of his hiding place when he heard the woman spoke aloud –

"You can come out of there and warm yourself beside my fire."

A shiver ran down his spine which had nothing to do with the chill of the night. He figured that since he was discovered, it wouldn't do him any good to remain in the darkness any longer. He tightened his grip on the dagger and cautiously stepped forward.

The old woman peered up to him from her fire, she gave her a beatific smile, "Come child, have a seat. Are you hungry?"

Rackham couldn't help but nod at the question. The woman fumbled with her satchel for a little and brought out two rabbit carcasses and threw them at his feet.

"Here, you can skin them while I try to see if I have any herbs with me."

Bemused, Rackham sat down on the boulder opposite of the woman and started with his work of getting the rabbits skinned and cleaned. He looked up to see that the woman silently prepared two pokers to stick in to the meat and the dried herbs to rub over them. He took the stuff from her and started to roast the meat over the fire.

They started to eat their meal in silence, but Rackham couldn't hold it in any longer, he blurted out, "Pardon me, My Lady, but who are you?"

An eerie cackle escaped her lips, "Oh, I am no lady, child, as you are neither a Jon nor a Rackham."

Alarmed, Rackham jumped to his feet and was about to draw his dagger out when the old women chided him, "Do sit down, child. It is the folly of youth to misunderstand things and jump into the wrong conclusions. You have nothing to fear from a defenceless, frail, old woman."

Rackham remained on his feet, he spoke through clenched teeth, "You will have to excuse me if I seem sceptical, but you are far from frail and defenceless. I ask you again, Who. Are. You?"

The old woman huffed indignantly, "I do not seem frail or defenceless but appear old? Do you not know that it is not polite to talk about a woman's age?" Rackham kept glaring at her without any reply, "Oh, very well, do spoil my enjoyment. Sit down and we will talk properly."

She waited till Rackham took his seat, "That was not too hard, was it? Now, for your answers, I do not remember what my name is. I had one a long time back, but haven't used it in so long that I myself have forgotten that." She poked the fire absentminded, "We were not even supposed to meet, but here we are, defying one possibility for the sake of the other."

"What are you talking about?" Rackham asked, he was thoroughly confused.

"The truth, child, what else?"

"Eh? What truth?"

"The one that sets us all free, the very same that urged you to leave your home behind for the uncertainty of the road. The same truth that will push me to leave my lands for a short while to ensure that the next Champion graces us when his time is right, after you are done."

Rackham's eyes couldn't be more widened even if he tried to, "Wha-what are you talking about?"

"I know who you are, child. I am not talking about your mortal identity, but your divine charge that you have received not very long ago. Aye, you are a Champion, like so many before you, and so many after you will be chosen thusly."

"How could you possibly know about that? I didn't even tell my father…" Rackham cried out.

The woman gave him a saddened smile, "I see everything, child, past, present, possible futures; for that is the curse I bear." She struggled to get up on her feet. She was a small person, with age, her back made her bent and even smaller in appearance. Her long, white hair almost brushed along the ground as she walked, favouring on the knurled staff in her hands. She came to sit beside a stunned Rackham on the boulder and took one of his hands into her own shrivelled hands, "You have a hard path ahead of you, child, they will test you at every step you take. I implore you to learn everything you can in the coming days, for you will need to remain true to your teachings if you want to carry out your duties to its fullest." She tugged the still shocked youth to his feet, "Come, lay down your weary head and rest for the night. Do not fight the inevitable. You will find peace once you are done."

Almost as if a spell cast upon him, Rackham had suddenly become tired to his bones. He didn't put up any objection when the old woman forced him to lay down on the ground beside the fire, his gears had appeared there somehow from where he left them. He rolled on to his side and tried to stifle a yawn, "At least tell me who you are."

He felt the woman rubbing his back as he saw mothers doing the same thing to soothe an irate child to sleep. Through the haze of sleep, her voice invaded his mind –

"As I told you before, I forgot what my old name was. But you can call me by my new name – the Ghost of High Heart."

Rackham sat up in alarm, he had heard about the famed Ghost of High Heart. He looked around him but found that he was alone, and the sky was bright with the morning light. Did I dream about it all? – he asked himself. But there was a remnant of a campfire and along with the bones of their meals. Rackham shivered once again for the absurdity of the situation. He didn't waste any time and prepared to leave the place as soon as he could.

The folks from the fishing villages around the God's Eye weren't very helpful when Rackham went about to find a vessel that can take him across the water to the Isle. Most refused him the moment they heard his propositions, the rest demanded an exorbitant sum of money to deter him. After a long search, he managed to find an old man who agreed to him only after he promised to buy his small boat. Handing over ten Silver Stags – the entirety of his fund, over to the man, he climbed onto the rickety, old thing and paddled towards the Isle.

Thick mist hung about the trees along the coast of the Isle. Rackham moored his small boat to the roots of one such tree that leaned over the water. He carefully made his way inwards the Isle. He didn't know what he was looking for, just that he was supposed to come here for his lessons. He was by no means, an inexperienced individual when it came to finding way in a thick forest, for he grew up in the traitorous marshlands of Greywater Watch, but this here lands made him uncomfortable. Every inch of his being were screaming at him to turn back, but he kept true to his path.

No matter how carefully he was watching his steps, he was not prepared to be flung about in the air and landing painfully on his arse, bounded by vines. He groaned and tried to sit up but stilled when a pair of foot came into his view. He slowly looked up to the owner of those feet to find a tall man, clad in a green hood and green garbs peering down at him curiously.

"Who are you?" the man asked him in a gruff voice.

His side was throbbing in pain from landing hard on it, he greeted his teeth to ignore the pain, "My name is Jon Rackham…"

The man raised a hand to stop him, "Your hood is displaced and your hair has come undone. You may want to answer again, truthfully this time, if you please."

"Oh! Um…I am Mary Anne…of House Reed…"

"Very well, Mary Anne of House Reed, what is the purpose of your visit here?"

Mary fidgetied within her binds, "I was told to come here for my training and lessons."

The man sighed and knelt down beside her. He brought out a knife which made Mary cower away from him, but the man started to cutting off the vines that bound her.

"Tell me, did you, perchance, come into possession of a set of bracers?"

For the second time in two days, Mary was at a loss for words. Two different individuals were privy to her most guarded of secrets.

"How did you…nobody seemed to even notice the bracers…"

The man smirked at her, "Even I do not see the bracers, but I know about them and the blessings you Champions receive once you came into their possession. For we sometimes acted as teachers for the Champions of the Gods."

Mary was scared out of her minds, she couldn't understand how this man can know about something he couldn't even see.

"Who are these 'we'? Who are you?" she asked heatedly.

"Oh, forgive me. I forgot to introduce myself properly to you, Champion. My name is Edward Kenway, I am the last of the Green Men."

[CotW]

It had been five years since Mary had left her home. In the ensuing years, she had come to the Isle of Faces to be trained by the last of the Green Men, Edward Kenway. The man in the green hood had taught her how to fight, how to wield her bow and shoot with accuracy. How to traverse through the most traitorous of lands unhindered. How to conceal herself and become one of the shadows. After two gruelling years of training from dawn to dusk, Edward had deemed her ready enough to venture out in the world to pursue her quests for the Gods.

She had tried to form a friendship with the hardened man, but the gruff behaviours of Edward had dissuaded her of that notion. The most she had pried from his lips were that he was once a normal man, a hunter by profession and had a family – wife with a daughter and a little son. But then the call that he felt since his childhood became stronger for him to ignore, and with his wife's permission, he had set out to find its source. He ended up at the Isle without any knowledge of what awaited him here. Here, he met with the order of Green Men, an ancient order who acted as guardians to this sacred lands. When Edward arrived here, only a handful members of the fabled order remained. The call that he felt within his bones, was the invitation that was imbued with the ground of the very island. The Children of Forest had worked their magic before leaving the Isle behind so that the First Men and their descendants would always be called to tend the land of the sacred treaty and faith. But the old guardians had lamented that the greed of men had weakened the magic of the land, and in turn, drove the Children further from the contact of men and the magic to dissipate from the world. Edward was the last one after everyone else had perished due to old age. He waited in his lonesome in hope that there would be other to hear the call. He first thought Mary to be one who finally had heard the call, but he was disappointed as well as giddy when she turned out to be a Champion.

Mary didn't want to leave the man, whom she had come to see as another father figure, behind on his lonesome once again. But the very next day after Edward had proclaimed her training to be complete, another instruction came for her. Once again the shadowy bluish-green haze, the glinting ruby red words that directed her to her next destination. With a heavy heart, she bade farewell to her mentor and had set out to the larger world.

Her instructions had made her travel almost all of the South. She had created three personas for herself to travel unnoticed and carry out her quests without drawing attention to herself. She had become proficient in her hunt so that none had made the connections between the killings that spread throughout the Seven Kingdoms with the server, maid, cook, guard, washwoman, farmer and so many more with the names of Mary Reed, Anne Bonney and Jon Rackham.

She had never taken a life indiscriminately. She was always asked to investigate individuals or happenings through the haze and after conducting the said investigations, she was to hand out judgement at her own discretion. Mary was horrified by the depravity that laid bare before her. The first time she had to take a life, she could not keep her meals down for the next three days. The glassy, lifeless eyes of her victim haunted her at every waking moment. But the proofs that led her to do such a deed were indisputable. The man she had killed, a Maester at the house of Pipers of Pinkmaiden, had whispered to the ears of the Piper lord who had condemned his wife, a daughter of house Smallwood from Acorn Hall, to the Silent Sisters.

Her crime was that she was adept at healing, which she had learned since her childhood from a hedge witch. That was an affront to the teachings of the Citadel. Hence, the Maester had staged a mummery for Lord Piper to walk in on. He had dosed the Lady Piper to make her unconscious and then raped her in the lord's chamber itself. Lord Piper had found his lady wife bare as the day she was born and passed out on their marriage bed, her used cunt was leaking semen of her supposed lover. The man then had the gall to sombrely advise the lord to not take her life, instead managed to send her off to the Sisters for her crimes. He didn't stop there, he had slow poisoned the lord's little sons to make them weak and sickly as well as whispering to the lord to marry the naïve daughter off to a man who had been a known abuser of women.

Mary had found the Maester's personal journal where he had gleefully recorded about his tryst with the lady of the house to its minutest detail. She didn't even feel any remorse when she drove her hidden blade to that vile man's throat. But after she had calm down and looked at the fear stricken face of the dead man, she bolted from the room and emptied her stomach. She had taken the journal with her when she finally left the castle of Pinkmaiden only to remind herself that if she had to kill someone, then they had truly deserved it.

Her quests and investigations had taken her almost all over the South. Wherever she went, she almost always left corpses of similarly despicable men at her wake. Men who were working from the shadows, moving one piece at a time on the board of cyvasse (a game that Mary had come to know about in her travels) and ensuring their hold onto the power to rule from beyond the veils. At first, she thought this conspiracy was from the Southorns against the worshippers of the Old Gods, but as she delved deep, she found out that their reach was further than that. All of her findings had pointed her towards the Citadel, the centre from where these Maesters had gotten their orders from and several lords who unwittingly became their mask for all to see.

Currently, Mary was sitting at a table at the inn called Quill and Tankard in Oldtown as Jon Rackham, she had come to the city about six months back. Her persona of Anne Bonney had acquired a job as the serving maid at the inn, while Rackham was the distant cousin of a minor house from the North who had been of two minds about whether to become an acolyte or not, and while he was taking his sweet time on the decision, he was not averse to enjoy the life Oldtown had to offer. Rackham had been seen to frequent every tavern and the rat pits of the town.

"I see you have not come to a decision yet."

Rackham was broken out of his thoughts by the speaker who turned out be Connor, another acolyte prospective from the Riverlands who, same as Rackham, was yet to make his decision.

"I see you are still bitching about your own as well." Rackham snarked back at him.

Connor sat down at the table and pushed a tankard of ale towards Rackham, "Truly, what is stopping you? Or is it true that you never had any inclination to join the Citadel, merely said so to your family so that you can enjoy your life here?"

Rackham took a swig of the offered ale, "No, I do crave knowledge, and what better place than the Citadel to sate such cravings? But it is conflicting with my desire to see the world. If I earn my links, I will be entombed to one of the houses of the realms and that will be the absolute end of any chance of travelling."

"On the other hand, you can refuse to join a household and continue your studies here. That will leave your chance to travel open."

"True," Rackham agreed, "but tell me, which of the taverns will cater to a drunk Maester? Or a rat pit that will welcome one with open arms? Do you think the Citadel will let me be once I have sworn my vows? And if they catch me afterwards, they will take away my chain and banish me forever. Where will that leave me then?"

Connor nodded his head absent-minded, his eyes were roaming around the tavern in search of something or someone. Rackham poked him at the back of his head to bring him back to their conversation.

"What about you? Why have you not come to a decision yet? What is stopping you, or rather, should I say who is stopping you?"

Connor looked back at him sheepishly, "I do not know what you are talking about."

"If you are sure." Rackham drawled, "Now, if you will excuse me, I spotted Hother Umber there. I will go see if he wants to come along to the rat pit." He stood up and threw a few Copper Stars on the table, "Enjoy the next drink these will buy you. That will keep you sated till Anne comes in for her shift." He winked and left a spluttering Connor behind.

[CotW]

Anne sauntered at the table Connor was sitting, carrying a tankard of ale on her tray. She gave him a dazzling smile as she put the tankard on the table.

"Will you be needin' anythin' else, Ser?"

Connor looked up at her with a wide smile, "Your sweet company if you are offering, my dear lady."

Anne giggled bashfully, "Oh, I told you before, Ser, I ain't no lady."

"As I have told you before, I am not a knight but a humble man who craves for your attention."

Anne brushed her hand on Connor's arm, "You say the sweetest things, Ser, but you don' want me, you want a lady of your station, an' I am only a maid."

"And I do not care." Connor grasped for her hand and placed a gentle kiss on her palm, "It is you that I prefer, not your birth or where you work." He looked up at her imploringly, "Please, I beg of you, give me a chance."

Anne shifted on her feet uncomfortably, "I am workin' now, Ser."

Connor was adamant, "I will wait for you, please allow me the chance to court you."

Anne looked over her shoulder at the tavern owner, "Master will be angry if I don' get to work soon."

Connor frowned, "Fuck him! I will end his life if he even raises his voice at you."

"Oh." Anne bit her lips in thought, "I-I will go on a walk with you…as soon as I done tendin' here tables."

Connor relaxed back in his seat with a pleased smile, "That is all I ask of you, my lady. Go, do your duties, I will be right here."

[CotW]

Mary was shocked at the turns her life had taken so far. She was a child when she had left her home. Through the years, after all of her training, all the unpleasantness she had experienced in her journey, she never expected to fall in love. She had started out to seduce Connor because he had advanced quite far in his studies as an acolyte. Much farther than the other acolytes who came to the taverns after daylong studies. It was rumoured that Connor was the favourite of more than one Archmaesters for his intelligence and diligence in his lessons.

Mary could have gone after the Maesters who had already forged their links. But the Citadel had always taken care of its security. No Maester ever ventured out without guards, even when they were visiting a whorehouse, with the Citadel's blessing of course. Also, for some reasons, Jon Rackham was not very tolerable for the Maesters. Hence, Connor was the only way for her to lodge a foot inside of the impenetrable fortress. It also helped that the man was smitten by the serving maid, Anne Bonney.

While she had not been a maiden for a long time, seeing as how she had lost her innocence in pursuance of her goal, Connor had somehow wormed his way into her mind. She had lain with him as an act of seduction, but somehow, along the way, Mary had submitted her heart to Connor.

She shook her head to rid all of these thoughts from her head. She focused from her perch from atop a beam in the hall where the acolytes gather for their meals. She had snuck inside while donned the garb of a guard that she had stolen, but left the cumbersome armours at a secluded corner once she was inside and donned back her black outfit which helped her to become one with the shadows. She had climbed atop the beam and waited there for the men below her to finish partaking to their meals and clear out of the hall. As Anne, she had asked extensive questions to Connor after their coitus and had made a rudimentary map of the Citadel. She wanted to get inside the Grand Library and peruse through as many tomes as she could.

This was not the first time that she had snuck inside. The first time she came here, she made a mould of the key to library from the Archmaester who was in charge of it. It had taken Jon Rackham to pay a few discreet visit to the local smithy to get a key made from the mould. What she had found in the Library from the accounts of various Maesters, made her blood boil. The Citadel had worked for a long time to get the world rid of magic. They had abducted little children from North whose blood of the First Men flourished in their abilities of warging or green-seeing. Any indication of such children, and their men had invaded the Northern realm to abduct those poor babes. From Dorne, they had eradicated anyone with Rhoynish blood who claimed to have power over water. They even sent discreet parties beyond the Wall to search and find any signs of the Children. The detailed description of their depravation made Mary almost throw up the content of her stomach.

When the Targaryens came to this continent riding atop their huge magical beasts, they had retreated back into their shadows, for they were no match for the giant, fire-breathing dragons. They bided their time, and studied. They hounded after the physical aspects of those majestic creatures and learned from their observations. Slowly, they had started to poison the dragons, making the adult ones weak and any eggs they hatched, would give birth to deformed beings who hadn't last the month after the hatching.

Mary had taken extensive notes on these records, she was now after the names of the individuals who are still performing such tasks. So far, she had found that very few were of the different mind about magic. These people believed that magic should be studied and protected for the betterment of the known world. But they were very few in number.

A sound of footsteps broke Mary out of her concentration as she was meticulously writing down her notes. She closed the tome she was perusing and shoved it back at the shelf. A few quiet moments later, when she was about to release the breath she was holding unknowingly, the doors to the Library opened with a resounding crash. Armoured and armed guards came marching inside of the Library along with a man who appeared to be an Archmaester.

"Search every corner. The room was unlocked, which means the intruder is still here somewhere. And send someone down to where you have found the abandoned armours, the intruder may go back the way they came inside."

Mary cursed under her breath for her foolishness. She didn't hide the armours properly. Her mind was distracted lately with thoughts about Connor. She looked around from her position for any route she could use for her escape. But there was none save the doors and two guards were standing before it, none could go past them without alerting the rest.

Her Champion's mind helped her to keep calm and not to panic. She took a deep breath and once again looked for any possibility to take. Her eyes landed on the beams near the roof and she smirked. Quietly, she started to climb up the bookshelves. The shelves were as tall to almost touch the roof, thousands of years' knowledge and record were kept in this room, hence, it was no surprise that the shelves would be gigantic to hold the volumes of the tomes. Mary reached up for a beam and heaved herself up on it. She sat astride the beam and looked down to see the Maester standing at a side and directing the guards to various places of the room with torches in their hands. Carefully, she stood up on the beam, and started to walk towards the doors. When she was just above the men who stood guard at the doors, she crouched down and took a deep breath. She flicked her wrists to get the hidden blades out and jumped down from her perch. Her aim was true as she landed right on top of the men and the Valyrian steel blades went through their necks. The guards dropped dead where they stood.

The men inside of the room were alerted by the sound of the bodies adorned in armours collapsed on the floor. They looked disbelievingly at the short, hooded, black clad figure who stood over their fallen brethren with blood dripping from their hands. They were brought back to reality when the Maester yelled shrilly –

"After them!"

The figure turned and ran away from the room, chased by dozens of armed guards. The ran after the individual through the corridors of the Citadel, but it seemed that the figure didn't know the whereabouts of the fortress very well. Thus, even while the person in black was fast on their feet, the guards, cumbered down with the weight of their armours and arms, could keep up with the person.

Mary was breathing very hard, the sudden bout of faint made her stop and lean against the wall. She was confused at her weakness. She had overcome even harder obstacles than this, but never before had she felt this weak. Her moment of distraction proved to be detrimental as a guard caught up with her and swung his sword at her. At the last moment, Mary managed to bend away from the incoming blade, but still, it grazed the side of her body, making her yell out in pain. She brought her hand down to her side to feel the wound. Her hand came out red with the blood that started to flow abundantly. Rage filled her vision as the guard once again lunged at her with his sword. She caught the blade with her hidden blade and pivoted around the man, she thrusted her hand at the back of his neck and the other hidden blade went through the flesh without any deterrent.

She knew that she won't last long at the rate she was losing blood. She looked around for any way that could help her escape. She could hear the footsteps of the other guards coming nearer with every passing moment. She needed to find a way out and sooner. Her eyes fell upon the small windows that were right near at the top of the celling. Since this corridor and the Library were under the ground level, the small windows could lead to the grounds outside. Mary took a deep breath and ran forward towards the wall. She jumped and grabbed hold of one of the scones that held the torches. She swung herself up and let go of the scone. She managed to find purchase with the tip of her fingers in the brickworks and started to climb up the sheer wall. She was about to reach the windows when the pursuing guards had reached her position and found the slain guard on the floor. They looked about in search for her and saw her climbing up the walls. Mary felt fortunate that the guards weren't carrying bows and arrows. Amongst the shouts, she had reached the windows and pulled herself through the small opening. Soon, she was outside of the confining innards of the Citadel and disappeared within the darkness.

[CotW]

Hother Umber was sleeping peacefully in his bed at the tavern room he was renting. His father, Lord Hoarfrost Umber had send his son to the Citadel since he asked to be spared from the duties of the lords for his preference of learning. Lord Hoarfrost was quiet angry at his eldest son's request, since his brother Mors, was a cad who was never seen without a tankard of ale in his hands or for the fact that he had yet to spend a night in his own bed since he had reached his majority and discovered the pleasures of whorehouses. Mors was not someone who would become a responsible lord. That left their youngest brother, Jon, the wee lad was yet to wean of their mother's teats, let alone becoming the heir to Last Hearth. But Hother begged and pleaded at his father to no end, and much to his consternation, Lord Hoarfrost was finally convinced by Lord Rickard to let his son go and pursue his dreams. At the end, Jon was declared the heir with Mors to act as his regent if the unthinkable happened and Lord Hoarfrost died before Jon reached his majority. The Umber Lord had managed to get an oath out of Lord Stark that he would personally see to it that his house stood tall in case of his absence. So, it all resulted with Hother finally able to come to Oldtown to study, and he had been doing that along with pursuing pleasures at the bottom of wine barrels and within fleshes of nubile residents of the whorehouses.

His sleep was disturbed with an incessant knocking sound that came from the closed window. Irritated, he got up from his bed and thundered towards the window to wrench it open.

"Who the fuck are you to knock at my window at this Godsforsaken hour?"

A raspy voice replied from the darkness, "Dóttirr ór Norðriinn er requesting aið ok sanctuary fran sonrr ór Norðririnn." (A daughter of the North is requesting aid and sanctuary from a son of the North.)

Immediately, any remnant of sleep disappeared from Hother's visage and he became alert, "Hverr eru þú ok hví skulu ek gørþúr aið eðsanctuaryr?" (Who are you and why should I offer you aid or sanctuary?)

"Allow mik til kominnir ok ek munu explain." (Allow me to come inside and I will explain.)

Hother needed a moment to decide, "Mjök vel, þú megkomar inni, en beware, ek em armeð ok ek munu eigi hesitate til nýtatt þat skulu þú prove til munu dangerr til minn maðr." (Very well, you can come inside, but beware, I am armed and I will not hesitate to use it should you prove to be a danger to my person.)

Hother stood back from the window and soon enough, a black clad figure stumbled inside the room. He became alarmed when he saw that the person was bleeding profusely from a wound to their side. He hurried forward to keep the person steady and helped them to sit on his bed.

"You have my thanks, Lord Umber."

"You were not japing about wanting my aid." Hother stated warily.

"Aye, I didn't." The person lowered their hood to reveal their face to Hother, making him take a step back in shock.

"Anne from Quill and Tankard. What were you up to, lass?"

"I am afraid that I cannot tell you, Lord Umber, kindly forgive me for that. But I can assure you, whatever I am doing, it is for the benefit for the North as well as the Seven Kingdoms."

"And I am supposed to believe that? By your words only?"

"Of course not, My Lord. Allow me to introduce myself properly. My true name is Mare Anne of House Reed. I am the daughter of Lord Daniel Reed, niece of Lord Charles Reed of the Greywater Watch."

Hother's eyes went wide hearing that, "You are the missing Reed daughter? Rumour has it that you had run away with some unknown lover and perished a long time ago."

"While I did run away from my home, I did it so with my lord father's knowledge and blessing. The reason for doing so, I cannot divulge. Suffice to say that I am acting on behalf of the Gods."

Hother chuckled, "Of that, I have no doubt. You crannogmen, above all, a member of the House Reed can't be anything other than the devout follower of the Old Gods and the true Northerner."

Mary coughed and spat out a glob of blood, "I am happy to hear that from you, My Lord. Now, could you please help me with this thing?" She indicated to the wound at her side.

"Oh, of course, lass." Hother knelt down to look closer at the wound, "It is a deep gash and need to be treated immediately lest it festers. Um…you need to remove your clothes, My Lady…"

"Please, Lord Umber, I have not been a lady for a long time. And I have also given away my modesty with my title along the way."

She whimpered in pain as she tried to remove her garbs. Face alight in embarrassment, Hother gave a hand to the woman to help her divest of clothing from her torso. The giant of a man got up and rummaged through his possessions. He had earned his link on medicine during his stay at the Oldtown after all.

He treated and stitched the wound before wrapping it up in a bandage. He spoke while he was finishing the job –

"This here wound is all taken care of. Do you have any other ailment?"

"Aye, I did feel faint while I was running away from the guards of the Citadel."

Hother looked up at her amusedly, "You were running away from the guards of the Citadel? This is another thing that you can't tell me, I wager?"

"I am afraid so, My Lord."

"Fair enough. Tell me, lass, when was the last time you have eaten?"

"During supper as usual."

"And you do not have any fever or cold?"

"Not to my knowledge, no."

Hother frowned in thought, "Do I have your permission to touch your body?"

Mary smirked at the man she had known to be a regular visitor to all the local whorehouses, "You are my healer at the moment, My Lord. You do have my permission."

Hother blushed but nodded his head, he put his hands on Mary's stomach and pressed at various spots. He looked closely at her eyes and then, after some thoughts, he cupped her breasts and handled them in such a way as if he was weighing them.

"You are with child, lass. There is a little one growing up in your womb."

"What?!" She had gone white at his proclamation.

"Aye, that is what my knowledge in medicine tells me at a glance. There is a chance that mayhaps I am wrong, but I hardly doubt that."

Mary had her face hidden in her hands. She was trembling, not from the chill in the air, but from the impact of Hother Umber's words. The Umber lord could hear her mutterings –

"It cannot be true…I cannot be pregnant…not now…"

"Are you alright, lass?"

"No! I am not fucking alright! I am with child all of a sudden for fuck's sake!" She snarled back at him.

Hother nodded his head, "The father…um…is he around?"

"Aye, he is. And I need to find him. Now." She tried to get up but lost her balance and crashed down on the bed.

Hother put his hand on Mary's shoulder, "Stay here. You have lost a lot of blood tonight. You are not going anywhere."

"But…"

"Stay here, lass. This is your healer's order." Hother replied sternly, he moved over to his small wardrobe and rummaged inside and took out a shirt, "Here, change your clothes for the night. You can have the bed. I will kip under the window."

A while later when the both of them were trying to fall asleep, Mary asked Hother, "Why did you trust me, Lord Umber?"

Hother sighed, "You spoke in the Old Tongue, lass. None but the true Northerners know the language of our ancestors nowadays. And I can see the Reeds in your face. It was not that hard for me to trust you after that."

"You have my thanks for everything, Lord Umber."

"Think nothing of it, lass."

[CotW]

They woke up the next morning to the sound of someone pounding on the door.

Hother yelled from his place under the window, "Who the fuck are you and what do you want?"

"Open the door this instant!" Came the answer.

"Why?"

"Order from the Citadel! Open this door or I will break it down!"

Both the occupants of the room were awake now. Mary had positioned herself beside the doors while Hother got up from his makeshift bed, "Alright, alright. I am coming. Hold your horses." He wrenched open the doors and yelled at the guard who was pounding on the doors. "What the fuck do you want?"

"Move out of the way, I need to inspect the room."

"And why the fuck should I do that?"

The guard pushed at Hother to forcefully come inside the room, "That is enough out of you. Move you fucking savage."

Hother had stumbled a few steps from the sudden push but he righted himself immediately, with a scream, he launched himself at the man. The guard had managed to free his sword from its sheath, but the Umber lord landed atop of him and pried the blade out of his hand. He didn't give any chance to the guard and drove the sword at his chest, drenching Hother's front with warm blood.

He took a step out of the room to look around. Seeing none of the other guards around, he came back inside and hissed at Mary, "Change back quickly and go out the way you came in last night. I will take care of this."

"Lord Umber…"

"Are you still fucking here?"

Mary mutely changed her garbs and wrapped herself in a borrowed cloak from the lord to hide her bloodied clothes. She spared a glance to the man who had shown her a level of trust even beyond her expectations. She gave him a small nod and jumped out of the window."

[CotW]

The owner of Quill and Tankard grumbled to himself about irresponsive helps as he busied himself wiping the tables when a timid voice from behind made him stop.

"Master…"

He spun around to face the whore he hired to serve at the tavern, "Now ye come to work? After alla morning I done everythin' by meself, now ye show yer fuckin' face?"

"I was sick, mastar. An'…an' I come to tell ye that me brother an' me are goin' away. I can't work here no more…"

"What?! Who the fuck do ye think ye are? I oughtta…no…nope, I ain't touchin yer disease-riddled body. Get the fuck outta here before ye get me sick. An' I ain't pain' ye for this month…ye dinnit work it fer the matter."

"Sure, master…um…"

"Ye still here? What more do ye want? Me blood?"

"No, master…umm…was Connor here?"

"That fuckin' cunt o' lover o' yer was got caught by them guards of Citadel. An' if ye don' leave this moment, me gonna call them guards an' have ye thrown in the gaol too."

"I am goin', master…"

They had caught Connor! But how did they come to know of him. – the thought ran through her mind.

[CotW]

Mary once more was prowling inside of the Citadel after the dark. This time, she was not going for the Library, she was trying to find where they were keeping Connor imprisoned. Her blood had run cold when she heard from the tavern owner that the guards came and hauled him away. She had to free her at any cost.

She had gone to find Hother Umber so she could give him the journal containing her findings, just to make sure that it remained hidden from the Maesters of the Citadel. But she had found that the Umber lord was thrown out of the city. He was brought before the Hightowers for killing the guard at the morning. Hother had spun a tale that the guard forced his way in his room and in a drunken fit, attacked him with his sword, so Hother had to defend himself and in the ensuing struggle, slew the guard. The Hightower lord had apparently seen evidence of the guard's drunkenness and didn't take action against Hother. Furthermore, the guard had attacked a noble unprovoked, hence, Hother didn't commit any crime for defending himself. But still, he had taken a life within the limit of the city so the lord was dutybound to take action for that and had banished Hother from the city forever.

So far, Mary's search had proven to be fruitless. She looked almost everywhere but didn't find anywhere that could be used as the gaol. She thought that the Maester could have handed over Connor to the Hightowers, but she had kept a close watch on the fortress for the entirety of the day and hadn't seen any such movement. So, if they indeed had Connor in their clutches, then he was bound to be inside of the Citadel somewhere.

She had managed to make her way to the topmost floor of the Citadel which was used to house the Archmaesters. As she slowly walked along the corridors, keeping to the shadows, she could hear a faint sound of shifting shackles and painful groans of a man coming from a room. She took a chance and pushed open the doors of the said room, as fortune would have it, she had indeed found her man.

"Connor!" She whisper-shouted as she rushed into the room.

Connor looked at him with shocked eyes, "Anne?! What are you doing here?"

"I came to rescue you, of course." She was so happy to find him.

"What are you wearing? And…your speech, why do you sound so different?"

"That is a long story, Connor, which I will tell you later. Now, let me see if I can free you from this shackles." She turned around to block his view with her body and pushed her hidden blade through the locks to make a short work out of them. Soon, she had Connor freed and standing beside her, rubbing his wrists and ankles where the chains were.

"Do you think you can move?"

Connor chuckled, "They have roughened me a bit, but I can move on my own."

"Wonderful, now come on, we need to get out of here. Quietly and quickly."

"Of course, but you are going to tell me why the guards suddenly captured me, and why are you wearing whatever it is you are wearing…and a whole lot of other things, I reckon."

"Sure, first let us get out of here and I will tell you everything."

The two of them quietly came out of the room and crept the way she had come. After going for a bit and taking a turn, Connor stopped her, "That way will take us to the barracks. Did you come from that way? How is it that you were not caught?"

Mary frowned at the way laid ahead of them, "I am not sure I came this way, I could have taken a wrong turn."

Connor put a gentle hand on her shoulder, "Then allow me to show the way." Mary nodded her head in assent and they continued on a different path. After a while, they could hear loud footsteps approaching them, "The guards are coming, quickly, hide in here." Connor hissed into her ears and shoved her through a set of doors nearby.

Mary had her ear pressed on the doors to listen to the footsteps. Once, she was sure that the guards were gone, she spoke, "We can go now, Connor, they are gone." When she didn't hear her reply, she turned around to see, and pressed herself flat against the doors in shock and fear.

The room was full of guards of the Citadel. That was not all, there was also a large table around which sat robed, old men who Mary had thought to be the Archmaesters, and among them all, stood Connor, a cruel smirk prominent on his face.

"Connor? What are you…"

A guard stepped forward and punched her in the face. His studded glove cut into her skin and her lips started to bleed. The guard hauled her up by her hair and shoved her forward towards the table. Another guard came along to stand beside them. The two man twisted her arms behind her back and held them there. Mary could do nothing but glare around at everybody. Connor is a traitor! – the only thought ran through her mind.

One of the Maesters waved his hand negligently, and Connor stepped forward, "I once knew a man. He was a smart and gentle man. He was appointed as the Maester at Pinkmaiden for House Piper."

Mary's eyes widened, that was the first man she had killed.

"To my immense shock when I went there for a visit, only to find that he was slain brutally within his own chambers. There was no trace of the killer. I couldn't have laid it to rest, no, for I had much respect for the man. So, I asked around, trying to find if anything was amiss. Then I heard about a new maid who was hired not too long ago before the murder. She was said to be timid and hard worker, a good help for the household. But, she has quit not so long after the Maester's death. I didn't think about it much at that time. It could have been a shock to know that the Maester was brutally slain and too much to take for a gentle soul."

Connor was pacing in front of her. Suddenly he stopped and peered into her face, "Then, a few months later, another respected Maester was killed, this time, at Ashemark. Again, the killer was not found. Years went by, again and again news came to us about our dear friends and teachers who were forcefully taken from us. Not only the Maesters, no, there were also some nobles who have lost their lives in the similar way, but nowhere, was the killer found.

I discreetly made a few investigations, what information I could gather were generally not that alarming, but when you compare them with others, they do paint a bloody image. There was always one individual who has recently joined the household and then suddenly left after the killing. The name of the person, why it is Anne Bonney. She was not always the maid, of course, sometimes, she was the cook, sometimes the washwoman. But every time, the same pattern appeared. She joined the household, the Maester or the lord was slain, she left the household in seemingly broken hearted. Now, imagine my surprise when I found the very same Anne Bonney has found herself a job at the foot of the Citadel."

Mary was glaring hard at Connor. Once again, she was bleeding at this fucking place. "Who are you?" She growled at him.

The man whom she knew to be Connor, looked at her amusedly, "Oh, Did I not introduce myself? How rude of me. My true name is Haytham Kenway, trusted acolyte and soon to be a Maester." He bowed to her with a flourish.

Mary looked at Connor…Haytham with wide eyes, "You are Edward's son?"

Haytham reeled back at her question, "You know him? How…? Is he the one behind all these?"

Mary didn't answer his questions, instead, she said, "He will be so disappointed in you to know what you have become." She sneered at him.

Haytham's shock had turned into blazing anger as he backhanded Mary, "What I have become? WHAT I HAVE BECOME? Do not speak about things that you know nothing about. I am what I am today through my own hard work. Do you think I care about what he thinks? I care the same as he cared for us…which is ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOTHING!" He screamed at her.

Mary shook her head, "You are wrong. He did care for -"

She was cut off by an enraged Haytham who had started to yell at her, "If he cared, then he should have been there for us! He should have been there when my mother had fallen ill and we didn't have enough money for her medicines! He should have been there when my sister was abducted by bandits and then raped and killed in the woods! No, all he cared for was some fucking myth for which he has dedicated his entire being!"

A Maester loudly cleared his throat and put a stop to Haytham's rantings. He took a few deep, calming breaths and turned towards the table, "Forgive me, Maesters, for losing my composure. She did provoke some long forgotten feelings, but still, I have no excuse. It won't happen again." He gave them a deep bow.

He turned back to Mary and glared at her, "It was not only you who were connected to all these killings. Another name came in our investigation – Mary Reed. Which we imagine to be a false name that you were using at those times. But what we truly want to know is who is this Jon Rackham? Where did he come from? Is he your lover?"

Mary looked back at Haytham with incredulity. The absurdity of his questions had rendered her speechless. It started with a snort, but soon enough, she was cackling like a mad woman. She was laughing so hard that it was difficult for her to stand upright. Only her captors made her stay on her feet.

"What are you laughing about, you savage bitch?" Haytham snarled at her.

"Savage bitch…" Mary tried her best to control her laughter, "Aye, to you cowardly cunts, I mayhaps appear as a savage bitch. But you cannot even fathom who I am, what I truly am."

"Oh? And what are you?" Haytham sneered at her.

Mary gave him a feral smile, with her bloodied teeth, it became even more vicious.

"I am a Champion!"

Mary flexed her wrists to bring out the blades, the Valyrian steel blades struck true and her captors went down screaming, holding the side the blades had pierced through their armours, leaving her free to move. She leaped forward and kneed Haytham into the chest, sending him to the ground. She straddled his chest and looked down on him with saddened eyes, "You know, I truly loved you." But at the next moment, her visage changed from saddened to enraged. She raised her right hand above her head and spoke, "In the name of your father, I sentence you to die." She brought her hand down with a yell and drove the hidden blade through Haytham's heart.

She looked up from the convulsing man to see that the half of the guards in the room had drawn their weapons and were converging upon her, whereas the other half was guarding the retreating Maesters who were scrambling to get out of the room. Mary leapt back and picked up the sword from one of the fallen guards. She bent her knees and readied herself for a fight, a fight she was not sure if she would come out alive of it.

[CotW]

Mary didn't know for how long she fought or ran. She simply went through the motions. Her mind was numb since she had to take the life of the man she truly loved, she killed the father of her unborn child. She had found herself standing at the top of a tower of the Citadel. There was no way out from where she had ended up. She could hear the incoming footsteps of the guards that were pursuing him, bent on getting revenge on her for killing their brethren. She truly didn't know how many lives she had taken that night. Her only regret was that she was not able to kill one or two Archmaester in her killing spree.

Mary greeted her teeth as she pulled the bolt that was stuck to her right calf, making her entire right leg useless. The guards had learned from their mistakes. When they saw that in close combat, they couldn't subdue her, they had sent for ranged attack. Archers and Crossbowmen surrounded her but still, she managed to evade almost all of them.

Mary sighed in tiredness as she looked down at herself. Her clothes were in tatters, there were numerous cuts and gashes littered her body. Her right leg was now useless; it was trembling just from her standing still. The sword in her hand seemed to have gained a sudden weight that made it difficult for her to lift it, let alone wield it to fight.

She knew that she won't be getting out of here alive, after all these years of living alone, pushing herself forward just to finish the task which was entrusted to her by the Gods – everything came crashing down to this moment. She was so very tired. She wanted to stop. She wanted to finally sleep in peace. She wanted to be back in her own room at Greywater Watch., she wanted to see her father once more. She wanted to laugh with her brother. She wanted to prank her lord uncle. She wanted to be there for her babe. But she couldn't. She was very, very tired.

Mary placed a hand on her abdomen, "I am sorry, my love." She whispered, "I am sorry that I couldn't live for you. I am sorry for I couldn't bring you to life. I am so tired, love, I just want to sleep."

Mary dropped the sword from her hand. The commotion was coming nearer and nearer. Soon, the guards will come on to the roof. She turned around and dragged her tired self onto the parapet. She stood on the precipice and looked below at the churning waves of the Honeywine river. It felt so welcoming to her. She smiled and looked up towards the sky. The darkness of the night was slowly dissipating. A new day, a new beginning. Or mayhaps, a different ending for a change.

Mary dove forward, wind whistled past her ears. She looked on curiously as the water below her approached her rapidly. She was plunged into cold darkness. Something inside of her urged him to flex her limbs, but her tired, leaden limbs remained unresponsive to her. Soon, the darkness was all she could feel…and then there was nothing.

[CotW]

Aemon Targaryen, who was also known as Jon Snow, woke from his sleep breathing hard, he looked wildly around himself to see if he was indeed in his own bed, inside of the same tent.

---

A.N. - I am really sorry for not keeping my own word. To my excuse, I had lost another close family member. My maternal uncle has passed away on October 14. It felt like I have lost my father once again.

I hope that this long chapter, which is basically two chapters smashed into a single one, could compensate for my not posting when I said that I would. Although, fair warning, this chapter was not proofread. So there will be innumerable errors in it. Also, I didn't go through my usual editing process, which means that everything I thought while writing this chapter is here. Nothing was trimmed down or put aside to be included in later chapters.

A.N. 2 - There was a lot of flaks for the Ashara/Ellaria plot point. So much so that I have started second-guessing myself about it. While thinking on this, I finally sat down and saw WW84. Really? Granted it was a movie based on a graphic novel and the equipment used in it was a magical device in origin, but Hestia's lasso was able to latch onto clouds and freaking strands of lightning? If that was acceptable to the masses without giving any explanation, then my usage of blood magic to change the features of one woman to appear as another is more than justified on the very ground that I have worked within the realm of possibilities according to the world of ASOIAF on the same type of plot point that was used to describe different plots to move the story along. Thus, your argument on this shall be ignored henceforth.

A.N. 3 - About Oberyn's exuberance on the topic of the Rebellion and Rhaeger's prowess in battle. I had a very interesting discussion with a dear friend about the very same, and with his permission, I am posting part of my reply here to clear the air about the so-called 'Targ-wank'.

*I am really not waxing lyrical on Rhaeger. Oberyn was his comrade at the battles, along with being his brother-in-law. He has placed him high on a pedestal due to his thirst for revenge. Thinking, I would have done *this* if Rhaeger won. He also said that Brandon was similar to Robert and agreed with the betrothal declaration. Did Benjen say the same thing? No, Lyanna was trying her best to control her most temperamental brother. Because Brandon thought the declaration was a slight against his sister's honour.

These are all character flaws that I am trying to subtly portray. Nobody is above them, not Jon Arryn, not Ned Stark, Not Barristan Selmy - the most stable of characters in the whole franchise. Arthur became cynical because he stewed in his lament for sixteen years. He blamed it all on his friend Rhaeger. Now that he became aware that his family is intact, he may change his tune.

So far, the only neutral minded individuals in this fic are the wolfpack, and that was because of their experience beyond the Wall, and yet they too are not completely free from their faults.

Do I really have to be 'on the nose' for every little thing? Come on, man.*

...and for the umpteenth time, this is an AU story, Alternate Universe, where some character may appear OOC, out of character. I am fed up with saying this exact thing over and over in every AN so I have finally updated the damn summary, do give it a look before asking questions on these things again, thank you for your cooperation.

I cannot reply to individual messages in this chapter, it is now about 8:30 in the morning and I have been up all night typing away like a mad man with a goal to finish this chapter and publish it within the next day (or today as its a brand new day now). Know that all of your reviews are very appreciated, even the negative ones. Thank you all for showing continuous support for this story.