Am I my Brother's Keeper, Yes I Am

by Alperez16

A different choice after the Battle of the Bastards brings another Stark back from the dead. Together with his brother how does Rickon Stark's living change the Game and what do another King in the North and his bastard brother mean in regards to the return of House Targaryen. An idea suggested by my good friend and co-writer Leilani972 that I just couldn't resist jumping on board

16. A Dragon's Truth, A Raven's Lies

Winterfell 304 AC.

Lyanna Mormont.

She was one of the last ones to leave the Godswood after Rickon insisted on making an offering to the Old Gods after Lord Glover's sentencing. She could see he was doubting himself after the Lords of the Vale had all but called him a butcher, yet she knew it had to be done. Not only because the severity of Glover's crime toward him had demanded it, but also as a show of strength towards all who had pestered him for days on end about Jon.

"There will be a meeting when Lord Glover's family will come to renew their oaths to my family. There you will have all the answers to your questions, my Lords, my Ladies. I want you to take this time and think about what my family and the North mean to you. What we all accomplished together as one Kingdom and what this means to you. For your reaction to the revelation, I will make will not be forgotten. The Old Gods be my witness, as much as the North remembers, so do I." he had spat before kneeling in front of the Heart Tree, the threat of what he was willing to do should they not fall into the ranks clear to everyone.

Lyanna had to admit that Rickon's attitude ever since his brother had left on the dragon had scared her. He had once again closed himself off to the world, only this time she had known the reason why. No thanks to him.

That Jon Snow had come to speak to her had been a surprise. That he told her his secret before anyone else was an even bigger one, and when the shock of the reveal had passed, she had greatly appreciated the gesture and had understood why it wasn't Rickon's secret to share.

"I pray you will not hold it against my brother, my Lady. I feel he has become a little too protective of me when it was I who was supposed to be the protective one. Moreover, I owed it to you to share it personally with you."

"How so?"

"You and your House have shown unwavering support to House Stark in our time of need, and you've helped Rickon through his own moments of doubts. As for me, I'd not be here were it not for your uncle Jeor and so I do not think I'll be able to repay you the debt I owe you, but I wanted you to know that you have my respect for all you've done for our family, my brother, myself and the North."

"He will bend the knee to you, you know that right?" she asked, not wanting to show how touched she was by his words.

"That is not something I've asked him, my Lady." Jon said and she could see he was sincere.

"But he will nonetheless. You will make him Warden?"

"Dany wants to make the North a principality as Dorne is. If he agrees, Rickon would become a prince. If not, there should always be a Stark to rule the North."

"You're right. And as long as you do not forget that you are also a Stark, whatever your name, then I will have no problem following you either."

"I swear that I will never forget where I come from and that I will never betray my pack. I… Thank you, my Lady. "

"Do not thank me. Thank Rickon. Knowing what I know about him, the last thing I want is to get on his wrong side." she snorted.

"I doubt that would ever be possible, Lady Lyanna." Jon said, his sly smirk getting on her nerves. "My brother likes you too much for that."

"For the Old Gods sake, I swear…" she had growled and Jon Snow lifted his hands in mock defense, reminding her of his younger cousin, no, brother.

She had given Rickon some harsh words afterward but she'd let him know that she was not angry at him, more worried about what was to come. The truth of Jon's identity could blow up like wildfire and she didn't know if the North was ready to accept that they had been lied to for two decades. Lyanna, like Rickon, had hoped they would be able to deliver the news calmly, but the Gods had decided otherwise and Rickon, as his sisters, was not taking it well.

"What's wrong with him? Are we under attack?" he'd asked Jon in hushed tones while the rest of the lords were looking warily at the golden dragon.

"I do not know brother, but I have to go now."

"Jon, you can't -" Sansa intervened, her worry clear in her voice.

"I have to. I'm sorry."

"Rickon, say something! You cannot let him do this!" Sansa insisted.

"I have to, brother. They need me. They might be in danger." Jon pleaded and Lyanna could see the desperation in his eyes.

"What if it has to do with the Night King? With the Army of the Dead?" Arya said.

"More the reason to go, then. Rickon, you said Dany will become Pack soon, I have to help her! I would do the same for each and every one of you!"

"Be careful." was all Rickon responded, his words somber as Jon's relieved nod thanked him before he ran to climb on the dragon's back.

"I told you, Rickon. I told you he would choose her over us." Bran said tiredly whilst everyone was looking at Jon flying away to join the dragons.

"Fuck off, Bran. Now is not the time to mess with my head." Rickon retorted with a bite.

They'd gathered the council and finally told Tormund, Lord Manderly, and Lady Dustin about Jon's true name and him being a Dragonrider, though the last was pretty obvious now to any with eyes to see. She feared Lady Dustin would explode in anger when she heard of the news, only for the lady to be stopped in mid-rant by Rickon.

"I know what happened to your husband, my Lady, and nothing I could say and do would bring him back to you. I understand your need to vent because of my father's deception, because of the unnecessary war that cost us all so much. You may want to curse my father, my grandfather, or even my aunt for what happened, but Jon is as innocent in this as your husband was. He has been lied to as we all were. Sent to the Wall when he deserved much better. If it hadn't been for the dragon seeking him out then he might have never known of his true name and birth."

"Yet there were people who knew and said nothing. Like you." Barbrey replied angrily.

"Jon is my brother and my family will protect him until our dying breath, Lady Barbrey."

"He's a Targaryen."

"He's Brandon Stark's nephew. He could have been yours if the circumstances had allowed it. Had Brandon not been promised to Catelyn Tully and you to your husband." Lord Manderly intervened to Barbrey's shock.

"You have every right to be angry. I just want you to try to think about Jon as a person and not as his parents' son. He has helped the North prepare for the fight to come. He has given us alliances with the South and is about to wed Daenerys Targaryen, making him the first king of Northern blood to rule the South." Rickon declared. "With all the boons he has brought the North so far, don't you think we can cut him some slack for now?"

The lady seemed to hesitate again and she felt the need to say more, only to be beaten once again by Lord Manderly's words

"He is a Dragonrider, Barbrey. A fucking Dragonrider! This could be a blessing for the North if we accept him or the end of us if we shun him." Wyman said.

"Jon Snow would never threaten us with his dragon," Lyanna retorted fiercely.

"But what would Baelon Targaryen do?" Barbrey asked curtly.

"The same as he always does. Protect the North and his family. His brothers and sisters. He is a Targaryen, aye. But he is still my brother and he still has wolf's blood in his veins. His name may have changed but he hasn't, and I dare you to look at me and prove me wrong." Rickon challenged, snarling.

Lady Dustin quickly looked away, sealing Rickon's point and making him sigh loudly.

"This is exactly what he warned me about. We still have a war to prepare for, and if the dragons are headed to the Wall it may be an indication of the time we have left, I would say it will come to us soon. So we don't have time to squabble over whether or not a fucking name matters in order to follow a person to fight that war. It didn't matter when he was a Snow. All of you were willing to follow him regardless. It shouldn't matter now either." Rickon stated.

"The truth will hurt people, your Grace." Davos said softly. "To learn that the Rebellion started over a lie will be painful to hear. It cost everyone greatly."

"None more so than to the Starks and the Targaryens." Rickon said. "But that is not the point. We can't let the past and the old grudges deprive us of our only chance of survival. Don't you agree, Lady Dustin?"

"As much as I want to curse at your Father right now, I believe you're right, Your Grace."

"I curse my Father every night before going to bed, ever since the day he left me at Winterfell, Lady Dustin. Feel free to curse him at your heart's desire, but don't let his memory get the best of you." Rickon concluded, smirking as the Lady of Barrowtown responded in kind.

It didn't surprise Lyanna to hear her friend's confession, but she could see the dismayed looks of Sansa and Arya Stark and she realized that there were still things unsaid between the siblings. Part of her felt proud that he would feel comfortable enough to confide in her, knowing that Jon was the only other person Rickon would have no trouble telling what was on his mind. Yet at times she wondered why they were so close. Were the others right in teasing them about their friendship?

"Lyanna?" Rickon's voice bought her back to the moment.

He was exhausted, she could tell, ever since he helped his brother in warging into the dragon the day before, Rickon had yet to recover from the whole ordeal. He staggered to his feet and Ghost helped him steady himself once he was up. He was covered in blood and the view would probably have disturbed her if it weren't for his worried gaze on her.

"Are you… Did I -"

"You did well." she said, feeling he needed the reassurance. "You made the message clear that treason will not be tolerated. 'Tis a good thing, Your Grace." she said with a nod of her head.

"Thank you. For having my back."

Always. she thought, but would never say it out loud, else he would never stop teasing her.

"Is the Dragon feeling better?" she asked, trying to change the subject.

"Aye. They will be back in a day or two." Rickon said a little more happily.

"The Wall?"

"Fortunately, the Night King didn't succeed in breaching it, but it was a close call. Jon was right, if they hadn't flown to stop Viserion, then we would have been in even deeper trouble."

"Won't the Night King try again? To get into his head I mean." she asked worriedly.

"Mayhap, but now that we know it can happen, we will be on our guard."

She walked with him to his quarters, looking warily at the hostile gaze of the Southerners that they crossed paths with. Lyanna knew she couldn't trust the Valemen, but the Dornish and those in service of Queen Daenerys were still a mystery to her. They seemed to respect Rickon and she hoped the display of that day would put enough fear in their heart to stay their hands should they feel the need to do something against her King. Some of the Dothraki even bowed their heads in deference to the lad, which filled her with pride both on his and her behalf.

Her hope for some peace, however, was soon crushed by the news of the upcoming arrival of the southern reinforcements, led by Edmure Tully and Daven Lannister. Rickon, too exhausted to play the part of a host, had tasked Arya to welcome their uncle to Winterfell, and Lyanna of watching over his sister in case her manners were lacking. She cringed when she arrived in the courtyard to find the traitor was there acting as an emissary for his queen.

He was the last of her kin, the last member of House Mormont beside her and she wished he wasn't there. She wouldn't hesitate to trade him for her mother or one of her sisters, even her uncle, anyone who hadn't tarnished their name with their behavior, yet she couldn't forget that they were the last of their lineage. She could feel the same longing from him, the thoughts of belonging again in a family, as she had felt when he'd protected her while she had faced Lord Glover. Missandei had been quick to tell her that he had atoned for his sins by freeing the slaves in Mereen along with Daenerys, but she couldn't find the strength in herself to forgive him in the name of her family. Rickon had suggested a spar between her and Jorah, so she could lash out and deck him if she could manage it before settling things, and she was seriously considering it.

"Uncle. Lord Devan. Be welcome in Winterfell as well as your men." Arya said curtly, showing no warmth toward the man in question, while Lyanna served them bread and salt, not without sending a glare to the Lion Lord.

"On behalf of Queen Daenerys, I welcome you and thank you both for fulfilling your oath." Missandei added, only to be snubbed by Edmure.

"I haven't been able to thank you properly, Niece." the Lord of Riverrun said, seemingly choking on his words. "You know, after…"

"Do not mention it, Uncle. I am glad to see you in good health."

"Where are your brothers and sister?" Edmure asked looking behind them.

"My brother King Rickon is resting. He formally invites you both to dine with him tonight. You will see Bran and Sansa later on. As for Jon…" Arya stopped as soon as she saw the scrunching on her uncle's nose. "Is something the matter, Uncle? Is the salt too salty for your southern taste buds?"

"No, Arya. All is well. I just didn't expect you to talk freely about your…Bas…half-brother." Edmure said almost spitting out the last part.

"Seeing he is the one we have to thank for both Sansa and Rickon still being alive, I do not see why I would not talk to you about my brother. Lady Mormont will show your men where they can settle now that you're under House Stark protection." Arya said somehow holding in what Lyanna was sure were far harsher words.

"Not that it means a lot nowadays." Lord Daven spat.

"Nothing does, Lord Lannister. Not after the atrocities committed by your kin." Arya retorted.

"What about the ones committed in your father's name?" Daven retorted.

"You do not get to claim to have the higher sense of morality here, Lannister." Lyanna intervened. "But it doesn't matter anyway. Whether we like it or not, we will be fighting together against something that wants all of us dead."

"Yes, Grumpkins and Snarks." Daven snorted.

"Why are you here if you do not believe in it?" Lyanna asked annoyedly.

"Queen Daenerys bid it of us."

"That's right, so be a good boy and run along to do your queen's bidding, will you?" she mocked him.

"Why you little -"

"That's enough, Lord Daven." Lyanna's cousin said warningly, shielding her from the Lord's view. "This is the North here, and your name isn't well appreciated. If you cannot control yourself then I suggest you say nothing until the Queen's return."

Daven closed his fist and nodded, glaring at the smug face she now wore. The attitude of the men of the South needed a readjustment and she hoped that Baelon Targaryen would be the man to knock them off the pedestal they had created for themselves. In the meantime, she would make sure to place them as far away from her king's sight as she could.

Winterfell 304 AC.

Baelon Targaryen.

The flight back to Winterfell should have been one that he worried about and yet it was very much not. Hearing Viserion as he flew beside them, watching him as he almost showed off in front of them, seeing the smile on Dany's face, all of it made him forget what it was he was flying back to. It was only when they flew over lands that he recognized and had once ridden over as a boy that his thoughts turned to what it was he was to face. There would be angered words and there was a time when he'd have allowed them to be spoken, sat quietly while they were, and only made his feelings clear once they had been. No more would that be the case. He'd take them when aimed at him, but people had best speak of his father and mother respectfully or they'd find his inner dragon unleashed.

It was Dany who noticed the extra tents and the forces who'd joined with their own. Men of the Riverlands and the West and he found he welcomed them being here for what needed to be said. Best it was said in front of as many as possible and once the words were spoken then, ravens would be sent and the realm itself would be told, and so it was that rather than having those men here already before the war had truly begun that he concentrated on. As they landed, he took note of the numbers and it brought a smile to his face when he did so. They'd come in strength as they'd been bid and though it was not their full strength, they weren't playing them false or just performing a mummery.

"Are you ready for this, Baelon?" Dany asked after they'd dismounted and upon seeing the horses come their way.

"Aye, as ready as I need to be." he said welcoming the kiss she gave him and trying not to think of those soon to come.

It was Jorah and Tormund who along with some others came to them, Baelon laughing as Tormund smacked his back and told him that he knew that they'd bring back the queen's mighty beast.

"I told them all Jon Snow, they worried but I did not, for not even might beasts are a match for my little crow, Har."

"I only played a part, Tormund, in truth it was the queen's beauty that soothed the mighty beast." he said winking over his shoulder at Dany.

"Of course it was, it certainly was an ugly fucker like you." Tormund said moving to Dany who was soon laughing loudly at whatever he was saying to her.

"All went well, your grace." Ser Jorah asked and Baelon nodded.

"The North?" he asked softly.

"Have concerns, King Rickon was just about to address them, he'll be relieved to see your return."

"As will I to see my brother again." he said and they moved to the horses and mounted up, the ride to the keep taking them no time at all.

He didn't need to look behind him to see the dragons were back in the sky nor to see them head off to the caves they'd taken for their lairs. Rhaegal he knew had wished to stay because he felt his own concerns, but he'd told the Green Dragon to go eat and rest. Should he have need of him then he'd call and as they entered in through the gates to see his brother and sisters, it was his other bonded that was soon by his side.

"Aye, I missed you too, Ghost. Thank you for all you did." he said rubbing the white wolf behind his ears.

They moved to Rickon who looked at him with a small amount of worry on his features, one that he soon removed. As they then walked into the keep he saw the eyes of the Lords of the North, Vale, Riverlands, West, and Dorne all looking his way, and then Wylla and Melisandre walking towards him.

"All went well, my prince?" Melisandre asked worriedly.

"As well as can be expected, Lady Melisandre, we'll talk later you and I, for now I believe it's time a truth was told." he said looking to Wylla.

"Long after it should have been, your grace." Wylla said and Baelon moved to her and kissed her cheek as he then whispered in her ear.

"I'm glad you're here for this, truly." he whispered.

"As am I your grace."

They all walked together to the Great Hall which was fuller than he'd ever seen it before. He reached out to take Dany's hand in his and with a nod to Rickon and to his sisters, they entered it together. Rarely had he seen such a hush come over a place as did right then and it unnerved him a little. As did, looking out and seeing that every single eye in the Great Hall was on him and him alone. So it was to faces he knew that he looked and to encouraging whispers from Dany that he took his seat.

Lord Reed sat with his daughter and Lyanna Mormont. While at the High Table the seats for once were empty and when he looked to Rickon he saw his brother motion to where the Council of the North now sat. Lord Wyman, Barbrey Dustin, Lady Flynt, and others were all staring at him with far different eyes than they had before he left. There was suspicion and doubt there where there had been none before and he knew that would only grow when he spoke. He looked to the Dornish to see Princess Sarella and her sister watching him with eyes so reminiscent of snakes that they could only be their father's children. The Red Viper of Dorne was a man that he was both happy was not here and saddened he'd not had the chance to meet before he had died all in the same breath.

Ned Dayne looked at him with eager eyes and he cursed himself for not speaking to the young lord sooner. He promised that he would once this meeting was done. though he'd mayhap need many more hours in the day to speak to all who'd wish to once his truth was known. Looking to the men of the West, he saw a man who looked as much a lion as the sigil he wore. The blond bearded man almost wore a mane such was the length of his hair and while he'd not be certain he was right, he'd name him as Ser Daven Lannister the new Warden of the West. That he'd come North himself was a boon and not at the same time. His brother had killed the man's father in the battle of Oxcross and while Robb may not have swung the blade himself, that dubious honor falling to Rickard Karstark, he may blame his kin regardless.

The Knights of the Vale glared at him for some reason, Lord Royce probably still blaming him for Littlefinger's death and for the lack of so-called justice they'd received for it. That they actually sought it for a man such as the Mockingbird was beyond him, but then some of those in the South confused him greatly. He found friends and allies among the Free Folk as always, Tormund wiggling his eyebrows and bringing a smile to his face. There were fewer among the Lords of the Riverlands and one, in particular, looked at him with disdain. Baelon didn't need an introduction to know that this was Lady Catelyn's brother and so he ignored the looks and waited for Rickon to begin.

"My lords and ladies, I called you all here today to speak on things that have raised your concerns. Key amongst them is my brother's ability to ride atop a dragon. I had intended to speak a truth that was not mine to speak, a truth kept hidden for far too long. Thankfully the man who that truth affects more than any is now here to do so for himself. I give you my brother, my lords, and remind you that you are all guests of House Stark and are here at her grace's behest I would bid you remember that before you let your tongues free." Rickon said and sat down allowing Baelon to stand up and look out at the sea of faces, none watching him more keenly than Jaime Lannister

"Firstly, I'd welcome those from the West and Riverlands to Winterfell on her grace's behalf and bid them patience in regards to what words are now to be spoken. Those who were here when her grace and I left have two questions that need answering, so I'll answer the first before moving to the second since that'll take more time. The Golden Dragon is well, my lords and ladies, what ailed him does so no more and you've naught to fear from him."

"And what of the Green Dragon, Lord Snow, Are we to fear him or his rider?" Lord Wyman asked.

"No more than you did a week ago, Lord Manderly. Or am I more fearful now that I can call upon a dragon?"

"You're not fearful at all, I saw your pecker Jon Snow, smaller than a babe's it were." Tormund shouted out to loud laughs, Baelon's own included.

"In my defense, it was a cold day and I'd just been brought back from the dead." he said to even more laughs.

"Not to mention that Tormund is a lying cunt, King Crow, for I was there that day and it was a mighty member that I saw." one of the Spearwives shouted out to louder laughs.

"I thank you for the vote of confidence, I'm sure my betrothed will be most pleased to hear it." he said winking at Dany who shook her head and pretended to blush.

He waited until the laughs had died down, then reached down and took up what he was glad to find was a mug of ale which he drank down quickly.

"When I went to treat with her grace, I found myself drawn to one of her dragons and he to me. I thought little of it at the time, I'm no stranger to a mythical beast wishing to be my friend." he said rubbing Ghost's fur when the white wolf raised his head above the table "During my stay on Dragonstone, Rhaegal showed more and more interest in me and during the events of the parley at King's Landing when Cersei Lannister broke the peace and tried to kill her grace, me and those with us, this only became even more clear."

"How Jon?" Davos asked and he welcomed him not naming him as lord if not the name he used.

"I fought against a man that somehow was the Mountain that Rides." he said and held up his hand when the men of the West went to deny him "His head is in the Red Keep my lords and was it nor for Rhaegal then he'd have added me to his far too long list. Then later as I stood on the cliffs of Dragonstone, a man tried to bring about my end and would have succeeded were it not for my protector once again. I was pushed and fell from a great height my lords, any who know the island I speak of can attest to the distance from the cliffs to the sea below. It was Rhaegal who fished me out of the sea and to who I owe my life to once again." he said and gave that time to sink in.

Looking out he could see people speaking to each other, words he couldn't hear but expressions and shaking of heads that he could.

"A dragon showing an interest is one thing, my lords and ladies. One going out of their way to save someone who's not their rider or who they've not been directed to, that's quite another and so I believed, rightly as it turns out, that Rhaegal was my mount and later I found out it was true. It was Rhaegal that allowed me to reach Winterfell so quickly after King's Landing had fallen, who allowed me to be there when my sister killed the man who tried to rape her and stopped his lackeys from seeking to do her harm." he said looking to Sansa who smiled back at him "Yet to find yourself bonded to a dragon is no simple thing and so I too had the same questions that each of you've asked yourselves since I flew to the Wall. It's time now for those answers to be told."

He looked out and saw Tormund look at him with eager eyes, as did Jaime Lannister. Melisandre offered him a warm smile and he saw her whisper to Thoros once she did so. Howland Reed gave him a nod and Baelon offered up his own smile to Wylla who almost seemed eager to hear how he'd speak his truth. Turning he looked to Rickon, Arya, and Sansa, all of them nodding, and to Bran who sat in the corner and who he'd not noticed up to then, who very much did not. Then with a touch of his hand to Dany's, he spoke once more.

"My name is not Jon Snow, nor was Ned Stark my father. I am Baelon Targaryen, trueborn son of Prince Rhaegar and Lyanna Targaryen, and the lies that were once spoken to protect or hinder me, to save me or curse me, end here today."

It wasn't the sound of the lords arguing that he heard, though he readied for the raised voices, nor was it the shuffling of feet or the moving of chairs. Instead, it was the loud roar of a dragon as it flew over the keep, Rhaegal speaking his truth just as clearly as he did and as messages go, it was a powerful one. There were words soon to come and he waited for them, he waited for them eagerly, for he was done hiding who he was and he'd never apologize for it, dragons had no need to.

After Rhaegal had made his own feelings clear, Baelon waited for others to do likewise. Looking out on the sea of faces, he'd have expected it to be Royce or one of the Dornish to speak first or for some voices to name his father a rapist and kidnapper and him the spawn of such and yet he'd be wrong. Be it because of fear of him, Ghost, or Rhaegal, those voices were quiet for now and it was a Northern one that was to be the first heard. Barbrey Dustin rose to her feet and Baelon wondered what she was to say. He knew she and Lord Wyman and some others had been told the truth of him, Lyanna Mormont he'd spoken to himself, feeling that a house that he owed so much to had a right to know before others.

"We were told the Lady Lyanna was kidnapped, Lord Snow, that she was raped and died in a tower in Dorne and now you say you're her son and that she and your father were wed. What are we to make of such?" Barbrey began.

"You name me a liar, my lady?" he asked to a shake of her head.

"Not you, no."

"There is proof of my birth, some papers and journal entries of my mother that name it true. As for what happened at that tower, Lord Reed was there and I'm sure he'll name me a liar if I speak untrue, though he was not the only one present." he said looking to Wylla "I was nursed by a woman in this very hall, a woman that some here may have believed to have been my mother, and though she was not, she was mayhap as close as I ever got to having one who lived."

"The words the prince speaks are true. Prince Rhaegar loved his princess and their son is a result of that love." Wylla said after she'd risen to her feet.

"Rhaegar Targaryen was a fool who caused a war that cost us all blood." Lord Royce said loudly and Baelon looked on as Wylla glared at him "And if it's true that the Lady Lyanna wasn't raped, then she was a…" he never got to finish his words, the slap sounding out loud around the room and Wylla's words were even louder.

"Speak not of people who were unknown to you and dare not speak such a way of my prince and princess in my presence lest you feel more of my hand." Wylla said and as Lord Royce seemed to raise his hand, Baelon moved.

He jumped over the table and sprinted across the floor, Ghost for once being left in his wake. Longclaw was out before he even knew it and he held it inches from where Royce had stopped his hand and the blow he had aimed to give Wylla in return for her own.

"Think carefully before you make another move, Lord Royce, and who you're making that move against." Baelon said and he heard the crash behind him as one of the other Knights of the Vale had tried to move to him only to find Ghost more than ready for him.

"To bear steal is to break guest right, you'd curse yourself for such a woman?" Royce said angrily.

"I've seen what waits for me when I die, Lord Royce, curses matter not and that woman you dare threaten, aye for her I'd risk damning my soul without thought or reservation. So take your seat and mind your tongue."

He sheathed his sword and helped Wylla back to her seat, and with a nod to Ghost, the white wolf took up a place in front of her and Baelon placed a soft kiss on her cheek before moving back to his own. He'd no sooner gotten there than Barbrey Dustin spoke again.

"Lord Royce may have spoken out of turn, but his words were not as ill-informed as you may think them. Your mother and father's actions led to the deaths of many men of the North and other lands, Valemen, Riverlords, Dornish, and Reachmen lost their lives because of what they set in motion. And because of your grandfather the Mad King."

When Dany went to rise, he bid her not to and turned to look at the woman who spoke. The anger she felt was one that she was deserved to, he believed, given she'd lost much in that war and because of him and his parents most of all.

"I'll not stand here and say that Aerys was not a mad king and that I don't have his blood in my veins, Lady Dustin. I'll not defend his actions, but I'll remind you that his actions cost me a grandfather and uncle and that while my mother and father were the sparks mayhap, they were an excuse and not the cause. The North didn't rise for my mother's honor, though there are some of you who may name it as such. The North rose because of Aerys' actions and those actions would have happened in some form at some time regardless of what my mother and father did." he said to some nods, some shakes of heads, and thankfully quiet instead of loud angered words.

"Yet we're to follow you in the battles to come. To follow a man that was raised a bastard and has been proved to be a lie, then afterward we're to name you our king and kneel to you and you see no wrong in this?" Edmure Tully said and Baelon was surprised when Sansa rose to her feet.

"Are you not at fault for things, uncle? Have you not done wrong? Yet you ask men to follow you despite this and say there is a reason we should not follow Jon. My brother and make no mistake my lords and ladies, that he is my brother, is a far better man than any of those in this room. Jon lost his grandfather and uncle at the hands of his other grandfather. He has lost two brothers and a sister, his grandmother and his father and mother. Time and time again he has shown us that people shouldn't blame someone for the sins of their family, so I think we should extend the same courtesy to him. Or perhaps I should look to you more closely uncle and blame you for some of your sins." Sansa said to some loud banging of mugs and Baelon looked at her and nodded his thanks.

There was silence for a moment and then once again it was Barbrey who began to speak, Baelon stopping her before she could.

"I lost…"

"I know what you lost, my lady. I know all about the five good men of the North who lost their lives at the Tower of Joy. I know all about the three good and true knights of the Kingsguard who gave their lives so I could be safe." he said looking to Ned Dayne who stared at him intently as he spoke "You think I believe myself worthy of any of their losses? Or that I've not spent each day since finding out the truth mourning them and thinking of the world we'd be in had they known the truth of things and changed their actions appropriately."

"My husband…."

"William Dustin was a great man, my lady, and one I wish were here this day. For we find ourselves in need of great men to face what comes for us. Men like Ethan Glover, who may have been able to hold his brother's idiocy in check. Men like Martin Cassel, who had he been alive may have seen his House suffer a better fate than it did" he said with a sad look to Beth Cassel who wiped her eyes "Men like Ser Mark Ryswell, who was as true a Knight, as the North has ever known and men like Theo Wull, who was as fierce as any man of the Mountains can ever dream of being. I wish them here, my lady and it pains me that they're not." he said softly as Barbrey looked at him and then took her seat.

He waited a moment before he spoke once more.

"Had things turned out differently that day then who knows the world we would have known, all of us and me in particular. I'd have known Ser Gerold Hightower the White Bull, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and though he found himself on opposite sides to the men of the North, Riverlands, and Vale, I dare you to name him anything but good and true. I'd have known Ser Oswell Whent, the Black Bat of Harrenhal, a man who was kin to my brothers and sisters and who was much missed by his house and I'd have known Ser Arthur Dayne, The Sword of the Morning." he said and didn't notice the tear that fell from his eyes.

Ned Dayne moved in his chair and around him men and women of Dorne looked on as Baelon took a breath.

"The Sword of the Morning, the greatest and most true of all knights and a man my father named his brother by choice. Is there a man or woman here who did not dream of Ser Arthur Dayne in some fashion? Of being like him, of meeting him, of seeing him wield Dawn? His nephew sits in this very hall, ask him if he'd not wish him here and yet it's not for Lord Dayne that I'd wish him alive. Not even is it for the tales he could tell me about my mother and especially my father, nor is it for the thoughts of what my life may have been had he but lived. It's because was he here then the Night King himself would shit his britches at the thoughts of having to face his famed blade." he said to loud laughs "I mourn him, my lords and ladies, I mourn him and his brothers of the Kingsguard and I mourn the five others who fell at a Tower that cost me more than any."

The room quietened and then somehow even more so when Princess Sarella Martell rose to her feet. She was dark of skin and looked younger than she probably was, her clothing would be something that Arya would not look out of place in and was not the typical lady or princess' attire.

"And what of Elia Martell, What of Rhaenys Targaryen, what of Aegon Targaryen, do you mourn them, Jon Snow or Baelon Targaryen or whatever name you wish us to name you."

"I mourn my mother and father, princess, for I knew them not. I mourn my grandmother both for mine own reasons and for my betrothed too." he said looking to Dany who smiled sadly back at him "I mourn my brother Robb Stark because I was not there to fight and save or die beside him. I mourn friends I lost, and a family who I never got to say goodbye to or answers from" he said looking to Rickon, Arya, and Sansa.

"And what of my aunt and cousins, were they not your family too?" Sarella asked.

"Aye that they are. But it's more than mourning that fills my heart when I think of them, my princess. More than regret or anger over their loss and more than simple cursing of those who took them from the world that fills my heart. I don't just wish they were here, Princess Sarella, nor would I not gladly swap places with any of them or take a knife and put it through mine own heart if I believed it would bring them back. I'm angered at the very gods themselves who for their own reasons decided that it's me who needs to be here on this day and not my brother or my sister. I hate them for denying me the chance to know Rhaenys' smile or to cross blades with Aegon. For stealing from me the chance to watch my sister wed and my brother be named king.

Each day I've woken since I found out my truth, I've found my anger rising that it's fallen to me and not to them to fight this fight and yet each day the same thought always comes back to mind. It is to me to fight the fight, to me, to Queen Daenerys, to King Rickon and my sisters, to Lady Lyanna Mormont and Lord Wyman Manderly, to Lord Ned Dayne The Sword of the Morning and Lord Daven Lannister. It's to Lord Edmure Tully and Lord Yohn Royce, to Lady Dustin and Lady Flint, to Tormund Giantsbane and Munda, Qhono and Karharo, to Grey Worm and the Unsullied. I mourn the losses Princess Sarella, more than any words I can speak or declarations I can make, I mourn the losses. The only way to honor them that I know is to do all I can to ensure there are fewer losses to come.

Once we win and beat the army that marches against us, then should I fall and find myself face to face with those I've lost, then and only then will I stop cursing the gods from what they've taken from me." Baelon said before he took his seat again to different looks then were there when he'd risen to speak.

Winterfell 304 AC.

Edric "Ned" Dayne.

Ever since he'd heard Baelon's truth come out and the reaction to it, Ned felt a huge weight on his shoulders. He had heard the story of the Tower of Joy, of his uncle Arthur slaying men of the North and being slain by the Crannogman who had come to ask for forgiveness for what he'd done. The man had come to him at Wylla's demand and had relayed everything that had happened that day. Howland Reed, flanked by his fierce daughter, had told him how formidable Arthur had been, slaying the men he now understood he had thought was a danger to their king. It had made no sense at first for Ned that so much blood had been shed for Lyanna Stark, and Wylla always told him there was more to it that people knew about, so Ned, as a dutiful son, had trusted his adoptive mother.

"So many things could have been prevented had we just simply talked about it." Howland had said. "Had the Kingsguard sworn to Ned Stark that his sister had been unharmed, sworn that we could see her should we just put our weapons away. Had they given us bread and salt and guest rights in the tower, we would have left without bloodshed. Had I known then what I know now, I would have never lifted a hand against your Uncle. I have borne this regret with me ever since and I am so sorry that I didn't get to tell you of this before now Lord Dayne."

He remembered the words that Wylla had said to him when he'd asked her what had happened that day.

"A lot of things went wrong that day. A lot of things indeed." Wylla added. "Your Uncle Arthur didn't trust Eddard Stark to be there for Lyanna's sake. For he'd let Rhaegar die to Arthur's mind and served a kinslaying king. And Eddard Stark himself believed your Uncle held his sister hostage because Rhaegar bid him to."

"But they were in love were they? Uncle Arthur would never have supported Prince Rhaegar abducting a woman?" Ned said affronted.

"That I can say it with absolute certainty, Ned. Arthur Dayne was one of the best men if not the best knight there ever was. He couldn't disobey his king and so he would do his best to find ways not to be present when he committed atrocious crimes, for he would have been forced to act against him. The duty he had to Aerys and to the Realm was tearing him apart, but he never left Rhaegar's side until Rhaegar asked it of him. And only because he had to protect Lyanna."

"From what? Wouldn't he be better suited to protect his brother by choice?" he asked curiously.

"One day you'll be told something that will have everything make sense to you. For now, you just have to trust me on this. Your Uncle was an example of what a true knight was, and I am so proud of you for choosing to follow in his steps." Wylla said kissing his forehead.

Now that he knew, he finally understood his milk mother's words, as well as the Crannogman's. Arthur was defending Jon, Baelon's life, from those he didn't believe to have his dead friend's son's best interests in mind. Rhaegar was dead and Arthur must have been heartbroken by this, as well as Elia's and her children's fate. He didn't trust Ned Stark. for his brother by choice had killed his own, and while he'd understood the need to rise against Aerys because of Brandon and Rickard Stark's death, he hated the way they had kept depicting Rhaegar as they had For he was sure word had been sent to inform them of Lyanna's marriage to the prince. Ned Stark didn't seem to know about the wedding nor of the child. While Wylla swore that Princess Lyanna had received a letter from Ellia Martel confirming that she knew about their situation and had thanked her for the signed letter she'd sent to confirm that none of Lyanna's children would usurp Aegon and Rhaenys or come before them in the lines of succession. They would be true kin to each other, Rhaenys, Aegon, and Baelon, three heads of the dragon, and Princess Lyanna had named them as a pack, or so Wylla had said.

The more unveiling of the truth that Ned heard, the more lost he felt. Wylla had known so much. He couldn't understand why she would speak about Jon all his life, while knowing about his real name and status, and yet say nothing to either of them.

"So you mean to tell us our aunt was set aside willingly?" Sarella's question to Wylla brought Ned back from his thoughts.

"From what I knew, yes. Princess Elia was supposed to stay at Dragonstone, away from the chaos of Westeros. Both Princess Lyanna and Princess Elia corresponded until the Mad King ordered Elia to come to the Red Keep. At first, the plan was to have Lyanna travel to Dragonstone, but your Aunt was the one to make the suggestion that they hide in Dorne until the end of Lyanna's pregnancy. She feared Aerys knowing Lyanna was there and taking her as a hostage to have Ned Stark come and be executed." Wylla's words explained and yet raised questions too.

"She and our cousins ended up being the ones taken instead." Tyene said bitterly.

"Lyanna told her many times to come with them or to send the children at least, but Elia didn't want to put any attention on Dorne by moving there so suddenly. Aerys would declare war on your family as soon as she would have set a foot in Dorne, so paranoid as he was by then. Ser Arthur and Princess Lyanna always said that people tended to underestimate Princess Elia because she was frail, but she was as strong and stubborn as an auroch. She had a mind for political moves and she was trying to prevent Dorne from getting involved in the war." Wylla explained.

"Well it didn't work well for her, did it?" Sarella spat.

"War was inevitable, Princess. The Mad King was uncontrollable and he had already started to burn people at court. We could blame Prince Rhaegar for a lot of things, but he and Princess Lyanna tried their hardest with Princess Elia. They did all they could to make their family as secure as they were able. It was actually because of Elia being made hostage at Court that Rhaegar left Lyanna. Because he cared for her and their children more than he did his father's bidding."

"It doesn't matter." he finally said, drawing the attention onto him which made him uncomfortable for a moment. "Rhaegar, Elia, Lyanna, Aegon, and Rhaenys, they're all dead. We could stay here and argue that Elia had it worse than Lyanna and that she had been treated badly, but what good will it do?"

"That's my family you're talking about!" Tyene almost shouted.

"They weren't yours only." Wylla retorted, making Tyene gasp. "Did you not hear what Baelon said? Can you imagine hoping your mother to still be alive only to realize that not only she isn't, but your entire family that you had known nothing about are dead as well?"

There was naught but silence at Wylla's outburst and Ned's heart broke for his milk brother. It was almost impossible for him to see him as anything other than that. They both had been saved from starvation by someone that he considered his second mother, and he had always seen how Wylla longed for Jon and prayed for his wellbeing. So he instinctively followed, finding himself drawn to a man he had never seen and excited to meet him one day should he have the chance. It was why he'd so wished to come North and had planned to do so, though he had hoped the circumstances would be different when he did.

Now that he knew all the things that Baelon had been through before he had found out about his true name, Edric was amazed by the man's strength. Baelon was determined to share his truth and to defend his family's honor while acknowledging his kin's flaws and the grief that was coming from the people around him. That he had mourned Arthur's sacrifice and had stated how he'd wish to have him by his side almost made Ned cry, but not as much as being acknowledged as the new Sword of the Morning by the Future King of Westeros.

"Sarella, Ned is right." he was surprised to hear Tyene say. "Baelon sent his Priestess to save our lives, despite the way that Mama had dismissed his council before. I still don't know how she knew what we needed, but she saved us on his behalf. He could have let us die and yet Dorne would have still followed Daenerys, and yet he didn't. That's all I need, sister. All I need to know is that and that he speaks the truth and is indeed a good man."

"So you'll follow him because he saved your life?" Sarella asked, her voice full of recrimination.

"No, I would do so because this is the right thing to do. Moreover, we are about to face a freaking army of dead men and I'd rather follow him than someone else because he actually survived their last encounter." Tyene answered matter-of-factly.

Edric nodded, smiling proudly at the Sand Snakes for not putting too much of a fight and thinking things through. Sarella's new status as Princess of Dorne, as well as Tyene's experiences as Cersei's prisoner, had made them grow and act less rashly, which was a good thing for Dorne as a whole. He had only been a Lord for a short time but had always been advised to think of all possibilities before reaching a decision.

"Dawn is a formidable sword, Edric. It can be used to protect and serve as a knight should the weak and defenseless, yet it can also bring death and destruction. The Sword of the Morning must choose wisely how to use its potential. I hope you could one day be the kind of man Arthur was, my son." his father had told him before passing away.

He hoped they were proud of him, both his parents and Arthur, that they were proud of the person he had become and of what he was about to do.

"I need to see him, Wylla. I need to talk to him." he said after a few moments of silence.

"I knew you would say this, child. I will see what can be done." she said and left the room immediately, but not without kissing his forehead in a motherly way.

"Do you think she could get him to come?" Tyene asked.

"Have you seen how protective he is of Wylla?" Sarella said. "Of course, she will."

"That poor knight soiled himself so much when the wolf jumped over him!" Tyene said with a chuckle.

"She's the closes to a mother that he had. Baelon would let no harm come to her." Ned added knowingly.

"Well, he behaved like a proper Dornishman. That's one good point for him." Sarella said.

"And I wager he will garner more points in the days to come." Ned smirked.

"Oh, interesting… How much would you bet on that?" Sarella challenged.

"The question is how much would you bet on that, my Princess?" Ned goaded her, knowing full well she hated the moniker.

"How about we talk about your price, Lord Dayne? Would you wager Dawn in support of your future king?" she replied and made him tense.

"Oh, no-no-no. Don't go there, Sarella. You can't ask that of him. He earned it." Tyene chastised her sister. "Keep it friendly."

"Very well. Ten golden dragons."

"Deal." Ned replied, extending his hand to seal the deal.

Sarella hesitated before shaking it, as if judging if he would have taken the less friendly bet, and she seemed to realize that he definitely would have, for the relieved sigh she let out when they separated to let him figure out that she knew she had already lost.

It didn't take long for Wylla to come back and lead him to Baelon. He was starting to feel anxious about the meeting and a look at Wylla made him ask something he was dying to know.

"Why didn't you tell me? Did you not trust me to keep the truth about him?"

"I trust you with my life, Ned, and I love you as a son. This has nothing to do with how I feel about you."

"Then why?"

"He needed to know first. I would have told you about it, truly I would have, but I needed to talk to him first. This was his life, Ned. His name, his truth, and I would have felt horrible to talk about it when he knew nothing about it."

"Why didn't you try sooner to talk to him?" he asked more curiously now.

"His uncle was the Warden of the North and as far as I know, he was not set on telling his nephew the truth about his parents. Who knows what he would have done to preserve the secret."

"You think he would have killed you?" he asked in shock.

"No, but mayhaps he would have sent Baelon to the Wall sooner. Ned Stark wanted to protect him in his way and he thought not knowing was the best option to keep Baelon alive." Wylla said while shaking her head.

"You don't agree."

"No. Though when I see how close he is with his cousins, as much as it hurts me to say it, I would say he raised him well regarding the circumstances." she said and he nodded, understanding his adoptive mother's position.

He had been surprised that Wylla brought him to Baelon's room and to hear him bid them enter as soon as they got there. Ned didn't know why he thought they would meet somewhere more formal and less intimate, and so he hadn't been ready for the hug he'd received from the future King either when Wylla introduced them.

"I'm sorry for not speaking to you sooner." Baelon said regretfully.

"'Tis no matter, Your Grace."

"Please, call me Baelon. We're milk brothers after all, and I owe your family so, so much… I…"

"Then you shall call me Ned," he said and saw Baelon wince at hearing the name. "Edric would be good too."

"No, Ned is fine. It is a good nickname. I have to say that my latest spats with some of the Lords have stirred a lot of unwanted feelings today, so I beg your forgiveness if I sounded harsh earlier. It has nothing to do with you."

"I understand, Y- Baelon."

"As I said, we are milk brothers and that means something to me. Had things been different, had my father and your uncle been alive still, I believe we would have been friends."

"You do?" Ned gasped, surprised.

"Aye." Baelon chuckled. "You would have been your uncle's squire, of this I have no doubt, and we would have sparred for hours you and I."

"I would have loved that…" he said in almost a whisper, trying to picture the scene in his head.

"Ser Arthur and my father were brothers by choice, Ned. There was none that my father trusted more, and he left him to protect the person he loved the most. I am certain that both of them would still be alive had Ser Arthur traveled with my father to the Trident, but sadly we cannot change the past." Baelon said, his sadness clear.

"What we can do however is to honor their memory," Ned said, seemingly surprising Baelon. "My uncle, the Last Sword of the Morning, devoted his life to be a Kingsguard, to protect your family and you most of all from harm."

"Ned, I -"

"I will, as the New Sword of the Morning, follow in my uncle's footsteps and pledge my sword and my life to you and your family. I will shield your back, and keep your counsel, and give my life for yours if need be. I swear it by the old gods and the new." Ned said, kneeling in front of Baelon. "I may not be as skilled as my Uncle was, but I will be yours to command, my King. If you will have me."

"Arise, Ser Edric Dayne, and do not sell yourself short, for few people have wielded the Sword you have. It is an honor for me to have your support and I feel better knowing that the Sword of the Morning will help me in the fights to come."

Edric's heart burst with joy and sadness simultaneously and he teared up, overwhelmed by his emotions. Wylla soon embraced him and whispered comforting words, words he needed to hear, and as he glanced at his milk brother, he knew he wasn't the only one who felt that way.

Winterfell 304 AC.

Jaime.

If it was not for Brienne then it would probably have been cells that he'd have found himself confined to in Winterfell. Instead, he was allowed to roam around free and armed, something he needed he had felt. It had been made clear to him that he wasn't welcomed here by the Northern Lords or Ladies nor by their men and they were not alone in how they felt. The men of the Reach looked at him with anger over his failed attempt to attack Highgarden and because of Cersei's actions in destroying the Great Sept. Margaery Tyrell, it seemed was as beloved to them as she had been to the people of King's Landing.

The Dornish blamed him for his father's actions during the Sack of King's Landing and at least here they had company, for he'd always blamed himself for not going to Elia and the children too. Other than the Free Folk and the Brotherhood Without Banners, few spoke to him or didn't look at him with disdain and so it was with them and with Brienne that he would take his meals and go about his daily activities. He'd spar, train, help with the preparations for the battle to come, and all the while he'd wonder why he was here and what Melisandre had meant about him finding the truth to Rhaegar's words in this of all places.

When it came to the Starks, he was somewhat surprised just how little interaction he had with any of them. The youngest girl would shoot him angry glares and the things he'd heard about her made him glad his name wasn't on the list that Brienne told him about. If it was then he had no doubt that she could end him easily, and even were he who he once was it would have been an even fight and one he may not win. Sansa Stark walked around with an air of regality about her and just hearing some of what she'd gone through proved the strength she possessed. Had Joffrey not been a cruel-minded fool then with her at his side who knows where his House would be now. The Young King was every bit a wolf as Robb Stark had ever been, more so mayhaps, he was respected, loved somewhat, and unlike his brother and father, not afraid to let the wolf loose as Lord Glover's death had shown. As for the other brother, Bran Stark quite simply unnerved him.

"The things we do for love."

Just thinking about his interactions with the strange boy in the chair and how he'd reacted to him when he had gone to apologize was enough to send a shiver down his spine. How he looked at him as he spoke, the things he'd said to him that he couldn't possibly have known, and the way he almost looked to be laughing internally at how uncomfortable he made him while staring at him with a face that was devoid of emotion. Jaime had spoken to the boy once and that was more than enough for him. Which brought him to the last of the Stark children, the Bastard of Winterfell and if he was ever in doubt of just how much the Starks had suffered from their foray into the Game of Thrones, Jon Snow would prove that in spades.

To be tied down by oaths and not be able to do what you wished to do was something that Jaime understood all too well. Though he had broken his, while Jon Snow had kept to his own. He'd stayed at the Wall while his family was torn apart, helped protect it, and by all accounts had stopped it from falling when it came under attack by the Free Folk. The boy had even turned down an offer from Stannis to be freed from those oaths and named Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, Jaime not understanding at first why that was. Had he not been in the Dragonpit and seen the Wight for himself, he'd not have understood it still.

How had he been rewarded for keeping to his oaths?

How had his brothers in black repaid him for saving their lives?

What honor did he receive for rebuilding a fallen order?

The boy had faced knives in the dark and had spilled his lifeblood out on the cold ground of Castle Black. Jaime had heard the tales as he sat with the Free Folk and the Brotherhood. He'd been laughed at and glared at for daring to name them untrue and Beric Dondarrion and Thoros of Myr had both told him of their own interactions with the God of Death. Unlike the Lighting Lord though Jon Snow retained far more of his humanity on his return and was still who he had once been, or so Jaime had thought until he saw him climb atop a dragon's back and fly north to the Wall. From that moment on he had so many questions. Questions that had finally been answered here tonight in this meeting and as he sat and looked to the High Table, he found he could finally see it for true.

Jon Snow was not the Bastard of Winterfell, he wasn't even Ned Stark's son. Instead, he was the son of a far better man than the Quiet Wolf. A man that Jaime had named as his prince once and as he listened to the word that Baelon Targaryen now spoke, he found himself seeing the father in the son with each one that he spoke. His words on Jaime's fallen brothers almost brought a tear to his eye and his words on Arthur actually did. To hear the regret in his voice when he wished that Arthur was here today was something that Jaime could easily relate to.

When lesser men argued, Jaime almost felt like standing up and shaming them for doing so and was he who he had once been and this friendlier ground for him, then he would have. He knew though that his words of support would not be welcomed in this hall, not by those who took issue with the fact that it was a dragon and not a wolf that they were to follow into war. For him, it was that fact that brought him a comfort he'd not felt in many a year. His prince's words were now being shown to be true and while he was not the sword he had once been and he knew that his was not the blade that Baelon would wish to call upon, call upon his blade he could and if he did, then Jaime would gladly fight for and beside him.

Eventually, the meeting began to end, and though there was mayhap still some things to be resolved, most if not all of those in that room had come to the same realization. Baelon Targaryen was the choice of the King in the North to lead the fight to come, he had the support of his cousins completely and he was the Queen's choice not only for Commander of her forces but future husband too. In time, when clearer heads prevailed, the North would realize they were still getting a king with Stark blood, and in the end, the fight to come would decide how they accepted or not Baelon Targaryen far more than anything else. Should he lead them through the war they faced, they'd kneel and name him king, should he not, then it mattered little what they thought of him, as dead men can speak no oaths.

"I always knew he were more than they named him." Munda said loudly as they walked from the hall.

"Aye, King Crow he is but true." Hrorir said.

"You would name him king even finding out he's a dragon?" Brienne asked curiously.

"Har, Dragon, Wolf, Snow was my king from the moment he saved my arse at Hardhome." Munda said.

"The King Beyond the Wall!" Thodir shouted loudly and as he watched the group of Free Folk walk off ready to get drunk, he heard the shouts ring out.

He turned to look at Brienne who looked confused and unsure what this meant and he was about to speak to her when he saw Lady Melisandre walk his way.

"Ser Jaime, my prince wishes to speak to you. An hour by the crypts."

"Of course my lady." he said as she turned and left as quickly as she had arrived.

For the next hour he hung around close but not too close to the Crypts, the guards at the doors making sure that none could enter, and as the night grew darker and colder he wondered if Baelon would come or was he on a fool's errand. Eventually, he saw the white wolf as it moved across the courtyard, Baelon Targaryen walking alone with it and though he stood in the dark and was unseen, he was not unhidden from the wolf's eyes as it moved to him and almost seemed to bid him follow.

Baelon had walked into the crypts and when Jaime and the white wolf reached the door, the guards stepped aside and allowed him into a place that he and others had been told was only for Starks to enter. He felt the chill immediately and it was far colder than the outside had been. Though there were candles and they offered some light, he felt it was far darker too. Was it not for the white wolf leading the way then he'd had probably stayed where he was for fear of getting lost. Instead, he followed after the wolf and found his eyes drawn to the statues as he passed. The Stark king's of old staring at him with what seemed to be judgemental eyes discomfited him and so he looked ahead and saw Baelon standing alone by some statues.

"Were you there that day?" Baelon asked as Jaime realized that he was standing in front of his uncle and grandfather's statues.

"What day my…." he stopped himself not sure what he should name the boy as, prince or king, what was he truly to him? Melisandre had named him a prince and though he wished to do so too, he wasn't sure his words would be allowed and so he withheld them for now.

"When my grandfather and uncle were murdered?"

"I was. I stood in a hall with five hundred men and not one of us moved to help them." he said with no regret, he may have hated what he saw that day but the Starks had mattered not to him.

"Because a king willed it so." Baelon said and Jaime nodded "And yet you killed that king rather than follow his will, why?"

"You know why." he said sure he was right.

"Aye, Brienne has told the tale, your brother too though I find words that Tyrion says less believable the more I know of him. Lady Melisandre and my brother Bran both have told me, though only one volunteered the information." Baelon said with a frown "I'd like to hear it in your own words."

It took him no time to tell it all, the words though sounded different to him somehow. Mayhap because he was actually telling them to a Targaryen and explaining his reasons for killing Baelon's grandfather and he wondered if he was to tell them to Daenerys would they feel the same.

"Do you have regrets about that day, Ser Jaime?" Baelon asked.

"For killing the Mad King, no. For taking a seat on a throne and thinking my work was done, much and many. I should have done my duty, I should have gone to the princess and her children and there is not a day that goes by since that one that I don't wish I could go back and do what I did not." he said his voice full of the regrets he'd carried with him for more than twenty years.

He moved when Baelon did, the statue one that didn't truly look like the man it was supposed to be, but one that was newer than the others and so he readied for the anger and recriminations to begin.

"You Served him well. When Serving was Safe." Baelon said and Jaime gasped wondering how he knew the words that he and Ned Stark had shared so many years before "He looked upon you and named you Kingslayer and the realm accepted his words because he was Ned Stark and his honor was unquestioned. Even despite the fact that to all he'd fathered a bastard, still, the Realm looked to Ned Stark and saw only an honorable man. Does that bother you, Ser Jaime?"

Turning from the statue to the boy beside him, he wondered how best to answer and found he had none to give.

"I know the truth of my uncle, and I find his honor to be most questionable. The last time we spoke he told me when next we did we'd speak on my mother." Baelon said with some spite "As the young green boy I was then, I believed it was because he'd not the time to do so then and that he wished it done when he had more. Now I know he wished it done when my truth couldn't pose a risk to his brother by choice. What kind of a man does that, Ser Jaime? What kind of a man allows his kin to swear to father no children or hold no lands, to take no wife or win no glory? And because that foolish green boy believes himself to be a bastard and a stain on an honorable man's cloak he does so. Is it the same kind of man that looks upon another and names him Kingslayer and without honor with nary a question as to why that king was slain? Is that why you didn't tell him about the Wildfire that still may lay under King's Landing?"

"I don't know." he said to a small laugh as Baelon moved to a different statue, this one of a woman who once again it had barely captured well.

"Given the statue of my uncle, I doubt this is how my mother truly looked, and certainly it is not how she does in the dreams I have of her. She and my father loved each other, Ser Jaime. With all they had they loved each other and here I stand as the only proof of that love. Men left that hall and my words will not have changed how they think of them both. To some, my father will always be a rapist and kidnapper, to others my mother will be a woman who enraptured a married man and stole him away from his wife. Some may name them as the reason for a war that was not their fault and me as their shame made flesh."

"Then they are fools." he said to a small bitter laugh.

"The world is full of fools, Ser Jaime. Yet they need to be saved as much as those who are not. Lady Melisandre told me what my father said to you all those years ago, it would seem that not only Daenys the Dreamer who had some notion of what the future may bring to our House, but my father did somewhat too. There are those who'll name me a fool for what I'm about to do and yet I care not. Was my uncle still alive and here today he'd no doubt argue with me and tell me I was forsaking my honor and yet I care not for what Ned Stark thinks or says for I know the truth of the man now."

Baelon moved to the statue and Jaime watched as he kissed the cheek and placed something in the outstretched hand.

"I have need of your blade and your counsel, I may not be able to name you what you once were as I am a king without a crown, but I'd ask you to serve me as if I was." Baelon said turning to look at him "The fight to come is one I cannot fight alone, Ser Jaime, will you fight it with me, will you fight by my side."

"With honor, your grace."

"Fuck honor, fight with passion, with desire, with truth and good, but fuck honor. For honor only leads to death and death is our enemy's domain."

They walked out of the Crypts together, the white wolf by Baelon's side and Jaime standing at his back, hand on sword, a Kingsguard without a white cloak. He was unchained by vows and oaths and never had he felt more true than he did right then.

Winterfell 304 AC.

Rickon Stark.

He went into his familiar as soon as the meeting came to an end, the mouse more discreet than Ghost would have been yet as attuned to emotions as his shared wolf companion. She had agreed to be Rickon's spy in exchange for food for her and her family and protection against those who would harm her. As the wolves so loved to play with smaller prey residing in the broken Tower. He had given her a place to live in his rooms and she was quite content with their arrangement, for now.

He could hear the Lords of the North arguing with the Free Folk who still didn't get why they were so hung up on Jon not being his father's son.

"Come on! Stop being so fucking gloomy about a stupid name! It doesn't change his personality or what he feels in his heart!" Nessa, ever the blunt one, exclaimed.

"His father... His uncle lied to us all!" Lady Tallhart said, seemingly still in shock. "To think I've been named after this man!"

"So what? Are you going to sit here and whine about a name and a dead man lying when you have more important things to care about right now?"

"Like The Jon riding a dragon and marrying his aunt." Hugo Wull said.

"Didn't you marry your cousin, Big Bucket?" Brandon Norrey asked, frowning.

"It's different. He's a Targaryen. Nothing good comes for us when Targaryen marry each other." Hugo spat.

"That's horseshit since you didn't seem to mind when you thought him a Stark?" Nessa said shaking her head.

"That's because you don't know our history. You don't know what the last Targaryens put us through." Rickard Ryswell protested.

"Aye, you're right. But I know Jon Snow. I know he saved me and me people and that he paid for it with his life. I know he would do anything to protect his family, his pack. The Old Gods have blessed him with a Direwolf and a dragon for a reason. I don't care about his name. I care that he cares about us and that he is here to fight with us. For us." Nessa said loudly to the nods of some of the heads nearest her.

"She's right." Larence Snow said. "We cannot forget all he did for us. He was willing to fight the Boltons to rid the North of them and save king Rickon. He went to treat with the South for us so they could bring reinforcement against the army of the dead."

"And now he's riding a dragon. He could burn us all."

"For the Old Gods' sake, Rickard, get your head out of your arse for once!" Barbrey Dustin, to Rickon's surprise, intervened. "I don't like this situation either, brother. You know better than most how much I despise Ned Stark, may his spirit never find peace for all the trouble he put us in. It will take time to get over the lies and deceptions, but it is not the lad's fault."

"Barbrey -"

"I was told before you all. The perks of being in the council, I guess." she said nonchalantly to gasps.

"And you said nothing? Wait... Manderly, Mormont, they all knew about it?"

"Our king bid us for some time to let Baelon share his truth, and we followed our king's wishes. What are you going to do about it? Call for a trial by combat because things were hidden from you?" she sneered, making the free Folk laugh. "The point is that I wanted to see if knowing his real parentage would have changed him. That's why I goaded him during the meeting. King Rickon assured us that he was the same and I have to agree with him on this."

"He could have stated that he was a Targaryen, flown off with his dragon to demonstrate how powerful he was, and say that he would rule us all no matter what we decided and end the meeting there." Talia Forrester said and Rickon could feel the sadness in her voice. "Instead, he stood there and took all of your anger and the insults that were thrown at him. I wasn't born during the Rebellion, but my mother lost all but one of her brothers. I remember the pain in her voice when she recounted that they'd lost everything and if she hadn't already been married to Father, they would have had nowhere to go. King Robert took their lands and gave them to a house loyal to him because they were from the Stormlands and fought for the Targaryens. So I understand your anger at being reminded of the past, but I don't think it is fair to put the blame on him."

"You all named Rickon Stark our king because of his name. Because he was the son of Ned Stark. Now that you are angry at his father, will you stop following him?" Nessa asked suddenly. "I bet the idea didn't even cross your mind."

Rickon laughed at the chastised face of the Lords but couldn't stay to hear their answer, as he was still recovering from his warging on Viserion and there was somewhere else he needed to go.

"Do we really have to, Master?" the mouse asked, fearfully.

Yes, I am sorry. I need to get closer to him warg into something else, but I swear you won't have to see him.

"I trust you. It is him I do not trust."

As everyone should. he chuckled.

He looked for him in the keep and finally found him in his rooms, surprisingly. Bran had stayed more and more to the Godswood until Jon's return. Without showing any sign of fatigue or cold which was even more troublesome, especially since Meera and Tormund had pointed out that the weather was getting colder than what they had experienced beyond the Wall.

He was about to search for another animal to share his mind with when Bran's voice rang out from inside his room.

"I am well, brother. Do not worry about me. Is it worry I sense, or fear? In any case, you should not fear me. I am well. You however should not be warging. You should rest, for you have done the impossible and it is no small feat."

Fuck! Rickon swore at the same time as the mouse before exiting her mind to let her run far away from the one thing she feared more than the wolves.

How could he feel his presence so well when he struggled to do the same?

He supposed that Bran's powers had been enhanced through trial and error ever since the incident at the Godswood, but he had never fully shown the extent of his newfound abilities, and thus far neither had Rickon. His words however confirmed Rickon's suspicions about his older brother and that he had something to do with what had happened to Viserion.

Rickon had felt it when he'd warged into the golden dragon, the same presence he had felt following him the moment he'd learned to control his warging abilities. The same presence he'd felt when he'd travel from Greywater Watch to Dragonstone. It had been there too when he was almost burned in the hawk's body. And Meera's own doubts about Bran had done nothing to assuage his fears.

She'd cornered him once the council after Jon's departure was over and almost dragged him back to his solar without a word, looking around to see if they were spied on.

"Do you feel Bran's presence around you, watching you?" she asked hurriedly.

"No. I do not. why -"

"There's something wrong with him, Rickon." Meera said worriedly.

"There's always been something wrong with Bran." he said dismissively.

"No, you do not understand. Have you seen him ever since Jon left on the dragon's back? I mean, really seen him?"

"I… He tried to talk to me about the bullshit he wanted me to believe from our last argument, so I told him to fuck off and I'm avoiding him ever since."

"I think that's what he wanted you to do. I think he knows what is happening or what is going to happen, and I can see signs of happiness in his features."

"Happiness?" he asked confused.

"I told you, ever since his training with the Three-Eyed Raven, he had shown little to no emotion, and the last time I saw him react emotionally at all was to you. Seeing you he was caught off guard meaning that he is capable of emotions. I've been looking at him since I came back and I can see it more clearly now. Something in all this mess is making him happy." Meera said her voice now tinged more with anger than worry.

"You mean that he enjoys seeing us cleaning after the dragons' mess?" Rickon frowned at Meera's lack of an answer. "There's more to it, isn't it?"

"You know he's a warg… The Three-Eyed Raven is supposed to be the most gifted greenseer beyond the Wall… And the most gifted warg as well. I talked to my father about it, and I think Bran…"

"You think he warged into the dragon." Rickon deduced.

"What I don't understand is what he would gain from this. Sending the dragons to the Wall now, unless the army of the dead has to be dealt with immediately, it makes no sense."

"It makes sense if he wants to out Jon as a Targaryen." Rickon mused, knowing that Meera had been told by her father.

"Why would he do that?"

"Because he doesn't want Jon and Daenerys together. He said it would lead to Jon's death and the fall of our family. He's already tried to make me ask Jon not to pursue any relationship with her. He tried to ask Jon himself. I don't know why he would do that, but I can't believe what he says. My instincts warned me about him and I cannot trust him, I know now that he tried to play me because of my love for Jon…"

Meera seemed shaken with this information and sat on a chair to steady herself.

"I… I will talk to him…" she finally said.

"No. I will."

"My brother died so he could become this thing. He thinks he knows me, but the Meera he knew died at that cave too." She said and moved to the door with determination.

"He will see you coming, Meera. He will try to manipulate you."

"Let him try."

Rickon knew there would be no stopping her, but he still felt for her safety. He couldn't outright follow her but he would be with her while she talked to Bran. If Rickon's brother was in the Godswood as he suspected, then he would use the Heart Tree to eavesdrop on their conversation.

He arrived just in time as they entered the Godswood.

"Ask what you want of me, Meera. I know there is something troubling you." Bran said in his usual monotone way.

"What did you do, Bran?"

"What do you mean?"

"Was it you? Did you warg into the dragon?"

"Does it seem like I'm warging now? You've seen me with Hodor, with Summer." Bran asked emotionlessly and Rickon thought he had a point, for he had seen his brother warg more than once and he would not be able to talk. Rickon himself could not stay alert and warg at the same time.

"Not now, but you could have sent him north." Meera said accusingly.

"What would I do that for?"

"I don't know!"

"I tried to warg into one of them, I will not deny it., but it was only to find out what ailed them. I couldn't even reach out to them, and I tried my hardest to make sure Jon would be safe. We need him to defeat the Night King."

"What do you mean? You couldn't warg into them?"

"A dragon is not a slave, Meera. It is impossible to warg into them."

"I don't believe you." she said shaking her head.

"You hate me still. For Jojen. For all the lives lost so that I can live. I hate myself too, you know?"

"Do not try your mind tricks with me, Brandon Stark. I know you better than you think." she growled and Rickon felt all her anger through the roots of the Heart Tree. "I know something happened in that cave that changed you. You've been different ever since the day you disobeyed Bloodraven and got all of our friends killed."

He saw it, the twitch of Bran's mouth that quickly disappeared. The same one he used to make when he was unsettled.

"You saw the Night King. He saw you. What did he say to you? What did he do to you?" Meera demanded.

"Nothing." Bran lied, touching his wrist.

"His mark is still on you, right? It didn't disappear, meaning that he always knows where you are."

"He knows a lot of things about me, and I know little about him, which puts me at a disadvantage. Now if you will excuse me, Meera, Brother, I would like to get on my mission to find out more about our enemy."

"Your brother…" Meera began only for Bran to impatiently interrupt her.

"Is in the tree, watching us. Because he doesn't trust me. Because he doesn't want to admit that I was right about Jon. Soon, you'll realize how far gone he is, and I pray the Old Gods that it won't be too late." Bran said, looking straight to the face carved into the tree and sending a chill deep into Rickon's mind.

He had then discussed his older brother's mark with Meera and Howland before Jon got back.

They talked about the possibility of Bran being controlled by the Night King, of him not being totally himself, and Rickon did not feel as hopeful as Meera when she said that once the Night King would be dealt with, Bran would be better. Both father and daughter promised to always keep an eye on Bran, to alleviate some of his fears, and he was grateful to be able to count on them for the task.

Rickon felt Ghost calling him, meaning that Jon was finally alone. He knew the timing was not ideal, but there were things unsaid between them, things that unsettled Rickon and he was resolute to talk to his brother about what he was feeling.

He joined him silently in the crypts, where Jon was looking at his mother. Rickon never liked this place, as it reminded him of the time the Ironborn took the keep and how Bran and he hid while their people were massacred. He felt a pang of immense guilt about not being able to save any of them. Ser Rodrik, Mikken, Farlen, Gage, Old Nan, Maester Luwin… Even the Septon whom he greatly disliked for his attitude toward Shaggydog. None of them had deserved to die.

"So, how's embracing your new identity going?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"So far, so good. The meeting went better than I expected." Jon said and he chuckled.

"I want to send a gift to Wylla for doing what I've been wanting to do for moons. Yohn Royce is a cunt."

"Aye, he is. Just so you know, while I should not condone what was done to him… Wylla was looking for a warmer cloak." Jon said changing what he was going to halfway through and smiling by the end.

"I'll see one is given to her."

"I haven't seen Lord Glover at the Northern table?" Jon asked.

"You won't see him again. I brought him Northern justice." Rickon answered to Jon's surprise.

"What did he do?"

"His usual, he bitched and moaned and whined about you and me. But he went too far this time." Rickon said hoping the explanation was enough.

"Thank you, brother." Jon said and looked at him for the first time since he arrived in the crypts. "I know the Lords must have given you a hard time because of me and Rhaegal. Thank you for supporting me, for Viserion… For everything. "

"How is he?" Rickon asked, not wanting to show how the distance between them at that moment pained him.

"Better. He knows now that we will help him if the Night King tries to enslave him again." Jon said happily.

"You truly believe it was the Night King?"

"You felt his presence, didn't you? You felt something -"

"I did, but I don't think…"

"I felt him, Rickon, I felt him brush my mind. He called me and asked me to join him." Jon said and Rickon frowned.

"You talked to the Night King while inside Viserion?"

"Aye. He wanted Viserion and he wanted me also." This worried Rickon and it seemed that Jon picked up on his brother's emotions, as he came closer and lifted his head so he could meet his gaze. "I am well, brother. Truly. Now that we know what the Night King can do, we can prepare accordingly and watch for the signs should he try anything else."

Rickon nodded, unable to say anything else. His heart constricted and his eyes filled with tears as he willed himself to say something. Why was it so hard to talk to Jon now?

Because he is not Jon anymore… He is Baelon Targaryen now… a voice annoyingly sounding like Bran answered in his mind.

"Rickon?" Jon asked concernedly.

He shook his head, breaking eye contact with the man he still considered his brother, even though he was not.

"Rickon." Jon asked again and Rickon sighed.

"Do I have to call you Baelon now?"

He hated how weak he sounded at that moment, even more so when Jon forced him to look at him.

"Does that bother you?"

"I… It's hard not to think of you as Jon. It was Jon who came to me when I needed help. It was Jon who helped me rise from the dead, Jon with whom I shared all my secrets. I know this sounds stupid, but since you've known how Aunt Lyanna has named you…"

"You fear I've changed?"

"I can feel the change in you!" Rickon yelled and Jon recoiled in shock. "I could feel it slightly before, but our minds brushed inside of Ghost, then with Viserion… You think a lot about being a Targaryen and embracing your heritage."

"Because I am a Targaryen and I have to deal with the weight of it! But that doesn't mean that I don't love you or don't care about you!" Jon exclaimed, visibly hurt.

"I know that! I know! That doesn't mean that it's easy for me to let you go!" Rickon finally yelled back. "Soon you'll be gone. You're going to get married and live South with Daenerys."

"I thought that was what you wanted. We've talked about it and you suggested it, Rickon."

"I do! I did! I… It's just… I miss when things were more simple. When all that mattered was to survive the army of the dead. When all I feared was that we wouldn't survive the war. Now I can feel our bond weaken. I can feel it and I don't fucking know why and I do not like it."

"Did something happen? Did Bran mess with you again?" Jon asked and Rickon saw how his lips tightened and the angered look in his eyes when he mentioned their brother.

"I think… I think Bran was the one to warg on Viserion." he said shakily.

"What? Why would he do that?"

"Because of who you are. Because he wanted everyone to know you were a Targaryen. Because he wanted to prove to me that he'd been right in saying that it would change everything. I know you said you felt the Night King but I… I just feel that Bran has something to do with this."

"It can't be. I know Bran hasn't been the best brother lately, but we both know that at least he wants the Night King's end as much as we do. Sending Viserion to the enemy would not be the best way to end him."

"You're right. You're always right…" Rickon sighed, mentally exhausted with this conversation. "It's been a long day. I would ask Tormund for some goat's milk and then go to bed."

"No goat's milk, Rickon."

"I deserve a reward for dealing with your mess." he said while forcing a laugh.

"No goat's milk for you. You're too young to drown your sorrows with strong beverages, I'll allow you an ale maybe two but that's it." Jon growled and Rickon stuck out his tongue at him. "I'm serious, Rickon. I know you feel overwhelmed and I'm sorry for not having been there for you as I used to be. It was a tough time for me and I don't seek excuses. I just…"

"You're Baelon Targaryen, now." Rickon said, the sentence summing up all that stayed unsaid between them.

"Aye, I am, and you're still my brother." Baelon added before engulfing him in a warm hug.

"I know." Rickon sighed, finally letting himself go in his brother's arm. "Is it wrong for me to still think of you as Jon?"

"No, brother. I will always be Jon to you. What I'm called can never change what is between us Rickon, only you and I can do that. You are my brother, you've always been my brother and you always will be my brother. I would be lost without you, I'd have floundered and twisted in the wind and been lost. Who I am, what that means, it would have buried me under a weight that I could never bear, had I not had a brother to share that weight."

"Jon.."

"I love you brother, don't ever forget that. I love you."

"I love you too, brother." Rickon said, feeling his own weight be lifted slightly from him and the burden shared once more.

Winterfell 304 AC.

Jaqen H'ghar.

Never before had he questioned a mission from the Many-Faced God and no one in the order had ever refused one, so he did not. Yet as he traveled first to Westeros and then to the North, he found he had no real desire to carry this one out. He felt that they were wrong to seek this death and mayhap he even worried that he'd not be able to see it through. Both because of his own sentiments regarding the girl and her own ability, which was not to be underestimated.

He'd been given free rein on this too, allowed to take other lives as he saw fit, all in order to take the one that was owed. So he'd taken first one and then another and then another. Jaqen knew full well that he'd need more than one face to not just get close to the girl, but to ensure that she didn't know that he was trying to do so. He traveled as a guard among the men of the Reach, as an Unsullied with the Queen's army, and as a Dothraki screamer too. Each face offered him a place to hide and fit in and hopefully not be noticed as he did so.

He knew that once he got closer to the girl, none of these faces would do and that he'd need to seek at least one other and that it would take him time to find the right one. The girl had learned much during her time at the House of Black and White and had she truly become No One, then he believed they'd not have known her equal in time. She had never been No One though, had never fully embraced what it meant to give yourself completely to the Many-Faced God and so she had left not as their servant but as her own.

"I am Arya Stark of Winterfell and a girl is going home."

Those words were said far more truly than when she had ever said others. Yet he'd believed those others too and she'd learned to play the game of many faces just as truly as he or others had. It took some time for the ships to arrive North and even more to ride the distance to Winterfell itself. Jaqen made the journey wearing the Dothraki face he took and not feeling the cold or the long days in the saddle as some others clearly did because of it.

When he saw the large keep come into view it brought a smile to his face, unbidden though it was. Knowing that this was the place that she'd been born and had never truly let go of, was something he could now understand and when they entered the grounds and he dismounted, his eyes began to search her out. It was other eyes that he found though and not her grey ones. Brown eyes of a boy who sat in a wheeled chair and who offered him a knowing smile. It made him wonder if he should take the boy's face, more so when he found out that this was her kin, and yet something held him back from doing so.

The next set of eyes disturbed him even more, these the red of a white wolf and he knew that he would need to keep well away from their owner. As he would the dark gold of the she-wolf that he saw move close to the white one. He was soon to find out that this was easier said than done. For while the white wolf followed after the boy they'd named as king or the brother that Arya Stark of Winterfell was never able to forget, the she-wolf it turned out was far too close to the life that was owed to the Many-Faced God.

"Come there is work to do." he heard a voice call out in Dothraki and so he spent his day doing as a Dothraki should and not doing what a servant of the Many-Faced God must.

He found this was true the next day as well and so it wasn't until the third day after he'd arrived at Winterfell that he began to go about his truer work. He wore the face of a Northman that he'd taken the night before and moved through the grounds almost unseen and unbothered. Though he kept his distance, he saw some of what he needed and then almost believed he'd found the perfect face in the Smith that he had heard people speak of Arya Stark knowing.

For two days and nights, he watched the Smith and found no sign of Arya Stark and so he discarded the idea of using that face. He instead took a servant's face so he could gain access to the keep and found guards almost everywhere he looked, except on Arya Stark's door, and yet he knew that her room would be the hardest of all to enter. She'd wait inside and be prepared for him or who they sent for her and she'd have prepared the room to her advantage just as she had prepared the perfect ground to face the Waif. For him to face her there would be the end of him and so it would need to be on different ground that he gave her the gift.

Different ground and with a different face and so once again it was finding that face that he focussed on. It made him look to the Starks themselves, to the red-headed girl and the young boy king, both of whom spent much time in Arya Stark's company or as much as anyone did. Both were too well protected though and not just by the guards, the number of men and women that sought their time, or the two wolves that spent as much time with them as they did with who he now knew they were bonded to. Arya Stark too watched over them both with a protective eye and he'd not risk being discovered while trying to take their faces and thus failing to do what he'd been sent here for.

He looked to the brother she'd never been able to forget and the fact that he was here was enough to give him pause. A different man had been sent to give Jon Snow the gift and had failed and while he may not, he still was not the life he'd been sent to take and to seek two was to court disaster. Mayhap if he was successful and gave Arya Stark the gift, he could then use her face and bring it to Jon Snow. It would be better than try using his to give Arya Stark the gift, safer too, given the one who'd already failed in doing so.

"A king, can you believe it Artos, Jon Snow is a fucking king and always has been. No wonder he was able to do all he did, the boy's a fucking Dragonrider." an older man said slapping him on the back and it took Jaqen a moment to clear his mind and become No One again.

"Aye Beron, we should have fucking known." he said in a voice not his own, and he felt the slap once more and then a mug of ale was placed in his hand and he drank it down with the man beside him.

Eventually, he settled on the face he would use, it had taken him far longer than he had expected and it was only by the grace of the Many-Faced God that he'd not been discovered. The owner of that face wasn't a friend of Arya Stark and not even someone she liked all that much. If anything they were someone that she'd seek to end sooner than speak to, which was what made them perfect for what Jaqen needed them for. Anger was a tool that some used to their advantage, for those who trained in the House of Black and White it was one of the first things they had to give up on. For anger clouded the mind and didn't allow you to get lost and become No One and so it would be Arya Stark's anger that would be used to allow him to get close enough to bring her the gift.

"Valar Morghulis" he said softly as he followed after his new target.

Winterfell 304 AC.

Bran.

He had been so close, he'd brought the dragon right to where he could be taken and held him under his sway. True, the timing needed to be perfect as he couldn't afford to be connected when the Night King took him for his own, but he was well aware of that danger and so he'd not fall into the trap. Yet the dragon's will was stronger than he had expected and while he'd managed to get him to the Wall, he'd not been able to get him to fly over it. Had he, then nothing could have saved the dragon from what came next and Bran wouldn't have needed to have stayed connected to him for so long.

Even still, he'd believed it was only a matter of time and had almost laughed to himself when he'd felt Jon in the dragon's mind. His cousin may be magical and in some ways even more so than he, but warging was not where Jon's power lay and his attempts would be no match for his own, or so he thought. Jon it seemed was far cleverer than he'd imagined and he'd somehow managed to reach out to his brother and the more time Bran spent around Rickon, the more those old worries and fears he once had, now began to raise their heads once more.

He was supposed to be dead.

He'd sent him to his doom.

The power was his and his alone.

He was to be the Three-Eyed Raven, he and no other and certainly not his brother.

Together Jon and Rickon were more than a match for him and even the presence of the Night King which caused Jon's focus to turn there wasn't enough to stop him from being forced from the dragon's mind. It left him exhausted and even blinded for a while. So he was forced to be like these pathetic others who looked to the skies and sought out the dragon's return. His ravens wouldn't fly and he felt for the first time in so long to be what he had always feared he would be, a nothing, a nobody, an irrelevance.

That was not to be his fate, the world had taken far too much from him for him to allow that be his fate. So since he could not fly for now in this world, he'd instead flown in another and it had been over skies and lands of the past and future that he had spread his wings across. Why it was him of all people he found himself focusing on he knew not, yet the deeper he looked, the clearer it became. Ser Bronn of the Blackwater should pose no problem to his plans and yet following the tread he could see exactly where it led and he liked it not.

Tyrion sat in a room with a whore and looked in shock to the door as the guards burst in. Men of the Reach dragged him outside where his own guard stood with swords to their necks. Through the streets, he was dragged unceremoniously and with not a care for his comfort. His protests fell on deaf ears and soon enough he was in the Red Keep and thrown into a dungeon. It was the eunuch who went to him and told him why he'd been arrested and what his fate was to be.

"You tried to kill a king, Tyrion, plotted to see him fall, and that you sent a man who cares so much about his own hide and that said king is protected by a white wolf and a green dragon is the only reason your death will be clean."

"Lies, I never…."

"The time for pretense is over, Tyrion. Ser Bronn thought more of himself than he did of your offer and confessed his part in things to their graces. He sold you out and not even double what he was offered to do so can save you now. This was not how I wished your end to be, but alas this was the only end you could ever have known it seems." Varys said as he walked away.

Bran didn't watch further, he didn't need to see Tyrion's head be taken nor placed on Traitor's Walk, instead he looked more into the man who would be the cause of Tyrion losing his head and what losing that head would mean for Bran himself. The latter was easy enough to see and it was as bad as he feared. Without Tyrion, the path to the throne and his destiny was not only more difficult but one he wasn't sure he could make come true and so it was to Bronn he looked and to a different path, Bran smiling when he finally found all he needed.

"Could you ask Ser Bronn of the Blackwater to meet me in the Godswood, you'll find him amongst the Dornish party close to Princess Sarella's sister Lady Tyene." he said to one of the servants who feared all that he knew of her.

"Of course, my lord." the girl said nervously and Bran called for his guards and bid them take him to the Weirwood tree.

He was looking at the threads of time when Bronn arrived, watching his plans play out as he wished them to and when the man coughed loudly to inform him that he was here, Bran opened his eyes to look into a set of suspicious ones.

"You sent for me?'' Bronn asked, showing no signs of nervousness at being in his presence, one of the few who did not.

"How much have you heard about me Ser Bronn?" he asked, his voice as emotionless as ever.

"Enough." Bronn replied.

"The mission you were sent here on is doomed to fail, you know this?" he asked and Bronn nodded "The plan you've made in its stead will cost you your life. I've seen your death, Ser Bronn of the Blackwater, you fall as Lord Glover did to my brother's blade, a different brother though it is."

"What?"

"Lord Tyrion has taken steps to make sure that should you betray him, things will come out that will cost you your head. Or do you think a Dragon Queen will forgive the man who tried to kill one of her dragons?"

"That was…"

"War, a fight for life, a choice between you and her? It matters not, not to the dragons and it's not just that which Tyrion seeks to blame you for, he'll name you as the man who brought the deal to the Frey's that led to the death of my brother and mother." Bran said to an angry response.

"I played no fucking part in the Red Wedding."

"Aye, I know, yet an angry dragon and angry wolves will care not and your words will matter little in the end, nor will they save you."

"Fuck this." Bronn said turning to leave and Bran felt unsure of what steps he'd take and so he readied to ensure they'd be the ones he wished him to.

"Do you know who your father was?" Bran asked stopping the man in his tracks "Would you like to?"

"I care not for that fucking cunt." Bronn said and yet didn't move.

"Your mother was no whore, Ser Bronn, though you have always named her as such to stop further questions and though your father loved her not, he still provided for her and you for as long as he could. Even when he'd found another to warm his bed, he still did all he could for his son. Do you think this is the life he'd have sought for you?"

"Fuck him, he wasn't part of my life. so fuck him and what he sought and I care not who he was, so fuck you too." Bronn said moving to walk away.

"Ser Jonathor Darry was his name, a knight of the Kingsguard and a good man and true. Do you remember the house you were raised in?" Bran asked and Bronn nodded "Under the hearth, there is a metal box with a letter that names you as his son. You should seek to retrieve it. for House Darry is no more and you are its heir. That castle you have always sought is yours by right of blood, Ser Bronn, best you look to it rather than to seeking one from dragons, wolves, or lions who'll help you not." Bran said and with a nod to his guards, he was led from the Godswood, the smile he wore unseen to anyone but himself.

It was one that was wiped from his face many times over the next few days. Firstly when all three dragons arrived back unharmed and unhurt. Then when he tried once more to enter Viserion's mind only to find himself unwelcome and his entry blocked. More clearly though was at the meeting that was held and the dissension and anger that he'd believed would be shown was very much not. Few in the room truly didn't welcome the news of who his cousin was. Oh, it was hidden with some angered words and behind some testing of his cousin's mettle. But the words that Jon Snow, no Baelon Targaryen, spoke were firm and without doubt or hesitation, and the almost broken and lost Jon Snow he'd hoped he'd be when the truth finally outed was nowhere to be seen.

Following the threads of time, he saw even more worrying signs and so he was relieved when his uncle came to see him and though he never came out with the words, he knew what it was he had in his heart. So he suggested that they eat together soon, just him, his uncle and his family, his true family which Edmure seemed to appreciate. After he was left alone, he again began to look to the future, the past. and the present to see what moves could be made to counter the ones he'd not expected. It came to him eventually, the path opening up to him and though it was different, in the end, it led to the same place. Now he only needed to speak to her for the journey to begin.

That proved harder than he expected as Daenerys Targaryen and he did not cross paths and she had never nor ever would seek him out. He tried to warg into Ghost to get the white wolf to lead her to him, but that path was closed to him too and he was not welcome in the wolf's skin. Eventually, though, all things come to those who wait, and the queen, Ser Jorah, and some of her guards along with the young woman Missandei whose death he had foreseen many times and would play a part in the things to come, all made their way to his domain.

"It's beautiful is it not." he said as he sat by the tree that the queen and those with her were looking at.

"It is, a wedding here must be a magical thing." the queen said as she went to turn and walk away.

"May I have a word, your grace." he asked and she looked at him in a way he wasn't quite certain of and he worried she'd deny him.

"Of course, Lord Brandon."

"It's just Bran, your grace, I cannot be a lord of anything." he said and the lie came easily, there was only one Lordship he wished for and that was Lord of the Seven Kingdoms itself.

He saw her nod to Missandei who walked away and to Ser Jorah who moved though didn't leave and then she moved to him. It angered him to see the pity in her eyes as she looked at him in his chair and only the thoughts of what he intended to do to her stopped him from showing that anger.

"I've seen the history of your House, your grace. From when Aegon began his conquest to your father sitting on the throne. I've watched good kings, bad ones, princes who never rose, and princesses who never were allowed the chance to. From Rhaenys the Queen who never was to Rhaenyra the queen who should have been. I've seen your house at its best and its worst. In you and my brother I see the chance for the very best of all." he said and she couldn't hide her smile from him "And yet that's not all I've seen." he said sadly while shaking his head.

"What else have you seen?" she asked curiously.

"The end of your House, your grace. The end of a line that stretches back to Old Valyria. It ends with you and my brother, it ends when you are wed."

She looked at him angrily and he saw the dragon inside of her, a part of him expected to hear the roars of her children and yet the anger was a fleeting and temporary thing and the worry was what she led with.

"Baelon and I won't let that happen." she said shakily.

"It's not in your hands to stop it, your grace. Not if you and my brother wed. I know about the curse." he said and he almost cried out in joy when he saw her crumble "Without an heir. who is to carry on your name, your grace? Who is to lead House Targaryen when you and my brother are no more. "

"I…"

"My brother believes in honor, your grace, and I know that he loves you true and so it pains me to be the one to share this with you, truly it does. I see no children in your future and my brother will take no second wife nor one were you to fall after you were wed."

"You see me fall?" she asked softly.

"I've seen many outcomes, your grace, in all of them the one thing I can say for true is that the witch's words carried weight. When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east When the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves. When your womb quickens again, and you bear a living child. Then he will return, and not before."

He saw the impact the words had and how Daenerys wrapped her arms around herself at hearing him speak them and so he readied for the final nail in what was to be her coffin.

"I've seen two children born to my brother. A boy and a girl, and though their mother is not yourself, for it's a lady named Desmera that I see my brother wed, they both bear the true looks of Old Valyria just as you yourself do. The boy he names Aegon after the brother he lost or sometimes it's Rhaegar for his father. The girl though always bears the same name."

"Rhaenys for his sister." Dany said softly. and Bran wondered if she'd not heard the woman he'd named as his brother's bride or was just ignoring it for now.

"Daenerys." he said and heard her choked gasp "I'm sorry to bear this news, truly I am, but the choice ahead of you is clear your grace. You and my brother may know happiness though for how long that will be, not even I can foretell. The cost of that happiness is your House and your Line, I do not envy you the choice."

She didn't shed a tear in front of him and it took him warging into a raven outside her window to see the sobs that she shared with no one. As he looked to the threads of time once more, he saw it clearly, the path was as it had always been and the time to walk it was almost at hand.

A/N: Thanks to all who've read and reviewed. Up Next Baelon confronts Bran, a wedding is prepared for and movements from the Wall force an army to march. For those following my other fics, Purple Deception and Dragonverse should be updated this week.

Daryl Dixon: So glad you like it.

Isiah: Seven Kingdoms have been conquered, a long-held truth has been revealed, two dragons have come together and a pack has been reunited as well as preparations to face an Army of Dead have occurred, other than that nothing has been going on in the story so far.

Celexys: We will be seeing more of the Night King and he has a different motivation here which we've hinted at and will become clearer very soon. We didn't just want to go with the Kill the World for no reason and so instead we'll be delving into a lore we created for why he is how he is. Bran is exactly that and he's only getting worse as you see, by the time his end comes you'll really hate him if we do our work well. Benjen got so little use in the show that we felt he deserved better and so we wanted him to have a much larger role, we'll be seeing him very soon.

Supremus: In a way yes, then again you can argue that his actions as much as Tywin's disdain and hatred are the reason for that. Had Tyrion been the perfect son and then been denied then you can put the blame completely on Tywin but even his marrying of Tysha shows that he wasn't acting how a prospective heir should act. It would have been up to his father to choose a suitable bride for the heir or the Rock and so Tyrion by choosing Tysha showed that he couldn't be relied upon and then his activities with whores and drink afterward only add to that. Now again even had he been perfect it would have made no difference, but he was far from perfect also. Regardless of that, his anger at being denied here is misplaced as here he's not being denied what he deserved, because after killing his father the only thing he deserves is death or to be cursed by the gods.

Suppes: Blackfrye won't play a part here and Dany isn't trained to wield a sword, something we'll rectify a little.

Kingmanena: I wonder how you feel about him now lol, you're so right he does deserve it and it is coming.

Daniel: For Jon, it was the NK, Rickon felt it to be Bran, both of them were actually right as it was both Bran and the NK that the other felt.

Dunk: As you see here, Jon felt the NK reach out to him, to bid him come to him as he did with Benjen while Rickon felt Bran and so both of them were right and wrong in the same breath. Bloodraven's bow will play a part in winning, not the actual weapon that wins it, but it will play a part and without it, they may not be able to win, but I'm like you, I think an epic sword fight is how it should end. Benjen and Jon will be seeing each other very soon, a chapter more, and then they'll be reunited I think as for Bran, you can see it here.

Rhatch: So glad you liked it, Benjen knows what bran is up to almost, not quite his end game but that he can't be trusted.

DBZ: Jaime may need that other half of Ice.

Xan Merrick: Thanks my friend, hope this lived up to your expectations.

Lady Octarina: Pretty much yes, he needed him there and vulnerable and the NK would do the rest but he didn't expect Jon to be able to get through to him in time or at all. He knew Jon would mount the dragon though and so reveal his truth before he wished to do so. Benjen can cross the Wall yes, that's about to be explained in a chapter or so. Glad you liked the Dany/Edd meeting, we wanted some humor and Edd is always fun lol.

Wryesenseofhumor: I'm a big fan of the Critical Drinker because he usually hits the nail right on the head when it comes to his critiques. He's also nonpolitical in that he'll call out the agenda but not try and push his own, he's simply stating why it ruins the particular movie or story rather than it being one he doesn't agree with or subscribe to.

I saw that and it made me cringe, I've been waiting a long time for more KOTOR and the original game is something that you would think you can't mess up, yet I fear they'll derail it completely. It doesn't need an agenda or to insert diverse characters and make them badass, they're already there within it and it just needs a modern graphical polish and that's it. I wouldn't even change the storyline.

I'm so glad you said that about Obi-Wan and Luke, I feel exactly the same, the hand is just a physical representation of things, it's the lie that Obi-Wan has told him which really causes the pain, that and the what the truth means.

Bronn, as you see here, is being pushed in a certain direction, he had already decided not to go after Jon, it just wasn't worth it and so he was about to betray Tyrion instead, now he's not so certain. Olenna really was, there was so much that could have been done with her and her death really makes no sense nor does the Lannister march to HG, all you need to do is look at a map and see the issues with that march. Tarly may have turned but there are too many loyal houses along the way not to tell her that the Lannisters are marching and to give her time to send a raven to Dany, it's another example of what may be a character's end not working because of context. Tarly would never join the Lannisters and betray Olenna, just as he'd not dismiss Dany how he did. However, were Tarly to join fAegon and kneel to him, then he would do what he did in the show. He'd see Dany as trying to usurp her nephew and so he'd have no problem telling her she's not his queen. One works in context the other very much does not.

The NK having a better motivation than just Kill the world was a bit thing for us, he's not quite Jon Irenicus but he's somewhat similar in that what you may think is his goal isn't his goal, at least in regards to what Jon or the others think. Bran as you say is trying to force a path that leads to a single goal and everything he's doing is almost course-correcting to get to that path. That's it exactly with Benjen, he's that messenger and the bearer of helpful things and news but his path is a dangerous one.

Very much so, it's something that may show her true dragon side when she finds out. The child was almost bemoaning the fact that the raven they got wasn't the one they shouldn't, that they got the wrong brother.

On the bows, I think there is something in the lore or it could be simply something that I've seen in fics (the line can get blurred at times lol) about the fact that the North and the Free Folk too would never cut down the branches or the trees themselves and so it's only wood that's fallen or is discarded that's used. Bloodraven supposedly traveled to the Isle of Faces and made the bows from wood he cut down there and there is a suggestion that it's magical because of it. He never missed when firing it is something I read once, now whether that was simply because he was a damn fine archer or the god's, who knows. Here it'll play a big part in what's to come, not the main part, but without it, they wouldn't win.