Ravens flew through and out the rookery windows under the watchful eye of the patient Maester Luwin. A flurry of letters had been exchanged between Lord Eddard, Lord Bolton, Lord Royce and himself regarding fostering.

The fostering of the heir of the Dreadfort and the third son of Lord Royce had been finalised a few days ago and today was the day they were to arrive. Luwin was more concerned for young Waymar Royce than Domeric Bolton. The Bolton boy was of the North whilst Waymar had lived in the Vale all his life. He hoped Waymar would settle in Winterfell without much trouble. My duty is to care for the boys, not cosset them. He'd never coddled anyone nor had he been coddled before. Since he was a child, Luwin was destined for the Citadel – the fate of third son who was the lover of learning.

Luwin descended down the stairs of the rookery tower and headed to the cold courtyard to await the arrival of Lord and Lady Stark's wards. The maester did not have to wait for long.

First to arrive was a party of three, one bearing the grim Bolton standard – a red flayed man on a field of pink with red blood drops. The boy next to him must be young Domeric Bolton himself. Already five years old, the boy was tall for his age and had a solemn expression. The three of them rode up to Luwin, Domeric dismounting gracefully.

"Maester Luwin?" questioned the third man. Luwin nodded.

The man looked relieved. "Good. My lord Bolton does not like us to tarry, so I hope you understand why we cannot stay here for long." He handed Luwin a roll of parchment. "This is from Lord Bolton. He expects to hear a fortnightly report about his son's progress, Maester."

"Very well." Luwin dipped his head as he saw Domeric gaze up at him. "Lord Domeric. Was your journey eventful?"

"No, Maester," Domeric responded softly.

"On my lord's orders, I am to return here in a few months' time and to report my own opinion of Lord Domeric's progress," the third man spoke again. "Lord Bolton entrusts this task to me as I have known Lord Domeric since he was in the cradle. I thought it would be best to inform you of it now."

Luwin nodded slowly. From what he gathered, Lord Bolton was a silent man

who viewed everything and everyone suspiciously, and quite right so. "I will tell Lord Stark of your future visits," he said to him.

"Thank you. That will be greatly appreciated."

"Would you like to refresh yourselves before you return to the Dreadfort? You will return more speedily once revitalised."

"A kind offer, Maester, but a refill for our waterskins will be good. Our orders were to return to the Dreadfort once Lord Domeric is in your care at Winterfell." He paused for a moment. "A loaf of bread would be nice," he added sheepishly. "I am afraid we are low on travel rations." Lord Roose Bolton does not like to equip his men with a decent amount of supplies? Hmmm…I am not surprised.

"Come." Luwin beckoned for them all to follow him into the Great Hall. "As a maester, I insist for you to be well-nourished before you return to the Dreadfort. Lord Domeric, I will have a servant show you your chambers. Lord Eddard Stark had decided for you to share rooms with Lord Waymar Royce, a son of the Lord of the Runestone, and eventually his own sons, Lord Robb and Jon Snow when they are older. I trust it will not be a problem, Lord Domeric?"

The heir of the Dreadfort shook his head. "No Maester. I am eager for the day to spar against Lord Robb Stark."

A shiver ran down Maester Luwin's spine. Did Lord Bolton beat hatred against the Starks into his son already? "Lord Robb is still a little boy," he said carefully, scrutinising Domeric Bolton carefully. "Only two, as a matter of fact. You will first learn swordplay with Lord Waymar. Perhaps one day when you, Lord Waymar, Lord Robb and Jon Snow reach manhood, you will have a chance to spar against Lord Robb…under supervision of course."

Domeric nodded expressionlessly. Mayhaps he is tired? "Am I allowed to ride here?" he asked. "My aunt gave me a pony as a gift for my latest name day; it was a pony from Grandfather Rodrik's herd. Grandfather promised to show me all his horses when I am a little older."

"Of course you may ride your pony. Not today though, you must be tired, Lord Domeric. Ah, here is Desmond. He will show you your chambers and a hot meal will be prepared for you. Will you sup with us or alone?"

Young Domeric stared at him, his eyes pale. "I would like to sup alone, Maester Luwin," he said softly. "Perhaps when Lord Waymar arrives, I will dine with him if he finds it agreeable." His eyes flittered around the vast Great Hall. "Winterfell is everything my father described," he commented. "I am honoured to be one of Lord Stark's wards. My father always held him in high regard."

As a loyal bannerman should. "I will have someone send your meal to you in a few minutes," Luwin said, pushing a flagon of ale and a plate of meat towards the two others. "If there is anything you desire to know, please do not hesitate to ask, Lord Domeric." He smiled encouragingly at the solemn lordling.

"Thank you Maester," Domeric Bolton responded. "I'm certain when my mind is troubled with questions, I will turn to you for answers."


Maester Luwin could not fathom at the possible reasons why Waymar Royce could be late. An hour or two was acceptable, but three days? By the third, Luwin had no excuses to tell Domeric. Luwin was more than happy to begin Domeric's lessons on history, but he could not help but wonder at Waymar's lateness. Could the honourable Lord Yohn Royce changed his mind at the very last minute and decided to foster his son elsewhere? Luwin doubted it.

Before the sun could sink down on the third day, Ser Rodrik alerted him to the sighting of an approaching cavalcade. The gates were thrown open and Maester Luwin waited patiently at the courtyard for the cavalcade to enter. A dozen men on horses rode in, all bearing the sigil of House Royce. At the head of the orderly procession was a tall man with slate-grey eyes and very bushy eyebrows garbed in bronze armour inscribed with an assortment of runes and a cloak the colour of bronze clasped around his shoulders by a bronze brooch moulded into the shape of another rune. There was no doubt that man was Bronze Yohn Royce, Lord of Runestone and Lord Waymar's father.

Atop the pony beside him was a lad of six of slender build and grey eyes and a slight pout on his lips. He donned a furred cloak – too hot for a spring evening at Winterfell – of the finest materials and was in a suit of armour similar to the Lord of Runestone's except obviously smaller.

"You must be Maester Luwin!" Lord Royce's voice boomed across Winterfell's courtyard as he dismounted his horse and walked up to him. Did he bring all his retainers and soldiers here? Luwin could not help but wonder. Lord Bolton sent his only son to Winterfell under the protection of an old soldier and his standard bearer; Lord Royce had accompanied his third son to Winterfell with a heavily armed escort as if he was heading to war, not bidding his son goodbye at his new home. Then again, Domeric was of the North. Luwin smiled at Waymar Royce as he climbed down his pony.

"Lord Royce." Luwin dipped his head to Bronze Yohn. "Lord Waymar."

"Maester," Waymar acknowledged with an air of arrogance. Oh dear, thought Luwin. Lady Stark will not be pleased at him already. If the gods were good, he might be able to change Waymar Royce's attitude given time.

'Forgive our lateness, Maester!" Lord Royce boomed again. "It was all my fault! I attended Lyanna Baratheon's first name day tourney was injured in my last tilt against the Blackfish! Again! It was the second year running that the Blackfish won the tourney – and his great niece's name day tourneys too! By the time my party rode up to meet my son's, we were already a day late!"

"Will you stay at Winterfell for a day or two, Lord Royce?"

"We need a respite and I wish to see my son settle at his new home before we return to Runestone."

"Very well. I will have chambers prepared for you Lord Royce. I'm certain that rooms will be found for your men too."

"Excellent. I wish Runestone had a maester as efficient as you, Maester Luwin. I envy Lord Stark's good fortune!" Lord Royce patted his son on the shoulder as he barked orders at his men to dismount.

Luwin led them into the Great Hall and insisted for Lord Royce and Waymar to sit at the high table. Lord Stark would have done so too. After supper, Luwin sent servants to direct the Valemen to their rooms before heading to the maester's turret under the rookery. His desk, cabinets and shelves were already cluttered. Lately, he had began putting stacks of parchments on his bed.

Opening the window, Luwin breathed deeply as a cool gust of wind slipped in and explored his tower. Earlier that morning, he received a letter from one of the other maesters in the Citadel: summer was approaching. No doubt the southron regions edged closer to summer already whilst the North waited patiently for its turn to embrace summer. Like everyone else – highborn and low – Luwin prayed and hoped for a long and fruitful summer. Spring and autumn were usually short spans of time in comparison to summer and winter. Luwin vaguely remembered a spring many years ago that lasted two years.

However, at the cost of a long summer was usually an equally long – or longer – winter. No one wanted a long winter.

Luwin lit a candle, careful not to put it too close to his parchments or vials of herbs and liquids. He settled down and reached for a quill, a piece of parchment ready in front of him. Lord Stark, his quill scratched carefully on the paper. Your wards Lord Domeric Bolton and Lord Waymar Royce have both arrived safely at Winterfell, the latter accompanied by his father and his own men and the former escorted by no more than two men from Lord Bolton's household. The men from the Dreadfort have already left and I expect Lord Royce and his men will depart tomorrow or the day after. Your faithful servant, Maester Luwin.

As he waited for the words to dry, his thoughts drifted to the future. Winterfell would remain in good hands under Eddard Stark and then his son, Robb. Luwin learnt that it was his predecessor, Maester Walys, who encouraged Lord Rickard Stark to pursue southron matches for his children. Luwin suspected it was not a popular decision thought by the other lords of the North and strove not to earn their contempt as his predecessor had done so. In fact, it might even be wiser if Lord Eddard strengthened his relationship with the Northern lords on a more permanent notion such as matrimony…once Lady Stark gives birth to a daughter or another son or two.

Fostering Domeric Bolton at Winterfell was a wise move. Luwin guessed that once Lady Ashara had a daughter and if Domeric pleased Lord Eddard greatly, a match would be made between the two. Luwin personally approved of it. When Lord Bolton visited Winterfell – thankfully quite rarely – there was an aura of ice and ruthlessness about him.

Now, affairs of the North. Luwin was pleased to write to Lord Eddard, telling him that all was well. No more territorial disputes between unruly clans and no sudden deaths of heirless lords. As long as the Boltons remain loyal to Lord Stark, Luwin was confident there was nothing to fear.

As he put his papers away, his mind turned to young Robb's betrothal. Only a child of two, a wife had been found for him and it was no other than King Robert Baratheon's daughter. A fine match, Luwin mused, watching the yellow flames of his candles flicker. It will unite the North closer to the south. Perhaps the match will bring the North more supplies for future winters to come. Now a union with the Reach or the Riverlands will be particularly useful…

Luwin stifled a yawn. It was getting late. As he expected, entertaining Bronze Yohn and his men was exhausting mentally and physically. I will send the letters at dawn tomorrow. All men required rest – even him.


"Family, Duty, Honour?"

It was Domeric who answered solemnly and quietly this time. "House Tully – the queen's family."

"Growing Strong?"

None of Lord Stark's wards replied.

"House Tyrell," explained Luwin, pointing to the drawing of a golden rose on a grass-green field. "Their seat is Highgarden."

"Their words are very stupid," declared Waymar Royce, crossing his slender arms defiantly. "Every man grows strong at one point. My father says that only strong men can be men of the Night's Watch."

I hope you never say that to a Tyrell's face, young boy. "No words are stupid, Lord Waymar," said Luwin sternly, "and strong men are needed throughout the Seven Kingdoms, not only at the Wall. Every man grows stronger, mentally if not physically. It could also mean power, something ambitious men seek. The Tyrell words can refer to their current influence and how it grows more over time. For further notice, do not ever insult another House's words."

Domeric nodded, Waymar too though more reluctantly. "Insulting one's House words is foresight for war," Luwin continued. "Both of you are honourable young men from good families; war is the last thing you want, is that not true?"

Two more nods.

"My father often says he desires peace," spoke Domeric.

Waymar looked at him disdainfully. "What does your father know of peace? I suspect he causes more war and peace."

By the Seven! Luwin wished Lord Royce had not left. Despite the boy's young age, he was even more arrogant than he initially thought. "It's almost time for Ser Rodrik's lesson," said Luwin, standing up. "You will both go to the courtyard and meet him there. I believe this is your first lesson and you will mostly be fitted for pads and armour and such. After an hour, you will have your midday meal in the Great Hall with the steward, Vayon Poole."

He hurried out before Waymar could say anything else pompously. Luwin had already completed his morning duties and with extra time, he decided to visit the nursery and check the children's health.

Domeric was a pleasure to instruct, but Waymar…Luwin prayed to the Crone to guide both him and Waymar in the right direction. He entered the nursery and smiled as he saw the three children playing on the furred rugs with an array of toys given as gifts from other lords (mostly to Robb as name day presents). Robb laughed as Daenerys grabbed the stuffed wolf from his hands. Despite her status as Lady Ashara's bastard niece, Daenerys Sand was blossoming into a beautiful little girl with her wavy locks of silvery-blonde hair and violet eyes. She looked like her Dayne father, yet something nagged Luwin…

Sitting beside Robb was Jon Snow, a picture book open in front of him. Once in a while, Jon would look at the drawings with interest. Shuffling closer, Luwin saw it was a sketch of the Wall. A sign? He wondered. Will Jon Snow follow his uncle in a career as a man of the Night's Watch? It was a good path for a bastard. Jon was half-Stark and Starks were oft drawn to the Wall.

Luwin sat down on a chair and watched the children play. It wouldn't be long before he will start educating them, even Daenerys. Once she leaves the nursery, a septa would be found to tutor her in the feminine tasks befitting a lady from a noble house. It was regrettable Daenerys was tainted by the bastard name 'Sand'. If she was a Dayne in truth, she would attract many suitors. Without legitimate children, would Lord Dayne not be interested in the wellbeing of his illegitimate daughter all the way in the North? He might want Daenerys back in Dorne once he hears of her beauty and good health. I will write to Lord Dayne. He has a right to be informed about his natural daughter.

Noticing his stare, Daenerys toddled over to him. She giggled as she pulled one of his long sleeves. Her eyes sparkled as she laughed. Hearing her giggle, Jon and Robb walked up to them, the latter a little more unsteady on his feet. The boys both took turns pulling his woolly sleeves with great interest. Luwin could not help but smile at them indulgently. He knew Lord and Lady Stark wanted naught more than to return to Winterfell to see the children.

They would be surprised in the subtle change in Jon's behaviour. He was grave still, but less so. At times his dark eyes were fixated to the fireplace, but he would play with Robb and Daenerys more. It was good for a child to interact with other children his age – very healthy indeed.

Luwin quietly examined the heir of Winterfell. Robb was the perfect product of his parents' union. Half-Stark and half-Dayne. He had Lord Eddard Stark's dark hair and the purple eyes of his mother. No Stark had purple eyes before, but it was expected now after Lord Eddard wedded Ashara Dayne, who was said to be one of the most alluringly attractive women of her day. Purple eyes would now be a trait in Lord Stark's future descendants.

Reluctantly, Luwin pulled himself away from the nursery. He had ravens and messages to attend to as well as to check on Waymar and Domeric. As he turned to leave, a sparkle caught his eye. He slowly glanced around and made his way to Daenerys's bed. Nestled on top of her pillow was a pendant of the three-headed red dragon of House Targaryen.

Curious, Luwin picked it up. By the looks of it, it was old…most likely one of a dozen heirlooms from House Targaryen. Perhaps this pendant was given down to House Dayne over the centuries. Princess Daenerys Targaryen was married to the Prince of Dorne; one of her descendants may have wedded a Dayne. If that was not the case, there was Lady Dyanna Dayne who was married to Maekar I Targaryen before he became king.

Why would the pendant appear at Winterfell?

As if on their own accord, pieces clicked together in Luwin's mind. He shut his eyes. He did not want to believe it yet it was so…so obvious! Despite Lord Stark's word of honour that Daenerys Sand was his wife's bastard niece, they were all lies. There was no doubt Daenerys was a Targaryen. It was a clever story Eddard Stark invented – very clever indeed. However, Luwin was concerned. How long will the lords believe it?

It is not my concern, Luwin told himself, tucking the pendant into one of his pockets to examine later. Lord Stark did not tell me of Daenerys's true identity for her own protection. For the sake of the child, I too will not say a word. Once Lord Stark returns, I will show him the pendant and follow his orders from then. As for now, I will pretend I've not thought of Daenerys Sand as a Targaryen and will continue my duties as per usual.

He glanced out the window and saw neither of Lord Stark's wards in sight. Ser Rodrik must have took them to the smithy or armoury. Good. Luwin was in no mood to hear more arrogant words from Waymar Royce. By the time he reached the rookery, a raven was waiting for him. Luwin fed it a bit of meat and gave it water before turning his attention to the letter. It was from Lord Stark and was written in some haste.

Luwin groaned as he read the letter. Again, Lord Stark was delayed in the south at the behest of the king. However, this time Lord Stark was not trapped with the court at King's Landing – he was to be at Storm's End with Lady Stark and all the other nobles from the realm to celebrate Lord Stannis Baratheon and Lady Cersei Lannister's grand wedding. On a brighter note, Lord Stark had written, Ashara is again with child.


Thank you for all those name suggestions! They were very helpful :) Anyway, this chapter takes place in 286 AC in case you had forgotten and I thought it would be interesting to write it in Maester Luwin's perspective. Half way though, I kind of faced mini writer's block and I didn't know what to do. It wasn't the greatest chapter, but hopefully the next chapter will be better :)