CHAPTER 11: MEETINGS
Volantis
As they crossed the market, Aenar had overheard whispers about threats brewing in the most eastern part of Essos, in the Great Waste, near the Bleeding Sea.
He had an idea of what was there, but he did not want to believe these rumors, but he knew they could be true, especially considering the visions he'd seen in the Temple at Old Valyria. The gods had warned them of the coming enemy, that he would be reborn.
At the forge, he saw the smith hammering at the scalding steel, defining its shape. Aenar approached the man.
"Greetings sir, I've heard that you're one of few people that can forge an armor with a certain type of metal. Do those sayings ring true? "
"That depends on the armor in question. " The man replied, still focused on his work.
"Valyrian steel." He stopped deadpan on his hammerings. He looked up at him, giving him a quick inspection. He sets down his tool on the anvil, finally giving his full attention.
"Valyrian steel is laborious to forge. I'll need at least a couple of days. Of course, I could speed up the process if you're willing to fetch a higher price." The man said with crossed arms and a proud smug on his face.
"All shall be accommodated in due time," Aenar said simply, 'Now, back to the matter at hand. I need the armor to be flexible, a chainmail if under it, a head of the dragon on each shoulder and pattern the leg armor akin to dragonscales. Adorn the chainmail with gold color, but with valyrian steel material. The helmet shall remain simple, though I want it to be embellished with the three headed dragon. Make the plating black with the dragons red, and with blue rubies, you'll be embedding into the eyes of each dragon."
"That will certainly fetch a hefty sum." Before he could say anything else, Aenar dropped a fat sack of coins atop the anvil, along with a detailed print of his armor.
Conceded, the man measured his body. "I shall return when two days pass," the man bowed.
"Come, Arthur. I'm in need of a drink, I think it's high time I tell you what I plan to do."
They arrived at one of the local inns. Inside it was boisterous with noise coming from drunkards groping whores on their laps and whispers among hooded men. Aenar took his seat with his retinue across from him, "Innkeeper!" He hailed, "Send a partial supply of your food and a few barrels of wine to the port, it's the ship with yellow sail and skulls." He threw a hefty sack to the man, paying more than he needed to. The man bowed his head and waddled to his task.
A servant came by, poured them mugs of ale and wine. Aenar said to Arthur, "As soon as we return to the fort, I intend to accept the contract of Myr. We must rid the world of Khal Moro, the Dothraki constantly terrorize villages, and if they're cocky enough, they might even raid entire towns. They are fearless and rule with fear. I intend to make an example out of him. It would deepen our reputation amongst the free cities. That, is for certain." He raised the goblet to his lips and took a sip of wine.
Arthur nodded simply.
Aenar winced at the bitter taste of the wine, he sat the goblet down and continued his conversation, "Once, the war is won, the Company would want to disperse, to claim their lands. Then, we wouldn't have enough men to hold the peace amongst the people. But sure, I could split the lands give them rightfully back to the captains," he took another gulp, forcing the wine down his throat, "And that is where the Unsullied comes in. "
"You want to buy an army of slaves?" Arthur frowned.
"They are formidable warriors, an elite spear infantry, and they fight like the old Legions of Ghiscari." Arthur still unsure about the propose, had Aenar set his goblet down and leaning towards him with arms folded, "Arthur, when the war is over, I'll need a standing army, one that I can rely on even when the war is done. Every single lord of Westeros has an army to back themselves with, what happens when they decide to rise against me when they don't agree with me? If they don't like how he reign or if they crave for power? This army will seal in our fates as rulers of the Westerosi, a way to bare our fangs against any rebels who try. And what better army than the Unsullied. But I will offer the possibility, to those who want, to join the Targaryen forces, to prove their loyalty to the crown."
Arthur sat there, not a drop of wine had touched his lips, he said, "So, after you defeat Khal Moro, you intend to go to Astapor?"
Jon leaned back on his chair, "That is the plan, yes."
"If I may, your grace, how are we going to afford the army of Unsullied? Since we neither have the leverage or coin to purchase even a small squad of them."
Aenar waved at that, "Don't worry, I've thought of something. Now, with regards to the threat of the army of the dead in the North. Once I become king, I intend to have ways to signal the realms of men of their coming, should they pass the wall. Ravens are not enough, so I plan to have large bonfires atop watchtowers to signal nearby towns of their coming, and that they should prepare for a mass exodus, but also call al the men to war." And Arthur nodded.
They enjoyed the silence the came through amongst them, Arthur finally relaxing against his chair, drinking the wine, that to his chagrin had discovered its vile flavor combinations. Aenar pulled the goblet from his lips, placing it back down the dirtied table. Aenar swirled his fingers around the rim of the cup, "Arthur. You were my father's best friend, right?"
"Yes."
Aenar hesitated, as if ashamed to beseech the sensitive matter, but he did, "I never asked you, what was he like when he was young? Was my father good?"
"Good? He was one of the few best men I've come to know in my life. He loved to sing, he'd spend time with the peasants in the taverns and inns in the lower-class parts of Kings Landing. He never cared much for status, he looked past that and only care about the hearts of his people. Despite what people claim him being a formidable warrior, he never liked to shed blood. I asked him once if he'd prefer the book to the blade. You can probably guess his answer. I knighted him as well, you know?" Arthur painted a smug on his visage.
"What?" Aenar said flabbergasted, curiosity a sheen in his eyes.
"I know what you may think. That I was too young to knight him. But he wanted me to do it."
Aenar smiled pondering of a young Sword of the Morning, knighting what's to be the most powerful man in all of Westeros.
"And my mother?" Aenar asked, yearning for more.
"You'll have to ask her brother in that matter, I'm sure he'll want nothing more than to tell you about his beloved sister."
Aenar nodded after finishing the last few sips, "Let's head back to the ship."
Aenar returned to the smith and saw his completed armor on the stand. They helmet shone the symbol of the Targaryen emblem, shoulder guards displayed the pride of the dragonheads, and a twisting dragon on the chestplate. The eye sockets of each dragon flickered the blue brilliance of the rubies.
"Unparalleled! This is most certainly worth the wait!" Said Aenar as he inspects the armor with grandeur, he could not contain his excitement as he said, "Arthur help me put it on!"
He began to put the chain mail, which covered to his knees, only exposing his joints, flexing himself to guarantee its fitting. He then wore the imposing chestplate. It was unlike any armour he had ever worn, light and much more flexible.
"You're sure it'll protect me? It's almost like I'm wearing naug…" before he could finish his statement, the smith took a sharpened axe and gave a hard-hitting bash, Aenar staggered. He looked to Arthur who jumped at the sudden action, his knuckles white from gripping the handle of his sword at in its sheath. But he sighed in relief, at the realization.
The smith continued, "Impervious from any attack. You would need a lot of force to go through that chestplate, though I wouldn't say the same for the chainmail as it is slightly more vulnerable. But it should keep from any attacks from knives."
Then he adorned the shoulder guards and cuisses. As he slid on the greaves and tested his stride, he noted mentally of its phantom weight. As they finished the final straps of his armour, leaving only his helmet, Aenar wore them. The three dragons nested atop his head, the pride of House Targaryen. Aenar lifted his visor and saw a watery gleam in Arthur's eyes.
Aenar lifted his brow, "What's wrong, Arthur?"
"Last I saw your father, he was wearing a helmet just like that one," Arthur replied.
The smith interjected, "Some time ago, a young man with ashen hair came to me, the armour he requested to make was a similar one to this. In fact, now that I think of it, you remind me of him, but that was nigh decades ago." The man smiled wistfully.
"How is this possible?" Arthur frowned in question, "I never told you how it looked, and I certainly never seen you read the history of Westeros. How did you come by with this design?"
"In my dreams. An ashen-haired man wore this armour. He was going somewhere, though I never knew where. I would always wake before knowing."
"That was your father."
"Maybe it was him, or maybe it was another Targaryen. I never got the chance to see his face." Aenar turned to the smith, "Thank you." He cracked a smile.
He nodded with a smile and said, "It is my pleasure, I treat your armour as I treat the other lesser ones. If you are in need anymore armour or my services. You know where to find me."
"Come, Arthur. Let's get back to the ship. We'll set sail to the fort, come midday."
Pentos
During her journey to Myr, Rhaella had discovered her children to be located in Pentos. With that, she boarded the first ship there, with whatever coin she had left.
At her arrival, she began to ask around the common folk for the magister's house. It proved easy, seemingly almost everyone knew who he was. With her shawl covering her identity, she hears whispers of the Ashen haired siblings.
When she arrives at the Magister's palace, she starts wailing and banging the door.
"Magister Illyrio open this door now, or I'll have it torn down! Do you hear me?!"
It wasn't long until a servant unlocked the doors, which was met with a forceful push from Rhaella barging into the keep. Rhaella ignored the flourish of décor, only caring about her children, "WHERE ARE THEY!" she shouted. Then she stopped with widened eyes. She sees a man with amethyst eyes and Ashen hair similar to Rhaegar's, only he was lean, shorter and had the stature of Rhaegar before he took on swordplay.
"Mother?" He says in bewilderment.
"Viserys." Rhaella ran to embrace him.
"My son. After all this time." She tightened the hug and pecked his forehead. Though, she had noticed that he had not returned the sentiment. She pulled back and saw a cold expression, in fact. But he tries to hide it. It had reminded her of how Aerys would been to her during their wedding. Cold and distant. Focusing on another.
"Viserys, what is it?" She asked, worryingly.
"It's nothing, mother." He palms her cheek, "I'm glad to see you and I'm sure Daenerys will be too, but you've interrupted a business deal of great paramount." He says non-chalantly. Not like a son who has reunited with the woman who birthed him.
Rhaella stepped back, away from his embrace. She blinked to process what just happened. Finally deciding to say, "Fourteen damned years I tried looking for you, and you dismiss me like some common servant? Have I interrupted your important business dealings, son!?"
"Yes. This deal was part of my plan to claim my throne back, my birthright. And you, Mother, interrupted me." The cold air that just radiated through her body, made her shiver.
So, it's like that? Your throne? My son is a bloody imbecile.
Rhaella rolled her eyes and looked away from him, not wanting to turn her stomach at his presence, "Where is Daenerys?"
"In her room. The king's council is no place for women."
"Whatever, just take me to her." She says all remorse for Viserys, gone in an instant.
"Servant! Escort my mother to my sister's chambers." A servant stepped out and bowed, bringing Rhaella to the second floor of the manse.
Walking through the corridors that led to the room where her daughter was supposed to be. The echoes that rang through hallways had enlightened her. She's hopeful of her, to be more like her first son. Kind and gentle. It seems she's taken after his singing too. She smiled at the lost memory.
Eyes, blue as the sea and the sky
Water flows, water flows.
Heart burning like a fire in the night
Gently as she goes.
"Lady Daenery's quarters, my lady" the servant gestured into her daughter's room. "She always sings this song when she is on the balcony.
Lalalalalalalala
La lala, La lala
Lalalalalalalala
Gently as she goes.
Daenerys was humming the melodious song, as she looked over the balcony, brushing her silver-golden hair.
Knocking, the servant intruded her hymn, "My lady? You have a visitor."
"Come in!" replied a girl's voice. Her heart burned at the gentle voice.
When she opened the door, she saw her. The beautiful girl, the one who taken from her, the one she had longed to see again. The violet eyes, pale skin, Rhaegar's smile. Rhaella held her heart, as if afraid it was going to burst.
"Do you know who I am, Daenerys?" She asked softly. Her trained smile had faltered. She looked up at Rhaella's hair, and liquid pooled around her eyelids.
A stray tear had fallen down her cheek, and more threatened to come as she ran toward her hearty embrace. "Mother," she exclaimed on her breast. She wailed, hugging her tightly she thought she might've suffocated. But welcomed the gesture, for she too hugged her daughter with ferocity.
"Mother, I thought you were gone, and it was all my fault," Daenerys said, sniffing.
"Shh, my daughter, I'm here alive and well and I promise I will never leave you alone." And Rhaella started kissing her all over the face and drying her tears, smoothing her palm over her cheek.
"I can't believe how much you've grown up. I remember when I first held you in my arms. How small you were and now," she exhaled in exuberance, "look how much you've grown. You've become more beautiful than I could ever imagine. Even more beautiful than I was." Her tear-stained face broke into a wide smile. Their hands now interlinked through their fingers. Rhaella unclasped one hand and traced her unkempt hair. She frowned at its untidiness.
"Does no one care for your hair?" She says in concern.
Daenerys looks down at her feet, "Viserys says the servants, don't have to take care of a girl like me."
Rhaella scoffed, she pulled her daughter's chin up to face her, "Then I'll do it, and let Viserys come to me and complain."
Her eyes widened, "Don't challenge him, mother." She warned.
"Are you lying again, now to our mother, little sister?" Rhaella hears Viserys' voice from the door behind her.
Rhaella turned, release her grasp from her daughter, but hid her frame from Viserys, "Is it true?"
"Of course!"
"So, she isn't lying." Viserys was taken aback by the sudden aggression, "Why then?" Rhaella asked firmly.
"Because the servants need to serve their king, not his snotty sis…" Rhaella had enough, she slapped Viserys before he could finish. "Well, I just struck the king! Did my hand fall off my arm?" She bellowed. "Well? Say something, your highness. Are you going to punish your mother for the insolent act against her son!?" Visery's held the red imprinted mark of her hand, looking like he was about to cry. Before she could see any tears form in his eyes, he walks briskly out of the room.
"Viserys!" She called.
He stopped by the frame of the door, "I came to tell you that dinner is ready. Go take a bath, both of you, in the big tub. You smell like sows. "
"Viserys!" She only heard the heels of his shoe, as he paced himself away from the room.
Rhaella turned to her daughter who stood there wide eyed, "Come, daughter. Let us bath and talk and tell me everything." She held her daughters' hand and called the servant to prepare the bath for them.
"You shouldn't have done that. He would punish me and maybe even you too." Her daughter said timidly.
"Not with me around, sweetling. And believe me, I had to deal with someone much worse than your brother." She assured.
After stripping off their dresses and entering the big tub, she dismissed the remaining servants. Not wanting any ears near them listening. The water was scalding hot, if they were common women, they would have burned their skin off. But they were not common folk, they were dragons. And dragons endure the heat.
Her daughter was shy, her back was stiff, and arms covered her chest in embarrassment, Rhaella tried to coax her, "Come daughter, don't be shy. Lean your back against me and relax. Tell me everything. " Rhaella said, unfastening her knotted hair. She massaged her shoulders, back, and temple luring her into a state of laze.
As Daenerys told everything that had happened to them, about the assassins, and the constant feeling of danger, how they had to beg for coin everyday to fill their stomachs and how her son kept blaming her for their state. Her daughter started sobbing again, Rhaella calmed her by hugging her vulnerable form.
"He said that if I wasn't born late I would've married Rhaegar, so he wouldn't marry the Dornish princess or the ran away with the Stark one," she said as she weeped, "I'm sorry mother, it's all my fault."
"Shh, sweetling. None of what happened to our house was your fault. You had no control over your birth, don't let your brother blame you for something you had no control over," Rhaella convinced, stroking her damp hair and kissing her temple. "Your father is the only one to blame, for our house's demise. No one else, do you hear me, sweet pea?" Her daughter nodded, though tears were still falling painting trails on her cheeks.
"Before Illyrio found us, Viserys told me that Lys' brothel wanted to offer him a fortune for me. A virgin Valyrian Princess. He said that he refused the offer at the time. But he keeps reminding him of his mistake, he said that he would sell me if they ever gave the offer. He said he would've already sat on the Iron Throne if he had sold me the first time." Her daughter's energy stammered, defeated almost.
Rhaella felt her blood boil by the words of her son. She could not believe the nerve of her son to even think of peddling her daughter.
"I will never ever, in the span of my life, let him sell you. This I promise you. Your brother acts like no king, the last Targaryen king worthy of the throne died on the Trident. He is not our king, daughter. I shall protect you with my life and love you with all my heart. "Then turning Daenerys' face, she added, "If they want to hurt you, or even your brother despite his delusions of grandeur, they'll have to go through me. Hell or highwater." Rhaella said with pride in her breast.
Daenerys smiled, and turning completely towards her, in a lotus position, she hugs her tight. Rhaella hugged back, a silent vow.
After a while, Rhaella said, "Come, daughter. We shall dine with our 'king'." She says sarcastically.
After drying, she took her daughter by the hand and walked to the dining room where they were going to have dinner. Tonight, and all the other nights she will sleep with her daughter. It doesn't matter what Viserys says, she would not go back against her vows to her daughter.
Winterfell
The entourage were all gathered in the courtyard near the gates of Winterfell. The Stark family lined themselves to be the first to greet the King, as news was brought forth that the royal convoy was nearing the outskirts of Wintertown.
Two days ago, Benjen and his family arrived for the feast. Ned was always eager to see his brother, after being months and maybe even years apart, he would never give up the chances of patting his little brother again. Benjen said he saw a hooded little girl with a dark grey and white direwolf sneak into Robb's ship before they had left, but before he could hail the crewmembers, the ship had already weighed its anchor and set its sail. For that, he sent a Raven and has yet to receive a reply.
Cat nudged him with an elbow, "You haven't told me how you were going to deal with the king, what are you going to say to him?"
He gripped the back of her hand, rubbing slow circles around it, "Don't worry about that. I've prepared ways to talk to him."
"And if he should insist? "
"I'll refuse."
Cat let's out an uncomfortable sigh, seemingly not satisfied with his answer. She changes the subject, "About Sansa's to-be betrothed."
"What about the prince?" Ned asked.
"I've not heard a many great things about the boy. Quite the opposite, really." There was a bitterness in her voice.
"What have you heard?"
"I heard from the kitchen maids that hail from the south, that he abuses even the smallest rodents, keeps them caged. Starve them. Worse ones were about a whore, though even thinking about it makes a turn in my stomach. But that's beside the point, rumors or not, they had to originate from something. And I wouldn't want to bet our dear Sansa to find the vile personality of the boy the hard way."
He nodded, "very well then, I shall call off the betrothal. Though you may want to speak with Sansa. I have a feeling that she'll get upset over, her canceled betrothal." Cat squeezed his hand and nodded in appreciation.
At last, the royal retinue began trickling in, the Baratheon and Lannister guard, followed by the Kingsguard that surrounded the front and back of the carriage housing the queen.
And finally, the one they had all been waiting in dank cold morning, King Robert Baratheon, the former warrior, Demon of the Trident, now stuped low with his sagging bulge of a gut from his constant drinks of wine, and the unkempt hair laced with grey strands. Followed by the prince, Joffrey Baratheon. An arrogant visage of disgust planted across his face. Behind the Crown Prince, Orys, an image of his father warrior body when he was fostered in the Eyrie
At the presence of the king, everyone kneeled as he hopped off his steed. Robert waved his hand for everyone to stand. The King went through the Starks, showering them with compliments feeding their pride. He hugged Robert, and after exchanging pleasantries, he had wanted a word with Ned in private. As expected.
"Your son is of age to become Lord of Winterfell in your stead, I need you by my side in that Vipers nest." Said Robert.
"Robb is merely a boy. He can't take on the responsibility overnight, Robert. I certainly struggled when I first took over Winterfell."
"And look where it has brought you." Robert retorted
Ned ignored the comment, "And besides, you know what happened to Brandon and Lyanna. Us Starks don't fare well in the South." He said, hoping the reminder of his false beloved will convince him from dragging Ned to Kings Landing.
"But this time there are no Targaryens."
"True, though the Lannisters still cloud my decision. I don't trust them." Ned said, as he remembered the butchered corpse of Elia Martell and her babe. The honoured Kingsguard Ser Jaime Lannister sitting on the throne after slaughtering the man he swore to protect.
When they arrived to Lyanna's statue, Robert said, "Why did you have to bury here in this dark place? You should have put on a hill, where the sun shone the brightest."
"She was my sister, a Stark. Her place is here."
"No, her place was next to me. I loved her and that bastard took her away from me." He says with fury.
"You were in love with her beauty, not her, Robert. And if it ever came that she lived and you treated her like you did with your queen, she would have ran to the far east regions of Essos."
Robert laughed and then turned to the statue and said, "I sometimes dreamt of killing him on that field."
"It's done, your grace. The Targaryens are all dead," said Ned, looking at the floor, with a firm voice.
"No, not all of them. Rhaella Targaryen is alive. I've already sent the assassins."
Alive. That was good news.
"Let's go and celebrate. I'll have to leave soon, since you don't want to be my hand, but your daughter will come with us."
"Your grace..."
"No. You owe me that."
Ned sighed and nodded and headed towards the exit of the crypt.
Sansa was walking with Lady through Winterfell's courtyard and saw that Prince Joffrey was coming towards her. She didn't like him at all, but if her father forced her to marry him she had to accept him.
"My Lady, come with me," said Joffrey, taking her by the hand and leading her to the Godswood.
"My father told me the news," Joffrey said once he got to his destination. "You'll come with us and be my wife," he said, starting to take off his tunic.
"Prince, what are you doing?"
"Don't you see, I'm gonna fuck you."
"No, you can't."
"Yes, I can. I'm your future husband and a prince. I can do what I want. Now lie down."
"No!"
He slapped her and she fell to the ground. Then he began to lift her dress up. She began to cry, to beg, but he tore her clothes and began to pull down her pants.
Please, she said crying. Suddenly he felt that he was no longer above her and saw that someone was pulling him away by throwing him to the ground. He was Prince Orys.
"You have lost your mind, Joffrey."
"What the hell do you want? As if you had never done it before."
"I never did that to my future bride. She is the daughter of the Warden of the North and your future bride, idiot. How can you treat her like that!? Get that ass out of here before I make your whole face violet."
"It doesn't end here, you little bitch" and she saw that Orys punched him so hard, that he broke his nose.
After Joffrey had left, Orys approached her and asked, "Are you all right, my lady?"
She nodded, and he took off his cape and put it on her shoulders. Then taking her in his arms, he carries her away from the Godswood.
Ned was on the balcony talking to Robert and suddenly he saw that Prince Joffrey was coming out of the Godswood with a bloody nose.
"Damn boy. He must have had another fight with his brother."
Ned smiled but when he saw Prince Orys coming from Godswood with his daughter, Sansa, in his arms, he immediately rushed to her.
"What has happened?"
Orys without looking at Ned, told his father "Joffrey tried to rape her, because he said that being betrothed, he can do anything he wants.
"That damn boy."
Ned took his daughter and said to Robert in a fairly menacing voice, "You can stay until the end of the feast. That gives you two days. Then I want the prince out of the North. And if he comes back, his head will end up on a spike."
"You dare to threaten the royal family? Robert how can you allow this" Ned hears the voice of the queen holding the prince's bastard's hand.
"I'm not threatening anyone. I'm just giving you a warning. Maybe your dear son should ask his father what happens to rapists, your grace." Ned bowed and left without saying another word.
The Next day, after Robert, the Stark, and her little lion, Joffrey had gone hunting. She and Jaime went to the abandoned tower to have sex.
"How could you tell him to do that, Cersi?"
"I didn't think he would actually do that. I just told him that when he marries her, he can do whatever he wants."
"And you want him to be king? Do you really think you can control him?"
"Yes. He does what I tell him to do. And so our son will be king of the Seven Kingdoms."
Then she starts kissing him and stripping him. While Jaime was fucking her from behind, she saw Brandon stark looking at them from the window.
"Stop!" She told Jaime.
And he immediately ran to grab the baby.
"Are you crazy, boy? Climbing on such a high tower."
"He saw us!"
"How old are you, boy?"
"Seven."
"He saw us."
"You've already said that," then looking at her, he said, "The things we do for love," and pushed the boy down the tower.
"What the hell did you do?" Cersi said running towards the window to look down.
"I've resolved the problem. No one will now know what he saw."
"What if he's still alive?"
It's not. Nobody survives from that height. Let's go back to fuck."
"No! We have to leave." And she dressed up and left.
Golden Company fort
Robb and his party were getting closer to the fort.
"Wow! He has a big army. And a big fort. It's almost like a small town."
Robb smiled and I touch her cheek. When he got to the gate, he saw guards approaching, "Alt! Who are you!"
"My name is Robb Stark. I'm here to see your commander, Arthur Dayne."
"He's not here."
"Is there anyone we can talk to?"
He turned to the one who was with him and whispered something in his ear. Then turning toward him he said, "Yes. But only you."
Robb nodded and got off the horse. "Arya I want you to stay here with the guards and the direwolves."
And she nodded with a worried expression "Be careful, Robb."
He gives her a smile. "Protect my sister," He said to his guards.
Entering the Fort, Robb looked around. He was impressed by all this and looking to the left of the fort, he saw that there were war elephants. Magnificent from afar and who knows how they were from close up. As he crossed the streets of the fort he saw that many men were training in formations he had not yet seen.
"It's thanks to our young Commander."
"I thought Arthur Dayne was your commander?"
"He is. But slowly he's leaving the commando to his successor, who even at such a young age, has a gift for strategy and command."
"May I ask what his name is?"
"That's not for me to say."
As he approached the center of the fort, he saw that there were two men and a woman waiting for him.
"Who are you?" asked the Knight with the blonde hair.
"I'm Robb Stark and I'm here to see your young commander."
"Arthur Dayne is not very young."
"I'm not talking about Arthur Dayne, but about the man who calls himself Jon Snow."
The man, after looking at the other two said, "Come."
"Not before my men and my sister have entered. We've made a long journey."
The man nodded "Guard. Let them in." The man nodded "Guards".
After a while, Robb saw Arya running towards him with the direwolves behind her.
" Come" and they headed to the room where, Robb assumes, it was the council room. In the middle, there was a large table, with a large map of Essos and Westeros in the middle.
After sitting down and getting a drink, the woman said, "What is business do you have with Jon?"
"I came to meet him," Robb responded, and pointing to the white direwolf, continued, "and to bring him a gift. "
"Then you also know his real name."
Robb nodded.
"I'm Ashara Dayne, this is Torrhen Snow and Falco Ethenaine, the vice-commander of the Golden Company."
"It's a pleasure to meet you. Where is my cousin?"
"Volantis. For business. But he is already coming back" responded the Knight.
Robb nodded.
"Aenar you're back," she said, and then, looking toward Caraxes, add, "I see that you have a new friend and a new armor."
He was taken aback by that. Ashara never used his real name in the presence of strangers.
"I see that we have guests. I can ask you..." but before he finished he saw a little girl running towards him and jumping into his arms, to embrace him.
"And who would you be," asked Aenar with a smile.
I'm your cousin Arya Stark" she responded. Then pointing toward Caraxes she asked, "Is that a dragon?"
"Yes. His name is Caraxes. And he's special."
"Can I touch him?" She asked with a smile.
"I don't know if he gets touched by anyone other than Targaryen, but you can try."
She approached him and Caraxes looked at her curiously then towards him and eventually when she stretched out her hand to touch him he left her.
She giggled, then he heard Ashara "So, we leave you alone, so you can get to know each other better. And she Torrhen and Falco came out of the room.
"You must be Robb then," said Aenar, extending her hand.
"Yes. It's a pleasure to meet you.
You know you look a lot like our father, your uncle, Ned Stark. Your eyes are apart. And Arya looks like your mother. But he couldn't call her Lyanna, otherwise, she would always cry.
Aenar lent and looking toward her cousin wanted to imagine that she was the same as a child, same adventurous spirit.
"Whatever you want her to call you. Aenar, king Aenar or your grace?"
"Aenar enough."
Then she saw Arya arrive with in her hand a white pup of wolf.
"This is yours. It's a direwolf."
He took it and immediately felt a connection with him, the same one you feel with Caraxes before going to Valyria.
"He's beautiful."
"He's quiet, fast and always sneaks up on you. What do you want to call him?
Considering what you told me, what better name than Ghost.
"Ghost. I like it. And this one is mine. Her name is Nymerya, and that one" pointing toward a little smoke grey fur direwolf, with yellow eyes, "is Greywind."
Aenar putting Ghost on the ground saw him run towards Caraxes, and start to sniff him.
"They are bounding," said Robb. "So your grace what is your plan?"
Aenar became serious and replied. "Take the throne and prepare the realm of men to face the great war."
"What Great War?"
"The White Walkers."
"They are only a myth, Aenar."
"No." And Aenar began to tell him about the blue-eyed shadows he had seen. Then he got up from his chair and went towards the map, and said. "When I win the war for the throne I intend to create signal towers from the wall to the coast of Dorne. So the kingdoms will know when the threat has come. "
Robb standing up, nodded and said, "But you'll have to prove that these creatures exist. You know, some time ago we executed a deserter of the Night's Watch. He said he had seen the White Walkers."
Aenar sighed. So they were real. "But first I have to form my army to buy ships and fight a war here. We are still mercenaries. I'm going to accept a contract with Myr."
"Then I will fight with you."
Aenar smiled "Want to fight under my command? "
"Yes. I want to test myself in a real battle. After all, I'll have to be ready by the time you get back."
"So, tell me about the North" and Robb begins to tell about his house and all the pranks he made as a kid.