Well, here we go again folks! This chapter was fighting me more than slightly, but I managed to get it out and on time! Let's just hope that I can keep this pace going!

Again, huge shout out to my beta reader and brainstorm partner Tellemicus Sundace. The help has been invaluable so far. And another huge thank you to everyone who has favorited, alerted or reviewed this story so far. Your support is what keeps me going! So if you feel so inclined to leave a review, please do! They really do help me get my mojo going and get the next chapters rolling on.

Lastly, I do not own Disney, nor am I Lucas or Martin; so I have no ownership of A Song of Fire and Ice, Game of Thrones or Star Wars. This is purely for fun with no profit being made. And with that out of the way, let's get to the chapter! Stay safe out there everyone!


Chapter 14

The morning after healing the young Lady Shireen, Nox woke just before the sun rose above the horizon as he was accustomed to doing. Getting up from the bed, Nox went through his morning routine of stretching and meditating as he tried to work out the kinks that the mattress he'd slept on had put in his back. 'Honestly, how much of a penny pincher is Stannis? I think my bed on the fucking Sea Wolf is more comfortable. Force only knows what kind of condition Talisa's and Jon's rooms are in if this is what he gave me to use," he thought as he pulled himself out of his meditation just in time for a servant to knock on his door.

"Um, excess me, milord Sorcerer," a tentative female voice came from outside his room. "I, um, the head cook wasn't sure what you would like to have to break your fast, milord. So, umm-"

"Come in and leave whatever you have brought on the desk," Nox called out with his back towards the door as he took a breath to ready himself to enter another trance. "Then leave."

He could hear the door open slightly, followed by the quick shuffling of feet towards his desk. The sound of a heavy tray hitting the wood later and the servant was all but running out of his room, stuttering apologies and thanks one after another. 'Honestly,' Nox thought with a tired sigh. 'One would think I'm either a god or a devil given how some of these people see me.'

Taking another steadying breath, Nox let himself fall into the darkness of his mind as he dived headfirst into the Force. At first, he could only sense the keep of Dragonstone and the surrounding lands, and there honestly wasn't much there of note. Expanding his senses, he reached across the bay towards King's Landing. But as was always the case, the largest city of Westeros was a muddled mess. Though given what he was used too, calling a settlement of half a million souls could hardly even count as a city. But without ever having been there and with no real shining Force sensitives in the city, it was difficult to truly differentiate one presence from the next.

Leaving King's Landing behind, he let his senses wander throughout the 'southern' kingdoms in search of any potential Force sensitive individuals. But, just like every other time he'd searched, his efforts were in vain. Sure, there were a few Force sensitives in the rest of Westeros, some that might even warrant his attention. But in terms of sheer power level, none of them could even come close to comparing to the Stark children. Hells, he doubted any of them would even last a full day in Korriban before they ended up being food for kor'slugs.

Abandoning the south, he moved his attention North. But as he did, he could feel his physical body frown. He could still easily locate Robb, Arya, Bran, Ned and to a lesser extent Sansa and Rickon. He could even sense Nyra despite her lacking a significant Force sensitivity, though that was seemingly changing for some reason. But, no, what truly had him frowning was the fact that it was almost like a fog had settled in over the North. A fog that while not completely obscuring his vision, it was making it harder to see anything. And the further North he went, the thicker the fog became. Was it possible that this…fog…had always been there? And the fact that he was in the North was the reason it was so easy to penetrate in the past? No. That couldn't be it. If it was, then the Force vision he'd received on his first night in Winterfell wouldn't had been as clear as it was…and that was saying something seeing as how he was still trying to decipher just what he'd seen even years later.

Just as he was about to pull back into himself, he felt it. A secondary presence. One he'd never encountered before. One that was unique. But just as he was about to try and confront the presence, it was gone. Disappearing into the fog that covered the North. A fog which intensified as the presence passed through. 'Ah, interesting… Now I know that this fog on my vision is not a natural occurrence, but rather done at the will of someone or something. And now that I know that for certain, I can combat it.'

Pulling back into his physical form, Nox rolled his neck and got to his feet just in time as he felt his Apprentice just about to knock on his door. "Come in Jon," he called out, using the Force to open the door while walking over to the desk and picking up the piece of freshly cooked bread and a thick chunk of cheese.

Stepping in, his Apprentice lowered his head. "Master."

Taking a bite, he motioned towards his Apprentice. "Have you eaten yet?"

"Yes Master," Jon nodded.

"Good. And where is Talisa this morning?"

"She's checking on Lady Shireen right now, Master."

"Excellent," Nox nodded, finishing off the bread and cheese and downing the cup of water in a single go. "I trust that you managed to sense it from Shireen last night while we were healing her?"

There wasn't any need for Nox to elaborate further as Jon nodded. "Yes, Master. Lady Shireen, she's strong in the Force. And she was the one that sent that…disturbance that we felt out at sea."

"Aye she was and aye she is." Grabbing his overcoat that was on the back of the chair in the room, he swung it over his shoulders and motioned for Jon to follow him. "We will be testing Shireen to gauge her potential after Talisa is done examining her. However, even if she shows true promise, she will not be beginning her training just yet due to her father's wishes to have her remain here on Dragonstone until she recovers. And we have idled far too long and must return North. I want you to watch the test carefully, Jon. For you'll more than likely be performing this in the future as we discover more Force sensitive individuals in the realm."

"Aye, my Master," his Apprentice nodded, falling into step behind him as the two made their way out of his room and towards the upper levels of the keep where the Lord's family were housed.

Arriving on the topmost level, Nox didn't even hesitate as he bypassed the few guards that were standing in the hall and entered Shireen's room. The change in the young girl from the previous night was as clear as night from day. Not only did she physically look healthy, but her presence in the Force was far stronger than the night prior. And just as Jon had said, Talisa had beat the two of them in and was currently running a finger along the young girl's jawline. But she wasn't alone. There were three others in the room along with her. The Maester and Stannis he recognized, but the middle-aged woman he did not. Though given her manner of dress and the fact that she was standing beside Stannis, he could only assume that she was the man's wife. 'Force…Ice queen doesn't even begin to describe that woman.'

"—important that you rest," Talisa explained to the young lady. "You went through quite the ordeal and your body needs to recover even if it may not look or even feel like it right now. And it is very important that you take one spoonful of this medicine twice a day. Once when you wake up and once just before you go to sleep."

He could sense the young girl was paying as close as attention as she could to her elder, but the moment the two of them walked fully into the room her attention was broken as she all put lunged off the bed and sprinted towards the two of them. Nox barely had a moment to brace himself before his legs were enveloped by the arms of the small girl and her head was buried into his chest. "You came! I – I called for you and – and I didn't know if you would come, but—but you came!"

Her ramblings would've made Nox blink had he still the ability to do so. 'Interesting. She purposefully called out to me. Or perhaps not. Maybe she could've merely wanted me to be here to try and heal her.'

"Shireen, enough. Mind your manners young lady."

Feeling a spike of fear and remorse, the young girl slowly removed her arms from around his legs. "Yes, mother."

Shooting the girl's mother a harsh glance to silence her, Nox squatted down so that the two could be face to face. "Tell me, young one. How did you know to call out to me?"

He could feel her anxiety build, which led her to hesitate. Not wanting to waste anymore time than they already had, Nox laid a hand on her shoulder and used the Force to calm and relax the girl. The moment he did, he was surprised once more as he felt her stiffen and fight back for a moment. But she was still young, and he had decades of harsh experience on her, so it was little more than a trifle matter to sooth her defenses and calm the girl down. "You don't have anything to fear from me or anyone else, young Shireen. You don't have to hide who you are anymore."

Shakily nodding, Shireen launched into her tale as best she could for her age. "Father told me stories about you. About how you defeated the…Greyjoys so easily when I was born. I…I dreamed I could be like you! And Patches told me such wonderful stories of magic! It was so…wonderful! So…So, one day, I couldn't reach my dolly and…and I really, really wanted it. And then…And then I had it in my hands. Then father told me how you could, um…see people without seeing. So, I…I wondered if I could see you without seeing you. Then…Then I got sick and…and I wanted your help. I – I cried out for you for days. And then – And then you were here! Does…Does that mean I have magic too? Please? Please, do I have magic like you? I want to be special too!"

"You are special, young one," Nox smiled, rubbing the top of her hair. "As for whether or not your special like myself or Jon here, well, let's test that."

Guiding her back to her bed, Nox purposefully sat her so that her back was facing towards her parents, Jon, and Talisa. Ideally, none of them save Jon would be in the room while this was happening. But as Stannis could potentially be a future ally, despite his distasteful near Jedi-like temperament, Nox did not want to alienate him. At least, not yet. Once she was seated, Nox pulled a stool over and sat down in front of her. "Now, Shireen. I want you to see without seeing. To hear without hearing. To know without knowing. Focus on me and only on me. Take in everything you can see, hear, smell, and feel. Know everything there is to know about me no matter how seemingly insignificant. Can you do that?"

The young girl frowned in concentration. "Yes."

"Good." Focusing on a single thought, he sent out a powerful projection in his mind. "Now, I'm thinking of something and holding it out for you to 'see'. What is it?"

Biting down on her lower lip, Shireen stared hard at him. It was faint, but he could feel a slight touching on his mind. "A…A ship!"

"Very good," he nodded, putting the ship away before pulling another thought to the forefront of his mind while weakening the projection slightly. "Now, what am I thinking about?"

"Um, it's round and…a shield! A shield with a stag!"

Nodding his approval, Nox dismissed the shield, brought forth another thought, and further weakened the projection. For the next ten minutes, this process continued with Shireen frowning harder and harder as they went while he weakened the projection with each correct answer she gave. "Very good," Nox said after she had correctly guessed the tenth straight object he'd thought of.

Holding out his hand, Nox summoned a small wooden ball the size of his hand from across the room and kept it suspended in the air between the two of them. "Now, put aside your notions of what is and what is not possible." He lectured, floating the ball towards her. "It is but a ball, and you have the Force to command. Use it. Do not try. Do. Push the ball back towards me."

Nodding, Shireen held out her hand, palm out towards the ball floating between the two of them. He could feel the ball twitch in his grasp, and then it was only because of his reflexes through the Force that he was able to duck in time to dodge the ball as it shot towards him as if it'd been shot out of a gauss cannon, stopping only when it struck the stone wall and shattered into a hundred pieces. "Well," he chuckled, shaking his head at the awestruck look on Shireen's face, as well as the bewildered thoughts and emotions coming from her parents. "I believe that settles it. You are quite strong in the Force, young one."

Shireen, who'd been a world away as she stared at the ruined ball on the floor, snapped her attention back to him. "You…You can teach me to be like you?"

"That I can, youngling," Nox nodded, leaning back and enjoying the girl's eagerness, as well as the not-so-subtle discomfort that was emanating from both of her parents. "But not yet. I cannot unfortunately afford to stay here in order to train you as I am needed back North. And my Apprentice is nowhere near ready to start taking on students of his own yet. I can give you a few little exercises to prepare yourself with, but your formal training will have to wait until your father believes you are ready to head North."

The girl's excitement died almost immediately as she seemed to shrink in on herself. Apparently, she was of the mindset that she would not be coming North anytime soon. Not that he was about to let that happen. Even if he had to 'persuade' the Lord of Dragonstone with the slightest nudges from the Force, Shireen would be coming North within a year or two at the most. It would a crime against his very nature as a Sith to let such a potentially powerful acolyte rot away into nothingness.

"The Sorcerer and I have already discussed your training, daughter," Stannis intoned, stepping across the room so that he was standing beside her. "It is not…proper for one as young as you to foster. But in a year or two you will be of proper age. And should I find your behavior acceptable then…I will agree to your fostering in Winterfell should Lord Stark allow it."

Shireen beamed up at her father, her aura radiating happiness as she eagerly bobbed her head. "Yes, father! I promise I'll be good!"

"Excellent," Nox commented, drawing her attention back to himself. "Now then, let us give you a few exercises to hold you over until you head North to begin your formal training."

The rest of the morning and the better part of the midday hours were spent with Nox giving a very abridged lesson to Shireen. He had her write down both of the Force codes and gave a very quick overview of both, along with meditation techniques and what it meant to use the light and dark sides of the Force. Given her House words, despite her father's temperament, he had a feeling that once she was able to tap into her 'fury', that she would indeed be a force to be reckoned with. The lesson was nowhere near what he would have wanted but, amazingly enough, the girl seemed to be a quick study, just like Arya and Jon had been when they had both first started their training under him.

After feeling he'd done all that he could with the limited time that he had available to him, Nox bid his future acolyte and her parents farewell and made his way back down to the docks with Jon as Talisa had already left during his lessons since she wanted time to speak with the Maester about the finer points of Shireen's recovery process. And just before he and Jon were to head back to the Sea Wolf, he was stopped by Gerion Lannister and Davos Seaworth.

"Gentlemen," he greeted the two of them. "What can I do for you both?"

The two men shared a brief look. "I wanted to thank you sorcerer," Davos began, "I have children of my own, a whole brew of them. But that girl, I love her like she is my own daughter. So, I wanted to take the chance to thank ya before you went on your way."

"It was no trouble, Davos," Nox replied. "But your thanks is appreciated."

"And, as for myself, Nox, well, this is where we part ways," The Lannister said, holding out his hand. "Stannis is sending Ser Davos here back to King's Landing with a message for King Robert, and I'll be going with him. Figure it'd be a lot shorter of a trip back to the Westerlands from King's Landing than it would be from White Harbor. And I just wanted to say thank you, Nox. You saved me in more ways than one and – and you've given me quite a few things to think about as well. Even if my brother is too much of an ass to formally recognize it, House Lannister and myself owe you a debt, Sorcerer. And a Lannister always pays his debts."

Taking the offered hand, Nox gave the man a sly grin. "A word to the wise, Lannister: never say you are indebted to a Sith. We have a habit of abusing every advantage given to us."

"I'll keep that in mind, Sorcerer," Gerion laughed good naturedly as he let go of his hand.

"I was of the mind that you would be leaving us here Gerion and was going to ask a favor. But as you've brought up the matter of debts, well, I believe I have a task for you that will allow you to start paying off what is owed."

Gerion didn't even hesitate. "Name it. As long as it doesn't hurt myself or my House, I will see that it is done."

"Wonderful," Nox smiled, patting the man on the shoulder. "I have something for you to deliver to the King. I have no doubt that once word spreads of our success in Valyria, a few opportunistic fools will attempt to claim that which is not theirs by saying that I have not paid proper tribute. I want to head this off before they can become an annoyance."

"Smart," Gerion nodded. "Show me what it is you want delivered, and I will deliver it into the hands of the King personally."


Idly tapping his foot beneath the heavy ornate table within the Small Council Chambers, King Robert Baratheon; First of his Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Demon of the Trident, and more titles that he honestly didn't give a shit about could do little more than groan tiredly as he wondered for the tenth, or perhaps twentieth, time that morning how his Hand and all but adoptive father Jon Arryn managed to hoodwink him into actually attending a meeting of the Small Council. Honestly, this entire meeting was nothing more than counting coppers! The only interesting piece of news was weeks old, and that was that while Stannis was on Dragonstone to inspect the state of the Royal Fleet, his daughter had contracted greyscale. But since then, nothing. There'd been no word of the Sorcerer for months. Varys's 'little birds' could not find any clue as to the lost Targaryens' location in Essos. And there were no wars going on in the Seven Kingdoms despite the few minor land disputes. 'I'd much rather be back in my chambers, buried balls deep in one of Baelish's new whores while downing a pitcher of wine. But, no, I must be here listening to my little shite of a brother drone on and on about some minor dispute in the Stormlands while Baelish keeps going over his books and pulling gold coins from his ass. Hehe, with the rate Baelish is going, he's going to steal Tywin's reputation for shitting gold! Ha!'

"—ended up breaking three bones in the man's body and left him a bleeding pulp on the ground. Now, House Wagstaff has demanded retribution in the form of gold for the insult dealt to Ser Humfrey by his intended, Brie-"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Renly," Robert growled, slamming his fist on the table and ending his brothers drabble. "If that poor excuse for a fucking knight can't even beat a woman in single combat then he doesn't fucking deserve to pay to fuck a woman, let alone get paid to fuck a woman."

Shifting in his seat, Renly pulled at the collar of his shirt to fan himself. "Yes, well, House Wagstaff might be only a minor house. But Ser Humfrey is the castellan of Grandview under House Grandison. And Lord Grandison fought and died for you during the Battle of the Trident. We do not wish to alienate those who have served us so well in the past by simply—"

"The issue is with House Wagstaff, not Grandison," Robert growled, his annoyance only growing. "There will be no payment to House Wagstaff for injuries sustained just because Humfrey couldn't best a woman. The fucker deserved it for all we know. If they can't accept that, then you will go down to Grandview and explain that in person. Am I understood, Renly?"

The problem with Renly, one of the many that is, was that the fool was constantly trying to please everyone. Someone is insulted by someone else, side with those who have aided you in the past and then make amends with the ones you sided against. If a fool tripped over his own feet walking up the stairs, he'd stop a whole procession to make sure the fool didn't break a nail. If a whore stains her dress, he'd buy her a new one. It was getting to the point of being idiotic.

"Yes, brother," Renly mumbled, his eyes downcast. "I'll write the raven today. And if I don't hear from them soon, my squire and I will head out to Grandview to oversee the issue personally."

For a moment, Robert was fighting the urge to simply bash his brother's head against the table. But he was saved from further rambling as Ser Aerys Oakheart opened the door to the small chambers and made his way inside. The man was young but fine with a blade, though he was still just a green boy who had yet to see any real battle outside of a tourney or hunting down the odd bandit roaming around the Crownlands. "Your grace, please forgive the intrusion. But Ser Davos Seaworth and – and Lord Gerion Lannister are requesting to meet with yourself and the Small Council."

That got Robert's attention. He'd come to know Davos quite well over the years. But the fact that his brother's personal ass kisser was in King's Landing without his ever-dour brother present was odd. And if that wasn't odd enough, then there was also Gerion Lannister, a man that the entire realm had written off as dead after he disappeared off on some halfcocked idea about raiding Valyria years ago.

"Let them in," Robert ordered, sitting up straighter at the prospect of having something interesting happen during one of these damned meetings. "Then, go find the fucking Kingslayer and Cersei, and tell them to get their asses to the Small Council Chambers immediately."

"Yes, your grace," Oakheart bowed before backpaddling out of the chamber quickly and allowing two men to enter in his place.

The two men couldn't have been more different if one tried. Davos could only be described as old and ordinary with graying brown hair and brown eyes while wearing a simple wool mantle. The other man however was a Lannister if Robert had ever seen one. Golden hair, even if it was thin and slightly unkept, and green eyes on a face that was far too pretty to be on a man. 'Fucking Lannister goldened-haired green-eyed shits. Not even my own fucking children are free from their look.'

"Yer grace," Davos greeted them with a deep bow. "Milords."

"Your grace, my Lords," the Lannister followed, bowing as well but not quite as deep as Davos.

Leaning back in his seat, Robert fixed the supposed Lannister with a gaze that had once made lesser men shit themselves. "So, you're Gerion Lannister. Heard you died in Valyria. Either word is wrong, or you're looking mighty healthy for a dead man."

"Well, I believe we'll have to go with the word being wrong, your grace, because I am fairly certain I'm not dead. Though, not for a lack of trying on my part," Gerion answered, his head held high but with a strange tone to his voice.

Before Robert could ask him anything further, the doors to the Small Council chambers were thrown open, revealing his 'loving' queen and her brother, the Kingslayer. Both of whom stopped dead in their tracks as they saw the man claiming to their long-lost uncle standing before them. The Kingslayer seemed to the first to overcome his surprise as he took a step forward, noticeably placing himself between the supposed Lannister and Cersei. "Uncle Gerion?"

"What? You expect a fucking ghost or something, kid?" the Lannister chuckled, though neither his queen nor her brother seemed to find his jest in good taste. "Fine, proof then. When you two were ten, you took up the habit of jumping from one of the mining tunnels into the sunset sea despite your father's explicit orders not to do so. And when he found out he tanned your hide red Jamie and locked Cersei in her room for nearly a full moon. Of course, that didn't stop either of you as the next night I caught the two of you sneaking back to your rooms just before sunrise after doing the exact same thing."

Any doubts as to his identity were put to rest as Jamie's usual cocky grin returned and he held out a hand. "Good to see you again, Uncle. I can't say how glad I am to know that the rumors of your death were just that."

"Aye, I as well," Gerion nodded, taking the offered hand. "Beloved niece, you are even more radiant now than when I saw you last. Queendom and motherhood have indeed been kind to you."

Jutting out her chin, Cersei held her head high as she regarded her uncle like he was a piece of cheap meat rather than a long lost relative. "Indeed, they have, Uncle. I am still more than your niece, I am your queen and-"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, come off it, Cersei, and sit your ass down if you want to stay," Robert growled, cutting his wife off. Gods, what did he ever do to be cursed with such a coldhearted bitch? It was nothing short of a miracle that his cock didn't freeze off in her the few times they coupled to produce their children.

Cersei of course was none too pleased with him interrupting her posturing, but he was past the point of giving a shit about her wants by this point and she knew it. With nary a word, she took the empty seat usually reserved for his brother while the Kingslayer took up position behind her.

"So," Robert began once more, picking up his nearby wine glass. "You were just about to tell us how you managed to survive Valyria. Get to it."

"Not much to tell, honestly," Gerion sighed. "My crew set off to find a way into the Valyrian Freehold and after more time than I care to admit, we finally found a viable option in the form of a river that we believed would lead us directly to the heart of Valyria. The only problem was…we were obviously not the first to try this as there were dozens, if not hundreds, of half sunken or completely sunken ships in the river. One of which caught our underbelly and beached us. After that, things became a bit of a blur as it's next to impossible to tell the passing of time in that land, but I was forced to watch and listen as the men I brought with me were either torn to pieces and feasted upon by the hell spawn creatures that call that shithole home. Or I was forced to watch as battle-hardened men went to sleep fine only to wake up the next morning with the mind of a child. Eventually, I was the only one left alive, gods only know why. But, in the end, I was saved by none other than the Sorcerer Nox and his expedition he'd organized from the North."

Now he really had Robert's attention, as well as the attention of everyone else in the room. "So, you got shipwrecked, stranded, lost all your men, and then the sorcerer came around and saved your ass. Is that what you're telling us?"

"In short, yes," Gerion sighed.

"Then the sorcerer was also not successful in finding Valyria then?" Cersei cut in, her tone just as scathing as he'd come to expect from her.

"He was successful, alright. The Sorcerer, with the help of his Apprentice and those he brought with him, succeeded where everyone else has failed for hundreds of years. They not only reached the heart of Valyria, but they were able to plunder one of the vaults and make off with several skiff loads of a mixture of Valyrian steel, gold, books, artifacts, jewels and jewelry." Gerion explained, shocking everyone in the room. "Though the cost was heavy. Over half of those that came with him died. And the only reason that number wasn't higher was because the Sorcerer and his Apprentice pushed themselves to the point of collapse in order to ensure that those who survived made it back alive."

Resting his elbows on the table, Robert didn't hide the grin that came upon him. The fact that the Sorcerer went in and fucked the ghosts of Valyria up the ass and ran off with their valuables was just too good. The only thing that would've made it better would've been if Robert had been there with him to see him fuck over those dragon cunts. "You keep mentioning this 'Apprentice'," Jon stated, breaking Robert out of his thoughts of what could have been. "What Apprentice? And why does the title apparently hold significance to the Sorcerer enough to bestow it upon an individual?"

"His Apprentice is Lord Stark's bastard son, Jon Snow," Gerion answered, drawing another bark of laughter from Robert. "From what I understand of his terminology, an Apprentice would be akin to a Squire training to become a full-fledged knight of the Realm. Though, from what I've seen of the boy, he's already above and beyond almost any knight in the Realm."

"Hmph, a likely tale," his queen snorted, shaking her head. "The man must have no standards to raise a mere bastard to such an honorable position."

Growling, he fixed his wife with a look promising retribution. "Have a care how you speak, woman. That bastard is the son of the most honorable man in the Seven Kingdoms. And he'd already proven himself a man well before Nox raised him up to be his Apprentice."

Cersei's eyes hardened as she glared pure hatred at him, but he honestly didn't care by this point. He'd seen that look from her often enough now to simply ignore it.

"Believe me, your grace," the returned Lannister interjected softly. "Nox did not lower his standards at all when he appointed the bastard as his Apprentice. While I didn't see the act for myself, I verified the story with the daughter of Lady Mormont, the son and heir of Lord Jon Umber, the son of Lord Rodrik Karstark, and Prince Oberyn Martell that the boy killed a dragon easily the size of Balerion the Black Dread. On foot. If that isn't a deed worthy of an uplifting of station, then I'm afraid, dear niece, that you have impossible standards."

Whatever response his wife had was lost as the wine that Robert had been drinking flew from his mouth and covered her. "What the fuck?" he cursed, wiping at his mouth even as the Kingslayer started trying to dry his sister off. "What the fuck did you just say?"

"The boy killed a dragon," Gerion repeated, his face and tone completely serious. "On foot."

"I-I-Impossible!" Pycelle stuttered, rising from his seat partially before collapsing and coughing. "Such – ack – Such an act is impossible! Even if there were dragons still around! Which there are not! The Citadel confirmed that all the dragons died out decades ago an-"

"And the Citadel is the end-all be-all of truth in the Realm and the greater world, correct?" Gerion scoffed. "Pycelle, just like everyone in this room, save for good old Davos here, I've been educated by the Maesters since I was but a boy. I even spent a few months in the Citadel studying in preparation for my voyage to Valyria. But do you know what my time in Valyria and with Nox has taught me, Pycelle? It's that you Maesters are either holding back on us, or you lot truly don't know your ass from a hole in the ground."

Pycelle's face turned an impressive shade of red, but any argument was cut off as Varys spoke up for the first time. "You said that you have the word of several heirs and a second son as well as the word of the Prince of Dorne, did you not? I must ask, how is it that Prince Oberyn came to be part of a Northern expedition to a long-lost land? The last song my little birds sung to me of the wayward Prince was that he was making his way through the Free Cities with his paramour and eldest bastard daughter."

As much as it stung to admit, the Spider had a point. What was even more galling was that Robert had completely overlooked the fact that Prince-fucking-Oberyn-fucking-Martell was with the Sorcerer. Sure, relations between the North and Dorne had improved to the point where the two kingdoms were cordial with one another. But, surely, they had not progressed to the point where they could so easily gain the services of the Red Viper.

"Not much to tell, honestly," Gerion shrugged. "Apparently, Prince Oberyn was in Volantis at the same time as the Sorcerer and was asking questions about him, trying to figure out his past if I had to guess. Nox found out and confronted the man. And the next day the Red Viper, his paramour, and his daughter were all officially welcomed into the expedition. And by the time they were left in Dorne, I would dare say that the Sorcerer and Prince Oberyn had become friends with one another."

Frowning, Robert scratched at his beard. In hindsight, he could agree that the killing of Elia was a mistake. Not the dragonspawn, though. Those bastards deserved to die just for having dragon's blood in their veins. But Elia…? Had the battle lust and elation of revenge not been coursing through him and clouding his mind, he might have acted differently. Hell, the punch from Ned had almost knocked a lick of sense back into him. But what sense the blow brought him was quickly destroyed when Ned turned his back on him and walked away. That was perhaps the best and worst day of his life. The only day that was even worse was when Ned returned with his bastard boy and his dead sister. And while he trusted Ned to keep an eye on the sorcerer, the fact that he was getting friendly with perhaps the most outspoken of those who still refused to acknowledge his right as King was slightly troubling.

"And just how deep is their friendship, Lord Lannister?" Jon Arryn asked, giving Robert a pointed look, which said that he knew exactly where Robert's mind currently was. After all, the fate of Elia Martel was a frequent point of contention between the two of them. "The tastes of the Prince of Dorne, as well as his frequent traveling partner, Lady Ellaria Sand, are well known. Do you believe they might have been successful in swaying him?"

Gerion didn't even hesitate. "Not even in the slightest. Though, not for a lack of trying. We did stay a few days in Sunspear while the Sea Wolf was being repaired after encountering a large group of pirates along the Stepstones. And I know that the Sorcerer and the Northerners were invited to a feast hosted by the Martells. But, given our recent history, I decided that I would not tempt fate and decided to stay on board during our stay. I didn't feel like testing the patience of the Martells by expecting them to accept a Lannister in their midst and not do something about it."

Robert could accept the logic, but just as he was about to comment further, his mind caught up with the more interesting aspect of what the Lannister had just said. "Pirates? How many?"

"Two galleons and four longboats," the lost Lannister replied. "Their plan was a decent one, but between the sheer power of the Sea Wolf, and the combined might of the Sorcerer, his Apprentice, and the Lady Asha Greyjoy, they didn't stand a chance. Hell, those three took out the two galleons on their own with only a slight bit of help from a few archers on the Sea Wolf."

Now he had Robert's full attention. "Sit the fuck down, Lannister, and tell me everything."

Taking one of the empty seats, the lost Lannister proceeded to tell Robert and the rest of the Small Council everything he'd seen during the brief skirmish against the pirates. Hearing about how the sorcerer had picked up a galleon and flipped it over had unsettled him more than he cared to admit. Sure, he saw the sorcerer breach the walls of the Pyke with relative ease. But still, it seemed like every time he heard about the man, he had to keep adjusting just how powerful he thought he was. Then there were the actions of Ned's bastard boy and the Greyjoy lass. Hearing that the two had pretty much handled an entire galleon on their own seemed a bit of a stretch and he could tell that Gerion was leaving something out, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out just what it might be. Then there were the actions taken by Nox with the prisoners.

"Wait," Robert called out, raising his hand to stop the man's tale. "You mean to tell me that the sorcerer beheaded nearly fifty men with a single swipe of his sword? And not only that, but he managed to complete such a feat before the first man could even hit the fucking deck?"

Scratching the back of his neck, the lost Lannister visibly grimaced at seeming to recall what had happened. "Well, to be fair, he did throw his weapon, but yes. And then he had all the heads loaded up onto one of the surviving longboats and tasked the five pirates he'd pulled out from those to be executed to deliver the heads to wherever their hideaway was located."

Slapping his hand down on the table, Robert threw his head back and laughed. "Haha! The more I hear of this sorcerer, the more and more I start to like him despite his unfortunate look!"

Those around the table each wore different expressions, but the one that caught his eye the most was the almost calculating look in his queen's eyes. A look that he'd come to realize meant that she was trying to plot something idiotic. "And what of the plunder of Valyria, Uncle?" his queen asked. "What will be done with it? Surely, it will not all be heading to the North without appropriate tribute being given to the crown?"

A distinctive snort came from the edge of the room, drawing everyone's attention to the man it came from. "Pardon, yer grace," Davos murmured, his eyes low. "But I believe the sorcerer has more than paid his tribute with the healin of the young Lady Shireen from her fight against greyscale."

Robert focused in on his brother's righthand man. His brother had returned to Dragonstone some time ago to deal with some dispute or other, but his return had been delayed once his daughter had contracted greyscale. Robert had figured the girl was done for. But if anyone could cure an incurable disease, it would be him. "The sorcerer…cured her greyscale?"

"Aye, yer grace," Davos nodded. "He and a foreign woman, name of Lady Talisa Maegyr, they came up with a way to heal greyscale during the voyage. Lady Shireen is the, I believe fifth, person they've cured so far. And all five were fully cured within a moon's turn."

Chuckling, Robert turned his attention towards Pycelle, who was starting to turn a most interesting shade of red. As was usual, whenever they got word that the sorcerer had unveiled some sort of new 'invention' of his, or whatever the hell he called it. "So, Pycelle. In the decade that the sorcerer has been in service to Ned, he has managed to do the following; develop a type of glass to rival Myrish glass, create a larger more efficient bloomery, establish new trade routes throughout the North and into Essos, led an expedition into Valyria discovering gods only knows how much lost knowledge, and now he's gone and created a cure for a disease you Maesters have deemed 'incurable'. Tell me, what have you Maesters done in the past decade? And then tell me why the fuck the crown should continue providing coin to the fucking Citadel and not the Winterfell College?" Not bothering to give the old man a chance to stammer out a response, Robert turned back to Davos. "If Shireen is cured, then where the fuck is my brother? He should be back here. Not still on Dragonstone."

Davos shifted in place as he reached into his nearly worn out doublet and pulled out a small scroll. "Forgive me, yer grace, but Lord Stannis wished to remain with his daughter until she made a full recovery as suggested by the sorcerer. But he gave me this note to give to you, yer grace."

Motioning for Jon to take the scroll, his Hand unrolled the missive from this brother and read it over. "It is as Ser Davos says," Jon nodded, rolling up the scroll. "Despite there being no outward appearance of her previous affliction, the young Lady Shireen is still on medicine and bed rest under isolation until she has shown no return symptoms for a set period of time. And Stannis wishes to remain with her until that time has come to pass. And until then…he has appointed Ser Davos to act as Master of Ships in his stead until he returns."

Baelish's quill skittered across his parchment and his beloved queen looked like she'd just eaten a whole bushel of lemons. But the best look was the one on Davos who suddenly looked like he wanted to flee as fast as he could. "Haha! My brother didn't tell you that part, did he, Davos? Didn't think the cold bastard had it in him to play such a joke on anyone! Ha!" Robert laughed as he slapped his thigh. If all Small Council meetings were as interesting as this one was shaping up to be, then perhaps he would have to start attending them more often in the future. This was by far the most fun he'd had since the Greyjoy Rebellion. "Sit your ass down, Davos. If I must be here, then so do you."

"Aye, yer grace," Davos muttered, awkwardly taking his seat and looking thoroughly out of place.

With Davos seated, conversation returned with Baelish returning them to where they had been. "While a cure for greyscale is indeed a great boon, it is not coin. And if they were as successful as Lord Lannister says-"

"They were. And more."

"—then perhaps I will have to alter the expected Northern kingdom's tax contributions for this year to account for their unexpected increase in wealth."

Most of his good mood leaving him, Robert leaned forward and fixed the little weasel with a look that could melt stone. "Careful with your words, Baelish. Ned and the North have always paid their due."

"But the sorcerer is not of the North. At least not originally." Cersei cut in, making Robert wonder just why he hadn't kicked the woman out of the council chambers yet. "How can we know that he won't keep the gold for himself and try to fool Lord Stark?"

"Because he's not that type of man. At least from what I've seen. Hells, he's already planned out appropriate compensation and tribute, your grace." Gerion Lannister spoke up once more. "The highborn Lords and Ladies that dared to venture into Valyria with him were all given their pick from Valyrian Steel they took. And the smallfolk were all paid accordingly with gold or jewels."

"And what were you given, Uncle?" Cersei all but demanded, making Robert groan.

"Given the fact that he saved my life and I was unable to offer anything to the expedition, nothing," Gerion answered, before quickly following it up. "However, he did let me keep that which I had already found."

Standing, Gerion made a move towards the sword on his hip. A move which of course prompted the Kingsguard in the room to reach for their own hilts before Robert waved them off. Pulling the sword from its sheath, Robert could see the distinctive Valyrian steel markings on the blade in Gerion's hand. But it wasn't just the blade that had his attention but rather the pummel. Which was shaped into a golden lion's head.

"By the Seven," the Kingslayer gasped, his eyes wide like a coming of age boy seeing his first set of tits. "Is that…?!"

"Brightroar? Yes, it is, nephew." Gerion nodded, putting the sword away. "I managed to find King Tommen's lost ship. Unfortunately, there was nothing to recover save for this sword. And it's recovery almost makes the hell I went through worth it."

Robert might despise just about everything there is or ever was about the dragon lords, but even he would readily admit that the sister-fucking-cunts knew how to make good weapons. 'And perhaps getting the Lannister Ancestral Sword back will get Tywin off my fucking back for a few moons at least.'

"I trust that you will be leaving the sword here with Jamie, will you not, Uncle?" Cersei asked, her eyes staring at the now sheathed sword with undisguised longing. "And, in time perhaps, my son the Crowned Prince will be able to wie—"

"I will not," Gerion replied with no small amount of heat as he took his seat once more. "Jamie is no longer a Lannister. He gave that up when he joined the Kingsguard. And as for your son, he is a Baratheon, not a Lannister dear niece. He has no right to House Lannister's ancestral sword. I will be taking the blade back with me to Casterly Rock and presenting it to my brother, your father. It will be for him to determine the succession of the sword and the head of House Lannister. And besides, Jamie doesn't need this sword. Because, despite what some here may think, the sorcerer is very aware of politics and proper etiquette. And while he has continued North after healing Lady Baratheon, he has tasked me with the delivery of his tribute to the royal family. With your leave, your grace?"

Grinning behind his heavy beard, Robert motioned for Gerion to do whatever the hell he wanted, to which the Lost Lannister got up from his seat and left the Small Council chambers, only to return a moment later leading in two men in Baratheon colors who were carrying a long narrow box as long as a man. Getting up from his seat, Robert was almost giddy with excitement as he watched the two men set the long box down on the table and pry open the top.

Peering into the box, Robert felt his grin widen even further as he reached inside and pulled out a claymore that had black gemstones placed across the crossguard. It wasn't the first time he'd held a Valyrian steel sword. Hells, Ned had even let him handle Ice on more than one occasion. But even knowing the unique properties of Valyrian steel, he was still caught slightly off guard by the relative lack of weight to the blade. And while he was certainly more at home caving in men's chests with a war hammer, he wasn't above wielding a sword. Especially a Valyrian steel sword.

"The sorcerer felt that delivering a weapon worthy of a King would be a sufficient tribute," the Lannister went on as Robert drew the claymore out of the sheath to reveal the distinctive Valyrian steel patterns upon the naked steel. "But he also wanted to leave no doubt as to whether such a tribute was enough. So, he has also sent seven other longswords that are to be wielded by the Kingsguard and passed down from one member to the next. After all, the King of Westeros deserves only the best for his protection."

"His tribute is noted, and no further questions or demands will be made of him regarding his loot from Valyria," Robert declared, better to make things official and all that horse shit. "Well, Lannister, name it."

"Your grace?"

Putting the sword away, he motioned for the two Baratheon men to take the box away while he retook his seat, his new sword held firmly in his grasp. "You went and fucked the Valyrians in the ass and lived to tell about it, found your families ancestral sword, and now you've gone and delivered the sorcerer's tribute for him. Name your boon and I'll grant it."

"Your grace, I…Well, there is only one thing that I would ask you for. While I was in that hell, I…I made a promise to myself and to the gods. A promise that I want to fulfill but fear I will only be able to do so with your blessing, your grace."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Robert growled. "Stop kissing my ass like a two-copper whore and get on with it already!"

"Very well," Gerion sighed before straightening and looking Robert directly in the eye. "I wish for my daughter, Joy, to be legitimized in the eyes of the realm and the gods."

Of all the things Robert thought the man would ask for, this was perhaps the last. Hells, he wasn't even aware that the Lannister had a daughter, let a bastard child. "Done," Robert nodded, rising to his feet. The request was simple enough, even if some members on the Council were dead set against him legitimizing bastards. Plus, it had the added benefit of throwing a thorn into Tywin's side, something of which Robert took great delight in as he rarely got the occasion to do so. "Jon, write it up with all the titles and shit, and give it to me to sign. Let's go, Kingslayer, I want to test out this new sword…Dragonsbane. Yes, that's its name. Too bad I didn't have it to cleave that silver-haired fucker's head from his shoulders after I caved in his chest."


Sitting at the high table within the Merman's Court of New Castle, Ned Stark broke his fast with his family and Lord Manderly's family as they waited for news of the impending return of Nox and all those who went with him to Valyria. The only members of both family that were absent from the meal were his Lady Wife and Rickon, both of whom were still in Winterfell, and Wyman's second son Wendel, who had accompanied Nox on the voyage as the Captain of the Sea Wolf. Picking at the food on his plate, Ned took a single bite before setting his utensils aside. Honestly, the food in White Harbor was by far some of the best he'd ever had. But it was far too rich and often heavily soaked in butter or salt for his tastes. A sentiment that seemed to be shared by his children as four of them only lightly picked at their fast. The only one who didn't seem to mind was Theon, who had already cleaned a single plate completely and was working on putting more on.

In truth, while Wyman and his family were wonderful hosts for both himself and his family, Ned was starting to grow restless. The time that'd passed from Nox's raven while he was in Dorne till now had been both the fastest and slowest passage of time Ned could remember since the beginning of Robert's Rebellion. And with each passing day, his impatience for their return grew, especially with the news from the Wall that awaited them upon arriving at White Harbor several days ago. Lord Commander Mormont had informed them years ago that a former Black Brother by the name of Mance Rayder had turned his cloak and joined the Wildlings, but Ned had thought that that would be the end of any word of him. But that had not been the case. Mance had thrived beyond the Wall, and not in a way that was good news for the North.

It'd taken him years, but the former Brother of the Night's Watch had managed to unite almost all of the Wildlings north of the Wall under his banner, making him a 'King-Beyond-The-Wall'. Not a pleasant notion as memories of the last King-Beyond-The-Wall, Raymun Redbeard, still lingered in the minds of the people of the North. Especially in the minds of the Starks as, while the King-Beyond-The-Wall and his host were eventually killed nearly to the man at Long Lake, he did manage to behead William Stark, Ned's own great-grandfather, before he died. But despite their eventual defeat, the Wildings had managed to inflict a lot of death and pain upon the people of the North. And the fact that less than a century had passed before a new King-Beyond-The-Wall had risen was not a pleasant thought.

'Will my life forever be cursed to fight one battle after another?' Ned thought, his mind trailing back to the two wars that'd taken him from his home for years and cost him almost his entire family.

And while the news of the King-Beyond-The-Wall was indeed troubling, the second piece of news that came from the Night's Watch was equally as troubling. Apparently, nearly two dozen Black Brothers from the Shadow Tower, all men who chose the Black to escape the King's justice, had followed Mance's example and defected. Had they merely gone north of the Wall, that would've been one thing. But, no, they had taken it a step further and apparently helped to secret an entire warband of Wildlings across the Gorge using the Bridge of Skulls and into the North. And since they'd crossed weeks ago, there'd been no word of them by either the Mormonts or the Umbers. The only sign that they were still in the North was the fact that Commander of the Shadow Tower, Ser Denys Mallister, had reported that they had not tried to cross back to the Far North. It was unusual behavior to say the least. Usually whenever the Wildlings raided south, they would go for a settlement or two, and then retreat. But not this warband. No, this group crossed into the North without issue and then seemingly disappeared without a sign.

Word had been sent to the Dreadfort and Karhold, but neither Roose nor Rickard had sent back word yet as to whether or not the Wildings had attempted to raid their lands. Not even the newly formed Rangers could seem to find them. 'If no word is sent by the time we reach Winterfell, I fear I will have to ask Nox to accompany myself and my men out into the North to hunt them down in person. I don't want to take Nox away again, especially given he will have just returned and will have ample reason to stay behind. But, as much as I hate to admit it, finding and eliminating this warband will be far easier with him at my side rather than at Winterfell.'

Pushing thoughts of Wildings and war to the back of his mind, Ned picked up his fork and knife and began to carefully pick at the heavy food laid out before him. Hearing a slight giggling coming from his right, Ned cast a sidelong glance towards his eldest daughter. Sansa was currently sitting with her friend and companion Jayne Poole and the eldest granddaughter of Wyman, a beautiful young girl by the name of Wynafryd. The young woman was of the same age as his sons, Robb and Jon. And judging by the lighthearted looks on the girls faces and the quick glances Wynafryd was sending towards Robb, it wasn't difficult to guess what their current topic of conversation involved.

It wasn't a bad match. White Harbor was the largest city in the North and House Manderly had proven themselves to be a steadfast ally of House Stark for years. The girl was indeed pretty and would no doubt bloom into an even more beautiful woman in the next few years. But despite the logical part of his mind that said that such a match would without a doubt be the most beneficial, he could not force himself to make it official. The betrothal of his sister to Robert against her wishes was no doubt the primary reason why what happened had happened during the Tourney of Harrenhal. And as for him, while he had come to love Cat, it had not started out that way as duty had forced him to take the hand of his brother's intended. In so doing robbed him of the chance of being with the woman he loved. While he had indeed come to love Cat, she would still be second as shameful as it was to admit. And he knew that his marriage was not the norm. Not by far. As strong as he knew his children to be, he did not want them to suffer through the same pain as he and his sister due to being forced to be with someone against their will.

Without realizing his actions, Ned's hand shot out and grabbed a piece of food that had been sailing through the air towards its target. Feeling the wet porridge seeping through his fingers, he let out a tired sigh as he turned his sights towards his youngest daughter Arya, who was sitting with the younger granddaughter of Wyman, Wylla. The culprit wasn't hard to guess as, while both girls were staring at him with wide eyes, Arya was the one who was holding her spoon like a catapult that'd just thrown its load. Though once she saw her father's eyes on her, she quickly tried to pull the spoon down below the edge of the table.

"Arya!" Sansa gasped, figuring out that she had been the intended target while quickly looking over herself to see if any of the porridge had managed to get past Ned and hit her.

"What?" Arya asked, trying to seem innocent. Though the act failed quickly. "You're being silly and making funny faces. And it'd be rude to throw something at our hosts."

"Glad to see you at least remember some of your manners, Arya," he said quickly before Sansa could say anything. "But it is still rude to try and embarrass your sister in front of our hosts. Now, apologize."

Looking like she'd just eaten a whole bushel of lemons, Arya turned first to her sister and then to Wyman. "Sorry, Sansa. Apologies, Lord Manderly."

"No worries, my dear," Wyman laughed, his chins swaying as he did. "I find it quite refreshing to have so many youngsters at my table once more! Why, when I was young, it was not uncommon for myself and my siblings to play jokes on each other at every possible opportunity! Though, if I may say so, young Lady, it'd be best for yourself to do so out of the eyes of others. Far less of a chance of being caught that way."

Groaning, Ned finished wiping off his hand while his youngest daughter beamed and his eldest pouted. "Please don't give my daughter any more ideas, Wyman. Trust me, she needs no encouragement in that particular area."

"Apologies, Lord Stark," Wyman apologized, though judging by the tone he didn't really mean it. "And may I say, Lord Stark, that that was an impressive display. Did you by chance see what your daughter was about to do? Or is it perhaps true that this 'Force' that the sorcerer talks about is not limited to only your children?"

Setting his napkin down on the table, Ned frowned while trying to think of the best way to answer. In truth, there was very little he could purposefully do with the power of the Force, despite Nox's many lessons. Jon and Arya were, to use Nox's own words, prodigies and could use the Force in multiple ways without hardly any strain on themselves. And while Robb was not quite at the same level as those two, he was still no slouch and wasn't afraid to use his gifts in the open to help the denizens of Winterfell. Usually by helping to pick up objects that would take several grown men to carry.

Before he could answer, a guard wearing the livery of House Manderly rushed into the room. His face red and his breath coming out in short bursts. "My Lord Stark, Lord – Lord Manderly."

"Take a breath," Ned said, eyeing the clearly winded guard who looked like a strong gust of wind could knock him over. Either the man had run a great distance, or he had been neglecting his training. More than likely the first, given that he knew Wyman was the first of the Northern Lords to implement Nox's training regime for his guards outside of House Stark.

"Apologies, milord," the guard gasped, taking a moment to compose himself. "But the watch towers have sighted the Sea Wolf entering the White Knife. They will be passin by the Seal Rock soon."

All conversation ceased as the guard's words reached them. They were back. Finally. After over seven months, Nox and his expedition had returned to the North.

"Send out the ferries," Wyman ordered. "Have them guide the Sea Wolf to the inner harbor immediately."

"Yes milord, milord Stark," the guardsman replied, bowing to both before quickly retreating from the room.

"They're back!" Arya exclaimed, jumping up from her seat. "We need to—!"

"Patience, Arya," Ned warned, giving his daughter a look that stopped her from running out of New Castle and down to the harbor, which she was no doubt about to do. "It will still be some time before they are in the harbor. There is no rush to head down right now. Finish your food, all of you, and then we will head down to welcome them home."

Arya clearly wasn't happy, but she sat down and started to quickly scarf down her food. Though she wasn't the only one. Now knowing that the expedition force was almost home, the excitement in the room had grown greatly and everyone seemed to be in a hurry to finish their food so that they could head down to welcome them home. While Ned would be lying to say that he wasn't in a similar state, his excitement was tempered by a task that'd been looming over his head since before Nox had set out.

'It's past time that Jon and I had a long talk,' he thought, picking at his food once more. 'And I can only pray to the gods that he will understand once all is said and done.'


Standing upon the bow of the Sea Wolf and holding onto one of the rigging lines, Nox took in a deep breath as he enjoyed the sensation of the cool northern air filling his lungs. He'd always been more inclined towards the cold, not Hoth cold though he doubted anyone truly cared for that bucket of ice, and perhaps that'd been why he'd felt so inclined to make his new home in the North. Home. Such a simple word. Such a simple prospect. But in all of his years, no matter his advancements, he'd never had a place he called home. Sure, he had properties on Dromund Kass and Nar Shaddaa as well as his own personal chambers on Korriban, but those were just…places he'd rest his head. The only place he could truly consider home was his personal shuttle, the Fury.

Unfortunately for him, he never truly understood just why that small ship was more a home than anywhere else to him until it was too late. It was a home because it was perhaps the one place where he and Ashara could simply be together without the binds of the Sith or the Jedi or the war between the Republic and the Empire. And when she died, he lost his home. And he never thought that he'd find a new home. But that had all changed when he'd met the new woman that'd claimed a spot in his heart next to Ashara. Nyra, the woman who he helped raise from a mere servant to one of the most influential women in the North. She was his home now. He only regretted that it took him leaving her for months to truly realize that.

Letting go of the rigging line, Nox let his senses roll outwards as the city of White Harbor grew larger and larger while the excitement of the crew grew in equal proportions. He wasn't the only one anxious to return home, it seemed. 'I can sense her,' he thought with a smile as he sensed the woman who had turned this land into a new home for himself. But as he focused in on her, he felt something…different about her.

'Strange. What…What is this presence about her? I sense the Force within her, but how?' Now more anxious than ever to get off the ship, Nox waited near where the gangplank would be lowered while impatiently tapping his foot.

"Master?" Jon asked tentatively as he stepped up next to him. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," Nox bit back, just shy of snapping at his Apprentice. It would not do for him to lose himself just because he couldn't make heads or tails of what he was sensing from Nyra. "Just ready to get off this ship."

Jon didn't say anything further as the Sea Wolf pulled up near the docks to the sounds of a near deafening cheer coming from both the people on the ship and those on shore. Not even waiting for the ship to be fully tied off, Nox slid the gangplank off the ship and down to the dock with but a flick of the Force and started to descend the moment it touched down, leaving Jon to nearly run to try and catch up. By the time the two of them set foot down onto the stone dock, the ropes had just been thrown down from the ship and deckhands were busy trying to tie the massive ship off.

Setting a brisk pace, Nox completely ignored the crowd around him as he focused solely on the small gathering near the base of the pier. It seemed Ned had brought his entire family save for his youngest and his wife to greet them. A touch overkill, but nonetheless the gesture was appreciated. He could even sense that Robb and Arya had grown slightly, both physically and in the Force, since he'd left. Obviously, they'd taken his training regime to heart and had not been idle while he was away. Sansa was the same as always, a powerful Force-user in her own right who was purposefully stifling her powers. And Bran was still the same somewhat blank page to him.

As his attention shifted towards the one whom he'd been looking for the most, his steps slowed until his feet no longer seemed to be recognizing his brain commanding them to move. Nyra was, perhaps, even more radiant than when he'd left. And, oddly enough, she'd even developed a slight attunement to the Force. But neither was the reason why he'd slowed nor why he could sense something from her, even as far away as Dorne. No. The reason he stopped was the second Force-presence emanating from her. A presence focused under the noticeable swell of her midsection. 'By the Force…a…a child? My…My child?'

Mercifully, Stark did not seem interested in interacting with him once Nox was able to reaffirm control of his body to move towards Nyra. Or, even if he did, Nox didn't hear him as everything faded to nothingness, leaving only himself, Nyra, and their child growing in her womb. A child. The one thing he always wanted but never achieved.

"My Lord…Alim." Force, even her voice sounded sweeter to him now that he was before her.

He could sense her desperation for his approval in both her voice and presence. But for the life of him, he couldn't find the strength to respond. Raising his hand, he lightly pressed it against her wool dress that was stretched tight over the swelling life within her. Now with direct contact, he could truly sense the life within her. The life that was nearly fully formed and ready to enter the world. "My Lord, are you…pleased?"

"Beyond words, Nyra…my love. Beyond words." It was unbelievably corny, but it was the only thing he could think of to say. Thankfully, though, it appeared to be just the right thing as Nyra's back straightened, and her sense of joy shined like the sun.

"Thank the gods, Alim, I know you were unsure b—" That was about as far as she got as Nox pulled her into his arms and proceeded to kiss her with everything he had.

The crowd around them erupted into cheers and whistles, but he didn't care. He was reunited with the woman who'd claimed a spot in his heart where there had only been darkness for the longest time. And now, now she was about to bring a child—his child—into the world. Breaking the kiss, Nox let his forehead rest against hers as he took a moment to simply enjoy the sensation of just holding her once more in his arms.

"Well, I doubt that anyone will be able to outdo that return, my friend."

Pulling back, Nox turned his attention to Ned and his children. His friend was at the point where he was just shy of laughing while his children were all in similar yet dissimilar states. Robb was beaming like a fool with Jon right next to him. Sansa was sighing as hope, want, and the smallest amount of jealousy seeped from her. Arya had turned completely red and was pointedly looking elsewhere while muttering 'not in a thousand years'. And young Bran, who still a touch too young to fully comprehend just what was going on, was merely smiling and cheering with the crowd.

Clearing his throat, Nox pulled back from Nyra just enough to keep one arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders. "Lord Stark. Forgive the breach of etiquette but-"

"Nothing to forgive Nox," Ned laughed, "I completely understand. And going from experience, I doubt you'll be able to focus on anything else for the time being. So, why don't you and your lovely lady retreat back to the rooms Lord Manderly has prepared for you two in New Castle? We can meet up in the Merman's Court once you have regained enough of your wi—"

That was about as much as Nox was willing to listen to as he turned and swept Nyra up into a bridal carry. Letting out several lighthearted protests, Nox proceed to run as fast as his Force empowered legs could carry him through the crowd as the Northerners cheered and laughed while he passed them by in a blur of motion. His only thought being that he had been away from Nyra for far too long. 'Never again,' he swore as he listened to Nyra as she gave him directions to their rooms the moment, he entered New Castle. 'From here on out, wherever I go, she goes with me. I won't lose her like I lost Ashara.'

Time lost all meaning to Nox as he took his fill of Nyra, which she more than readily reciprocated with a vigor and hunger that frankly surprised even himself. Apparently, pregnancy had made his lover quite randy. Which suited him just fine as he had months of lust to sate. In the end, it was physical exhaustion on Nyra's part that drove the two of them to take a break in their activities. Which was why Nox found himself laying beside Nyra, without a stitch of clothing between them, with his hand resting on the child growing within her. "Have you thought of names, Nyra?"

"Aye," his lover said as she rested her hand over his own. "I thought of some. But I wanted to wait until you returned home before going too far. If a boy, I… Well, I was thinking of Edric, after my brother who died in the rebellion. And after Lord Stark as well."

"Edric is a good name," Nox agreed, feeling the life within her turn as something pressed against his hand.

"Aye, it is. Do you have a boy's name?"

Frowning, Nox thought for a moment. Honestly, the idea of a child had never truly registered in his mind, so to say that Nyra had managed to catch him completely off balance was an understatement. He didn't remember his father and he had no siblings. But there were a few men that he remembered fondly. Andronikos and Darth Marr near the top. But there was only one name at the top of his 'list'. The name of his first true friend, even if their relationship didn't start out that way. "Khem."

The pressure on his hand increased slightly. "After Khem Val? Your former servant and friend?"

"Aye," Nox nodded. "Despite our more than slightly rocky beginning, Khem Val was a true friend in the end. So, either Edric or Khem for a boy's name. For a girl, perhaps—?"

"Ashara."

The name stunned Nox to the point where he jumped slightly. "What?"

"There is no other option, Alim." Nyra said, her voice soft and full of warmth. "I know that I can never replace her in your heart, and I don't want too. She—She did something that I don't think I ever could. She pulled you out of the darkness enough to teach you how to love. And I…I don't want you to ever lose the thought of her."

Feeling a genuine smile come over him, he moved up the bed so that he could rest his head against her shoulder while still leaving his hand resting on her belly. What she'd just said had laid to rest an argument he'd been having within himself for months. He'd missed his chance with Ashara. And by the Force he would not miss his chance with Nyra. "Nyra, I know I haven't said it often enough but I…I do love you. You are my light. My warmth. Ashara may have opened my heart, but you pulled me out of my darkness and are now my source of return should I ever fade again."

"And I love you, Alim, my sorcerer."

Tightening his hold, he felt a bundle of nerves within him swell. 'This is ridiculous! After everything I've faced without flinching, I can't say the fucking words?' Pushing his nerves down as best her could, he took the plunge. "Nyra…I was going to ask you this the moment we returned and…oh fuck it. Nyra, will you join me…as my wife? From now until we are reunited within the Force?"

Her reaction was, well, unexpected. Pure unadulterated bliss erupted from her with the Force of a supernova as his very pregnant lover defied all senses of reality as she tackled him onto his back, straddling his hips with her own as she leaned over, pressing her swelling belly against his own, and started assaulting him with kisses across his face and neck. "By the gods, Alim! Yes! A thousand times yes!"

Holding her gently, he righted her face and pressed his lips to her own. 'If this…If this is what the light truly feels like, then…Force. Why do so many of the Sith deny this?' he thought as he felt a power within him bloom to life. A power born of desire to protect not only Nyra, but now also the youngling growing within her. Their youngling. But while Nox was content with the light kiss, his lover apparently had other ideas as her kiss grew in hunger as she shifted her hips expertly to ready both himself and her for another round.

"Don't think we are done just yet," Nyra chuckled before letting out a moan as she slid down onto him. "Lord Stark said to take our time…and we have quite a lot of lost time to make up for, Alim."


Twisting in his saddle in an attempt to relieve some of the ache, Jon Snow took a moment to gaze at the column of men, horses, and carriages that were following behind himself and those that were in the lead. The reunion in White Harbor had been everything that he'd hoped for and more. Arya had nearly tackled him in a hug the moment he stepped off the boat as Robb had knuckled his shoulder while Bran unleashed a seemingly never-ending barrage of questions about anything and everything that had happened since he'd left. Even Sansa seemed happy to see him as his sister, while able to keep her face passive, was unable to hide the excitement and joy within her. The best greeting though had come from Lord Stark. His father had calmly helped him back to his feet and embraced him before telling him that it was good to see him again and that he was glad his son had returned.

The acknowledgement had warmed Jon better than any fire ever could and he'd nearly broken down there on the docks. Of course, while Jon's reunion with his siblings was apparently entertaining, it paled in comparison to the welcome home that was awaiting his Master. For as long as he lived, he would never forget the completely shocked expression on his Master's face the moment he noticed that his lover was pregnant with his child. And that she would more than likely be giving birth soon after they returned to Winterfell. Hells, Jon never thought anything could ever surprise his Master. But, apparently, he'd been wrong.

After his Master's rather abrupt, and understandable, departure from the docks, his father and Lord Manderly had taken to overseeing to the return of the rest of the nobles that'd accompanied them and the unloading of all the valuables that they'd taken from Valyria. While most of the reunions were simplistic enough, there were two that stood out most of all in Jon's mind, though for completely opposite reasons. The introduction of Lady Talisa Maegyr, courtesy of Ser Wendel in Lord Nox's absence, had gone over surprisingly well. All his life, Jon had known that Northern folk were slow to accept outsiders. But ever since Lord Nox's arrival and with everything he'd done for them, that attitude had shifted slightly. And the fact that Ser Wendel had included the fact that she was an outstanding healer-in-training and had already help Master Nox in creating a cure for greyscale had done much to prove that she would not be a burden during her time in the North. However long that might be.

His siblings' reactions to Talisa had been amusing as well. Bran couldn't help but stare at her in confusion before bluntly asking her why her skin was darker than theirs. A question that had brought a sharp remand from Lord Stark, but thankfully Talisa didn't take offense and merely explained that due to her homeland and the constant sun and heat, her skin darkened to better protect herself. Sansa appeared to be just as curious as Bran was, though not of her skin, but rather of her home and of the fact that she was a recognized 'Lady' from a foreign land. Jon had no doubt that the moment Sansa managed to corner her, his sister would ask her every question ranging from traditions to fashion. Arya had been the most subdued for some strange reason and, even stranger still when she latched onto Jon's arm while greeting Talisa. Robb, though… Robb's reaction had been one that Jon was already waiting to use in the future. His half-brother had gone completely tongue-tied and red-faced when he'd tried to greet the slightly older girl. It would be good material to jibe and blackmail his brother with sometime in the future. He just hoped that no one told him about Jon's own attempt at talking to Princess Arianne for the first time.

But despite the rather heartwarming and amusing welcome homes', there had been one return that had been filled with heartache. Seeing Dacey, perhaps one of—if not the—strongest woman he'd ever met nearly collapse and breakdown after hearing about the poor fortunes of her family, mercifully in a private setting, had been devastating. She'd even gone as far as offering up her mace or her life in penance for her uncle's actions. But his father had proven himself a Lord to be admired and followed. He denied both of her offers. Stating that Jorah's—Jon just couldn't think of him as a Lord or a knight anymore—actions were his own and that Dacey held no need to make up for his mistakes.

The rest of that first day and night had been spent in celebration of their return, as well as a fair share of ogling at some of their loot and his lightsaber that'd been bestowed upon him by Lord Nox. Small Jon, Eddard Karstark, and Dacey all showed off their new Valyrian steel weapons with pride. And despite not having accompanied them to Valyria, Ser Wendel Manderly had also been gifted a Valyrian steel sword in recognition of his service. A sword which he promptly presented to his father, who proceeded to name it Mermaid's Pride. Predictably enough, all of Jon's siblings had wanted to hold the blade. Hells, even Sansa wanted a chance to hold it. Even though she quickly gave it back after taking only a single experimental swing, Jon could see the slight longing in her eyes when she beheld the weapon.

His Master and Lady Nyra hadn't made an appearance during the return feast, which under normal circumstances might seem like a slight, but given the sheer nature of the sorcerer and what he could do, no one wanted to take the matter up with him. But the next morning when the two did arrive during the breaking of their fast, Jon's father made a proclamation that brought a round of cheers and banging of cups. Upon their return to Winterfell and the night before Robb's name day celebration at the end of the Inventors Fair, Lord Stark would join Lord Nox and Lady Nyra as husband and wife before the weirwood tree within the godswood of Winterfell. Sansa had of course nearly swooned out of her seat as she started rambling about how romantic their story was. A sorcerer who comes to a foreign land and makes a name for himself while uplifting a mere serving girl to a position near enough to a highborn lady of the land.

And speaking of the fair, that had been something that had surprised not only Jon but Lord Nox as well amazingly enough. Robb clearly hadn't been idle while Jon had been away. While he was still not as good as Jon was with a blade, especially now that Jon wielded a lightsaber, Robb was certainly shaping up to be a Lord that could rival their father. All the Lords and Ladies of the North would be in attendance, as well as a few Lords from the Vale. The fair would last for a week and during that time the few students from the Winterfell College would present the Lords and Ladies with their discoveries and inventions hoping to garner interest in their findings. And it wasn't only the students from the Winterfell College that would be participating. There was an open invitation to all those of low birth as well to come and present anything that might better the North. And should whatever they present be worthwhile, they would be gifted with coin, boons, or even titles if it was warranted. It was quite ingenious, and even Lord Nox had praised the heir of Winterfell for coming up with the idea and organizing it.

After the meal was completed, they then set about the slow process of sorting everything that'd been taken from Valyria. Even after knowing about everything they'd taken, Jon was still amazed at the sheer amount of loot. It took nearly until sundown to fully unload all the valuables from the Sea Wolf and the galleon Asha had commandeered from the pirates. The presumably stolen loot on the galleon, while not nearly close in value to what was on the Sea Wolf, was certainly no small sum. And speaking of the galleon, Asha had petitioned Lord Stark for her to keep ownership of the ship, claiming she had fought for it and defeated the previous captain in single combat. While he hadn't denied her request, he had granted it either. Stating that he would make his decision after Robb's name day celebration that would be taking place after they returned to Winterfell. Upon the completion of which, Asha will have reached the age upon which King Robert had declared that she would be returned to the Iron Islands.

After a long day of unloading, loading, and sorting of the valuables, his Lord father declared that they would rest one more day before heading out the next morning for Winterfell. That had been nearly a week ago, and at the pace they were going, it would still be at least another week or more until they reached the ancient seat of House Stark. The wagons that carried the valuables, not to mention the carriages that were housing Jon's sisters, Lady Nyra, and the granddaughters of Lord Manderly playing a significant role in why it was taking so long for them to return. Not that Jon was necessarily complaining. While a not-so-small part of him was anxious to return to his home, another part didn't necessarily want too.

Out here he was the Apprentice to the Northern Sorcerer, a near-man who had won the favor of the Princess of Dorne, if even only for a short time. But once they reached Winterfell, he would once again become the bastard son of Lord Eddard Stark. A fact that Theon had unfortunately reminded him of several times, though whether he was doing it purposefully or not Jon wasn't sure.

"Are you telling me that even after visiting Braavos and Volantis, as well as actually entering a brothel in Volantis to meet the Red Viper, that you never once partook of a nice wet cunt, Snow?" Theon jibbed while he, Robb, and Jon rode ahead of the convoy by at least a quarter mile along with Dacey, Small Jon, Asha, and Eddard Karstark. "What's the matter Snow? Afraid to spread your seed around? Or is it that you prefer the sight of men instead of women?"

"Ha! Snow? Interested in men over women? Not a chance." Small Jon Umber laughed, coming to Jon's defense, which Jon was grateful for. "If anything, we inferior men need to be taking lessons from Snow here and the Sorcerer. Hells, both had women throwing themselves at them!"

Theon gave the heir to Last Hearth a look of disbelief. "Women were throwing themselves at Snow here? Pull the other one Umber."

"He's not lying, little brother," Asha laughed as well. "There was more than one woman after our pretty Snow's maidenhood, that's for sure."

"Name one." Theon demanded flatly.

"Obara Sand, daughter of Prince Oberyn Martell for one," Dacey replied calmly, completely ignoring the imploring look Jon was trying to give her to go no further. "He saved her life in Valyria and she rewarded him by trying to suck his tongue out. And then, lest we forget the most important one. Our not-so-little Snow here won the favor of Princess Arianne Martell herself and pretty much spent every waking moment in her company while we were in Dorne."

"Wait, the Princess of Dorne?" Robb gasped, turning in his saddle to look at him. "How in the name of the gods old and new did you manage to get her attention, Jon?"

"Oh, your brother here is quite the romantic, Robb," Dacey laughed before Jon could answer. "Some twit noble insulted the Princess while Jon was training in the yard and our noble Snow here just couldn't let that stand. So, he delivered a thrashing upon the man who was not only twice his age, but also a knight as well. Then the idiot went and pulled live steel on him, and Jon just about killed him. Probably would've if not for the Sorcerer arriving and shooting that lightning trick of his into the idiot that tried to attack Jon."

"Really?" Robb asked, raising a brow at Jon. "Well, well, isn't that interesting? I'm sure that Sansa would just love to hear about how you heroically defended a Princ-"

"Hey Robb, what's your thoughts on Talisa?" Jon countered quickly, saying the first thing that came to his head to shut his brother up without telling him to. "And Dacey, was there a raven waiting for you in White Harbor from Oberyn's squire, Daemon was it? You two were pretty much inseparable at the feast and for the rest of the night."

His deflection worked as Robb started stuttering and Dacey glared at him with a look that promised a long and painful retribution soon to be heading his way. But before anymore could be said, Jon abruptly pulled on the reins of his horse, making the beast neigh beneath him as he wheeled him about, his eyes scanning the tree line to their east.

"Jon," Robb asked uncertainly.

"I felt it too." Jon nodded, his eyes moving rapidly along the line of trees.

"What?" Small Jon asked, any humor gone from his eyes as his hand now rested on the hilt of his Valyrian great sword. "This some sorcery horse shit, you two? What's going on?"

A second disturbance from the Force, one screaming of imminent danger, brought Jon's eyes skywards. "Look out!" he yelled, thrusting his hand skywards and sending a pulse of Force energy outwards.

The dozen or so arrows that'd been coming straight for them all shattered as if they'd struck true against a stone wall yet failed to find purchase as the broken shafts fell uselessly to the ground a few dozen paces from Jon and the others.

"Shit!" Eddard yelled, pulling his sword free from its sheath. "Bandits?"

"No," Jon replied, shaking his head as he watched dozens of fur cloaked men and women rush out from the heavy tree line and make for the carriages and wagons. "Wildlings."

"Wildings?" Theon near shouted in disbelief. "Wildings don't venture this far south!"

"Apparently now they do," Robb stated, sitting up as tall as he could in his saddle while drawing forth his own sword. "We have to get back to the column and help with the defense."

Palming his lightsaber, Jon eyed the soon-to-be battlefield. The men of House Stark and Manderly had formed a crude line of shields and men between the wagons and the quickly approaching Wildlings while the noncombatants were doing everything they could to try and help by picking up bows or crossbows and letting loose at their attackers, though with little accuracy. When the Wildlings managed to cross half the distance between the tree line and the column, a flash of light came from near the wagons as lightning streaked out across the field, killing several Wildlings in a single pass but doing little to slow their momentum.

"Fuck this waiting around shit," Umber growled, jerking his horse around. "We're standing here with our dicks in our hands! Let's go kill these fuckers and then raise a fucking horn over their corpses!"

Jon could feel the nerves rolling off his brother, as accented by the slight shaking of Robb's hand as he held onto his sword. Though as quick as spark from flint, the shaking disappeared as Robb went completely calm and turned towards Jon. "Are you with me, brother?"

Flipping his lightsaber hilt into his hand, Jon drew forth the blade with the sound of quenched steel, revealing the white blade for all to see. "Aye, brother. From here to the hells and back."

Licking his lips, Robb turned his horse around so that he was facing towards the column and the small group of Wildlings that were running towards them. "For the North!" Robb shouted, holding his blade high and kicking his heels into his horse's side.

"For the North!" Jon and the others shouted, even Asha and Theon much to his amazement.

It didn't take long for their horses to go from a trot to a full run as the seven charged headlong towards the Wildlings in a wedge formation with slight space between each rider. The Wildlings proved just how unused they were to fighting men on horseback as the small group of a dozen or so didn't try to set up a wall of spears or shields, instead they just kept running straight at them. Just before the two small groups clashed, a few Wildlings showed some sense as they tried to pull out of their path after realizing they weren't stopping. But the rest just kept on running. And when they inevitably clashed, the result was predictable. The heavy Northern warhorses ran over the Wildlings like they were blades of grass. And the few that didn't get bashed aside or crushed under the hooves of their horses were cut down by the quick swings of swords from the riders.

Not slowing their momentum after breaking through the small group that'd come to intercept them, Jon urged his horse to keep pace with Robb as the seven of them raced for the skirmish at the wagons. As they drew closer, Jon could start picking out aspects of the fight. Lord Stark was atop his warhorse in front of the makeshift shield wall, Ice held in one hand and the reins of his horse held in the other as the Warden of the North cut down one Wildling after another that got within his reach. And standing a slight distance down the row of shields was Lord Nox. His lightsaber out and cutting down Wildlings like a scythe through wheat. While one or two Wildlings managed to evade his blade, they were not able to evade Lord Nox's lightning. Just as they were about to reach the line of battle, Jon watched in awed horror as his Master unleased a bolt of lightning that struck a Wildling in the back just before said Wildling could reach the wagons. The man, or woman he wasn't sure, could only give off a single strangled cry of agony before his entire body turned to ash and disappeared on the wind.

Coming into the fray, Jon eyed a Wildling who'd just stood up and held his hand up high. Jon's gut lurched as he realized the Wildling was holding a man's head. A man that Jon recognized as one that he'd just broken his fast with this very morning. Letting his anger run through him and not carrying that his target had his back turned towards him, Jon brought his lightsaber down upon the back of the Wilding's neck and separated the man's head and upraised arm clean from his shoulders.

Not bothering to look where the body fell, Jon pulled roughly on the reins of his horse to wheel him around towards his next target. Swinging his lightsaber downwards, he cut through a bronze sword (though he used the term loosely) and the Wildling's chest that was wielding the weapon.

"Robb! Jon!" Lord Stark bellowed, making Jon glance out of the corner of his eye to see his father cutting a path towards them. "Get back to the wagons! Now!"

Seeing a man nearly the size of Hodor run up towards Robb with the clear intention of unhorsing him, Jon went to intercept him. But his intervention was unnecessary as Robb seemed to know he was coming and expertly moved his horse around in a tight circle to avoid the charging man before slashing into the back the man's head. Unfortunately, the strike didn't go clean through and while the man was undoubtably dead, Robb's sword was pulled free from his grasp as dead man fell. His brother didn't hesitate, however. Instead of trying to scramble to get his sword, he pulled his horse around to dodge a thrust from a spear, only to grab the shaft of the weapon and pull it free from the one wielding it. The now weaponless Wildling, a woman he thought though it was hard to tell, didn't seemed phased about losing her weapon as she pulled a dagger from her belt and lunged at Robb. Only to receive an arrow right through her eye courtesy of Theon who was already notching another arrow to let loose.

Pulling his feet out of the stirrup of his saddle, Jon effortlessly swung his leg over his horses' neck and slid down to his feet. While fighting atop horseback gave one a distinct advantage, Jon wasn't nearly half the rider that his brother was. And one of his strengths was his mobility, which was severely hampered atop a horse.

Digging his feet into the ground, Jon rushed towards the nearest Wildling he could see while holding his lightsaber in a low guard. The Wildling, either not expecting Jon's speed or any challenge, didn't even get his weapon in time to block as Jon cut clean through his chest with a single swipe of his lightsaber. Breathing deep, he let himself be immersed in the Force as around him men and woman fought and died. Ducking in time to let an axe pass over his head, Jon twisted and thrust his lightsaber through his would-be attacker's heart, killing him instantly before using a kick to knock his corpse away. Using the momentum of his kick, Jon pivoted on his supporting foot while leaning down to avoid another clumsy thrust of a spear point. Coming out of the pivot, Jon buried his lightsaber into the Wildling's throat nearly up to the hilt. This brought him face to face with the Wildling, a woman with blood covered yellow teeth who could only stare at him in disbelief as he twisted his wrist to turn the lightsaber in order to completely remove her head.

Breathing deep, Jon turned to find his next opponent, only to find the battle to be winding down. Only a few Wildlings were still standing, but they weren't standing for long as they were being ruthlessly and effectively cut down by the men of House Stark and Manderly. All save for one Wildling who was larger than even the one who tried to de-horse Robb early in the battle. The man was wielding a club with a large stone imbedded into one end and in his other hand he was wielding a very crude curved sword. His face was painted with black markings around his eyes with streaks running down his cheeks. When the beast of a man finally realized he was alone now, he started turning slowly, observing the men surrounding him while the Northmen kept just out of reach of his club and sword.

Stopping midturn, the Wildling pointed his sword directly towards Jon's father. "Stark! I challenge you! Stand and fight me, you spineless coward!"

Everyone stopped whatever they were doing as Lord Stark nudged his warhorse forward, Ice dripping blood of the Wildlings that he slew. "You know me?" Jon's father asked, staying just outside the ring of men surrounding the Wildling.

"Aye I do!" the Wildling spat, "In the true north, we know all about ye and yer family! We used to respect ya, hated ya, but respected ya. The 'Kings-of-fuckin-Winter'. But then your pathetic cockless ancestor threw away his crown instead of fightin and dying. Now all you fuckin Starks are nothing but pathetic kneelers in our eyes! Now stand and fight, ya fucker! Or prove you're a fuckin cockless coward just like the rest of yer family!"

Jon didn't need to see his father to know that his eyes had turned color, the eyes of the wolf as they were now known throughout Winterfell and most of the North. Extinguishing his lightsaber, Jon and the rest of the men of the North watched in silence as Lord Stark slid easily from his saddle and onto the ground. The Wildling, either not knowing or not caring about what he'd started, merely grinned as he settled into a wide stance with both weapons held out at his sides. "Finally! A challenge! I'm going to gut you like a fish, Stark! Then I'm going to eat your fuckin heart right in front of your whelps!"

His father didn't say anything as he held Ice aloft in a two-handed grip and settled into a stance with his right foot back and his left foot forward. Letting out a bellowing war cry, the Wildling charged at Lord Stark, his steps heavy and his arms held wide as he tried to put as much momentum as possible into his swings. But his father simply sidestepped and used Ice's length to deflect the wild strong strikes with little to no effort. It was obvious, even to Jon's limited experience outside the training yard, that the larger Wildling was used to brute forcing his way through fights and had therefore cared little to learn the finesse of a proper one-on-one fight. The Wilding, in a fit of rage at not being able to even come close to landing a blow, had unleashed a powerful overhead strike with his club, which his father calmly sidestepped. The force of the strike was enough to bury the clubhead into the ground. Before the Wildling could recover, his father used the flat of Ice to break the man's exposed elbow before calmly sidestepping and hamstringing the Wildling. Then, without saying a word, the Quiet Wolf calmly and mercilessly removed the downed Wildling's head from his shoulders without uttering a single word or even grunt of exertion.

While his father remained calm and quiet as the last of the Wildling's fell to his blade, the rest of the men did not. The moment the last Wildling lost his head, a great roar of triumph spread quickly through the soldiers and smallfolk as many began chanting 'Stark' over and over. Feeling more than seeing Robb step up to his side, the two brothers watched as their father quietly took a piece of cloth that'd been offered to him by one of the men wearing Stark livery before he started the process of cleaning the blood off of Ice.

"Start seeing to the wounded and dead," his father intoned, tossing the bloodied cloth on top of the dead Wildling before sheathing Ice. "I want a count of both. And send out runners to see if any Wildlings fled the field before the battle ended."

The chants of victory quickly ended as the men quickly began to disperse and begin the task of sorting through the dead and injured. As much as Jon wanted to go with them and lend a hand, he found that he couldn't move as he found himself locked in his father's eyes. Thankfully, he wasn't the only one as Robb also seemed to be immobilized right next to him as their father approached them both, his yellow eyes not fading in the slightest despite the battle having passed.

"You two rode into battle," their Lord father stated, staring hard at the two of them. "I am disappointed in the both of you that you would so readily place yourselves in harm's way. Yet…I am proud of the men you two are becoming. Neither of you hesitated to act when faced with sudden adversity." Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Jon's back straight with pride as his father placed a hand on both his and Robb's shoulders. "Well done, my sons. Well done."

As his father let go of the both of them and left, Jon shared a quick glance with his brother, whose grin Jon was sure was mirrored on his own face. And as one, the two all but ran after their father to catch up with him as he made his way through the aftermath of the battle towards the column. Unsurprisingly to Jon, his father made directly for one of the lead carriages that he knew contained his sisters, Lady Nyra, and Lord Manderly's granddaughters.

Moving around the shuttered carriage to the side opposite of where the battle had occurred, Lord Stark knocked gently against the door before opening it. "Sansa, Arya? Are you all alri—?"

"Father!" A red streak shouted as Sansa lunged out of the carriage and grasped desperately onto their father's shoulders. "Wh – What happened?"

"A battle, of course," Arya deadpanned, though Jon could sense the fear and excitement coursing through her. "Father…can – can we—?"

"No, you cannot come out. Nor can you open the shutters of the carriage." Lord Stark ordered as he carefully removed Sansa from around his shoulders and set her back into the carriage.

"But—" Arya sputtered. "But Robb and Jon—"

"Are both older than you." Lord Stark finished for her in a tone that brokered no argument. "You will all stay in this carriage and you will keep the shutters closed until you hear otherwise. Nyra, please keep an eye on my daughters and Lord Manderly's granddaughters."

"Of course, milord." Lady Nyra answer immediately, placing her hands upon Sansa's shoulders and guiding her back into the carriage. "Please, Lady Sansa. A battlefield, especially the aftermath, is no place for one as young as you. Lady Arya, listen to your father and leave it be."

There was no shortage of grumbling from his youngest sister about life not being fair, but mercifully enough she didn't protest further as their father shut the carriage door and turned to march back towards the battlefield with Robb and Jon almost racing to keep up with him. Once they passed by the carriages and wagons, his father immediately made for a small group composing of Lord Nox, Lord Manderly, and Ser Jory. As they approached, all three men stopped talking to one another and turned towards them.

"What's the damage?" his father asked without preamble.

"More than a dozen dead and more than twice that injured," Lord Nox answered immediately. "Three horses are dead and two more are now lame and will need to be put down. And one of the wagons snapped an axel. But it could've been far worse."

"It was bad enough as it was, Nox," Lord Stark replied without any real heat in his voice, but more like he was just stating a fact. "What of the Wildlings?"

"We're not entirely sure, my Lord," Ser Jory answered. "Those that stayed on the field are dead to man and woman. However, there are a good number that fled into the woods."

"How many?"

"At least a dozen or more, my Lord," Ser Jory winced as he stated the number. "And that's not all Lord Stark. Lady Mormont, she recognized these Wildlings as belonging to the Ice River clans. And, well, they have a reputation for being…"

"Cannibals." Lord Stark finished for his Captain, making Jon flinch at the mere thought of the disgusting trait. "And now there are still over a dozen still roaming our lands free."

"So, when are we leaving?" Lord Nox asked pointedly, drawing looks from the two Lords and Captain. "What? You all were not seriously considering staying here with our thumbs up our asses while cannibals raid your lands even more so than they already have, were you?"

"No," Lord Stark stated immediately. "Lord Manderly. I'm leaving you in charge. Load up our dead and wounded into the wagons and head a few hours west towards the Kingsroad before making camp. Ser Jory, Nox, my sons, and a dozen volunteers will come with me into the forest to rout out the Wildling survivors. If we don't meet up with you by dawn two days from now, continue North to Winterfell."

"It will be done, my Lord," Lord Manderly responded almost immediately, clasping a closed fist to his chest.

As the large Lord waddled back towards the column, Jon's father turned back towards him and his brother. "I don't suppose it would do much good to tell the two of you to stay with the column and your sisters?"

Robb and Jon shared a look with one another before turning back towards their father. "You said it yourself father," Robb stated, "it is the duty of a Lord and his Heirs to ensure the safety of their people. What kind of son of yours, of the North, would I be if I didn't see to the threat of Wildlings loose on our lands personally?"

"And you'll need my Force Tracking, Lord Stark," Jon added. "I'll be able to find them far faster than any other tracker we might have with us." Keeping his head up, Jon didn't let any of the nerves he was feeling show as he stood tall before his father.

"I often wondered what my father felt like when dealing with your uncles and aunt and I when we were younger. Now I know," their father said with a sad shake of his head. "Ready your horses, my sons. We leave immediately."

Jon and Robb didn't need telling twice as they took off immediately to find their horses. Quickly enough, they found them since they were being held by some of the smallfolk and met up with Theon who insisted on coming along with them. In the end, the group that were heading out after the Wildlings consisted of Jon, Robb, their father, Lord Nox, Asha, Theon, Small Jon, Dacey and a few other Stark men at arms. Within no time at all, the group was riding into the trees and Jon was searching through the Force for any trace of the Wildlings that attacked them.

It wasn't very hard if he was being honest. The Wildlings that fled the battle did little to hide their movements and it was mere child's play for Jon to pick up their trail and begin hunting them down. As dusk began to settle in on them, Jon brought a halt to the tracking party as he sensed a sudden increase in the trail they'd been following. Hopping off his horse, Jon knelt and placed his hand against a footprint that'd been left in a soft dirt pile and closed his eyes.

"They're close," he said, leaving his hand on the footprint and letting the Force guide his other hand to point in the direction he felt the Wildings had gone. "Their presence is stronger here… They passed through here just a short time ago."

"We go on foot from here," his father order, sliding off his horse. "You two, stay with the horses. The rest of you with me."

Getting up from the ground, Jon kept his focus on the trail, which led them towards a small ridge.

"Don't think we need your magic anymore, Snow," Theon grunted, lifting his chin in the air, "I can smell the bastards from here."

"Quiet." Lord Stark ordered, crouching low to the point where he was almost laying on the ground and edging closer towards the edge of the ridge.

Following suit, Jon and the rest who'd come with them all lowered themselves to the ground and peered over the edge of the ridge. Sure enough, just a short distance from where they were hiding was the remnants of a large camp. There were dozens of tents, shoddy wagons, and even a few mules for pulling the wagons. But instead of the camp being heavily populated, there were only perhaps about two dozen men and women that Jon could see frantically running back and forth between the tents as they scavenged the camp for anything of value.

"Smell that?" Small Jon mumbled, sniffing at the air. "Smells like they're cooking meat so some kind. Figure after we kill these fucks, they won't mind us taken their meal off their hands."

"Wouldn't trust any of the meat you see in the camp, Umber," Dacey hissed back. "These fucks belong to the Ice River Clans. Fucking cannibals. I can guarantee any meat you find down there didn't come from any animal."

For not the first time, Jon felt a wave of bile rising in his throat, which became almost impossible to keep down as he spotted a spite with still bleeding meat skewered on it over one of the low burning fires.

"Vile fiends!" Robb cursed. "Have they no respect for the dead?"

"They're Wildings, young wolf," Small Jon shrugged. "They don't know the meaning of respect."

"Quiet," Lord Stark shushed, holding a finger towards his lips. "Nox?"

Looking over his shoulder, Jon found his Master laying on his back with his sightless-covered eyes facing skywards. "Jon and I will get their attention by approaching from the east," Nox stated. "Everyone else head west towards the wagons near the back of the camp while they're distracted in order to cut off their best route of escape. Once they start running, you can cut them down."

"And how do you expect to get their attention, Sorcerer?" Theon asked, shooting a quick glance towards Lord Nox. "And how do you know they'll flee?"

"Simple," Nox shrugged, rolling over onto his front. "Jon and I will just start killing them until we get their attention. Once enough of them are dead, those still alive will turn tail and run. These aren't exactly the bravest of fighters we're dealing with here. If they were, they would've kept to the field instead of running at the first sign things weren't going well for them."

Turning away from his Master, Jon found his father staring directly at him. No words passed between them, but Jon could tell just by the look in his father's eye that he was asking Jon if he was ready. Palming his lightsaber, Jon gave but a single nod to his father before backing away from the edge of the ridge towards his Master.

"Lord Nox is right," Jon said quietly. "We can create a distraction enough for everyone else to get behind them and pincer them between us."

"Then that is what we'll do," Lord Stark stated, pulling himself back from the ridge and standing up. "Be careful, son. And stay close to Lord Nox when the fighting begins."

"Aye…father," Jon replied after a moment's hesitation.

Giving Robb and even Theon a nod of encouragement, Jon took off after his Master who was already making his way towards the eastern end of the camp far enough away from the edge of the ridge to not risk being seen by the Wildlings below.

"Keep your mind focused on the here and now, Jon," Lord Nox ordered him as the two turned back towards the ridge and stared their descent on the far eastern side of the camp. "You want to protect your brother and father? Then make sure none of these bastards are alive to pose a threat to them."

Letting out a breath, Jon closed his eyes and drew on the Force just as he always did before a spar or the few true fights he'd been in. As they descended the ridge towards the camp, Jon felt a familiar surge of excitement, his hands practically shaking in rage and excitement as they drew closer and closer to the Wildling encampment. He fingered the ignition button of his lightsaber eagerly and restlessly.

"Do not draw your blade just yet," his Master commanded as they approached the camp. "Do not give away your advantage until your opponent over commits themselves. Only then show them their folly as they lay on their deathbed."

Finally noticing their approach, one of the remaining Wildlings gave off a cry of alarm before grabbing a spear and running towards Jon and Nox. The cry went through the camp quickly, and by the time the man was almost upon them, the rest of the Wildlings had grabbed whatever weapons they could and were heading towards the two of them.

"Idiots," his Master sighed, holding up his hand. The first Wilding that'd been rushing towards them stopped cold as Nox gripped the man tightly with the Force. And then with a simple twitch of his wrist, the man's neck snapped as his head turned completely around. Seeing their fellow die so quickly and in such a manner brought the other Wildlings skidding across the ground less than a few paces away as realization dawned in their eyes.

"Fuck!" a woman with rotten teeth screamed. "It be the fuckin sorcerer! Run!"

Twin hisses sounded through the camp as Jon and his Master both drew forth their lightsabers simultaneously and charged after the fleeing Wildlings. A few of the Wildlings turned to make a stand, but they didn't last long as Jon lost himself in the Force and cut a path through the few that tried to make a stand against them. But as quick as Jon was, Nox was even quicker and far more ruthless. As dangerous as he knew these Wildlings to be, something about cutting a man down while he was running brought a pause to Jon. His Master however didn't have such hesitation as he cut down both those who were fleeing and those who tried to stand and fight in equal measure.

As they passed by the low burning fires, Jon saw something that caught his eye and made him hesitate. Next to the fire, there was a woman a naked woman with a gag in her mouth and her hands bound above her head with a rope that'd been slung over a tree branch directly above the fire. He wasn't sure just why the woman was there or what was about to happen to her before they arrived… No, wait, he did have a pretty good idea of that. He just didn't want to think about it. But as he moved to free her, another Wildling ran out from behind the tree the woman was tied too with a club held in his hand.

Spacing his feet, Jon brought his lightsaber to bear, ready to cut the man down. But he needn't have bothered as the moment the Wildling stepped past the woman, she used the rope that was binding her hands to lift herself up off the ground and wrapped her thighs around the man's neck. Then, with a twist of her hips, she threw the Wildling onto the fire before her. The Wildling screamed as the fires ate at his furs. Though, he was quick to roll out of their grasp and further across the ground trying to put the flames out. Not wanting to give him a chance to recover, Jon was on him in an instant, his lightsaber cutting through the man's neck, severing his head and leaving his body to smolder on the damp leafy ground.

Turning to the woman, Jon saw fear in her as her eyes flickered between his lightsaber and him and back. Stepping towards her, Jon slashed at the robe above her head, freeing her, before taking off his cloak and offering it to her all the while trying to keep his eyes in appropriate places. "Stay hidden till it's over," he told her as she slowly took the offered cloak so that she could cover herself until she found new clothes.

But his concern for her wellbeing turned out to be unnecessary. By the time he got back to the fight, his father and brother along with the men with them had sprung their trap and were in the process of ending the last few remaining Wildlings that'd decided to go down fighting rather than surrender. Sheathing his lightsaber, Jon motioned for the woman to follow him as he made his way over towards his brother and father, all the while keeping a close eye on the downed Wildlings just in case one wasn't entirely dead.

"Well, well, Snow," Theon called out, his bow in hand and an arrow ready to draw. "Quite the find you have there. If he's not enough for you, pretty lady, let me know and you'll see what a real man can do."

"If she wants a 'real man' Greyjoy, then she's better off sticking with Snow rather than you!" Small Jon bellowed from nearby, drawing more than a few laughs from the men around them and a scowl from Theon.

One who wasn't laughing with the others though was his father, who was finishing cleaning off Ice and sheathed the ancestral sword before making his way over to Jon and the woman. His father wasn't the only one who wasn't laughing at the Theon's expense as Dacey was staring at the barely covered woman beside Jon with a suspicious look in her eye. "Are you alright, Jon?"

"Aye," Jon nodded, feeling more than a little proud of himself for having gotten through the skirmish without a scratch on himself.

"Good," his father nodded as his attention shifted to the woman who was clutching his cloak around her bare shoulders. "And you, lady? Are you injured?"

"Aye," the woman said simply, her eyes moving across everyone before they landed on Lord Nox, which caused a spike of fear to emanate from her. 'Why would she fear Lord Nox? We just saved her?'

"Show proper respect, woman," one of the Stark men at arms growled. "You are standing before Lord Stark, Warden of the North! And the Northern Sorcerer, Lord Nox!"

"The Sorcerer," the woman breathed. "And Benjen Stark's kin?"

Jon nearly jumped as Dacey was immediately in front of him with her spiked Valyrian mace pointed towards the woman. "I knew it," Dacey growled. "She recognized Lord Stark as 'Benjen Stark's kin. She's another fucking Wildling just like the rest of those here."

All the attention shifted to the woman, who'd taken a half step back away from Dacey and her mace. "I ain't no fuckin Ice River Clan shit!" the woman spat. "But I am a Free Woman, southerner."

"Southerner?" Small Jon growled, as he too stepped forward with his sword drawn. "We're in the North, you Wildling fuck. Not the south!"

Impressively, the woman did not back down despite the fact she had Dacey's mace in her face and had the Small Jon closing in on her. "We be south of the Wall. That makes you all southerners."

Snarling, the Umber heir kept his eyes on the Wildling woman, "Ice River Clan or not, she still a fucking Wildling south of the Wall. Let me deal with her, Lord Stark. I'll make it quick, more than the likes of her deserves."

"No, not yet," Jon's father ordered as he moved past Dacey and Small Jon to stand before the Wildling woman who, to her credit, did not back down from his father's gaze. "What is your name?"

The woman's head flickered, mimicking that of a cornered cat looking for a way to escape being caught. "Osha."

"Osha," his father repeated with a nod. "How did you get south of the Wall? Were there any others with you? And where are the Black Brothers that helped this group cross the gorge?"

Licking her lips, the newly named Osha seemed unable to look away from Jon's father. Frowning, Jon concentrated on the two standing nearly toe-to-toe, and felt a strange sensation coming from the Force that seemed to be passing between his father and Osha.

"Two crows helped me and two others of me clan cross gorge long before these ones crossed," Osha stated, her voice gaining a strange almost dream like sound to it. "They be nice enough for crows. Both wanted a tumble with me, but neither was strong enough to claim it. We be hidin and makin our way as far south as south goes, but we didn't get far. These Ice River fucks surprised us in the night. They turned the two crows with us in ta meals. Cooked em slow on a low fire while they still be alive. After they ate the crows with them as well, they ate my clansman as well. I…They was savin me for some celebration feast they said this morn. Then almost all left to fight. But only a few came back. And – what? Fuck! …What did ya do to me, Stark?!"

"Impressive, Lord Stark," Lord Nox stated as he stepped up beside Jon's father. "Usually, one has to train for years in order to do what you just did on a whim. Either you've been holding out on me or we need to reevaluate your Force sensitivity."

"Sorcerer," Osha whispered fearfully.

"Relax, woman," Nox said dismissively. "If I wanted you dead, you would be dead already." That didn't calm the woman down, though she no longer looked ready to run at the first opportunity.

"Who cares why she came south?" Umber growled once more. "She's a fucking Wildling! Let's just end her already."

Osha's hair whipped through the air as she looked between Jon's father, Lord Nox, and the Umber heir. "Give me my life, milord, and I'm yours," Osha cried, surprising just about everyone as she dropped to her knees before Jon's father.

His father's face remained impassive as he stared down at the Wildling woman prostrating herself before him. "Swear it upon the Old Gods," Lord Stark demanded, surprising everyone as Osha looked up at him, hope welling within her.

Osha didn't hesitate. "I swear upon the Old Gods, milord. I am yours if ye spare me life."

"And I accept your oath, Osha, formerly of the Wildings and now a subject to House Stark," Lord Stark spoke clearly and loudly for all to hear, making sure that everyone knew that this woman was now under House Stark's protection. "Find some clothes. And when we return to Winterfell, I shall find a use for you."

Osha nodded quickly before scampering off to scour the camp in order to find proper clothing. "You two," his father said, pointing towards two Stark guards standing behind him without even looking. "Return to where we tied our horses off and collect them. Everyone else, scour the camp for anything that might prove useful and load it up onto the wagons with the mules. We'll be taking what we can back with us to Winterfell and put it to use."

Though a few didn't look too terribly pleased with recent events, especially Small Jon, the words of Jon's father were absolute in the North. And with nary a word said, the men and Dacey began to search through the camp looking for anything that might be of use. The only ones who didn't were Jon, Robb, their father, and Lord Nox.

"Father," Robb said cautiously, his eyes seeking out the Wildling woman who'd managed to find some furs and was currently in the process of changing behind a wagon. "Why did you take that woman in? She's a Wildling. She'll betray us at the first opportunity."

"No, she won't," their father replied, surprising Robb and Jon. "There was no lie in her and she meant her oath. If she does betray the trust of House Stark, she will not only die, but she will be forever cursed by the gods as an oath breaker."

Robb seemed to mull that thought over in his head. "But why even take the risk, father? She's a Wildling. They're all savages."

"What have I told you about generalizing a group of people, Robb?" their father asked in a tone that both boys recognized easily. It was the tone of voice he took whenever he was lecturing the two on the art of ruling. "Are all Northerners the same? Our people range from those who reside in the Mountain Clans to the Skagosi and the people of White Harbor. Are they all the same? Are all southerners the same? The people in the Riverlands and the Vale are as different from those in Dorne and the Stormlands as night is from day. In the south, there are many that consider us in the North to be little more than barbarian heathens who're only a step above the Wildlings. Are they right? No. I have always told you boys that the sins of the parents are not carried by their children. And the same can be said for a group of people. The many are not beholden to the sins of a few."

His words, even though they weren't the first time Jon had heard him, struck him like one of Lord Nox's punches. He could've sworn that his father was trying to say something to him, personally, without actually saying it. But for the life of him, he couldn't figure out just what that was.

"But that is only part of the reason why I took that woman into our household," his father continued. "Recently, the Wildlings have begun raiding the North more and more. But more than that, some are not necessarily raiding but rather are almost fleeing. Then there is the new King-Beyond-the-Wall that has managed to do what few others have done before by gaining the allegiance of almost every Wildling tribe north of the Wall. The Night's Watch can tell us much, but in the end, it is only one side of what is going on. She can probably provide us with more of what is happening from the perspective of the Wildlings."

For the briefest of moments, Jon could've sworn that it was Lord Nox lecturing the two of them and not their father. The lesson was so like one often given by Lord Nox that Jon was tempted to do a scan of his father with the Force just to make sure his Master wasn't pulling a trick of the mind on them both.

"Leave no stone unturned," Jon said, repeating the words Nox had often said to both himself and Robb. "And do not trust what everyone knows. But rather seek the truth for yourself."

"Very good, Jon," his father nodded. "Now, both of you get along helping the others. I want to return to Lord Manderly and your sisters before nigh—"

A powerful disturbance in the Force rung in Jon's ears, drowning out whatever his father had said. If he hadn't already experienced the disturbance in the Force with Shireen Baratheon, he was sure that he would've been brought to his knees. But thankfully he was able to push the disturbance back from the pounding sensation in his head to little more than a dull ache. Robb however wasn't as fortunate as he found his brother nearly bent in half and dry heaving while Lord Nox and even their father were both staring off in the direction the disturbance came from. "Lord Nox…father?"

"We all felt it, Jon," Lord Nox stated plainly.

"What…What was th – father?" Jon called out as his father began walking off into the woods.

Jon and Robb, who'd only just recovered, both moved to stop him, only to be stopped themselves as Lord Nox held out his arm, blocking their path. "What is happening is the will of the Force and needs to happen." Lord Nox explained, lowering his arm, "We'll follow Lord Stark, but do nothing to stop him."

Knowing better than to question an order given by Lord Nox, Jon and Robb both eagerly nodded their heads and together the three of them left the Wilding encampment, following their father who was walking hurriedly into the woods. They only walked for maybe quarter of a mile at best when Jon heard running water in the distance. Along with the breaking of branches and the cries of two distinct animals. His father broke into a run, leaving the three of them rushing to catch up as a small stream came into view.

The source of the noise stole Jon's breath from his lungs. For standing on the edges of the stream not a stone's throw from where they were was the largest stag Jon had ever seen in his entire life! Even more surprising than the stag was what it was fighting against. A wolf. A wolf that could rival the size of horse! Both animals were covered in blood, cuts, and bite marks as the two circled and lunged at one another time and time again. 'Not a wolf,' he realized, still in a daze. 'A direwolf! The symbol of House Stark.'

While Jon could do little more than stare in awe at the near-mythical creature and sigil of his father's house, the stag let out a bellow and lowered its antlers in order to skewer the direwolf through the beast's side as it darted back and forth. Yet before the antlers could so much as ruffle the wolf's fur, the beast's head did a sudden upturn as it twisted in place while its body remained still. Its neck breaking in several places with the sounds of a tree falling in the forest. Jon didn't need to look to know who had killed the stag. He'd seen the same technique several times over the past few years and knew of only one who had the control and the power to perform such a feat.

With its adversary suddenly dead, the direwolf immediately lowered itself towards to the ground, its head moving slowly as it looked for what saved it the trouble of killing the beast. When its eyes landed on the four of them, it immediately started to growl, but otherwise stayed still. Deciding to put some more of his training to the test, Jon reached out through the Force, trying feel out the massive direwolf. 'It…No…She's…afraid. But not of us. But rather, she's…she's guarding something. But…what?'

Hearing a sword leave its sheath, Jon looked it time to see his father stab Ice into the soft ground near the stream. "The three of you stay here," he ordered in a tone that brokered no argument as he slowly stepped through the stream, cautiously approaching the wolf with his hand outstretched towards the horse-sized direwolf.

"What's he doing?" Robb gasped, moving to follow their father, only to stop as Jon and Lord Nox both held out their arms to stop him.

"He's following the will of the Force," Lord Nox stated plainly, a light smile playing at the corner of his lips. "Now, shut up, stay still, and watch."

Staying silent, the three watched as Lord Stark crossed the small stream and made his way down the bank on the opposite side. His eyes never leaving the direwolf's as he drew steadily closer while the wolf held its ground. "Easy, girl," his father said gently, his soft voice carrying over the running water as Jon waited with bated breath for whatever was about to happen to, well, happen. "I mean you no harm, girl. Nor do I seek your prey. I mean only to help."

If Jon had any doubt as to the supposed intelligence of a direwolf, they were firmly put to rest as the wolf, in response to his father's words, stopped growling and it's face relaxed. It kept its eyes firmly on his father, but it looked more…relaxed than it had before he spoke. When less than an arm's length separated the two of them, his father went to one knee before the massive wolf with his hand less than a finger width from its snout. The wolf eyed the hand warily and gave it a tentative sniff. And then… And then Jon needed to check if he was dreaming as the wolf leaned its snout into his father's hand.

"By the gods old and new," Robb breathed as they watched their father do the impossible as he gently caressed the head of the wolf.

"Easy, girl," he could hear his father mumble lowly as his other hand came up to join the first on the wolf's head. "Let's take away that pain of yours."

Feeling a rush of the Force, Jon blinked as the wolf jumped back from his father, suddenly on guard again. But as the wolf made to snarl, it stopped. Then turned its head towards the several blood spots that covered its fur and gave each a tentative lick as if trying to figure out just why its wounds no longer hurt or bled. Rising from his knee, Lord Stark kept close eye contact with the wolf as he slowly took a few steps back from the carcass of the stag. "It's all yours, girl," he said loudly and clearly. "Stay safe."

Turning his back on the wolf, Lord Stark started trudging back through the stream making his way towards them. Just as he crossed the stream, a low howl from the wolf brought him back around. The direwolf, now having all of their attention once more, went over to the hindquarters of the stag and, with one powerful twist of its head, ripped off one of the beast's legs and threw it across the stream towards Lord Stark. It then grabbed what was left of the stag and dragged it into the woods away from the stream and disappearing.

"Fucking hells," Robb breathed as their father bent down and picked up the full leg of the stag. "Have you ever seen anything like that before?"

"Seen?" Jon mumbled, still not fully believing just what he'd seen. "I've never even heard of anything like that."

"I have," Lord Nox commented, his sightless eyes focused across the bank where the wolf had disappeared to. "Just hadn't expected to see it here, and with one untrained with animal bonding through the Force. You Starks… Every time I think I have you lot figured out, you just keep finding more and more ways of surprising me."


Drumming his fingers against the small table that had been set out in the large tent that'd been assembled for Lord Stark's use. Nox sat with Ned, Wyman, Robb, Jon, and the heirs or spares that'd gone with them to Valyria and were now accompanying them back to Winterfell where they would meet up with their families once more. The main topic of discussion of course was revolving around the Wildling attack, their subsequent finding of the Wildlings' camp, and the saving of only prisoner left alive. Osha, the former Wildling woman who was now in service to House Stark. On their trek back to the main column, she had told Ned and everyone else everything she knew about Mance Rayder and why there had been such a dramatic increase in Wildling activity south of the Wall as of late.

There was unrest North of the Wall, unrest far greater than anything the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch had reported, or perhaps even knew about. Entire clans going missing without any warning. Their settlements seemingly completely abandoned with nary a body to be found. Unnatural cold killing people by the dozens. Her reasoning for what was going on, as well as for how and why Mance Rayder had managed to become King-Beyond-the-Wall, had shook many to their core.

"—She's a Wildling, my lord!" Jon Umber was near shouting as he stood before Ned, his face one of deep anger. "We cannot trust anything she says! We should just kill her and be done with it!"

"We Mormonts have more reason than any to hate the Wildlings, Small Jon," Dacey chimed in, her voice set with a noticeable edge. "And normally I would agree with you on this. But this woman, Osha, she was a prisoner and the next meal for those cannibal fuckers. Plus, she swore an oath of fealty to Lord Stark under the Old Gods. The Wildlings are many things, but they take the gods very, very seriously. She will not break such an oath easily."

Umber was clearly not pleased with her response, as he no doubt expected Dacey to support his view given her home of Bear Island being a frequent target of Wildling raids. But before he could press the matter, Wyman changed the direction away from Osha and rather to the bit of information she was willing to provide to prove herself sincere. "Lord Stark has taken the woman into his Household, and I for one will abide by his decision. But I am far more concerned with the reasons she gave for the increase in Wildling raids we've seen as of late."

The shift in conversation brought about an abrupt shift within the tent as everyone present began to awkwardly shift themselves around. "The Others, wights and white walkers," Eddard Karstark shivered just saying the names. "They're legends from a time long since passed, nothing more."

"All legends have to come from somewhere," Robb said, drawing attention to himself. "We all know the Children are real, despite no one having seen them for centuries. We know the Old Gods are real. Lord Nox has brought his magic to the North and shown that there those who can use the same magic as he. With these things that we know, is it really that much of a stretch to believe that the Others might too exist?"

"And if the Others did not truly exist, they why did Bran the Builder construct the Wall in the first place?" Jon asked rather pointedly. "We of the North do not squander our resources like the soft Lords of the South." That got more than a few grunts of affirmation and chuckles. "And such a sentiment must have been even more relevant back in the Age of Heroes. If all Bran the Builder was trying to do was keep out the Wildlings, who didn't even exist at the time, then he wouldn't have made the Wall as large as he did. No, he constructed the Wall with the aid of the First Men, the Children of the Forest, and giants because they were trying to keep something out. Something terrible. Something they managed to drive to the Far North but not defeat. What other enemy could it possibly be other than the White Walkers and their Wights?"

Feeling Ned's attention on him, Nox got up from his seat and took his turn addressing those assembled. "When I first came to this land, I will admit I had not intended to stay," Nox admitted, drawing surprised looks from everyone save for Ned who knew where Nox was heading. "The children of House Stark were a drawing point I will admit as I had never encountered an entire family of Force sensitives like them before. But even that wouldn't have been enough to keep me here. No, what kept me in the North was because of something that happened on my first night within the walls of Winterfell."

Pausing to make sure he had everyone's undivided attention, he pressed on with his tale. "Before dawn, I felt a pull coming from the godswood. I made my way through the godswood to the weirwood, and when I stood before the ancient tree, I was granted a Force Vision unlike any I had ever experienced in my entire life. The vision was of the future, but not just one future. But of dozens, perhaps hundreds, of possible futures each one different than the last. Even years later, I still do not fully understand what I saw or even specific details. But there was one aspect of the future that occurred in every iteration of the future I saw. And that was that a darkness would come from the far north and spread across the land. First, the North would fall. Then the rest of Westeros would fall. And then the rest of the world would fall as other different dark entities from around the world added to its strength. I spent weeks searching for anything that might match the darkness that I saw. In the end, I came to only one possible conclusion for what we will be facing in the future."

"The Others," Robb stated.

"Aye," Nox nodded. "It was the only logical conclusion I could come up with."

"If…If you've known the Others were coming for us, then why the fuck haven't you said anything for years?" Umber growled, taking a menacing step towards him.

Not backing down, Nox let his aura flare slightly. The effect was immediately apparent everyone in the tent, save for Ned, Robb and Jon, all shivered and the Small Jon even seemed to shrink in on himself as he backed down. "I had a theory and a vision, not proof. Without proof, my conjectures were meaningless. Even if I had presented my thoughts to the other Northern Lords or even the King, do you think the reaction would've been any different than yours just a moment ago?" Nox let that sink in before pressing onwards. "Do not think for a moment that I have been just sitting on my ass doing nothing for years, Umber. I saw in my vision that the best chance we have of surviving what is coming is for there to be a strong North. And that has been my sole purpose for years: to strengthen the North to the point where it could, at the very least, stall what is coming in time to get help from the other Kingdoms."

"And Nox has not been acting alone in this," Ned spoke up, coming to his defense. "While Nox has not given voice to his visions in the past, he has spoken about them to me along with his theories. And he has had my full support these past seven years. And as Nox has always been honest with me and has given me no reason to doubt his word, I will continue to give him my full support. As will all of you."

The ultimatum, for that was exactly what it was, was met with silence.

"I do not doubt what you believe you saw in this…vision of yours, Sorcerer." Wyman started slowly as if he were carefully choosing each word before saying them. "You have done nothing but better the North since you arrived. I dare say you have done more for the North since the Starks unified it as a single kingdom. If for some reason this vision of yours does not come to pass, then the North will be in a far better place than it was in. And if, gods forbid, your dark vision does come to pass, then I will give thanks to the gods old and new that you have done all that you have and that you are on our side. And you and your children and your children's children will always have a place of honor in White Harbor for your actions."

"Well, I can't speak for my unc – I mean, my mother," Dacey added, catching herself as a spike of anger coursed through her. "But Bear Island will only follow the Starks. And if Lord Stark says to keep trusting you, then that is exactly what we'll do."

"Same with House Karstark," Eddard added.

All eyes turned to Small Jon, who was not looking pleased at being the last one to speak. "I still think this is all horse shit," Small Jon muttered. "But I suppose you've earned your place and the benefit of the doubt, sorcerer. My father respects you, and that isn't something that many can say, sorcerer. Just don't expect me to sit down and share a horn of ale with those Wildling cunts."

"Your words and actions are appreciated," Ned said as Umber took his seat once more. "At the end of the Fair, after my son Robb's name-day celebration, I will bring up this topic once more to your fathers and mothers. And our course will be set from there. For now, get some rest, but Lord Manderly, Lord Nox. I would like you two to stay behind. I would have more words with the both of you."

Having been dismissed, all the occupants of the tent save for Wyman and Nox quickly moved to leave. Though Robb and Jon both tried to stay, they were both quickly dismissed and fled the tent after but a single look from Ned. Now alone, Ned let out the heavy sigh that he'd obviously been holding in and sank down into a stool as the events of the day finally caught up with him.

"This was a good start," Nox began, retaking his own stool and pushing a cup of ale towards Ned and Wyman. "But this was the easy part."

"Aye," Ned nodded, taking the cup and draining it. "You were right, Nox. The Others…By the gods, I can't even wrap my mind around it."

"Neither can I, Lord Stark." Wyman added, holding his own cup but not drinking it. "And I doubt that anyone south of the Neck will even give the thought the time of day either. 'Grumpkins and snarks,' they'll say. 'A problem for the Far North,' they'll say. If they even admit that they exist in the first place."

"We'll need proof," Ned sighed.

"Proof that will not be easy to come by," Nox added. "For thousands of years, these creatures have bided their time, waiting until they have faded into obscurity and the minds of men have long since dismissed their threat. Unless we can unite the realm behind the idea that they are a problem, they will overrun the North. And once they have turned every man, woman, child and beast into one of their drones they will work their way through the South. And once they do, there will be no stopping them. And providing proof to the South isn't the only thing we have to worry about. The Wildlings have to be kept in mind as well."

"Aye," Wyman nodded. "If the King-Beyond-the-Wall manages to breach the Wall, then it could provide a means for the Others to cross through."

"That is one concern," Nox acquiesced. "But I was thinking more along the lines of them all being turned into wights, thralls for the Others. That is something that we cannot allow to have happen."

Wyman caught on quickly enough as his head went back and forth between Ned and Nox. "You – You mean to have the Wildlings cross the Wall? My Lord, this... You know that I will always stand behind House Stark. But—But you're asking for the North to test their loyalty to you and your House against their hatred for the Wildlings."

"This is not a decision that I am making lightly, Wyman." Ned countered. "And it is not something that will happen immediately. Not without proof. Even then, it will only occur when we are left with no other choice. But Nox is right, as he usually is. I would much rather have a hundred thousand battle-hardened Wildlings fighting on our side rather than on the side of the Others should they ever show themselves again. And you are right, Wyman. I am asking our Lords to test their loyalty to House Stark against their hatred for our longtime enemy. And I will need your help and support in this endeavor."

Wyman didn't even hesitate before he got up from his chair and went down to one knee. It was impressive just how spry the nearly morbidly obese man was. "House Stark saved my House long ago, Lord Stark. Your ancestors gave mine a home when we had nowhere to turn. You have my loyalty, my Lord. From now until the end of time."

It was dramatic, but Nox had grown used to dramatic oaths of fealty during his time as a Dark Council member. Of course, the difference between then and now was that Wyman meant his oath. In the Empire, such an oath would last only for as long as the one who swore the oath was weak. The moment they gained even the slightest advantage, they would forsake their oath and take power for themselves. It was a rather refreshing change of pace if he was to be honest. Though he wasn't naive enough to believe that all the Lords of the North would be as quick to accept Ned's reasoning as Wyman had been. After all, hate is a difficult obstacle to overcome.

"We may have to place this discussion on hold for a time, Ned, Wyman," Nox said as he felt two very familiar presences coming back towards them with a third in tow. "It appears Talisa has something she wishes to speak to us about and has convinced Robb and Jon to accompany her."

Waving his hand, Nox parted the curtains of the tent with the Force just as Robb was leaning forwards to announce their arrival. "Boys, Lady Talisa," Ned greeted the three, motioning for them to come inside, which they immediately did before Nox let the heavy canvas fall closed.

"Father," Jon and Robb chorused with Talisa adding. "Lord Stark."

Talisa had certainly made her mark on Ned and Wyman, as Nox knew that she would. The moment the battle had concluded, she had set to work seeing to any and all that were injured during the fight without even needing to be asked to do so. According to Wyman, her actions had ensured that at least a few could keep their limbs that'd been wounded and even saved the life of another two. Her quickness to act and her dedication, not to mention her bluntness, had earned her respect in the eyes of both Lord Stark and Lord Manderly.

"It is getting late," Ned noted while motioning for Lady Talisa, who was obviously the reason why the three of them were there, to take a seat. "I am curious as to what is so urgent that it could not wait until morning."

"I apologize for the hour, Lord Stark," Talisa began, taking the offered seat and offering Ned a thick book that he could tell just from the lingering aura around it as one of the ones that'd been recovered from Valyria. "But I have been translating some of the tomes and scrolls that Lord Nox recovered from Valyria and – and I believe I have found something that concerns the North specifically. I've marked that pages that I believe you will be most interested in."

Taking the offered book, Ned flipped through the pages until he reached whatever it was that Talisa had found. And it wasn't difficult to tell when he had. Ned's entire body froze up as confusion and fear warred within him. "This…" the Warden began as he took in whatever was on the page before him. "This is a detailed map of the North. An incredibly detailed map of the North."

Getting up from his seat, Nox stepped up beside Ned enough to glance at the page through the Force just as Wyman came up to his other side to do the same. The map encompassed two whole pages within the book and was without a doubt the most detail-oriented map of the Northern region of Westeros that he had ever seen. And that included the maps that were housed within Winterfell's library as well. The only unusual markings on the map were several areas that were marked with red coloring. The largest of which seemed to belong within a small mountain range less than a day's ride from Winterfell.

'It's a survey map,' Nox realized with a start. He'd seen quite a few during his time so it was easy to recognize it for what it was. The only question that remained was what exactly the Valyrians were surveying.

"Once I saw the map, I began translating as much of the passages relating to it as I could," Talisa continued as the three men continued to stare at the map. "The Valyrians used some form of magic I believe called 'blood scrying' to locate a specific type of metal ore."

"Metal ore?" Ned questioned, looking up from the map. "I recognize this mountain range. My ancestors have sent many crews to it to try and find anything of value, but they've always returned empty handed."

"Perhaps they just didn't know what they were looking for, my Lord?" Talisa countered. "But regardless, according to the notes in the book, the Valyrians believed that the regions noted on the map contained a type of metal ore that, once smelted and properly formed, could rival their Valyrian steel."

"A metal that could rival Valyrian steel?!" Wyman near shouted. "Is such a thing even possible?!"

While Nox kept his opinion to himself, his mind was racing. There were a few metals throughout the galaxy that could be considered on-par with Valyrian steel. But if one were to narrow those down to a true 'rival', then that considerably shortened the list. In fact, there was only one type of metal that he could think of off the top of his head that could be considered a rival to the steel the Valyrians had created. Beskar. 'If a vein of beskar truly exists on this planet…then it's value in the eyes of the Empire and the Republic would be such that both sides would organize to claim the world regardless of its current technological level. And that isn't to mention what the Mandalorian clans would do to get their hands on an untapped vein of beskar. That is if it even is beskar and not some other metal alloy. Which is possible. But even still, the chance to have pure beskar just sitting within reach… I'll need to work on a way to increase the potential of the blast furnaces. In its current condition, it wouldn't even be able to warm the beskar, let alone reach a temperature to properly form it.'

"What do you make of this, Nox?" Ned asked.

Scratching at his short-trimmed beard, Nox frowned as he mulled his response over in his head. "I am no expert on the Valyrians. But if there is one thing that I have learned about them it is that they were not necessarily a people to exaggerate about a potential advantage or threat. And that their magic was far more potent than I had originally theorized. They had a keen interest in the Starks and the North as a whole. The blood of the First Men and their potential magic was the primary reason for their interest, and we've confirmed that already. Perhaps this was a more…material reason why they were interested in the North. At the very least, I believe that it is worth checking out."

"I agree, my Lord," Wyman added. "If there is even the slightest chance that these writings could prove true, I believe that we should look into it."

Nodding, Ned closed the book and handed it back to Talisa. "Thank you for this, Lady Talisa," the Warden of the North said. "If it is not a bother, I would ask that you continue your work translating this book and help us in anyway you can. In return, I will grant you any boon that you ask of me. I owe you that much already for what you have done for my men today."

"I am merely paying off my debt owed to both Lord Nox and your family, Lord Stark," Talisa replied, taking the book back from Ned. "But as for a boon, if I may be so bold, the only thing I would ask of you would be to be given a chance to learn at this new college you and the sorcerer created and perhaps even teach."

"Done," Ned agreed almost immediately, drawing a light smile from the young woman who curtseyed before leaving the tent.

'She's fitting in nicely with the Northmen,' Nox thought as he took note of the approving sensations coming from Ned and Wyman as they watched the woman leave. As well as the less-than-pure thoughts that were coming from Robb. 'Hmm, there is potential there. From what I can tell, the Starks have almost exclusively married into Northern families for Force only knows how long. It's amazing they haven't become as inbred as the Targaryens after all these years. Ned marrying Catelyn was good in terms of introducing a bit of diversity into their line. Robb's thoughts are already becoming centered around her. And Talisa at least finds him cute, bordering on handsome despite being a few years older than him. Perhaps a little push…but nothing invasive. Arranging circumstances so that the two of them work near each other shouldn't be too hard if she stays in Winterfell. I'll just have to keep her academically stimulated enough so that she doesn't want to leave. And then, I'll merely step back and let nature take its course. The main trick will be in helping Talisa prove her worth to the Lords of the North so that they don't throw a bitchfit over another foreign Lady Stark.'

"Do you think there really is a metal out there? I'm mean, here in the North that could rival Valyrian steel?" Robb asked, the excitement in his voice plan for all to hear.

"Possibly," Nox shrugged. "But just finding the ore will be half the battle. The other half will be trying to figure out how to smelt and form it into something usable."

"What do you mean?" Jon asked, his head titled slightly to the side. "Shouldn't we just be able to use the blast furnace to melt the metal down and the-"

"Oooooooowhooo!" The howl cut off Jon and froze all conversation as the five occupants of the tent all looked as one towards the tent flap.

"That was a wolf's howl." Wyman commented, his face set in a heavy frown. "But wolves never come this close to such a large group."

"Oooooowwwhhhoooo!" Reaching out through the Force, Nox was nearly knocked back a step at what he found.

"That is no ordinary wolf," Ned stated, throwing open the tent flap and marching out into the night.

Following Ned out of the tent with Robb and Jon quickly behind him and Wyman lumbering to keep up, Nox followed the Warden of the North as he made his way through the camp towards its edge. The howling had not gone unnoticed by the rest of the camp, many of whom, still anxious after the fight with the Wildlings earlier that day, were holding whatever weapons or clubs they could get their hands on and looking around wildly trying to find the source of the howling. As they reached the edge of the camp line, they were met with Ser Jory and a handful of Stark men at arms.

"Lord Stark," Jory said, his eyes scanning out over the dark landscape.

"Jory," Ned replied, holding his hand out to stop everyone from following him. "Everyone put your weapons down. Now. No one make any sudden or unnecessary movements."

Many of the Northmen looked quizzically at one another, but their loyalty to their Warden won through their confusion and they slowly lowered or sheathed their weapons. Once satisfied, Ned marched out several paces from the camp before kneeling on the ground. Nox wasn't sure which part of what happened next shocked him more. The fact that he could sense Ned reaching out through the Force for something or someone, or the fact that whatever he'd been reaching out for responded in a gentle probe of its own.

"By the Old Gods!" Jory gasped while the men of the North involuntarily took a step back as the creature that was making the noise stepped out of the darkness and into the light of the camp. "Is…Is that—?"

"A direwolf." Nox answered the unfinished question before reaching up and slapping down the crossbow of the Stark man that had come up next to him. "Your Lord said to lower your weapons. Try that again, and I'll shove it so far up your ass that you'll be able to lose that bolt out of your mouth."

Out in the field, Ned remained perfectly still as the pony-sized direwolf cautiously approached the line of humans. "That's the same wolf from near the Wildling camp!" Robb said excitedly, moving to join his father only to be stopped as Nox held out a hand in his path.

"Now is not the time to interfere," Nox stated calmly, keeping Robb and Jon back as the direwolf came within a single pace of Ned before stopping.

No one in the camp said a word or even seemed to breathe as they all watched the Warden of the North hold out his hand towards the head of the direwolf. A head that was easily as large as a man's chest. The wolf inched its snot to within an inch of out of the outstretched palm and then…licked his hand.

"You Starks just keep managing to surprise me over and over again," Nox said quietly to himself as he felt the feather light touch of a bond forming between the patriarch of the Stark family and the near horse-sized wolf standing before him. And then, as if that wasn't odd enough, a light yipping noise came from behind the wolf as six small wolf pups pranced out from around their mother to greet whoever she'd led them to. "Well, that certainly isn't something that you see every day."