Back again folks. Sorry for the week delay in getting this out, but, eh, life. But a lot of the bs I was dealing with is past now…so hopefully I'll be able to concentrate just a bit more on writing and not on other things. Not much to honestly say other than my update schedule will continue to once every 4-5 weeks given my preferred chapter length.

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 If you have any direct questions you want to ask me, please PM me as I am not the greatest in responding directly to reviews, but please still review lol. I like hearing from all of you!

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 22

Walking into the godswood alongside his brother Robb and father, Jon Stark could do little more than wonder just why his Master had asked to speak privately with them. Ever since they'd returned to the North, he noticed that his Master had been…well, almost reclusive. It wasn't noticeable to most, or pretty much anyone for that matter as Lord Nox kept his normal routine. But Jon noticed that there was almost a sort of…detachment to him while he was going through his day. Jon could only hope that whatever it was that'd been bothering his Master would be brought into the open today. For if there was one thing he knew was not good, it was when there was a situation that sent even a man like his Master into a brooding mood.

Coming to the center of the godswood, Jon was mildly surprised to find not only Master Nox at the base of the weirwood tree, but his wife, Lady Nyra Nox, was also sitting next to him, the two holding hands with one another. However, even more surprising than her presence was the pensive look on her face as the two sat beneath the weirwood. Apparently, Lady Nox was just as in the dark about her husband's mood as the rest of them were.

"Ned, Robb, Jon," his Master called out in greeting as the three of them approached, making Lady Nyra jump slightly as she apparently had been so engrossed in her Lord husband that she hadn't even noticed their approach.

"Nox, Nyra," Jon's father greeted the two of them as they both rose to their feet. "You said that you had something urgent that needed to be said, Nox. What is it? Another vision of the future?"

"No," Master Nox said, shaking his head. "The future is important, but it is not what I wish to speak of today. Rather, I would speak of the past. My past."

Confusion and excitement warred within Jon. Jon knew of his Master's past… Well, as much as he'd shared of it anyway. He knew that his Master came from a land far away, further than Asshai and Yi Ti. And that the land he came from was much more advanced than Westeros. But outside of those facts, little else was known about Master Nox's homeland.

"Have you heard word from your homeland?" his father asked. "Or have you perchance seen something that would lead you to believe that those of your home are coming to Westeros?"

"No," Nox said, shaking his head. "As I said before, there is little to no chance of my people ever finding me or this land. But I've never truly explained just why I know this for a fact. The reason why I've always neglected explaining though is not out of malice or a desire not to explain my homeland. But rather it is because I doubted that any of you would believe me when I spoke of my past and where I came from. I still believe that. But I believe that I found a way to…show you my past rather than just tell it to you."

"Show us your past? How?" Jon heard himself asking before realizing it.

"By using the weirwoods," Nox explained, waving a hand towards the ancient tree that'd stood since the founding of Winterfell. "These trees are…unique. In all my travels I have never seen anything like them that occurred naturally. They act as conduits to the Force. If they serve a specific purpose, I have not found them yet and doubt I ever will. But right now, I believe that I can use the weirwoods as a stage of sorts, much like a mummer's show. And my memories will be the play you will be watching."

Jon was nearly shaking with excitement with the idea that he would not only be hearing but seeing Master Nox's past. And by the looks of it, Robb was just as excited. But their father did not appear to share in their excitement as he just continued staring at Nox. "Why do this now? Especially if, as you say, there is little to no chance of those of your past catching up to you?"

"Two reasons," Nox stated, holding up two fingers to emphasize his point. "First. I wasn't sure if this would even work in the first place. I'm still not entirely convinced that it will work exactly as I hope, but I believe I can make this technique work. Second, is trust. Dark times are coming. Times that will put our faith and trust in one another to the test. And if my past remains clouded in shadows, there will be those that will try and use that to put a divide between us."

Sharing a look with his brother, Jon took a step forward. He trusted his Master as if he were family. And while he doubted that anything his Master could show him would change that, he wouldn't say that he wasn't curious about how Nox was raised and trained. All he knew was that the training his Master went through was brutal and fatal to those who were deemed not strong enough to become Sith. "What do you need us to do, Master?"

"You all don't need to do anything besides placing your hands on the trunk of the weirwood," Nox replied, gesturing for them all to take a step forward. "I'll be doing all the work from here on out."

Swallowing past the lump forming in his throat, Jon stepped forward and placed his hand against the weirwood tree along with his father, brother, and Nyra. "Well," Nox said, placing his hand against the tree last. "Close your eyes, reach out with the Force…and get ready for a ride."

Jon didn't have to wait long to figure out just what his Master meant by the strange saying, as the moment his eyes closed, he felt something almost pull him forward even though he knew he was standing still. The next thing he knew he was no longer in the middle of the godswood with his hand on the weirwood. Instead of the trees and hot springs, the space around him was filled with nothing but darkness. But before he could question just what was going on, his father suddenly appeared next him, making Jon take a step back in fright as his brother quickly appeared next followed by Lady Nyra and then lastly Nox.

"By the gods," his father breathed, looking around wildly at the darkness that surrounded them. "Nox…where are we?"

Stepping forward, Jon watched as Nox raised his hand. The darkness surrounding them almost seemed to…shift. Moving as if it were water as it flowed around his Master's outstretched hand. "Physically we are all still standing at the base of the weirwood in the Winterfell godswood. Spiritually or mentally however, that's complicated. But suffice to say we are standing within my mind…sort of. Or rather yet, my mind that is being displayed through the flow of the Force that is passing through the weirwood tree. Now…let us see if my theory proves true or not."

Hearing a gasp, Jon could do little more than gape as the black mist around them seemed to almost…come together to form trees and dirt and walls. In the time it took Jon to blink, the darkness that'd been surrounding them was replaced by the godswood and Winterfell. "Well, that works," Nox stated, his head tilted skywards, which was still the same fluid darkness. "I'm not entirely sure just where to begin with all of this… So, let's just dive right in the deep end, shall we? This, as you all know, is Winterfell and this," the world around them seemed to rush past them, and suddenly the group no longer found themselves standing in the midst of the godswood, they were now standing amongst what should've been the clouds looking down on the land. "And this is the North."

The land shifted against as they seemed to travel even higher…or perhaps it was more that the land beneath their feet got smaller as more and more of the Seven Kingdoms and then the land beyond became visible to them. "This is all of Westeros. And over there is Essos. Sothorys. The lands beyond the Jade Sea and the Sunset Sea. All the land masses that make up this world. Yet across them all, you will find no trace of my home or the Sith Empire. And that is because neither belong to this world."

Jon was so busy marveling at the sphere below their feet containing all of the land he'd seen and most he'd only ever read of that the meaning behind his master's words took several long moments to actually register in his mind.

"Wait," Robb called out, forcing Jon to look away from the land below them and to his brother. "How can the land you were birthed in, and the Empire you claimed to have served, not exist? Was it…Was it all a lie?"

"No," Nox answered calmly. "I have never outright lied to any of you. I said, that neither the Sith Empire nor my place of birth are on this world." The next Jon knew, the very stars were rushing past them like arrows as their home disappeared. When everything around them stopped moving, they found themselves staring at…a sphere that looked almost exactly like the one that Nox said contained the North and the rest of the lands they knew. "This world is not the one you know that contains the North. This world is one known as Dromund Kaas. The world upon which I was born into slavery within the Sith Empire."

The full implication of what his Master was telling him started to dawn on Jon. But. No. That – It simply wasn't possible. Was – Was it?

"Alim…" Nyra breathed softely, staring down at the…world before them with wide eyes. "Are – Are you saying that…?"

"Aye," Nox nodded. "I am not of this world. And the Sith Empire is in fact an Empire that spans hundreds of worlds like your own."

Turning towards his father and brother, Jon saw that both were staring in disbelief at first Nox, and then the world that was slowly turning before them. "How is such a thing possible?" Their father asked. "Are…Are the gods truly so powerful to create life amongst the stars?"

"I'm the wrong person to ask about religious ideology outside of the Force, my friend. I've seen hundreds of different religions worshipping hundreds of different gods in almost as many ways," Nox shrugged. "But there is more life out amongst the stars than you can possibly imagine. What you know as your 'sun', is a star. Just like all the other stars you see in the night sky. And just like your own, most of those stars have planets surrounding them. And on some of those planets, there are lifeforms that call them home. Even the Empire and the Republic, the two major powers in the known galaxy – combined – have only explored perhaps little over half to maybe two-thirds of this galaxy. And given the sheer size of the galaxy, it takes a century to explore any unknown region of space. Which is why I am so positive that neither the Empire nor the Republic will ever find this world as it lies within what we consider the unknown region of space. The likelihood of either major power within the galaxy finding this world anytime soon is akin to stumbling across an island the size of a needle point without a map in the middle of the Sunset Sea. But this also means that I cannot leave this world either. Which means that this place is now my home until the day I die."

There was a note of…almost sorrow in the way his Master said that. And Jon believed that he had an idea about just why that was. There was…so much out there. And his Master was once a part of it. And now, he can no longer be a part of it. Seeing movement to the side, Jon remained silent as he watched Nyra approach Nox and slowly slip her hand into his. "But stargazing isn't all that I brought you here for," Nox said, though Jon noted that his hand did not leave the hold of his wife. "This is a lot to take in, I know, and all of you are more than likely wondering if I'm just trying to pull one over on you. So, it's time to take you through some of my memories of the galaxy."

Again, the darkness around them swirled and Jon felt as if the very ground, or whatever it was, that they were standing on lurch as they suddenly found themselves inside of some steel contraption of sorts. "By the gods old and new…"

Hearing Nyra, Jon turned and followed the path of her eyes…and found himself staring at what could only be a small version of Master Nox. He was…young. Very young. Perhaps Jon's own age or maybe just slightly older. But what was truly strange was the fact that his hands and ankles were bound with chains and there was a strange type of collar around his neck. 'A slave collar,' Jon realized, a pit of dread forming in his stomach as he noticed that his Master wasn't alone. There were five others similarly bound and sitting next to his Master.

Before anyone could say anything, there was a hiss as part of the wall lowered like a jaw bridge allowing a bright, almost blinding light into the small metal carriage where his Master and the others were sitting. But despite the sudden brightness, Jon didn't feel any discomfort on his eyes. In fact, everything seemed just as clear now as it did a moment ago, there was just a…warmth to everything now. "You are seeing the world as I see it," Nox explained as several large, armored men marched into the carriage and started undoing the chains that were binding those within. "That is the only reason why you can see everything around me. A normal memory would be limited to your visual range. But for me, my visual range is limited only to how far I reach out with my senses through the Force. Though the farther I reach out the fewer details I'm able to obtain."

Gaining a new appreciation for the way in which his Master used his sight, Jon watched with his father, brother, and Nyra as the younger Nox and the others were led out of the strange carriage and onto some sort of metal dock like structure. As they were being led forward, Jon noticed another man standing in the shade of a building with a strange marking over one of his eyes and talking to a man in black robes. As they approached, the man in the robe bowed and then left without a single backwards glance towards them.

"Welcome to Korriban, birthplace of the Sith and home to the Sith Temple," Nox explained as the man with the strange mark over his eye started degrading Nox and those who'd come forward with him. "While I appreciate the fact that Korriban weeds out the weak…it is wasteful in how it goes about the process. What you are watching here is the introduction of six Force sensitive acolytes to their 'Overseer'. The one responsible for their training while in the Temple. In truth, this part is little more than survival of the fittest. And in the end, only one of the chosen acolytes will remain alive."

Jon watched with no small amount of dread as the world around them almost seemed to race them by. He watched as his Master fought his way through a dark cave filled with people and…strange creatures trying to kill him before coming out the other side and entering what Jon could only assume was the Sith Temple his Master spoke of. The place was massive and unlike anything Jon had seen before. He doubted that even the Valyrian Freehold during the peak of its reign could match what he was looking at now. Unfortunately, he had little time to marvel at the structure as his Master's past self strode quickly through the halls only stopping once he reached a room that had the strange man with the marking on his face that he saw back on the dock.

The strange man wasn't the only one there. The rest of those that'd arrived with his Master were there as well, as was the man that was wearing the black cloak. When the man in the cloak turned to face them, Jon took an involuntary step back with his brother and father doing the same as he. The man in the cloak was…gods could he even be considered a man? He looked more like a demon from one of the hells. His skin was red and he had what look like red horns that were part of his flesh and protruding from where his eyebrows and chin should have been.

"This…despicable piece of filth was named Ffon," Master Nox stated as Jon watched the man with the strange tattoo berate the others before singing the praises of the strange devil-like creature. "He is from a race of beings known as Pureblooded Sith. One of the two dominant races of the Sith Empire. Now, you don't really need to see what happens next…Suffice to say, my training was not pleasant and I will not be using the exact same methods with all of you. So let us skip forward a bit to show you another species, as well as the one who would be perhaps my first and one of my most loyal of friends."

The world shifted once more, and when it stopped, they found themselves standing in a large cavern on yet another metal bridge. Standing just before them was the young Master Nox. And…floating in the air covered in a strange light was a creature that Jon had no words to describe. It was…positively massive. He'd never seen the Mountain-Who-Rides, but he was sure that even the monster of House Lannister would be considered small when compared to this beast. "This is Khem Val." Nox explained, waving towards the beast hanging in the air. "He's part of a species known as a deshade. And before you ask, yes. He is just as deadly as he looks. It wasn't easy winning over his allegiance. But once I had, he quickly became my first true friend and most loyal protector. Now, I've shown you a few different species outside of humans, so let us progress to something quite a bit different, shall we?"

The darkness swirled, swallowing the cave and everything around them before dissipating once more. When Jon could see once more, his eyes nearly bugged out of his head. All around him were lights and, buildings and…and gods. Structures that he couldn't even put a name too that reached higher into the sky than even the Hightower in Oldtown. It was a city…a city that stretched further than his eye could see. It was…incredible! And all around them there were metal carriages flying through the sky!

"Welcome to Nar Shadda." Nox explained, waving his hand around the landscape. "Technically a moon, but that doesn't really matter much. But this is an example of the technological prowess of some planets. There is only one large city in the entire universe, and that is Coruscant. The central hub of the Republic. The city spans across an entire world and has built on top of itself repeatedly over thousands of years to the point where it is now impossible to actually reach the ground of the planet."

'And here I thought that King's Landing was a large city!' Jon marveled, looking around at the sprawling metal monstrosity of a city laid out around them. It was…incredible! Looking at his brother, he could tell that Robb was thinking along the same lines as he as they watched all sorts of different people, most of whom didn't look anything remotely like them, walking around and living their lives just as they did here in the North. But when Jon turned to his father, the elation within him died slightly as he noticed the pensive look on his father's face as he went back and forth between everything around them and Nox.

"You must think so little of us, coming from a place where…this is possible." Jon had never heard his father sound so…defeated before.

"There are some, well, many who would think less of you and your people due to your current level of advancement, but I am not one of them." Nox answered, sweeping his arm through the air in a wide gesture. "You see the lights, the technology, the advancement of society. But what you do not see is the fact that sentient beings have not progressed much since we reached this planet's level of advancement. War. Politics. Baser sentient instincts. All that which you can consider to be the 'game of life' that is played. Our technological advancements haven't changed any of that. The only thing that has changed is the board upon which we play the game of life."

The darkness swept through them, taking away the city of metal towers and buildings. The next few images passed by so rapidly that Jon barely had time to truly comprehend what each one was before they were forced to move on. He saw a field of battle with men carrying large crossbow like weapons that shot bolts of fire instead of arrows. There was a meeting of what looked like a Small Council with his Master being one of those in attendance. There was a quick scene back to the city of lights and metal where scantily clad women and men were vying for the attention and coin of those who passed them by on the streets. There was a brief glimpse of what looked like a family making their way through a desert while staying close together to protect themselves from the harsh sand. And while the background might be far different than anything he had ever seen, or perhaps ever will, what was going on was not new or surprising to Jon. What they were seeing was just simply…people living out their lives. Just as Master Nox had said. The people he came from, the Empire as he called it, were far more advanced than anything Jon could ever imagine. But in the end, they were still just like the people of Westeros.

Without warning, the visions ended as the darkness swirled in once more and Jon felt another strange pulling sensation on his mind. And the next he knew he was opening his eyes and standing once more in the godswood of Winterfell with his hand pressed firmly against the weirwood.

"Alim!"

Hearing Nyra's cry, Jon turned quickly and found his Master down on one knee before the weirwood. "I'm alright," his Master said, waving off Jon and the other's while Nyra knelt next to him. "That…that took quite a bit more out of me than I was expecting. But it is nothing that I haven't endured before. I just need to sit for a few minutes to recover. And seeing as how I know all of you have a lot of questions about what you just saw, so you best get them out of your systems now while I'm incapable of avoiding them."

Saying that Jon had a lot of questions was an understatement. The problem was that he didn't know which question to ask first! His father took the initiative and spoke up first while Jon was still trying to figure out just what he wanted to ask. "You've avoided truly answering just how you arrived in the North ever since we brought you into our halls. And now I understand just why you did so. But now with the facts you have given us; I would ask you how and why you came to the North."

"The how should be obvious, I came here on a ship," his Master answered calmly.

It took Jon a moment to fully realize just what he said, but when he did, he felt a jolt of excitement race through him. 'Lord Nox has – He has one of those carriages that can fly through the air and sail across the stars! But, if he has one, then why hasn't he used it or at least shown it to us yet? That…ship…alone would've been more than enough to convince us of his past.'

"I take it that this…ship…of yours is destroyed?" his father asked, making Jon realize that he was more than likely correct.

"It isn't necessarily destroyed," Nox replied, bringing the jolt of excitement back to Jon. "However, I did crash land. And in doing so pretty much destroyed the ship. What's left of it is sunk at the bottom of a lake not too far from where I first came across Jon and yourself all those years ago. The ship is still there as far as I know. It's nothing more than scrap metal. But perhaps if it will help to confirm my words, then we can go and retrieve it. Though, what we would do with it beyond scrapping it is up to you."

"Can you create more of those…flying carriages made of steel?" Robb asked eagerly. "Or those crossbows that fire bolts of fire and can pierce through armor?"

To this, Nox shook his head. "Unfortunately, no. If I had the parts and the means to do so, I would've created blasters or airships years ago. But the unfortunate truth is that this world is nowhere near ready to create any of those things. And it will be centuries, perhaps a millennium or more before this world reaches that level. Unless of course there is a significant amount of outside interference. But that's unlikely. But don't think that I've been holding back. I've been doing everything I can to help advance this world. The only problem is…everything is too simple."

That…confused Jon. And judging by the looks on everyone else's face, they were just as confused as he by that statement. If something was 'simple', shouldn't it be easy to accomplish? "I can sense your confusion," Nox stated. "So, let me clarify. The common person in the Empire can do complicated logarithmic mathematical equations in their head that would dumbfound even the most learned of Maesters on this world. The steam engine, the printing press, your methods for making glass. All these great advancements that I am showing you have not been commonplace in the greater galaxy for perhaps over twenty-five thousand years. So, while the idea behind the process is simple, making the jump from idea and design to creating the devices has been proving to be…difficult. That is why I have been relying so heavily on Luwin, Sam, and now Talisa to act as a 'bridge' between design and creation. I can provide the theories and designs. But I need others to help take those ideas and rework them into something that is feasible for this world. And while we are making great strides towards advancement, it will still take a long, long time for this world to catch up to the rest of the galaxy. Having said that though, there are a few things which I was planning on introducing to help speed up the process of advancement."

That made some amount of sense. From what he'd seen in the few brief glimpses Jon had seen of the realm from which his Master came from, they were so far advanced that what they considered normal occurrences where something that could only occur in one's wildest imagination here in the North. He now had a far greater appreciation for his Master's teachings outside of the sparring ring and outside of the Force. He couldn't imagine just how difficult it was for his Master to try and teach them what he knew. It would be akin to Ser Barristan the Bold trying to teach an infant who hadn't even taken it's first step how to be an expert swordsman.

"What are these 'few things' that you planned on introducing to help further our advancement?"

Jon was somewhat surprised by the almost eager tone his father had in his voice. It was no great secret that the North did not change fast. In fact, the past decade had seen more changes to the North than all the time since before the Targaryens came to Westeros. He knew that more than one of the Lords were not necessarily thrilled with how fast things were changing. But as it was Lord Stark leading the charge for change and the fact that said changes were a huge boon to the North, those complaints stayed mostly to the shadows and had all but disappeared after the failed assassination attempt at Master Nox's wedding feast.

With the aid of his wife, Nox regained his footing. "We need to move forward with new manufacturing techniques. I've already started drawing up the designs to create a rudimentary lathe, though I'm not entirely sure just how well it will work. We also need to work on a process for rolling thin sheets of steel. And we need to get that geological analysis from the location Talisa deciphered in the Valyrian journals. And, perhaps easiest of all, we need to develop a standardized unit of measurement that will be universal across the land. In short, we've got a lot of work ahead of us if we're going to truly jumpstart the advancement of this world."


Stepping off the gangplank and onto the shores of White Harbor, Princess Arianne Martell, daughter of Prince Doran Martell and his heir clutched tightly at the heavy furs that were draped around her shoulders. Even in a city as large as White Harbor, which looked to be larger than even Sunspear, the cold of the North was unavoidable and unrelenting. Thankfully, the voyage had given her time to start acclimating to the cold of the North. But still, she honestly did not know if she would ever truly get used to just how cold it was. And it wasn't even winter yet! Just this morning she could see her breath on the air, something she had only ever heard about.

"Better get used to the cold, my dear niece. We'll be guests of the North for perhaps a moon turn or even more pending how certain…things progress."

Glancing behind her, Arianne resisted the need to curse as her uncle descended from the ship behind her. Despite the cold air, her uncle seemed completely at ease in only a pair of long pants and a snake-skin leather overcoat. "And those things are none of your concern, Uncle Oberyn," Arianne replied with a turn of her head and flicking of her hair.

To her overwhelming surprise, her Uncle had barricaded her into a cabin with himself and his paramour less than a week's turn after they left Sunspear. Once alone, Oberyn told her that he knew exactly why she was so adamant about coming North. Or more precisely, about who she was coming to see. The fact that her Uncle knew of her plans sent her stomach plummeting to the floor. Because if Oberyn knew, that meant that her father knew as well. But instead of trying to dissuade her from pursuing Jon, he encouraged the action. Which was certainly not what she'd been expecting. Of course, he didn't just leave it at that. No, that would've been too simple an act for the Red Viper of Dorne. Instead of saying his piece and leaving, her Uncle and his paramour then spent the next near half day going into very explicit detail about how she might be able to catch and keep Jon's attention. By the time she finally managed to escape their grasp, she was positive that her face would be permanently red from embarrassment. While she did intend to use some of their suggestions, most of the rest ranged from the downright obscene to what she was sure to be anatomically impossible. Though she had assurances from her Uncle and Ellaria that everything they suggested she do, they had already done. Which of course only made it all the worse as she immediately started picturing her uncle and his lover in each suggested action they'd given to her.

Her uncle's paramour, Ellaria Sand, as well as her cousins Obara, Nymeria, and Tyene, with her uncle's squire Daemon coming down last. Of the four women, only Obara seemed even remotely comfortable in the cold of the North as her eldest cousin took after her father in wearing only light leathers while the rest had donned more furs than even Arianne had. "Gods, how does one get used to such cold?" Nymeria asked as she joined Arianne on dry land. "Though…the scenery isn't all that bad."

Following her cousin's desire filled gaze, Arianne quickly found what had stoked a fire within her cousin. Working on the docks were a fair number of Northmen who, despite the cold air, were stripped of their shirts and wearing only their britches. It was…quite the sight indeed. While she was attracted to the lithe frame of the men of Dorne for the most part, she certainly appreciated the robust build of the Northmen. Especially when they lifted crates equal in size to themselves with seemingly no difficulty at all. For just the briefest of moments, she allowed herself the idle fantasy of Jon working in such a manner before shaking her head to clear herself of such thoughts. 'There is a time and place for such thoughts,' she reasoned as she noticed a group of armed soldiers making their way across the pier, the people of White Harbor hurrying to give them a path as they walked. 'And it is not now. Now I need to focus.'

As the last of the Northmen between the Dornish and the approaching guards cleared away, Arianna noticed a familiar face at the forefront of the men coming to meet them. "Ser Wendel," Arianne called out while plastering a smile on her face and losing her hold on her furs, the last thing she wanted or needed was for the Northerners to think her some soft southern flower who couldn't stand a little cold air. "It is good to see you again, good ser."

The heavy-set knight and son of House Manderly smiled at her greeting of him, his thick walrus-like mustache twitching as he did. "Princess Arianne," the man greeted her cordially with all the courtly manners she'd come to expect from the House that perhaps had the most dealings with Dorne in the North. "Prince Oberyn. It is an honor to welcome you both to White Harbor and the North. My father, Lord Wyman, has prepared rooms for all of you in New Castle so you might rest before continuing on your way to Winterfell."

"A bed on solid ground would be very much appreciated after so long at sea, Ser Wendel," Arianne smiled at him, taking a step forward so that she was within reach of him. "Please, lead the way, good ser."

Ser Wendel nodded before stepping aside and motioning for his guards to make way. Stepping up beside the large man, Arianne delicately took his arm and allowed him to guide them across the docks and towards the walls that separated the city itself from the docks. As they walked, Arianne couldn't help but notice a small grouping of people that were gathered near a single large building that was nestled against the wall. While the gathering wasn't surprising, the people within said gathering were. Especially because a fair number of them had very specific marks on their faces. Marks that she had only seen once during her brief venture to Essos with her mother when she was still but a girl.

"Ser Wendel," she said, keeping an eye on the group of people. "If you will forgive my curiosity, I would like to inquire about that group of Essosi slaves I see there."

"There is no need to ask for forgiveness, Princess. They are free men and women who have left their lives of slavery behind and are now seeking to make a new life here in the North," Ser Wendel answered her without hesitation.

'Freed slaves. Either because they escaped or they were willingly set free,' Arianne thought, still keeping an eye on the former slaves as they passed them by. 'Either way…it is dangerous to take them in. The slave masters are not known for their mercy to slaves who have escaped them. Or those who helped them escape. Though, I suppose with them being here in the North, the distance between them and the slave states is their primary protection.'

"Freed slaves, hmm?" her uncle asked, giving the former slaves a thorough examination before their sight was obscured by the walls of White Harbor. "Nox made far better use of his time in Essos than I thought. But even if he set the groundwork, he would need a direct hand…Ah! I see. Very clever of Stark and Nox, using an exile like that. Very clever indeed."

Blinking, she felt Ser Wendel stiffen slightly under her touch at her uncle's comment. Frowning, she racked her brain trying to piece together what her uncle had figured out so quickly. 'If I remember the stories Uncle told me of Nox, he spent time in Braavos and Volantis before heading to Valyria. Their stays weren't long…but they were long enough for Nox to employ spies or agents for himself. But how does he communicate or control them? And what is this about an exile? There have only been two individuals that've been exiled from the North as far as I know. Ser Jorah Mormont and House Bolton's hei – oh. That's how it is. They're using the ones who've been exiled as their point of contact for whatever spies or agents they have in Essos. But what are they offering them for their loyalty? Pardons? No. That's unlikely. The North is well known as perhaps the most unforgiving of lands in terms of those who break the laws. So, how are Nox and the Starks keeping their loyalty?'

"Forgive me for saying, Prince Oberyn, Princess Arianne. But this matter is of no consequence to those outside the North." Ser Wendel's tone had gained a cold edge that Arianne had not heard from the large man before.

"As you say, Ser Wendel," her Uncle conceded quickly. "If you Northerners want to free slaves and give them a home, Dorne shall not stand in your way. But just know that we will also not stand in the way of the Masters of Essos when they come looking for those that they consider to be their property. And from my time in Essos, I can tell you that the Slave Masters can be relentless, creative, and brutal."

The smile Ser Wendel gave her uncle was almost sinister. "And we of the North can be just as relentless, creative, and brutal in defense of those we consider our own. Just ask the Maesters."

'And the dragons,' Arianne thought, finishing the unspoken part of Ser Wendel's promise. Though considering he was standing with her Uncle, his daughters, and herself, he was wise to not bring up what happened during the Usurper's Rebellion, especially what happened at the end of it. The rest of their walk passed in silence as Ser Wendel expertly led them through the winding streets of White Harbor and to the main doors that would take them into New Castle, the ancestral seat of House Manderly since they'd been forced into exile from the Reach. As they passed into the castle, Arianne couldn't help but take note of the men standing guard. They were clothed in heavy cloaks made of blue-green wool and they carried silver coated tridents of all things. She knew that it was quite popular amongst the nobility to garb their house guards after the symbols of the House they served. But that almost seemed…excessive. Even to a Princess of Dorne. And certainly not an extravagance she expected to see in the cold logical land of the North.

As they entered the mermaids court, Arianne's eyes immediately turned to the almost comically large man that dominated the raised dais. 'Lord Wyman Manderly,' Arianne thought, immediately recognizing the man who held dominion over White Harbor. 'The only man in the realm whose girth can exceed that of the Fat King and the Fat Flower. But unlike those two who can barely lace their own boots without tripping over themselves, Lord Manderley's mind is sharper than most and he wields it with a skill akin to some of the greatest of all time. Even my father is weary of him.'

Once she managed to take her eyes off the Lord of White Harbor, she noticed that they were not alone in seeking an audience with the man. Standing before the dais was another young man with flaxen hair that'd been tied back and donned in leather armor. And standing beside him was a muscular woman who'd look to have seen more than her fair share of brawls.

"Huh, well, that is a face that I had not thought to ever see in Westeros," her uncle remarked quietly after Ser Wendel let go of her arm and made to return to his father's side while they waited for whoever was before them to finish their business before being introduced.

Turning her head, she eyed her uncle, who was staring at the strong looking woman with a silly grin on his face. "Someone that you 'know', Uncle Oberyn?" she asked quietly.

Her uncle's smirk never left his face as he nodded. "Yes, though not in the manner of which you might think, dear niece. That is none other than Beskha, also known as 'the Basilisk' in the fighting pits. Perhaps one of the greatest and most feared pit fighters there has ever been, other than myself. Though how she has come to end up in the North of all places is beyond me. But she seems to be with that young man there, whoever he is."

Nodding, Arianne refocused herself as the young man and Beskha both bowed to Lord Manderly before clearing the floor. "Lord father," Ser Wendel's booming voice sounded throughout the court. "I have the honor of presenting to you Princess Arianne and Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne, and the Prince's daughters and his paramour, Lady Ellaria Sand."

Walking forward with her head held high, Arianne waited until they had crossed half the expanse of the Mermaids court before bowing her head politely in greeting to Lord Manderly. While her station as a Princess of Dorne technically put her below only the royal family and therefore didn't necessarily need to show reverence to those beneath her, she had had enough dealings with the North over the past few years to know that such standing meant little here. Plus, she was trying to win over the North, or at least one person in particular. And acting like everyone was hers to command was certainly not how to go about that.

"Princess Arianne, Prince Oberyn. I welcome you to White Harbor and the North!" Lord Manderly bellowed, rising from his chair surprisingly fast for a man his size. "It is an honor and a pleasure to house the desert rose of House Martell and the Red Viper himself in our halls. Ask what you will of us, and we shall strive to meet your desires during your stay."

"Your offer is much appreciated, Lord Manderly," Arianne replied with the slightest dipping of her head. "But we will not be taking intruding upon your hospitality for long, my lord. We have business we wish to discuss with House Stark. And as such would prefer to continue on our journey to Winterfell with all haste."

"Of course, Princess," Lord Manderly replied as if he'd been expecting her response. Did he know what her goals were? Unlikely. But given what she knew of the man and what she had personally experienced with him over matters of trade, she was not willing to write the possibility off. "But it would be best for you and yours to wait to leave until the morrow with Lord Asher Forrester here who is taking a group of newly freed slaves to Winterfell. Much to the North's shame, there are still remnants of the traitorous Houses who cannot accept that their liege lords and ladies are gone. And because of this they have turned brigand and have been plaguing the barrow lands between Winterfell and White Harbor for some weeks now. Lord Stark has dispatched the Wolf Rangers to deal with them, but it will take time for them to find them all."

"A group of brigands?" her uncle asked, the same look entering his eye as it always did whenever the prospect of a new conquest or a fight arose. "Do you believe that I and my own are helpless, Lord Manderly?"

Wyman didn't hesitate in his answering. "Of course not, Prince Oberyn. Your skills are well known across the land and even if you were caught by surprise, there are only a few that could stand a chance against you in all of Westeros. But one must remember that even the mightiest of warriors can be felled by a single stray arrow in the chaos of battle. As guests of the North, your safety and that of your niece, woman and daughters is of paramount concern to us and Lord Stark."

"The offer is appreciated, Lord Manderly. And a night's rest in a bed that doesn't sway will be a nice change of pace before we head North to Winterfell." Arianne said, jutting back in before her uncle could say more and turning her attention to the young man she assumed was this Lord Forrester. "Lord Forrester, I hope that we will be able to have a pleasant journey north together on the morrow."

Surprisingly, the young Lord managed to keep his eyes on her face instead of her body as he politely inclined his head to her. 'Stupid leather and furs…I'll have to get use to this cold if I'm to use every option available to me once we reach Winterfell.' "It will be and honor and a pleasure to travel with the desert rose of House Martell and the Red Viper, Princess Arianne. Prince Oberyn."

"Good lad, you'll make a fine Lord of Highpoint after you marry Lady Gwen," Lord Manderly stated before seemingly becoming uncomfortable in the blink of an eye. "There is…one other matter that I fear must be discussed with you, Princess, Prince Oberyn. And it involves your stay at Winterfell."

Frowning, Arianne gave the Lord of White Harbor her full attention. "Is our presence a problem here in the North, Lord Manderly?"

"No, no, of course not, Princess," Wyman said hurriedly. "But…you will not be the only House visiting Winterfell during this time. I have received word from Lord Stark that Lord Gerion Lannister, who is escorting his daughter to Winterfell to be tested by Lord Nox, will be in Winterfell by the time you arrive. And he is being accompanied by a full guard and Lord Tyrion Lannister. And a majority of House Tyrell led by Lady Olenna Tyrell and Lord Willias will also be arriving in Winterfell shortly after you should you leave at first light."

Arianne froze upon hearing that. The relationship between House Tyrell and House Martell was notoriously bad, especially after her Uncle accidently crippled the eldest son and Heir to House Manderly during a joust. But they could still be in the same room with one another without trying to kill each other. The Lannisters, however…?

"The warning is appreciated, Lord Manderly, but I am not a man who loses control so easily," her uncle said with a smile plastered across his face. "And besides, it will be pleasant to speak with Gerion again. I am curious to see how well he has recovered now that he has been away from Valyria for nearly a year."

Despite his words, light tone and the smile across his face Arianne could tell that it was all an act. Her uncle was tauter than the string of a longbow at full draw. Sharing a look with Ellaria, the two women held a quick and silent talk with one another. 'I will take care of him,' Ellaria said with her eyes and actions as she stepped up next to her lover and slipped her hand into his own. Arianne could only hope that Ellaria could keep her uncle 'distracted and relaxed' enough to ignore the fact that he was in the company of the same House that saw to the death of her aunt and cousins.

"As my uncle said, the warning is appreciated, Lord Manderly," Arianne said, keeping her tone as neutral as possible to disguise her own personal distaste as having to share the same space as the Lannisters. But if her uncle could bare it, so too could she. "But we of House Martell shall honor the guest rites, even if it means we have to share space with the Lannisters."

"You have my thanks for your understanding Princess Arianne, Prince Oberyn," Lord Manderly said, clearly relieved at her stating their intention to adhere to guest rites while in the North. "Now, I have taken enough of your time. You must all be tired after such a long journey. Rooms have been prepared for each of your use and I will have a servant fetch you when the evening meal is ready."

"Thank you, Lord Manderly," Arianne replied, recognizing the dismissal and taking it in stride. "Your generosity will not be forgotten by House Martell."

Leaving the hall, it took everything in her power to keep her face blank as a serving girl led them deeper into New Castle and their assigned rooms. Learning that members from both House Lannister and House Tyrell, and not just any members but parts of the main families, would be arriving in Winterfell alongside them was making Arianne seriously reconsider parts of her plan. Which, to be fair, wasn't all that involved in the first place. Her goal and plan was to use the pretense of formalizing further trade agreements between the North and Dorne while working to make sure that she had Jon's full and undivided attention through any means necessary. Then she would start dropping little hints to hopefully lead Jon to accept the position as her future Prince Consort as part of the formalized trade agreements. It was simple and to the point, but she was sure it would work. However, the one thing that she hadn't counted on was other Houses arriving at the same time for perhaps the same reason. Which meant that she now potentially had competition for Jon's attention. Afterall, why else would those Houses be heading North in the first place?

Well, House Lannister she could understand. According to the information her uncle had, apparently Gerion Lannister had had the same type of ability as the Sorcerer but only to a far lesser degree. And that ability had been exhausted keeping the man sane in the ruins of Valyria. But there was still a possibility that his daughter that was coming North with him had magic as well. Which meant that House Lannister's presence was primarily to get the girl under Lord Nox's tutelage. And while the girl was young, she wouldn't put it past the likes of Tywin Lannister to use the girl to try and get Jon's attention. Was that Tywin's goal in sending Joy to the North? To use her as bait to gain Jon under the Lannister name? Or perhaps another of the Starks? It had to be. And based on what she knew of the man, it was exactly in line with his past actions. Absorb that which you can and destroy that which you cannot. It was the same philosophy that made the Valyrian Empire what it was.

So that explained the presence of the Lannisters. But what of the Tyrells? As far as she knew, there were no members of House Tyrell or any other Reach House that even showed the slightest of inklings towards the usage of magic. Probably because they were too busy beating themselves over their heads with the Seven-pointed star. Perhaps it was an act to save face by coming to kiss the ass of the wolves? The Tyrells did have quite a bit of mud thrown on their name after the debacle with the Maesters and them not preventing it from occurring in the first place, so it was a possibility. But such an act would not be done by the Queen of Thorns herself. No, for her and the next generation of Tyrells to all venture North meant that they were after something. 'The same thing that everyone is now after,' Arianne concluded as the servant opened the door to her room before stepping aside and allowing her entrance. 'The Stark children have become the most sought-after hands in the entire realm. Perhaps even more so than the hands of the royal family. The question is: just who are the Tyrells actually after?'


Sitting up tall in his saddle, or as tall as the saddle contraption that held him in place would allow, Tyrion Lannister did his best to keep himself from marveling at the sights around him as he, his Uncle Gerion and the contingent of Lannister men who were in formation around the small carriage containing his cousin Joy made their way through the large double walls that served to protect Winterfell under the midday sun. While he certainly did not consider himself the best military mind in the realm, he could and did appreciate fine works. Casterly Rock, his home, had never been impregnated by an invading force due to its strategic placement and the death trap that was the Lion's Maw that led into the Rock. But Winterfell, despite not having the most defensive placement in the land, was perhaps just as impregnable with the double high walls and separating moat. 'If only they could add a bit more color to the place,' he thought, trying to find any imperfection in the wonder that was Winterfell. 'I know House's prefer to keep after their House colors. But the wolves take white and grey. Such dull colors. Though I suppose it also fits with the temperament of the North.'

Making their way through the closely placed buildings that made up Winterfell, Tyrion found himself taking a breath to steady his racing heart as the main keep came into view. Though he couldn't help but be…disappointed and elated at what he found waiting for them in the yard before the keep. The disappointment stemmed from the fact that it appeared that no members of House Stark deemed to greet them upon their arrival. Lord Stark was no doubt holding court given the time of day, so his absence was understandable. But neither his heir, nor his other children were present. Some would see such a move as a slight, his father certainly being chief among them, but Tyrion figured that the children more than likely had lessons and were not able to greet them. But while he was disappointed at the lack of a Stark greeting, he certainly was not disappointed in the woman who stood before a dozen Stark guards to greet them.

Tyrion had been with more women in his lifetime than perhaps anyone else in the realm save for the king himself, so it was safe to say that he had a good eye for beautiful women. And the woman who stood before them was certainly one of the more beautiful he had ever seen. Her dress, while simple, hugged her curves in all the right places showing off her almost perfect form. Her face was flawless, and heart shaped with long dark hair that was braided elegantly and strung over one of her shoulders. And the only piece of jewelry she had on her was a single wolf broach that was pinned on her chest. 'It is far too soon for Lord Stark to have married once more,' Tyrion thought as his uncle urged his horse slightly ahead of Tyrion so he could take charge of the introductions. 'A high-ranking servant perhaps? Whoever she is…her beauty is remarkable. Perhaps a fair bit of gold might encourage her to my chambers for a night?'

But before the Lannister's could dismount and introduce themselves, the mysterious beauty beat them to the point. "Lord Gerion Lannister, Lord Tyrion Lannister. I am Lady Nyra Nox, Stewardess of Winterfell and Lady wife to the Northern Sorcerer, Lord Alim Nox.. Lord Stark apologizes for not greeting you in person but matters of the North have taken his time as of late and his children are currently in lessons with my husband, Lord Nox."

The fantasy that'd been running through his mind of taking this beauty to his chambers came to a screeching halt as her name and title reached him. 'She…She is the former serving girl who became the wife of the sorcerer?!' Tyrion thought, desperately trying to curb any inappropriate fantasy he might've had about the woman as his uncle dismounted his horse. 'I can see why the sorcerer went for her. Even though she was low born, her beauty is not something one finds every day. And from what little dealings we've had with the North and her through ravens, her mind matches her beauty. Damn it all to the Seven hells. Why do the perfect women always go for someone else? Oh, right. Dwarf.'

Undoing his legs from the harness holding him in place, Tyrion swung his legs over his saddle and expertly dismounted despite the long drop down to the ground. At least, long for him. "Lady Nox," his uncle greeted the woman as another guard opened the carriage door to help Joy dismount. "Your husband often told us tales of you on our return from Valyria. And may I say…his tales were, if anything, understating your beauty."

Lady Nyra smiled, a smile that made her even more beautiful and tempting. 'No! Stop Tyrion! No thoughts like that about her! Last I need is a jealous sorcerer on my ass for thinking about his woman!' "I thank you for your words, Lord Gerion. But I know such platitudes are expected for any woman of rank you meet. Even if she has the face that would put even a pig's ass to shame."

'And she has the wit to match her mind and her beauty! Gods damn it all the Seven hells! She's perfect! And taken!'

"Aye, they are," his uncle smirked, beckoning Joy and Tyrion forward to join him. "But in your case, they are more than true, my Lady. Now, if we have such empty platitudes out of the way, allow me to introduce my nephew, Lord Tyrion Lannister, and my daughter, Joy Lannister."

Lady Nox gave Joy a smile and a warm greeting before turning her attention to Tyrion. He expected her to react as almost all women, save for those he paid, to react to his presence. But, instead, she just smiled at him and greeted him warmly. "Lord Tyrion. It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person. I do hope the journey here was not too difficult?"

"Not at all, my Lady. But whatever difficulties there might have been were worth it to see your beauty in person." 'Damn it all, Tyrion! Stop trying to get under her dress! The Sorcerer! Remember she belongs to the Sorcerer and save yourself some pain for once!'

Her smile never left her face as she turned her attention back to Gerion and Joy. "As I said, Lord Stark is currently dealing with matters of the North and regrets that he is not here to greet you in person. But should you wish, I can either bring you to your assigned rooms or I can bring you directly to my husband who is currently training his acolytes."

It was all Tyrion could do to keep his mouth shut. A chance to watch the sorcerer's training methods?! Many a lord, his father included, would kill for the opportunity. And it was one that he couldn't afford to pass up. He'd have to write down what he saw the moment he got back to his room while it was still fresh in his mind, but it was an opportunity that House Lannister could not pass up.

Perhaps fortunately, his uncle spoke up first but with an entirely different reasoning behind his choice. "I would prefer to watch Nox's training, especially seeing as how there is a chance my daughter will soon be added to his list of acolytes for a time."

"Understandable," Lady Nox nodded before stepping aside and sweeping her arm across her body to point towards the largest tower within the walls of Winterfell. "Then please follow me, I will lead you to my husband's training grounds."

As they walked, Tyrion did all he could to try and calm his racing heart. He was about to meet the sorcerer himself! A practitioner of actual magic! Not just sleight of hand tricks that fools like to perform to amaze an audience. He could hear a steady thumbing in his ears, which he first thought to be his heart. As they rounded another building and came into view of the base of the tower, he found himself mistaken. The thumbing wasn't his heart, rather the steady knocking of training swords against one another. Yet it wasn't the training that caused the brief faltering of Tyrion's steps. But rather the who that was practicing.

There were four boys of varying age that were lined up and practicing their sword strikes against an opponent just as he'd seen Jamie and the men at arms in Casterly Rock do countless times. But what was surprising was the fact that their opponents were…well…girls. Young girls. So young that the one he assumed to be the eldest with long braided red hair looked to be only a few years older than young Joy at best. And if that wasn't surprising enough, then the fact that one of the girls, the smallest, was going against two of the boys…and winning, if he were to be any judge of it. While he was all for the empowerment of women, the idea that a young girl would not only be practicing the blade but also be good enough to hold her own against two boys her age and older was just…gods. If the sorcerer could bring out such skill in a young girl like that, then what could he do with a boy? Or better yet, just how much was Joy going to change from the shy little timid thing she now was? 'The Stark children. And one of the girls must be Stannis's daughter Shireen. Which means that one of the young men is one of the smallfolks the sorcerer had taken an interest in when he was in King's Landing.'

"Hold. Sansa. You need to keep your grip tighter. If Jon were to put some weight behind his strikes, your sword would be on the ground. Jon, stop holding back. You do your sister no good if you coddle her all the time."

Tyrion heard the names and immediately placed them as the eldest Stark girl and the Stark bastard that his father had his eyes on as the best target to acquire. But he did not focus on them as his eyes sought not those who were mentioned, but rather the one who was doing the talking. And the moment he did he felt his heart hammer and the breath freeze in his lungs. The sorcerer was a tall man with straight silver-white hair that was pulled back and tied together at the base of his neck, a black cloth covered his eyes and went through his hair, and he was certainly a comely enough man just as the bards' sang. But all that together wasn't what gave Tyrion pause. It was the aura. The man radiated an aura that demanded he be respected and listened to, even more so than Tyrion's own father. And for just the briefest of moments, Tyrion had the fantasy of seeing his father and the sorcerer square off against one another, only for his father to end up pissing his boots.

"—break for now. Then Jon will lead you lot through midday exercises before your lessons with Lady Bethany and Luwin."

Tyrion started to question whether the man was truly blind as he turned on his heel and marched directly towards their small group while easily stepping over or sidestepping any obstacle in his path. 'So, the rumors are true. He uses his magic to see where his eyes cannot.'

"Gerion, I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon," the sorcerer greeted his uncle while reaching out his hand towards them. "It seems that you have managed to recover completely from your ordeal in Valyria."

"It wasn't the easiest road to travel, but it is thanks to you that I was even given a chance to in the first place," his uncle greeted the sorcerer back, grasping his arm as if they were old friends. "You have my condolences, Nox, and you as well Lady Nox, on the loss of your child at the hands of those traitors. Had I been here, Nox, I would've been right by your side helping you punish those responsible."

It may have just been a trick, or perhaps a cold breeze, but Tyrion felt for the briefest of moments the air seemed to grow so cold to the point it was almost suffocating. 'That was…What was that?' "Your condolences are appreciated, Gerion," the sorcerer nodded, his face remaining completely devoid of any emotion, though with that cloth covering a good portion of his face it was difficult to get any type of read on the man. "And I take it that these two are your nephew Tyrion and your daughter Joy?"

"Aye," his uncle nodded, motioned for Tyrion and Joy to step up. "This is my brother's youngest son, Tyrion Lannister. And this little ray of sunshine is my own daughter, Joy Lannister."

"I–It is an honor to meet you, my lord," Joy stuttered slightly while curtseying to the sorcerer.

For his part, it was all Tyrion could do to keep his excitement out of his voice as he took his turn in greeting the man he'd been waiting to meet for years. "Lord Nox, it is…It is an honor to meet one such as yourself."

Even though it was impossible to tell where the sorcerer's eyes were pointing, for some reason Tyrion just knew that the man was looking directly at him. "Tyrion Lannister, your reputation precedes you."

"Oh? Have tales of my prowess and conquest in brothels reached all the way to the North? I'm flattered." Tyrion smirked, trying to keep his tone light and jovial.

Which was an utter and complete failure as the sorcerer just continued to stare at him. "I was referring to your love of books and the few interactions you've had with my wife via ravens. But if you prefer to be known here in the North as a whoremonger, then I won't stop you. Just know that value of the latter is much diminished compared to the former here in the North and in my eye."

Tyrion could do little more than curse his wit for potentially ruining his first impression on the sorcerer as said man turned his attention away from himself and onto Joy. "And you, young lady…Hmmm, yes. You are your father's daughter." Tyrion had absolutely no idea what was going on, and given his little slip earlier, he decided for now to keep his quiet as the sorcerer raised his hand and held his palm out a few hand lengths from Joy's face.

"Well, Nox?" his uncle asked after a few moments of silence. "Does she…?"

"She does," Nox nodded, lowering his hand. "Your daughter is Force sensitive. Perhaps not the strongest I've ever come across. But should she have the will and the drive to succeed, then in time she will become a force to be reckoned with."

Tyrion didn't need to look up at his uncle to know that he was beaming with pride. And while Tyrion did feel elated for his cousin, he still couldn't help the slight pain of regret that swelled within him as well. Now that it was confirmed that Joy had the same power as the sorcerer, that just meant that she would be even more involved in whatever scheme his father had in mind to increase the standing of House Lannister.

"You…You mean that I am like you, my lord? I–I can use magic too?" Joy's voice was full of wonder and joy. He hated the day that would come soon when the truth would be revealed to her and her joy would fade.

"Aye, you do, young lady," the sorcerer said, squatting down so that the two were on level with one another. "But I will tell you now, it is not an easy path to walk. And many before you have faltered and failed. I will push you to the point of breaking and then force you to go beyond. There will be days where you will curse my very existence and the day that your father brought you here to me to be trained. There will be days where you will be unable to lift your arms due to exhaustion or pain, but I will make you continue regardless. And at the end, when I have deemed you have learned the basics, I will have turned you into a being that even the Mountain-Who-Rides will be wary of. Do you understand, girl?"

Joy was clearly not expecting that as fear began to show on her face. But after Gerion put his hand on her shoulder, the fear disappeared, and a look of determination came over her face. "I can…and I will, my Lo – my Master."

The sorcerer's lips twitched. "We will see. Arya!"

"Yes, Master!"

The younger girl, the one that'd been sparring against two boys, separated herself from the other children and ran over to where they were standing. 'This is the other Stark girl?' Tyrion thought, giving the girl a once over. 'She certainly has the Stark look to her. And she seems to be taking to this training far better than her elder sister. Something to keep in mind, I guess.'

"This is Joy Lannister," Nox said, introducing Tyrion's young cousin. "She will be joining us in our training from here on out. Show her to her rooms in the Tower next to Shireen's. Then have her get changed and come back down immediately to rejoin the others."

Joy went wide eyed, as did Tyrion. Though, Gerion seemed like he expected it. "Umm, not to judge your training methods, sorcerer," he said, trying to let the sorcerer give his cousin sometime to rest after such a long journey. "But we have just traveled nonstop from Casterly Rock. My bottom has taken the shape of a saddle and I'm sure that—"

The words died on his lips as he once again felt the sorcerer's invisible eyes fall upon him. "It–It's okay," Joy said, her voice shaking ever so slightly. "I – I can do this. I will do this."

"Good, keep that mentality, girl. You're going to need it," the sorcerer stated as he rose to his full height. "Now, get going. I have little patience to begin with. And even less with my acolytes."

Joy gave the sorcerer one last curtsey before hurrying off after the youngest Stark girl without question. "Nox," Gerion said lowly as Joy disappeared into the tower with the Stark girl. "I – I understand what you are hoping to accomplish. But, as a father, I—"

"I understand," Nox countered, cutting Tyrion's uncle off. "You believe that she has limits. But if she is to truly become a Sith, a Force Adept, then she will have to learn to leave those limits behind. And the process to do so is…not pleasant. Though in comparison what I went through to become what I am was hell compared to what I'm putting my acolytes through. But still, there is a reason why Stark does not frequently watch his children train under my guidance. But just know that while my training might seem torturous to many, there is a reason for everything that I do."

Gerion still looked uneasy, but he nodded his acceptance. "I owe you much, sorcerer. The least I can give you is my trust in training my daughter. But I hope you understand that I will be staying for a time to make sure that she is doing alright under your tutelage."

"We expected nothing less, Lord Lannister," Lady Nox interjected for her husband. "Rooms within the guest hall have been prepared for the both of you. If you will please follow me, I will show you to your rooms and send some servants to see to whatever needs you might have."

"Thank you, Lady Nox," Gerion bowed, and sensing the dismissal Tyrion followed suit.

But just as they were turning to leave, the sorcerer called out to him specifically, "Lord Tyrion." Stopping, his heart thundering in his chest and praying to whatever gods might be listening that the man hadn't heard his wanton thoughts about his wife, Tyrion turned back towards perhaps the most feared man in all the Seven Kingdoms. "I understand that you are quite the learned man and enjoy books. Perhaps just as much as you enjoy women and wine if the stories of you are true. The Winterfell library and my own personal library within the tower are yours to enjoy while you are here. And if you wish for quiet as you read, I suggest that you visit my personal library at this time of day when I and my acolytes are in the midst of our daily training."

Swallowing, and feeling like he'd just dodged the headsman's axe, Tyrion nodded. "I will take you up on your offer, Lord Sorcerer. I look forward to perhaps seeing some of what you brought back from Valyria."

Not wanting to press his luck further for the day, Tyrion quickly turned tail and made to catch up with Lady Nox and his uncle as fast as his legs could carry him. 'Not the best introduction ever. But it was still an introduction. Now I just need to start mapping out how the sorcerer has managed to turn the North from a barren wasteland into a prosperous region in less than a decade while not stepping too far out of line that the sorcerer feels inclined to shorten me by a head… No pressure.'


Letting the cool night air of the North wash over him, Ned Stark stared out into the night sky, his eyes tracking from one star to the next as his mind raced. 'How does one come to terms with learning what I have learned?' he pondered, frowning as the same question ran through his mind that'd been plaguing him night and day since Nox revealed the truth of his origins to Ned, his sons, and Nyra. 'How does one just accept the fact that life as one knows it is but just a single grain of sand amongst a desert that is the…galaxy? The fact that there are more planets with life out there, that there are more types of intelligent beings out there than there are people in the North. And then the fact that Nox wasn't just a ruling member of a single world, because that wasn't enough. No. Nox was in fact a ruling member of an Empire that spanned dozens perhaps hundreds of worlds just like this one. How does one come to an acceptance of these facts?'

Shaking his head, Ned did his best to try and force such thoughts from his mind. Nox's revelations were amazing and frightening. But as the man had said, it was more than likely that neither his Empire nor their adversaries the Republic would ever find this world. And if they did, then Nox would do everything in his ability to protect this world and it's people from what and who was out there. So, for now, there was no reason to worry about what might happen. There were plenty of problems that were happening. And some of them far too close to home for his liking.

The most pressing issue was one that he had been informed of after returning from the south. A good number of those that were still loyal to the now disgraced and exiled Northern Houses of Bolton, Ryswell, and Whitehill had abandoned their duties and honor and had gone brigand. He'd sent out ravens calling for the men to be brought to justice, but these were no ordinary bandits looking to make quick coin by praying on travelers. These were experienced men of the North. His Lords had sent out hundreds of men trying to find them, but it was like trying to find one of Sansa's needles in a haystack. Even the Wolf Rangers had been unable to find them. Though they were able to determine that the brigands were apparently staying close to the King's Road somewhere between Winterfell and White Harbor. Which, while it narrowed down his field of search, was still several hundred miles of road and surrounding land to search. Not the easiest of tasks. But it was one that was extremely necessary considering he'd received word from Howland and Wyman that the Martells and the Tyrells had crossed into the North and were now making their way along the King's Road towards Winterfell. While he was confident that both Houses would bring enough to defend themselves, any harm that fell upon them would be placed on his shoulders. And he had enough weight on them as it were dealing with the normal issues of the North, Lannisters in his hall, and waiting for word from the Night's Watch about his overtures to the King-Beyond-the-Wall.

Hearing a knock, Ned didn't need to ask who was at his door at this hour as he'd summoned him just a short time ago. "Come in, Jon."

The door to his room opened, allowing his son in all but blood to enter. "You wished to see me, father?" Jon asked as the door shut silently behind him.

"Aye," Ned nodded, hating that he was having to resort to this. But Jon was no longer a boy. And he was the best option he had short of sending Nox himself out. "Lord Cerywn sent a raven stating that his men have found traces of the brigands making camps along the King's Road between Winterfell and White Harbor. No doubt hoping to disrupt trade between us. And while this is concerning and must be dealt with, we have another issue that has arisen because of their suspected placement. Word has reached us that both the Tyrells and the Martells have entered the North and are traveling along the King's Road towards Winterfell."

Jon caught on quickly as his eyes widened in understanding. "We have to send word."

"Aye," Ned nodded. "Lord Manderly has already warned Prince Oberyn and Princess Arianne about the danger. They are proceeding North in the accompaniment of Asher Forrester and the freed men and women sent over from Essos by Domeric. But we have been unable to send word easily to the Tyrells. There is a chance that the two groups will cross each other on the King's Road, but it is a chance that I am not willing to take. Therefore, on the morrow I am sending out all the Wolf Rangers we have currently in Winterfell south along the King's Road to ensure their safety. And I want you to lead them. Your abilities to track using the Force proved invaluable when I sent you out last time with the Rangers to hunt down the sellswords from Essos. I want you to use those same abilities to make sure that our guests arrive here safely."

Ned felt a surge of pride fill him, as well as sorrow, as Jon didn't even hesitate before nodding. "Yes, father. I will do you proud, I swear it."

Smiling, Ned placed a hand on Jon's shoulder. "You already do, son. And I know that your mother would be proud of the man that you have become."

Jon's eyes moistened at the mention of his mother, a topic that, despite now being known between them, was one that was still rarely spoken of aloud. "Thank you, father," Jon nodded, clearly fighting back the emotions warring within him as he kept himself together. "Do we have any idea about how many have turned brigand?"

"Unfortunately, no." Ned answered honestly. "Our best estimate puts their number between fifty and one-hundred. Even with all the Rangers currently in Winterfell, you will be outnumbered. But I trust in both you and the rangers to be able to handle the brigands without issue."

"Of course, father. We will handle these brigands quickly." Jon stated. It wasn't a boast, he knew his son well enough to know that he didn't boast. He was simply stating a fact.

"Good," Ned nodded, "then get some rest tonight. You'll be heading out at first light with the Rangers to bring justice to these brigands who dare defy the laws of the North."


Watching the scenery pass her by from within the comforts of her carriage, Margaery Tyrell of House Tyrell marveled at the beauty of the land. A beauty she honestly did not expect given the general view of the North that was held by most of the noble houses south of the Neck. This wasn't a land of barbarians and bloodthirsty, godless heathens. It was a land just like any other. It was wild and untamed to be sure. And the morning chill was often cold enough so that she could see her breath on the air. But it was still beautiful in its own right. "House Manderly. What is their importance to the North?"

Turning her attention away from the landscape, Margaery refocused herself and turned back to the other two occupants of the carriage she was riding in. Her grandmother, Lady Olenna Tyrell, the 'Queen of Thorns', was staring at her expectantly as she waited for Margaery to answer her question. The other occupant, her eldest brother Willias, was also staring at her as he waited for what she had to say.

"House Manderly claims the city of White Harbor as their own and hold their seat within New Castle. And have done so since their house was forcefully removed from the Reach by the Gardener Kings several centuries before the arrival of the Targaryen's. As they control White Harbor, they hold a substantial number of ships which are used for both trade with Essos and other kingdoms within the Seven Kingdoms. Their current Lord is Lord Wyman Manderly and they are staunch supporters of House Stark and their loyalty is without question. They are also perhaps the richest House, besides House Stark, in the North and the city of White Harbor is perhaps the fifth most populous city in all of Westeros."

This had been the norm for both her brother and herself ever since they'd left Highgarden. Their grandmother would pass the time by quizzing them both on matters related to Houses and politics around the realm with an emphasis on those related to the North. And while Margaery was still young, almost four-and-ten namedays, she knew exactly what her grandmother doing and why she was doing it. Her House, just like any other House, was a very active player in the Game. And their end goal, just like any other House, was to see her as the next Queen of Westeros.

But unlike most of the other Houses or Highborn girls throughout the realm, Margaery didn't want to become queen just so that she could have the title. No. She had goals and ambitions. Things she wanted to see done that she couldn't do as just a Highborn Lady of a Great House. She didn't want to just be a Queen that sat back and basked in her power and did nothing. She wanted to reach out and help those who needed help the most. She didn't want to just be another queen in Westeros's history. She wanted to be remembered along the likes of Queen Rhaenys, Queen Visenya and Good Queen Alysanne by the time her end came. But before that could happen, she had to become queen first. Which was why her and her family were currently riding across Westeros to speak personally with the eldest family in all of the lands.

The Starks held much sway in the land, perhaps more so than they even realized. Lord Eddard Stark was brothers in all but blood with the current King. And perhaps just as importantly, the Starks held the loyalty of the Northern Sorcerer. A loyalty that seemed to be absolute now that the sorcerer had taken a Northern woman, who was now the Stewardess of Winterfell, as his wife. An alliance between House Tyrell and House Stark was crucial for Margaery's family's long-term plans. If they could boast a marriage between Stark and Tyrell, then those Houses in the Reach that were starting to question her family's Wardenship would be quieted for a long time and it would also serve as the beginning of a mending of ties between the Reach and the North. Which, after recent events with the failed marriage between Ser Jorah Mormont and Lady Lynesse Hightower and the debacle with the Maester's, was sorely needed. And most importantly, by marrying the eldest Stark girl, Sansa Stark, to her brother Willias it would remove perhaps the primary competition Margaery had for the Crown Prince's hand.

While her whole family agreed with this course of action, she knew her eldest brother well enough to know that he had more than one reservation about the match. Though not for the reasons most people would assume. It wasn't that he presumed that Sansa was not good enough for him, but rather that he was not good enough for her. All because of an accident at a tourney when he had an unfortunate draw that brought him up against the Red Viper of Dorne, leaving him lame in one leg and forcing him to rely on a cane to walk properly. It was, in her opinion, a ridiculous notion. Just because he couldn't ride or fight like other men didn't mean he wasn't desirable. He was Heir to Highgarden, the future Warden of the South. And even if he wasn't a knight, he was still very handsome. She just hoped that the Stark girl would be able to look past his cane and leg and see the wonderful man that was her older brother.

Just as Margaery's grandmother was about to ask them another question, they were spared as her other brother Garlan and his squire Dickon Tarly rode up alongside their carriage. "Grandmother, brother, sister. An outrider from Castle Cerwyn has been spotted by our outriders. We should reach the Castle walls by nightfall at the latest. It would probably be prudent of us to rest for the night and continue on to Winterfell on the morrow."

Their grandmother tilted her head back in thought for a moment before nodding. "I would prefer reaching the Starks sooner rather than later. But we must be of fresh minds when we go to deal with the wolves and the sorcerer. Send a rider ahead and announce our arrival to House Cerwyn. This will be a good chance for us to feel out the waters regarding the Northern political climate after the attempted coup by those idiot Maesters and Lords. Now shoo."

Garlan, well used to their grandmother's antics, didn't hesitate before nodding and snapping the reins of his horse, spurring the warhorse back towards the front of their column. "If we wish to make a good impression on the Northmen, grandmother, perhaps it would be best for us to set up camp outside of Castle Cerwyn's walls. After all, we cannot expect Lord Cerwyn to provide for a column as large as this one with no notice of our arrival. And considering Lord Cerwyn only recently came into his inheritance after the death of his father at the attempted Northern coup, should we really be putting so much on a new Lord?" Willias stated once their brother had ridden away from them.

He did have a point. Their retinue was quite a large one. There were perhaps a dozen supply wagons filled to the brim with foodstuffs meant to be distributed during their stay as well as no small amount of coin to pay for that which they used while at Winterfell. Then there were the wagons containing those destined for the Night's Watch, both the volunteers and those who chose the Black over the block. Then there were all the guards of House Tyrell that'd come North with them to guard over them. Then they had also managed to bring along a highly sought-after group of minstrels and one of her family's favorite fools for entertainment while they were in the North. In all, their retinue consisted of perhaps close to a hundred and fifty in total. Not an extraordinary amount. But not a small one either.

"I'm sure that Lord Stark did that upon returning to the North earlier and upon learning of our coming was to inform every Lord that lies between us and them of our passing," Grandmother responded plainly. "Lord Cerwyn knows of our coming, Willias, of that I guarantee you. And better the boy learns what is expected of him now that he's a Lord sooner rather than later. And – oh for gods' sake, what is it now?"

Frowning as their carriage lurched to a stop, Margaery tried to peer out through the shuttered windows, only to see several guards in Tyrell livery running back and forth and yelling to one another. Leaning towards the door opposite from Margaery, her brother Willias opened the carriage and called out to the first man he saw. "You there! What is going on? Why have we stopped?"

The young guard, for he couldn't have been older than Willias, swallowed at being called upon as he took off his helmet and lowered his eyes. "Forgive me, milord. But Lord Garlan called for a halt. One of our outriders returned and – and he had an arrow in his back. And the other who went with him, he didn't return, milord."

Margaery felt a shiver run through her at the thought of one of their men having died and another heavily injured. 'What…Who…Bandits? Or – Or no. It couldn't have been Wildlings…could it?'

"Wildlings?" her brother asked, giving voice to her own thoughts.

The young guard merely shook his head. "We don't know, milord."

Still standing in the entrance to the carriage blocking most of her view, Willias turned his body so he was facing north with his good leg supporting his weight on the step just outside the carriage door. "Go to the front of the column and tell my brother that I want to speak with him now."

The guard blinked, then hastily nodded. "Yes, milord, I'll go th—"

With a sudden, pained grunt, the guard lurched forward and fell into her brother. "Shit! You two stay in the carriage!" Willias yelled loudly as he jumped out of the carriage, bad leg and all, and slammed the door shut. But not before Margaery got a good look at the young guard. Her heart thundered in her chest as she saw a river of red blood running down from the young man's eye, which had the tip of an arrow protruding from it.

"Get away from the window, Margaery!" her grandmother yelled, forcibly pulling her back down into her seat as five men in Tyrell livery took up positions on the side of the carriage where the young man fell.

Swallowing, Margaery tried to see what was happening outside the carriage, but between her grandmother keeping her away from the carriage windows and the men who placed themselves around them, her sight was extremely limited. She had no idea how long they sat there, neither her nor her grandmother saying a word. But eventually they heard dozens of horses galloping off into the distance as the men surrounding their carriage moved aside slightly. The door to the carriage opened, and Willias pulled himself back in before quickly shutting the door behind him once more, their guards reforming their circle the moment he was within.

"What in the hells is going on, Willias?" Grandmother asked with narrowed eyes.

"The outrider was bait," Willias answered, shooting her a sympathetic look before continuing. "He and the other he was with ran across a group of bandits a fair distance to the west. The bandits killed one, then let our other outrider survive so that he would lead them back to the main caravan. Garlan has taken a dozen of our best to hunt them down while we make haste towards the safety of Castle Cerwyn."

Margaery found herself letting out a breath of relief, but at the same time she felt a pang of fear for her brother. This wasn't the first time he'd ridden out to take care of bandits or brigands or whoever else might be threatening the land. And the only other who seemed to even be able to give Garlan a challenge in the yard or with a lance was their brother Loras. But that didn't mean she never stopped worrying for any of her brothers whenever they put themselves in harm's way.

"Good," Grandmother sighed, straightening herself. "Then let us get a move on before those idiotic fools decide to press their luck again. Honestly, attacking a caravan the size of this one with knights acting as escorts…Perhaps I was incorrect on those of the North having mostly sound minds."

Margaery had to agree with her grandmother on this point. It was foolish for an apparently small group of brigands to attack such a large train like their own. From what little she knew of military matters, when it came to brigands they preferred to only fight when the odds were in their favor and would often avoid such large numbers. So then, why did these brigands in the North attack them so readily despite being outnumbered?

Just as she was about to give voice to her question, a movement out of the corner of her eye beyond the carriage caught her attention. Turning away from her brother and grandmother, she stared off into the woodlands perhaps a hundred paces or so to the east of the Kingsroad. However, there was nothing there besides trees and grass. But as she began to turn back around, she saw it again. A dark shape amongst the tall grass near the tree line. Frowning and narrowing her eyes, she focused in on the spot. Only to have her eyes widen as a man stepped out from behind a tree with a bow in hand and an arrow drawn. As he started to raise his bow, no less than perhaps two dozen other men, all carrying bows, stepped out from behind the trees.

"There's more of them!" Margaery shouted, pointing towards the tree line just as the man she'd seen let loose his arrow, along with the two dozen others who'd stepped out of the trees with him.

She felt her brother's hands grab her by the arms just a moment before she was thrown to the floor of the carriage. A moment later, several loud thuds sounded within the carriage as the arrow's found their mark, but mercifully failed to pierce through the wood ceiling or find their way through the windows.

"To the east!" she heard her brother shout from his spot above her, his body covering her own like a shield. "All men to the east! We're under attack!"

Looking up, she saw her grandmother on the floor of the carriage next to her with Willias's arm draped protectively over her back. "Stay here and stay down!" Willias yelled as outside the carriage men started yelling and horses began crying out as steel rang against steel.

"Where do you think you are going, young man!" Grandmother shouted as Willias's weight left them both. But instead of answering, her eldest brother ducked out of the carriage before quickly shutting the door once more as he began yelling out orders to the men around him. "Bloody fool! He's not a warrior with that leg! He should leave the fighting to those who can fight properly! This is no time to be a bloody hero! Idiot! I thought he was smarter than his father!"

Margaery wanted to yell at her grandmother for talking about her brother and father so, but she held her tongue when she looked up at the woman who helped raise her. She was scared. And that, more than anything else, scared Margaery too. Her grandmother, the iron Lady of House Tyrell, was never afraid. But now, here she was, scared as the two huddled together in a carriage while around them the sounds of battle raged. Margaery had been to many tournaments in her life, so she was no stranger to the sound of steel ringing against steel or the sound of war horses running at each other. But this…? This was so much different than what she had experienced before when watching any melee or joust. This was…so much worse.

Feeling the carriage rock, Margaery risked a glance up, and immediately regretted her decision. A man, who looked to have not seen a proper bath in perhaps a moon turn or more, was peering in on the two of them. A wicked smile on his face showing his yellow crooked teeth.

"Well, well…" the man crackled, holding onto the carriage with one hand as he used the other to bring a dagger up to his mouth where he proceeded to lick the blade. "The old hag ain't much…but ya, lass…? I bet ya have a tight little cu – ahhh!"

Margaery had no idea what happened. One moment the man was standing there and the next he was…simply gone. The only clue she had to his sudden disappearance was a white blur that'd passed by the open window of the carriage where the man had been standing, along with a strange noise that was almost like a…humming sound. And—And cheers of victory as she heard the unmistakable sound of horses racing past her carriage once more. 'Has Garlan returned!? He must have! And we've routed these…these brigands!'

Summoning all the courage she had within herself, Margaery edged towards the window and dared a glance through it. She could see the men of House Tyrell racing around and chasing after some of the brigands who were now trying to flee. But she couldn't see either of her brothers. 'If not Garlan…then who came to our aid?' she wondered as she started to notice several men in thick grey cloaks mingled within the men of House Tyrell, aiding them against the brigands.

Hearing a snarl and the strange humming again, Margaery angled herself to try and see where they were coming from and felt her heart hammer in her chest. Standing amongst the men in grey cloaks and her own family's men was a young man of age with herself. He had long dark hair that was tied back behind his head in a simple braid and he was wearing almost all black. He was…very handsome in a rogue like manner. But what truly got her heart thundering was the sword the young man was using. The blade was white and – and glowing. He wielded it with a skill she had only ever seen in her brothers. But most peculiarly was the white dog that was staying close by his side.

'No. Not a dog…a wolf,' she realized, her eyes widening as she put the pieces together. 'A Stark! With a wolf and – and one of the Sorcerer's blades. For that weapon could be nothing else. And he's leading these men in the grey cloaks. And given his looks…that must be Robb Stark, Lord Eddard Stark's son and heir. But what is he doing here?'

The brigands must've realized that there was no chance of victory and began to cry out to flee. But the moment they did so she heard another shout as a new set of heavy horse steps reached her ears. Turning her head, she had to stifle a gasp and put her hand over her mouth as she watched one of the brigands get speared right through the head by a man on horseback. Following the path of the spear, Margaery felt first elation, then confusion tinged with the slightest bit of anger as she saw the man on horseback wearing all red leather armor with the sigil of a sunspear displayed on his chest. 'The Red Viper of Dorne…Prince Oberyn Martell himself. The same man who lamed my brother Willias…What is he doing here?'

Almost as seemingly as quick as the fighting started, it was ended as she watched the Red Viper of Dorne raise his bloodied spear and give off a yell of victory, which was quickly taken up by all of those outside the carriage, both of the North and those who came with House Tyrell.

Forcing herself up, Margaery ignored her grandmother calling for her to stay put and threw open the carriage door and stepped outside. She'd been prepared to see the worst… But what she saw was worse than anything she could imagine. There were dead men and even some dead women, some of whom she had talked to this very morning, laying around the various wagons and carriages that made up their convoy. 'The North respects strength, Margaery,' she told herself, forcing herself to step down from the carriage and into the aftermath of the battle. 'If I am to be queen of the Seven Kingdoms one day, I need the North to support my claim. And to do that, I need to show them that I am worthy of being their queen!'

Keeping her head held high, Margaery did her best to not openly stare at the dead around her or let her unease show as she made her way around the carriage and towards Prince Oberyn, who was now off his horse and standing beside Stark, her brother Willias, and another man with dark blond hair that she didn't recognize.

"—owe you our thanks, Prince Oberyn, Lord Jon, Lord Asher. If not for your timely arrival, then I shutter to think about what might have happened."

Margaery's steps slowed but she kept moving towards the small group, being careful to avoid any unpleasantness on the ground while she ran each name through everything she knew of the North and its people. 'Lord Jon…Not Lord Robb. But he is definitely a Stark, with the wolf and the sword he could be no other. Which means that this young man isn't Lord Stark's heir, but rather his bastard son. The Sorcerer's own apprentice and the man who at the age of thirteen managed to win a Trial by Combat against a full-fledged member of the Kingsguard. And the other, Lord Asher…I don't recognize the name. But he is definitely a man of the North.'

As she came upon them, her brother was the first to notice her, his eyes widening as he obviously wasn't expecting her to get out of the carriage. "Margaery, what – It isn't saf–!"

"Safe?" Margaery finished for her brother with a note of challenge in her voice. "I stand here before the Red Viper of Dorne, Prince Oberyn Martell. The Sorcerer's Apprentice, Lord Jon Sn – Stark, himself. And a very capable Lord of the North who I have unfortunately not had the pleasure of hearing about. What safer place could there be? And as you all are so casually exchanging courtesies with one another, I assume that it is safe to say that the threat of these brigands has been dealt with, no?"

Willias looked more than a little uncomfortable, which made Margaery stand up all the straighter. 'No wonder grandmother acts like she does and says what she says.' "My lords, this is my sister, Lady Margaery Tyrell. Margaery, this is Prince Oberyn Martell, Lord Jon Stark, and Lord Asher Forrester."

Margaery met the eyes of each man in turn. Prince Oberyn seemed to be just as charming as her brother had described him to be, and even though he was the one responsible for her brother's injury, she could not hold ill will against the man. Not when that same brother seemed so friendly with him. With Jon, she did her best to appear as strong as possible before him by not backing down and keeping her eyes firmly trained on his own. The North, and the Sorcerer especially, valued strength. So, she would give them strength. And to be truthful, it wasn't hard to keep her eyes fixed on Jon's. They were an interesting and lovely shade of color that she had never seen before. So dark, but with a tinge of coloring that she couldn't identify. Though when she went to meet the eyes of Lord Asher, she hesitated a moment as his name fully came to her. "Lord Asher, tell me, are you by chance family with Lady Mira Forrester?"

Lord Asher's head tilted slightly. "Aye, my lady. She's my younger sister."

Margaery smiled at her good fortune. Not only was she able to start impressing upon the Starks by meeting up with Lord Jon, but she would also be able to start forging a relationship with the family of her future handmaiden. "Then we shall be seeing and hearing more of each other in the future, my lord. Part of our reason for coming North was to collect your sister as she will be my handmaiden in Highgarden upon our return south."

"Oh," Lord Asher responded, blinking and clearly not sure how to follow up. "Well, that, um…It'll be good for her. Thank you for – for taking her in, my lady."

Favoring her future handmaiden's brother with a smile, she turned her attention to Jon Stark and Prince Oberyn. "Lord Jon, Prince Oberyn. Thank you both for your timely intervention in aiding us against these brigands."

"Your words are appreciated, Lady Margaery," Jon said, his voice calm yet authoritative. "It is the North who offers our apologies for this even occurring my Lady. These brigands are remnants of the Houses that attempted to usurp House Stark nearly a year ago. Instead of accepting the actions of those they served and trying to move forward, they turn brigand and we have been attempting to locate and bring them to justice for some time. It was merely ill luck that you and your family got involved. But I am heartened that we were able to arrive before too much damage was done."

"And as for myself, Lady Tyrell, I was merely out with a ride with this strapping young man here and my niece when we ran across your column just as the trap was sprung," Prince Oberyn explained.

Ever since she was young, Margaery had been taught all aspects of the game, including how to read those who played with and against you. So, when Jon's body went from relaxed to rigid at the mention of Prince Oberyn's niece, she immediately took note of the change. 'Strange. Prince Oberyn has only one niece. And that is Princess Arianne. And Jon's sudden shift at her name… There's some sort of history between the two. But what?'

"Regardless, both of your interventions were most timely and saved a good many lives her—"

"Oh, enough flattery, Margaery. Men are perfectly capable of stroking their own egos to the point of popping off. They don't need your help to get to that point."

Margaery just barely managed to hold in a wince as her grandmother approached them. While she truly loved her grandmother and appreciated her blunt honesty, she also wasn't blind to the fact that her grandmother's mannerisms had slighted more than one individual in the past. And these men were not amongst those they could afford to slight. Not when the entire purpose of this voyage was to create ties with House Stark.

"Ah, Lady Olenna Tyrell. I see that age has not curbed your tongue in the slightest," Prince Oberyn smiled, seemingly not at all surprised or put off by her grandmother's tone or words.

Her grandmother's steps didn't slow as she picked her way across the field, her twin guards taking up position beside her as she walked. "Ah, the man-whore of Westeros himself. Be careful not to stand too close to that one, Margaery. You're likely to catch some sort of rash. And you, you're a Stark, are you not? Of course you are. The wolf there speaks louder than you do." It may have been a trick of the eye, but Margaery could've sworn the white wolf near Jon's feet tilted his head in confusion as if he could understand what her grandmother was saying and didn't appreciate it. "Now, if you men are quite finish stroking each other's ego or trying to get my granddaughter to do it for you, perhaps we can move the forward so that we can speak with one another without the stench of the dead assaulting us, hm? You agree? Good. Then get moving. Margaery, we have much to talk about, young lady."

Watching her grandmother promptly turn around and leave, Margaery turned back to the others. "Forgive my grandmother, my Lords, Prince Oberyn. But today has been most trying for all of us."

"No need for such apologies Lady Margaery. If I had a copper for every time Lady Olenna has insulted me, I'd be richer than the Triarchs of Volantis right now." Prince Oberyn smiled at her. "But she does have a point. Pleasantries are best saved for when you are not straddling the dead. Care to ride back with us, Jon? I know that Arianne has been looking forward to your reunion and she would be pleased to see you sooner than she'd thought."

Again, Margaery took careful note of Jon's posture and the slightest reddening of his ears. Something had clearly happened between him and Arianne. The only question was what? And even more confusing was the fact that, unless she was severely misreading what was going on, Oberyn seemed to be almost encouraging a continuation of whatever was between them. Most peculiar.

"Of course, Prince Oberyn," Jon nodded, his unease seeming to disappear in an instant. "Lady Tyrell, Lord Tyrell. Castle Cerwyn is less than a half a day's ride north and Winterfell is yet still another half day beyond that. I know that Lord Cerwyn will offer his hospitality to us all for the night if you wish. Or we can press on to Winterfell through the night if you wish."

"Castle Cerwyn would be the better choice, I feel," her brother stated, looking around at those who were still trying to clean up after the skirmish. "We have injured and at least one of the wagons is broken. It'd be best if we don't push things too hard and take the night to recover ourselves before pressing onwards."

Jon nodded, clearly expecting the answer. "I'll send the Wolf Rangers that accompanied me onward to Castle Cerwyn to announce our arrival."

"You have our thanks, Lord Jon," Margaery said, favoring him with a smile as she decided to test something. "And we will find no insult in you leaving us to join with Lord Asher and Prince Oberyn as they return to Princess Arianne and their own retinue."

There it was again. Faint, but the signs were definitely there. The slightest twitch and the slightest turning of red at the mention of Arianne. 'He's clearly infatuated with her. But the question is whether the infatuation is returned on her end? Or is she merely playing a part to secure the Martells and Dorne the Northern Sorcerer's apprentice and permanent ties with the North? I'll have to talk with grandmother and Willias once we are out of hearing. This changes things.'

Leaving the men, Margaery quickly and quietly made her way back to the carriage where her grandmother waited. Coming to the steps, she barely gave her grandmother's two guards a passing glance as she hoisted herself up into the carriage and retook her seat directly across from her grandmother. It was only after she was seated that she noticed the thumping of her own heart beating wildly in her chest. And it was only after her grandmother took hold of her hands that she realized she was shaking.

"You did well, my dear," she heard her grandmother say. But her voice sounded like she was talking to her from across a room instead of directly in front of her. "You showed your strength to the Northmen, and a Stark no less. And you stood strong before one of the snakes of Dorne. Very well done, Margaery. Though the arrival of the Martells is one that we should be concerned with. No doubt they are here to use their brief trade relationship and the fact that the man-whore spent time with the sorcerer to try and poach one of the wolves for their own."

Taking a breath, Margaery did her best to put the aftermath of the skirmish to the back of her mind as she focused on her grandmother and the unexpected appearance of the Martells. "I–If they are here for that, then I believe I may know who they are trying to claim."

"Oh?" her grandmother responded, giving her a look Margaery knew all too well.

"I believe that the Martells have their sights set on Jon Sn – Stark."

Her grandmother leaned back in her seat and neatly folded her hands in her lap. "And what makes you think that?"

Biting her lip, Margaery took a moment to choose her words carefully. "Prince Oberyn made it a point of mentioning the presence of his niece, Arianne, several times. And each time he did, Jon reacted in a way that suggested that he…well…knew the Princess well. Just how well that is, I do not know. But something must have happened between the two of them during his brief stay in Dorne when the sorcerer and the North returned from Valyria. If the Martells are here to try and arrange a betrothal, I believe that they will try and secure one between Arianne and Jon."

Humming to herself, Margaery's grandmother turned and stared out the window at the now retreating forms of Prince Oberyn and Jon Stark. "It is a possibility. And a likely one at that. Doran hasn't betrothed the girl to anyone yet, even though she's his heir. Perhaps one of the few good traditions I can think of that come out of that wasteland. A bastard becoming a Prince Consort isn't unheard of in that land. It's been made even more feasible now that the boy has been legitimized as a full Stark. Doing so would allow them to claim the first Apprentice to the Sorcerer himself, giving them a very powerful weapon to wield in terms of not only his supposed powers, but also through his other true-born siblings. Hmmm, if the Starks and the Martells manage to formalize an alliance through marriage, it would tie yet another Kingdom to the North, giving the wolves that much more influence. Which means that securing Sansa for Willias now means far more than it did when we left Highgarden."


Sitting astride her horse with her riding skirt legs gently flapping in the breeze, Arianne Martell watched while lightly biting her lip as she surveyed the aftermath of the skirmish that had fallen upon the Tyrells. This was the first battle, or rather skirmish, that she'd ever seen outside of the melee in a tournament. And that paled in comparison to what she'd just witnessed. The brutality was just, gods, and this wasn't even a real battle. Just a skirmish at worst. "Looks like they are cleaning up any stragglers."

Turning her head, she cast a glance over to her cousin Tyene, who was sitting tall in her saddle with her blond hair flowing freely in the wind. But while her cousin appeared to be the epitome of calm, Arianne knew better. Her Uncle Oberyn, Tyene's own father, was down in the thick of the fighting, as was Obara. But Tyene was stuck here, along with her uncle's paramour Ellaria, her other cousin Nymeria and a handful of House Martell guards that had not followed her uncle into the fight. Well away from the fighting.

"That it does," Arianne nodded, her eyes searching the small mass of bodies for her uncle, trying to make sure that he was alright.

"My love is fine," Ellaria said, nudging her horse so that it was level with Arianne. "Though, I will admit that I do not enjoy the thought of him running head long into every fight he finds. It does the heart no good. But that is just who your uncle is. And it is who Obara is turning out to be as well. All we can do is have faith in their skills and trust that they will return to us. And…it looks as if our faith has been rewarded. There is my love now returning to us. And he does not appear to be returning alone, Princess."

Narrowing her eyes, Arianne quickly spotted her uncle, Obara and the few House guards that'd accompanied them into the fight. And at her uncle's right hand was a young man with dark hair wearing a black cloak and who had a pure white dog running alongside his horse. 'No, not a dog,' Arianne realized, a slight grin coming to her as the approaching group got close enough for her to start making out details. 'A wolf. A white wolf. And there is only one man who is said to have a white wolf at his command. Jon Stark. My Jon. My wolf.'

She didn't know when it'd happened, but sometime after Jon had departed from Sunspear her thoughts and feelings towards the Northern bastard had started to change. She wouldn't lie; the first that had truly attracted her attention to him was the fact that he was apparently the favored student of the Sorcerer. But after getting to know him, she found that he was so much more than just the Sorcerer's Apprentice. He was, unlike any young man she had ever met. He was more skilled, thoughtful, and intelligent than most men twice or even thrice his age. Yet he was still humble and honorable. And after some time spent apart, Arianne came to the stark realization, no pun intended, that she just wanted Jon. His powers and the political advantage he could bring to her, while still important, had gone to the back of her mind whenever she thought of him. She just wanted him by her side. A fact that her cousins had teased her relentlessly about ever since she'd made that revelation to them.

'And now, I'm about to see him once more,' she thought happily. The grin growing with each moment the group drew closer, only to falter as she looked down at herself. 'And here I am, unbathed for a week and wearing a riding dress that is completely unflattering! I'd planned on making another impression on Jon upon our reunion, one that he wouldn't be able to get rid of so easily. But now there's no chance of that happening! Though…Perhaps this is still salvageable. Ellaria always said that there are few things that can get Uncle Oberyn's blood flowing like a good fight. Perhaps I can…tempt him and leave an impression that way? Hmm…I wonder? With his blood flowing, will he take the initiative when properly provoked? Or will I have to take his hand and lead him through the dance?'

As they drew close enough so that Arianne could hear their voices, she saw that her uncle was looking incredibly smug. 'No doubt he knew exactly what I had hoped to achieve with a reunion with Jon…and he more than likely invited Jon along just to mess with me.' "Ah, dear niece, daughters, my love," Oberyn greeted each of them in turn as he brought his horse alongside Ellaria's so that the two could share a very…passionate reunion.

Ignoring the display, Arianne instead focused her attention on Jon. Who, she noted, seemed to be taking her uncle's antics in stride. 'It's only been a year, and I can tell he has changed. When he was in Dorne such and open display would have at least the tips of his ears turning red. But now he simply brushes it off as an everyday occurrence. And he has filled out quite nicely in that time as well. Though that beard, or what is starting to be a beard, needs some work.'

"Princess Arianne, welcome to the North. Though I do wish that our reunion was under better circumstances, it is…good to see you again," Jon greeted her, his voice firm and warm, though she could detect just the slightest bit of shaking that he was obviously trying to keep out of his voice.

'Well, at least he hasn't changed too much.' Arianne thought with a grin. "Jon…how many times have I told you how you are to address me? It's not hard, just my name. Now, try again properly."

Jon blinked, then graced her with a smile that seemed to warm his face. "As you wish, Arianne."

It was such a simple thing but hearing her name on his lips as if he were tasting a fine wine and savoring it… It sent shivers down her spine that had absolutely nothing to do with the cold air of the North. 'Oh yes…this is going to be a most…fortuitous journey to Winterfell.'


Pursing through the shelves that contained the Northern Sorcerer's private library, Tyrion Lannister could do little more than marvel at the rather impressive collection the man had managed to acquire in his relatively short time here in the North. The main library within Winterfell was impressive beyond measure and put Casterly Rock's to shame. And this library only added onto the already impressive collection. Pulling down a book at random, Tyrion fought down the jealousy rising within him as he stared down at the Valyrian language written within the tome. 'Of course, most of these came from the ruins of Valyria,' Tyrion thought, cursing the fact that he'd never taken the opportunity to learn the language of the Dragon Lords, though granted outside of some parts of Essos it was pretty much useless. 'But still, each of these books are probably worth a small keep a piece. To the right people, the sorcerer could probably generate enough coin from the sale of these books to surpass both House Lannister's and House Tyrell's combined wealth.'

Putting the book back in place, Tyrion continued his way down the length of the shelf, intent on making the most of his time now that he finally had a moment to do so even after being in Winterfell for nearly five days and nights. Ever since he'd arrived in Winterfell with his uncle and niece, he had been a very busy little man. Personally, he wanted to do nothing more than just sit and read and watch the Sorcerer's lessons. But his father had pointedly informed him before he left that his going to Winterfell was not for mere pleasure. His father had given him a list of tasks he was to perform that was nearly as tall as he was. And he had to work fast as he learned on the very day of their arrival that House Lannister was not alone in it's desire to gain an 'in' with the North as both House Tyrell and House Martell were sending envoys that were due to arrive within only a few days. So, for the first few days he spent every waking moment taking constant mental notes of everything the sorcerer had done to Winterfell before retreating to his room and writing them all down so that he wouldn't forget any detail no matter how small.

The glassmaking was astonishing to watch. While in theory, now that he knew the secret behind it, it wasn't difficult. But the craftsman of the North had turned glassmaking into almost an art form. Just to see how good they'd gotten, Tyrion had commissioned a set of bowls and chalices worthy of House Lannister. The master craftsman hadn't even batted an eye at the request and had simply stated a price, which was unfortunately almost all the gold Tyrion had on him and given him the timeframe of eight days to complete the work. 'It'd be possible to start our own production in the Westerlands, perhaps a keep along the shoreline where there is sand aplenty,' Tyrion mused as his fingers drifted along the spines of the books. 'But it will take years to catch up to the Northmen. And even then, we would only be able to do so if they remain stagnant in the craft. Which is unlikely considering how far they've come in such a short time.'

His next target was the printing press. Which, to him, was honestly the greatest treasure in the North. It was so…intricate that he'd spent a full day just observing how the thing worked and writing down everything he could. And even after that, he doubted that he got everything and didn't know whether House Lannister would be able to replicate the device or not. Then there was the 'school', as it was known. A place of learning for the young children both high and lowborn. And then the college where the more studiously inclined individuals went. Then the training regimes that the sorcerer imposed on both his acolytes, which even with Joy's help he couldn't make sense of.

The only mild break he had was two nights ago when he made his way down to the brothel in Winter Town. But even that wasn't just about finding pleasurable company for the night. For the whore he'd chosen was the very same one that he'd sent to the North in the first place. Unfortunately, she didn't have much to tell him as most of her patrons didn't have much to say about the going's on in Winterfell. And her best source of information, the Greyjoy lad who had become her most frequent patron, had only the coin to visit her twice since returning to the North with Lord Stark. But he did give her a bit of information that Tyrion was very interested in. Information regarding the few small folk that came back from King's Landing with the Starks. The young lad was a motherless bastard who worked as a blacksmith's apprentice before the sorcerer got his hands on him. The young mother who came with them was a former whore who now worked on the looms in Winterfell. And while she didn't have any magic within her, her infant daughter apparently did. And it was because of her daughter that the woman was allowed to travel North and treated pretty much like a noble lady. And the last of the smallfolk was apparently a young girl that the sorcerer rescued. Though just why the sorcerer had taken an interest in her seeing as how she wasn't joining the sorcerer's other acolytes in their lessons, that Theon didn't know. 'I'll have to try and find this young girl,' Tyrion frowned, his mind wandering as he walked. 'The sorcerer never does anything without reason. So why would he take in a young girl wh—?'

His thoughts scattered as he turned the corner of a shelf and ran straight into someone small, knocking both of them to the ground. "Ouch! Wat–oh! Milord–forgive me! I–I didn't see you or hear you coming!"

Picking himself up off the ground, Tyrion found a head of golden hair scrambling around him trying to pick up a few cleaning instruments that the girl must've dropped when they collided. "No worries, girl," he said, picking up a feather duster and holding it out for her to take. "I am quite a small man and am often…missed…"

His words died in his throat as his heart seized in his chest. The girl's face when she looked up at him… He knew her face. It was younger than the one that so regularly haunted and mocked his dreams, but the face was almost the same. And her eyes. One green. The other dark to almost black.

"Thank–Thank you, milord," the girl stammered, quickly taking the duster from him.

Forcing himself to breathe, Tyrion looked down at the girl carefully. "Who are you, girl?"

The girl's hand froze in the act of picking up a rag. "Me–My name be Anna, milord," she said, causing Tyrion's heart to stop beating once again. "I—I clean the Sorcerer's library when I'm not learning from Lady Bethany. I wasn't expectin nobody today, milord. Usually, only Lady Talisa be in the library at this hour."

'Her name. Her face. Her eyes. Gods…It's impossible. Isn't it?' "I see," Tyrion responded, doing everything he could think of to try and remain calm. "And tell me, girl, do your parents also work to help clean?"

The girl shook her head slowly. "No, milord. Me ma be dead. She died back in the big city, then…then bad men came, and…and they did…they did bad things. But then the sorcerer and a man in a white cloak came and saved me! And the sorcerer brought me here. The sorcerer is such a good man! He's letting me learn how to read and write and he says that I'm good at it. And, and he gives me extra coin to help Lady Talisa and to help clean up around his library. I – I miss my ma, but…but I'm happy here."

"I see," Tyrion swallowed the lump in his throat. "And…what of your father, gi – Anna?"

Anna ceased slightly as her right hand came up and clutched at something that was around her neck and tucked into her dress. A pendant perhaps? "I–I never knew me father, milord," Anna stated plainly, though with a clear touch of sadness in her voice. "Mama…ma said they were married in secret and that he was a lord of some sort. She said she loved him but he…he betrayed her in the worst way. She–She never said what he did but…but he hurt mama bad. And then she – she was driven away from her home and left on her own by me father's family. Mama, she…she never said any more about me father than that."

Tyrion was near shaking at this point. Too many things were matching up for his liking…but it was impossible. Wasn't it? "And – And what is it that you are holding onto so dearly there, Anna?"

Blinking away the tears forming in her eyes, the girl pulled on a thin cord that was around her neck. When the pendant came clear of her dress, any doubts that were left in Tyrion's mind were gone as he saw the poorly repaired cheap lion pendant that'd been hidden. After all, he'd been the one to repair that exact pendant and give it to his whore of a first wife. "That's…quite the treasure you have there, Anna."

"Thank you, milord,"

'Not milord…father,' Tyrion wanted to tell her, but he didn't. He couldn't. Not until he had some answers. "Tell me, girl. You said that a man in a white cloak found you as well as the sorcerer. Would you be able to describe this man to me?"

Anna blinked at him before gracing him with a dazzling smile and nodding. "His hair was yellow like mine. And he had green eyes and smiled a lot. At least he did until he went and talked quietly to the Lord Sorcerer. Then he…he wasn't smiling anymore. And I never saw him again after that."

'Jamie.' For the first time in his life, Tyrion felt pure unbridled anger at the only member of his family outside of his Uncle Gerion who showed him any amount of decency in his shit life. 'Did he know about her? Or did he just happen to come across her and recognize her? And if so, why did he send her North? Why – Why didn't he send her to me! She's my daughter, for fuck's sake! Why would he send her so far away and not tell me about her? And Nox…Does he know? That's a stupid question. Of course, he knows who she is. She just told me that she usually works in the library at this time of day. And Nox specifically told me to come here at this time when the place was mostly deserted. He wanted the two of us to meet!'

"Keep that pendant safe, Anna," Tyrion said, trying his best to smile at the girl and failing miserably. "Now, if you'll excuse me. I believe that I need to have a few words with the Lord Sorcerer myself."

Leaving the young girl who was his daughter was perhaps one of the hardest things Tyrion had ever done in his entire life, but he needed to talk to Nox immediately. Not bothering to ask anyone for directions, he simply started to climb the tower, assuming that the sorcerer's private quarters were at the very top. But before he could reach the top of the tower, a door was suddenly flung open in his path. What was strange though was that no one seemed to have opened said door. It simply opened on its own. Peeking through the doorway, Tyrion clenched his teeth as he spotted the sorcerer kneeling in the middle of the room.

"Brave of you to trespass so readily into the domain of a Sith, Tyrion Lannister. Especially as you were not invited." the sorcerer said, his back still turned to Tyrion.

Fighting down every instinct within him that was telling him to turn tail and run. Tyrion forced himself to walk into the room. As soon as he did, the door slammed shut behind him and the latch fell in place, locking the two of them in the room together.

"I don't take to being threatened well, sorcerer." He didn't know just how or why he was able to keep his voice as steady as it was, but he just hoped that whatever it was that was allowing him to confront the sorcerer like this would hold out for a while longer.

"Threatened?" the sorcerer questioned, rising to his feet and turning to face him. The cloth that usually covered his face was gone, showing his burn-scarred eyes for all to see. "That was no threat Tyrion. Merely an education, if you will. Sith do not take to being intruded upon well."

"Not that," Tyrion countered, fighting to keep his eyes on the man's scarred face. "I am not a fool, sorcerer. I know how this game is played better than most. And I know when a threat is being waved in my face."

The sorcerer tilted his head slightly to the side. "I see. So, you have met your daughter then. A good girl. One you should be proud—"

"Cut the horse shit, sorcerer!" Tyrion yelled, taking a step towards the sorcerer. "You have my daughter! And I swear to the gods, old and new, that should anything happen to her, I'll bring an end to—"

Something invisible struck him in the gut, forcing the air from his lungs and ending his tirade. Before he could recover his wits, he felt himself being dragged back and slammed against the wall before being raised up and held in place so that he and the sorcerer were now at eye level.

"You say that you do not take to threats well, Tyrion." The very air in the room almost seemed to turn to ice as Tyrion began shivering as he was held in the air by unseen bindings as the sorcerer advanced on him. "But Sith do not take well to even the idea of a threat. Your daughter being here and you meeting her was no threat, Tyrion. Merely a chance to stage a reunion between a father and his daughter away from prying eyes. Now, we can either sit down and talk. Or you can continue to try and threaten me with whatever imagination you have. In which case, well…Just ask Ser Lyn Corbray how inventive I can be with those who cross me. Now. Choose. Talk. Or something far more unpleasant."

Whatever was keeping him in the air and turning the air to ice disappeared as Tyrion's feet hit the floor. "Not really much of a choice, is there?" Tyrion asked, making his decision known as he worked to calm himself to deal with the sorcerer with a clear mind. "Wouldn't happen to have any wine up here, would you?"

"It would be best if you kept your wits about you for now, Tyrion," the sorcerer informed him, returning to the center of the room and kneeling down in the same place he'd been in when Tyrion arrived. "You can indulge yourself later."

Frowning at not finding any seats and being denied a drink, Tyrion sat down on the cold stone floor a few paces in front of the sorcerer. "Not necessarily the most comfortable of seats," he grumbled, fidgeting as he tried to find a comfortable manner for which to sit.

"Comfort is merely a state of one's mind. Now, onto the topic of your daughter. What exactly do you intend to do with her now?"

Frowning, Tyrion scratched at the back of his head. "Let me ask you this first. The white cloak who found her. Was it my brother, Jamie?"

"Aye, it was." The answer was expected. But still devastating to hear. Jamie was the one person he thought he could trust in his family. And now, now his brother had sent Tyrion's daughter to the North without even bothering to let him know that she existed in the first place. "But before you let your anger get the better of you, it was clear that your brother was just as surprised to learn of her existence as you now are. And him sending her with me was not done to keep her from you. But rather to protect her."

"To protect her?" Tyrion asked. "What in the Seven hells are you talking about?"

"Tell me, Tyrion, should your father or sister learn of your daughter's existence. A daughter that is trueborn regardless of what people say, what do you think would happen to her? Had Anna been born a boy, she would've technically been the direct heir to Casterly Rock. But even with her being born a girl, she still holds significant value."

The question made Tyrion pause and think. And none of the thoughts that came to him were pleasant. When Tyrion made no move to speak, the sorcerer pressed on. "You wish to take her from here and raise her as your own, do you not? That will cause more than a few issues. One of which will be you explaining to your daughter why you stood by and watched, and later participated, in the gang raping of her mother."

The insinuation and reminder of his whore of a first wife made Tyrion clench his fist. "Her mother was a whore, nothing more. And I–I fell for her tricks. But my father showed me what she was after he revealed her plot. Offered her a silver stag for each guard she fucked. Then when I fucked her, he gave her a single gold dragon cause a Lannister man was worth more. When she was done, she had so much silver that it was pouring from her hands like water."

"And you believe your father to be the epitome of truthfulness when it comes to matters regarding yourself?"

Tyrion leveled a glare at the sorcerer. Of course he hadn't believed his father when he'd informed him of Tysha's true nature. But Jamie confirmed the tale to be true. "Of course not. But Jamie, he told me that she was a whore and that the whole farce had been set up so that I could become a man."

"And you believe that your brother is incapable of lying to you? Even if your father ordered him to?"

That…brought Tyrion up short. Jamie was always kind to him while they were growing up. But his brother was also desperate for his father's approval, even if he would deny it. If his father ordered Jamie to lie… Gods, could it be true? Had he…Had he been tricked by his father and brother?

"I spent quite a bit of time looking in on Anna's past while I was in King's Landing after your brother left her with me," the sorcerer continued, oblivious or not caring of Tyrion's internal struggle. "Her mother died less than a year past from a sickness. The moment she died, men raided the small home she had managed to purchase, and Anna, sweet and cute girl she is, was sold off to an underground slave market that was starting to take hold. It took me some time to locate the ones who sold her, but I eventually managed to catch one of them. After some questioning, he informed me that the reason why they raided the house was because there was a tale that Tysha had a bag of silver and a gold dragon hidden in her house somewhere despite living in near squaller. And the rumors proved true. The man confessed that he and his accomplices found a bag full of silver stags and a single gold dragon hidden beneath one of her floorboards. It had been there for so long that a thick layer of dust had formed on the bag."

Tyrion felt his world crumbling around him. Tysha…She never spent a single coin that'd been thrown on her soiled body. She raised their daughter without him even knowing. His daughter had been sold into slavery, even if only for a brief time. His father had destroyed the one good thing that'd happened to him. And his brother had lied about it to cover for his father. Questions of the past and what had truly happened could wait. Right now he needed to focus on his daughter and keeping her safe. Because, as loath as he was to admit it, right now her anonymity was her best protection from his family and from those would seek to use her against his family.

"I–I want to leave her here in Winterfell…for now." Tyrion ground out, his mind still a mess as he tried to sort out his upturned life. "You'll…You'll treat her well? Like she was one of your own?"

The sorcerer gave a slight nod. "As long as she is here, I will see to her upbringing as a favor to you. She will have to work to earn her keep but given her mind and work ethic, that will not be a problem. Once you are ready to be reunited with her, I will make sure she arrives to you without incident."

Tyrion wanted to curse whichever god had led him to this situation. Hells, he might as well curse them all. Shaking his head, Tyrion got to his feet and made to leave the sorcerer alone so that he could gather his thoughts. Coming to the door, which unlatched itself as he approached, he turned back towards the sorcerer and did something he rarely did. He bowed to the man.

"Thank you, Lord Nox. A Lannister always repays his debts… Though, I cannot fathom just how I'm going to repay this one…" As he moved out into the hall and started making his way down the tower, he couldn't stop himself from muttering, "Fuck, I need a drink and a strong one at that… Probably more than one."