Welcome back folks! A little later than normal perhaps. But that's life. And while my notifications for FFnet are not currently working at all for anything, I'm thrilled that everyone who has come to read this chapter was able to find it! And I hope that I can entertain you if even for a short time with this story! Now this chapter is, obviously, a bit shorter than my normal (I usually try and hit 20k before posting). But honestly I felt this chapter was good where it is at right now, and in the interest in getting it out today, I decided to ship it off to my beta reader and to post it today. Just as a heads up, the next two chapters will include a number of time skips and might seem a bit fragmented at times. But don't worry, I have a purpose to this…and that purpose is that we're 29 chapters in and over 600K words and still not to the start of GOT…so we're going to be speeding things up a bit.
Shoutout to my beta reader and brainstorm partner Tellemicus Sundace. Lastly, I do not own Disney, nor am I Lucas or Martin; 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! And as always, thank you to everyone who has alerted, favorited or reviewed this story. Your continued support is what keeps me going on this! So thank you, all of you!
Chapter 29
The morning after the combined celebration for the marriage of Asher Forrester and Gwyn Whitehill, the announcement of the betrothal between Sansa Stark and Willas Tyrell, and Robb Stark's ascension to the rank of Apprentice, the halls, and indeed most of Winterfell, was cast in a deafening silence as the night's activities took their toll on the residents. Even the servants, who were usually up with the sun, could not escape the toll of their revelry and most were forced to seek the nearest chamber pot or the darkest corner they could find to try and alleviate some of the pain they were feeling. It was certainly not a sight that Robb Stark was used to seeing. 'Not that I can blame anyone for wanting to seek their own beds today,' Robb thought as he slowly made his way through the halls, doing his best not to make too much noise as he did. 'If not for Talisa, I know that I would be in the same shape as everyone else. Talisa…'
If he could see his own face, he knew that he would have the dumbest grin ever plastered across it. And he didn't care. Sure, he had enjoyed himself last night. Perhaps a little too much in fact. But the revelry of the previous night was not the reason for his good mood. No, that lied solely with the beauty from Volantis who Robb was now positive he was completely in love with. The beauty that stayed by his side the entire night. The beauty that had half-carried half-dragged his sorry ass to bed when he could barely walk under his own power. The same beauty who, despite his state, stayed with him the entire night. And the same beauty that he woke up to and gave him a mug of a foul-smelling concoction that somehow managed to at least lessen the hammering in his head. 'I don't care what it takes. What concessions I need to make with my bannermen or what I need to do to convince them. But Talisa will become the next Lady of Winterfell, I swear on the old gods she will,' Robb swore to himself as he made his way towards the corridor that held Jon's room.
His brother had two separate chambers, one in the main keep and one in the Sorcerer's Tower. While he knew that Jon preferred to sleep in the tower, he was sure that if his brother was in even half as bad a shape as he was, then there was no way he would've made it to the Tower last night. His suspicions were confirmed as he pressed on the door to his brethren's room, only to find it barred from the inside. 'I don't want to intrude…but by the gods I need to talk to Jon! Even though we didn't even kiss, at least I made some headway with Talisa last night!' he thought excitedly as he used the Force to quietly undo the latch on the other side of the door. "Jon, you're not going to believe this, but—"
His words died on his tongue as he got a good look into the room. His brother was on his bed, eyes closed and sound asleep. But on his chest was a mess of dark curls, which were attached to the head of Princess Arianne Martell. And up higher on the bed, positioned so that Jon's head was pressed firmly against her breasts, was the red-haired spearwife Ygritte. All three were sleeping soundly. With only a few blankets that were carelessly arranged across their bodies…and which did absolutely nothing to hide the fact that all three were completely bare as the day they were born!
Backing out slowly, Robb closed the door as softly as he could while he tried to fully wrap his mind around what he'd just seen. Jon. His brother. Perhaps the most honorable man Robb had ever met besides their father. Was naked. In bed. With a wildling spearwife. And the Princess of Dorne. And, by the way they were still sound asleep, despite him walking into the room… They were all clearly exhausted. By the gods! Theon would never, ever, be able to brag about his prowess between the sheets again! Ever! And if anyone deserved to have this happen to him, it was definitely Jon.
Smiling, Robb began making his way back the way he came but came to an almost immediate stop as he realized that he was not the only one awake at this hour. And the person walking towards him while calmly humming was perhaps the last person Robb wanted to see right now. Or rather he was sure that this person would be the last person his brother ever saw should he find him in his current state. "Prince Oberyn," Robb said hurriedly, trying to divert the man from going any further, "I had not expected to see you awake at sunrise this morning."
The Red Viper of Dorne smiled easily as he nodded his head in greeting. "And a fine morning to you as well, young Stark. I will admit, with the amount you drank last night I am more than slightly surprised to find you not only awake but seemingly perfectly fine."
Nodding, Robb resisted the urge to look behind him towards his brother's chambers. "Lady Talisa had me drink some strange brew this morning. It tasted absolutely foul. But after drinking it, I feel better than I have any right to."
Prince Oberyn nodded. "A good life lesson to learn, young wolf. Never underestimate the healing powers of a good woman. And speaking of which, I am curious if you have seen my niece anywhere. I lost track of her last night and she was not in her chambers this morning. Considering the festivities and drinks that were flowing last night, I would hate to think that someone tried to take advantage of a Princess of Dorne."
'Oh gods! Jon…you owe me for this one!' "Um, Princess Arianne," Robb responded lamely, desperately trying to come up with something to tell perhaps one of the deadliest men in all of the Seven Kingdoms. "I – uh –"
Whatever he'd been about to say died on his tongue as Prince Oberyn raised his hand. Surprisingly, the Red Viper of Dorne was smiling. "There is no need to try and spin a tale, young wolf. You're not experienced enough to spin one that I would find believable anyway. And besides, I already know exactly where my niece is located. She's in your brother's bed. Along with that spearwife that he brought back from north of the Wall."
Robb's stomach dropped as fear for his brother's continued survival came to the forefront of his mind. 'Yet, the Prince isn't armed. And he's even…smiling? Is he…Is he not upset with Jon bedding Arianne? And Ygritte. At the same time?' "Um, what – what do you plan on doing, Prince Oberyn?"
His smile never fading, Oberyn took a step closer to him. Robb's entire body tensed, yet he could sense no danger coming from the Force. So, he forced himself to stay still as the Prince of Dorne patted his shoulder with his hand. "Don't worry, lad. My niece is her own woman, and old enough to make her choices and understand the consequences of them. Considering it's your brother who is in her bed, I know full well just who was the initiator of their activities. And from my own personal point of view, the only way she perhaps could've chosen a better way to spend her night is if she managed to get yourself and Talisa in bed with the three of them as well. Though, that would be me, not my niece. So, I suppose bedding the White Wolf of Winterfell and a wildling spearwife will have to be enough of an accomplishment for now."
Robb blanched at the idea. Not of bedding more than one woman because he was relatively sure that every man would take that opportunity if it was presented to him. But rather it was the idea of sharing a bed in that manner with his own brother! "I—uh, I don't think—"
The Prince of Dorne laughed once more and patted his shoulder again. "You Northmen need to take a lesson from your new brethren from north of the Wall and relax sometimes. Nothing's wrong with a good bout of sex. Now, seeing as how I know that my dear niece is in good and capable hands, I will return to my own room and Ellaria's warmth. Take care, young wolf."
Robb had been knocked so off balance by the whole encounter that he was able to do little more than watch as the Red Viper turned around and walked back the way he came. Only after the man had disappeared around the corner did Robb release the breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding in. 'By the gods…What in all the hells just happened?'
Whistling a light tune to himself, Oberyn calmly walked down the deserted corridors of Winterfell away from the Heir of the North. The look on the lad's face when he'd mentioned he was looking for Arianne was just about priceless. Of course, he knew full well where Arianne had decided to end up last night. After all, Ellaria had provided his niece and the spearwife with the undergarments that they had planned to use to break the White Wolf. 'Or rather the White Dragon,' Oberyn smirked as he found a stairway and, instead of heading down towards his room, instead climbed upwards. 'Though that doesn't have quite the same ring to it. The Snow Dragon? The Winter Dragon? The Dragonwolf? Hm. I suppose it doesn't matter. At least right now in any case. Dorne has gotten what we were looking for, even if my niece isn't fully aware of it yet. After last night, I'm positive that Arianne has Jon wrapped around her finger. And as for whether Jon knows his true parentage…the lad hid it well. But he spent far too much time with Maester Aemon at the Wall for the two of them just to have simple discussions. No. He was spending time with the last member of his father's family that still resides on this side of the Narrow Sea.'
Coming to the uppermost level of the great keep of Winterfell, Oberyn made the short journey down the hall until he reached a door that had a single guard standing watch. 'Poor man,' Oberyn smirked, noticing how the guard was leaning heavily on his spear. 'Wonder who he pissed off to draw guard duty first thing this morning.'
The man was so out of it that Oberyn was nearly within arm's reach before the guardsman even realized he was no longer alone in the hall. "Um – Prince Oberyn," the man stumbled over his words, clearly still suffering from the effects of too much drink the night before.
"No need to be so formal, man," Oberyn smiled easily. "I've come to see Lord Stark. Given the sun has risen, I assume that he is already up and working?"
The door behind the man opened before he could say anything, accompanied by the strong voice of the Quiet Wolf. "Come in, Prince Oberyn."
Walking past the guardsman, Oberyn didn't fail to notice that Lord Stark was indeed situated at his desk and hard at work despite the early time of day. The giant wolf, Winter, was laid out across the front of his desk. The direwolf easily surpassing the length of the desk and nearly matching it in height even though it was laying on its side. 'A desk which is across the room from the door,' Oberyn noted as he closed and latched the door behind him. 'A door which he managed to open while still seated at his desk. Apparently, the pups are not the only ones who have benefited from Nox's tutelage.'
"Is there something you need, Prince Oberyn?" Stark asked, the man not even bothering to look up from whatever paperwork he was working on.
"Just came to inform you that we will be taking our leave soon," Oberyn replied calmly, taking one of the few empty chairs in the room, which put him directly across from Stark and right in front of the giant wolf.
"Oh?" Stark asked, setting his quill back into the ink pot and meeting his eyes for the first time since he'd entered the room.
"Yes," Oberyn nodded. "During our absence, my niece and your daughter, alongside Lady Nox, worked on finalizing a better trade deal between Dorne and the North. Which, unless my eyes deceive me is what you are going over right now. So now that Dorne is…satisfied, we will no longer be a drain on your resources. Though I will admit that I have enjoyed my time here in the North far more than I thought I would. Seeing sights even I have never seen. A good battle. And a fantastic night last night with my dear Ellaria and a stolen Free Folk couple. Adventure, fighting, and good sex. What more could I hope for? Speaking of sex, there isn't some half naked woman that's going to be trying to sneak out of your bed while I'm here, is there? I just don't want her to embarrass herself, nor you."
Stark gave him a flat look. "There is no need to be concerned about that occurring, Prince Oberyn."
"No?" Oberyn asked, his interest now piqued. "That is…unfortunate. I do believe that you are perhaps the only individual in all of Winterfell that is of age and did not enjoy the company of another in your bed in one form or another last night. You do know that every unmarried woman, and even some of the married, would jump at the opportunity to share the bed of the famed 'Quiet Wolf' even if only for a night? Hells, even my paramour Ellaria spoke on how she would be willing to share your bed should the opportunity arise. Please don't tell me that you haven't indulged yourself as of late?"
Oberyn had a moment of concern as he felt a shiver pass over him as Stark's eyes turned yellow for the briefest of moments before reverting to their steel-grey coloring. "My lady wife has passed from this world, Prince Oberyn."
"Almost a year past now, Stark," Oberyn countered. "Please do not tell me that you have gone without another's warmth in your bed in all that time? Gods, no wonder you are so stressed, Stark. If I had known that you've gone celibate sooner, I would've all but insisted that Ellaria share your bed. I can guarantee that after one night with my paramour, you will be more relaxed than you have ever felt in your life."
Stark turned his eyes away from him and stared off into the distance. "I will not shame the memory of my lady wife."
Sighing, Oberyn shook his head. "Honestly, I don't know where you get this whole sex is a besmirching of honor and a point of shame. I think I blame the Vale because gods know the people of the North I've met and those beyond the Wall are not shy about a good bout of sex. But those uptight holier-than-thou Valemen? Well, that is a whole other story. I honestly believe that most of them read the Seven-Pointed Star before and after a night in the bedroom. But you, Stark? You are no Valeman. You're a man of the North and a worshiper of the old gods. Honestly, do you truly believe that your late lady wife would want you to deprive yourself of physical company for the rest of your life? You don't need to marry the lass, just approach one and try your luck, I doubt any would say no. And if it's discretion you're worried about, the girls who work the brothel are known to be very discrete, especially if it's for a high-ranking client such as yourself."
Oberyn knew that he was getting through to the stoic Warden of the North, even if the man didn't want to admit it, because he didn't outright dismiss the suggestion. 'He's more than likely now realizing just how much he misses sex, even if he won't admit it aloud.'
"Is there anything else you needed from me, Prince Oberyn?"
Sensing the dismissal for what it was, and content with taking his small victory, Oberyn shook his head and got to his feet. "No, I just wanted to inform you that Dorne has been most satisfied with our time in the North and that we will be soon taking our leave. And now with the announcement of your daughter and Willas's betrothal, not to mention the Lannisters getting one of their own under Nox's tutelage, I imagine that soon enough Winterfell will be back to its usual calm."
"Aye," Stark nodded, rising to his feet and holding out his hand. "It has been a pleasure, Prince Oberyn."
Smiling, Oberyn took the offered hand. "Likewise, Lord Stark." Turning, Oberyn made to leave before pausing and snapping his fingers. "Oh yes, there was one more thing. Your bastard boy, Jon."
It was slight, but Oberyn noticed the way Stark stiffened more than usual. "What of him?"
"I'm merely curious about him," Oberyn said, turning back around fully. "You see my niece, Princess Arianne, has taken quite a liking to the boy. Enough that she even decided to bed him and the spearwife he brought back from the Wall last night." Oberyn just barely managed to contain the laugh that threatened to escape him as he watched Stark struggle to keep his composure after hearing that Jon bedded Arianne. "Don't worry, I do not intend to bring harm upon the boy, quite the opposite in fact. You see, Arianne has her eyes on the boy. And one thing about my niece, once she sets her sights upon something she desires, she is relentless in her pursuit of it. So, I wouldn't be surprised if in the near future you don't receive a potential betrothal offer between Arianne and Jon. He wouldn't be in line to lead Dorne of course, that position lies solely with Arianne as my brother's eldest child. But he would become her Prince Consort and the Sword of Dorne. But there is a slight problem. While we of Dorne do not usually care about whether one is a bastard. But when that individual is marrying into the ruling family, it can become an issue. It would be much easier to ease the people into accepting Jon as their next Prince Consort if it was more widely known that Jon was the son of the late Lady Ashara Dayne. After all, who else could be his mother considering you didn't have him with you until after you left Starfall at the end of the Rebellion. And I'm sure that his true mother would indeed approve of Arianne as a bride for him."
This time, Oberyn did allow himself the slightest bit of a smirk as he watched the Quiet Wolf silently argue with himself over how to answer him. It was clear that Stark suspected that he knew something, though what he knew the man clearly did not know. 'Oh Stark, if only you knew that I know the truth about Jon. It might be easier if I just come out and say it, but that would more than likely cause more than a few problems as I'm still in the heart of the North and don't necessarily feel like fighting my way out of here should Stark decide that I need to be silenced lest I tell more what I know.'
"Jon's mother," Stark began, then stopped as he clearly tried to put his words together before speaking them. "Was a woman unlike any other. A woman I loved. And I will say no more on the matter."
'A woman unlike any other. And a woman you loved. Very open ended, though most would assume that he means Ashara Dayne as their tryst in Harrenhal is not a very well-kept secret. But there is another woman who matches those criteria as well. A woman unlike any other. And a woman Stark loved, as a sister. Lyanna Stark.'
"Very well," Oberyn nodded, deciding not to push the subject further. "Farewell, Stark. But one last thing. As I said, my niece is tenacious. And no secret is safe from her should she wish to find it out."
Returning to the world of the waking was an incredibly slow process for Jon Stark. He didn't want to wake. He was warm. Comfortable. And covered in something so soft and warm that he wanted to do nothing more than to press whatever was against him tighter and bask in the sensation he was feeling. And, for some reason, his entire body was exhausted. Like he'd spent the entire night running and working in the yard. The combination of the warmth, the comfort, the tiredness he felt throughout his body and the fact that he'd just had the best night sleep accompanied by the best dream in his entire life made him want to spend the rest of the day in bed.
"Hmm, stop moving so much, Jon."
"Hm, sorry, Arianne," he muttered, weaving his fingers through her thick hair an rubbing his face against the warmth that was pressed against it as he tried to return to being as still as possible for the woman that was using his chest as a pillow.
Awareness came back to him faster than a crossbow bolt as his eyes snapped open. Laying on his chest was none other than Princess Arianne Martell. Her dark curls and fingers dancing lightly across his chest. And pressed against the side of his head was…was Ygritte's chest. Her arms wrapped around his head with one hand laying against his chest. And – and he could feel every part of each woman's warm body pressed up against his own! Meaning…meaning they were both as bare as he!
The night came flashing back to him as he remembered what had transpired after he'd left the feast. Of arriving back to his chambers in the family wing of the keep only to discover Ygritte and Arianne both waiting for him in his room. Of taking first Arianne with Ygritte whispering in his ear. Then taking Ygritte like an animal. Then taking them both as he laid on his back while Arianne rode his cock and Ygritte rode his face! Then even again after that! And –
"Hmm, well, Ygritte, it seems like we haven't quite worn our wolf out just yet," Arianne murmured as she looked up at him with heat in her eyes even as her warm hand slid down his front and grasped his steadily growing length in her hand. "I would've thought that after taking each of us three times and then twice together would be enough to sate his appetite. But apparently, I was wrong. We've certainly gone and uncaged the wolf…and what a wolf he is."
Jon couldn't help the moan that escaped him as her hand began to move. "If yer too worn-out, Princess, ya can sit this one out," Ygritte commented as she slid down from her spot, her lips tracing his ear and moving down his neck. "It's understandable if yer are. After all, only a true woman can keep up with the appetite of a wolf like this one."
Arianne's grip tightened as her hand moved faster. "I can more than easily keep up with you, wildling."
"W-Wait!" Jon gasped, calling upon every exercise he could think of to try and clear his mind from the fog of pleasure that was once again threatening to consume him.
Ceasing their movements, Arianne tilted her head up and looked at him. Then promptly groaned at what she saw, her head dropping heavily back down onto his chest. "Well…shit. It looks like our honorable fool is back, Ygritte."
Arianne's hand left him, only to come back immediately as she cupped his face with both of her hands and brought her face to within a hair's breadth of his own. "You listen to me and listen well, Jon Stark. What happened last night happened because we wanted it to happen. You did nothing wrong. So, get any silly notion of 'dishonoring' or whatever shit is holding you up right now out of your head! Especially if you want what happened last night to happen again anytime soon."
"The Princess is right, Stark," Ygritte added, her fingers tightening in his hair as she pulled, forcing him to turn to look at her. "There be no shame in a good fuck. And last night was a good dance between the furs. So, none of this sulking shite you wolves are so good at."
"It's – It's not about that!" Jon tried to say, even though a part of his mind, albeit a very small part now, was trying to scream that it was. "I – gods…"
Looking down at Arianne and then over towards Ygritte, Jon knew that he was a lost cause. He wanted them both. And now that he'd had them both, he would never be able to let go of either of them. "Are – Are you two alright with – with this?" he asked slowly. "I mean, both of you. Together. With me?"
Both women glanced at one another before snorting at nearly the same time. "If we weren't alright with this, Stark, do ya think we would've fucked ya together last night?" Ygritte asked in her usual crass manner.
"I – I…gods," Jon breathed, honestly not sure how he was supposed to be handling a situation like this.
"Well, are you done brooding now, Jon?" Arianne asked, her hand once again starting to slowly travel down his body. "Because I do believe I need to show our little wildling spearwife just what it means to try and keep up with a Dornish woman in bed."
"Wait," Jon gasped, once again having to fight against the pleasure threatening to overrun his mind.
"Oh, for fuck's sake, now what, Jon?" Ygritte sighed. "Ya know, most men wouldn't be sayin 'wait' when he's got two women in his bed ready to fuck him senseless."
"No, it's not that! I – I mean gods know I want nothing more than to…well…continue," Jon said, fighting against the reddening of his face. "But I – I need to tell you both something. Something important. Something you both need to know before we continue with…with this."
Ygritte merely scoffed as she swung her legs over the bed and began picking up her clothing from all around the room. Arianne meanwhile didn't move from her spot on his chest, her dark eyes boring into him. No words were spoken as the two continued to look at one another for a few long moments. But eventually Arianne nodded as she realized that he wouldn't budge on the issue and got up, bare as Ygritte as she began searching around the room for her own clothes. Swinging his own legs over the edge of the bed and sitting up, Jon was tempted to wrap the sheet around his body to keep some form of modesty. But he quickly forced that notion aside. Both women were strutting around his room as bare as the day they were born and didn't seem the least bit flustered about it. And after last night…well, what more did he have to hide? Especially from these two. Barely a word was uttered as the three of them got dressed, and finally after lacing up the last of Arianne's dress, the two women rounded in on Jon once again.
"So," Ygritte said, clearly agitated. "What is it that ya got ta say that is so important that ya couldn't even wait to say it to give us two what we want?"
"Not here," Jon said quietly. While he trusted the people of Winterfell, he didn't necessarily trust those who were from the south. Excluding Arianne, of course. Especially with what he had to tell the two of them. "I'll tell you when we get to my room in the Sorcerer's Tower. It—It has to do with my mother."
Again, Ygritte didn't necessarily seem to care, but Arianne's eyes lit up when he mentioned his mother. 'I wonder just how long her eyes will stay that way,' he thought sullenly as the three of them left his room in the family wing and made their way out into the open of Winterfell. 'I'm…scared to tell her. Scared that she'll go away. That things will change between us. But…But I – gods help me, I think I love her. I don't want to lose her. And the longer I keep this hidden, the worse it will be if and when she learns the truth of my birth.'
In what seemed like no time at all, the three of them had crossed Winterfell and climbed the stairs within the Sorcerer's Tower. Reaching his room in the tower, Jon immediately opened the door and went for his bed. Kneeling, Jon reached under the bed and used the Force to lift a loose rock, revealing a small hidden compartment the size of a man's head. The only item within was a single slim book that Jon had memorized from front to back. Holding the book in his hand, Jon let his senses flow out, trying to see if there was anyone else in the Tower. But besides from his Master, who immediately pushed back on his probe to such a degree that Jon was nearly sent stumbling, there was no one else in the tower. Walking past Ygritte and Arianne, Jon shut the door to his room and secured the latch to make sure that no one would be able to walk in on them.
"Alright, Stark, you brought us here and ya got some book in yer hand," Ygritte said, plopping herself down on the bed. "Ya gonna tell us what this shite is 'bout' yer mother yet?"
Nodding, Jon slowly turned the book over in his hand. "Aye. This…This is the only thing I have of my mother. Her last words…before she died."
Sensing Arianne approaching, Jon didn't move as she gently rested her hand on his shoulder. "The last words of Ashara Dayne? She sent them to Winterfell?"
"No," Jon replied, shaking his head. "These…Ashara Dayne is not my mother. My mother…She…Gods, it'd be easier if you just read it yourself."
Frowning, Arianne took the slim book from him and immediately began reading. She barely managed to get through the first page before her face went ashen as her hands started trembling. "Your…Your mother is – was…Lyanna Stark?"
Clearly not understanding the significance of the name, Ygritte stared blankly at Jon and Arianne. "Who be she? Lord Stark's first wife or somethin?"
"No," Jon shook his head. "Lyanna Stark was Eddard Stark's sister. And before you ask, while I consider Eddard Stark to be my father, he is not the one who sired me."
"Alright," Ygritte replied slowly. "So, who put ya in yer mother? And why would Lord Stark claim ye as his own if that were not true?"
"Because his father is Rhaegar Targaryen…That fucking silver haired piece of shit!" Arianne cursed loudly through clenched teeth as she had continued reading on while now pacing furiously.
Sitting down next to Ygritte, Jon ran a hand through his hair as he tried to steady his nerves while he watched Arianne continue to pace. "Rhaegar Targaryen was the former Crown Prince, the future King of Westeros. And husband to Elia Martell, Arianne's aunt."
From there, Jon began telling Ygritte and Arianne everything he knew about the events of Harrenhal and the Rebellion that he managed to piece together after talking to his father and reading his mother's last words. From the love affair that blossomed between Elia and Lyanna, to Rhaegar taking his wife away so that she could be his second wife, to the death of his uncle and grandfather at the hands of the Mad King and then the subsequent Rebellion that followed their deaths. Then to the terrible fate that befell Elia Martell when the Lannister army sacked King's Landing. And lastly, he told them both of what happened at the Tower of Joy, where his mother died to bring him into this world. For some strange reason, telling the two the secret of his birth was oddly…relieving. He'd only known the truth for a year now, and it had been weighing heavily on his mind and soul the entire time. Not only the knowing, but also not being able to tell anyone for fear that the wrong ears might catch wind of the secret. He honestly had no idea how his father managed to keep the secret to himself for as long as he had! By the time he finished, Arianne had ceased her pacing and was now sitting down and reading over his mother's words for a second time while Ygritte merely sat in silence trying to work everything out in her head.
"So, yer sire was the future King of all ye kneelers, eh?" Ygritte finally asked as she tilted her head towards him. "Does that mean that ye are the future King of the kneelers then too?"
Folding his hands together and placing them under his nose, Jon leaned forward slightly. "Technically…yes. But if the truth of my birth ever came out…"
"Then it would mean war," Arianne finished for him, closing the book and setting it aside. He dearly wished that he could get a read on her, but she was like a blank slate to him right now, both on the outside and through the Force. "The Baratheons would not stand for a Targaryen Prince to still be alive and in Westeros. Not to mention the likes of the lion fucker, Tywin Lannister. If Jon's status became known both would either send assassins, demand his head, or even march their armies north to personally kill him. And I doubt even Robert's friendship with Lord Stark would give him reason to pause. Then there are those who still hold loyalty to the dragons and would rise in his name, even if he didn't want them to. In short, all of Westeros would be plunged into war. And given what happened during the Rebellion and in the years since then, there is no guarantee that each kingdom would side completely one way or another."
"Which is why I have to remain as the bastard son of Eddard Stark," Jon said, looking at the two women who'd worked their way into his heart in a such a short time. "I – My father would more than likely be furious at me for telling you two this. But I – I couldn't stand keeping this from either of you. And I—I will understand if this changes things between us."
"Why would it change anything between us?" Ygritte asked almost immediately. "It don matter ta me who yer mother or father is. Yer still Jon. Still the man strong enough to steal me in the midst of a battle. An I ain't leavin yer side that easily Stark."
Feeling heartened by Ygritte's response, Jon placed his hand over hers and gave her a smile of thanks before turning towards Arianne. The Princess of Dorne was staring at him with that same blank look and empty feeling that was starting to push Jon towards the brink of despair. "There are many in Dorne that would curse and spit on your name for your very existence," she said, making Jon wince. "But I…I am not one of them. I can tell by reading your mother's words that that my aunt, regardless of Rhaegar's stupidity, loved your mother. And she would roll in her grave if anyone in the Martell family felt anything but love for the son she wanted to share with her love. But tell me true, Jon. Do you plan on putting your name forward and making your claim for the Iron Throne?"
Biting his lip, Jon took a moment to collect himself before answering. "I would be lying if I said I had never thought of it. But truthfully, I do not want the throne. All that would come from me putting my claim forward would be blood and tears. I just want to live my life the way I want to. With you two. Whether it be in Dorne, or here in the North. That is all I want."
Nodding, Arianne rose to her feet. For a moment, Jon was afraid she would turn and leave, but instead she crossed the distance between them and pulled his head into her midriff. "If that is what you want…Then that is what you will have, my wolf. It won't be an easy road for us no matter which path we choose, but together we can face any enemy. Ygritte will take care of those who come at us from afar. Jon will handle those who get close to us. And I will handle the enemies we cannot see. But no matter what or who we face, we will do it together."
Jon's relief was so great that he all but collapsed into Arianne as he brought his arms around her, holding on as if she were his life. Which…wasn't too far from the truth at the moment.
"So, Jon is Jon and we're alright with that, yes?" Ygritte asked, to which he could feel Arianne nod her agreement. "Good. So, now can we get back to the fuckin? Our wolf here neglected me needs for weeks! And I've got quite an appetite that even last night didn't satisfy."
Rolling over, Tyrion Lannister fought against the beating of drums echoing throughout his head as he slowly, very slowly, opened his eyes. And was greeted promptly by the sight of a horse's nose less than an arm's length from his own face. Looking around, he slowly managed to piece together where he was through the pounding pain in his head. 'The stables…Winterfell. Hells, these Northerners sure do know how to throw a celebration…and those Free Folk certainly know how to drink.'
"Well," he groaned, pushing the horse's nose aside as he slowly got to his feet. "I suppose I should be thankful that I woke up on this end of the horse…this time."
"Well, Tyrion, I can't say I'm necessarily surprised to find you here of all places."
Turning his head just enough to see who was behind him, Tyrion huffed and proceeded to dust off his clothes. Standing just outside the stables, neither looking worse for wear considering the celebrations last night, were his Uncle Gerion and his cousin Joy. "Please, Uncle, like this is the worst of places to wake up in. Shall I regale young Joy here of the time when I was but a lad of ten-and-three and found you pass—?"
"We don't need to go into that!" Gerion replied quickly, his eyes glancing off young Joy, who was just standing back and watching the two with the slightest of grins on her face.
"No need to, father," Joy replied as Tyrion slowly made his way out of the stable and towards the two. "I've already heard quite a few tales of your exploits. Is it really true that you took a donkey to a brothel?"
Tyrion couldn't help but laugh at the way his uncle's face paled then went red. "That wasn't your father, young Joy," Tyrion said, wanting credit to belong where it was deserved. "That one was me. And it wasn't just a jackass but also a honeycomb and—"
"She doesn't need to hear about that, Tyrion," Gerion growled, making Tyrion and Joy laugh lightly, which immediately brought a raging pain to Tyrion's head as he was painfully reminded of just why he was sleeping in the stables in the first place.
Smirking through the pain in his head, Tyrion emerged from the stables with his uncle and cousin and looked around Winterfell. Normally by this time in the day, it wouldn't have been unusual to see dozens of guards patrolling the walls, or craftsman and merchants going about their day. But today, the keep of Winterfell was almost completely void of life and activity. 'A true testament to just how enjoyable the celebrations were last night. Given what I saw, I wouldn't be surprised if Winterfell and Winter Town saw a sudden influx of babies in the next nine moons or so.'
"And how did the other guests of Winterfell fare last night?" Tyrion asked as the trio began walking towards the great keep in search of some food to break their fast.
Gerion merely shrugged as they entered the keep. "To no great surprise, the Dornish ended up pretty much everywhere last night. And the Tyrells pretty much stayed to themselves. Though I have heard that both the Tyrells and the Martells are planning on making their leave within the next day or two."
'Which means that both Houses have gotten what they came for,' Tyrion deduced as the three Lannisters found a table and sat down to wait for the servants to bring them something to eat. 'The Tyrells are easy enough to figure out. They got their wolf bride, so they have no reason to remain. But the Martells? There was no great announcement last night pertaining to the Dornish. Nor have any of their own been accepted by the Sorcerer like young Joy here. What changed last night? Did the Martells get what they wanted? Or have they given up?'
Feeling something small and soft hit him in the face, Tyrion blinked and shook his head. The culprit wasn't hard to find, as Joy was sitting directly across from him, her fingers making small circular motions in the air just above the surface of the table. And just below her fingers were small bits of food that were following the patterns her fingers were making as if they were connected by a string. "Well, I dare say that you are shaping up to be one impressive Sorceress, dear cousin," Tyrion smirked, wiping at his face. "Though I think I may have missed the part of Nox's lessons where he taught the lot of you how to use your powers to make a catapult with bits of food being your rocks. And speaking of food…when did it arrive?"
Laughing, Joy continued twirling her fingers, lifting a piece of meat off her plate before popping it into her mouth without it ever once touching her fingers or utensils. "A sorceress in training must always find new ways to practice her art, dear cousin."
"And a Lady of House Lannister must remember her manners when at the table," Gerion said not unkindly as he shot his daughter a glance from the corner of his eye.
"Sorry, father," Joy said, lowering her hand and letting the second piece of food she'd been floating drop.
Smiling, Tyrion watched as Gerion reached over and took his daughter's hand. It was a touching moment. A moment between a parent and their child. One that Tyrion had never been able to experience. Not with a father like his. But maybe, just maybe one day, he would be able to experience what it felt like to be in the same position as his uncle and cousin. "Unless, of course, you are launching food at Tyrion here. In which case, fire at will, my dear."
Giving his uncle a look of betrayal, Tyrion grumbled as he slowly picked at the food that'd been placed before him. "With the Tyrells and Martells departure imminent, I suppose that means that we should be making our leave as well," he commented, giving his uncle and cousin a sympathetic look as he saw Joy's face fall slightly and Gerion frown.
"Yes, we will," Gerion sighed. It was clear that the man did not want to leave his daughter again, not after having been absent from her life for so long. But they could not in good faith continue playing on the hospitality of the Starks. Staying back, Tyrion watched as father and daughter turned their faces towards one another. "I'll be sending ravens as frequently as I can, my little lioness. And I'll be making a trip north with the trade vessels whenever your uncle allows me to leave."
Joy's eyes shined with unshed tears as she nodded and leaned into her father. Tyrion felt more than slightly out of place watching the display. Especially as he'd never been in such a situation himself. Ever. Not after he killed his mother coming into this world, earning the eternal scorn of his father and sister for the act and for the sin of being born a dwarf. "And speaking of my father, young Joy," Tyrion coughed, unfortunately breaking the moment between father and daughter. "We all know that he has placed certain…expectations on you for your time here, outside of learning all that you can from the Sorcerer."
Joy's cheeks reddened and his uncle glared at him. "I – I know what is expected of me by—"
"Yes, well, you might as well forget it, my dear," Tyrion quipped, bringing Joy up short. "The boy has caught the attention of not only a spearwife, but the Princess of Dorne as well. And while you are indeed a beauty that can match even the most beautiful of desert roses, I'm fairly certain that Dorne's decision to leave coincides with them getting their fangs into the boy."
The look that flashed across Joy's face was one of relief, sadness, and fear all rolled into one. "But…what about…?"
"You let your father and I deal with him," Tyrion said firmly. That man had already fucked over Tyrion's life in more ways than he cared to count. He certainly wasn't about to let Joy fall into the same position he was in just because she couldn't catch the eye of a young man who already had the eye of two beautiful women. "You just focus on learning everything you can about this wonderful power of yours, my dear. Try and have a little fun while you're here as well. I've seen you, the young Stark girl, and Lady Baratheon out playing while everyone else went north. Keep that up, my dear. Live your life the way you want to. Not the way someone else wants you to." 'At least this way one member of our pride will be able to live a happy life.'
Joy's eyes once again shined with unshed tears as she nodded. "Thank you, cousin," she said with a small smile. "And don't worry. I'll keep an eye on her while I'm here. She's family, after all."
Tyrion's hand stilled momentarily as he was reaching for the pitcher of water that was next to him. "Oh? And who is this 'she' that is family? Perhaps you mean Lady Shireen? I suppose we are family through the marriage of Cersei to Robert."
"That's not who she's talking about, Tyrion, and you know it," Gerion replied, he and his daughter wearing identical smirks as they both stared at him. "We're talking about the girl who works in the Sorcerer's library. Anna."
Tyrion could've continued to play the game where he didn't know what they were referring to, but he could tell that it would be meaningless at this point. They both clearly knew just who Anna was in relation to himself. Now he just needed to figure out how they knew, and how to prevent others from learning. It wasn't that he was worried about Stark finding out about her and taking advantage of the leverage he could gain. But rather that the more people that knew of her existence, the greater the chance of his father finding out about her. And that was something that he could not allow. Not right now. "And how did you both come to learn of her?"
The father and daughter shared a look before focusing back on him. "It wasn't that hard to figure out, Tyrion," Gerion replied, much to Tyrion's chagrin. "I may have only met my niece in King's Landing once, but it was recent, and I have a good memory. And that girl that now resides in the Sorcerer's tower and Myrcella could practically use each other as mirrors. Then there are her eyes. While they might not be the same as yours, the fact that she has two colors of eyes is a rare trait that I've only ever seen in yourself. And lastly, while your love of books is known to pretty much all, even you tended to wander to the library far too frequently, and only when she was there. Put all of that together, and it wasn't a difficult conclusion to reach."
Glancing around, Tyrion made sure once again that there were no unwanted ears nearby. But even still, he spoke in a low tone so that only his uncle and cousin could hear him. "And what do you think I should do? You know what happened to…You know what happened to her. I – I can't risk my father learning of my…of her."
Setting his utensils down, Gerion folded his hands under his nose. "My brother, your father, is an uncaring, selfish, brutish ass of the highest order, Tyrion. But for all of his many, many faults and sins he is willing to commit. There is still one sin he will not come near. Kinslaying."
Scoffing, Tyrion pushed his plate away, his hunger gone. "Perhaps. But that would be assuming who he even considers to be kin. You know how good he is at working things out so that he is 'justified' in his actions."
"Oh, you need not remind me of that, Tyrion," Gerion sighed while nodding. "And it's not just your father that we must consider, but those who would seek to use her either to hurt or take advantage of yourself or House Lannister. As painful as it is to say, anonymity is her shield right now. Truthfully, perhaps the safest place in all the Seven Kingdoms for her right now is right where she is. As she is. Perhaps in the future that will change, and the truth can come out."
Burying his head in his hands, Tyrion rubbed tiredly at his eyes. He hated it, gods he hated this. But it was the truth. Even if by some miracle his father decided to be a decent being, unlikely, and recognize her as Tyrion's daughter, he knew that her life would be a shit one. Far shittier than the one she currently had anyway. And as cowardly as it was, he really did not want to tell his daughter the truth. The truth of her mother and himself and what happened between them.
Feeling a light touch on his arm, Tyrion picked his head up just enough to see Joy's warm smiling face. "I'll look after her, cousin. I promise."
Tyrion was seriously starting to consider that all of the warmth and kindness the gods had neglected to give his sister had instead been passed on down to both of his nieces. "Thank you," he said, giving Joy's hand a light pat and returning her smile with one of his own.
"Well then," Tyrion continued as he managed to get down the last little bit of food that he felt his stomach could handle considering its condition due to his overindulgence the night before. "As we will no doubt be leaving alongside the others tomorrow, I think I shall spend the remainder of my time in Winterfell in the library…going over my notes as it were."
"Of course," Gerion smirked while waving him off. "Spend as much time with your 'notes' as you can, Tyrion. I plan on spending every moment I can with Joy here until we leave tomorrow or the day after. Gods only know when my brother will 'allow' us to leave the Rock again to come North."
Giving his uncle and cousin one last nod of farewell, Tyrion gathered himself and made his way out of the keep before turning towards the looming Sorcerer's Tower which stood tall over all of Winterfell. But after taking a few steps, a strong gust of wind changed his mind as he was able to catch a whiff of himself on the breeze. 'I guess a bath is in order first,' he thought, lifting his arm and smelling under it, and instantly regretting it as he realized the constant smell of barn that'd been following him around all morning was in fact coming from himself. 'Bath. New clothes. And then to the library to spend what little time I have left here with my daughter. Then back south to my oh so cheerful father. Then to King's Landing. Jamie and I are far past overdue for a very, very long talk.'
Standing alongside his wife flanking the members of House Stark and with his new Acolytes standing resolutely behind him, Nox watched as the members of the Great Houses of Lannister, Tyrell, and Martell all said their final goodbyes to the wolves of the North. It was rather touching in a way. While it would be naive to say that true friendships had been formed during the month, it was true that alliances had been formed as well as mutual respect. Willas, in a show of what Nox considered over the top chivalry, gently placed a kiss onto the back of Sansa's hand before asking Ned's permission to write Sansa while they were apart. Gerion Lannister exchanged a lengthy and teary goodbye with his daughter Joy. And even though the little man managed to hide it, Nox could see clear through Tyrion as the smallest of the lions' gaze settled in on a lone blond girl who was staying near the back with the rest of the younger servants of Winterfell.
Of course, it was the Martells that'd been the ones to truly show everyone how you said goodbye to someone. In full view of the entirety of Winterfell, Arianne had made her stance in no uncertain terms as she marched straight up to Jon and pulled him into a heated and lengthy kiss. Causing no shortages of whistles and cheers of encouragement as the surprisingly strong Princess locked Jon in a tight embrace and refused to let him go, not that he was honestly trying hard from the looks of it, until both needed to come up for air. Then as if to up her game, Arianne then walked over to Ygritte, who was defying all set precedents by refusing to be anywhere besides next to Jon and repeated the same goodbye with her. The sight of the two women all but mauling each other caused even more whistles and cheers, and more than a few blushes and mutterings of how Jon was 'one lucky bastard'. 'Lucky now,' Nox thought as he watched through the Force as Arianne pulled back and made her way towards the Martell contingent. 'But just wait for the day when he manages to anger the both of them at the same time. Then he will wish he'd never been born.'
As the Martells finished loading themselves into their carriages, Nox felt one pair of eyes linger on him. Turning his head slightly, he gave the briefest of nods to Prince Oberyn as his mind wandered back to the conversation the two of them shared in his tower the morning after the wedding between Asher and Gwyn.
Feeling Oberyn approaching his meditation chambers, Nox waved his hand behind him, unlocking and opening the door just as the Prince of Dorne reached out to grab hold of the latch. "You and the wolves with your habit of predicting just when you are about to have visitors," Oberyn smirked as he walked into the sparsely furnished room before closing and locking the door behind him. "I would ask how you lot are capable of knowing exactly when to open your doors, from across the room no less, but I already know the answer to that. Such a shame that you cannot teach me that trick. It would be quite entertaining to make use of it in the middle of a brothel. But I digress. I do hope that I am not interrupting anything, my friend."
"No," Nox answered honestly, getting up from his knees. "My apprentice, your niece, and the spearwife are making such a racket and commotion through the Force that I would be surprised if anyone would be able to concentrate in the entirety of the North."
Oberyn laughed, his amusement flowing off of him. "Yes, I heard them on my way up. I do believe that Arianne and Ygritte are attempting to find out who has the better set of lungs on them. Either that, or that apprentice of yours has more than a few tricks up his sleeves. Though from what I hear, Nox, you shouldn't be one to judge. I've heard that you and Nyra have kept most of Winterfell awake on more than a few occasions."
"Guilty as charged, my friend," Nox laughed, remembering that last night had been exactly that type of night. Though he assumed that was true for most of Winterfell. "Though I doubt you came here to talk about the sexual prowess of those trained in the ways of the Force. And before you ask, no, I will not give you and Ellaria a firsthand demonstration until my wife is comfortable with such acts."
Oberyn's look was one of pure innocence. "What is that old saying? If you fail once, just try again? But you're right. I didn't come here to talk about your sexual prowess. More the pity that. But rather I want to talk to you about your apprentice. Or more specifically, when you plan on putting the heir to the Iron Throne back where he belongs."
Nox didn't even twitch a muscle as he figuratively stared Oberyn down. "Fairly blunt and to the point. One could almost accuse you of being a Stark with that type of approach, Oberyn."
He could feel the man's eyes roll. "Gods forbid. It's been entertaining here, but far too cold for my tastes. And I do not have yours nor my brother's gift for word games or the game as a whole. Speaking of which, my brother sends his respect for the play you made on him with just a single seemingly innocent question. Now, if you're quite done having me kiss your ass, perhaps you will answer my question?"
Turning, Nox took a few steps towards one of the walls that contained a bookshelf with dozens of books looted from Valyria scattered across it. "My apprentice will make his own decision in that regard, as he is fully aware of his lineage. And as for if and when, that is variable to such a degree that an exact answer is not feasible at this time."
Oberyn's annoyance spiked. "That wasn't an answer, Nox."
"It is as good as an answer as you will be getting from me at this time, my friend," Nox shot back in the same tone that Oberyn had used.
Oberyn was clearly not pleased with his response, and it was showing. "So then, tell me, friend. What is it that you are planning? House Stark has risen from a backwater House that few cared about to one of power and influence, all thanks to you. Now you have ties throughout all of Westeros and even some in Essos with that Maegyr girl. Don't tell me that you are planning on making your own play for the Iron Throne."
"No, I have no designs on placing myself on the Iron Throne," Nox answered truthfully. "But as I can see that you will not part until you get the answer you seek, I will tell you this. The reasoning for everything I have done and will do in the future all comes down to a single threat. The White Walkers and their ilk."
Pausing, Nox decided that it was time to clue Oberyn in slightly as he knew that having the Red Viper, and by extension Prince Doran who would no doubt learn of this conversation the moment Oberyn stepped foot back in Dorne, on his side would further his long-term goals. "When I first arrived in Winterfell, I had no intention of staying for long. However, that changed on my very first night when I saw a vision of the future. Or rather I had visions of thousands of possible futures. And in each one I saw the same thing. The darkness that is coming from the far north swallowing everything in its path and burying first Westeros and then all of the world in its darkness. Yet through all the visions of defeat, I saw a path to victory. A path of hardship and sacrifice. Yet one that would not only see to the end of the White Walkers, but one that would also see this land thrive after their defeat. And that, Oberyn, is why I have not left the North. That is why I went to Valyria. And that is why I am building up the North into a true power in Westeros. Should the North fall when they come, and make no mistake they are coming, then the rest of the land will fall with them."
Oberyn took a moment to think over what he'd said. No doubt replaying his own encounter with the White Walker north of the Wall over and over again in his mind. "Shit," the prince mumbled after several long moments of silence. "Well, I guess that explains why you haven't left the North at all, despite the numerous offerings of gold, position, and women you must've received over the years from the lords across all of Westeros."
"One of them, yes," Nox nodded.
Oberyn caught his meaning immediately, if only a part of it anyway. "Ah yes, the warmth of a good woman is certainly enough to make any man remain in place for some time. Unless of course you find a woman like my Ellaria who loves adventure and variety as much as I do."
"I do believe that you and Ellaria enjoy your adventures and variety to the point where you two alone could sate half of Westeros." Nox commented dryly.
"Only half?" Oberyn asked good naturedly. "Hm. I suppose that we will have to up our outings then." Despite the friendly banter, Oberyn sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. "Fine. Keep your secrets, sorcerer. But know this: should events unfold where truths are forced into the open…our friendship will not be enough to ensure you of Dorne's support. It will take something more…binding to get the spears of Dorne on your side."
Just then, a cry of pleasure echoed throughout the halls of the tower, reaching even the two of them in the privacy of Nox's meditation chamber. "Do you honestly think that will be a problem? All things considered?"
Tilting his head, Oberyn smirked and shook his head as a second cry sounded, almost as if it were trying to outdo the first. "No. I do not think that will be a problem. But it is something that needs to be said. But even if some truths are left in the shadows…you will have my spear at your side. For a price."
Nox figured that would be the case. "I know what your price is, Oberyn. And should events arrange themselves in a certain way, then you will have your price."
Back in the present, Nox gave a slow nod to Prince Oberyn, one which the man returned before swinging himself almost effortlessly up onto his horse. After one last farewell from Ned to all the Houses, the members of House Tyrell, Lannister, and Martell rode out of Winterfell before turning and going their own separate ways home. Once their guests were outsight, the denizens of Winterfell began to disperse as they all returned to their daily routines. Turning, Nox gave a passing glance through the Force at his assembled acolytes and apprentices. 'Two Apprentices and six acolytes with a seventh still in diapers. Not a bad start all things considered.'
"Well, what are you lot standing around for?" Nox asked, jolting his acolytes and apprentices with the sudden harshness of his tone. "Show's over. And the day has just barely started. Jon. Robb. Get the acolytes started on their daily routines. If I'm not satisfied with their progress by the time I reach the training yard, you two will face my displeasure."
Jon and Robb both immediately went stiff before quickly moving to get the others to the training yard to begin their daily regime. While Nox hadn't stooped to the level of many Sith by outright torturing his Acolytes or Apprentices who displeased him, Nox was more than willing to doll out interesting and inventive means of showing his displeasure. Like the time he'd had Jon create a pile of pebbles as tall as himself by hand, only to tell him he then had to move the entire pile across Winterfell only this time using just the Force and without colliding with anyone. And seeing as how Jon and Robb were both now his Apprentices, it was far past time to up their training. Which in part meant that they were to start by becoming the teacher instead of the student.
With his Apprentices and Acolytes now out of sight, Nox turned his head south, his senses flowing out and following the three Houses on their way home. 'The board is almost set. Now it's time to truly build the pieces.'
Watching the towers of Moat Cailin slowly shrink in the distance behind them, Olenna allowed herself to relax for what felt like the first time since they'd entered the northern lands. She couldn't necessarily put it into words, but ever since they'd entered the North, she'd felt as if she were being constantly watched, no matter where she was. And it was only now that they were well south of the Northern border that she felt that constant watching presence disappear. 'Wouldn't put it past the sorcerer to be the cause. Though even with how powerful he is, and his power is without question now that Willas and Garlan have personally seen what he can do, I doubt even he is powerful enough to watch over someone even leagues away from where he is.'
"Grandmother, are you alright?"
"Hmm?" Olenna hummed, turning her attention back to the only other occupant in the carriage with her.
Despite having his leg healed, Willas had yet to regain his former endurance on a horse and therefore was spending a fair amount of time in the carriage with her while Margaery and her new handmaiden Myra rode in the carriage behind them. "I'm fine," she said, waving off the concerned look on her grandson's face. "These old bones are just glad to finally be out of the cold and back into some semblance of warmth."
Willas gave her a look and shook his head. "That isn't it, grandmother." Gods curse the North. She didn't know how it happened but seemingly overnight her grandchildren had all learned how to see through whenever she was trying to evade a certain line of questioning or trying to pull the wool over their eyes. "You're concerned. But why? We achieved everything we hoped and more. Our relationship with the Starks has improved tenfold. And I – I'm now betrothed to Sansa Stark, even if the wedding will not happen for years. Something I am quite frankly thankful for. Lord Stark has even allowed us to appoint a tutor for Lady Sansa so her transition will be easy on her. And we were able to learn how the Northerners are making their glass and we have even gained an understanding of how their printing presses work so that I can begin to replicate them as soon as we return to Highgarden."
As soon as her grandson finished speaking, Olenna promptly brought her fan up and smacked Willas atop his head. "Fool," she muttered as Willas rubbed at the spot she'd struck. "It is precisely because we achieved everything we set out to achieve that has me concerned. The wolves knew exactly what we wanted even before we arrived. And they all but gave it to us without us even having to really ask. Now think for a moment, Willas, use that mind that I know you have. Why would they do that? Why would they readily give away the secrets that have propelled the North from little more than barbarians to one of, if not the, most powerful region in Westeros in little less than ten years?"
Willlas turned his head and stared out the window as he thought on her question. "Because they no longer have a need to keep it to themselves. Meaning that they have new ways and methods of advancement that we have not yet seen."
"Exactly," Olenna nodded, thinking back to the strange exchange she took note of while the leader of the wolf pack was away from Winterfell. "While you lot were all making friends north of the Wall, I happened to notice something that I doubt wanted to be noticed. A group of men carrying a chest in a manner that screamed they did not want to be seen. It took more than a few coins, but I was eventually able to find a loose tongue or two and managed to learn that the men carrying the chest were surveyors and miners."
Willas blinked and rubbed at his chin. "Not unheard of, grandmother. We send surveyors and miners out all the time."
"That we do," she nodded. "But whatever they found was important, otherwise they wouldn't have brought it immediately to the only remaining person of station in Winterfell, Lady Nox. Copper, silver, iron? All these things could've waited until Stark returned from beyond the Wall. But no. Whatever they found was important enough that they brought it immediately to the Stewardess of Winterfell. To my upmost annoyance, I was unable to find any of the surveyors or miners again to try and learn what they'd found. And I'm not dumb enough to try and send someone to rummage through the chambers of wolves."
Again, Willas looked thoughtful. "Gold. Or something else of equal or greater value."
"Yes," Olenna nodded with a sigh. "Then there are the concerns with your betrothed as well."
Blinking, Willas snapped back to her. "What about Sansa?"
Reaching over to one of the compartments in the carriage, Olenna pulled out a brick of cheese and cut off a slice. "That girl may appear sweet and innocent. But I guarantee you, Willas, that she is anything but. Oh, don't make that face! I'm not saying she's anything like the women from Dorne that are looking to fuck anything with a cock that moves. No. Even at her age, she's already well learned in the game. Give her five more years of tutelage under the likes of Nox and his woman? She will become a player of the game on par with any in the realm. Even though she will carry the Tyrell name, make no mistake that that girl's allegiance will be to her pack first and foremost. At least until you put a babe in her and give her a pack of her own to look after, that is. Plus, lest we forget, but the Dornish princess managed to firmly grasp perhaps the strongest of the wolf pack by the cock and clearly has no intention of letting go anytime soon. And the fact that the Lannisters have now managed to get one of their own under the tutelage of the Sorcerer while we have not? So, tell me, Willas, do you think we truly managed to come out on top during this trip to the North?"
Willas went mercifully quiet after her tirade as he took in the full weight of her words. Leaning back in his seat, her grandson scratched behind his ear as he thought on where to go from here. "We will need to send out ravens to the Houses in the Reach informing them of my betrothal to Sansa Stark," Willas stated. "There will no doubt be some complaints, but mostly those will come from the Houses that aspired to seeing their daughter as the next Lady Tyrell. But the knowledge that we have the backing of the Starks will give us some breathing room. We will also need to send word to Loras. We need to get Margaery and Garlan to court, but not immediately. I have the same thought as you grandmother regarding the King and the Starks, and how King Robert no doubt hoped to betroth his son to Sansa. He might feel as if we've stolen his son's future bride from him. So, we should give him some time before we make our presence known at court."
"I agree," Olenna nodded, glad that her grandson had not inherited his father's fondness for being a fool. "But why Garlan and not yourself? It would be far better for the future Lord of Highgarden and Warden of the South to forge relationships with the King and the Crown Prince, not to mention the rest of the court."
"No, at least not yet." Willas responded. "Even after the king gets over his initial disappointment about losing the Stark girl for his son, I believe it would be prudent of us if I avoid King's Landing for some time. At least until after my wedding has come to pass. The last thing we need is to stoke the King's anger at us over by bringing the one who 'stole' Sansa from him and his son. Also, I believe it would be prudent to send Garlan to King's Landing because he can give voice to what he saw north of the Wall regarding the…White Walkers."
Just hearing the name of the ancient mythical creatures made Olenna want to curse and spit. Even after hearing it directly from her grandson, who she knew not to be a fool, it was a hard concept to grasp. A creature of legend that nearly brought the realm of men to its knees, only to be beaten back in the Age of Heroes. And now, after eight thousand years without ever showing themselves, they were back. Why? Why now of all times? She could deal with the likes of Tywin Lannister, Jon Arryn, and Doran Martell. But the White Walkers? She wouldn't even know where to begin with those blasted creatures.
"That will be kept quiet for now," she said to her grandson. "Our position, while better than it was a month ago, is still precarious. If we go shouting that creatures long since thought to be but myths were back to kill us all, our bannermen will lose what little restraint they have left and decide that it is time for a new House to take rulership of the Reach. And seeing as how Stark and Nox haven't announced to the realm the return of these creatures, it is safe to say that they are of a similar mindset."
Willas nodded. "Yes. Until actual proof of these creatures can be presented before the realm, I doubt any would believe them to be real. But still, that doesn't mean we should just remain still. We can use what we've learned from the North to begin preparing. I've got a rough schematic of the blast furnace they use to mass produce their steel, as well as a drawing of their printing press. The only difficulty will be in procuring enough raw materials once both are up and going. I do believe that Archmaester Marwyn will be most interested in the printing press once we show him how it works. And we can also begin training our men at arms using the few drills that I noticed the Sorcerer put the Stark men at arms through daily."
Nodding along as her grandson continued to lay out what needed to be done upon their return, Olenna peered out the window at the slowly setting sun in the west. 'We accomplished all we wanted and more in the North. But for every one thing that went our way, two more problems rose to take their place. Yet, despite all we learned, there is still one thing that eludes even myself. And that is just what in the Seven hells the sorcerer's long-term goals are. Then there's also the snakes. Tywin's game is easy enough to predict. House Lannister is already in power, so he just has to work at keeping them there. But the Martells? The one who believes the likes of Doran and Oberyn are willing to do nothing about the death of Elia are bloody fools. They have a game afoot. One that clearly involves Jon Stark. But the only question is what is it?'
Walking through the makeshift camp that her countrymen had assembled just off the Kingsroad, Arianne Martell kept her sight set on one of the two large tents that'd been pitched not too far from her own. They'd managed to cover nearly half the distance between Winterfell and White Harbor, and it was only now that Arianne felt that they were not only alone enough, but that she was ready to have a conversation that she knew was going to be extremely hard. Stopping just outside the flaps of the tent, she glanced towards the two men of House Martell that'd been assigned to guard her for the day. "No one gets close enough to hear what is being said inside this tent until I leave. And I mean no one. Not even my cousins."
The two men nodded and took up their positions near the entrance to the tent, spears at the ready. Taking one last moment to steel herself, Arianne pushed open the tent flap and ducked inside. Giggling instantly reached her ears as she spotted her uncle with Lady Ellaria on his lap. "Ah, my beloved niece, unless you wish to stay for a show and learn a few tricks to show your wolf boy next time you see him, I would suggest that whatever you have to say can wait till the morning." Oberyn said as he tightened his hold on Ellaria while beginning to trail kisses up and down her neck.
Nearly sighing at her uncle's antics, Arianne put as much steel as she could into her voice. "What I have to say cannot wait any longer, uncle. And it is something that must be discussed between the two of us. In private. Lady Ellaria, please leave."
Her tone worked as Lady Ellaria, much to her uncle's surprise, immediately got up from her spot on his lap and left after giving her a quick curtsy. "Well," her uncle sighed as he got up and went over to pour himself a glass of wine. "Seeing as how you disrupted the pleasant evening I had planned, I guess we can talk. Drink?"
"No," she replied, waiting until Oberyn had retaken his seat with a drink in hand before pushing on with what she wanted to know. "I will ask this only once, uncle. How long have you known? And please, do not play dumb and ask what I'm asking about. You are not a fool, and neither am I. Tell me how long you and my father have known."
Her uncle took a slow drink, his usual smile slipping from his face. "How did you figure it out?"
"He told me," Arianne replied. "He would not have what is growing between us built on a lie. And he has the last words of his mother to back his claims. It wasn't difficult then to realize that you knew as well, considering how frequently you were encouraging my pursuit of a relationship with him. If you knew, that meant that my father knew as well."
"I see," her uncle nodded thoughtfully. "In truth, your father and I suspected this, but we were not entirely sure on the matter. We only had these suspicions after the treachery of the Maesters was revealed, and we discovered a raven's scroll from Elia in the Maester's chambers. It was written in a code known only to those of House Martell, so the Maester, may his soul rot in whatever hells awaited him, was unable to learn its contents. But in her last words to us, Elia beseeched your father and I to find her love and give her, and any offspring she might have, our protection."
So, they hadn't known before her first meeting with Jon. That made her feel…slightly better. That still didn't change the fact that her father and uncle knew the truth of Jon. And given how her uncle had been behaving towards her relationship with Jon, it wasn't a difficult task to assume their goal. "You and my father intended to use me as a honeypot to convince him to throw his name out there and go for what is technically his by birth. Plunging the entire realm into war."
Her uncle frowned. "Arianne, we did not intend to—"
"Then what is your intention, Uncle?" Arianne pressed. She knew her father and uncle better than perhaps anyone else alive. And she knew the people of her homeland. They still cried for vengeance and justice over the fate of Elia and her children. And Jon's true name coming forward, given the divides it would create, would give them the perfect chance to extract said vengeance. "Are you two going to let this slip into the wrong ear and force his hand? Because he has no intention of going for his birthright as he knows the pain and suffering it would bring to the land. And at a time where we can ill afford it if the stories you yourself brought back from north of the Wall are true."
Taking a step closer to her uncle, she pressed on, not giving him the chance to get a word in. "We may not have said the words, uncle. But I am theirs as they are mine. And I will do what is necessary to protect us from the threats that we cannot see. Even if those threats come from my own family."
Turning, she made to leave her uncle to his thoughts, only to pause at the tent flap. "One last thing, uncle. Which would Elia wish for you to do? To force the son of the woman she loved down a road he did not wish to travel for your own vengeance. Or to guide and protect the son of the woman she loved, as I am now committed to doing." Not bothering to hear her uncle's answer, Arianne moved the tent flap aside and marched out of her uncle's presence with her head held high.
Fingers idly tapping against the base of a chalice of wine, Queen Cersei Lannister watched down at the yard below her in disdain as she watched her oaf of a husband kneeling beside her youngest lion Tommen as he instructed the boy on how to properly hold a bow and draw it. Worse yet than the sickening display was the fact that several members of the court had decided that they'd had nothing better to do with their time and were instead watching her lion practice his archery. Including her own little lioness Myrcella, who was slightly blocked from view due to the parasail she was sitting under. Hearing everyone cheering and clapping, Cersei looked up to see Tommen jumping up and down as the fat oaf congratulated him, the arrow that'd been in his hand just moments before now still quivering slightly in the outermost ring of the target less than a dozen paces in front of them.
'Had Jamie actually been teaching Tommen, or if it was Joffrey down there, the arrow would've struck dead center.' Cersei thought with disgust as she watched Robert encourage Tommen to take up another arrow as he began guiding Tommen through his stances once more.
It was all just…sickening to watch. The only reason she stayed was to try and figure out how to get her children, her lion cubs, back from the fat grease and whore-stained hands of her husband. She wasn't sure how it happened, but after the incident with Joffrey and his pet, her two youngest lions had been drawn to Robert. Of course she'd heard the rumors of what caused Robert to go off like he had, that Joffrey killed Tommen's fawn, but that was certainly no reason for her children to start clinging to Robert, or for him to start taking an interest in them. Joffrey at least had the good sense to stay well clear of Robert. Her perfect lion was growing up quite nicely. He was strong. He did what was needed and he recognized that he was above everyone else. He would be an excellent king one day. With her of course by his side helping to guide him. Her other two children though…
Hearing another round of cheering, she saw that Tommen had managed to hit the target once again, this time a ring closer to the middle. Her youngest lion was starting to stay by Robert's side almost constantly, whenever he wasn't whoring of course. She was not about to allow her little cub to be subjected to witnessing or hearing that. This wasn't necessarily something new. Tommen, for some gods forsaken reason, always seemed drawn to Robert. But unlike in the past, Robert didn't simply brush him off. No. Now Robert was taking time out of his day to be with her son. It was like the fool truly believed he was her cub's father. The fool.
Then there was Myrcella. Her dear darling lioness…turned traitor. Her daughter almost seemed to be avoiding her as of late, though for what reason Cersei honestly had no idea. It had to be a rebellious phase. Yes. That had to be it. Both her and Jamie went through the same thing when they were her age and would frequently disobey the commands of their father, particularly by jumping into the Sunset Sea. But in time they both overcame their silly rebellious nature, and she was confident that Myrcella would as well. 'Though I will have to once again procure her new clothing once she comes back around,' Cersei thought, looking down in silent anger at the yellow and black dress Myrcella had chosen to wear today.
Her dresses as of late was another silly rebellious action her daughter took a little more than a moon's turn past. One morning Myrcella had risen and apparently ordered a new wardrobe. Not unheard of as that was her prerogative as a Princess, and an act that Cersei was glad to hear about as it meant that her daughter was finally coming to see that she was truly a Princess and could do whatever she wanted. But to Cersei's dismay, she learned all too late that her daughter had ordered all the wonderful red, crimson, and gold dresses she had to be removed and replaced by dresses that accented the colors of House Baratheon. Of course, as if that wasn't bad enough, her daughter then ordered that the dresses that were to be discarded were to be stripped of anything of value and given to a nearby orphanage. Orphans! Wearing her daughter's clothes! Then she requested that the valuables that'd been removed from the dresses be sold, and the coin made from their sale to be used to purchase food for those same blasted street urchins!
Her actions nearly made Cersei want to slap some sense into her foolish daughter again! Those dresses had been perfect! Made by the best seamstresses in King's Landing and in the colors of House Lannister! And her daughter gave them to filthy street urchins to wear! Just the mere thought of those future whores or beggars wearing the colors of her house made her want to order the guards to end those wretched creatures for good! But she couldn't do that. Not when Robert had been oh so pleased with Myrcella's actions. It was beyond sickening!
"Your grace."
Cersei nearly started at the voice calling to her. Silently cursing to herself, Cersei turned her attention away from the sickening display going on below her and focused on the only man that was able to move quieter than a mouse. Though calling him a 'man' was a stretch by anyone's definition. "Varys," she said flatly, greeting the cockless spy master.
Taking her greeting as an invitation, the eunuch calmly walked forward so that he was standing near to her next to the railing overlooking the training yard below. "I see his grace has decided to take the time to teach your children in the yard," Varys commented idly. Which made her want to scoff. Robert's teachings were about as useful as a scribe with no hands. "Though I only see your youngest amongst those in the yard."
Taking a sip of her wine, Cersei narrowed her eyes at the unspoken implication. "My eldest, the crown prince, has much better things to do with his time than spend them in the yard performing what should be the Master of Arms duties."
In truth, the absence of her eldest troubled her slightly. Not his absence from the yard of course. But the fact that Joffrey had been seemingly wandering off on his own every so often concerned her. The guards she questioned all told her that he was merely surveying the city and learning of the people he would one day rule. And even Joffrey attested to the same when asked. But he only ever went out on these ventures when he wasn't being guarded by the Hound or a member of the Kingsgaurd. 'I will need to replace those guards. Something is going on, and I need to know what.'
"Very true, your grace. The duties of the royal family are indeed numerous and time consuming. And delegation is the key to making sure that everything is done properly."
Scoffing, Cersei set her wine down on the railing. "You have something to tell me, eunuch. Say it and leave."
"Nothing truly secretive, your grace. Just the latest news from the North that will certainly be making the rounds soon enough and causing no shortages of gossiping." Varys replied with a simple shrug. "Your brother and uncle have left Winterfell along with the Tyrells and the Martells. And all of them left with something of value. Your niece, Joy, is now under the tutelage of the Sorcerer alongside Lady Shireen and the other Stark children. The Martells left with a new trade agreement with the North, and if one believes the rumors that are spreading of a possible match between Princess Arianne and the former bastard Jon Stark. And the Tyrells managed to secure a betrothal between the eldest Stark girl, Sansa, and Willas Tyrell. While each House did indeed come away with something of value, one cannot help but think that the Starks will soon be the premier House in Westeros, if they are not already. Not truly surprising now considering the eldest Stark girl will be the next Lady of Highgarden, the bastard boy potentially becoming the next Prince Consort of Dorne and that the Starks are fostering daughters from both House Lannister and House Baratheon. And if rumors are to be believed, there is a relationship forming between the heir of the North, Robb Stark, and a foreign girl named Talisa Maegyr, who just so happens to be the daughter of one of the Triarchs of Volantis."
Cersei immediately wanted to brush off the web that the Spider was spinning. But those last words of his struck a chord within Cersei and made her hold her tongue. She honestly did not care one wit about those northern savages or who they decided to breed with. But when they're plot was laid out like this, it was concerning. And what was worse, there was a good chance the fools didn't even realize they were being used.
The Tyrells were always power-seeking flowers, clinging to whatever or whoever they could to try and rise to greater prominence, never truly understanding their true place as they thought themselves rivals to House Lannister. And the Starks, however galling it was to admit, were rising in prominence as of late. So, it was no surprise that they would seek to attach themselves to the barbarians from the North. The Martells were just a bunch of whores who thought themselves important. And, even though she would never admit it aloud, there was something attractive about the Stark bastard. So, it wasn't really a surprise she supposed that the Dornish whore sought his bed. If those two connections were tied, then the wolves would have leverage in both the Reach and Dorne.
And on top of those two connections, her father had sent Joy to Winterfell as well. Granted, the bastard girl had managed to somehow impress the sorcerer to the point where he apparently decided to teach her his magic. Or perhaps not. Mayhap he was just keeping the bastard around to try and gain leverage on House Lannister. And the Starks already had leverage on the Baratheons, even before Stannis sent his little sniveling daughter to the North.
But as she thought on the situation more, she realized it was worse than what even the eunuch had laid out. For the wolves had blood ties to the Tullys through the dead fish Catelyn Tully, blood that Robb Stark carried in his veins. The old fool Arryn had raised Stark as his foster son. Should the ties with the Reach and Dorne be confirmed…then the Starks would essentially have leverage with every great House in Westeros! And if the heir to Winterfell managed to sway this Volantis girl into his bed and marry her…they could have assistance from Volantis if they called for it! By the gods…they would be able to take the throne away from her! Away from who it truly belonged to! And, worst of all, no one seemed to be doing anything to stop them!
"Of course, I'm sure that his grace will be devastated."
Shaking her head, Cersei glared at the eunuch out of the corner of her eye. Setting aside her wine glass, Cersei did all she could to prevent her hand from shaking as the revelation as to how close those fucking wolves and their pet sorcerer were to stealing what was rightfully hers! "And why is that?"
Varys gave her that same condescending smirk that screamed that he knew something that she didn't. It was a look that made her want to take a knife to him every time she saw it. "Surely you know the mind of his grace better than any, my Queen. He had hopes of securing the eldest Stark girl for the Crown Prince. Fulfilling the betrothal that'd been long since denied to him and finally putting a Stark near to the Iron Throne after centuries of the Targaryens ignoring their own Pact that'd been made with the wolves."
This time Cersei nearly did scream. Five-and-ten years, and that cold dead wolf bitch was still ruining everything! If she could, she would've made even the mentioning of that bitch's name be punishable by death! And now her ghost was looking to steal her son! Her perfect lion! 'But it doesn't matter now,' Cersei tried to reason with herself. 'The Stark girl is now betrothed to the lame Willas Tyrell. About what the wolves deserve, to be saddled with a lamed husband. But Stark still has another daughter…I need to make sure that Robert doesn't get any ideas in his head about trying to give a second daughter the honor of being married to my son. Joffrey deserves only the best, not some heathenistic barbarian whore. Ideally, he would have Myrcella, just as Jaime and I have each other. But Robert won't stand for it, it would remind him too much of the Targaryens. But there is no other woman other than a pure lion that is good enough for my son.'
"Yes, a true shame." Cersei responded, keeping her voice as calm as possible. "Are there any other songs your little birds have sung as of late?"
"None of true note, your grace," Varys responded.
"Very well then," Cersei nodded. "Then sing your songs to the king and leave me."
Varys either didn't notice or care about her tone. And given what she knew of the man, it was more than likely the latter. "As you wish. I wish you a pleasant day, your grace," the eunuch said, folding his hands before his large stomach and giving her a bow before waddling off to do whatever it was he did.
The moment she was alone, Cersei turned on her heel and hurled her wine glass against the walls of the Red Keep. Seething in rage, she watched the glass shatter into uncountable pieces. 'Those fucking wolves! They're trying to take what is mine! Mine! The throne is mine! Not hers! Mine!' Breathing heavily, Cersei began pacing back and forth on the balcony, the going's on below her all but dismissed as she tried to figure out what to do about the fucking wolves from the North. Because something needed to be done. And soon. She would not allow that fucking frog-sucking-whore to be right! She would not be thrown down. Not now. Not ever!
Feeling the carriage beneath her rock violently, Daenerys Targaryen was abruptly pulled from the world of dreams as the back of her knocked against the hard wooden wood of the bench she'd been rested upon. Groggily rubbing at the back of her head while trying to banish the last of her sleep from her eyes, Dany slowly sat up and turned her head to gaze at her surroundings. Her brother was sitting not far from where she was, looking highly uncomfortable and affronted as he stared resolutely at the surroundings, and not at the contents of the trade wagon they'd managed to find that was willing to give them a ride for at time at least. 'Or more correctly, the trade wagon that I managed to convince to let us ride by offering him and his family a substantial amount of coin after my dear brother insulted the man when he told us the original price of a ride.'
"Finally awake, Dany," her brother stated flatly, not asked. Stated.
"Yes," Dany nodded, turning her head slightly to gaze out over the rolling flatlands of Essos as the wagon slowly made its way down the well-traveled road, each bump in the road causing her to jump slightly and putting one more ache in her back. 'Jon has made mention of a new type of…metal coil that the Sorcerer Nox created that is supposed to help reduce the rocking of a wagon as it travels down a road. A spring I think he called it. If it works as well as Jon says it does, I cannot wait for these marvelous coils to reach Essos and make riding in a wagon slightly more comfortable.'
"You've been sleeping far too often, Dany. It's not right for one of your station. And you best start changing your ways quickly before we arrive at our destination. Last thing we need is for your weakness to be so on display before those who are willing to help us reclaim what is rightfully mine."
Dany wanted to scoff at her brother. Just about everything he'd just said had been wrong. She hadn't been sleeping as of late, she'd been meditating and learning everything she could about her newfound power under Jon's tutelage. Ever since the first practical application of her powers when she managed to fend off several fully grown men many times her own size, she'd become almost obsessed with learning all she could from Jon. And as Jon had told her she would, she was truly starting to see a clear distinction between what he called the 'light' and 'dark' sides of the Force. And this distinction always occurred pending on her state of mind when she used her powers. When she was calm and without emotion when she used the Force, it almost felt as if she were drifting through a warm water stream with the sun on her face and nothing but the sounds of the wilds around her. It was peaceful, serene, beautiful. But when she used her powers while angry or fearful…she did not feel that. She felt…something strange. Her heart would race, excitement would course through her faster than a raging waterfall. And she felt the need to dominate. To control. But at the same time, she felt…cold. It was such an odd sensation, wielding each side of the Force. Each one was powerful in its own way, there was no question.
As for her brother's statement of her being weak, while she was perhaps not as strong physically as her brother or most others, she was not weak. Not anymore. Even though her brother did not know it, she had already saved the two of them from no less than two attacks by using her powers to either simply make their attackers leave, or she used her powers to make sure they couldn't do anything against the two of them. She hadn't killed anyone yet. At least she didn't think she had. She'd come close once or twice. But when the moment came to end her attacker's life she just… She couldn't do it. And it was in those moments, where she hesitated to take a life that she felt like she was still the weak little girl she was before she'd learned about her powers. She'd told Jon the same, and he'd given her some words of encouragement. He told her that it was not a weakness because she hesitated to take a life. He himself had taken several lives, and he told her that he never enjoyed it once. And he also reiterated that that was precisely why there was no Lord's Justices in the North. The decision to end a life should never be easy.
And the last part of her brother's statement that she found false was the fact that he truly believed that they would find aid and be able to retake the Seven Kingdoms with him as King when they arrived at wherever they were going, which he still refused to tell her. She'd learned that taking back the Seven Kingdoms for the Targaryens was but a dream. A sweet dream perhaps, but a dream nonetheless. The people did not bemoan the loss of the dragons as their monarchs. Lords and Ladies did not raise secret toasts to their health and wishes for their return. Her and her brother were little more than the lost scions of a House that had long lost the right to rule the Seven Kingdoms after all the harm they had caused. But there was no use in telling her brother this. He still held firm in his convictions that he would one day be seated upon the Iron Throne. A dream. Nothing more.
"Yes, brother," Dany nodded, slipping back into her 'weak' persona she put in front of all others besides Jon. Part of her felt guilty about hiding what she could do from her brother. But honestly, she didn't feel like he deserved to know what she could do. Not yet. "Perhaps brother, if you could tell me where we are heading, I can better prepare myself for what is to come?"
Viserys twisted his head around, no doubt making sure that the family they were traveling with were not paying attention to what they were saying. "I received word of a man willing to help us reclaim that which is rightfully ours. He's invited us to his manor to stay and plan our return, and he's even started making overtures to potential allies that will fight for what is mine."
Dany only just barely managed to resist the urge to roll her eyes at her brother's response. It was the same response he gave every time she'd asked them since they started out on this new path. "And what is his name, brother?"
Her brother refused to answer her again, something which before she would've just accepted. But now it did little more than annoy her at the fact that her brother was refusing to tell her what he knew. Taking a calming breath, Dany decided to try a trick Jon had just recently taught her. Picturing the Force like a bubble of soap, Dany enlarged the invisible bubble until she could tell that it covered both herself and her brother. If this worked like Jon explained, then her and her brother's voices would be basically inaudible to those outside the bubble. Somehow. With that in place, Dany then discreetly moved her right hand quickly through the air while focusing her powers on her brother, "Viserys. Who is offering to take us in and aid us in retaking our family's ancestral seat? And how did you come to know of him?"
She truly did not like using her powers on her brother like this. But she knew her brother well enough that if she wanted a true answer to her question, that this was the only way to receive it. As soon as the question left her lips and her power reached him, Viserys blinked as a dazed look entered his eyes. "His name is Illyrio Mopatis. A magister in Pentos. And he reached out to me with an offer, saying he would put us up at his manor in Pentos for as long as was needed for us to obtain the army I need to retake the Iron Throne from the Usurper."
"And what was his price?" Dany asked, putting just a touch more power into her voice. She wasn't a fool. Her and her brother had next to nothing to their name besides the name itself. There were only two things Viserys could offer anyone willing to help them. A position of high status in Westeros if he managed to succeed. Or his or her own hand in marriage.
"The position of Master of Coin under my rulership." Viserys answered blankly, making Dany breathe slightly easier as she knew that her brother hadn't sold her off. Yet. And if she had her way, Viserys would never sell her off to the one who could provide him with the largest army. But she knew that, despite her growing power, choosing her own fate was outside of her control. For now, at least.
