The White Wolf of Westeros

by DrakeCross

The Wild Hunt is defeated and Ciri steps beyond to face the source of the White Frost. However something goes wrong and Geralt risks himself as he follows her, ending up in the land of Westeros. Dealing with new intrigue and politics, he will have to decide who he can trust while trying to save his adopted daughter...along with the lives of both worlds!

26. S2-E2: The Calm Before War

Chapter Twenty-Five: The Calm Before War

Forward: Editing and proof-reading credit for Rainsfere.

…

Hadrian - Riverlands – Midnight

The young man groaned as he shifted on the bedroll he laid on, body aching still though no longer covered in damp clothing anymore, having been changed into some oversized commoner clothes. He'd quickly realize it was night as he'd gaze up at the starry sky between the gaps of the looming tree branches. Nearby, he'd hear the crackle of a burning campfire and the scrapping of metal on wood, making him glance off to the right.

He'd see the Northerner, Marcus, sitting back against the side of his wagon while he carved away at a piece of weirwood, the shape of the carving seeming to be a man. Resting besides Marcus was Garm, the big half-wolf gnawing on a bone. The Northerner glanced up from his work to look at Hadrian as he'd shift to sit up and stretch his sore body.

"Doing alright lad? When I tried to wake you up I feared you passed on." The man remarked with a chuckle.

"Ugh…guess I was that exhausted." Hadrian muttered as he'd look around the rest of the camp. He'd see his clothes hanged up on a simple rank to dry off by the campfire, which also had a split with a large skinned rabbit cooking on it. "Where are we exactly?"

"About halfway to Raventree Hall. We'll get there by mid-day tomorrow if the roads are clear and weather in our favor." He'd carve at the piece of wood a bit more. "You didn't tell me where you ran from earlier. Judging from where I found you, you must have come from the south."

Hadrian nodded. "My group was close to High Heart, a landmark that was at the center of all the disappearances within the area."

"High Heart huh? Nothing there but weirtree stumps and superstition."

"Yes…but maybe there is something unnatural lurking there…"

Marcus paused, his gaze drifting about the dark woods surrounding them. Even Garm seemed to pause in his gnawing, ears perked up as if hearing something. "I'll admit, something has been off since we picked you up."

"How so?"

"Been around these woods for years, know them quite well. Yet today everything feels…quiet. Listen."

Hadrian paused as he quickly noted that the normal sounds of the woods seemed silent. Raventree Hall was set in a lush valley, so he knew well the sounds of the nighttime wild life. Yet everything seemed muted, no animals making their cries or shifting about in the distance…just silence.

"It's odd."

"The forest is scared." Marcus muttered. "Only a few times this has happened in my experience. Means something big and dangerous is about."

"You seem to know a lot about survival and wildlife."

"Sort of expected if you plan to live in the North." Marcus chuckled. "Yet I guess you can say I've taken the time to master the skill. Had to support ma until her passing…hunting and guiding for supplies and coppers."

"No father?"

Marcus shook his head, a bitter look hinting his eyes. "Disappeared when I was only a few years young. Nothing more to say about him."

"Ah…I'm…sorry to bring it up."

"No worries lad. It's the past after all." Setting the carving down, Marcus moved to check on the cooking rabbit. He'd nod his head before carefully taking it off the split and onto a wooden plate set aside before he began to strip away the meat with another knife on hand.

"You mentioned last time you fought in the Rebellion."

"Aye. Ma had passed by then and when the call of war came…well I was just a one year away from becoming eighteen. Like many young men I was eager for the glory of battle and was quick to obey the call to war."

"What Lord did you serve?"

There be a small pause as Marcus finished carving up the meat, then splitting it up for both him and the boy. "House Bolton." He simply answered back after handing the plate over.

Hadrian recognized the name, mainly because of the House's long and dark history. "I heard of them. Said to be as old as the Starks and had challenged them a few times historically." He'd eat a few pieces of the meat, which while plain tasting was at least filling. "So…is it true they do the whole…umm…flaying thing?"

Marcus didn't answer as he'd move back to his spot, handing a few pieces of meat to Garm who quickly gobbled it up. "Maybe…" He muttered with a shrug, avoiding a straight answer. "Didn't join the fight for them, I did it for the North."

"So, what did you do exactly?"

"Scouting and the like. Didn't get into any major battles until the Trident."

"Father mentioned that battle a few times. He joined the Tullys when they sided with King Robert."

"I remember that battle well. Seemed like something out of an epic, the two armies across all that river and marshland. King Robert's commanding voice could he heard across the whole field. Never fought harder in my whole damn life…" He'd chuckle a bit, a faint smile on his face. "Yet so many died among all those rivers. Bet if you went up their you'd find a corpse still stuck in the riverbed or aged weapons lost in the brush."

"It was that fierce of a battle?"

Marcus nodded. "I lost count of how much dead there were. Rivers were red with all the blood that for sure." The man grimly muttered. "Don't know how many I personally killed…dozen to my crossbow…dozen others to my axe?" He'd shrug. "Bah…sorry lad, getting caught up in old thoughts."

"Its fine. I've always wanted to know more about such a battle from someone not a noble born."

Marcus had a hint of respect show at the boy's remark. "People always focus on the battle between the King and Rhaegar, never the harshness the soldiers faced." He'd eat a bit more of his plate of meat before sighing. "Just how all wars go. The Lords and rulers get all the fame, while the footmen become nothing more but a number in some Maester's tome."

Hadrian was silent on that matter, understanding that sad reality. How many families on both sides had lost fathers and sons, all because of the Mad King's cruel nature? It was a bit sickening to think about it.

"So, what did you do after the war though?"

"Eh? Not so fast lad! Not telling you my whole life story just yet, not until you share a bit about you own."

"Me?" Hadrian brushed his hair a bit, seeming shy on the matter. "Well…I'm a bastard of Tytos Blackwood and my mother Keira Parsin who was a maid at Raventree Hall. Was born three years after the Rebellion. Father…wanted to marry her but couldn't because of the backlash he'd receive since the other lordships desired alliances through marriage. At the least he let her stay at the Hall and let her side of the family move into one of the nearby towns."

"A fair outcome than most common born families." Marcus commented.

Hadrian nodded. "Mother died though when I was six. Scarlet fever, a serious case. Father had his Maester do everything he could but…"

"No need to continue on that lad. Lost my ma to sickness too, so I understand."

"After that, I had started studying up medicine and first aid. Father didn't mind and always had the Maester tutor me, though he sent me to my aunt and uncle in the nearby town. Yet…there was a grayscale outbreak. Biggest one that the region had seen in decades."

"Grayscale? Quite the rare sickness…horrible one at that."

The boy nodded. "I was lucky to have avoided it. Was put under quarantine when father was forced to close the village off. My aunt and uncle got it…knew what it'd do to them…begged me to give them a quick death instead of letting them be carted off to be Stone Men."

"Mercy killing…I'd ask the same."

"Was just thirteen when that happened. In the end the village was purged, either killed off or sent for Essos to fully turn. Again…I was lucky."

"Unfair to lose family like that."

"Father tried to care for me yet…I avoided it. I felt guilty that I survived…and just ran off one night because of it."

"What did you do?"

"I just packed my bags and rode off. Was young after all, confused and emotional…well…maybe still emotional." He'd jest about himself. "Rode all the way to the Ruby Fork, was conflicted on what to do before finding someone down in the muck. An old man in some red robes."

"Red robes?"

"Claimed he was an alchemist from the Guild in King's Landing. Sort of left to do his own research around Westeros yet had a run in with criminals which he just escaped yet was injured."

"What exactly happened?"

"Just…helped him up and got back to his camp close by. Spent all night just treating his injuries, though he guided me most of the way." There was an odd look in Marcus's eyes as the boy talked about the man, making the Hadrian pause for a moment. "Umm…something wrong?"

"Oh? Ummm nothing. Just…what was the man's name."

"Uh, he never told me really." The boy chuckled. "He was secretive about it so just had me call him Red Cap…you know because he wore one. Anyway, I stayed with him for a while to help him recover, was taught to cook up strange potions that healed him so quickly. Half a week later and he was fit once more."

"Must have been grateful."

"Heh, he was quite grouchy at times. He'd never out right praise me, always pointing out at how I could have done better on one step or another. Still, he claimed I had quite the talent for someone so young and offered to further my knowledge, even teach me alchemy."

"Quite the unique offer considering. What about your father, surely he was looking for you."

"He was…but I did send a message, told him I was safe and what I was doing. Kept writing over the course of a year as I studied at one of the alchemist's labs hidden away in the Tumblestone mountains." He'd give a small smile, seeming to have fond memories. "He was a tough teacher, but I knew he cared about me mastering what I learned and ensuring I did things right."

"How long you stay?"

"About a year. I…left for personal reasons…disagreements on my mentor's ideals."

"What kind of ideals?' Hadrian was silent, glancing up to look at Marcus with a quite serious look. The man knew it was a touchy matter, so he'd give a sigh and nod. "Guess it's my turn to apologize for prodding too much.

Hadrian's expression softened at the kind words. "Its fine. Seems we both have things about our past that are too important to share."

"Heh, true enough."

Hadrian glanced at the figurine that Marcus was still holding. "So, who is that for?"

The man glanced at the wood carving, having nearly forgotten about it. "Ah, my daughter. She just turned six today, so it's one of many presents I have for her and my wife. The two manage the inn whenever I'm off resupplying."

"Sounds like you've settled down well after all your hardship."

A small yet warm smile crossed Marcus's face. "Aye…wouldn't trade it for all the gold in the world."

Suddenly, Garm tensed up beside Marcus before a freakish snarling sound echoed out through the woods. The half-wolf barked and snarled back, yet Hadrian could tell the beast was on edge. "What in the Seven was that!?"

"Trouble." Marcus muttered as he'd reach back to take out a crossbow he had hidden behind him. Hadrian had seen crossbows before, though the innkeeper's weapon was unlike any he had seen. For one it was quite larger in size with the metal and wooden arms being of a recurved design. There was a pull latch at the very end, an odd design that the boy remembered seeing in a few Maester drawings in one book. "I was right. Something been following us."

"Following us?" Again, there was snarling which seemingly a mix of human and beast from what the boy could tell.

"Be calm boy." Marcus warned as he'd slowly stand up, keeping his back against his wagon to protect his flank. "When you see anything move…you rush for the wagon and get under it. Understood."

The man's calm orders made Hadrian nod, trusting the experienced hunter. Right now, the boy was tense, eyes rapidly glancing about the dark woods as the terrifying noises got closer. His heart was racing as he was ready to spring forward. Suddenly the primal sounds stopped, leaving the forest silent except for the boy's nervous breathing.

Then there was a roar as a large humanoid figure leaped out from the darkness, going right for Hadrian. The boy had only a split second to see the creature, a fleshy thing that seemed patched together with different body parts. It had a human like face with sharp crooked teeth baring out and rough clawed hands fit for tearing flesh.

The monster howled out as Marcus fired his crossbow, the powerful bolt slamming right into its chest to interrupt it's leaping attack. "GET IT GARM! HADRIAN MOVE!" The half-wolf growled out as it rushed at the stunned creature which shifted onto all fours, seemingly shrugging off the crossbow bolt deep in its chest. Garm bit down on one of the creature's arms as it swung out at the half-wolf, drawing a pained growl from the monster as it's limb was yanked about forcefully.

Hadrian snapped out of his fearful state as he'd rush for the wagon, moving into a slide to get under it. He'd watch as Marcus tugged at the latch to draw the crossbow string back and click it into place before loading a new bolt. Garm tugged the flailing creature about, using his size and hold on it's arm to keep it unbalanced along with having its side exposed for Marcus's next shot. Again, the monster roared as another bolt slammed deeply into it's fleshy, only to fight back more fiercely. There be a sickening snap of bone and rip of flesh in Garm's jaws, the canine tearing the forearm off.

"Look out!" The warning was timely for the half-wolf which tumbled aside as the creature swiped with it's working arm, fighting still even as it's started to bleed from its severed limb. Marcus cursed out as the creature set its angry gaze onto him while he hurried to load the next bolt. The monster despite the pain it felt rushed at him fast, forcing Marcus duck and sidestep at that clawing attack. Dropping his crossbow, Marcus drew out a hand axe and hunting knife, lunging in to strike fierce blows across the monster's neck and shoulder.

"Bloody freak!" He growled as the monster shrugged the strikes before giving a backhand blow to knock Marcus off his feet and onto his back. The monster pounced at him, jaws going for his throat, yet he was faster as he shoved the shaft of his axe to keep that toothy maw at bay. With his knife, he'd stab at the neck and skull even, tough bone stopped the knife from piercing into the brain. Just as the creature seemed ready to bite down at the man's throat, it was yanked back as Garm came to his master's aid, having grabbed at one of the monster's legs to pull it off Marcus.

With the creature distracted, Marcus took the chance to scramble up before noticing Hadrian was standing up, the crossbow in hand. Tossing it over to the man, he fluidly aimed at the creature's head as it snarled at him in defiance before the bolt pierced into its right eye and deep into the skull. The bolt tip even pierced the very back, showing just how lethal the weapon was. The monster at last was still, Garm letting go of the leg though he paced around the creature, growling and sniffing at it.

"By all the gods…" Marcus muttered, panting deeply as he'd reload his crossbow again, wanting it ready for any more lurking dangers or if the monster was seemingly playing dead. Moving closer, he'd kick the thing onto it's back, the fleshy creature remaining still. "What the hells is this? Looks like man and beast…"

Hadrian moved closer as the older man to get a closer look of the monster. Indeed, it looked like a man, expect the limbs were warped to take on a more animal like poise with bone and muscle bulging in painful ways. Already the thing reminded him of the hags that had attacked his group, making him shiver from the horrible memory. But when he'd look at it's face, his eyes widened, and he'd feel bile coming up his throat. Staggering away, he had one hand cover his mouth to keep himself from throwing up.

"Hadrian! What's wrong?!" Marcus had a firm hand on the boy's shoulder, who was gasping and sobbing out. "It's gruesome I know. Never seen anything like this in all my life-"

"It's face…" Hadrian muttered between breaths, gaze drifting back to the dead monster. "It has Ser Cordin's face…" He'd clench one hand tightly, teeth clenched as anger now burned inside of him. "Not only did they kill him they…use his body to make this…thing!"

Marcus was baffled at the boy's reaction before staring back at the monster he could see that the face did have a warped yet human look to it. "Never been one to believe myths or magic…but no denying there is something foul going on." Picking up his knife again, he'd kneel beside the corpse. "Either way, your father will need to see this."

"Wait you plan to…" Hadrian paused as Marcus glanced back with a somber look.

"The head will do. I…I understand if you want to look away."

The boy paused before shaking his head. "No…do it."

The man hesitated yet nodded as he'd drive his knife into the dead monster's neck, beginning to carve through flesh and bone to begin severing the head.

…

Ciri - Somewhere in the Red Wastes – Dawn

Ciri stared out to the east as the low light of the sun began to rise over the distant mountains, casting a low orange light across the red sands of the wasteland. While this place was barren, the natural beauty of the landscape was unlike anything she had seen even throughout her travels between worlds. Her gaze shifted to the rest of the Dothraki camp, which was silent as the tired nomads were still asleep. Ciri's simple tent was set farther away from the rest if the Dothraki, though remained close to Dany's and Jorah's.

After dealing with the last member of the raiding party, she had returned to Daenerys' group who were obviously quite shocked over what happened. Not only had she defeated a Bloodrider in a duel but had seemingly teleported in flashes of light. The Dothraki were on edge after what they had seen, being between a mix amazement and nervous fear. Despite this, Daenerys and Jorah had remained quite calm after what they had witnessed, with the Khaleesi inviting her to stay with her group still.

During the long ride, she had taken the time to question both Jorah and Daenerys about the world she was in. Jorah, while a simple man, knew much about both his home country of Westeros and the exotic lands of Essos. Her interest was mainly with Westeros, mainly Jorah's tales of the North and the harsh icy wasteland that lied beyond The Wall. With a bit of questioning he shared a bit about the myths of the land, mainly that of the Long Night and the mysterious White Walkers. While it was just guess, she had a feeling the creature she fought was one of them, maybe even their leader considering it's 'royal' appearance. Beyond that, she wasn't certain if the horned Walker was the source of the Frost or just an unknown aspect. Whatever the case, she had underestimated it and now had lost the element of surprise. She doubted she'd face the creature with its guard down, though she was unsure if killing it would even solve anything.

"More questions than answers." She'd muttered to herself before shifting to stand up, the sun now peeking up from behind the mountains. "Wish I had someone from home to help…figure out some meaning to all of this." However, she'd stop speaking to herself when she heard footsteps nearing her, making her glance back to see it was one of Dany's Bloodriders, Rakharo who had kept a close watch on her.

"Lady of Ash…Ciri..." He muttered, tone firm yet respectful manner. "The Khaleesi wishes for your company to discuss the next course of action."

"An odd title to give me. Is that what the rest of the Dothraki are calling me?" She asked curiously as she'd follow the tribal warrior towards Daenerys tent.

Rakharo nodded. "Its because of your hair and the way you…disappear. Like a cloud of ash flowing around you."

She had to admit that was a fitting description of how her teleporting powers appeared to other. It wasn't like other magic like the short distance teleporting or portals other magic users cast back home, so it made sense for her own abilities to look unique. She just hoped the use of her powers didn't scare the Dothraki too much, since she'd rather not turn their superstition into outright fear.

"Are your people that nervous about me?" She calmly asked, her gaze looking into the young warrior's eyes, wanting a truthful response.

The Bloodrider was silent for a long moment, yet he'd nod. "Your abilities are…strange yet powerful."

"But do you trust me despite them?"

"For now, yes. If the Khaleesi trusts you then I will as well." However, his gaze became stern before he continued to speak. "However if you betray or try to harm her, I swear by the Great Stallion we'll hunt you to the ends of the earth."

It was a blunt warning, one that Ciri deeply understood. She had met loyal individuals in the past, the Dothraki's look of conviction showing how deeply he supported Daenerys. The Dothraki no doubt knew the chances of beating her were nearly impossible, but that sense of duty and fearlessness earned her a new sense of respect towards him.

"Then I'm glad the Khaleesi has someone like you guarding her if he is willing to go that far."

The compliment seemed to catch the Dothraki by surprise which quickly to hide away. His stern gaze did relax though as Ciri's simple response meant a lot to him. The two soon reached Daenerys' tent, finding her and Jorah sitting down with a square piece of wood laid down between them to be a 'table' for some food and a medium sized map that detailed the Essos continent. Jorah has shown her the map before during the ride, giving her the basic run down on their current position in the Red Wastes. Standing close by were the other two Bloodriders who were standing guard by their Khaleesi while Rakharo remained by the tent flap leading out.

"Ciri, I take your rested well?" Daenerys greeted, giving a soft smile as the ashen haired woman moved to sit across from her.

"I'm used to camping and while the warm climate is different, it's more welcoming then the colder conditions I've endured recently." Her gaze drifted over the map, seeing a red stone which guessed was their current position. "So, I take your debating on our next course of action?"

"Indeed. After yesterday's encounter with the raiders, we know that heading northward is too risky since the Khals are actively looking for us. That leaves us only the south for us to travel…which leaves us few choices." He'd glance over the map, one finger pointing to a city marked to the southwest corner of the map, set on a peninsula that made up a strait to the uncharted Jade Sea. "The closest known city is Qarth, one of the wealthiest trade cities in the known world and self-proclaimed birthplace of all western civilization."

"'The greatest city that ever was or will be', I remember how Drogo talked about it with his fellow Khals. Many desired to raid it, though he knew better considering the city's history of repelling attacks." Daenerys commented. "The main problem is getting there. We have hundreds of miles of wasteland and plains to cross, which even with our extra supplies will be difficult."

Jorah had a grim look hint his face as he nodded. "Even with the extra water, we are still short on food. Our Bloodriders and gatherers can ease that, but it will slow us down." Pausing, he'd glance a bit away from the map. "We'll most likely take some losses if we press on southward."

"How many?" Dany asked calmly.

"A third of our numbers…mainly the children, elderly and weak." Jorah answered after a tense pause.

Ciri felt a sinking feeling over this fact and she had to agree. While the Dothraki were better suited for traveling in harsh conditions, she knew the simpler members had their limits. Looking at Daenerys, she could see a hard look in the young woman's eyes.

"So, what are you suggesting?"

Jorah didn't answer at first yet looking to the Bloodriders, it hinted that he had privately discussed the topic with them. Ciri knew the three warriors better understood traveling and surviving in this harsh region. "We may have to abandon some people such as the elderly, badly injured and sick, a fourth of our group."

Ciri could see how Daenerys gripped the worn skirt of her tribal garb, a hint of her frustration after hearing such advice from Jorah. "That is not a choice I am willing to make." She answered back in a tense if calm manner.

"Then more will die in the end Khaleesi. I don't like this plan any more then you do, but our focus is your survival and the majority of the Khalasar. Unless you have another way to ensure their protection, then these are our choices."

At that point Ciri spoke up. "Perhaps there is a way." Her remark drew curious looks from both Daenerys and Jorah. "The Thirteen of Qarth could get the supplies and mounts needed to get your people across the Red Wastes. All we'd need is a messenger to reach the city and plead for aid. If the Targaryen name has any power to it, they will surely understand the value of helping you." She'd pause, before looking right at Daenerys. "Surely, they won't decline with you baring three dragons, the first in centuries."

The doubtful look on Jorah's face faded slightly seeming to find the logic behind Ciri's words. He didn't speak up though as he'd glance to Daenerys, since he knew she had the final say in this matter.

"I agree. From what I know of these Thirteen, they will not be able to resist the curiosity of seeing my 'children'." However, Dany looked to the map once more. "But to send a messenger so far would have risks along with plenty of uncertainties. If anything went wrong, all my people could die."

"You forget who you are talking to." Ciri said with a small grin.

"That is kind of you to offer Ciri, though I feel you shouldn't be to hasty." Jorah quickly remarked. "No one here can doubt your abilities are impressive, however we don't fully understand them. Perhaps now would be an appropriate time to explain them and what your limitations are."

Ciri could understand Jorah's reasoning, though even she was unsure of what her powers were capable. It had taken years just to fully control her teleporting and phasing technique, a simple use of her untapped power. She remembered the moment Vesemir had been killed before her eyes and how she had just…snapped. The memory had become clearer over time, how she gave an ethereal scream that had nearly wiped out the whole Wild Hunt, nearly destroyed Kaer Morhen even.

"Its complicated. The issue is I don't know the limits of what I am capable of." Ciri admitted. "What I did yesterday was the simplest show of my abilities, little more then reflex that took years to master. Things like the attack I unleashed on the three riders and the chasing the last raider requires more focus which has become easy enough for me to use."

"So, what about…that portal that you came out of?" Jorah questioned.

"That was more of an instinctive move, a flight or fight reaction. It's happened in the past and I often have little control over it. At times it has even put me in dire situations, almost like what would've happened if you hadn't found me."

"Sounds like a curse considering." Dany muttered.

"It's controllable…well…in theory from what I've been told. I can travel hundreds if not thousands of miles so long as I know the destination I'm going for or have detailed coordinates." She excluded how arcane aid such as scrying or Avallac'h helping to direct her power. It was hard to enough to simplify how her Elder Blood worked, which she in turn barely understood.

"So, while sending you to Qarth would be a quick approach, there are possible risks." Jorah paused in though, brushing one hand over his scruffy chin. "For one, you could easily get lost if your…well…teleporting can be inaccurate, even more since you are still recovering. Also, there is the fact that you don't fully understand the customs and history of Essos as well. If you went representing the Khaleesi and a mishap happened, it could easily cause trouble for us. Even one of the Bloodriders are more versed in dealing with the Free Cities then you are currently."

Ciri felt a bit annoyed, though Jorah did have a point. While she wanted nothing more then to get Dany and her people to Qarth, rushing could easily cause more trouble for everyone. She'd think for a long moment, staring at the map closely. "Surely there must be someplace we can have the group encamp down. From what I understand, the Red Wastes have more of a grassland in the southern half. There must be someplace safe and fertile enough for the Khalasar to settle for a time before we send a messenger to Qarth."

Jorah was silent, seeming to have no answers, while Daenerys had her gaze locked with the map while her hands gripped tightly together in frustration. However, someone did spoke up though it was from the Bloodriders, the individual being Rakharo.

"Khaleesi. There may be one place we can seek refuge farther south." The Bloodrider calmly stated, drawing everyone's attention to him. "The veteran riders spoke of a ruined city in the southern plains, a place they visited whenever they scouted the farmlands of Qarth before they strengthened their watch."

"Any known history about these ruins?" Dany questioned.

"Could have been a possible city-state Qarth tried to establish to gain an inland trade route. It no doubt was abandoned because of lacking resources and the Dothraki threatening to raid it." Jorah commented. "It is no doubt centuries old and reclaimed by nature."

"Ruin or not, this could be the answer to our problems." Ciri quickly added. "Even if the city has fallen into ruin there will be no doubt strong foundations remaining for shelter, sources of water and natural food. Maybe we'll even have a bit of a road leading the rest of the way to Qarth."

"That is all possible. We shouldn't be so quick for such a hopeful outcome." Jorah looked to Daenerys, the young woman having a pondering look.

"Are you certain you know where this ruined city is?" She questioned her loyal Bloodrider.

Rakharo's gaze was unfaltering as he'd nodded. "On my honor and life Khaleesi. I will not lie though that it will be a hard trek for the others and our supplies will be put to the limit. We will endure for sure."

Daenerys stared at him for a long moment, a soft thankful smile crossing her lips. "Then I put my faith in you…in all of you." Her gaze looked about the tent, genuine respect to close advisors and protectors showing in her eyes. "I wish everyone except Ciri to have the Khalasar prepare to leave. It is best we leave early in the day while the sun is low."

"As you wish Khaleesi." Jorah bowed his head before standing up to leave, while the three Bloodriders followed, though seeming hesitant leaving their queen alone. Still, they obeyed her order as they too left the tent.

Now alone, Daenerys gave a tired sigh before standing up, moving to the back of the tent where three large wicker cages were set. When she neared them Ciri could hear the familiar murmuring and soft shriek sounds of the dragons, no doubt being woken up by their 'mother'. "Only a few days old and they can already move about so quickly." She chuckled as he let the three dragons crawl up onto her shoulders or be carried in her arms before she returned to where Ciri sat. "Mother of Dragons. A fitting title my people have already begun to call me."

"Indeed. It is a miracle really." Ciri commented as she'd shift closer, still amazed and curious of the small draconids.

She had studied much about dragons and sub-species that were related to them while training at Kaer Morhen, though they were obviously different from the ones from her own world. The biggest difference was that these dragons were only four limbed with their wings on the forearms, unlike her world's dragons which had their wings at their backs or shoulders.

"You're allowed to touch them. Just be careful of Drogon, he can be snappy towards others." Dany warned, glancing at the larger black scaled dragon that was on her shoulder."

Ciri moved one hand out, Drogon sniffing it curiously as he gave a murmuring growl. Soon though her fingers brushed along his smooth scales and the sharper spines that lined along his back. She could feel an odd tingling in her nerves the longer she touched the dragon, who seemed to nuzzle against her very fondly. Dragons were magically innate creatures, being powerful Sources as well, making it logical for the growing energy she felt flowing though. Perhaps in turn her Elder Power shared the same sensation to Drogon which would explain his positive reaction.

"Heh, either he's in a good mood or you have quite the natural affinity." Daenerys giggled as Drogon suddenly shifted to crawl onto ciri's shoulder, leaning in to give what was best described as an affectionate hiss. "I'll admit, I know little about dragons besides the tales others have told me. Some I'm unsure what is fact or myth."

Judging by the look the young Targaryen was giving, Ciri had an idea of what she was hinting at. "And you think I'd be best to educate you? I would be happy to share what I know but…you know they aren't the same."

"I know, but even some knowledge even from a differing world may decide if my children will survive or not." Gently he stroked the other two dragons, the creatures resting peacefully against her. "They haven't eaten much. They ate raw meat for a while, only now they nibble what is offered. At this rate they may even starve…"

Ciri now understood why Dany was seeking her aid on this matter. Already she'd think back over her studies about dragon growth cycles and habits. "Have you tried cooked meat?"

"Cooked?"

"Dragons, even young ones don't digest meat like other predators. Their bodies can properly break down cooked meat much like us, gaining more nutrition and thus grow more quickly."

The detailed explanation had Daenerys blink in surprise before chuckling, shaking her head. "Heh…how could I be so foolish. It makes perfect sense for creatures of fire to do so." Glancing about, she'd gesture to one of the packs before holding her arms out to Drogom who returned to her.

Ciri got up to hurry to the pack, shifting through to find dried meat wrapped up among other rations. Returning to Dany, she'd hold out the pieces which drew the three young dragons attention before all of them struggled to reach their necks out to get the first pieces. Drogon was the fastest and strongest as he'd give a warning snap to his brothers before gobbling up the biggest piece. Daenerys took a few more offered pieces to make sure all three were well fed.

"Seems they like the dried meat for now, though they'll no doubt crave fresher meals as they grow." Ciri remarked. "Beyond that, they need plenty of space and exercise, so try not to keep them too cooped up in those cages."

"Of course." For a moment Daenerys was silent as she'd set fed the last pieces of meat to her dragons before letting them crawl about around her, exploring the tent. "I know this is a bit early to discuss, but we do have prepare for your…well…cover story. I assume you don't plan to reveal your powers or share the truth about yourself to everyone of importance."

"Wouldn't be the first time I've had to deceive. Despite my honesty with your group, I can be quite the proficient actress if needed." The ashen haired woman's tone having a mischievous side to it. "When you found me, everyone mistook me for a Valyrian. Perhaps we can use that to our advantage when we arrive at Qarth."

"I think I already have an idea of what you have in mind." Dany stood up and would round up her dragons, the creatures following or letting the young woman pick them up to be put back inside the wicker cages. "Who is to say that my father had a secret daughter with noblewoman or servant, someone who was secreted away suddenly. Considering the many rumors, such a tale would seem tame."

"So…I play the part of a bastard daughter of your late father, Aerys Targaryen. Raised in the erotic and harsh lands of Essos, a skilled sellsword who has revealed herself in her younger sister's time of need." Her words having a dramatic flare to it. "I'm sure I'll create a deeper history to my 'story' as I learn more about Essos and your family history."

"I'll do my best to teach you as much about my family's history, while Jorah does his part in sharing more about Essos. By the time we reach Qarth you'll be quite convincing to the Thirteen."

Nodding, Ciri shifted for the flap out of the tent, feeling there was nothing else left to discuss and that she too should prepare to leave. "Hopefully. Let's focus on getting to this ruined city first before thinking that far ahead."

"Right…" Dany seemed slightly concerned being reminded that the journey ahead was going to be quite difficult. Despite Ciri being supportive on protecting the Dothraki, even she knew there was going to be loss and hardship ahead.

Leaving the tent, Ciri made her way back to her campsite though noticed a group of Dothraki men and women heading for Dany's tent. She guessed Jorah had sent them to help pack the Khaleesi's shelter and her few belongings. As they passed by, they gave short nods or bows to her, muttering with their native tongue a respectful greeting, at least from what she guessed by their calm tones. Reaching her camp, she'd work on packing away her bedroll and other supplies, though paused when she felt a strange chill go through her.

For most of her life she had been on the run. From her own father's agents, Vilgefortz cruel minions and then the Wild Hunt. Over that time, she had gotten a natural reaction of being spied on, even by magical means. Still, she glanced about on a reflex to see no one spying her, considering the barren surroundings lacked any suitable places to for someone to hide from her. Right now, she wished she had Vizimir's medallion to help sense for magical use, so for now she had only her gut instinct. After the conflict with the Wild Hunt, she planned to never run or hide from any threat again…not with the great power she wielded.

She sensed us.

Does it matter?

No. She is new to this world. Blind to its truths. She knows nothing of us

She is powerful. Raw energy. Greater than anything we have ever seen.

Her and the dragons. It is not a coincidence. They are connected.

Yes. The Red Comet. It has awakened the world at long last.

The Mother of Dragons and the Daughter of Fate

They bring the new age forward. They will be key to our rise.

We must prepare…

…

Geralt – Dragonstone – Late Morning

The Witcher's eyes snapped open as he heard echoing footsteps from the open hallway that lead into the map room. He'd realize that it was late into the morning, seeing the sun high over the sea from the stone balcony he kneeled on. Shifting up to stand, he'd stretch about as he walked back into the map room and towards the entranceway, curious to see who was coming to see him. As the footsteps neared, he'd soon see that it was Davos who was carrying a sizable tray with food on it.

"Ah you're up already." He remarked, hurrying to the stone map to set the food down. "Hope you rested well. Can't say I know anyone who'd sleep the whole night up here when it gets so chilly."

"I've meditated or slept in harsher places in the past. Besides, needed a bit of peace and quiet after the last few days." Moving over to the laid-out food, he'd quickly pick up a fresh roll bread to take a bite before taking a gulp from the mug of milk. "How are Sansa and Arya doing right now?"

"Just saw them in the dining hall. Only spoke to them for a short while, but they seemed to have rested well enough. Lady Sansa seemed anxious to begin the negotiations, though I told her such a meeting would take some to organize. Beyond that, she's taken to the library for the moment." Davos paused as he'd pick out a bit of food for himself. "As for Arya, she is already off exploring Dragonstone. Told her not to go to the cliffs or rocky shores unless she has a someone watching her. She's an agile one, but even she can make mistakes."

"Hopefully she'll listen to those warnings. Still I'll try to find her later today to make sure she's alright." Pausing in thought, Geralt continued to speak. "Realized there was one subject we didn't discuss with Stannis last night, the matter on Gendry."

"Ah…right…the blacksmith lad…" Davos tone seemed hesitant, a hint of trouble ahead. "Well we did have more serious issues to deal with last night, having Lord Stannis agree to making an alliance with the North. It easily slipped our minds."

"I have a feeling that his reactions from earlier has you worried for Gendry's safety, considering the lengths he is willing to go to take the Iron Throne."

Davos sighed and nodded. "I respect and owe Stannis much, but lately he has become more aggressive. Gendry may be a bastard; however he could be a complication to the succession to the Iron Throne or even contest it under the right circumstances. Course the boy has no desire for rulership, though after last night…I fear Stannis may take to harm to the boy."

"So, he doesn't know for now."

"Aye. He no doubt thinks Gendry is just a recruit on my ship. For now, I've gotten the boy sent to the workshop and forge, let him do his craft and blend in with the other workers. He's a quiet but seems to enjoy having some work to distract himself."

"I'll have to talk to him soon then, get an idea of how he's feeling. Though, perhaps it would be best if we take him to the North and put him under Robb's protection. I'm sure he would do so for Robert's son, bastard or not."

"Perhaps…just wish the lad didn't have to go through all of this to begin with."

"I agree, so for now we'll do our best to protect him." Giving a small sigh, Geralt finished up the last of his breakfast before speaking again. "So, about Melisandre, I think there is something more about her then simple faith and trickery."

"What do you mean exactly?"

"As in her visions may very well be real." He'd pause as he'd see the doubtful look on the old sailor's face. "I know you dislike her, but she told me things only I know…things I haven't shared to anyone."

"Like what?"

"About my daughter Ciri and the threat she is facing against. She claims to be against this looming danger except she seems to expect me ask her first for straight answer."

"Sounds more like she wants something from you."

Geralt only nodded in response to that matter. The way the Red Priestess spoke had been suggestive, so much like his many past encounters with seductive sorceresses and erotic women. There was an allure and real magic about her which he couldn't underestimate.

"Everyone is after something, though it seems to mainly be one ugly and very uncomfortable chair." His dry but sarcastic tone had Davos chuckle, lightening up the mood slightly. "Trust me, I can deal with Melisandre. I've dealt with plenty of women like her, so she won't be able to sway me like the others."

"Then I'll put my faith in your confidence then." Davos put the empty cups and plates back on the tray before he continued to speak. "Enough politics though. Dragonstone may not be a cheery place, but there is much to do see around the island."

The two left the map room to begin the long walk down through Dragonstone, giving him a clear view over the surrounding island and sea now that it was day time. He could fully understand why no one had been able to successfully siege this island, considering the natural barrier the ocean and cliffs provided along with the fortress's resilient design. Though there was the issue of supplies, since the barren island lacked food resources to endure for an extended time. That weakness had nearly killed Stannis and all his men on Storm's End, which was even more rocky then even this lone isle. Funny how it took someone like Davos to save them because of his illegal profession.

"So, I'm curious, how did you smuggle yourself and all that food onto Storm's End. Must have been a tricky getting so much moved without being noticed."

"Bit by bit really." Davos chuckled. "Used the cover of night with a few row boats with black tarps going to a hidden cove that only a few know about. Took a long time to get everything they needed, enough to hold everyone out through that siege."

The two had soon reached the main courtyard area to see Stannis men busy doing training drills, maintaining their gear or doing chores. Everyone seemed focused on their differing duties, only those who they passed by taking the time to give a short greeting to them. Geralt soon noticed Beric with his remaining men, who had their own side of the yard to themselves. The small group seemed more at ease after a peaceful night of sleep and good few meals. Beric quickly noticed the two approaching them, giving a welcoming grin as he'd walk over to greet them.

"Rested well I take Geralt?"

"Well enough. Still have a lot of work ahead of me."

"We all do. This coming war isn't going to be a quick one that's for sure." Beric muttered, a grim look in his eyes. "Just glad we have someone like you on our side. Can't imagine how events would have played out at the capital."

"No need to keep reminding me. Right now, I'd like to put that into the past and focus on what we do from here on." Geralt paused for a moment as Beric nodded in agreement. "Right now, we're guests under Lord Stannis, which can change if Robb doesn't make the right choices."

Beric nodded in agreement. "I've noticed our host's men is keeping a close eye on us. Its almost as if they think we're going to do something reckless." Though the mention did have Beric chuckle, since they had escaped from the most well-guarded city on the continent. That accomplishment alone would have even the most harden soldiers on edge around them.

"For now, just have your men well rested. It best we're prepare for any surprises be it from Stannis or anyone else."

"I'll be sure to do that along with informing you of anything odd among the other soldiers." Giving a short parting nod, Beric returned to his group to privately rely their new orders.

Geralt glanced back to Davos as the two walked away from Beric's group, moving more towards the center of the yard. "Feels wrong to me that there can be a conflict between the Starks and Stannis. The Lannisters are the real threat right now."

"I agree; however he has a stricter way of thinking compared to us. It won't be easy to find compromise with him, so we'll have to be just as direct and unyielding as him."

"Then yesterday was a good start. I just hope that approach will work." Before Davos could say anything more, the two noticed someone Barristand and Sansa approaching them from the keep.

"Ser Davos…Geralt. Having a good morning I take?" The old knight formally greeted to them both, Sansa remaining silent but giving a respectful nod towards Davos.

"Normal overall." Geralt simply answered back before looking to Sansa. "How has your stay been so far Sansa? Everything comfortable for you?"

The young woman nodded. "Dragonstone may be a gloomy place, yet the quarters in the Keep are quite pleasant along with the servants and guards being courteous to me." She'd pause though, a more concerned look in her eyes as she shifted closer to speak in a more hushed voice. "Is it true Lord Stannis threatened to war with Robb if he didn't swear to loyalty to him?"

Geralt knew that Barristan was the one who told her this news, though that was expected. Sansa needed to be more aware of the intrigue and politics around her, unlike the situation back in King's Landing where she was shut out by everyone. "To be blunt…yes. It will all come down to your brother's choice. We both know though he'll make the right one."

Sansa showed that familiar look of worry in her eyes, quickly hiding away that emotion to avoid looking weak before everyone. "He will. I'm sure of it."

"Then let's focus on what we can do here Lady Sansa." Barristan added. "Besides protecting her, I have offered my council to her to prepare her to speak with Lord Stannis and his advisors. Considering how many matters you have to attend to, tutoring her in politics can be one task left to me."

"Don't envy you teaching that. Considering how often I anger lords and kings, I'd be quite the poor teacher on proper diplomacy." Barristan and Davos chuckled at the sarcastic remark while Sansa had a small hint of amusement show in her colorful eyes. "Jokes aside, is there anything else of interest to share with us?'

"Well…Arya has left the Keep to explore the cliffs around the island. She's has Thoros watching her though, so she should be safe enough." Barristan replied. "You'll needn't worry about him drinking as well. The man seems to be been quite sober since we've left the capital, so he'll be more focused now."

It was a bit surprising that Thoros would be taking up bodyguard duty. It seemed everyone who had been present during the betrayal at the Red Keep were taking more proactive roles in protecting Eddard's daughters.

"Guess I know where I'm going next then." Geralt remarked back.

"Then I think this is where we part for now. I have a few personal matters to attend to, though I'll make sure to check up on Gendry for you. Just promise me you'll try to visit him later today or tomorrow."

The Witcher nodded in agreement before the sea captain walked back for the Keep, leaving Geralt with Barristan and Sansa. "So, do you know which part of the cliffs Arya went for? A general direction will do, I'm sure I'll be able to track them."

"Not that much space on the island really. The northern end has the most open ground, so I'm certain that's where she'll be."

"Then I best head that way." He'd give parting nod to the two. "I'll see both of you back at the Keep later tonight."

The three parted ways, with Sansa and Barristan heading back into the main Keep, while Geralt made his way through the grand gates and leave the dark stone fortress. He'd walk along the long stone path that connected the main fortress to the docks and warehouses that were set by the rocky shoreline, until finding a trail that lead off towards the surroundings cliffs. The surrounding remained quite barren as he moved further away from the fortress, until he'd soon see the vast stretch of grassy plateau. The flat high plain gave a wide view of the vast ocean, making it easy to spot even the smallest ship from countless miles.

"Perfect for a stronghold full of dragons. No ship would be able to siege such a place with such a creature burning them." Geralt muttered to himself, understanding one reason why the Targaryen's had built their home here.

It wasn't hard to find Arya and Thoros since the flat area had them stand out. The two were nearby the cliffs and from the Witcher could tell having a duel of some kind. The Red Priest had found a sturdy long stick which he was swinging about at the young girl. Arya was constantly on the move as she'd back step, duck and twist about to avoid the large man's attacks. She also used Needle to block and redirect any blows that slipped pass her agile defense, giving her time to reposition.

"Hah! Very good!" Thoros bellowed out as the two finished their short bout once they noticed the Witcher approaching. "Have to hand it to you Geralt, you and Syrio have taught this one well. Moves like a viper while having the tenacity of a wolf, which is expected of course."

A confident grin hinted the girl's lips from hearing Thoros compliment, making Geralt shake his head slightly in amusement. "Best cut down on the praise else it will go to her head. I'll admit she has a solid defense, though her offense needs to be worked on."

"Its not easy considering…" Arya remarked with a hint of frustration. "I know I need to target the joints and unarmored spots, but it's difficult to get an open even when I pull off a good parry!"

The Witcher nodded in understanding as he'd pace closer to the two. "Guess it time to focus beyond just dueling style and technique. In fact, Thoros will be a good…substitute teacher for Syrio."

"Teaching isn't really my thing you know Geralt." Thoros replied.

"Would you prefer training dummy instead?"

"Fine…teacher will do." The Red Priest grumbled, making an amused smirk hint the Witcher's face and a slight giggle from Arya. "So, my guess is you need to tell the little one how she's going to deal with someone better armored like me right?"

Geralt nodded as he'd look to Arya who'd move to a nearby boulder to sit on, resting a bit while paying close attention to the two. "That is correct. Arya could take on unarmored or lightly armored opponents, however someone like you or even a well-armed soldier can prove more difficult." He'd pace around Thoros who stood by still, gesturing at the man's mix of robes and worn armor. "You may know the weak spots but need ways to exploit them."

"Beyond just out-maneuvering and parring? I know you and Thoros mix in punches at times but…" She'd give a short shrug, pointing out her slim arms.

"Heh, you're much more fit then most girls your age, even ones tolling on a farm. Still I see the issue since you'd be cracking your knuckles just striking at against chainmail." The Red Priest remarked with a chuckle.

"Which is why you need a little touch up to your gear. Need some proper leather clothing for better protection, yet not limiting your speed. I think some reinforced gloves and steel toed boots would help you deal some surprise attacks of your own. I'm sure Gendry could work on crafting it."

The mention of the blacksmith had a faint grin hint the girl's face, who nodded in agreement. "So, since that will take a while…could you teach me about those magic tricks you used before back in King's Landing?"

"My Signs you mean?" It made sense the girl had seen him use them during their escape from the capital, the display of power no doubt sparking interest in her young mind. Even glancing at Thoros he could tell the priest was just as eager to learn more of the Witcher's magical prowess. "Its…not something I can simply teach you or anyone really."

"Why is that? When you threw Jaime off the stage or shot out fire all I saw you do was make a gesture…umm…" Arya struggled to angle her fingers in the Igni pose while giving an annoyed scowl.

"Not as simple as it looks." The Witcher smirked, making the girl give a small sigh of defeat.

"So there is more to just making a gesture, right?" Thoros questioned.

Geralt nodded. "Beyond the gesture, learning a Sign takes weeks or months of intense mediation to…'understand' it. Some trainees with natural talent learn, though all Witchers can use Signs once they had gone through the changes."

"So, you have more tricks beyond shooting fire and tossing people around with a wave of your hand?"

"Yes, though I think it be would be better to show you. I need someone to practice them against, want to make sure they are working normally."

"Because of how you passed out on the night of the comet? Had a feeling there was something more to you collapsing." The man stretched a bit, seeming ready for the Witcher. "Alright then, guess this be a good lesson for me as well. If I plan to travel with you, better I know what your fully capable."

"If you're willing." Still, Geralt knew he had to be careful using his Signs since he felt so empowered ever since coming to this world. The last thing he wanted to do was accidently kill the priest in front of Arya. "Let's start with a Sign I haven't used, a defensive one called Quen." Deftly, he quickly made the Sign, a bright shimmer coursing over his body before fading which drew a surprised gasp from Arya and a curious look from Thoros. Geralt felt no strain on his body like before and knew the Sign was at its usual strength. In fact, the casting felt easier to do then even when he was back on his own world.

"Nifty light show, though you don't look any more protected to me."

"Draw your sword and strike me then." Geralt spread his arms out, leaving himself completely open for an attack.

Thoros expression became quite serious. He didn't react at first, staring down the Witcher before suddenly drawing it sword and striking out, putting his full speed and strength to that blow. The blade came down at Geralt's right shoulder, a cleaving blow.

"NO!" Arya yelled out before there was a resounding bang and crackle as energy sparked out from where the blade made contact.

Thoros cursed out, body jolting back as he was shocked by the protective magic. It was a good thing Geralt hadn't focused enough power into the Sign, else the man could have faced a more lethal charge. "Guh…by the flames…" The Red Priest quickly saw how Geralt had even shifted an inch after that attack. "You didn't even flinch, and my damn arm is numb after that." He'd rub over the limb, chuckling.

"That's how useful Quen is. We both know that even an experienced warrior can't avoid every hit, especially when greatly outnumbered. One lucky blow can easily end you or leave you open for follow up attacks. Slow long as I maintain Quen I can keep up a perfect defense."

"Amazing…but why do I think it can do more than that?" Arya questioned excitedly.

"If given even focus, I can make Quen block more than one blow and even give a dangerous shock to whoever hits me." He'd glance to Thoros who had just shook off the numbness he felt. "Also, I can create a wider shield too." Again, he'd made the Sign but held it this time a transparent yellow bubble formed around him, warding him from all angles.

"Woah! Now that is impressive looking." Thoros had his sword blade drag along the surrounding shield, the surface ripple like water, along with being unyielding when he pressed the weapon against it. "Bet a unit of archers wouldn't be able to hit you."

"I'll admit I've never tested this against such an attack." He'd drop the shield, flexing his hand since keeping the Sign was tiring on the fingers. "The full ward is a stronger defense, although I can't fight back and taking too many blows will exhaust me."

"Hmm…makes sense, the effort put in having equal stress." Thoros commented. "What else is there?'

"Yrden. You can say it's a mixed Sign, good for offense and defense." Geralt made the gesture before pressing his hand to the ground, making a wide circle of purple runes to appear.

"Wow!" Arya gawked a bit since this was the flashiest display of magic the Witcher had shown yet, making her hop from his sitting spot and moving closer to the circle. She paced around it carefully, unsure what would happen if she stepped into the ring.

"It should be safe for both of you. Yrden only has an effect when someone hostile to me enters it."

On cue, Thoros gave a sudden yell and lunge, going for a jabbing punch at Geralt. The Witcher did see it coming but didn't move as the man passed through the runic ring, only to start moving at a snail's pace. Confusion crossed the man's face as he realized what was going on, all while the Witcher casually walked around to avoid the blow.

"That is what happens when an enemy enters this circle. Yrden's binding properties can even affect more…otherworldly things, at least from where I come from." Again, he's make the Sign, dispelling the circle and making Thoro nearly tumble onto his face.

"Damn Geralt…I knew you were different, but these abilities of yours…" The man shook his head, seeming a bit shaken with all of this. "I doubt anyone could beat you between your swordsmanship, these Signs and whatever tricks you still haven't shown."

Geralt was silent as the hardened warrior priest gave that statement, making Arya give a pondering look as well. Indeed, the Witcher hadn't faced many defeats against another human, the only one being against the powerful sorcerer Vilgefortz. The man had been a master of the magical arts and spent a lifetime honing his physical combat skills, making him a more fearsome foe to even the Eredin of the Wild Hunt. It was kind of amusing that a simple illusion and luck had been all the Witcher needed to take down that mad man in the end.

"Hopefully I won't face anyone that will push me that far." Indeed, he wasn't sure how much more powerful he had become since the Red Comet. One detail he hadn't shared with either Thoros was the fact that he was actively using minimal power to his Signs, since even a normally charged one could prove harmful to the man thanks to the magically empowered world. "Any way, I think I've demonstrated enough. I expect you two to keep what I've shown to yourselves…rather not have everyone knowing my secrets."

"Never been loose with my words even when lost in drink. Consider your secrets safe with me." Thoros remarked with a nod.

Arya was silent before quickly nodding as well, a sharper look in her eyes as she took this matter quite seriously. "So, if I can't learn Signs what can you teach me then?"

"For now, we need to keep honing your fighting style, personalize it more for you along with expanding your adaptability. Improving your strength and dexterity with tougher exercises will be our next focus." He'd think for a moment, wanting to start a basic test for her. "Set your sword aside for now. Let's truly test your reflex and agility."

"Right." Arya set Needle aside on the boulder as she'd follow Geralt to a clear area that lacked any rocks or debris that they could trip over. Thoros stood by to watch as the Witcher set his own sword aside before turning to face the young Stark, the two a dozen yards apart. "So, what are we going to do exactly?"

"You rely on your mobility to fight and defend, which means you must not have any flaws with your movements." Geralt shifted into a fighting stands, tense to quickly move forward. "For this test, you can't strike back or fall. Understood?"

The blunt challenge had Arya shift slightly, nervous since the Witcher's gaze had a quite stern look to it. She'd soon shift her own stance, ready for her test as she'd give a short nod to him. At that point Geralt rushed her, the short sprint truly showing off his inhuman speed as he quickly closed the distance between them. The young girl was obviously shocked, already back stepping away as he barely avoided a sweeping shove from the Witcher. Yet it was a distracting move as his left foot was out, making the girl tumble down onto her back as she tripped in her hurry to get away from him.

"Ugh…so quick…" She muttered, shifting to get up despite the rough fall. "Did you have to move so…fast?"

"This isn't going to be like the fencing lessons. This is Witcher training now." Geralt paced back to be at the same starting distance, ready for another round. "If you can match my speed and predict my moves, you'll be able to outpace anyone in Westeros. Avoiding the first move was a good start…so let's continue."

By now Arya stood up, seeming to understand how difficult training was about to become. Taking a deep breath, she'd tense up in a readied stance before nodding to begin. Once more Geralt lunged forward, this time the young Stark not being startled by his sudden movement. The Witcher repeated the same moves, the sweeping shove and the back-leg trip, this time Arya avoiding the last move as she'd hop over it. Geralt followed up with a short shoulder charge, Arya twisting to get further away only to get struck to the side of the head by his elbow as he turned about as well. The blow was enough to make her lose balance and again fall, wincing as she'd rub the spot she had been hit at.

"That hurt…" She grumbled as she took a moment to catch her breath.

"And I pulled back on that blow. Imagine how a true strike would have been for you." He calmly stated as again he return to the starting distance. "If you let me force you into a certain move, you'll be exposed for a follow up attack." He'd wait for Arya stand up again. "Once more."

The same spar played out again and again, Geralt always doing the same moves in the same order. Arya refined each move as she followed the pattern, avoiding the same mistakes and recognizing what movements to avoid doing based on the situation. It wasn't easy for her though as she'd be tripped, knocked or thrown about whenever Geralt was able to outsmart her. After a few hours, Geralt stopped as Arya stayed down this time, gasping for breath from exhaustion. Her hair was messed up and the constant falls had her covered in grass and dirt.

"That is enough. You did well today, better than expected." Geralt remarked, seeming unfazed after the long practice they had done.

"Think you pushed the lass a bit too much. Girl be lucky to stand at all tomorrow." Thoros chuckled, the man having remained silent during their training. The man got up and stretch a bit while Geralt moved over to Arya, offering a hand to help her up. "Can't imagine what the more serious lessons will be."

"All Witcher lessons are considered serious." Geralt stated back as he'd pull Arya up, the girl shaky on her feet though standing mostly on her own. "Not too roughed up right? When we get back to the Keep I can get something to ease any pain or soreness from the Maester."

Arya nodded, seeming too tired to speak as she'd cling a bit to Geralt's arm for support as the trio started to head back to the distant fortress. Again, this brought a feeling a déjà vu to the Witcher as he'd look down at the young Stark who just glanced back at him with those gray colored eyes.

"You did well today. Most trainees didn't get as far as you for so long."

The simple praise had a faint smile hint the girl's face, easing the tired look she had. After the short walk back to the black stone keep, Arya shift away from Geralt to walk on her own as the neared the main path leading to the gates. While she was roughed up, she didn't want to seem injured or weak to anyone in the courtyard. The mix of soldiers and servants working about still, showing things were overall calm in the Keep.

"You two should head in for a late lunch while I go to the forges to take care of a few matters."

Thoros gave a short nod before he'd move on ahead to the main keep and for the dining hall, stopping at the doors as Arya lingered to speak with the Witcher. "Tell Gendry I said hello. Maybe…well…I'll try to visit him later this week."

"I'll be sure to do that. Now go eat and rest up, tomorrow we're going to continue with a new exercise, so I want you fit for the next morning."

She'd quickly nod, giving that sharp look of determination. "I'll be ready. Promise."

With a light pat on the shoulder, Geralt watched her hurry off to the main keep with Thoros following her. The Witcher stood by for a moment to think over the girl's first day, which had indeed been a successful start. He knew it was going to be tiring and rough for her, but she showed the same commitment the rest of her hearty family showed.

"May just have what it takes." He muttered to himself before heading into the keep as well and finding the stairway down into the dark depths of Dragonstone's underground.

…

Geralt had visited many vast ruins and underground passageways in his long life, yet the passages of Dragonstone rivaled them. Considering the place was hundreds of years old along with being a mix of natural and constructed chambers, the vast space could very well spread across the whole island. While he nearly got turned around in the shadowy passages, his sharp senses helped him pick out the stand on banging metal and bellowing fires among the whispering winds blowing through this place.

The chamber that housed the old forges were quite large, which made sense considering the unique design about the many smelting and smithing devices around. The forges were a mix of black stone and metal, designed like much of Dragonstone to be stylized as roaring dragons. Whenever the nearby bellows were worked hard, it makes the flame surge out as if the stone dragon was trying to spew flames. Geralt saw how the ceiling also had holes borrowed out across it, letting the smoke and heat flow out to the surface. Still the air was hot and thick, making the Witcher already sweat in his leather clothing.

His attention focused onto the workers, smiths and craftsman busy repairing or forging new gear for the soldiers above. They seemed to have plenty of materials on hand thanks to the supplies Davos had been providing over the last few months, enough to arm a small army at least. With so many people about, it was difficult to pick out Gendry, so he focused on seeking out the foreman. It wasn't hard to find the man considering his attire was made of finer material and the fact his booming voice was constantly giving out orders.

"Keep fuel going for those flames! I don't want any delays on the latest orders!" The short-bearded man noticed Geralt approaching, his snarled expression becoming a friendlier one. "Ser Geralt! An honor to have you visit us down here." The took firmly shook hands before the foreman continued. "I was at King's landing during the tournament. Always enjoy seeing the fights and seeing the finest arms the men use, though I can say yours were the most impressive."

"Thank you. I take you have quite the experience working here?"

"Aye. Been here since the Rebellion two decades back. Was little more than a journeyman at the time, though my efforts got me noticed by Lord Stannis. When I was requested to come serve here, I didn't hesitate to say yes." The two started to stroll around the chamber, watching the smiths at work. "Dragonstone forges are one of Westeros's oldest and finest, though admittedly not fully understood. I thought they'd hold answers to Valyrian steel. Sadly my experiments have not gained any tangible results."

Geralt simply nodded as he listened. Considering what Mott had shared, he knew well what was missing to the forging process for such fine weapons. Still, he had to feel impressed by the foreman's ambition and dedication to his craft. "Can say this forge outclasses anything from my home, though the one at Mott could be considered a good equal."

"Heh! Perhaps…the man does have odd techniques and knowledge on his side, though I doubt it match what to the Valyrians." The man waved one hand about. "Bah, but you're not here to yammer on such history and debate. What do you need of us Witcher?"

"Want to talk to one of your workers, a young lad by the name of Gendry. He was part of our group from Ser Davos ship."

"Ah that lad!" The man nodded towards one of the anvils where the young man was busy hammering out a new blade across it. Considering his age, the boy was quite fit and seemed quite focused on his task even as the two approached. "Boy's been working all nonstop. So far, the quality of his crafts matches some of my top workers, even though he claims his teacher to have been a simple man."

Geralt guessed Gendry was trying not to reveal too much of his past to the people here at Dragonstone, perhaps for his safety or to avoid attention. If they knew he had been apprenticed to one of Westeros most praised smiths, he'd be constantly bothered. "Must have been a humble yet talented master then."

The foreman gave a short shrug as they'd walk up to Gendry who'd finish up on the sword before sinking it down in a large bucket of water and then setting it aside to fully cool. Wiping sweat off his brow, he'd at last notice the foreman and Geralt, giving a short respectful nod to them both. "My lords."

"Heh no need for lording with me boy. Ser Geralt only wanted to check up on you." The foreman chuckled, giving a firm pat on the boy's shoulder.

"Would prefer to talk privately with him. Think he's earned a break?" Geralt asked.

"See no harm. Lad hasn't taken much time off today and has met the quota. Can take the rest of the day if he wishes." The foreman glanced to Gendry who remained silent, only giving a short nod to answer back.

"Then let's go." Geralt turned and moved to leave the forge, only pausing to make sure Gendry followed once the boy grabbed any of his personal tools to put back on his belt. The two walked out of the hot chamber and into the cooler passages ways, moving through the maze a bit until the Witcher stopped. "So…settling in just fine?"

"Yes, but I know that isn't why you're here Geralt." Gendry muttered. "Something has come up after you spoke to my uncle hasn't it."

For a moment Geralt didn't answer, trying to think of a proper answer to give back. "Lord Stannis is…complicated."

"You mean as stern and stubborn as the rumors go." Gendry bluntly stated.

"He has a dead set view on about the world, with a determination to taking his rightful place on the Iron Throne. He had some…extreme thoughts about whoever oppose him."

"Like the Lannisters…Lord Robb…Me?"

The boy again showed that observative wit, the same kind his father had at times. "I haven't told him the truth about you…not yet."

"Because your worried of what he may do to me?'

"It's a precaution."

Gendry clenched his fists now in a show of frustration. "So, what do you suggest? That I run again if he plans to kill me like the Lannisters?"

"Lord Robb would accept you under his protection. He's a trustworthy and-"

"But what if that doesn't work out? What if Stannis demands he hands me over? Do I run again…until I have to cower beyond the Wall just to be safe?!" The young man snapped those last words out.

"That won't happen!" Geralt spoke sternly, making Gendry snap out of his anger. "Most is uncertain now, yet I won't let fear or doubt muddle my choices. It shouldn't for you." Giving a small sigh, Geralt put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I'll find the right moment to talk to Stannis, once I'm sure he has no intents to harm you. For now, just on focus your craft and bonding with the other smiths."

Gendry relaxed his hands, giving a short nod before that hand left his shoulder. For a moment, he seemed ready to remark back before deciding otherwise. "Will that be all Ser?"

"I do have a small request…more of a request from Arya really." The mention of the young Stark brought a curious look in Gendry's eyes. "She needs proper armor for training and travel. I have designs that should help you craft…that is if you can handle leatherworking."

"Heh…just because you see me working metal doesn't mean I can't do leathercrafting." A show of pride showed on the man's face now. "I can request the foreman for supplies-"

"No need for that. I can get you all the materials need, top quality stuff. Just be sure to do this project on your off time."

"Of course." Gendry paced about slightly, seeming a bit restless. "May I go now Ser? I feel I'll be resting for the rest of the day."

"Nothing else Gendry." Geralt was unsure what else to say to the boy, since overall his future was uncertain right now. However, he was dead set on making sure he was safe along with the rest of his companions. "I'll see you tomorrow with the blueprints and supplies. Until then." With a parting nod, he'd turn to disappear down the dark corridor towards the way out of the underground, leaving Gendry by himself.

…

Gendry

Taking a deep breath as he'd flop down onto the simple bed he had, having at least been given a small private room that he had been given close to the workshop and forge. He liked the privacy yet always felt on edge in this gloomy place. While part of him hated the idea of running, he'd have no regrets leaving this place.

"Damn fate…or luck…" He cursed to himself as he shifted up to sit on his bed, one foot accidently knocking over his travel pack with spilled out some of its contents. Quickly, he'd shift down to collect it, though noticed one item that wasn't his own. It was a small black leather notebook with the mark of his master's free city on it, a black goat being the symbol. He always seen the master smith writing in this book, making him wonder what was in it and why the man had snuck this into his pack. Curiosity won over as he'd open it and began to read.

To my apprentice Gendry,

I'm sorry we did not have a chance to speak formally before having to send you away, yet time was limited. Conflict is certain and hopefully you will be far from it. As for me, my actions in aiding Geralt's group will no doubt put me at risk unless fate and luck are on my side. Do not worry for me, for this was my choice to make and I will face whatever consequences it brings.

Whatever my fate, I have entrusted you with a copy of my personal notes on forging. It's no secret that I have longed to rediscover the secrets of Valyrian Steel and recently I have had a breakthrough thanks to the Witcher. My notes detail the process I've learned, yet the key step to smelting requires dragon fire.

I know you will be at Dragonstone by the time reading this, a place where the Targaryens kept many secrets of their reign. There could be an alternative method the Valyrian's may have had, otherwise ways of creating their steel has died with the dragons.

You're a sharp lad and have your father's unyielding determination. He was a flawed man, yet deep down he did care for you and wanted to live a normal life. I hope that your travels will be safe in these troubled times and that we may one day meet again.

From, Master Tobho Mott

Finishing the letter, Gendry gave a low sigh and bowed his head slightly. He had to admit that while Mott had been a strict teacher, he had been the closest one to being a father figure to him. Part of was worried for the master smith, though had to trust the man was capable enough to stay safe. What conflicted him the most was the man's comments about his father, Robert Baratheon.

"Did he ever care for anyone? Seemed like it was only himself." He muttered to himself in frustration. After all, Robert was the one who abandoned his mother to raise him up and then die to sickness. Even if he did put him under Mott's care, that didn't make up for leaving her. What angered him the most was how people like Mott and Geralt claimed the man felt regret for his selfish actions.

Gritting his teeth, he put those thoughts aside as he'd read through the book until he saw the later notes. The notes detailed the exact steps to what made up Valyrian steel, most of it being quite rare and exotic mix of metals from what he knew. The latter half of the notes though was more…mystical, showing sketches of runes and arcane rites.

"Don't even understand any of this." Already the boy wondered if Geralt would understand these diagrams, since Mott had mentioned the Witcher aiding his research. He was conflicted on involving the Witcher, considering the man had so much to handle already.

"Once I search this place…then I'll ask him." Taking a deep breath, he'd shut the book before finding some gray cloth to wrap it up to cover up the fine leather book, so it didn't stand out if he was ever searched. Packing it away, he'd lay back on the worn bed with a weary sigh. "A bastard born son of one of Westeros' greatest warriors…now hunted by one of the land's most ruthless House's…all while seeking lost knowledge of Valyria." He'd chuckle a bit at how much it sounded like the legends of old.

"Just hope my tale has a happy ending…"

…

Hadrian - Riverlands – Late Morning

Hadrian's head swayed as he rested in his seat beside Marcus, having been awake for much of the ride since last night's attack. Garm was sitting in the back of the cart, the half-wolf snoozing while his master calmly drove the horses down the road. The gruff man showed not one hint of exhaustion despite having not slept at all throughout the night, even when Hadrian had offered to take the reins. He always kept his gaze to the thick tree line for anything odd. Overall, the forest seemed to be normal in these parts as the birds and peaceful wildlife were active.

"Odd times indeed." He muttered under his breath before glancing ahead down the road. "Oi…Hadrian." Nudging the young man, he'd snap awake with a small yelp, though quickly calmed down when he realized what was going on.

The trees and brush were clearing away to reveal a wide and beautiful valley, Blackwood Vale which some considered the 'breadbasket' of the Riverlands. The fertile valley had been cleared of trees thousands of years ago, creating the first homes for the settlers of the region…at least as the tales go. The young man's attention was to the distant white stone structure, a quite picturesque keep really. Surrounding the keep were sturdy white stone walls and thick square towers set at every corner with a well-kept moat surrounding it all. While the defenses were covered in a lush layer of moss, giving the keep a natural look to it. However, towering over even the walls and nearing the tops of the high structures was a giant weirwood tree, one that had died to old age. Some Maesters claimed it was the largest one of its kind, except for the ones hidden in the frozen lands beyond the Wall.

"Home…" He sighed, feeling at ease for once after the last few harrowing days. His gaze did drift back to the back of the cart, looking at a heavy burlap sack that had a thick red strain showing under it.

"Seen much of Westeros during my travels. Can say Blackwood Vale has that peaceful charm to it that some Kingdoms lack." Marcus remarked as they'd ride pass a few lash fields. The workers did give a curious look to them, a few even muttering as they'd recognize Hadrian. "Seems though the small folk know you though."

"I…well…do often help around the Vale." Rivers muttered a bit shyly. "Whenever someone is even slightly sick, people often come to the Hall for me if there isn't a Wiseman around. I can say no one has died under my care."

"Heh, take pride in that sire." Marcus chuckled, giving a rare grin to the man. "Bastard or not, the common people need decent lords to protect and lead them. I think you'll do just fine."

The young man shuffled slightly in his seat from the praise, though a thankful grin just showed. "Perhaps…though I still have much to learn before take such a responsibly."

The Northern gave a shrug, deciding not to press further on the matter as their cart traveled across the valley and closer to the Hall. There was a larger village nearby the walled keep, a place Hadrian often visited when not busy with his studies within the Hall. With it being late morning, most of the villagers were out and about, doing their usual chores for the day.

"Look! It's Hadrian!" An older man pointed out, quickly drawing more attention as Marcus and River's passed by.

"Wasn't he on a scouting mission to the south?"

"He had nearly a dozen men with him."

"Where's Ser Cordin?"

"Wasn't your husband one of the men in that group?"

The last muttered words had Hadrian feel that sickening feeling hit him, knowing that honest men…husbands and fathers who lived here were all dead. Already he knew he'd have to tell the people about what happened…though he doubted they'd believe monstrous witches had slaughtered them.

"Lad, your shaking." Marcus whispered in a faint voice, making the boy realize that he was indeed shaking in his seat.

"I'm fine…I'm fine…" He muttered back, taking deep breaths to calm himself. With them nearing the moat, the sturdy drawbridge was lowered down and already a group of House soldiers were walking out to question them "Stop here, I'll talk to the guards." The innkeeper nodded as he'd slow the cart down to a stop before the bridge, while Hadrian hopped off and walked towards the trio of guards. "I am Hadrian Rivers, son of Lord Tyto Blackwood." He declared, doing his best to speak in a strong and clear voice despite nervous emotions within him.

"Master Hadrian! We're surprised to see return so suddenly and under…interesting company." The leader guard remarked, glancing for a moment at Marcus and Garm, who had climbed over from the back of the cart to take the boy's old seat. "What has happened to the scouting party and-"

"Their…it's difficult to explain." Hadrian quickly answered back, trying not to share the tragic news publicly. "Please, I need to speak to father right now."

The guards muttered before nodding. "And your companion?"

"Someone who has done much for me in these last few days. I ask that you let him in as a guest and even speak with my father over what happened."

The leading guard thought a bit before noted. "If you will vouch for him then he may enter."

Giving a short thankful nod to the guard, Hadrian glanced back at Marcus who was already moving his cart across the drawbridge. The group soon entered the courtyard, letting the men in gatehouse raise the bridge up behind them. A few guards directed Marcus over to an open spot at the stables to park the cart, though Hadrian saw them chatting for a bit, pointing at Garm. In the end, the gruff northerner seemed to mutter something to the half-wolf, he give a toothy yawn before laying across the driver's seat as he guard the man's possessions. The Northern though grabbed the large burlap sack though before he left the cart.

"Seem they don't trust him tagging along." Marcus explained to Hadrian. "Don't mind though. Rather have him watch over my things instead of the guards."

Hadrian gave an amused smirk before the two were led into the keep itself by one of the guards from the drawbridge. "A lot has happened in the half week you've bene gone Master River's. Near complete chaos has broken out in the capital."

"Chaos? I know there was a trial for Lord Eddard Stark." Hadrian questioned curiously. "Father seemed tense about the matter…having gotten some ravens even baring the mark of the Hand of the King."

"Aye. Let's just say Lord Stark's trial had become an…execution." The shocking news had both Marcus and Hadrian give surprised looks. "There is much to talk about Master Rivers. Lord Blackwood will no doubt tell you what has happened of late."

The group soon entered the main hall of the keep where at the center was a group of men surrounding a large table covered with a map of Westeros along with countless letters spread across it. Rivers recognized advisers of his father such as the Maester and the Master-at-Arms. Yet the young man's gaze quickly set towards his father, who was standing at the head of the table.

Lord Tytos Blackwood indeed looked like an older Hadrian, though having a sharper look about him considering his hooked nose and short crop salt-and-pepper colored beard. He was dressed in plain gray and black finery which the emblem of a weirwood tree marked on the front. "Has there been any word from the North and the Starks about this?" He calmly spoke, his voice smooth yet having a commanding power to it as his gaze was focused on a new letter set before him.

"I doubt we will receive anything until well over a week sire. No doubt Robb Stark and Lady Catelyn will be busy calling their Houses together and gathering their bannermen." The Master-at-Arms answered before the man noticed Hadrian and Marcus approaching. "Lord Blackwood…it's your son."

Tyto's glanced up from the letter to look right at his son. For a moment that hawk like gaze softened, a sign of ease just showing in them for a moment. "Hadrian."

"Father…" The young man bowed his head slightly before approaching the table. "I'm sorry if my return was at a-"

"No need to worry Master River's. If anything, this is fortunate timing for us all." The Maester quickly remarked. "Much uncertainty about of late…"

"Much would be an understatement." Blackwood muttered grimly. "I have a feeling something terrible has happened to the scouting party…hasn't it."

There was a long pause before Hadrian nodded, taking a moment to take a deep shaky breath, "They're dead…all of them."

"What happened exactly? Who attacked you."

"Father…this may sound like a mad tale…but I swear to you it's true…"

…

The next few hours were filled with the grim details of the scouting party's massacre from Hadrian, followed by the chaotic news of what had happened in King's Landing involving Eddard's trial. The exchange of information last until mid-day, leading to a late lunch for the gathered group.

"So…'witches' killed the scouts is what you claim?' Tytos muttered, both hands gripping tightly at the edge of the table. "I can tell your being honest with me Hadrian, but surely the trauma of that ambush has warped your memory."

"I know what happened." Hadrian remarked back, nearly snapping out in a rare show of anger. "Witches…hags…monsters...whatever! I watched Ser Cordin give his life for me…getting crushed by that…thing." A chill went through the young man before he calmed himself. "Even if you don't believe me on who or what attacked us…I can only confirm there is real danger around Highheart and it's already spread throughout the woods around it."

The gathered advisors muttered about to Blackwood, no doubt sharing their thoughts on the boy's outlandish tale, though they'd quiet down when a gruff voice spoke up to draw everyone's attention. "If I may speak my lord."

Blackwood's gaze settled on the Northerner, who had a just as unyielding look in his deep blue eyes. After a tense pause, Blackwood nodded. "Considering how much you did to help my son; I'm open to hearing what you have to say."

Nodding, Marcus stood up from his seat as he'd pace more to the side of the table. "I'll admit, when I found the lad wandering through the woods in a daze, I thought he too had mistook what he saw." The man then held up the sack he had been holding. "I know you're a man who needs to see proof before him…so that is what I'll give you."

Hadrian already knew what the Northerner had planned as Marcus set the sack down onto the table before pulling it open to reveal the grotesque head of the ghoul. The sight drew a mix sickening gag from the Maester and even the Master-at-Arms face paled as he'd glance away from the horrible sight. Blackwood, while shocked by the creature kept his composure, though baffled look just hinted his face.

"By the Seven…" He muttered, looking more closely at the head as he recognized the more human like features to it. "Cordin…I can tell by the eyes and nose…" Blackwood covered his mouth as he took a deep breath, knowing he had to keep calm.

"It is him…or…was him." Hadrian muttered.

"Last night, this thing attacked us when we made camp." Marcus calmly explained. "I've hunted plenty of beasts and faced toughened soldiers who'd fight to their last breath, but this thing endured far beyond any living thing I've encountered."

"The question is how did Ser Codrin…become this abomination?" The Maester questioned.

"Either the gods, be it the old or the new have a twisted way of bringing the dead back…or perhaps the rumors of witches lurking in the swamps are real."

"You do know how crazy that sounds." Blackwood sighed. "But as you said…we have proof before us of a monster."

"Which is why you need to organize the men…or even call for Riverrun for aid!" Hadrian quickly pleaded.

"I understand how you want justice for our men, but we can't simply rush our forces now…not when we have a threat of war looming over us."

River's seemed ready to argue, but Marcus spoke up before him. "You are right Lord Blackwood…if anything you best keep everyone away from those woods. Whatever is lurking there…it isn't natural because after the night that beast attacked us I knew someone…thing…was watching us the whole way."

"So, what do you suggest then? While we can't send our full forces to Heartheart, we simply can't ignore whatever is hiding away there." The Master-at-Arms questioned.

"Simple…burn those woods down."

"That is insane! Even if we had the time to have a controlled fire…the damage to the region would be devastating to whole generations."

"Enough!" At this point Blackwood seemed to have reach his limit on this subject. "I feel we all need time to think over how to handle this new crisis, considering Westeros is possibly on the brink of a new civil war." Looking to Hadrian, he'd take a deep breath to calm himself. "All of you are dismissed. As for you Marcus, you are free to stay for the night at least."

"That is kind of you…but I'd prefer to continue on my way back to Fairmarket." The Northerner formally, if bluntly answered back. "Don't wish to worry my family by arriving home late."

"Then I wish you safe travels Marcus."

The man only gave a short respectful nod, seeming quick to leave now, though Hadrian did hurry over to him just as he was about to leave the hall. "Marcus…I…thank you for everything." The boy seemed unsure of what else to say, but the gruff man didn't mind as he'd clap a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Watch yourself River's. Storm is coming…and you'll need to be strong to survive it." With that warning given, he'd walk away down the hall, heading for the way out of the keep.

Hadrian give a tired sigh as he'd go the opposite direction, heading deeper into the keep and to his own room to clean himself up for the coming night. Part of him hated how much arguing had broken out during the meeting, though he knew his father was under a lot of stress considering the fate of Eddard Stark along with the threat of war between the North and South with the Riverlands caught in the middle. He knew that if war broke out those hags would take advantage to use the bloodshed and chaos…who knew what horrors they would do.

…

"Garm." Marcus's quick remark had the half-wolf's eyes snap awake, the canine seeming alert despite being asleep moments ago. The Northerner checked the ties and reins to his horses before noticing someone approaching him. "Forget to ask me something Lord Blackwood?" He muttered as he finished tightening the straps up.

Tytos didn't respond at first as he watched Marcus move to the side of the cart. "I'm wondering why you'd put yourself at risk of being recognized. Did you think ten years would make everyone forget about you?" He calmly questioned.

"Past is the past my lord. You know that well enough."

"Aye…yet the Boltons haven't forgotten your actions against them. Even after all this time they have kept the bounty on you, though few care for it considering it's over a decade old."

Marcus didn't answer back as he'd heft himself onto the cart and grasp the reins, keeping his gaze away from Blackwood. "So, what will you do? Could have jailed me back in your hall."

"Because I know an innocent man when I see one…and consider this my payment for saving my son."

There be a tense pause between the two before Marcus gave a grunt and low nod. "Then consider us even my lord." A faint smirk hinted his face now. "May the Seven and Old Gods keep you well. Good day Blackwood…" Cracking the reins, the horses pulled the cart forward across the lowered cross bridge and down the road through the village.

"You too…huntsman…" Blackwood muttered to himself, hoping he had made the right choice in letting the Northerner go considering his true reputation.

…

Despite how quickly he had ridden off, Marcus did take the time to make a quick stop at the village's message board just at the edge of it. It was just a habit he always followed, mainly because he was looking for a certain message pinned up. He had a feeling that recent events in King's Landing were not as a random as they seemed, making him wonder if his…associates were active once more.

"Hells be damned…" His attention focused on a message pinned to the board, more of a poetic eulogy considering how it was written.

Grim tidings my dear friends.
Such troubling days we now face with our good King Robert Baratheon murdered in the Shadow of his greatest hunt. To suffer death from the milk of the Viper's, a choking pain that can crush even an iron heart.
How So many mourn his passing. The Wolves of the North howl while The Stones of Storm's End crack in agony to the south and the noble lion roars in rage to the east.
Yet there should be celebration though, for the man would not wish us to wallow in sorrow. To my good friends, we met at the linking of great rivers and under a warm Northern hearth. Be sure to remember three kegs to bring cheer to us all!
Signed, Red Cap

"Always with his stupid poetic messages." Marcus growled as he'd grab the notice, ripping it off the board and crumpling it up in one hand. Getting back onto his cart, he'd have it moving once more while the other rubbed over Garm's head, scratching behind the half-wolf's ear. He'd turn onto the eastern road, following the sign pointed towards Fairmarket.

"From blood of kings…murder and lies. Seems the time is right for us to play our last gambit…Zarin."

….