Chapter Twelve: Dark Wings

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The nights were full of dreams for all the Stark children, often they ran together as a pack hunting and exploring the terrain around the castle. They discovered things through their wolves eyes that they would never know otherwise. Arya found a series of caves that led underground and came up near the road to Moat Cailin completely protected from discovery by a rocky crop at the entrance. Sansa enjoyed running through the crisp night air while Robb loved the thrill of the chase hunting and killing. Jon explored with Arya and Bran ran through multiple wolves at once.

Sansa woke and stretched sleepily back in her human form, her eyes fluttered open and she sleepily looked around. Her arms stretched out and she ran a hand down the side of her direwolf, Lady, who stirred and looked across with her bright yellow eyes. Usually Sansa felt drained of energy following a busy night as a wolf but today she felt, powerful as if her blood was singing. Stretching her body again she smiled and rolled onto her side ruffling Lady's fur and ripping the blankets from covering her. Slinking across her room she flicks her hands through her garments, slender white fingers skipping quickly through countless silken dresses. Many of which she hadn't worn in the longest time, she smiles to herself as she remembers the girl she used to be, before her father put a sword in her hand in that is. Sansa recalled the first time she tried sword work with a dress on, she was thankful her sister wasn't present to see it. Smiling at the memory she pulls out the clothes for today and inspects them carefully, and sets them out on her bed. Stripping to naked from her nightclothes she slowly dresses while consciously thinking of her dreams, she was seeing people all over the country and knew what they were doing and thinking. It was interesting to visit the places she had read about and people she had heard stories of. Slipping on the leather pants and loose shirt Sansa sighed, and then laughed out loud looking at herself in the mirror as she braided her own hair. If someone had told her not long ago she'd be wearing fighting clothes, dressing herself and braiding her own hair she would've called them daft. Now it was her daily ritual which wasn't complete until she put on her wolf patterned jacket and sheathed her sword. She briefly held her sword in her hand and saw the reflection of her eyes, for the first time she saw a woman staring back at herself, a strong woman who was capable and not weak. Grasping the hilt of her sword, a grey wolf with diamond eyes, she sheathed her sword and called to Lady. Confidently the pair strutted through the castle nodding to servants as they went, crossing through the long corridors and through towering archways into the old castle. Exiting the castle into the crisp morning Sansa relished the feeling of the fresh morning air on her skin, closing her eyes momentarily she was taken back to being a wolf free to run in the night. She pressed on into the Godswood, they were already there waiting for her, her brothers, sister and parents. Sansa crossed through the garden towards the Weirwood, the sun falling in patches through the gaps of the leaves illuminating the path in front of her. Assuming the free space in between Arya and Jon, slowly she kneeled, spread her hands across the roots and dipped her head. The Stark family gathered this way daily, ringed around the tree, heads dipped and eyes closed praying in silence to the Old Gods that guided them.

Following prayer everyone went their own direction, Arya went to practice throwing knives, Jon and Robb had lessons in politics, Bran stayed in deep meditation under the tree and Rickon grasped Catelyns hand and toddled back into the castle with Ned. Only Sansa ventured deeper into the garden, feeling a calling to be close to the earth. Stripping off her boots and stockings, she wriggled her toes into the earth and sighed in relief. The earth called to her, the coolness of the air under the tree canopy, the smell of fresh dirt, the sound of trees waving in the wind, called to Sansa from her window at night. She longed to be a tree, be in the earth, to be of the earth.

Catelyn turned back to watch Sansa push deeper into the garden noting her recent change from prim and proper lady to a real Northern girl. Ned turned back too and smiled, he preferred this change this more down to earth version of Sansa was kinder, and softer. Both Ned and Catelyn looked down at Rickon who pulled them back into the castle, they allowed him to lead them. Looking back one last time Ned caught sight of Sansa as she suddenly changed from human form into a flock of butterflies. A huge wisp of white butterflies that danced through the garden and swirled around the flowers flapping their wings gleefully on the breeze.

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Robb wiped the sweat from his brow, the heat didn't bother him but the constant sweat was mildly annoying. He gazed transfixed into the flames and they reflected in his eyes, he had been stunned to discover his affinity for fire. Slowly he opened his hand and palm facing up held his hand in front of the fire, the flames obediently leapt onto his palm and continued to dance to their own beat. Robb lifted his hand and flattened his palm, the flame circled around his forearm travelling up to his shoulder, slid across his shoulders and rested in the opposite palm.

He was alone in the forge which was unusual, his Father had given the men the morning off working on weapons to check the strength of the castles defences. Before Ned rode out to White Harbour he had pulled Robb aside and quietly said to him, "The forge will be empty, go there instead of your lessons today and when I return tell me what you discover". Robb had solemnly nodded in reply as he passed Ned the weapon he had forged which was wrapped in a cloak. Ned smiled with pride and pulled his son in for an embrace before mounting his horse and issuing orders that the gates remain closed until he returns. To many people they didn't see it, but Robb knew his Father and Ned was on edge. He heard the worried tone in his voice, and by the orders he had given wanted to secure the castle while he was gone.

Now the flames danced around his shoulders, Robb reflected on his fathers words. What was he meant to discover? He had already achieved wildly outrageous things he never thought any mortal would be capable of. The flames came to his call, and he forged a metal with close resemblance to Valyrian Steel, his dreams saw him take the form of a wolf every night and he no longer felt the pain of the flames burning him. Gazing at the swirling flames on his shoulders he exhaled loudly, what else could he do??

A raven flashed in his mind and the flames responded, leaping from Robbs shoulders a flock of ravens made of fire swooped around the forge. Robb looked amazed, with a flicker of his thought the flame ravens flew into themselves and became a horse regarding him silently as it's mane and tail flared wildly. Holding out his hand the horse reared above him and jumped into the air, swirling around on itself and becoming a ball of flames once more. Returning to his hand he laughed a little and watched the dancing flames closely in his palm.

Noting how pleasant the flames felt now he remembered the pain he used to feel when he would accidentally burn himself. The flames lashed out wildly hissing and throwing sparks, and for a moment he felt that pain. But it withdrew quickly, it was an interesting development but not something he desired to continue testing on himself. Glancing around the workshop the weapons made for the armory hung over the walls, shields, axes, swords, spears, every kind of weapon known to man had been forged. His eyes wandered across his small collection of swords, shields and spears. Patiently the flames danced on his palm as Robb contemplated what he wanted to forge next, before his eyes, a battle axe of flames materialised in his hand. Grasping the handle he looked at it in awe and swung its heavy form several times shaking his head in disbelief.

A noise sounded behind Robb and startled he looked around, and caught sight of his younger brother Bran. Robbs eyes were wide and wild sure he'd been caught but calmed when he saw his brother and he beckoned to Bran to enter. Bran stepped in with hesitation looking at the enormous flame axe Robb held. In an instant the axe diminished to a ball of flames in Robbs hands and leapt back to rejoin the flames, Robb watched them go with a look of melancholy on his face. Bran stepped to his brothers side and held his hand out to the flames, Robb watched unsure what would happen as Bran cautiously edged forward. His hand reached the flames and they lashed out and hissed, with a cry of pain Bran withdrew his hand and cradled it against his body.

"Guess the flames aren't interested in working with all of us" he said with a smile to Robb.

Robbs face broke into a small smile too but it was etched with worry, he gently took Brans hand and looked at it. A red nasty burn had risen, Robb placed his hand over the burn and lifted his hand. To Brans surprise flames leapt out of his hand and Robb tossed them back into the fire. Bran looked at his hand in amazement, the burn was gone.

"How did you?" he asked his big brother in awe.

Robb shrugged, "I don't know," he admitted, "I just do what comes to me in my mind. I'm learning as I go"

Robb sat on a stool in front of the flames and looked up at Bran, "What about you? If I can handle fire surely you have something you can do as well?"

Bran looked to the floor and became nervous, Robb leaned down and looked up into Brans nervous face.

"Well?" he questioned

"I don't know how to explain it," mumbled Bran, "people talk to me but I hear their thoughts, what they're really thinking. And-," he stopped appearing as if to struggle to say the words, "I can see things"

Robb chuckled, "So can I, I can see you, the flames..."

"No not physical things, moments in time, people, places, conversations"

"From the past?" questioned Robb curiously, Bran nodded and sat across from Robb. The flames danced along the side of his face making strange shadows.

"Past, present and future, but the future changes. I might see one thing happen and the next minute it's gone, or it changes completely"

"Fascinating," uttered Robb absentmindedly.

"Father has these skills too," blurted out Bran, "I've seen it...in my visions"

Robb nodded, he guessed as much but they had never spoken of it.

"What can he do?"

"He hears thoughts too, sees moments in time. He hasn't found his skill yet though. Not like the rest of us"

"Rest of us?" said Robb, confused.

Bran smiled which looked evil in the shadows, "Each one of us has a talent Robb, even Rickon"

Robb didn't know this, he hadn't spoken to any of his siblings and they hadn't spoken to him about this. They prayed together every morning and then they all went their seperate ways until dinner. His sisters had their own schedules as did Bran and Rickon, the only sibling he really saw was Jon. But he could never really get in depth with him because Theon would always be with them too. Jon and Theon did not get along so it was mostly bickering and sparring that happened. Robb didn't respond straight away, he leaned forward and picked up a rock at his feet. Turning it over in his hands as his mind contemplated what this means. Bran stared into the flames silently for a while and the brothers just sat together.

Robb began to throw the rock into the air and catch it, Bran watched him with a slight smile across his face. As he watched the rock began to change form, as Robb threw it the rock would liquefy and reform into solid again. Bran leaned forward his mouth open, "Do that again", he said suddenly.

Robb stopped and looked confused, the rock in his hand. Bran indicated he throw it again, "Do it again," he urged him, "throw it". Robb shrugged and threw the rock into the air, higher this time. Bran leaned forward and watched the rock sail through the air in slow motion, it was completely liquid and it became a rock as soon as it touched Robbs hand.

"You don't see it do you?" he asked Robb excitedly, "throw it higher and watch it Robb"

Confusion knitted his brows together but he did it again, Robb threw the rock higher and as it soared above him he watched the rock become liquid. This time he didn't catch it, it dropped to the ground between his legs and pebbles smattered across the ground around him. Robb looked over to Bran and looked confused still, but Bran jumped to his feet.

"Come with me," was all he said as he grabbed Robb's hand and pulled him out of the forge. Robb laughed with uncertainty, where could Bran be taking him with so much excitement?!

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Wherever Robb was Jon cursed him, the whole day he was lumped with Theon and without Robb to mediate the bickering between them grew heated numerous times. Their teacher had angrily ended their lessons after the boys erupted over a disagreement over history lessons. Yet their arguments didn't stop there, they continued during sparring ending with Jon disarming Theon and punching him in the jaw. That skirmish needed to be broken up by numerous guards and Jory Cassel. By the time dinner came Jon and Theon were in black moods with each other and the world around them. Their bickering continued through dinner until Catelyn who sat in her chair at the head of the table next to Neds empty chair yelled at them to stop.

"I've been hearing nothing but fighting has been happening all day between you two! It stops, here!" angered she looked between the boys, neither her child but in her care all the same.

Theon muttered angrily into his food while Jon stared back in defiance, his angry gaze burning into hers. Jon's cheeks flushed and he abruptly stood and slammed his plate down.

"Sit down Jon!" commanded Catelyn, her face reddening now too. Jon looked around, his sisters were frozen over their meals, Rickon was watching and Theon was grinning with satisfaction. Bran and Robb were absent. His defiance hardened, he refused to sit.

"You are not my mother!" raged Jon and he swept from the dining hall, slamming the door behind him. He didn't stop to see the look of hurt on Catelyns face as he stormed out, or the look of pure shock on Arya and Sansa's face. He didn't want to be anywhere but alone in his bed, he angrily stormed through the castle and slammed his bedroom door. Pacing the room anger still whirling inside he heard the room around him freezing over. The characteristic crackling sound of icicles forming above his head as his anger grew, fuck Theon! He thought to himself, that arrogant, lying shit! After a time he sat on the end of his bed and put his head in his hands and was shocked when his hands touched his face. Looking at his hands they were covered in ice, angrily he flung his hands towards the ground and sent shards of ice into the floor around him. They flew out with such force that they wedged into the floor creating a garden of spiky icicles around his feet.

Jon shut out the world including his favourite sister Arya who came knocking a short time later, she knocked and pleaded with him to open the door. She even tried threatening him which just made Jon smile, but he was fixed he would open the door for nobody. Jon heard Arya huff in frustration and slide down the door, coming to sit with a small thud in the hallway. She was silent for a long time, but he knew she was there he could see the shadow she cast under the door.

"He's just jealous you know Jon," spoke Arya after a long period of silence. "He will never be a Stark, he will never be of the North and he resents that you're a bastard and you have a better tie to us than he does. You should feel sorry for him, even if he is a prick"

Jon listened and smiled at her insult, he badly wanted to reply to Arya but the words died in his throat. He flung himself back on the bed and looked up at the ceiling, Ghost jumped on the bed and nuzzled alongside him. Jon slowly stroked the wolf's coat and mulled over what Arya had said. He'd never considered Theon to be jealous, it still seemed ridiculous to him. Jon heard a small scrape that sounded like Arya getting up to leave, he popped up his head just in time to see a gust of wind send a piece of parchment under Jon's door.

Outside Arya leaned against the door with her hand and her forehead rested on the door, she wanted desperately to throw her thin arms around her brother and tell him everything was ok. But she knew her brother, he needed his silences to figure himself out.

"I sent something under the door for you Jon," said Arya quietly, "I know you can hear me, and I know you love history just as much as me. Theon was wrong, the world is not a better place since the dragons all died. I hope my drawing cheers you up". She was met with silence, but she smiled knowing Jon heard her, slowly her hand slipped down the door as she tread down the hallways quietly making her way back to her room.

Jon heard her slip away, when he was sure she was gone he crept over to the door and picked up the parchment. Unfurling it he saw a breathtaking drawing of Balerion the black dread, Arya really had a talent for art. Recently she had gotten her realism to the point her drawings looked almost real, and this was no different. For a long time Jon stared at Balerion and the drawing stared back at him, he smiled at her gift and sat the image up next to his bed on the table. After such a heated day he grew tired as he lay in bed with Ghost snuggled into his side.

He fell into a deep sleep but still tossed and turned at the violent flashes of his dreams, they never stayed long but the emotion left behind from them was enough to startle his physical body. He was asleep but he felt the sensation of falling at great speed, all was dark, he could smell and taste smoke. A loud sound echoed all around him, the sound of leathery wings and occasionally a blood curdling screech. He had no idea what creature was making this noise, but Arya's parchment floated around him. Jon reached up and grabbed the paper coming face to face with her sketch of Balerion. The dragon came to life on the paper and snapped its great jaws, and flapping the enormous wings. As Jon watched the dragon grew bigger and bigger before it exploded off the paper and screeched loudly. The paper dragon flew all around Jon as he fell growing bigger and bigger, becoming more and more realistic. Jon tumbled through the air feeling dread in the pit of his stomach like he would fall to his death at any moment. The dragon became a blur around him, it swirled around him and underneath him, he looked down and saw it staring up at him. With a thud he fell onto its back, shocked. He heard an unusual clicking sound and felt the dragon underneath him making a sound like a purr. It's wings flapped in one great motion and flew upwards, he was no longer falling he was flying. That movement though almost unseated him and he was thrown forward, his hands grasping tightly onto the spikes that were positioned along the great dragons spine. As he watched the dragon continued to grow, it became a monstrously large beast so large he looked like a small speck riding it. Far above Jon spied a speck of light, the dragon screeched loudly and unleashed a stream of fire illuminating the way. They were flying towards a light in the middle of a violent black tornado, the wind whipped all around Jon's face as he struggled to hold on and see where they were going. He clearly felt the dragons body under his legs which gripped tightly around it. The feeling of the great beasts muscles moving underneath him and the warmth that exuded from the skin awed Jon. He looked up again and the light had grown brighter and bigger, it shone down so brightly he had to shield his eyes from it. Jon felt the enormous dragon extend its wings and in one final push broke through the light. Jon had tightly shut his eyes expecting some kind of explosion or collision, but he felt nothing, just the dragon flying underneath him. Still squinting Jon opened his eyes and saw the great dragon flying through clouds over a glittering sea. For the first time in a long time he smiled and enjoyed the feeling of the wind in his hair, watching the sea race by underneath them.

This was the only time in his life he felt any sense of freedom and belonging, he felt the blood in his body sing with joy so loudly and a euphoria he had never before experienced. He relished the moment as the dragon soared through clouds above the shining sea. From behind there came a screech, then a second. Jon looked back but saw nothing, there was another screech which made him squint again searching the clouds for company. The dragon beneath him returned, a loud terrible screech which masked the sound of the approaching dragons. Jon heard the wings when the dragon finished the call, they were being chased. Ducking down close he grasped the spike and continued looking for their assailants but the clouds swirled stopping him seeing them. A whoosh sent a cloud up from underneath them and Jon looked down just in time to see the shadow of another dragon. He looked up again and saw another silhouette of a dragon, which screeched as he watched. Suddenly Jon's dragon flew up through the clouds and emerged to come face to face with three other dragons, all who had riders. Jon's dragon swirled around the others and they followed suit, he caught glimpses of the riders. Three women rode the dragons, one with silver flecked hair, one with silver hair and one with dark hair.

In his mind he heard a woman's voice, "Take him North Ned, raise him at Winterfell..."

The voice was interrupted by a dragon flying close alongside Jon, he clearly saw the rider she was older than Jon. Her silver hair streamed behind her, her skin was golden and her eyes were purple flecked with amber. The other rider swooped over Jon and flanked him on the right, she was younger closer to his age and her hair was speckled with silver and dark brown. Her eyes were different to the others, they were bright and shining purple. Something struck inside Jon as he flew flanked by these girls in his dreams, where was the other rider. Suddenly the other riders dragon rolled over the top of them, Jon looked up and shielded his eyes from the sun and caught a glimpse of the rider. She was older than them all, and her eyes were grey, shining grey.

As soon as the connection with the woman was made, the dragon Jon rode spun abruptly and dived spinning through the clouds. Jon held on and prayed to any God listening not to fall, his stomach lurched and he felt sick. Instantly the terrain changed, the sea beneath them was now a sea of snow and Jon breathed clouds of air as the dragon flew. Snow fell all around them, Jon looked for the dragons he had just flown with and the girls with the purple eyes, but they were gone. Instead mountains rose out of the mist and under the mountain, Jon leaned forward to make sure his eyes weren't fooling him, an enormous Weirwood tree rose. The dragon spread its wings and circled around the tree several times, and Jon looked on unsure why he was seeing this tree. He looked to the dragon and it was looking back at Jon as it flew around the tree, it continued to circle and screeched just once. Jon looked down, and committed the tree to memory just as the dragon soared away screeching loud and terrible. Jon saw the effects of the dragons screech as snow tumbled down from the mountains. He was so fascinated with the snow falling he almost missed the spear as it flew past them. But he saw it in time and ducked, watching it sail over them. Looking down Jon saw a lone figure standing in the snow looking up at them, blue eyes shining. Jon knew the tales just like everyone in the North, but he didn't believe them. The dragon circled around as Jon watched the figure reach behind its back and hurl another spear towards them. The dragon dropped down and Jon reached up high, as the ice spear hurtled towards them Jon focused and as it flew right at him, he caught the spear. The ice burned his hand all the way up his arm, but he immediately sent ice magic down to stop the burn.

Fury bubbled within Jon as the dragon screeched and flew lower, cruising on the wind current and heading straight toward the Night King. Jon still held the ice spear and the Night King had an unreadable look on his face. When Jon and the dragon got close to the Night King, he hurled the spear back at him along with his own shards of ice. As it made its way to the Night King Jon swung his arm down as the dragon turned away and the ice spear shattered into a million pieces and rained down over the Night King.

As Jon looked back he caught the Night King expression, he had caught his interest and something in Jon told him that was not a good thing. The dragon burst through the cloud again and screeched heading back towards the sun, Jon shielded his face again from the brightness. Which meant he wasn't prepared for the stomach dropping drop the dragon suddenly performed, unable to contain himself Jon cried out in terror as the dragon swirled towards the sea. Before he knew it he was surrounded by black again and felt like he was falling. He fell and fell for what felt like an eternity before he opened his eyes in his bed and took in a loud audible breath. Sitting up in bed he looked around frantically, where he had been moments ago falling now he was safe in bed. Ghost looked up at him and whined, giving a reassuring lick on the hand. Jon's breaths heaved in his chest and his heart raced, what just happened to him?

After everything he saw in that dream he couldn't shake them though, their silver hair and purple eyes as they stared at him flying beside them.

Not real, he told himself, they're not real it was just a dream. He settled back in bed and tried to sleep, but every time he closed his eyes he saw them on their dragons and couldn't help but think about them.

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Arya couldn't sleep, she sat in the window of her room and looked across the Godswood at the trees swaying gently on the breeze. The moon rose high above and shone brightly in the sky, in the distance wolves howled and Arya smiled again. It comforted her knowing they were out there, protecting her and their people. Nymeria stretched along the floor under the windowsill seemingly asleep but her ears remained pricked, she was listening too.

Arya mulled over the conflict between Jon and Theon and the events of the night, those two would never have a care for each other. Theon had always treated Jon with disdain and disgust, while Jon had simply ignored Theon. It didn't surprise Arya that this outburst had occurred, it had been brewing for years and the only mediator, Robb, wasn't present for it to calm it down. Arya sighed and looked up at the sky, a movement in the dark of night caught her attention, a raven flew from the rookery. It was late, who would be sending messages at this time? Maester Lewin always retired to bed early and her mother would wait, something in the pit of her stomach warned of danger. The breeze blew stronger and the raven used it to begin ascending higher into the air, Arya held out her hand and twisted her wrist causing a second gust of wind. As the raven climbed higher the scroll attached to its leg lodged free and floated down to Arya's hand. Heart beating wildly in her stomach, Arya unrolled the scroll and read it several times. Without a thought she stashed it in her pocket and grabbed her sword belt, Nymeria stood and lazily stretched as Arya ran from the room padding after her a short time later.

Arya quickly and quietly slipped through the dark halls, she pulled the parchment from her pocket and ran it under her nose. The air sucked into her nostrils and she saw a flash of the sender, she caught their scent. Rolling the note up again and stashing it away Arya breathed deeply and took off down a blackened hallway. The hunt was on.

Robb sleepily rose at the knock on his door, feeling groggy and rubbing his eyes he opened his door a fraction.

"Sansa?" he asked in confusion.

His sister grasped his hand hard and pulled him from his room, "Robb you need to see this"

Leading the way with a lantern Robb and Sansa scurried through darkened hallways periodically lit with a lantern on the wall. The castle was quiet, too quiet in fact. All the servants who worked at night seemed to be gone, Robb noticed nobody crossed their path and thought it strange. Sansa heaved open the door to the crypts and ushered Robb inside shutting the heavy door behind them.

"Will you tell me what this is about? Taking me to the crypts at night?"

"Just follow me Robb, it's important" whispered Sansa as she passed him a torch which burned brightly. Reluctantly Robb took the torch wanting desperately to return to bed but following his sister all the same. Their footsteps echoed eerily as they descended deep into the crypt. Robb had never been game to venture this far and he began to question why his sister was bringing him down this far. He followed her, noting the shadows their forms cast on the walls and on the statues of their long dead ancestors. The air this far down was cold and somewhere there was the sound of dripping water, ahead there was another torch and some figures coming out of the darkness. Robb squinted to get a better look, one appeared to be on the ground, which confused Robb further.

Holding the torch out in front the familiar faces of Jon and Arya became illuminated, Robb looked at the third figure and was even more confused. A young server boy was on his knees, hands bound, face bruised and bleeding. Arya stood over him with a scroll in her left hand and her right fist smeared lightly in blood.

"What is this?" demanded Robb.

Arya and Jon looked at him and Arya smiled slightly and spoke, "We have a spy here Robb"

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They all kept the secret of the traitor, it would do no one good to make it known spies were in their home. Ned would return and he would know what to do, in the meantime life must continue as normal.

Jon and Robb were schooled daily in all aspects of ruling, customs of Westerosi regions, Houses, their words, their history, the list went on and on. Theon joined them only for history lessons. Jon hated lessons, Robb did too but he persevered because he knew one day he would rule the North. Theon listened but took nothing seriously and consistently scored low in his grades. Jon on the other hand saw no use for any of this even with high grades, he would never be ruler of anything why did he have to take these useless classes? He often blew off steam to Robb and complained about wasting his life and time on this knowledge.

Robb would always shrug and say, "Talk to Father"

Jon had tried that in the past and it had been a waste of time, Ned had simply smiled and said, "You may not rule the North but you may be an advisor to your brother who does, knowledge is the minds greatest weapon. You need to know this Jon and I'll not hear another word of it, I want all my children to be prepared for everything this world throws at them. And you are one of my children, I care deeply for you all. This world is harsh and unforgiving, unless you have some power, and knowledge, not just the ability to fight gives you that"

Over time Jon grew sullen and sulky when classes were on, and today was one of those days. Mornings were Jon's favourite, coming together with his family as one, prayer and feeling the magic sing in his veins in the Godswood. And then classes, with a boring teacher droning on about things he couldn't care less about. All of these thoughts swirled in Jon's mind as he sullenly left his lessons and trudged to the Godswood to try and blow off steam and be alone to contemplate recent events by the pool under the weirwood tree. For the longest time he glared into the black glassy surface of the pond, his reflection glaring moodily back at him. He felt so much emotion at one point he looked down at his hands and icicles were forming along his fingers. Jon began to play with the skill he saw lay within. He practiced growing and shrinking the ice, he formed balls of ice and flung them into the pond causing great splashing noises and violent ripples across the usually serene surface. When the ripples settled his sullen face returned, an idea crept into his mind. He held his hand out to the pond and directed the ice again, but this time he imagined spikes, arrows and swords. To Jon's amazement several sharp arrow shaped ice shards shot from his hand into the pond, his mouth gaped open and he looked with wonder at his hands. It was just like in his dream, he had no idea he was capable of this when his eyes were open. He had done it the other night when he was angry but now he was consciously able to do it, he did it again and again.

He was so caught up in what he was practicing he didn't realise he had company, a rustle of footsteps sounded behind him startling Jon and sending ice shards shooting into the ground around him. Causing him to jump to his feet in shock, looking at who was approaching he saw it was his Fathers wife, Catelyn.

She sheepishly approached with a wry smile, "You've made an important discovery there young man"

Again Jon looked to his hands and then clasped them awkwardly behind his back, clearing his throat he spoke " Apologies my Lady, am I disturbing your prayers?"

Catelyn shook her head and came to stand a few feet away from Jon regarding him sadly, "No my boy you aren't disturbing me it seems I am disturbing you"

Unsure of how to respond Jon simply looked to the ground awkwardly unsure of what to say, he never really knew how to address Catelyn. Or form a relationship with her, he always felt some guilt that he was getting close to her when he didn't know who his mother was. And he just felt confused about it all especially after his outburst at dinner recently. Sensing his trepidation Catelyn stepped closer and sat amongst the weirwood roots wrapping her arms around her legs and gazing across the rippling pond under the tree.

"I've struggled for a long time Jon with how to grow closer to you, you've lived alongside me your whole life as your fathers son and despite my best attempts I feel we have never bridged that gap between us"

Awkwardly Jon sat and glanced at her, he was surprised to see what he thought was genuine sadness etched on her face.

"I am partly to blame," he started, "I didn't want to grow close to you, I heard the whispers of...the past," he said with some difficulty which caused a look of shock and shame on her face. Clearly the memory was painful for her, and that pleased Jon somewhat because it was a monstrous act.

"Before I surrendered to the Old Gods and truly found my way I was bitter, jealous and deeply unhappy. It's no excuse," she said firmly, "for what happened, I know. And you have every right to never forgive me, but Jon," she turned to look at him with pleading eyes, "I do love you as my own. I long to hold you close and give you everything I know you're longing for. If only you'd let me..."

Her voice trailed off and she looked down at her hands on the roots of the tree struggling where to go with this next. Jon had no words, he was simply surprised to hear these words come from her mouth. She had given him no reason to feel outcast, had never treated him with disdain that he could remember but still he felt that regardless.

"I don't belong here," he said bluntly, "I don't belong in classes with Robb, I will never rule so what's the point of it all? I just want to be free, to be me. You've never given me a reason to feel anything other than wanted, but I still feel out of place here. Father refuses to tell me about my mother, so I always wonder if I should've been left with her. The only thing I know is father took me from her, and I can't help but think maybe I should've stayed?"

Catelyn gazed at Jon expressing himself sadly and looked down again as if in defeat, quietly she took something from her gown and edged closer to Jon.

"Your Father will speak to you of your Mother soon. I think you're ready to know but that choice sits squarely with your father. In the meantime, I wanted you to have this"

She held out a dainty silver necklace in her hand, Jon looked confused.

"What is it?" he asked doubtfully.

Catelyn cleared her throat and spoke with some difficulty, "It was your mother's"

Jon's eyebrows raised in surprise, his mother's? He edged closer out of interest and examined it. It was a thick silver chain with a ring which had a large blue diamond fixed upon it. There was no name engraved on the ring or other identifying detail.

"Why are you giving me this now?" he questioned suspiciously.

"Because I can see you struggle with who you are and where you fit in the world. I'd hope that by passing this on to you it might help to calm this until you have that conversation with your father"

Jon gently took the necklace and looked it over in detail, his elusive mother who he had longed to know about all his life. At first touch of the necklace Jon felt a chill descend down his spine, he held something tangible of a person he had longed all his life to know. Here was a link to her, some piece of her he could carry. He was grateful to Catelyn and flashed a small smile, "Thank you Catelyn"

She smiled in return and returned to gazing at the pool while Jon examined the necklace further, "Did you know her?" he questioned suddenly and immediately felt embarrassed.

Catelyn shook her head without looking away from the pool, "No," she said quietly, "I did not know her"

Catelyn stared at the pool and inside her heart broke for Jon, how she desperately wanted him to know the truth of the situation. She also hated lying to him, she did know Lyanna but not well, she had arrived at the castle mere days before she went missing. Catelyn agreed her husbands stance was the right one, and her guidance from her prayers confirmed it also. Jon could not know his mother's identity at this point in time, not with Robert on the throne. Despite this it didn't ease the guilt Catelyn felt, as she sat under the weirwood she heard the loud caw of a raven and looked up in time to see a large raven carrying a scroll flying up to the rookery. Dark news, dark wings she heard in her mind, she abruptly excused herself from Jon's company to seek out the news the raven brought.

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"Well this is a rather peculiar castle I must say," spoke Olenna Tyrell with a tone verging on sarcastic looking around at the murals of mermaids and underwater scenes glittering around the small group.

Oberyn Martell watched her, amused while Tyrion Lannister looked preoccupied with emptying his goblet. Ned sat at the head of the table and patiently waited for Lady Olenna to resume her seating. She did, after taking an abnormally long amount of time to conclude her examination of the castle walls of White Harbour.

"Lord Manderly has been kind enough to allow me to hold this meeting discreetly" spoke Ned choosing his words carefully.

"I'm rather curious as to why this meeting has the need of discretion" interjected Tyrion with mock curiosity.

All eyes turned to Ned with varying expressions of interest, Oberyn maintained an expression of amused interest while Tyrion looked on with curiosity and Olennas face remained unreadable.

"I will be the first of my line to seek allies outside of the North for trade and support in times of need which I fear may be coming to my House"

"What are you talking about boy?" questioned Olenna with scorn. "Your people always were so serious, stop speaking in riddles. What do you want from us?"

"An alliance," replied Ned simply. "I want to send some of my children as wards, and in times of need your support and of course this happens in return"

A quiet set over the group as each pondered the request.

"I want to know what benefit having your children as wards will bring our Houses," drawled Oberyn swirling his goblet, "I do not see how children have more worth than trading"

Again all eyes turned to Ned, he glanced down at his direwolf Lyarra she remained very still, Ned slowly stood and laid his hands on the table. For the longest time nothing happened, causing the guests to exchange charged looks of incredulity and scorn. Suddenly ice crept from Neds hands across the table, freezing everything in its path, snow fell from the ceiling, Ned held out a hand and the snow came to his command. It swirled on the palm of his hand and formed the shape of a sword of frozen ice, he grasped his second hand along the hilt holding it across his face horizontal to the ground. The ice solidified to metal and the light reflected across the sword with a seductive glint. Oberyn leaned forward his mouth open in wonder, Tyrion looked obviously surprised while Olenna appeared unimpressed. Slowly the snow ceased and the ice retracted away to nothing presumably at Neds command. He laid the sword down on the table and Oberyn leapt forward and grasped it, looking over it in fine detail and swinging it around as if he meant to strike at any moment. He whistled as he again looked it over, he looked to Ned his eyes shining brightly.

"Your children share the same skills Lord Stark?"

"They all possess different skills, but skills nonetheless"

"I don't see how ice magic will help us in the Reach Lord Stark, so we will politely decline-" snapped Olenna, slowly she began to stand.

"My daughter Sansa works earth magic Lady Tyrell, the birds, butterflies, bees and other animals come to her call. The crops in Winterfells greenhouses have tripled their yields since Sansa has begun using her talents there. Am I right in what I've heard that your yields have been decreasing in the previous years crops?"

Olenna scrutinised Ned with an analytical gaze before slowly sitting but saying nothing. Ned turned to Tyrion, "My son Robb, has a keen mind for battle and leadership his knowledge of the Houses is nothing short of amazing. I know your Father regards this knowledge as valuable..."

"My Father is a rather hard man to please Lord Stark, you know. I believe you've met?"

Ned swallowed and replied stiffly, "It's obviously common knowledge your Father and I do not share similar ideologies," Ned removed a sword from under the table and placed it between himself and Tyrion. "Hard to please? The whole realm knows his nature so I will gift you this sword instead of words, please take note of it"

Ned invited Tyrion to pick up the blade, which he did regarding it with skepticism. He picked it up with difficulty and looked along the blade, and examined the hilt. It resembled Valyrian steel but with a golden tinge to it.

"This is a very convincing replica of Valyrian Steel Lord Stark and I can assure you we are flattered by your offer but we-"

"My son Robb crafted that blade, and forged it with the fire he can produce himself, from magic. His abilities extend beyond that, he can produce fire, melt metals and create artifacts. It's amazing to watch him wield the flame, it comes to his hand as if it's an old friend. As you can see, this weapon bears the Lion of your family he made it as a gift of peace to be presented to your Father. Take it to him and send word of his answer, I do not expect you to decide on his behalf"

Speechless Tyrion again picked up the blade and looked it over once again and a small smile escaped his lips, Ned swore he heard the Imp mutter 'marvellous'.

"You have other children," said Olenna abruptly, "where are you sending them and what can they do?"

"At this stage only Robb, Sansa and Arya will be wards. Bran is too young and Rickon as well"

"What of your bastard?" Cut in Tyrion still examining the hilt of the blade, not looking up.

Ned cleared his throat before speaking, "He has chosen to remain in the North"

Oberyn raised an eyebrow, "We do not discriminate against bastards in Dorne nor do we promote the practice in the Houses of our allies" he spoke with a dangerous edge.

"I can assure you Oberyn, he is not discriminated against. Jon will be given the same opportunities as his siblings. He's chosen to go to the Nights Watch"

Oberyn spat out his wine, and Tyrion sharply looked up, Olenna covered her mouth in shock.

"How is that the same opportunity as his siblings?" asked Tyrion in outright anger.

Ned looked uncomfortable, "I gave him the choice and he chose to go North, he has a rather strong talent with Ice. Going South is something he flat out refused"

"I hope you know what you're doing Lord Stark," spoke Olenna reproachfully, "because it doesn't seem this you have thought through to its conclusion very well"

"Thank you for your observation Lady Olenna but the decision is final," said Ned firmly, Olenna nodded once and sat back.

"Very well," she said slowly, "we will take your Sansa. When will she arrive?"

"Before the new moon rises" replied Ned, "I will send my children and trust their safety and care to your Houses"

Oberyn nodded, "We accept your offer"

Tyrion emptied his third goblet, "My Father will send word"

Ned nodded, he was pleased this was the outcome he had hoped for. A knock sounded at the door and a Manderly servant entered holding a scroll. Ned read it and stood abruptly, "Thank you for coming I look forward to our Houses growing in peace, and strength. If you excuse me I must return at once to Winterfell"

Oberyn and Tyrion nodded and regarded each other before taking leave, Olenna lingered.

"It's rather interesting that the closest friend and ally of the King is seeking to grow his allies outside of the North and it seems outside of the Kings knowledge. This could be seen as an act of Treason Lord Stark"

Ned matched her gaze and replied, "It's not treason to have the right friends is it Lady Olenna?"

She scrutinised his face once more, "It's been rather interesting Lord Stark I never picked you to be particularly smart or interesting. You have surprised me. If your girl does what you claim our alliance will indeed be prosperous"

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The island of Naath was merely a blurry mass in the distance on the horizon, the captain smiled terribly when he spotted it in the distance. His hardened face scarred, skin browned from being on the water all his life, hands were rough and calloused after years of sailing. It had been a long time since he had paid a visit to Naath, and his gold had started to dry up, he had no good slaves to trade. It was time to pay his favourite island a visit, he enjoyed hearing the screams and the begging, oh the begging was the sweetest. The captain didn't speak the Naathi tongue but he knew begging when he saw it, mothers screaming for their children, men being beaten down and defeated. All for that sweet taste of gold, he loved hearing the tinkling of his hands running through a sack of gold. And to get that he had to hear the begging first, it would come and he would relish every second because that sound meant money. Money he could take to his favourite whore and pay for a portion of her time, or the fine wines he relished on his tongue that he could taste from memory. The fine life is what he liked to live when he was on land and to get that he peddled in misery of those too weak to fight him. He looked up and saw clouds hanging low in the sky, even better if it rained. Would give him a cover to sneak up on them, less chance of them escaping into hiding, less chance of saving the best ones from his reach. Naathi servants were sought after, and he charged a high price for them. Their peaceful nature made them amenable to any task, no matter how dirty or humiliating. Powerful men enjoyed the girls, and the military liked the boys, he always had customers wanting more and today he would fill his stash with gold. As the island approached night had fallen, the island was darkened but the village was lit by firelight. The boats docked adjacent to shore and silently men slid into the water and quietly waded ashore, careful not to alert their presence. Once enough were ashore they tore through the village, knives out ready to cut down any who stood in their way. Flames flickered in the torches as their shadows flitted between buildings seeking their weak prey. Several minutes passed and the captain didn't hear any screams coming from the village, he leaned forward in an attempt to hear better, squinting to see if the shapes he saw moving around were his men or frantic slaves. Several more minutes passed, still nothing. He snarled in frustration, he will have what he came for and they will not evade his reach.

"Get the boat, I'm going ashore" he spoke roughly to his nearest sailor who turned to prepare his boat.

The young sailor frantically wound the boat into the water, it creaked loudly as it slowly lowered the boat into the water. With a small splash the boat landed on the water surface and the young sailor began trying to remove the ropes. Impatiently the captain shoved the man aside, "Get out of my way boy! These slaves won't catch themselves!" Climbing nimbly down in the small boat several of his closest followed, the captain signalled and they began to row towards the shoreline. Rhythmically his crew rowed towards the beach, the boats remaining behind them, silent and mostly empty. The splash of the oars the only sound across the bay aside from his men's shouts as they scoured the terrain for hidden Naathi. All was dark, all was quiet, which was strange.

The captain scanned the shore convinced his next slaves would be found soon, glancing across the island he noticed lights he had never seen before. High up on the island, what looked like on the mountain. Smiling maliciously he pointed, and his crew members followed his finger.

"They always try lads, but they'll never escape me", he laughed terribly as did his men. Yet within moments their laughter died down as a terrible crashing echoed across the valley. And the lights they thought were slaves moved in the darkness, a loud rustling noise whooshed above them. Slowly the dim light from the fires in the village illuminated an enormous black dragon hovering above the village. A low vicious rumble grew in the enormous beasts throat, the captain stepped back in shock. A dragon? Surely it can't be?

The men on shore screamed and scrambled, and the dragon responded with fire burning alive the men who ran toward the shore attempting to escape. Then turning its attention to the ones directly underneath, with a loud screech the dragon landed on the ground crushing half a dozen under its enormous claws. Several stopped to look up at the huge beast towering over them, the last thing they saw was the fire growing in its throat. They received such a powerful blast of dragon fire they disintegrated into dust which blew away on the wind.

The captain watched in horror as his entire crew were destroyed within moments, his men were frozen on the boat watching in horror. Frantically he leaned forward and slapped one of the men back to reality, "The ships! Get us back to the ships!"

For the moment the black dragon was feasting on the blackened corpses that lay throughout the village. Several structures were alight from the dragon fire, and yet still none of the Naathi appeared. The crew rowed as fast as they could back to their boat and clambered over one another. Some were thrown into the swirling sea in the frenzy, unable to climb back into the ship they cried out, pleaded for help. Several clambered back into the boat they rowed on and climbed again, the captain shoved men out of his way and climbed swiftly aboard. He heard the thumping of men jumping on the deck as he climbed, finally reaching the top he climbed over on the deck and fell on his back. Relieved, he rolled and stood ready to issue orders.

He looked around in shock, the bodies of every man who stood by him on his voyages lay around the deck. Their blood spilled in large pools, some had throats cut, others had arrows sticking out from their eyes and necks. Whoever had attacked them was swift, and quiet. He looked around for their attackers, drawing his dagger and clicking his tongue in annoyance. They were good men, hard men, you can't find men like that anymore. A gust of wind blew and a rustle sounded above him. The boat rocked violently as another dragon had wrapped around the mast and glared down at the captain. Riding the beast was a woman, a young woman of incredible beauty, silver hair cascaded down her back and her purple eyes shone. Shocked at her appearance the captains mouth gaped open transfixed, he raised his hand meaning to flick his dagger into her pretty neck. Before he had a chance to do so he heard the creak of a bow and the arrow burst through his throat. Blood spluttered and gurgled from the hole in his neck, he fell to his knees as he struggled to breathe. The silver haired woman leapt from the dragon onto the deck and her footsteps rang loudly in his head echoing through the halls of his mind. She knelt in front of him and with a victorious smile wrenched the dagger from his hand.

"You'll be the last slaver to visit Naath" spoke her silvery voice with authority and conviction as she whipped her hand in a quick motion and wedged the dagger firmly into the other side of the captains neck. His body fell lifeless to the deck of his boat which he had travelled the known and unknown world with reaping treasure and enslaving everywhere he went. Blood poured from the two gashes that opened up in his neck as his eyes remained open and wide, but devoid of life. The cries of dying men rang through the night accompanied by the glorious screech of dragons, their rustling wings and the roar of dragon fire.