DISCLAIMER: Chapter one.
Chapter rating: M
NicoleR85: I'm glad you liked the change! I hope to change a bit more.
Shadow Wolf 15846: Hope you like the next one!
The Blue Insanity 8500: I hope you like what I put out~ And whatever Drogo could want.
DirtyCat: Thanks for the review! I hope you like what I put out, and yeah I was going to have them grow faster in this story.
recey2010: I'm glad you liked that!
Chapter Eight: Surprises
(Daenerys)
Dany smiled reading the latest letter from her sister. As the tent flaps moved, she greeted her husband who noticed the parchment in her hand. "Jalan atthirar anni," he greeted with a kiss to her head. They had been riding for days, and Dany had been getting closer to Drogo who had taken more interest in her letters when they were given to her. Viserys tried to get to them first before they were given to his sister but Ser Jorah had been told by Dany to just give her the parchments. Her brother still raged about how he would marry his sister once they reach Westeros, but Drogo did not understand because she was already married to a Khal of Westeros and if her husband were to die why would she remarry? Jorah told him of marriage in Westeros, it was like their own but instead of being sent to a special place with all the other widows, they were usually remarried for political reasons. Drogo claimed it was insulting to the former husband. Something both his wife and the knight agreed with.
"Mathchomaroon, Shekh ma shieraki anni," Dany answered. Irri was beyond proud of how well her Khalessi had spoken in fluent Dothraki, many looked at her proudly when they would hear her converse, and Rakharo spoke praises for her, to the confusion of her brother when he would overhear her. Dany would talk about her sister with many and how different the culture Rhaenyra lived in was to their own. Some found it curious while others spoke highly of their own.
"Et yeri inavva ase?" Drogo asked as he sat beside her. He was curious about her twin sister who lived in another land.
"Yes, she has wished to express her happiness at Bran's awakening," she smiled, switching to Westerosi, wich her husband was learning quickly. Viserys sneered at the boy's conscious state, claiming the Gods were caring for their enemy. Even Drogo agreed the child was innocent of his father's past. Jorah told many of the warriors what Westeros' warriors were like, how they wore armor to defend themselves, as they were not as agile or fast as the Dothraki. "Also Robb wishes to talk with you as well." Dany beamed as Drogo nodded. He saw the good in talking with another 'man of power'. From Dany's description of the Westeros map she remembered seeing as a child, the North was half of Westeros. Something Jorah confirmed as he claimed the Starks have ruled the North for centuries, even when Valyria was still full of life. Drogo thought that was a good thing, meant they were strong, especially with three boys, or four from Jorah's whisper of rumors that Ned had a bastard son among his five children. Together, they started on the letter. Dany wrote in High Valyrian.
VIII
(Rhaenyra)
Rhaenyra moaned sleepily as she felt a hand run up and down her back while a kiss was placed on her shoulder. It moved down as Robb moved to hover over his wife, he had woken up to see Grey Wind was sleeping with the hatchlings on a furred rug. He gave a small smile at seeing Rhaenys sleeping on his back and head. As she started to wake, he could easily hear small grumbles from his wife as she woke.
"Robb. I need to sleep," she whined which made her husband laugh and lay a bit more on her.
"But I need my beautiful wife," he whispered in her ear as she groaned.
"How?" she asked with a small smile as she was turned over and kissed thoroughly.
"My wife is beautiful and she asks why I would want to..." he trailed off with a grin.
"Last night was not enough?" she interrupted a tired smile on her face, making him laugh once more.
"I can never get enough of you, My Love." She groaned playfully. He smiled as she allowed him to continue kissing her skin as she tried to go back to sleep. A loud shriek made them both jump as Rhaella launched herself onto the bed shrieking at her mother who sat up when Robb got off her. "What has gotten into her?" Robb asked worriedly as the hatchling growled.
"I do not know," Rhaenyra sighed as she climbed from the furs making Robb grumble with disappointment. She plucked pieces of meat from the tin and threw them on the table as the hatchlings scrambled up their rope. Grey Wind stretched before joining them and nudged her hand wanting some, receiving his as he ate a few pieces before going to the door for Robb to let him out. "Hungry," she revealed as Rhaella snatched up most of the scorched pieces, Rhaenyra decided to lay a good pile for all three as she emptied the rest for the direwolf when he returned before going to dress as Robb sat on the bed, having put his pants and shoes on.
"What was it that you wanted to talk about, Love? We got distracted last night," he laughed.
"Oh, believe me. I know exactly how we got distracted," Rhaenyra smirked as Robb kissed her temple when he stood. "Dany told me that Drogo was going to send a letter soon, so it will be enclosed within my own. Will High Valyrian be fine?" she asked.
"Of course, almost all can't read it. Only high borns could as their maester would teach the children if it was desired." As he and his siblings could along with Theon were when Valaena taught Rhaenyra and Baela. "I have some business to attend to this morning, will you join me, after praying in the Godswood?" Robb asked as he opened the door, ready to depart.
"Of course," his wife agreed with a smile.
Rhaenyra was walking to the Godswood as Raynor stayed at the opening, Baela continued on with her as the dragons trailed after them on their own, chattering and squeaking as they did so, already they were growing as they were eating more. Maester Luwin had spent many days while he talked with the pair, educating them on how to rule, he would be examining one of the dragons. He already configured dragons grow every day, the girls' measurements are always different every few days he checked on them.
As Rhaenyra knelt down to pray, Rhaella nudged her mother in curiosity. Alysanne and Rhaenys tackled each other eagerly, enjoying the freedom of the Godswood. But Rhaella remained beside her mother, staring at the tree with interest. Purring the hatchling watched her mother pray while the others shrieked sniffing out mice that lived in the ground below. Rhaenyra prayed for the Old to defend and protect the Starks in the South even if the Gods have little sway, beg the Seven for aid in defending their children.
Baela sat nearby reading, she had no reason to pray right now, but she did give her respects to the Old Gods when she entered. She respected and thrived under the Old Gods, Ned had personally taught her his family's ways after Valaena asked if it would offend him, which he said it would not. He accepted and asked if he may teach her, the Valyrian woman was happy that he wanted to teach her and so he did. Along with the other children who wanted to learn more. Theon joined in learning about the other Gods, he even asked Valaena if she remembered anything about the Valyrian Gods, to which she denied. Most Valyrian descendants accepted the New Gods, but Rhaenyra accepted the Old, being raised under their care. Baela sighed as she looked to the letter hidden in her book that Ned had sent to Robb. He had been hesitant to tell Rhaenyra, but Ned had expressed his confusion in Jaime's defending Lady but told of his gratitude that the direwolf remained with the girls. He had commented that in Nymeria's absence, Lady had grown close to Arya as well. Robb worried how his wife would take it, Baela told him to tell her, she'd rather know than find out later. Baela hoped Ned and the girls would reach King's Landing soon.
VIII
(King's Landing)
Ned sighed as he watched Sansa and Arya walk together with Lady trailing on their heels. To Ned, it looked like Lady had grown a bit, he also noticed her withdrawn nature now. She still retained her gentle nature but now her head would lower when someone came too close. Keeping herself in between the girls and the stranger. Lady knew that the Lannisters were the reason for her owner's sadness and sister's disappearance. Ned always said the wolves were intelligent, and she proved it right when a Lannister guard approached Arya who had been retrieving her parcel and the tiny box she held to her chest. Lady had snarled and alerted the girl who turned and saw the nervous guard staring at the angry wolf as the Stark guards surrounded her.
"May I ask what you are doing?" Jory asked standing behind Lady who backed up to stand up against Arya, growling still as Sansa watched worriedly for her sister and wolf. Septa Mordane held the girl still as Ned returned from talking with his steward Poole.
"What is the meaning of this?" Ned demanded as Lady silenced herself but still bore her teeth at the man who looked to the lord in relief, thinking the man controlled the direwolf.
"The Small Council has summoned a meeting," he spoke quickly and backed away when Lady continued to growl.
"Jory," Ned started not looking at his guard who stood straighter. "Take the girls to their rooms, have Lady fed, and then join the guard outside the Council. That is where I will be," he ordered as Jory nodded and ushered Sansa closer and told her to grab Lady's lead from the guard who had retrieved it for her. Jory was the most trusted man Ned knew and would die for his girls, this the lord knew and was grateful as he knew the truth of Nymeria's disappearance.
"Would you like to change..." the guard stopped himself at the man's tired expression. "Excuse me, My Lord. Just follow me," he urged as Ned followed. He did know a few Lannister men were good, one had wished to offer his apologies to Arya for the disappearance of her wolf, knowing it was a wrong decision. Like any animal, it defended its master.
"Thank the Gods you're here Stark," Jaime spoke as he stood from where he had been sitting on the stairs. "It's about time we had some stern Northern leadership."
"You have returned before the King?" Ned thought the man would stay with the King.
"His Grace and Ser Barristan suggested I join the council, but that bores me," the knight drawled with a smirk. "But I do know your leadership will inspire others. Even if they don't say it out loud," he whispered the last part as Ned frowned.
"And you will always protect the Throne?" Ned questioned as Jaime paused, considering.
"Sturdy old thing. How many kings' arses have polished it, I wonder? What's the line? The King shits and the Hand wipes?" Jaime joked as Ned frowned with disapproval.
"Very handsome armor. Not a scratch on it," he returned examining the golden armor.
"I know. People have been swinging at me for years, but they always seem to miss," Jaime commented as he looked at the lord in the face.
"You've chosen your opponents wisely then," Ned countered as Jaime smirked.
"I have a knack for it," he stated, before starting off in a direction before turning back to Ned. "It must be strange for you coming into this room," he began. "I was standing right here when it happened. He was very brave, your brother. Your father too. They didn't deserve to die like that. Nobody deserves to die like that."
At the painful reminder of his family's losses, Ned's face tightened, and he shot the other man a swift look. "But you just stood there and watched?"
At this, Jaime took a deep breath and looked straight into Ned's grey eyes. "500 men just stood there and watched," he said gently. "All the great knights of the Seven Kingdoms...you think anyone said a word, lifted a finger? No, Lord Stark. 500 men and this room were silent as a crypt...except for the screams, of course, and the Mad King laughing. And later...when I watched the Mad King die, I remembered him laughing as your father burned. It felt like justice for your family."
"Is that what you tell yourself at night?" Ned asked harshly. "You're a servant of justice? That you were avenging my father when you shoved your sword in Aerys Targaryen's back?"
"Tell me...if I'd stabbed the Mad King in the belly instead of the back, would you admire me more?" At the look of hurt on Jaime's face, he paused and made an obvious effort to calm his temper. As the lord paused, taking a deep breath, Jaime turned to leave once more.
"Ser Jaime," he called out as the blonde paused, not expecting anything else, "I apologize for the harsh words just now, I did not mean them. All these years later, and it's like the deaths happened yesterday. I truly believe the Mad King's death was justice, but this is not what I wanted to speak to you about. I wanted to say 'thank you' on behalf of my daughter. For her direwolf, Lady." Jaime swallowed thickly thinking of Bran while defending the wolf.
"Come now, Stark. Just a girl's pet. I figured she'd be just like Myrcella when her dog went missing. She was forlorn for days," Jaime drawled with a shrug as one of the northern guards swallowed harshly, biting a retort in defending his young lady's wolf. But Ned stopped him, seeing through the facade that Jaime was trying to put up.
"I will still thank you, Ser Jaime Lannister," Ned spoke firmly as he turned with the guards following after the Lannister guard who paused, realizing the man wasn't following. Leaving the agitated man standing there watching as he sighed and walked off, seeing the direwolf walking alongside Sansa as she and Arya talked together. They seemed a bit different now, closer to his eye.
'That's good, wolves don't do well separately south of their pack,' Jaime thought as he continued out not wanting to be a part of the meeting taking place. He knew their discussion and had declined to be a part of it.
Ned entered the small council chamber where Varys, Petyr Baelish, the Gand Maester Pycelle, and Robert's brother, Renly were already awaiting him. Varys was the first to greet him.
"Lord Stark."
Ned shook Varys' hand and smiled in greeting. "Lord Varys."
"I was grievously sorry to hear of your troubles on the Kingsroad, Varys commented with a sad smile. " We are all praying for Prince Joffrey's full recovery."
"A shame you didn't say a prayer for the butcher's son," Ned returned dryly. At this reminder, Varys looked slightly put out as Ned walked past him.
"Renly! You're looking well," Ned clapped Robbert's younger brother on the back.
"And you look tired from the road," Renly returned Ned's greeting. "I told them this meeting could wait another day, but..."
"But we have a kingdom to look after," Littlefinger interrupted. "I've hoped to meet you for some time, Lord Stark. No doubt Lady Catelyn has mentioned me?" he continued slyly.
"She has, Lord Baelish. I understand you knew my brother Brandon as well?" Ned rejoined.
Littlefinger chuckled to himself. "All too well. I still carry a token of his esteem from navel to collarbone." He indicated a scar beneath his clothes.
"Perhaps you chose the wrong man to duel with," the Stark Lord commented.
"It wasn't the man that I chose, my lord. It was Catelyn Tully. A woman worth fighting for, I'm sure you'll agree?" Baelish stated.
"I humbly beg your pardon, my Lord Stark," Maester Pycelle said softly.
"Grand Maester," Ned acknowledged him.
"How many years has it been?" The Maester asked curiously. "You were a young man."
"And you served another king," Ned replied.
There was a slight pause while Pycelle stared absentmindedly at Ned. "Oh, how forgetful of me! he exclaimed, rummaging around in his robe for something. He pulled out the Hand of the King badge and handed it to Ned. "This belongs to you, now. Should we begin?"
"Without the King?" Ned asked.
"Winter may be coming, but I'm afraid the same cannot be said for my brother," Renly smirked.
"His Grace has many cares," Varys said softly. "He entrusts some small matters to us that we might lighten the load."
"We are the lords of small matters here," agreed Littlefinger.
Renly handed Ned a scroll. "My brother instructed us to stage a tournament in honor of Lord Stark's appointment as Hand of the King."
"Mmm, how much?" asked Baelish
"40,000 gold dragons to the champion, 20,000 to the runner-up, 20,000 to the winning archer..." Ned's voice trailed off in astonishment.
"Ninety thousand gold pieces," Littlefinger sighed. "And we must not neglect the other costs. Robert will want a prodigious feast. That means cooks, carpenters, serving girls, singers, jugglers, fools . . . "
Pycelle looked across at Littlefinger. "Can the treasury bear such expense?"
Littlefinger sighed gustily. "I'll have to borrow it. The Lannisters will accommodate, I expect," said Baelish. "We already owe Lord Tywin three million gold. What's another 80,000?"
Startled, Ned looked up from the scroll in his hands. "Are you telling me the Crown is three million in debt?"
"I'm telling you the Crown is six million in debt," Baelish returned dryly.
"How could you let this happen?" the Lord of Winterfell asked the table at large.
Renly laughed. "As if Robert would have listened to us if we had tried to stop him. Ned, you know how he is..."
"The Master of Coin finds the money. The King and the Hand spend it," Baelish finished.
"I will not believe Jon Arryn allowed Robert to bankrupt the Realm," Ned stated firmly.
"Lord Arryn gave wise and prudent advice, but I fear His Grace doesn't always listen," Maester Pycelle said gently.
"Counting coppers," he calls it," Renly smerked.
Ned raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. "I'll speak to him tomorrow. This tournament is an extravagance we cannot afford."
"As you will. But still, we'd best make our plans," Baelish said.
"There will be no plans until I speak to Robert!" Ned said harshly. At this, there was an uncomfortable silence. He looked around the silent table, then put his face in his hands. "Forgive me, my lords. I'm...I had a long ride."
Varys smiled sympathetically. "You are the King's Hand, Lord Stark. We serve at your pleasure."
In Joffrey's chambers, Cersei was dabbing medicine on his wound.
"Ow!" the prince complained loudly.
The queen rolled her eyes at his dramatics. "Please, it's nearly healed."
"It's ugly," he complained.
As she finished putting the medicine on and replacing the gauze, Cersei continued as if he hadn't spoken. "A king should have scars. You fought off a direwolf. You're a warrior like your father."
"I'm not like him. I didn't fight off anything. It bit me and all I did was scream. And the two Stark girls saw it, both of them," he pouted.
"That's not true," his mother assured him. You only spared the beast because of the love your father bears her father. When Aerys Targaryen sat on the Iron Throne, your father was a rebel and a traitor. Someday you'll sit on the throne and the truth will be what you make it."
"Do I have to marry her? Joffrey asked plaintively.
"Yes," his mother said sternly. At Joffrey's agitated look, she continued. "She's very beautiful and young, and if you don't like her, you only need to see her on formal occasions and when the time comes, to make little princes and princesses. And if you'd rather fuck painted whores, you'll fuck painted whores. And if you'd rather lie with noble virgins, so be it. You are my darling boy and the world will be exactly as you want it to be. Do something nice for the Stark girl."
"I don't want to..." he began but was cut off.
"No, but you will. The occasional kindness will spare you all sorts of trouble down the road."
Joffrey stood up and paced around the room. "We allow the Northerners too much power. They consider themselves our equals."
"How would you handle them?" Cersei asked curiously.
"I'd double their taxes and command them to supply 10,000 men to the royal army," Joffrey bosted.
"A royal army? she asked.
"Why should every lord command his own men? It's primitive, no better than the hill tribes. We should have a standing army of men loyal to the Crown, trained by experienced soldiers, instead of a mob of peasants who've never held pikes in their lives." the boy explained.
"And if the Northerner's rebel?" his mother continued to question.
Joffrey smerked. "I'd crush them. Seize Winterfell and install someone loyal to the Realm as Warden of the North. Uncle Kevan, maybe."
"And these 10,000 Northern troops?" she asked again, "would they fight for you or their lord?"
"For me. I'm their king."
The queen rolled her eyes. "Mmm-hmm. But you've just invaded their homeland, asked them to kill their brothers?"
"I'm not asking," Joffrey snarled.
"The North cannot be held...not by an outsider. It's too big and too wild, and when the winter comes, the Seven Gods together couldn't save you and your royal army. A good king knows when to save his strength..." Cersei explained as she stood up. "And when to destroy his enemies," she finished.
"So you agree? The Starks are enemies?" Joffrey asked his mother.
Cersei paused, then spoke firmly, thinking about the Targaryen whore she awaited the fate of. "Everyone who isn't us is an enemy."
VIII
(Winterfell)
Robb groaned as he looked over papers about the finances his mother left before a soft call from his wife came from the doorway of his father's solar. Smiling, she entered and allowed her daughters to detach from her, crawling over everything and eventually up their mother's dress to be on the desk.
"You have a letter," she warned him as he perked up. He assumed it was from his father and took it before looking at the parchment in shock, all the while keeping the hatchlings from knocking over things, namely the ink. "What?" his wife asked in worry and came around the other side to see High Valyrian. "Is that..."
"Aye, it's from Daenerys. She sent Drogo's letter," Robb spoke as he gave it to Rhaenyra who read it quickly.
"Dear Robb, I write in my husband, Khal Drogo's, stead. He wishes to send letters between you and him, Dany,'
'Robb Stark, my wife tells me you are Khal of the entire North of your land, and that is a large place. She tells me of the attack on your brother from your enemy the Lannister's. I wish to offer some advice but I must ask further questions to get more information. Do you know who pushed the boy to his fall? If not, do you know why they would do such? Even among my people, to harm a woman or child who is not a slave is a great shame, and the warrior responsible would have his braid cut off and made the lowest of my riders. How would your land deal with such? I would like to get to know you, as you are now kin to me, as my wife has explained your custom of family, so you are now the blood of my blood.
What would your wife like as a bride gift? It is custom among my people to give a wife or sister of a Khal a gift upon her marriage, and since your wife is my wife's sister, that makes her my sister as well. Perhaps a woman's whip, or arack?
I would like to know more about your customs as well in Westeros. And of the northern ways. My wife tells me that they are very different from our own here.
I close this letter now, but I expect you to write back. Khal Drogo,"
"A bride's gift?" Rhaenyra asked confusedly as Maester Luwin joined them with a few more parchments in hand as he was looking them over. "What in seven hells is that?" she questioned as her husband shrugged, curious himself.
"My Lord, My Lady?" he questioned curiously. He noticed their attentive attention to the parchment.
"Khal Drogo has decided to write to me and here is his first letter." Robb passed it over to his healer who read it.
"Well, this is a part of their custom, maybe he wishes to embrace you and welcome you to his family," Maester Luwin explained as Rhaenyra nodded while her dragons were climbing up and leaping off the desk, trying to glide as Grey Wind watched them.
"I would choose the whip, if I have a choice," Rhaenyra joked as Robb chuckled. Maester Luwin smirked as he read the letter.
"It seems as though he wishes to counsel you," Maester Luwin explained as he understood. Daenerys must have told him the history of the Lannisters and from what Rhaenyra sent her sister in her letters the young girl knew of the fight between Starks and Lannisters. "It would be a wise choice, his knowledge of this type of situation would be ideal," Maester Luwin advised as Robb nodded. "These are papers you needed to look at," he spoke, showing the stack in his hands as Rhaenyra took them.
"We'll look at them, thank you Maester Luwin," she smiled as he left. "This will be interesting," Rhaenyra commented as she sat at a second chair in the solar.
"Yes. So you would choose the whip?" he asked picking up a blank parchment and a quill.
"Yes," she agreed.
"Didn't your ancestors use them on dragons while riding them?" Robb asked as she shrugged.
"I guess, I am not sure," she answered reading a letter as her husband paused.
"Rhae. I need to tell you something about what happened in King's Landing." Robb hated himself for not telling her sooner as she gave a sad smile.
"I know, Robb." She showed a folded letter from a book she carried. "Sansa sent me a letter, she told me that Nymeria had been driven off when she attacked Joffrey," Rhaenyra told him as he sighed with relief.
"I'm sorry, I should have told you sooner," he said as she hummed while watching her dragons climb up and down Grey Wind who pawed one when they'd chew on his foot.
"It is better than Lady being killed in her sister's stead. What I am surprised at is Jaime protecting the direwolf, Sansa said that the King almost agreed but stopped when Jaime spoke up in her defense," Rhaenyra commented as Robb agreed.
"Aye, Father told me the same. He was curious about what Jaime was wanting. As he said a Lannister always wants something," Robb commented as he started to write his letter.
VIII
(The Wall)
In the armory of Castle Black, Jon and Rast were putting away equipment. Grenn and Pyp suddenly entered. Grenn still had blood on his face from when Jon broke his nose.
"You broke my nose, bastard!" Grenn snarled furiously.
Jon turned to face him. "It's an improvement," he said with a smirk.
Grenn screamed as he charged at Jon with a knife in his hand as Rast held his arms behind his back. "If we threw you over the Wall, wonder how long it'd take you to hit?"
"I wonder if they'd find you before the wolves did," Pyp sniggered.
At that moment, Tyrion entered the armory, and Grenn turned to look at him. "What're you looking at, half-man?" he asked sourly.
Tyrion cocked his head to one side, considering, then spoke. "I'm looking at you. You've got an interesting face. Hmmm...very distinctive faces. All of you."
"What do you care about our faces?" Rast asked nervously.
Tyrion grinned up at him. "It's just I think they would look marvelous decorating spikes in King's Landing. Perhaps I'll write to my sister, the Queen, about it."
At that suttle threat, both Pyp and Rast left, with Grenn following, tossing the last remark over his shoulder. "We'll talk later, Lord Snow."
Jon looked down at Tyrion with a scowl of disgust. "Everybody knew what this place was and no one told me. No one but you. My father knew and left me to rot here at the Wall all the same."
Tyrion merely blinked at him. "Grenn's father left him too...outside a farmhouse when he was three. Pyp was caught stealing a wheel of cheese; his little sister hadn't eaten in three days. He was given a choice: his right hand or the Wall. I've been asking the Lord Commander about them. Fascinating stories."
"They hate me because I'm better than they are!" Jon sighed.
"It's a lucky thing none of them were trained by a master-at-arms like your Ser Rodrik," Tyrion agreed. "I don't imagine any of them have ever held a real sword before they came here," he added looking thoughtfully over at Grenn and Pyp. "Oh..." he said, remembering something. He handed Jon the same scroll that Lord Commander Mormont gave him earlier. "Your brother Bran. He's woken up." Tyrion told Jon as he walked off, going into the mess hall where Yoren sat drinking as he joined.
"My Lord," Yoren greeted as he poured a cup of wine for him.
"So, you're heading down to King's Landing too?" Tyrion asked as Yoren nodded.
"Aye. Day after tomorrow. I get about half of my recruits from their dungeons," Yoren shrugged before admitting with a smile. "Northerners don't have many to offer, most lords take care of the job themselves." Yoren's comment made Tyrion wince as he reminded himself. Even if they claim the Wall, some lords will still carry out their executions.
"Then let's share the road. I could use some decent company," Tyrion urged as Yoren chuckled.
"I, uh… I travel a bit on the grubby side, My Lord," Yoren admitted with a small smile.
"Not this time. We'll be staying at the finest inns and castles. No one turns away a Lannister," Tyrion bragged as Yoren swallowed, the North wasn't as welcoming to Southern families as most unless the king were among them.
Tyrion sighed as he came to the maester's tower where the ravens were cawing loudly. Jon was sitting with Maester Aemon and talking before Jon stopped and told the maester who came in as the old man cleared his throat.
"Welcome, Lord Tyrion. I hear you will be leaving us soon," the old man spoke as the dwarf approached.
"Yes, I will be. I've spent enough time here I think," Tyrion said with a smile. Even the old man who had given Jon a message had a stack of books for the man who would accompany the dwarf through Winterfell.
"Yoren, if you could please deliver these to my niece on your way back to King's Landing?" Aemon requested as Tyrion perked up.
"May I ask?" he inquired as Jon smirked.
"They're no doubt books and scrolls for the young lady," Yoren spoke up, it was not that uncommon for him to stop in Winterfell for the night and would deliver things to and from the Targaryen duo. "Young lady is a bookworm," he explained with a full-bellied laugh as her uncle shared the amusement and mirth the man held. The men of the Night's Watch who knew the young Targaryen girl knew how intelligent she was, she started to learn how to use knives. Ned had been a tad nervous about her going to a place where the men that filled the Watch were mostly thieves, rapers, and murderers. No place for a young girl who was to be the future Lady Stark of Winterfell. But it was because she was to be the future lady of the North that Jeor Mormont had his most loyal man help Raynor in protecting the young girl who was adored by many. She had spent most of her days following her uncle around like a little bird until she grew old enough to train. And even then the men were seasoned, gentler to her rather than the harsher men.
"From the multiple times I have seen her in the library or a maid of hers had a stack of books for her I agree," Tyrion commented as Jon nodded.
"Father always had her stay with Maester Luwin during our childhood, it kept her safe when she wasn't with us lads. She mostly spent her free time reading history books," Jon explained as Tyrion nodded gathering a few of the scrolls Yoren was meant to deliver.
"If they're history, I'd like to read them," Tyrion requested as he looked at the title of some books while Yoren offered to take the scrolls once he situated the tomes.
"You may if you wish, Lord Tyrion," Maester Aemon replied, a tone in his voice that Jon noticed as did Yoren who looked to the old man quickly, even though he could not see it.
"There will be a light summer shower soon," Jeor commented as Jon nodded.
"Would it be best they leave at first light, Lord Commander?" the steward asked as the older man nodded.
"Aye, Snow. I agree with him on that much. Get as much rest as you can and gain as much distance as you can to Winterfell before the summer snows set in," the commander instructed as Yoren nodded.
"I know what roads to take, Lord Commander," the traveler assured him, knowing the best route to Winterfell.
"How many winters have you seen, Lord Tyrion?" Maester Aemon asked curiously.
"Eight. No, nine," he replied.
"All of them brief?" the Maester asked.
"They say the winter of my birth was three years long, Maester Aemon," Tyrion drawled.
"This summer has lasted nine," the old man commented slowly. " But reports from the Citadel tell us the days grow shorter. The Starks are always right eventually: winter is coming. This one will be long, and dark things will come with it," he finished.
"We've been capturing wildlings, more every month. They're fleeing south. The ones who flee say they've seen the White Walkers," Commander Mormont noted.
Tyrion looked around the faces disbelievingly. "Yes, and the fishermen of Lannisport say they see mermaids."
"One of our own rangers swore he saw them kill his companions. He swore it right up to the moment Ned Stark chopped his head off," Mormont growled back.
Maester Aemon rubbed his face sadly. "The Night's Watch is the only thing standing between the realm and what lies beyond. And it has become an army of undisciplined boys and tired old men. There are less than a thousand of us now. We can't man the other castles on the Wall. We can't properly patrol the wilderness. We've barely enough resources to keep our lads armed and fed."
Mormont looked at Tyrion with a hint of desperation. "Your sister sits by the side of the King. Tell her we need help."
"When winter does come, Gods help us all if we're not ready," the old man whispered.
"Safe travels to you all," Jeor Mormont urged as the men nodded and began their travel back South.
"I might read some of those books," Tyrion commented as he walked out with Yoren who nodded.
"Of course, My Lord," Yoren agreed. He knew better than to let a Lannister read certain books he carried, those he'd hide in his packs, along with the scrolls.
VIII
(King's Landing)
Arya, Sansa, and Septa Mordane were all sitting down for dinner. Arua was repeatedly stabbing the table with a knife.
"Enough of that, young lady. Eat your food," Septa Mordane scolded.
"I'm practicing," the girl said angrily.
"Practicing for what?" Sansa asked curiously.
"The Prince," she scowled. At this, Sansa looked at Arya, alarmed. "He's a liar and a coward! And he killed my friend!"
"The Hound killed your friend...," Sansa said gently.
"The Hound does whatever the Prince tells him to do!" she shouted, slamming the knife into the table one last time.
Septa Mordane began escorting Arya away from the table just as Ned entered the room. "What's happening here?" he asked looking from one face to another.
"Arya would rather act like a beast than a lady," the Septa explained disapprovingly.
Ned shook his head at his youngest daughter. "Go to your room. We'll speak later." As Arya left, he placed a wrapped package in front of Sansa on the table. "That's for you, love," he added.
As Ned and Septa Mordane sat down at the table, Sansa opened the package; it was revealed to be a doll.
"The same dollmaker makes all of Princess Myrcella's toys," Ned said. "Don't you like it?" he asked disappointedly.
Sansa was unimpressed, but at her father's disheartened expression, she tried to smile for him. "I haven't played with dolls since I was eight, but thank you, Father," she smiled and then turned to the Septa. "May I be excused?" she asked softly.
"You've barely eaten a thing," the Septa protested.
"It's all right," Ned sighed. "Go on." As she left, he watched her sadly. "War was easier than daughters," he commented to himself.
Arya was in her chambers unsheathing Needle. when There was a knock on her door. Thinking it was the Septa, she called "Go away!"
"Arya, open the door," Ned called through the barrier. Realizing it was her father, she went to do as she was told. "May I come in?" he continued. Arya let him in.
As he came through the doorway, he noticed Needle in his daughter's hand. "Whose sword is that?" he questioned her.
"Mine," she said defensively.
"Give it to me," her father ordered. She held on to it for a moment before finally giving it to him to inspect. "I know this maker's mark...this is Mikken's work. Where did you get this?" he asked curiously. She looked at him nervously but didn't answer. "This is no toy," he continued. "Little ladies shouldn't play with swords," he finished with a slight smile.
"I wasn't playing. And I don't want to be a lady," Arya explained as her father sat down on the bed.
"Come here," he said quietly, motioning for his daughter to sit next to him. "Now what do you want with this?" he asked gently.
"It's called Needle," she said.
"Oh, a blade with a name?" he asked curiously, " And who were you hoping to skewer with Needle...the prince? Do you know the first thing about sword fighting?"
"Stick 'em with the pointy end," she replied with a small smile.
Ned laughed at his daughter's whit. "That's the essence of it," he agreed.
"I was trying to learn…" she said mournfully. "I asked Mycah to practice with me. I asked him. It was my fault…," she finished sadly.
Ned put his arm around Arya's shoulder. "No, sweet girl. No, no. You didn't kill the butcher's boy."
"I hate them!" she burst out furiously. " I hate all of them! The Hound, the Queen, and the King, and Joffrey!"
"Look at me," her father said sternly. "You're a Stark of Winterfell. You know our words…"
"Winter is coming," she resighted obediently.
Ned sighed. "You were born in the long summer. You've never known anything else. But now winter is truly coming. And in the winter, we must protect ourselves, look after one another. I don't want to frighten you, but I won't lie to you either… we've come to a dangerous place. We cannot fight a war amongst ourselves. All right?" he finished as he handed Needle back to Arya, she smiled. "Go on. It's yours," he encouraged.
"I can keep it?" she asked in wonder.
"Try not to stab the prince with it," he chuckled as she began swiping it through the air. Ned started to leave but looked back at her as she pointed Needle at him, making him chuckle again. "If you're going to own a sword, you'd better know how to use it," he commented drily.
VIII
(Winterfell)
Robb sighed as he walked to Bran's chambers, Maester Luwin wants the boy to stay in bed longer before trying to walk again. Bran had been happy to hear he was not crippled, but it would be a bit as his back was bruised up a bit.
"In that darkness, the White Walkers came for the first time. They swept through cities and kingdoms, riding their dead horses, hunting with their packs of pale spiders big as hounds-" Robb entered just as Old Nan was telling her story of the walkers.
"What are you telling him now?" he asked with a soft smile on his face for his old caretaker.
"Only what the little lord wants to hear," she said with a shrug as he chuckled.
"Go get your supper, I want some time with him," Robb ordered as she nodded before looking surprised.
"Good evening, Milady," Old Nan greeted as Robb turned to see his wife and her hatchlings clinging to her shoulders.
"And a good evening to you Nan." She bowed her head respectfully to the elder who gathered her things and left as the hatchlings hissed. Summer eagerly nudged one of the hatchlings once they settled on the bed as Bran looked to them.
"One time she told us the sky is blue because we live in the eye of a giant named Macumber," Robb joked as Bran smirked.
"Maybe we do," he suggested as Robb nodded, thinking no one truly knew. Many always questioned the origin of their Gods, where they came from, and how they were their Gods.
"How do you feel?" Robb asked as Rhaenyra sat in the chair, Rhaella climbed back into her lap as Grey Wind came in with Raynor closing the door.
"I'm fine, I guess. I can feel my legs. There's a bit of pain in my back," Bran spoke as Rhaenyra smiled.
"Maester Luwin says that is to be expected. Be grateful you can still walk as he said you would have been paralyzed if Rhae had not of caught you," Robb spoke as Rhaenyra sighed.
"Robb," she growled while Bran took her hand.
"It's true," the boy agreed. He had been surprised to see living dragons sitting on his legs. He could feel them on his legs! Maester Luwin had asked if he felt numbness in them and when they told him why he nearly dropped.
"You still don't remember anything?" Robb asked in worry while Rhaenys nudged his hand. Alysanne seemed comfortable in settling on Bran's legs, knowing it comforted the boy to have the dragon resting on him.
"No, I don't," the boy denied as Rhaenyra sighed. "I slipped, right?" he asked while Rhaenyra opened her mouth but couldn't say anything.
"I've seen you climb a thousand times. In the wind, the rain, and the snow… a thousand times. You have never fallen," Robb spoke in belief before the boy looked to him.
"But I did," Bran pouted with defeat in his tone as he had been known to brag before that he had never fallen. He looked up from his hands, directly at Robb. "It's true, isn't it? What Maester Luwin says about my legs? I'll never climb again, will I?"
Robb nodded sadly but then seemed to brighten. "You will walk and hopefully ride, little brother," he said encouragingly.
Bran scowled furiously at the attempt and pulled his hand out of Rhaenyra's. "I'd rather be dead," he snarled at them.
At this, Robb's cool mask cracked. "Don't ever say that," he commanded sharply.
Bran's scowl deepened as he raised his voice slightly. "I'd rather be dead," he repeated.
Robb glanced at Rhaenyra and stormed out of the room with a muttered curse. The lady of Winterfell sighed and touched Bran's cheek. "Never say that Lyka Jaosītsos, you don't know how we've worried about you! And as Maester Luwin says, you just need to recover, and you'll walk again."
Bran swallowed hard and glanced through his hair at her. "Aye, but I will never be a Knight, will I? How can I be a Knight if I can't run or climb?" Rhaenyra shook her head sadly, as she left the room to find her husband in their chambers.
"I don't know what to do with him," Robb spoke in defeat as he sat with his wife in the tub as she ran the cloth over his shoulders, her wet hair loose and clinging to her body.
"We can't do much, Robb. All we can do is wait for him to recover," Rhaenyra said as Robb sighed exhaustedly while she kissed his shoulder and neck. Robb groaned, slowly her kisses moved to his lips as he trailed one hand up to her hair, entangling it as he pressed his lips against her own with more force. He ran his free hand down her side and cupped the swell of her ass, pulling her closer as she ground down against him, bringing a strangled moan from his lips as she reached down, feeling him hard already she lined him up before sinking down. Taking him fully to the hilt, they shared a groan as he released her hair and started to help her move as she kissed his lips and skin frantically while he suckled at her neck.
"You are so tight," he moaned, bucking into her as she giggled. A soft gasp leaving her as he held her hips to his own, she held him close as he sought out her lips. He swallowed her moan as his tongue pushed through her lips while her own joined his in a passionate dance. she could feel the tightening and tingling feeling on her skin as he helped her move. Gripping the tub sides, she squealed before trembling as she felt the spring that had been coiling inside her break, and pleasure took over as Robb quickly followed his wife as he filled her with his seed while she shivered. He gave her a few more passionate kisses before picking her up and out of their cold water before laying her in front of their burning fire as he continued their lovemaking with Rhaenyra jerking at the sensitivity she was feeling. Robb quickly caged her head with his arms as she wrapped her own from underneath while gripping his shoulder and neck, her legs quickly wrapping around his waist as he pushed inside her again as she moaned, urging him faster, he brought her over the edge once more as she cried out biting his shoulder. The night continued on like that for some time before they passed out in front of the fire. Rhaenyra did not want to move when Robb prompted her, so he pulled a fur and pillow he had retrieved from the bed over them.
"Stubborn woman," he whispered, kissing her forehead as she slept peacefully.
VIII
Author's notes: Here we are, at the end of another chapter, thanks for reading and reviewing!
~Rusty14~
