Harrenhal…

Moon of the Dragon, 281 After Aegon's Conquest…

"Father," the new young man bearing all the typical Stark features said as he stood before us. His long, brown hair was pulled up, but his stern face already had the beginnings of a wispy beard, though it was his eyes that told his happiness as he held out his hand. He had already taken stock of the occupants of the tent, lingering on me in confusion instead of happiness like with his siblings and father.

"Ned," Rickard smiled, slapping the hand aside as he dragged his second son into a bear hug. "By the gods, it's good to see you, lad. When we received your raven we thought not to see you 'til I found you a bride."

"And have you?"

"No, son, I haven't. Have you found one for yourself?" Rickard grinned as Eddard flushed.

"Nay, father… I… I have not. However, I have oft found myself in Ashara Dayne's company since our arrival. The Sword of the Morning accompanied the Prince, the Daynes arrived a sennight before our party."

"Aye, I thought I saw her. She's quite a beauty, Ned. But then again, so is the silver-haired bastard her brother protects." Brandon snarked, rolling his eyes from his place in the corner of the tent. "It's good to see you, brother. It's been far too long."

"Indeed. You've barely changed since then. Though you've perhaps grown uglier." Eddard smirked as Brandon chuckled.

"Perhaps. But you? You barely reached my chest when you left Winterfell, now you're a man grown!"

"Aye, time and the gods have been good to me. And you, sister, it does my soul good to see you again. Look at you! You're now a woman grown!" Lyanna smiled as she ran to her brother, trying to crush him in her arms.

"It's so, so good to see you, Ned! I wish Ben could be here too. Oh! Speaking of, have you met cousin Ben yet?" Lyanna looked up at her brother as Ned's Stark gray eyes met my own.

"Nay, I haven't the pleasure," Ned said as he held his hand out to me. "Though I have heard many things about you, Lord Agonstark."

"To family it's just Ben, and we're family." I grinned as I shook his hand. Ned simply nodded. "It's good to meet you, Ned."

"Likewise, Ben. But where is Benjen?"

"There must always be a Stark in Winterfell. He is the Stark until my return."

"You are leaving then?" Ned sighed, a look of resignation in his eyes.

"Aye, I fear I must. I will return to Riverrun on the moon of the Wolf, Catelyn Tully will have reached her eight and tenth name day by then. As per my agreement with Hoster, she will marry your brother, Brandon, following the tourney."

"Then I, too, will be in Riverrun by the moon of the Wolf." Ned said, placing his fist over his heart. "By the Old Gods and New, this I swear."

"Good lad. See you do not break that oath." Rickard smiled gently as he clapped his son on the shoulder. "I will see you then, boy. Be well."

"Father…" Ned hesitated, glancing down at the ground before looking back up to the Lord of Winterfell. "Why have you only betrothed Bran?"

"I have not. Benjen is to marry Alysanne Hightower."

"A Hightower?" Eddard, obviously not expecting that, rocked on his feet. "Truly?"

"Truly. Lord Hightower asked this of me as a favor between old friends." Rickard said as Eddard's face turned pensive.

"Father… As your son, may I ask another favor between friends?"

"You wish to bind House Stark to House Baratheon?"

"Aye, I do."

"Hm. Tell me truly, Eddard Stark, how many sons does your foster brother have? How many daughters?"

"He… He has two daughters that he knows of."

"I see. You would have me shame my daughter so? Your sister?"

"He's a good man."

"He has the Baratheon battlelust. If that lust cannot be slaked with blood then whatever vice he choses shall be his bane. He has a love of the hunt, aye?"

"Aye."

"If he were only a hunter of boar and stag then perhaps he would be a fine match for your sister but no. No. Robert Baratheon loves his cups and his whores more than he could ever love your sister. But, there is one opinion in this matter that has even greater import than mine."

"Whose?"

"Lyanna, what say you?"

"I won't marry that… That… That beast!" Lyanna shuddered. "I want to find a man in the way you've found your woman, Ned!"

"I haven't found a woman, sister."

"The way you speak of Ashara Dayne says otherwise, brother."

"I…"

"I shall speak to Lord Dayne on your behalf before I begin my journey, should you wish it of me."

"Father…" Ned's hands were trembling as he looked at Rickard. "I don't know what to say… I… Do not know if I would take her to wife."

"You mean you haven't the faintest idea of whether your friend's already fucked her or not. Seven Hells, you don't know if he isn't fucking her as we speak." Brandon rolled his eyes as he looked at his younger brother.

"Well, she is Dornish." I muttered under my breath, but Rickard shot me a warning look as Brandon bit back a chuckle. Ned, on the other hand…

"He wouldn't!"

"He wouldn't?" Brandon laughed scornfully before he leveled a glare at his little brother. "Do you really believe that?" Ned closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. "Why do you still help him?"

"He's my brother."

"I am your brother."

"And we're your family, Ned." Lyanna said, wrapping her arms around her brother tightly.

"Aye… Aye, you're right," Ned said, hugging Lya back. Rickard's eyes met mine, and I nodded. He nodded back.

"Do you want to come home, Ned?" I asked. Ned looked up, obviously surprised. I guess he forgot I was in the room.

"How?"

"We take you back to the North." I smirked as Ned raised an eyebrow. "The only question is whether you want to learn from me or from your father."

"And what could you teach me?"

"Metalcraft mostly, but also how to command an army. Well, I have people who could teach you that. I'm a rather poor commander myself."

"If that is so, would father not teach me?"

"I've placed Ben as the North's Lord Marshall. He had a few rather ingenious ideas that are quite popular among the small folks."

"Such as?"

"The Rangers, for one."

"The Rangers? What are those?"

"What do you know of the Gold Cloaks?" I asked.

"That they most all abandoned their posts and marched with that caravan bound for Winterfell." Eddard narrowed his eyes. "You were responsible for that. Do you deny it?"

"No. Lord Tywin and I agreed that King's Landing was becoming… Rather cluttered. I assisted him with that." I smirked as Eddard stroked his beard.

"Hm… Other than that, I know little about them. Were they not the city watch?"

"Aye, they policed the city. I've made a police force of my own: the North's Rangers." Ned lifted an eyebrow. "They're some of your father's most trusted men. There are two factions, the Regulars and the Cursors. The Regulars (or just the Rangers) are horsemen trained with the longbow, they were our answer to the banditry that we'll be fighting for all eternity."

"They're effective?"

"As they can be," I said and shrugged. "They catch a few highwaymen, shoot a lot more. The reported crime rate is falling on the roads, so it's working as well as we could have hoped for."

"And what of these Cursors?"

"Those are headed by an old friend of mine, Filius Flitwick, and managed by another friend, Edward Lupin. Flitwick has a school in Wintertown while Teddy runs the day-to-day operations. Flitwick teaches kids for free but if adults wish to learn, the professors asks them to pay a few coppers if they can or, if they can't, with anything they can afford to leave. Anyhow, the Cursors are scholars, bookkeepers, and messengers. Flitwick runs the Scholars and Teddy manages the messages. Put simply? They're the North's answer to the Maesters. They carry the more important messages we don't trust to ravens so they get mostly the same training as Rangers."

"They would be popular in the South then." Eddard crossed his arms and stroked his chin. "Most of the Maesters have been executed. Though Lord Hightower was adamant the Citadel itself remain unmolested."

"Aye, he is a good man," Rickard said. "And a generous man at that. He has allowed our Cursors to study what they can from the Citadel's library alongside the Maesters we know to be true. Few as they are."

"Hm… Did you execute Walys?"

"As a matter of fact, I did. His skull still decorates Winterfell's battlements."

"I never liked the man and his death is no great loss, but who manages the library and ravens at Winterfell now?"

"A former Maester named Luwin. He's a Snow, a Hornwood bastard who forged his chain and took his oath but never had a castle of his own to spy on. He was released from his vows and joined the Cursors. From what I've been told and from what little I've observed, he's a good man."

"That's high praise from you, father." Ned said, looking at the dirt floor of the tent again. "I… I want to come home. To Winterfell. To the North."

"Good, it's high time you did." Rickard said, taking his son by the shoulders. "When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies…"

"But the pack survives." His three children said in unison.

"Never forget that."

"I shan't, father." Ned said, almost inaudibly.

"Good. Now, I've work to do. I suggest you find your lady, Eddard. May I remind you, if you do not then I shall be forced find a worthy match for you." Rickard's eyes sparkled as he clapped Ned's shoulders and then turned to me. "Come, Lord Agonstark. Let my children have their reunion in private."

"Of course, Lord Stark. Please, after you." I grinned, gesturing to the tent flap. Rickard nodded, walked past me, and threw open the tent flap with me close behind him. We walked in silence for a few meters until I was sure no one was in earshot. "Muffliato."

"My thanks." Rickard said, glancing over his shoulder back at the tent. "It appears that Eddard's time at the Eyrie has changed him little."

"He was always that serious?"

"Aye." Rickard smirked. "Just like his grandfather, that one. That man gave Harlan Bolton his under Winterfell's Heart tree without even flinching." The Stark lord shuddered slightly before shaking himself. "The Wolfsblood that ran through him runs through Benjen and Ned as well."

"Ah, I think I understand." I shook my head, thinking of how serious little Ben was. Benjen didn't get angry often, but when he did, it was the fury of a blizzard.

"Good. The North needs more men like Ned and Benjen. Brandon and Lyanna are the Wild Wolves, hotheaded and impulsive but we need cool, level heads. It is thanks to your influence, and that of your family's, that they've both calmed. You and yours have been good for them both."

"For Brandon especially."

"Nay, he is still Brandon. Now he pauses long enough to think and is too busy with the duties I've assigned him at Winterfell to go gallivanting through the Rills anymore. He still spends most of his nights at Wintertown's brothel, much to my shame."

"He still hasn't had any kids?"

"He's fathered two babes; Edric and Jana Snow – both of their mothers are whores but they're being watched over by the servants at Winterfell. Brandon brought them to me but it was my decision that they would be raised in Winterfell. They may not carry the name–"

"But they are family. I would raise them but I have three little ones of my own to worry about at the moment."

"Aye, and I thank you for it. How is Dacey?"

"Arsa was the hardest of the three. According to Dacey, the twins came far easier." I sighed, palming my face as I stared up at the ruined castle. "Dacey's had a hard four moons but she's recovering. Aunt Jessica's an enchanter with a bit of medical training but it's Andy who's the healer. They both agreed that while Dacey shouldn't be swinging around her mace anytime soon, Andy said that her carrying both the boys at the same time isn't out of the question."

"And the babe?"

"Arsa… She's doing well. A happy baby." I smiled longingly even as Rickard grinned and clapped me on the shoulder.

"Aye, I know that look, lad. It should be you going home to your lady-wife."

"Instead you're going back to yours: Madam Duty."

"Hah! She calls us all, Lord Agonstark. She's every man's mistress, even if he knows it not."

"Aye, don't I know it…" I sighed, glancing around before turning to meet Lord Stark's curious gray eyes. "I got word from Buln today; he told me the first Trident, Shark, and Dragon legions completed their training and await their… Well, he called it blooding. But they're ready."

"Are they?"

"Aye, they're in transit to their stations now."

"I see. Will you take them to Essos?"

"I'll let Buln take care of that this time. The Legion needs combat experience and no one will miss a few Dothraki."

"Indeed. Where will they stay when they reach their posts?"

"You've seen their camps?"

"Aye, the Wolves' base camp is astounding, but where will you house the Dragon legions? The Moat has never been known to be hospitable to armies, even those allied to our cause."

"There's a rather large barracks under Moat Cailin for the legion's personal use. The Keep is mostly for show at this point but it can house Legions in times of war. I currently don't have a dedicated castle guard so I'll be pretty dependent on them for defense."

"Hm, interesting. Perhaps I could rehouse the First Wolf in the first keep now that it has been restored."

"It's a good defensive position even if it's not the most ideal for defense."

"I'd rather have them on hand in case of an emergency than a half kilometer away."

"Hm, and what of your men at arms? How would they take to being replaced?"

"Hah! You'd think they'd spit at the legionnaires but no, they want to join the Legion." Rickard chortled. "But when I allowed them to tour the legion's camp, they immediately reconsidered."

"Did they?"

"Indeed." Rickard smirked. "Though they may reconsider if I house the First Wolf in the First Keep. It would be a bit cramped with the full legion but the men at arms are loathe to give up their soft - if small - beds in a warm castle with strong walls for a cot in a cold tent protected by a wooden fence and six thousand men. Rehouse the legion…"

"And you'd lose all your men at arms." I finished, smirking. "But I think the legionnaires would prefer tight quarters to the biting cold once Winter comes if they're still stuck in canvas tents."

"Aye. Though I still would not wish to lay siege to camp, not knowing what lies within."

"I wouldn't do it with less than thirty thousand men at arms." I said, shaking my head as Rickard nodded."

"Aye, I agree. And only if I had heavy artillery that could outrange your arbalests."

"I don't think that's possible, my Lord. Do you know of any weapon that can lay down fire up to six thousand feet away?"

"No, I do not." Rickard shook his head. "But a single legion carries how many of those arbalests?"

"Fifty."

"How many bolts is one capable of letting fly in a minute?"

"Three." I said as Rickard nodded.

"You can loose one hundred and fifty bolts in one minute. Lord Tyrell is known to have over one hundred trebuchet - more than the Stormlands, Dorne and the North combined - and nearly a half thousand ballista. If an army were marching toward you, you would have perhaps five minutes before the trebuchets were in range and returning volleys. Another ten and the ballista would be in position. Then the army would be at your door."

"But in five minutes I could have seven hundred and fifty bolts in the air."

"Not all of those would hit their target."

"No, they wouldn't… The Legion isn't perfect, my Lord. It wasn't intended to be. It's only intended to be a better option than what we have right now."

"And it does that well, Lord Agonstark. Be proud of what you've accomplished. In the few, short years you've been here the North is now connected from the Moat to Castle Black with a well paved road and from east to west by a canal. The North is impenetrable from the South and your canal is defended! More than that the smallfolk are clean, fed, watered, and happy. If that was all you had accomplished then you would go down as a hero in our records but no! There are three new cities being raised from the ground up, Wintertown is larger than it's ever been and cleaner to boot, and the Mountain Tribes are more comfortable with Northmen than they have been in centuries. You have done the North good and you have yet to walk this land for three years."

"Aye… It's a little insane to think about how much has changed."

"Indeed it is." Rickard smiled, clapping my shoulder. "I fear I must depart now, my Lord. Benjen, Old Gods bless him, is not suited yet to being Lord."

"He's fourteen, my Lord." I smirked, shaking my head. "Whenever Harry gets back from his adventures, ask him what he was doing at that age."

"For the sake of my sanity, I dare not ask." Rickard sighed, shaking his head as I grinned.

"Probably for the best. Will you portkey?"

"No, I need to be seen leaving." He sighed, shaking his head. "A shame too, I could already be back in Winterfell by now."

"Aye, you would be. But if you're traveling by horse, my Lord, you probably need to get going."

"Aye… I do. Will you watch over my children?"

"Aye, my Lord. I will." I nodded, holding my hand out to him. He took it and clasped my forearm.

"Good lad. Take caution, hide your gifts. The Southron's Seven gods forbid sorcery and the Septons would see you hanged if they knew of them."

"I know how to hide my abilities, Lord Stark, I just don't like to." I smiled as the Stark sighed.

"Aye. Go, lad. We will meet again." Rickard nodded to me, and I dropped the spell.

"May the old gods be with you, Lord Stark."

"And may they be with you as well, Lord Agonstark."

"That's my father's bannerman, you little shits!"

'Oh hell…' Shot through my mind as I laid my hammer down on my anvil with the stacks of metal I was about to place in the forge for their first heat. I snatched Winter's Bane from where it laid on the table in its scabbard and scrambled through the tent flap. Not that it took long to find the source of the commotion. Lyanna stood against three larger, stupider boys – all squires based on the sigils on their chests – with a sword in her hand. Interestingly, she stood slightly in front of a crannogman. Hm… A Blount, a Haigh, and a Frey. Well, the Frey could have been spotted a mile away, at least. They all looked like Ferrets.

"Is there a problem here?" I barked. The three squires whirled around and looked at me with wide eyes. Then the Frey squinted and spat to the side.

"'O the fuck do ya think ya are?"

"Benjamin Agonstark, Lord of Moat Cailin." And the Frey's squinted eyes went wider than a Dornish shield, but I wasn't quite done. "Bannerman and kin to the Stark in Winterfell. And who the fuck do you think you are?"

"I… I, uh… I…"

"Well since you can't talk anymore, from the looks of it I'd say you're a Frey. And not even an important one – then again, are any of you other Walder really that important anyway? Never mind." I snarled as the boy went to open his mouth. "What's your business with the crannogman?" His mouth snapped shut with his teeth clicking together as his eyes made a valiant attempt to free themselves from his skull.

"..." Of course, none of them answered. I snarled and then turned to Lyanna.

"Lady Stark, who is this?"

"I am Howland Reed." The Crannogman said. I turned to him and nodded, tilting my chin back in acknowledgment.

"You're Tarlan's boy, aye?"

"Aye, my Lord."

"Lyanna, take him back to my Forge, would you? It seems I have to speak to these… Imbeciles privately." Lyanna's eyes sparkled dangerously as she grinned at me.

"Of course, Ben! Make sure they don't forget it, don't you?"

"You know what they say, kiddo. The North Remembers…"

"But they'll never forget!" Lyanna laughed maliciously as the boys looked at me like I was Satan himself.

"Exactly. Now, boys, where were we?"

Lyanna and Howland walked by me as the boys took a step backward.

"What is the meaning of this!?" A voice thundered from over my shoulder. I glanced back and wanted to sigh as the titanic man sporting a wild, black beard with blue eyes almost sparking with rage came toward our little group.

"Robert." Lyanna nodded, but there was an obvious edge in her voice. My jaw clenched slightly as I finally took stock of the Stormlord and Ned's best friend. "These three buffoons tried to bother Howland here, Ben doesn't take kindly to that."

"Lord Baratheon." I said, glad I hadn't drawn Winter's Bane yet. "It's a pleasure to meet you finally, Eddard's only said good things."

"Aye, gods bless Ned." Robert smiled as he looked at the three boys too. "They causing trouble?"

"One's a Frey, the other's a Blount. You know how these things are."

"Bloody right there. And the last one?"

"A Haigh that went along with it. Maybe in the future he'll choose better friends."

"Hah! Going to beat the lesson into them?"

"Hm, perhaps." I shrugged as I turned to meet Robert properly. "Robert Baratheon, yes? I am Benjamin Agonstark, Lord of Moat Cailin."

"Ah! So you're the newest Gatekeep, eh?" Robert laughed as he clapped a hand down on my shoulder. I had to fight just to keep my knees from buckling under the impact.

"You could call me that. I figured you'd know me as the man who brought Whiskey to you Southrons."

"That was you!?" The Stormlord boomed, snatching me up by the collar as he dragged me away from the impending fight. "By the gods, man! You're a genius! A true hero amongst men! How do you do it? I'll make you the Lord of fucking Storm's End if you'll teach me how to make it meself!"

"Let's calm down a bit, Lord Baratheon." I tried to break the ridiculously- no, that wasn't quite right… The ludicrously strong man's grip on my collar but he just kept pulling me along behind him. My heels were leaving trenches in the dirt before I finally gave it up as a lost cause, glancing back at Lyanna (whose expression was almost as surprised as mine) while Robert tugged me along. "Maybe talk this out?"

"Robert!?"

"Ned! There you are! Did you know this man made fuckin' whiskey!?" He boomed as Ned pinched the bridge of his nose and glared at his best friend as he fell in step beside him while we rounded a bend.

"Robert, release Lord Agonstark."

"Then how would I get him back to me tent?"

"Let him walk?" Ned said slowly as if he was talking to a toddler. Robert blinked, and the death grip on my collar loosened until he finally let go.

"Right… Right." Robert coughed into his hand as he looked at me. "Sorry 'bout that."

"No worries." I shrugged, crossing my arms after brushing myself off. "But I wouldn't have taught you anyway, I happen to like the Moat and the Gold I get from selling the Whiskey. If I tell you how to make it then half of Westeros would be pumping out their own booze in less than a year."

"Bah! I can't argue with that… The Arbor pumps out wine like a river, the Dornish might as well piss their Red, you northerners used to only have your beer, and the Riverlands made mead. That was when all was right in the world! I didn't care to know how it was made, only that it could get me right pissed, eh!? Then you came along, you bugger, you! Oh, you and yer whiskey!" The burly Stormlord shook his head as he stared at me longingly. "You've robbed me poor pockets of silver and gold! Used to be it went to the Arbor, the Dornish, and the Riverlands! Now it goes straight to your coffers! Do ye really have to charge two hundred bloody dragons for a barrel!?"

"I'm the sole supplier, my Lord." I grinned as Robert's shoulders sagged. "No one else makes it and no one else south of Moat Cailin knows how."

"So there are people North of the Moat who I can bribe?"

"I don't think my wife would take too kindly to that, nor would the Night's Watch." I narrowed my eyes as Robert scratched his beard. "But if you want all the whiskey you could ever ask for, free of charge, please, the Night's Watch is in need of men."

"From this Night and all the Nights to come." Ned cut in with a smirk. Truthfully, Robert actually looked like he was thinking about doing it. Hell, it was one of the reasons (maybe the only reason) the Night's Watch recruitment had soared compared to recent years – at least according to Lord Rickard.

"It's one of the few things to help really keep the crows warm. You don't want to join, My Lord, it's a hard life. Send a raven to Moat Cailin, I'll see to it you get the liquor straight from me and not from one of my suppliers."

"How much?" The bear of a man squinted.

"Well, I may have a Tun or two lying about if you're interested."

"Would I pay full price?"

"No, I'd take… Thirty percent off your normal rate."

"Oh me poor, poor coffers." Robert sighed, hanging his head in defeat. "You win, Agonstark. Not that I have that kind of gold on me here but I will see it sent to you at the Moat."

"And I'll have those casks shipped to Storm's End, my Lord." I nodded. "Now, if you'll excuse me, my lord? Ned, I need to go see if your sister's hunkered down in my shop. Or see if I can track down those squires again..."

"By all means. Robert? Shall we retire to your tent?"

"Aye, I need to send a Raven to Storm's End anyway. Maybe Braavos too…" Robert rumbled as he and Ned turned and marched off in the opposite direction I was headed. I rounded the bend Robert dragged me around only to find the three troublemakers were long gone, but Howland had only moved off to the side.

"Howland?"

"Lord Agonstark."

"Where's Lyanna?"

"She went to your shop, I believe."

"Thank you, Heir Reed. If you are ever in need of aid, call upon me whenever you need."

"My Lord-"

"I insist, Howland." I nodded at the wide-eyed boy before turning in the direction of my tent and work area. "The North Remembers."

"The North Remembers." Howland echoed back. I grinned and kept walking, trodding down the dirt path easily until I was nearly at my tent. Then I heard the voices coming from inside my forge. I frowned, creeping up toward the tent with my back to the entrance as I listened in.

"-Landing? It is quite beautiful this time of year. The Red Keep, in particular, is a sight to behold." An unfamiliar, decidedly male voice said.

"You have never seen Winterfell, my Prince," said Lyanna, confirming the man's identity with ease. Rhaegar. What the fuck was a Targaryen doing in my tent? "The walls are a hundred feet high and even when the snows rise to their highest, they cannot overcome Winterfell."

"A stronghold for true, but there are no snows in King's Landing, my lady. It is warm, pleasant even, in all seasons. There are storms, yes, but a rain storm is not as vicious as a blizzard."

"Ah, but direwolves thrive in the winter snows, my prince."

"A dragon is not suited to the cold. Nor are the hatchlings," the Targaryen said as I narrowed my eyes. "I have a daughter, Rhaenys, though I hope dearly that my Elia will bear me another two. I have always wanted three children… There was a prophecy, you see. It is my destiny to have three children. The Dragon must have three heads." He trailed off quietly enough that I had to strain my ears to hear the man. "Have you heard of the pact of Ice and Fire, my lady?"

"Pardon me, my Prince, but might I clarify as to what it is you are seeking?"

"Your hand, my lady." My hackles had already been standing on end, but now they felt like they were nearly about to tear themselves free.

"I am afraid only my father can grant you that, my Prince. And, as you have said, you are already wed."

"Not if my father commands it." Rhaegar said, the double meaning glaringly obvious.

"Aye, that is true, my Prince." Lyanna said, obviously uncomfortable. It was time for me to step in. I nodded to myself, throwing the tent flap open nonchalantly and freezing for a beat as I 'just noticed,' the duo standing inside.

"Oh, hello. Prince Rhaegar? How can I help you?"

"Who are you to enter a lady's tent without permission, ser?" Rhaegar demanded, his violet eyes blazing at me darkly even as he stepped in front of Lyanna.

"Er… These are my quarters for the tourney, my Prince." I said, my eyebrows raised as I glanced at the forge and anvil in the corner. "Though I don't doubt Lady Lyanna would keep a hammer and anvil in her tent."

"Hm, perhaps. Who are you?"

"I am Benjamin Agonstark of Moat Cailin, my Prince, Lady Lyanna's cousin." I said as the Targaryen's eyes widened slightly, narrowed, and then his face relaxed into an easy smile that I almost would believe was genuine.

"Ah, I see. It is good to meet you, my Lord. Why is it I have not seen you in court to pledge fealty to my father?"

"I pledged myself to Lord Stark, your grace. I am a simple man with no smallfolk to oversee. A minor lord at best, a gatekeep at worst. Put simply? I am not important enough to see the King himself."

"You underestimate yourself, my Lord." The Targaryen said coolly. "I have seen the profit margins from your newest venture. Father and I have received many complaints from both Dorne and the Reach over your… Whisky, yes?"

"Yes, your grace, that's what I call it." I nodded. "Would you care for a taste?"

"I try to abstain from wine, my lord, though I thank you for the offer."

"It was my pleasure, your grace." I said, my hackles still on edge as we fenced pleasantries like dagger thrusts. "Can I help you with anything else?"

"No, my Lord. If you'll excuse me?"

"Of course, your grace," I said, holding the tent flap open for the Targaryen. He put his chin in the air as he marched out. As soon as he stepped through, I pulled my wand and activated the wards integrated into the canvas. "He can't hear us. Are you okay?"

"I- I am…" Lyanna said, shaking slightly as she sat on one of the few benches in the workshop. "He… He's mad."

"Aye, he is. He's a Targaryen."

"He's the Prince, he's to be King…"

"And have you seen the other raving lunatic we call a king? That's what happens when Targaryens marry other Targaryens."

"He is King of the Seven Kingdoms, Ben."

"In name only."

"Ben…"

"You know how I feel about the Targaryens, Lyanna."

"And I also know the North isn't ready for a war."

"Who said anything about a war? What happens when we lower the gates of the Moat and cut off White Harbor from the south?"

"Do you really think it will be that simple?"

"Absolutely not." I sighed, pushing a hand through my hair. "The South is jealous, the Iron Throne won't give up its hold on the North easily. But this time? This time the Targaryen's ace is ours." I grinned as Lyanna's face started to light up just slightly.

"Aye, your thirteen are our best line of defense…"

"Aye, I can even picture the hernia crazy old Aerys'll throw when he hears about Dragons in the North." Lyanna laughed gently as I leaned against the forge.

"Indeed… Rhaegar was not pleased over your chosen sigil, Ben, even if he didn't say so."

"I didn't think he would be, but it's my Sigil. Ancaleon is as much House Stark's defender as the Direwolves."

"More so since the Direwolves haven't been spotted south of the wall in centuries."

"Aye, but stranger things have happened."

"You think they will return?"

"I think Winter is Coming. And I think that the cold winds will bring stranger things than Direwolves on them."