The Eyrie…

"General, if I might a suggestion," Petyr spoke, "don't you think it is best to tell Prince Daemon that restoring parliament—even if it is a smaller portion of what it once was—right now is a bit too risky, given the circumstances? The war effort will get bogged down with bureaucrats and quill pushers. Worse, it could get stocked with fools who would demand we sue for peace."

"Normally I'd be more inclined to agree, major," Samson stated. "Which is why King Ormund II discreetly instilled a certain clause for rare occasions should that happen in times of war."

"Article 67, clause 4F in the Acts of Union states that should parliament fail to grant the necessary authorization in times of war," Jacaerys read from the manual, "emergency power shall be temporarily invoked by the Protector of the Realm under the advisement of the Master of War and Grand General of the Army."

"King Ormund hoped it would not be necessary, but if it comes down to it… well, let us just say that relations between the military and the politicians were never a warm one. Too many self-interests and personal gain." Samson turned to Petyr. "Unlike most of them, we know the score and what is at stake. And as Master of War, I will be advising Daemon should such a moment arise."

A backup plan... and both Samson and Jacaerys know this; they would be daring the nobles to interfere during wartime if they tried anything.

"Clever. Very, very clever," Petyr acknowledged. "Perhaps one of you should run as Prime Minister as well."

Looking around to make sure no one else was within earshot he spoke his next words quietly "Speaking of which, we need to get Daemon to fill out the rest of the council positions, specifically who is to be Hand." He looked between the General and Admiral. "I would normally suggest either of you, but you are needed in the fields, not behind desks. Lady Arryn would also make a good Hand, but I doubt she would ever accept the position."

"Yes, I agree," Samson shrugged. "Though Daemon has informed me that he plans to name Lady Asha Greyjoy to the Small Council as Mistress of Laws and that colonist from Mirantibus Spe's Kental Province Baelor Darren as Master of Coin; says we have him to thank for getting us sixteen million gold dragons."

"Sixteen million?" Jacaerys sputtered. "We'll finally have money to fund our troops, acquire high-end artillery and strengthen our supplies."

"Yes. This colonist has ties to the Central Bank of Westeros dating back three centuries."

"And the Greyjoy lass?"

"A gesture of goodwill, though she can be harsh. Harsh, but fair. No ironborn in history has ever been granted a seat on the Small Council."

It was left unsaid that the Greyjoys had a certain history of unpredictable and untrustworthy behavior which had contributed to their exclusion from a say in government. However, if this rebellion were to succeed then past grudges and petty squabbles needed to be set aside.

"I can just imagine how they are all reacting in King's Landing," Petyr mused. "Argilac most certainly has broken everything in the Red Keep and Gerion is probably stalking back and forth like a caged lion in the Tower of the Hand."

But all three of them understood a cornered lion was even more dangerous.

"Major," Samson said with an authoritative tone. "Double the guards around Loreon's cell and place them on a rotating basis to avoid any being influenced. Gerion Lannister would already know where we are this past fortnight – well beyond his reach. By then the men would have received a raven with a message: 'Release my son and you will be rich beyond your dreams. Refuse and your house will be destroyed, root and stem.'"

"Still," Jacaerys warned, "even a lion when backed into a corner will be an even dangerous adversary. Now that we have his son in our custody, I expect him to deploy several ruthless tactics to get what he wants."

Then both Samson and Jacaerys spoke in unison.

"Just like he did at the Stepstones..."

The Eyrie – Guest apartments…

Meanwhile, after a long hard ride to the Eyrie, Daemon had secluded himself in his private quarters for much-needed rest. Though he had not realized just how tired he had been from the moment his head touched the overstuffed pillow, he immediately fell asleep.

But it was not a restful sleep, for the Prince found himself plagued with dreams the likes of which he had never experienced before. Visions that kept flashing and shifting that he barely had time to process. First, there was King's Landing, the bells peeling loudly as the city burned, and black smoke rose into the sky forming a great cloud. The scene below changed from King's Landing to Storm's End, and from the black cloud blots of blue and red lightning shot out like spears and struck the colossal drum tower.

And from the tower, the image of a boy could be seen falling. However, just before his body struck the ground, he transformed into a raven and flew upwards into the sky. When the raven came back down it landed on the branch of a weirwood tree that grew in the center of a desert. The desert was littered with the bones of the dead, tattered banners with faded colors fluttering in the breeze. And among the bodies of the dead, two mighty stags with their horns locked together fought.

From the tree, the raven opened its mouth to caw, but out its mouth came a red viper, which wrapped itself around the branch of the weirwood. The servant hissed and arched itself, ready to strike. The raven then turned its head to look at Daemon, he could see that it had three eyes. The prince heard a disembodied voice suddenly enter his head and whisper…

« …Fly or die… »

Suddenly the red leaves of the weirwood transformed into a thousand ravens, which followed the one with the three eyes and converged on…

"DAEMON! WAKE UP!" a softer voice filled with urgency called out. The prince immediately opened his eyes and found himself back in his room. His face was drenched with sweat and the sheets of the bed wrapped around him. Staring down at him was Sharra, her eyes conveying fear and worry. "Are you all right? You were screaming in your sleep for help," she explained as she poured a pitcher of clear mountain stream water into a goblet and offered it to her boyfriend.

Daemon groaned and rubbed his eyes. "Damn dreams have been getting worse... and these headaches," he complained. "Even when I'm on the battlefield, they've been growing ever more persistent. I swear I must be losing it..."

Before he could say another word, the Lady of the Vale forced him to take a deep drink of the water, as he did Sharra teasingly said "That is assuming you ever had 'it' in the first place, but I have my doubts," she gave a slight giggle and then placed a soothing hand on his cheek. "You are carrying a heavy burden; it is only natural that you would be stressed." Her voice though serious was as soothing as any tonic.

"Not if you've seen the things I've seen lately," Daemon looked more exhausted. "Never seen a raven with a third eye on its forehead before, but that'd make me sound like a madman."

Just then, the door opened – revealing Rodrik Stark, who was representing a Great House at the rebel summit in his father's stead. "You aren't hallucinating, cousin."

"Rodrik?"

"It's been our family's best-kept secret for over 20,000 years," Rodrik folded his arms. "No southerner has ever come close to it. So, we never thought something like this would ever resurface again after three centuries."

"Three centuries? Secret? What in the name of the gods are you talking about, Ser Rodrick?" Sharra asked as she stood up and stared at the Northman.

"What I am about to say, my old friend, must not leave this room," Rodrik reiterated. "When my brother Brandon arrived with his platoon to lift the siege at Wayfarer's Rest, he mentioned in his report what had transpired in Daemon. A thousand eyes, a hundred skins, wisdom deep as the roots of ancient trees. He has the sight. The sight of the greenseers of old. And the Three-Eyed Raven is calling him."

"Rodrik, you sound like one of those phony fortune tellers that Argilac brought to court," Sharra said with some disbelief, but then she noticed the deep pensive look on Daemon's face.

"You're not... lying to me, are you?" Daemon asked almost pleadingly.

"What would I gain by lying to you, cousin?" Rodrik replied. "There were reasons why us Northmen never disclose anything as vitally important as this to anyone unless they are kin. My father's sister, Elesra Stark, was one of us long before she became queen. The greensight runs strong in our family."

"I... thought that was another one of grandma's stories. But... hearing it and these boundless headaches—"

"Are only just the beginning. You dream of things that have not happened, but sometimes they do. Not only that, but a greenseer has absolute power over nature, receives visions from past, present, and future... And it is that power that Argilac wants so badly."

"But why me? I am a Baratheon, not a Stark."

"No, but one-quarter of you is – and sometimes that is enough. Why else would you have been chosen for this?"

Sharra simply stood there, looking back and forth between the two cousins, as if they were speaking in some foreign language that she could not understand. "What exactly is the Three-Eyed Raven?" she finally asked. "Some kind of god?"

"They have no names. But each Three-Eyed Raven is an ancient and immensely powerful greenseer who could perceive the past, present, and future through visions and time travel with ease through dreams or dream as another person if they wish," Rodrik explained. "Greenseers are also wargs, which allows them to enter the minds of other beings and control them. In other words, they are all-seeing and all-knowing."

"But that kind of power…the likes of it have not been seen since the days of King Duran II the Bold."

Many scholars had considered King Duran II to be the last king of the golden age of House Baratheon. For he had been the last to undergo the ancient rites and control the immense power first wielded by King Daveth the Great. After his death, his children had all tried to undergo the same rites, but none of them had been able to harness the power, instead it overwhelmed each of them in turn and claimed their lives. Following this, it was said that magic had faded from the world; that time of sorcery and portents had finally ended.

"You misunderstand the Storm Kings' power as something else," Rodrik corrected. "Ours is much older dating back to when the First Men battled the Children of the Forest before the Andals invaded Westeros. The last known Three-Eyed Raven was my ancestor, Bran Stark of Winterfell 800 years ago."

"This doesn't make any sense," Daemon shook his head, now feeling unsure of things. "Why me?"

"I wish I had the answer for you, cousin," Rodrik said sympathetically. "But there are some things we have to figure out for ourselves. Least of all, when we least expect them. Which is why I need to take you with me to Winterfell."

"For what?"

"To start your training."

"But the fight's here! I cannot just abandon them!"

"I know that cousin, but the war will spread further throughout the land unless you learn to master the greensight. The rest of us will do the heavy lifting until then, but we also must ensure that Argilac does not get his hands on that power." Rodrik contemplates. "We leave first thing in the morning. I suggest you finish things here in the Eyrie before we take a ship to White Harbor."

"White Harbor?!" Sharra said shocked, "Rodrick, you know I have nothing but respect for you and your compatriots. But this is not the time to be chasing visions and legends. The situation in the Riverlands has only just now started to stabilize and other fronts are certain to open now that the Iron Islands have joined. Daemon is needed here; it would be a major blow to morale if the leader of the rebellion went north while all the fighting is here in the south. Not to mention the summit and restoration of parliament."

"Which is why when the time comes, he must be trained," Rodrik reiterated. "If Daemon doesn't learn to master the greensight, the strain on his body and mind will lead to a cerebral hemorrhage - provided he doesn't lose his sanity first."

"Wait!" Daemon exclaimed shocked. "You're saying it'll kill me?!"

"Should you continue to ignore it... then yes."

That was most certainly not an option. Daemon was the leader and face of the rebellion, if he perished, then everything they were fighting for would die with him.

Sharra bit the tip of her thumb, the idea of Daemon dying was enough to form a pit of anxiety in her stomach. Once she had calmed herself though she looked at them both. "We will have to come up with a suitable cover story for why he is going North, the fewer people who know the better."

"I'll show him the way," Rodrik promised. "My younger brother Brandon will lead the North's army in my place. Daemon will be taken care of, I promise."

Sharra stared hard at him, "I will hold you to that oath," she said firmly. And then turned back to Daemon and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "And what do you say to all this?" she asked.

Daemon rubbed his temples. "To be honest, leaving everyone behind just pisses me off. I do not want to abandon our people. I do not want to leave you," he answered honestly. "But, at the same time... I think that sometimes we must look beyond what we want to do what is best. Besides, the Starks are quite blunt. They cannot lie for shit. And if I do have this... greensight, then I may need answers for all of it if I'm to be of better use to our people."

"Spoken like a true king. Just promise me you will come back. Otherwise, I will be very cross."

"Umm... please do not get mad if I am a tad bit late. But in all seriousness, be safe, Sharra. It'll kill me if I lost you."

On her pale skin, the blush which formed practically turned Sharra's entire face red. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but no words came out, instead, she turned on her heel and quickly left the room.

Rodrik watched her go and then turned his gaze back to Daemon. He gave his cousin a knowing smile. "When are you going to muster the courage and ask her to marry you?"

"Wha...! S-Shut up, you!" Daemon blushed furiously. "Ahem! When she is ready. Emotionally, I mean. Sharra needs time to overcome her trauma after what the Kingsguard did to her in the throne room. I was a bit too pushy last time before Samson, Major Hardyng and I left for Riverrun and did not take into consideration her feelings. I promised I would give her some time and be patient. I have been with her for five years, Rodrik. I don't want to mess things up."

"Most would say chivalry is dead but here you are being the knight in shining armor to the beautiful maiden. You are a good man cousin, but you are a hopeless romantic." Then his face turned serious. "She was right though; you will need to leave someone in charge. If you are not here, then people will start to whisper and plot."

"I know. I never thought I would be in this position. Professor Samson should lead in my place. He might be a commoner, but he is career military. He knows how to lead, he gets results, he is a renowned war hero, popular with his troops... more importantly, he knows our enemies' tactics. Who else can say they know the ins and outs of Lord Gerion Lannister?"

"You know, you are starting to sound more like a king. Now get some rest and pack your bags. I am going to arrange a ship for us. And cousin…ready yourself and pray you got enough Stark in you for what happens."

The Eyrie – Near the dungeons…

The cousins had already begun packing the necessary arrangements for the journey to Winterfell. For Rodrik, he knew that something like this was bound to happen eventually; for Daemon, however, this would be his first trip to the North. For most of his life, he had been cooped up in the Red Keep growing up – not seeing enough of what lies beyond the outside world.

"You know something, Rodrik?" Daemon inquired.

"What's that, cousin?" Rodrik replied.

"I've… never been to the North before."

"Well, we are more isolated from the rest of the other administrative regions in the kingdom. The North is the largest region than the others combined – and because of the harsh climates, it is only natural for all of us to work together to survive each winter. But it also makes us wary about outsiders."

"You think great-uncle Jon would remember me?"

"I cannot say for certain, but he has not left Winterfell in decades. Father has had more on his plate since the war ended all… more so when aunt Elesra died."

"I do seem to remember him and grandmother were close."

"Very close, cousin. It was hard for him to watch her leave her homeland behind for the southern court. So fair warning: he might be a bit rigid at first, but you will learn to get used to it."

Yikes… I did not realize that grandmother's passing had such an effect on him.

Just then, as they descended the next steps, Rodrik glanced to the side and noticed the skycells nearby – one holding valuable prisoners and hostages obtained by Arryn guardsmen. One of them was one he had great disdain for. It was then he stopped and stared at it.

"Rodrik?" Daemon asked curiously.

"Give me a moment, cousin," Rodrik said coolly. "I'll catch up."

Not wanting to know what was even going on in his northern cousin's mind, Daemon continued towards the main hall. Rodrik, meanwhile, stayed behind and motioned for the guards to momentarily stand aside; one guard took the keys from his belt and fiddled with the locks until a click echoed throughout the halls.

Stepping inside, Rodrik enters where Loreon Lannister is being held. Since his capture during the Battle for Riverrun, security around his skycell was tightened with guard rotations occurring to avoid temptation or threats from Lord Gerion's messages demanding his son's release. Loreon was chained to the stone walls, a good distance from the door and enough from the very edge. Although he was fed, he now had a shaggy beard, not having been allowed a razor to shave, and his hair was left unwashed and in tangles. It did not take long for Loreon to acknowledge Rodrik's presence.

"Well, well, Stark… I keep expecting you to leave me in one cell, but you keep moving me from one location to another within these walls. How so? Are you that fond of me? Is that it? Or are you worried about being betrayed from within? I have hardly seen the same guardsmen around these cells these days."

"You know why these security measures are necessary. Or have you forgotten that at the academy?"

"You don't trust the loyalty of those you fight alongside in battle?"

"Oh, I trust them with my life. Just not with yours, colonel."

"Hmm. Smart, for an uncivilized savage," Loreon taunted. "What is wrong? Do you not like being called 'savage'? Or 'uncivilized'? Are you insulted?"

Rodrik kneels and points a dagger at Loreon's throat. "On the contrary, Lannister. You insult yourself," he countered. "You've been defeated by 'an uncivilized savage.' Your overconfidence and your arrogance are what led to your downfall at Riverrun. We had not forgotten the crimes Lord Gerion or King Argilac had committed."

"Aw, do not tell me that you are still sore for being confined to the cells for speaking treason at parliament. How convenient."

"Your father had my colleagues executed."

"I was at Casterly Rock when your friends lost their heads. Besides, we both know how this is going to end. One day, when you least suspect it, I will break free of these chains and fight my way to freedom. Oh, I am sure many will try to prevent it from happening, of course, but it is bound to happen eventually."

"Try it," Rodrik said. "Even if you do somehow manage to escape the Vale, we have already proved that you are not unbeatable. We defeated you before, we can do it again." He sheathed his dagger and stood back up. "I'm sending one of your servants down to my cousin in King's Landing with our terms."

"Huh. You think King Argilac and my father will negotiate with you?" Loreon chuckled with amusement. "Your time in the black cells seems to have dampened your cognitive functions more than I thought."

"But they know we're more dangerous when we work together."

"And how long will it last, I wonder."

"We have more tricks up our sleeves."

Rodrik then turned around and motioned for the guards that his time was up. Upon seeing the doors close and the locks click back into place, they failed to notice that during the whole conversation, Loreon had been shifting his posture ever so slightly. With his wrists reddened and bloodied, he had somehow managed to subtly pick apart one of the thin wires holding the chains in place. Carefully slipping it into one of the chains around his wrist, Loreon began his work. It took a great amount of concentration and silence to prevent the guards from suspecting something and after four agonizing minutes, Loreon felt the lock around his right hand loosen.

I told you, Stark. When you least suspect it, I will break free of these chains. And soon, I will have my freedom… one way or another.

Chapter End

Author's Note: After issuing a declaration of rebellion, preparations are being made for Daemon to begin a long journey north to Winterfell. Since the dreams are coming in more frequently, they're also becoming increasingly potent. What will the rebel Prince hope to find when he reaches his Stark relatives in the frozen wastelands? But little did they realize is that Loreon Lannister is plotting his escape from captivity. How will the rebels react if they find out?

CodeWesteros: I think same abaut simonbagal, if soe member of the frey house will appear maybe is a ancestor of olivar frey, i want see what happen to him and the other member or the royal guard of Daveth baratheon... of course in the white book of the royal guard... Who is the lord commander or argilar and the other 6 members

Olivar and Tyene have kids? and if that what happen whe will see a decendent of two...

For i can remember, Olivar broke his vote for the love he have to Tyene Sand, and she live in kings landing for the rest of his life... soo i think she have the kids of Olivar...
Olivar is one of me favorites carachters of Trials and tribulation of the outhkeeper and i Think in the book of brother appear like

"Olivar frey 18 born son of walder frey, squire the king daveth baratheon in the second greyjor rebellion
he fight in pyke and the sunset sea naval battle, help to saves kings life at the fall of pyke castle with the lord commander Barristan selmy, and to die drowned in the battle of the sunset sea
He safes kings life in a attent of murder in dorne, named Knight of seven kingdoms for the same King in dorne and he was one of the swords that accompanied Queen Sansa Stark north to investigate the disappearance of her sister Arya Stark. I fight in the battle of strong terror.
Appointed royal guard soon after, taking over from Meryn Trant.
fought in the naval battle of the shield islands
I fight in the battle of winterfell against the king of the night protecting Brandon Stark along with Theon greyjoy
Participated in the reconquest of King's Landing
Appointed Master of Arms of the Red Keep
And so it goes ... until the day of his death appears ... I hope he has reached lord commander, and says "it is known as the tower" in allusion to the twin towers of the twins

simonbagal: Some member of the Frey house will appear, saying that he wants to help the prince as his ancestor "Olivar Frey" did, who was the shield of "Daveth the Great" himself and I think if Olivar continued in the royal guard he must have become commander

Guest #1: Who do think would play the characters if this was on TV

―I honestly haven't thought about who would portray certain characters if this was on television. But I would mentally picture Daemon Baratheon as being portrayed by Eduard Badaluta, Milly Alcock as Sharra Arryn, and Graham McTavish as Samson so far.