Song of A Northern Sorcerer

by ffdrake

Darth Nox crash lands onto the frozen land of the North after barely escaping an ambush from the Zakuul Empire. Alone and without resources and with no hope of rescue, Nox decides to make the best of his situation and attaches himself to nearest available option until he can rebuild his powerbase and influence. And with his arrival, the fate of Westeros will be forever changed.

35. Time of Rebirth

Alright everyone! I'm back! Sorry about the insanely long delay…but between two kids and my job and the holidays…well let's just say that free time is a luxury that I do not have at the present time. Don't worry though. Even if I have a space between updates that's longer than normal, I am fully committed to completing this story. And if for some reason that changes, I will let everyone know. But like I said, I want to complete this work.

Thank you to everyone who has alerted to this story, added it to your favorites or left a review! All of your continued support of this story has really been amazing and keeps pushing me to make sure that I finish this story! I read all of your reviews, and they are a boost…though its clear that some are really not meant to be a boost but rather to troll, but I try not to let those few deter me.

And lastly, shoutout to my beta reader and brainstorm partner Tellemicus Sundace. Lastly, I do not own Disney, nor am I Lucas or Martin; I have no ownership of A Song of Fire and Ice, Game of Thrones or Star Wars. This is purely for fun with no profit being made. And with that out of the way, let's get to the chapter! Stay safe out there everyone!

Happy holidays everyone! Stay safe out there!

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Chapter 35

Walking down the packed dirt road with Ser Jorah at her side and her handmaidens close behind, Dany did her best to block out the sounds of the dead and dying as she made her way through the small town her husband had just raided. It'd been several moons since her brother had met his demise at the hands of her husband, and despite her thinking that her life might have a moment's peace now that her brother was gone, she had been wrong. If anything, her life had only become more and more complicated since that day.

Within a single day of her brother dying, she had gone from thinking that she was the last dragon to learning that not only was she not the last, but that she had both a great-uncle and nephew who were alive and well in the North! A part of her, a small part, was still bitter over the fact that her nephew, and by gods was that strange to say, had managed to live a life that did not require him to be constantly on the run from assassins. But that small part was vastly overshadowed by the joy she felt in the knowledge that she was not the last of her family. After learning of her family in Westeros, her life began looking far brighter than it had been. Drogo, her sun and stars, was proving to be a far better husband than she could've ever hoped for! He was attentive to her wants and desires and fiercely protective of her. He also, much to the chagrin of a many Dothraki, began involving her in discussions that were usually reserved only for men. But just as Dany began thinking that her life had indeed taken a turn for the better, it all nearly came crashing down around her.

The day that things had started to turn once more had started out like any other. With her son's birth rapidly approaching, Dany had made sure to take morning walks through the markets of Vaes Dothrak at the suggestion of the Dosh Khaleen. During this walk, Dany was intercepted by a wine merchant who swore up and down that he had the best wine available and all but begged her to take some to her husband and even offered her a full cup of what he claimed was his best wine to prove its worth. But just as she was about to take up his offer, Ser Jorah intervened. At first, she was confused as to why he stopped her, but then he started asking questions of the wine vendor. Specifically, why he, who made his life off of selling wine, would willingly give away a full cup of his best as a sample. For some reason, his questions made the wine vendor uneasy, which in turn made Dany uneasy. And when first Ser Jorah, then herself, demanded that the wine vendor try the offered wine first, the man dropped all pretenses and made a run for it. The man did not make it far as Rakharo managed to tackle the man and bind him before he could even make it a dozen paces down the street.

The attempted assassination had been a crude reminder to her that while her life was taking a turn for the better, she was still a Targaryen, and the Usurper Robert Baratheon still wanted her dead. When Drogo found out, well, to say that he was livid was an understatement. He'd charged into the tent where she was being looked after and, after ensuring that she was safe and offering Jorah his choice of mount for his actions, made an example of the assassin. First, he'd had the man stripped bare and a piece of leather was tied around his head and placed in his mouth so that he could not bite off his own tongue. He was then tied to a post in the middle of Vaes Dothrak and left to the mercy of the sun and heat.

After two days, with milk and honey being poured down the man's throat to keep him alive, her husband announced that he would be leading a raid to the south. And much to Dany's surprise, Drogo also announced that she, despite nearly being ready to bring their son into the world, would be coming with him. After being helped into her saddle, Dany noticed that the assassin was cut down and had his hands tied to the back of a horse. According to Ser Jorah, the man would be forced to walk until he could no longer walk. Dany had questioned about what would happen after he could not walk, Ser Jorah simply replied then he would be dragged until he was no more. The would-be assassin lasted only three miles at best before his legs gave out from under him. And just as Jorah said, he was then dragged across the ground as the sand, rocks and grass tore at his flesh until he was nothing more than a limp piece of bloodied flesh that was being dragged behind a horse.

As gruesome as his fate, both to watch and hear, Dany could not find herself to care. The man had tried to kill her husband, herself, and their unborn child. But what did bring her to care was what she was seeing now. The aftermath of her husband's raid on a small town. She had always known that her husband and now her own people were raiders and brutal. But until now she had never seen their brutality firsthand. Now though…as she walked through the blood-stained dirt roads of what was once a village with the bodies of men, women and…even a few children. The true brutality of her people began to set in. And with each body she passed, the true extent of what happened here became more apparent. While there were a few Dothraki amongst the dead, they were few and far between. If she were pressed, she would say that perhaps only one in twenty bodies she saw amongst the dead were of the Dothraki. 'This wasn't a battle,' Dany thought, fighting to keep her composure as she walked. 'This was a slaughter.'

As she walked further and further into the village, she noticed children and women tied to posts. The dead were being scavenged over for anything valuable by the women of her husband's khalasaar. And those who were still dying swiftly met their ends at of an arakh. "What…What did they do?" Dany asked as she tried not to look too hard at the death and destruction around her.

It was Rakharo who answered her. "The Lamb Men make for good raiding. They have gold, food, women. And while they usually aren't worth a shit in a fight, sometimes they can surprise us with a decent challenge."

"And what of the men, women and children who have not met their end?" Dany asked, eyeing the children who were either being tied to posts or corralled into pens like livestock.

Rakharo shrugged. "If a boy shows promise, he will be taken amongst the khalsar. If not, he will be left behind and maybe he will grow into a man that might one day give us a worthy challenge for a change. Though that doesn't always happen. The girls, if they're too young to be of use then they will be left. If they're of childbearing age and pretty enough, they might get the honor of carrying a worthwhile child in her womb."

Dany felt a wave of bile rise in her throat. A boy would either be left alone or brought amongst the khalasar…and any pretty girl would be raped. And while the children's potential fates disturbed her, it was the almost callous way in which Rakharo describe it that really unnerved her. 'You knew that they were raiders, Dany,' she chided herself as she fought against showing her revulsion on her face. 'You knew this was going to happen sooner or later. Yet you didn't want to believe it.'

'I can change them.' Dany argued back at herself.

'Perhaps. But change does not come quickly…nor easily. And until it does, you must accept the fact that this is the reality of these people, of your people.'

'I can change them. I will! And it starts today!'

"You have a gentle heart, Khaleesi," Ser Jorah said from beside her, completely oblivious to the argument she was having with herself.

The sentiment did not necessarily sit well with her. She could not have a gentle heart, not amongst the Dothraki. And certainly not if she wanted to change them for the better. Hearing a woman, several women, cry out drew Dany's attention to one of the pens where one of her husband's khalassar was pushing and pulling his way through the women. Seemingly finding one he liked, he threw the woman over his shoulder like she was a sack of wheat before making his way out of the pen.

Feeling rage race through her, and doing nothing to stop it, Dany marched purposefully towards the man, putting herself in his path and making him stop. "Khaleesi." The rider greeted her politely, though she could see the slightest bit of a sneer on his face.

"Set her down. I wish to look upon her."

The rider frowned but knowing that he could not deny such a simple request from her, he set the woman…no…the girl down and forced her to face Dany. She was no older than Dany at best. She was pretty, but her fear, so thick that Dany could almost taste it, was dampening that beauty. "A pretty thing," Dany commented, doing all she could to keep her voice, and temper, even. "Do you intend to wed this one?"

The girl, and the rider, both wore looks of surprise. "Why would I wed a lamb woman?" The rider asked as if the very idea disgusted him. "She is pretty and I intent to mount her as part of my spoils. Nothing more."

The surprise quickly disappeared from the girl's face, replaced once more with fear. "So, you intend to mount her…very well. But first you will wed her."

The rider looked at her like she was not making any sense. "Why? I will not wed a lamb woman."

"Then you will not be mounting her," Dany answered calmly, turning and making sure that she had the attention of all nearby. "Let the rest of the khalasar know this. As khalessi to Khal Drogo, I hereby claim all the daughters taken during our raids. If a rider intends to mount a daughter under my claim, he must wed her first. Or if you are so weak willed that you cannot even keep your cock in your pants at the sight of a pretty girl…then I will have your cock removed."

The rider before her was near red with his rage. Once upon a time Dany might have cowered before the look he was giving her, but that was before she'd met Jon, Lord Nox and her husband Drogo. Back then she'd been a weak little girl. But no more. "You intend to take my spoils from me!?"

"Not at all. You merely need to take this girl as your wife, then you may mount her."

The rider glanced from the girl to Dany before snarling and letting her go. He then turned on his heel and marched away from her. The girl immediately dropped to her knees before Dany, kissing her feet and speaking so fast that Dany could hardly understand what she was saying outside of 'thank you'. "Irri, Doreah. See to it that the daughters taken are brought under my claim," she said after getting the girl to calm down. "Rakharo, see to it that my words are spread amongst the khalasaar. And Ser Jorah with me. I have a feeling that rider will be going and complaining to my husband here soon, if he isn't already."

Dany's prediction was, unfortunately, correct as she saw the rider that she'd just stopped from raping the young woman standing before her husband. When Dany stepped up into the pavilion her husband was sitting under, ignoring the pile of dead laying just outside, both men stopped talking as Drogo turned his attention to her. "Moon of my life. Mago here tells me you have taken his spoils. A daughter of a lamb woman he was about to mount. I would hear the truth of this from you."

Turning to cast a glance towards the rider, Mago, who was smirking at her. "He tells the truth, my sun and stars. Though distorts the truth to suit his purpose." Dany said, meeting her husband's eyes. "I have claimed the daughters of this settlement to do with as I please."

Drogo was staring at her not in anger, but rather in curiosity and what almost looked like amusement. "This is the way of war. These daughters are spoils to do with as we please."

Dany did not back down. "If a rider wishes to mount a daughter that I have claimed, as Khaleesi of this khalasar, then he will wed her. However, if the rider is so weak willed that he cannot control his desire to get his cock wet without wedding the daughter beforehand, then I will have his cock removed."

Drogo's smirk grew at her proclamation, though Mago was clearly not pleased. "No foreign girl commands me!"

Raising her hand, Dany reached out with the Force and threw the man back against one of the stone pillars of the pavilion, holding him there so that his feet could not touch the ground. Though the sheer amount of will and concentration even these simple feet surprised her. As her pregnancy had progressed, she had been finding it harder and harder to do anything with the Force. Mostly because she couldn't concentrate with her son moving within her. And now with her son's birth soon upon her, doing anything, no matter how menial, with the Force was incredibly taxing to her. "I am the Khaleesi of Khal Drogo. And this khalasaar, which you are a part of, will follow my orders." Letting him fall to the ground, Dany struggled to remain her poise as she kept herself from showing just how much that simple display cost her.

Mago, having regained his feet, glared at her and took a threatening step towards her. But in response Ser Jorah and Rakharo both took a step forward with their hands on their weapons. "Ha! You see that fire within my wife! That's the fire of the Dragon Lords of old that burns within her! Fire that my son, the one who will mount the world, will carry when she brings him into the world. Mago, I will hear no more of this. Find somewhere else to stick your cock. Or, as my wife said, if you are so weak willed that you cannot control your urges and mount a daughter my wife has claimed without marrying her, you will lose your cock."

Dany was pleased, more than pleased, to hear her husband grant her request. But the same could not be said of Mago. Instead of taking the command for what it was, Mago spat on the ground between himself and her husband. "A Khal who bends to the will of a foreign magi whore is no Khal!"

Immediately, her husband's bloodriders took a step forward with their arakha ready to strike, but all four back down with but a single sound from her husband. Glancing towards her sun and stars, Dany was more startled by the look in his eyes. He looked angrier than she had ever seen him. "Mago," her sun and star's voice was low, but laced with iron and venom. "I was willing to overlook your words…but naming my wife, my Khaleesi, the moon of my life and mother of my son a whore…that is something I will not tolerate. I will not have your body burned. I will not give you that honor. No. I will leave your corpse to rot on the ground."

Leaving his arakha, her husband rose to his feet. Ser Jorah urged her to take a step back, and for once she did not resist him as he guided her back a few steps. Mago immediately raised his arakha the moment her husband rose and placed the edge of the blade against Drogo's chest near his shoulder. Instead of backing away, her husband instead rolled his shoulder forward, letting the blade cut into his flesh, yet at the same time forcing Mago to take a step back. "The beetles will feast on your flesh and the worms will fuck your skull."

Pulling back his arakha, Mago took several swings at Drogo, each of which her sun and stars evaded by moving his body back and forth out of the path of the blade. After one wild swing, Drogo managed to get behind Mago so the two were back-to-back. Before Mago could react, Drogo kicked backwards, his foot finding purchase against Mago's back and throwing the rider to the ground. Keeping his back turned to the downed Mago, her sun and star drew the daggers from his waist. "The rain will fall on your rotting flesh!" Then, just as Mago had regained his foot, her husband showed just how little he cared for Mago's skill as he dropped both of his dagger. "Until there is nothing left but bones."

Mago went on the attack again, but just as before her husband skillfully evaded each strike with ease. Growing more and more frantic with each miss and Drogo's taunts, Mago screamed, "You have to kill me first!"

Instead of evading the next attack, her sun and stars stepped forward, catching Mago's arms against his chest and pinning them there with his hands. "I already have!"

What happened next happened so fast Dany could barely follow it. With one move, her husband tore the arakha out of Mago's grip and spun it towards the rider. Next she knew, her husband had blood on his chest and face as the arakha tore through Mago's throat. But despite the deathblow, her husband did not cease. Dropping the arakha, Drogo gripped Mago's shoulder with his left hand before lashing out towards the opened throat with his right. Dany nearly lost her stomach at the sound of a wet ripping and gurgled cry of agony, but she held strong, even as Mago fell to the ground dead as her husband stood over the dead man with his tongue and part of his throat held in his hand. Grunting, her sun and stars turned around and carelessly tossed the torn-out tongue on top of the pile of bodies before retaking the seat he'd been in when she'd first arrived.

Stepping over the freshly made corpse, Dany tried her best to walk calmly and slowly towards her husband. Even now, she knew that she could not show any sort of weakness, especially not after her husband just got done killing one of his own riders for her. Standing before him, she slowly went down to her knees as she inspected the wound on his chest. "My sun and stars, you're hurt."

"A scratch, nothing more. A simple bite of a fly."

Turning her attention away from the wound, she gazed up at her husband's eyes. "Even the mightiest can fall from a cut should it fester." Rising, she turned to all those assembled. "Is there a healer amongst you?"

No one stepped forward. No one at least until an older woman from amongst the one's Dany had claimed stepped forward. "I know a bit of healing…Khaleesi. I will perform what I know in payment for your claiming of us away from…them."

Dany had not realized that one of her age had been amongst those kept in the pens. Deciding to be cautious, Dany set out a wave with the Force, trying to get a read on the woman's intent just as Jon and Lord Nox had taught her. She could feel the fear from the women around her. The lingering bloodlust and desire from the riders. But from the woman she felt…nothing. Anxiety yes. But…no fear like the others. Glancing back towards her husband, Drogo gave her a look that told her that such a thing was not necessary. But she would not back down and eventually he gaze a single nod. "See to my husband's wounds." Dany ordered, stepped away from her husband as the old woman nodded and to take her place. Once the older woman was with her husband, she turned her attention to Doreah and spoke in the common tongue to mask their conversation. "You know the healing arts better than any other I know. And I trust you explicitly. Watch her."

Doreah gave her a look of concern, but she nodded and moved past Dany towards the old woman to offer her aid. 'Something isn't right.' Dany thought, biting her lip. 'But I cannot let that wound fester on a fear of something I do not know.'

---

Ever since he'd read about Harrenhal, Nox had been anxious to visit the famous castle. And now that he was here, he was not disappointed. The castle was positively massive to an almost ridiculous scale even by Sith standards. The castle itself easily covered three times the area as Winterfell and it's walls were just as tall, obscuring almost everything within save for the five towers within that could almost be described as skyscrapers given their height. What he wouldn't have given to see this place in it's prime, before Aegon the Conqueror had come and used his dragon to melt a fair portion of the keep into an almost unusable condition. But despite the damage, this castle was indeed a marvel.

Feeling Nyra's hand gently fall atop of his own, Nox brought himself back from his examinations of the great castle and back to where he was within the Hall of the Hundred Hearths. Though calling it that was more of an exaggeration than anything as Nox could only count somewhere in the mid-thirties, but it was still a massive room. Easily larger than the throne room in the Red Keep, and far larger than most audience chambers in the Sith Empire. And as of this moment, all of the thirty or so hearts were ablaze as hundreds, perhaps nearly a thousand, gathered within the confines of the hall to eat, drink, and talk. And the sheer volume within the hall was almost to the point of being uncomfortable given the number of people who were talking at once. But mercifully, Nox and Nyra had been given a seat of honor up on the dais with the royal family and the other 'Great Noble' houses of Westeros.

Nox and Nyra had been given a place amongst the Starks, who were seated directly to the right of the royal family while the Queens own family, the Lannisters, were seated to the left of the royal family with Tywin Lannister taking the spot closest to the royals. Next to Starks were the Tully's, though the only two in attendance were the young heir Edmure and his Uncle Brynden 'The Blackfish'. The younger of whom seemed to be doing all he could to avoid his kin, while the elder was at least talking with the Stark children and Ned. The Tyrells were also seated close by, Willas clearly eager to be close to his betrothed while the youngest girl Margeary was dressed clearly in a manner that was meant to draw the attention of the young crown Prince. A feat which she seemed to be excelling at judging by how frequently the boy's attention kept being drawn to her. And rounding out those seated at the high table was the King's youngest brother Renly, who was talking in an aminated fashion to all who had an ear to listen to whatever story he was spinning.

But perhaps the most important thing of note was not necessarily who was at the high table, but rather those who were not. The King's brother was absent. As were the Martells. The latter were expected to be absent considering the bad blood that still existed between the crown and them. And Stannis, while his sudden isolation was indeed odd it was not necessarily of enough note to get more than a few tongues wagging. What did have a lot of people talking was the fact that there was no representative from House Arryn. There were a few knightly and noble Houses from the Vale in attendance but according to the Blackfish, who was Knight of the Gate, the Lady Lysa Tully had pulled back her court to Eyrie and was now hold up there, refusing all ravens and visitors.

Feeling Nyra's hand tighten on his own, Nox tried to give his wife a reassuring smile as he returned the gesture in kind. It was easy to forget that his wife had been born and raised a 'commoner', given how strong an influence and presence she had in the North. But here in the south, surrounded by the 'royals' and 'nobles', many of whom were looking down at her but wisely keeping their mouth shut lest they truly draw his wrath, she was clearly uneasy. "You're doing fine Nyra," Nox said lowly so that only the two of them could hear. "You, more than most, deserve to be here. Keep your head held high love, and show no weakness to those who think you don't belong."

Nodding, Nyra straightened her back and put on a blank mask, trying to show that she belonged amongst the 'highest' that Westeros had to offer. Despite the rather tense atmosphere and the almost open hostility his wife was receiving from some of those who thought she did not belong; the evening was progressing along without issue. Which was of course right up until the Crown Prince rose to his feet, a smirk firmly on his face as he turned towards the Starks.

"I hear that congratulations are in order!" The Prince called out loudly, silencing almost all talk in the hall. "My future Warden of the North has found a bride from Volantis and married her. Though it's sad that they did not notify the Crown of such a marriage, I suppose I cannot find fault with my future Warden's choice in bride! And not only that, but I have heard that my future Warden of the South has been betrothed to a wolf as well! Lady Sansa Stark! The so-named great healer, though I do wonder if that title is more than a bit—"

"Sit down and shut up, Joffrey," Robert hissed, rising to his feet and all but pushing the crown prince back down into his seat before addressing the hall. "It is indeed as my son has said, for those of you who do not know. Lord Robb Stark has recently wed the Lady Talisa Maegyr from Volantis, with full knowledge and consent of the crown. And indeed, the Lady Sansa Stark has been betrothed to Lord Willas Tyrell. And as for the Lady Sansa's gifts…well she has no need to show us what she can do. The words of her father and Lord Nox are more than enough."

There was a round of polite applause as the King retook his seat, looking more than slightly offput at having been put on the spot like that as he tried to keep the crown prince from causing an incident. Turning his attention towards Sansa, he could feel her indignation at the crown prince's doubtful words about her ability. While she wasn't overly prideful or boastful, she was still very much a wolf at heart that would not let such doubt about what she could do remain for long. "I…do not mind providing an example of my gifts, your grace. Indeed, Lady Nyra Nox and my own betrothed Lord Willas Tyrell have already been recipients of what I can do. But should the crown prince require more, I will oblige the crown's request. Yet I fear that there are none here who are in need of my abilities at the moment, your grace. Perhaps in the coming days there will be chance to show his grace what I can do with my gift."

Nox had to fight the smirk from showing on his face as he felt satisfaction seeping from the crown prince. The boy was clearly trying to humiliate or discredit the Starks and himself publicly. But his chosen method was sloppy. Inexperienced. And it was going to backfire on him spectacularly. "No need to wait," the crown prince smirked, motioning towards the guards that were lining the walls of the hall. "Dog! Get over here. Perhaps the Lady Stark can finally do something about your face!"

From the line of guards, a large and imposing man clad in heavy dark plated armor made his way forward. Nox could feel the man's anger, his pain… An effect of the heavy scarring that marred half the man's face. 'Ser Sandor Clegane,' Nox thought, instantly recognizing the man as he walked forward. 'And your inexperience in matters of the 'game' shows itself…'prince'. You've just handed us an asset on the silver platter.'

All noise in the hall quieted as Sansa rose to her feet and approached the imposing man. With her head barely reaching the man's midsection, Sansa had to tilt her head back quite far to look at the man's scarred face. "If you would please, ser knight." Sansa said calmly, raising her hand towards Sandor's face, which was just out of reach for her.

"I'm no knight, girl," Sandor grumbled, his attention flickering towards the King before sighing and going down to one knee before Sansa.

Raising her hand to his face, Sansa slowly pushed the man's hair out of the way so that his scars were fully on display for all to see. It was not a pleasant sight, that much Nox could tell even without his eyes. Burn wounds never were. And he could sense that even though the wounds were decades old, they still ached and cause the man no small amount of discomfort and even pain at times. Sansa's hand faltered slightly as she took in the full scale of the scarring.

"What's the matter, Lady Stark?" the crown prince called from his place next to the King. "Too much ugliness for you to handle?"

Steeling herself, Sansa shook her head. "No, your grace. Scars are not ugly and should not be held against those who have them."

With a deliberate slowness of an experienced performer, Sansa reached out and pressed her hand fully against the scars on Clegane's face. There was a sudden intake of breath from nearly all save those of the North as a light greenish glow surrounded Sansa's hand, encompassing the scars on Clegane's face. The boastful and smug sensation fled from the crown prince in an instant as the light grew brighter and brighter like a signal fire before suddenly disappearing. As Sansa lowered her hand, Ned was immediately on his feet and next to his daughter in an instant.

"I'm alright, father," Sansa said lowly, just loud enough for the two of them to truly hear her words as she fought against the exhaustion the act of healing had set upon her. "We…must not show weakness."

Nodding, and more than slightly proud of his daughter, Ned held his hand back and let Sansa stand on her own before the kneeling man. Turning, Sansa made a curtsey to the royal family as the murmuring in the hall began once again. "I hope that this display was satisfactory to the crown, your grace."

Blinking in confusion, Sandor raised a hand and touched at the scars on his face. Or, more accurately, where the scars on his face used to be. Rising quickly Sandor rushed to the nearest silver pitcher of water and picked it up so that he could stare at his reflection. The low murmuring of the crowd rose in volume as Sandor's now healed face was revealed to all. Lowering the pitcher back to the table, Sandor turned towards Sansa. The large man seemed at a complete loss for words as he beheld the young girl who had just taken away the scars that'd haunted him for nearly his entire life. Unable to come up with anything, Sandor dropped to a knee before Sansa and bowed his head lowly. "My lady…I…thank you."

Smiling, Sansa nodded before turning and making her way back to her seat. The only show of the toll that'd been taken on her was when she sat down a bit quicker than normal, and her posture laxed more than usual. But other than that, Sansa held her own, fighting against showing any weakness.

Leaning back in his own seat, Nox let his attention float over the royal family as Sandor, still touching his face, made his way back to his place amongst the guards. The King was pleased with the display, and at the same time furious with Joffrey for putting Sansa on the spot like that. The Queen was…interesting. The Queen was furious and…jealous and…buried within those emotions was a sense of desire. Not for Sansa herself, but for control. The Queen wanted to control Sansa. And the others. Letting his attention pass onto the Crown Prince, Nox frowned as he found that Joffrey had all the Force sensitivity of a rock. But despite his lack of Force sensitivity, he could easily sense the boy's frustration and anger at having his plan, if it could even be called that, backfire on him. And there was something else within the boy. Something Nox recognized. A desire to be recognized. But more concerning to Nox was the…cruelty he could sense within the boy. That cruelty, combined with the boy's intense desire for recognition was a bad combination. And there was something else. Something…off about the boy.

After training Gendry for years, he'd forged an Acolyte bond with the boy and knew the boy almost inside and out. And, despite only having a few interactions with the King over the years, he could sense aspects of the King within Gendry. Yet with Joffrey…he sensed none of it. The boy simply didn't…feel like the King. He was all his mother and then some. Not necessarily unheard of as children could often take after one parent more than the other. But for there to be next to nothing of the King within the boy was an oddity. Extending his senses over Tommen and Myrcella, his confusion was compounded as he once again failed to truly sense anything of the King within the children. 'Curious…' Nox thought, recognizing the implications of what he was sensing. He would have to find more of Robert's children to make sure of what he was sensing…but he was fairly certain he found the catalyst for the war in the south. A war that was unavoidable no matter what he did. The only thing he could do was make sure to minimalize the potential damage to his own when the war started.

---

Walking through the seemingly endless rows of tents while ignoring the sound of revelry coming from all around him, Ser Garlen Tyrell kept his hood up as he marched purposefully towards the outskirts of the sea of tents that'd been erected around Harrenhal to house all of those who'd made the trek to either participate or watch perhaps the greatest tournament that had ever been held in all of Westeros. It wasn't that he was trying to hide beneath his hood. It was just easier for one of his rank to make his way through the masses under a veil of anonymity. And because he was able to move about freely through the camp, his mind was able to wander back to the more than slightly strange interaction he'd just witnessed at the welcoming feast.

Honestly, he knew after just a single meeting with the Crown Prince that the future King, and his future good-brother should his father and grandmother have anything to say about it, that the boy wasn't necessarily the sharpest sword in the armory. But he was still young. There was still time for him to learn. But even taking his age into account, he couldn't believe that the Prince would outright challenge the Starks like that…and during a feast where all the Lords and Ladies of the Realm were gathered no less! It was clear that the Prince wished to either discredit or embarrass the Starks. But why? The Starks were quickly racing towards the top of the Great Houses of Westeros. Why would the Crown Prince risk alienating one of his most powerful vassals? Honestly, the move made no sense.

'Unless someone provoked him into going through with the challenge.' A small part of his mind whispered, causing his pace to falter as his mind began running through the scenario. 'Sansa met and exceeded the challenge. Proving the strength of the Starks. Lord Stark isn't one to make a move like that…perhaps Lord Nox? But no, the man had never even met the Crown Prince until just before the feast, he wouldn't have had time to provoke the Prince. And why target Sansa specifically? She's to be the future Lady of the Reach an—'

Garlen came to a full stop. Sansa was to be the future Lady of the Reach. And now everyone knew just how powerful she was and what an asset her gift would be. To the realm…but more specifically to House Tyrell in the future. 'Did grandmother have a hand in this?' he wondered. It would make sense, in a twisted sort of way that only his grandmother could figure out. The King still had strong ties to the Stark, who still had a daughter available. And despite showing off Margaery before the Prince, no formal betrothal discussions had even been hinted at. Perhaps she wanted to try and put a wedge between the Crown and the Starks? Prevent the King, or Lord Stark, from even considering the possibility of betrothing the second daughter, Arya, to the royal line?

'Enough,' Garlen shook himself, trying to remove thoughts of politics and the game from his mind. 'I don't have the mind or patience for the horse shite 'game' my family seems to love to play. Especially not tonight of all nights.'

The style and layout of the tents shifted as Garlen made his way further away from the walls of Harrenhal. Gone were the light fabric tents aligned in straight rows with ornaments and sigils decorating nearly every portion of the fabric. And instead, he found himself amongst a sea of thick wool and fur covered tents that, while not arranged in line either one another, were erected to give as much protection from the wind and cold as possible. 'About what I expected of the North,' Garlen thought with a smile as he walked into the heart of the Northern encampment. 'Practicality and survival above all the unnecessary aspects of—'

His thoughts died as he felt someone press against his back, something hard and sharp as a voice whispered into his ear. "What have we here? A fancy southern knight who dares to wander into the depths of the North yet neglects his surroundings enough to be caught off his guard. Tsk tsk…such a shame. Best be careful, pretty little knight. Men like you might just get stolen around here."

Despite the darkness and the knife against his back, Garlen smiled. A true smile. Not one that he usually forced upon himself when dealing with the simpering nobles and their daughters his father was constantly parading around him. "And what if being stolen, or stealing another, was exactly what I had in mind when I set foot in this camp?" he asked, turning his head just enough to see the face of the one behind him. "What would you say to that then, Karsi?"

Karsi's smirk was vicious, as was the fact that the dagger she held at his back suddenly began pressing just hard enough where it threatened to cut through his cloak and flesh if she pushed just the slightest bit harder. "I would wonder why you haven't stolen a pretty southern lass of yer own yet. Surely there were no shortages of these weak southern 'ladies' vying for yer attention?"

"There are some that have caught my attention, but nothing ever came of it because they all had one thing in common with each other."

One of Karsi's delicate brows rose as the dagger pressed just the slightest bit harder against his back. "And what be that?"

"None of them were you."

The pressure on his back was gone almost immediately as the dagger went back to Karsi's waist. Next he knew, Karsi had him on the ground with her hips straddling his own and her lips firmly pressed against his own. It took him all of two heartbeats to process what'd just happened, and when he did he acted on instinct, wrapping his arms around her strong back and pulling her down onto him, attacking her with the same ferocity that she was showing him.

There were more than a few calls and whistles coming from all around them as the need for air eventually drew the two of them apart. "Oh, go fuck yerselves or ye woman or man!" Karsi growled good naturedly at the crowd they had drawn with their antics. Getting to her feet, Karsi held her hand to help him off the ground. "Come, me girls have been wanting to see ya. And…and yer son as well."

A sudden knot formed in his gut with such intensity that he nearly doubled over before Karsi. His son. Their son. A son he'd known existed and had yet to even lay eyes on despite the fact that the boy must be nearing two years by this point. The knot was such that he was rendered completely speechless, able to do little more than follow Karsi like a lost puppy through the rows of Northern tents as she approached what he could only assume was her own tent. "How, um…a – are you participating in the tourney?"

He wanted to kick himself for the question as soon as it left his mouth. That was most certainly not what he wanted to ask her, and judging by the way she turned and looked back at him, she knew that it was not what he meant to ask either. "I was thinkin the dagger throwin. I can't ride one of them horses worth a shite nor do I have the armor like you fancy southern boys. But that really isn't what ya meant to ask me, is it?"

"No," Garlen freely admitted as Karsi slowed her pace and reached out towards a seemingly random fur and leather tent. He could hear laughter and voices coming from within. Two he recognized. The third…the third was the laughter of a child.

Forcing his fear and anxiety to the back of his mind, Garlen gave a quick nod to Karsi, who pulled aside the tent flap allowing the two to enter. "Mother!" Two voices called out as two young girls, whom he recognized as Karsi's girls from before they met.

The two young girls, their dark hair pulled back into simple braids, shot to their feet as they entered. Both took a step towards their mother, but when they saw him behind her, they both stopped. "Helga, Ansa…You both remember—"

"Papa Garlen!" the younger of the two, Ansa, yelled as she ran past her mother and wrapped her arms around his leg. But then, seemingly remembering herself, she pulled herself back, only to throw her little fist right into his gut with as much force as her little body could muster. "Where have ya been! Ya said you would come back to us! An—"

"And he's a southern knight, Ansa," the elder girl, Helga, said eyeing him warily. Though he could see just behind her eyes that she was fighting with herself. "He got what he wanted…and left us."

"Not…Not by choice, girls," Garlen said sadly as he knelt so that he was eye level with them both. "If I had a choice, I would have never left any of you. I swear on my honor and life that I will do better this time. But, if it would make you feel better, Helga…I won't defend myself."

Spreading his arms, Garlen braced himself for whatever the elder girl was about to doll out to him. But instead of hitting him, she ran forward and wrapped him tightly in an embrace. "Me first pa died in the cold in the true north long before we came south of the Wall. Then you…you left us," Helga said, tears breaking her voice as Garlen returned her embrace. "Don't…Don't leave us again like this…not again."

"I won't," he promised, holding out his arm for Ansa, who immediately joined her sister in their shared embrace. "I swear to you both…I will do better this time."

"Ye better," Helga nodded, breaking away from him. "Cause it won't be just 'us' that you'll be abandonin next time."

Looking up, Garlen noticed Karsi standing before him. A small boy in her arms. Rising slowly, Garlen slowly approached the young boy, his son, who seemed to want to shrink into his mother as he approached. "Um, gods…Hello, young man," Garlen said awkwardly. 'Gods…how does one greet their own son after not being there for his birth nor for the first few years of his life?!'

"His name isn't 'young man', it's Garion," Karsi said, hefting the boy up slightly so that he could get a better look at him. The lad had Karsi's hair and pale complexion. But his eyes were all Tyrell.

"Garion," Garlen repeated, almost savoring the name on his lips like it was the finest of wines. "That's…that's a good name. A strong name for a strong lad."

"He takes after his father in that regard…which is why I gave him his name." Karsi said, seemingly apprehensive as she edged their son closer towards him. "Garion, this is your father, Ser Garlen Tyrell of da Reach."

Garlen stared down at his son, his son! The boy was clearly unsure, but also curious as he slowly reached out for Garlen. "Da…Daddy?"

And with that one word, Garlen's world as he knew it ended. Forget his family's politics. Forget those simpering 'Ladies' that were trying desperately for his attention. None of them meant anything to him anymore. The only thing that mattered was Karsi, her daughters, and their son in her arms. "That's right, Garion," Garlen smiled, holding out his hands, to which Garion immediately pushed himself into allowing Garlen to hold him for the first time. "I'm your father, lad…and I'm not going anywhere."

---

Each step her horse took was near agony at this point. But as Dany rode behind her husband at the head of their khalasar she kept her head held high and the pain off her face. Soon. It had to be soon. She could feel her son moving almost constantly now. And he'd shifted, sitting more on her hips, a sign she was told that spoke of his imminent arrival according to her handmaidens. 'But not imminent enough,' Dany cursed as her horse bounced slightly, causing a jolt of pain to race through her. 'I swear…Drogo will be spilling his seed outside of me from here on out! I do not know if I ever want to go through this again!'

Feeling a new pain race through, one that had her gasping for breath and cradling her womb, Dany stared down with wide eyes. 'That…That was no bump in the road!' Feeling another tightening of pain, Dany nearly fell from her saddle as she grasped the saddle horn for dear life. "My sun and stars!" she gasped, holding her stomach and looking up towards her husband's strong back. "We need to stop a—"

Her words faded as her husband, the great Khal Drogo, slumped forward in his saddle and fell face first onto the dirt road.

Dany was in such shock at seeing her husband, the great Khal Drogo, fall from his saddle that she didn't remember jumping from her own until her feet touched the ground. But before she could even take a single step towards her sun and stars, her body betrayed her as she felt her body convulse, causing her to nearly double over as pain raced through her accompanied by the sudden feeling of wetness running down her thighs.

She was vaguely aware of several people surrounding her, holding onto her and supporting her as more than one voice called out for a tent to be set up immediately for both herself and her husband. Dany tried to clear her head, tried to figure out what was going on, but she could not think through the pain pulsing through her body. "The child is coming."

She wanted to laugh and scold the one who said something so obvious. But again her pain prevented her from doing anything more than crying out in agony as she was led inside a hastily erected tent and laid down on several mats that'd been thrown on the ground for her. She felt her leggings being removed and her legs bent and set so that she was exposed to any and all within the tent. Her world faded into a haze of pain that seemed to last an eternity…or maybe a few hours. It was hard to tell for certain after the first ten or so minutes. But through the pain, she could see her handmaidens, her friends, surrounding her and giving her smiles of support as they told her to breathe and push.

More pain pulsed within her as she gripped tightly onto the hands of her handmaidens and cried out as a new pain, a pressure, unlike any she'd ever felt pressed against her opening. "The child, it's head is coming."

Looking down, she saw the old woman who'd seen to the treatment of her husband sitting between her legs with Irri next to her. But something was…Something was not right. She…The old woman…She felt…conviction. Pleasure, well…Maybe not pleasure but…but she was pleased to see her in…in pain? No…No, that couldn't… But then, in a brief moment of lucidity, Dany felt it. The anger. The hate. The darkness within the woman. And…And her intent. She didn't know how but…Dany knew that this woman intended harm upon both herself and her child fighting to enter the world.

"Out! Away!" She screamed, trying to back away from the old woman.

"Khaleesi! Please, breathe—"

"Get her out!" Dany screamed, the Force reacting to her will as the old woman was flung backwards and nearly out of the tent. "Hold her an—ah! Do–Do not let her – let her leave!"

Wailing, Dany's head lulled back as she felt her child press against her again and again as it fought it's way into the world. Just as Dany thought the pain couldn't get any worse, she felt all the pressure and pain within her leave at once. Then there was nothing but darkness.

---

Robb knew the moment he'd awoken with his arms around Talisa and his front pressed tightly against her back that his sisters and Lord Nox were no longer within the confines of Harrenhal. Of course, he knew well beforehand that Nox was going to the Isle of Faces, it was why he'd insisted on bringing along the last memento from Bran the Builder as apparently he'd managed to decipher that the Founder of House Stark's last creation was somewhere on the small island. He also knew that Nox was planning on putting the girls and Gendry through their Trials soon. He just hadn't put together that his Master would think to do both at the same time and all at once! Let alone the day after the welcoming feast and the supposed start of the greatest tournament Westeros had ever seen!

Pressing a kiss to his wife's bare shoulder, Robb's body betrayed him as it immediately responded to the light moan that left her as he trailed his lips from her shoulder and to her neck. "I would've thought you had your fill of me last night, Robb." Talisa said throatily as she reached behind herself, her fingers entangling in his hair as he continued pressing light kisses to her skin.

"I can never get enough of you." Robb breathed heavily, fully intending on picking up exactly where they left off the previous night but was ultimately stopped as he heard his father's voice call for him from outside his tent.

"Robb, Talisa. Make yourselves ready. The King has summoned us. I will go ahead to see what the matter is, but your presence is expected soon."

Groaning, Robb let his head drop as Talisa laughed lightly while working her way out from under him. "There will be time for this later, Robb," his wife said, rising from their shared cot and picking through her clothes and finding something that she deemed acceptable for an audience with the King. "Your King, much like my father, is not one to be kept waiting."

Conceding her point, Robb quickly got up and went about getting dressed. Once they were both ready, with Talisa taking a moment to straighten his hair, the two set out arm in arm from his tent and out into the sea of tents and people that'd made camp around Harrenhal. Technically with their position as Wardens of the North, House Stark had been permitted rooms within the halls of Harrenhal, but his father had declined their usage. Starks always stayed with the men and women of the North whether they were going to war or to a fanciful southern tourney. Almost immediately, a pair of Stark guards flanked Robb and Talisa, trailing the two as they made their way into the mass of bodies on their way towards Harrenhal.

Robb was, frankly, very near the edge of being overwhelmed by everything going on around him. Merchants were out selling everything from food, wine, horses, armor and more. Carriers were out in mass, trying to gain the people's attention for one reason or another. Fools and mummers were out in mass trying their best to entertain the masses in hopes of earning a few coins. And despite the day just barely beginning whores, both men and women, were already standing beside various tents, flaunting their 'wares' in hopes of enticing a patron or two.

"A bit much for your delicate Northern sensibility, my love?" Talisa teased him good naturedly as they daftly sidestepped a painted fool who was walking on his hands much to the joy of a few children that were watching him.

"Just a bit," Robb nodded.

Smiling, Talisa leaned into him. "Such sights and liveliness are almost daily occurrences in Volantis, provided you know where to go. But don't worry. When we go to Volantis I'll do my utmost to make sure you are not overwhelmed by the sights and sounds."

"'When we go'?" Robb questioned, repeating what Talisa had just said to him.

"Aye. When we go," she nodded. "I…have my problems with my homeland. And I know you will as well. But it is still my place of birth. And I will not have you…nor our children…remain completely ignorant of my place of birth."

The thought of traveling to Volantis and dealing with Essos was completely put aside when Talisa mentioned children. Their children. Children they'd yet to have, though not for lack of trying on their part. And while both of them did want children, and not only because it was part of their duty to provide the next generation of Starks, they were not necessarily in a hurry to have them. At seven-and-ten he knew that there were many out there that already had a child…but still. It was… It was a lot to think about. To be responsible for helping to bring a new life into the world? To helping to raise them and see them to adulthood? Gods…how did his father handle it? How did any parent handle it?

Thoughts of children and their future disappeared as Robb felt something from the Force. Without looking, he raised his hand in defense of his wife, and his open palm was struck with something soft and warm. 'What the…shit? Who the?' Completely dumbfounded, Robb could do little more than stare at his shit covered hand.

"Blasphemer! Heretic! Sorcerer uses his vile powers to protect his foreign heathen whore of a wife!"

Blinking, Robb looked up at the sound of the voice, and found a man wearing the robes of a Septon glaring at him from a short distance away. A small crowd was gathered around him, each of them looking at him with contempt. Robb's vision went dark as he lowered his hand. A rage he had only felt when his mother was assassinated consuming him as he advanced on the Septon and the crowd surrounding him. "Look! His eyes! Truly a heathen demon from the Seven Hells! A blasphemer against the true gods! The Seven-Who-Are-One!" the Septon cried as Robb quickly advanced on the crowd, the other small folk all but tripping over themselves as they tried to clear a path between himself and the Septon.

Robb had no idea what he was going to do when he reached the Septon, but his rage would not be denied! He could handle insults thrown at himself…but this…this man insulted his wife! The woman he loved! He, or one of his followers, threw literal shit at her! They – They would pay! He would cut them down one by one! Raise their severed heads high as a show of what happened when you tried to—

His actions were halted as he reached for his lightsaber at his hip, only to find Talisa's hand already there. Turning, he found his wife staring at him unblinkingly. "This is what he wants, Robb," Talisa said lowly enough so that only the two of them could hear. "Do not be the monster he claims you to be. Be the man, the good man, that I know you are."

Her words cleared the raged-induced fog that'd settled over his mind. He was still angry. Hells, he was pissed. But her words were helping him think clearly now through his rage. Stepping up to the Septon, Robb was mildly impressed as the older man held his ground. Raising his hand, the crowd drew a collective breath, no doubt expecting him to strike the man, but instead all he did was use the man's robes to clean the shit off his hand. "Say what you will about myself…but insult my wife again and I will take this matter before the King," Robb said calmly, far calmer than he'd thought possible considering how furious he was at the man. "And should the King hear of your actions…I promise you…you will face Northern justice."

Turning his back on the Septon was one of the hardest things he'd ever done, but he knew that right then, it was the right thing to do. Especially as he saw the look of respect and awe that were present on most, if not all, of the smallfolks' faces surrounding them. "You – You see! The – The heathen is but a coward in the face of the Seven! In the face of the true go—"

Robb blocked the man's ranting as he retook Talisa's arm and made his way away from the ranting Septon and towards the towering walls of Harrenhal. "You did the right thing, Robb," Talisa commented as they entered the overly excessive keep. "That Septon was trying to goad you into doing something reckless. He had the crowd worked up, and had you done anything to him, he would've used your actions to further cast the North and her people in an ill light."

"I know…at least now I do." Robb admitted as he turned his gaze towards his wife. "Thank you, for stopping me. If he'd managed to hit you with that shit, I – gods… I don't even want to think what I would've done if not for you."

Talisa favored him with a smile as the two entered the main keep of Harrenhal. Almost immediately, the two were met by a member of the Kingsguard that Robb didn't recognize before being escorted out of the great hall and towards the back where Robb assumed the royal chambers lay. After escorting them to a set of large double doors, where two more Kingsguard were located including the legendary Ser Barristan Selmy, they were immediately ushered through the doors and into the room beyond. Inside the room, Robb found himself immediately the target of five sets of eyes. His father's. The King's. Lord Tywin Lannister's, a still pacing Lord Gerion Lannister. And the sole woman in the room, Lady Nyra Nox. "Well Ned, here's your boy," the King said with a wave of his hand. "Now will you tell us where the fuck the Sorcerer and the kids disappeared to before Gerion here paces a fucking hole into the ground?"

Lord Gerion immediately came to a stop, but Robb could tell the man was very, very agitated. "Forgive me, your grace…but I have not seen my daughter for near a year's time. And now after only spending one night with her, I wake to find her missing with no explanation as to her whereabouts."

"I understand your frustration, my Lord," Robb said, trying to be as diplomatic as possible. "Lord Nox has taken your daughter, and his other acolytes including my sisters, to the Isle of Faces so that they can participate in their Trials."

"Trials?" Lord Tywin asked first, the older man's hard gaze was almost enough to make Robb uneasy. "I have heard the term before in terms of an aspect of your training, but nothing of substance. Perhaps you might enlighten us as to what these 'Trials' are, Lord Robb, seeing as how you and your brother are the only two known to have completed them."

Robb glanced towards his father, who gave him the briefest of nods, before answering Lord Tywin's question. "The Trials determine whether an Acolyte is ready to become a full Apprentice, my Lord. Think of it like raising a Page to the position of a Squire. As for what the Trials themselves entail…that varies based on the person undergoing them."

"So Nox crafts each of these 'Trials' for each Acolyte then eh?" The King asked, to which Robb shook his head.

"No, your grace. Well, perhaps slightly. But it is in fact the will of the Force that determines one's Trials." Robb could tell that the other men in the room did not necessarily believe his words, but he didn't care. He knew that his words were true. And if they didn't want to believe him, then that was on them.

"Are these Trials…dangerous?" Lord Gerion asked tentatively, seemingly afraid of the answer.

"They are," Robb answered almost without thought.

As soon as the words left him, Robb realized his mistake as a haunted look passed over Lord Gerion's face and the King's face went hard. But before he could correct himself, Lady Nox stepped forward to reassure the King and the two Lords. "My husband may be many things your grace, my Lords. But he is not a cruel nor wasteful man. And he cares for his Acolytes as much as any parent would care for their children. He would not put anyone on the path to their Trials if he did not believe they could succeed. Lord Stark's daughters, Lord Gerion's daughter, his grace's niece and…and his grace's bastard son will return. And they will return as full Force Apprentices. We need only wait."

The King and the two Lannister Lords all shared a look with one another. "How long till they return?" The King asked.

"I cannot answer that truthfully, your grace." Robb answered. "My own Trial took near a sennights time. But most of that was spent traversing the length of the Wall on my own. While my brother's Trial took less than half a day at best. But if I were pressed to say…I would expect Lord Nox and the newly made Apprentices to return within a few days' time at the longest."

"Good," the King said with a nod. "Gives me time to kill some things in a hunt then while we wait for the rest of the slow fuckers to get their asses here. Ned, Gerion. You two are coming with me. Hunting, killing and drinking will help take your minds off of this 'Trial' shit until your girls and my…well until they all return."

His father and Lord Gerion both nodded mildly uncomfortably. While normally one could turn down such an offer, when the demand to go hunting came from the King, you went hunting regardless if you wanted too or not. Curiously enough, Lord Tywin didn't seem to mind being left out of the hunt. Though honestly the man could probably give even Robb's own father lessons on impersonating a stone for all the emotions he was giving off. Both on his face and through the Force. Gods. The only other man Robb had ever met that had such control over himself was Lord Nox! If Robb didn't already know from his father to be wary of Lord Tywin, he knew it now.

---

Awareness slowly came back to Dany as she fought against the darkness clouding her vision. Blinking her eyes, she stared up at the canvased tent directly above her. 'How did I get here?' she wondered, moving slightly to stretch her body. 'By the gods…what happened to me? Everything is sore an—'

"Khaleesi! Oh, thank the great stallion you are awake!"

Blinking, Dany tilted her head to the side, just barely able to make out the blurred form of Irri, who was kneeling by her side with a wet cloth in her hand. "Irri?" she croaked. By gods her throat was dry. "W—Water."

Irri nodded as she immediately set about gathering a cup before helping Dany sit up so that she could drink. By the Force! Why did she feel so…weak? "Drink Khaleesi. It was a tough birth, but you proved yourself strong."

Birth? Her hands went to her stomach. The swell of her child was gone. Shaking and near frantic, Dany looked about the tent. "Rhaego! Where's my son?! Where is—?!"

"He is here, Khaleesi."

Turning, the mere act of which made Dany lightheaded to the point of nearly collapsing again. Dany saw Doreah sitting behind her, a bundle of cloths in her arms. Everything faded from Dany's sight, save for the small bundle in Doreah's arms. The child, her child, her son, was sleeping soundly within the warmth of the clothes covering him. Taking him gently from Doreah, Dany immediately felt a…it…well it was hard to describe what she felt. But she knew beyond a doubt that she loved this small bundle in her arms more than anything else in the entire world at this moment. As if he felt the movement, her son blinked and opened his eyes. His dark eyes moved around almost randomly before settling on her and only her. "Rhaego…my son," Dany was near in tears as she held her son. "Your father must be so proud." Drogo…her husband. Her sun and stars. Why was he not here holding their son? He was perhaps even more excited about his impending birth than she had been.

Tearing her eyes off her son, a feat that was far harder than she could've ever thought possible, she turned her attention to her two handmaidens. Neither of whom were looking at her or her son as they seemed to find the studying of their hands extremely important. "Doreah. Irri." Dany said clearly, eyeing the two women. "Where is my husband, your Khal?"

Getting to their feet, Doreah and Irri came up to either side of her and helped her rise to her feet while still holding onto her son. "It…It would be far easier to show you, Khaleesi," Irri said sadly, and in a tone that made Dany suddenly extremely wary.

"No." she said, taking a step back from the two and glaring at them. "Where. Is. Drogo?"

"Khaleesi…my lady…Dany," the last made Dany blink, Doreah had never used her actual name before. "The great Khal…your husband…has passed on to the realm of the gods."

"What?" Dany breathed, unable or unwilling to believe what she was hearing. "How…That can't…He couldn't…"

"It was the wound, Khaleesi," Irri said slowly as Dany felt her world crumble around her and her son. "It…festered and fevered. When he fell from his horse, the fever had taken too strong of a hold. And with you on the birthing bed…there was nothing anyone could do, Khaleesi. The Great Stallion came and claimed the great Khal. And now the khalasar has broken as a new Khal attempts to take the place of a man who cannot be replaced."

Dany felt her knees go weak, and if it were not for the quick actions of Doreah and Irri, she would've collapsed right there and then. 'Drogo…no. My…My sun and stars…We were going to remake Essos…Rebuild what was lost. And now, now is it all lost without you? Your bloodriders…Your brothers…Our khalasar that was going to reshape Essos…Broken and fighting amongst themselves before your body was even cold.' Hearing a cry from her arms, Dany looked down at her son. Their son. Her last link to her husband. 'No.' Dany thought, feeling a steely resolve come over her as she gently cooed and rocked her son. 'No. This is not the end. I will not let it be the end! I will rebuild what was lost…what was taken from me! I will not let my dream…our dream…die with you, my sun and stars. I will rebuild that which was lost! By blood and fire…I will reclaim that which was lost! But first…'

"How many are left?" Dany asked, her voice sounding far calmer than she felt.

"Barely two dozen, Khaleesi," Doreah answered. "Rakharo is the only one of your bloodriders who survived as many sought to bring you back to Vaes Dothrak as Dosh Khaleen, despite you still being on the birthing bed. Ser Jorah the Andal remains. The old bear felled twice the number as Rakharo in his defense of you and the khalakka. Besides them, there are few who know how to fight. Most who stayed are amongst those you claimed from the Lhazareen village that was taken."

"I see," Dany thought. Far less than what she'd hoped for. But far more than what she'd had before her marriage to Drogo. "And the one who said that she could heal my husband? The one I banished from aiding my son being born?"

"The witch, Mirri Maz Dur she calls herself," Irri answered, hatred clear in her voice. "She attempted to flee after you threw her from the tent. But Ser Jorah the Andal stopped her and had her bound and gagged."

Nodding, Dany motioned for Irri and Doreah to help her to her feet. "Take me to her. Now."

Irri left her side to hold open the tent, leaving Doreah to be the only support Dany had. Which, much to her shame, she admittedly needed as each step was like walking through thick mud with each twitch of her legs causing a dull ache near her core. Walking out into the sun, Dany immediately spotted Ser Jorah and Rakharo, both men standing guard just outside her tent with their hands firmly attached to the hilt of their weapons. "Khaleesi," both men breathed, bowing their heads to her as she stepped forward with Doreah's silent aid.

Dany nodded to both men as her gaze swept over those who remained with her. Doreah was right. Perhaps two dozen at most remained. And that was all. "Ser Jorah, Rakharo. I, and my son, owe you both for standing vigil while we were at our weakest," Dany said to the both of them in Dothraki, given that Rakharo's understanding of the common tongue was still minimal at best. "Merely name your desire, and I will see it done."

Ser Jorah immediately went a knee before her and drew his sword, placing the tip in the ground. "I merely wish to serve at the Khaleesi's side, from this day to my last."

Accepting the offer, Dany turned to Rakharo. "I'm not as…good with words as the Andal here. But Rahkaro will stay by the Khaleesi's side, no matter where she goes."

"I…Your offer is accepted. Both of you." Dany said, stumbling for a moment as she'd forgotten one of the first things she'd learned about the Dothraki language, that they did not have a word for 'thank you'. "Now…where is the witch?"

Ser Jorah silently led her over to another tent. Holding the flap aside for her, Dany saw that the old woman she'd claimed was sitting in the center of the tent, bound with multiple lengths of rope tied so tightly she doubted the woman could move. Ducking her head, she entered the tent with Ser Jorah and Doreah flanking her and her son still in her arms. The moment she entered; the old woman looked up at her. Her eyes glanced first to Dany, then to the bundle in her arms. Anger and…disappointment rolled off the woman so thickly it almost threatened to choke Dany. Turning, she handed Rhaego off to Doreah and began to slowly circle the bound woman as she pulled on the one lesson Lord Nox had given her about interrogation. 'There are two options available to a Force user when they wish to interrogate an individual. The first option is to dominate the individual using a constant stream of the Force to press against their mind. The process must be done slowly and carefully. Put too much pressure on the individual, and you can potentially render them brain dead, and they will then be useless to you. The second option is to use the Force to bring pain upon the individual. In short, torture. To do this you have to hate, truly hate, the one you are interrogating. You must let your hate consume you and you must want to hurt the individual.'

Dany did not know if she could, or even wanted, to use such methods as torture right now. So, instead, she used the Force to gently press down on the woman's mind, not unlike what she did when she used the Force to 'persuade' an individual. The difference being when she did her persuasion it was akin to a poke in the direction she wanted the person's thoughts to go. Whereas what she was doing now was similar to pressing her hand down upon the woman's skull, firm but not overly painful…yet. "You offered to heal my husband, to keep the wound from festering. You did not. Why?"

The old woman just glared up at her. Dany increased the pressure slightly, which made the woman shake her head. "You have talent, girl, more so than what I was told," the witch said in the common tongue, surprising Dany as she did not know that the woman could speak it. "But I have been practicing the mystic arts since before you were born. And this little…trick of yours is nothing more than a slight nuisance. Nothing more."

Frowning, Dany pressed harder against the woman. The old witch closed her eyes, and Dany felt something pushing back against her. "It is worthless, girl. And pointless," the witch snarled. "I will tell you why I aided your husband in passing. Though the fact you must ask shows just how naive you truly are. You two and your khalasar raided my village. Killed my friends and family. Why would I not seek his life in retribution?"

Pulling her power back, Dany felt herself nearly shake in anger. "I saved you!"

"Saved me?" The witch spat angrily. "By the time you 'saved' me, three men had already mounted me and used me for their twisted desires. No, girl…You did not 'save' me. And the only regret I have is that I could not take your brat's life as well!"

Her words pierced her. She was…By the gods, she was right. It was…beyond foolish to trust the welfare of her husband to a woman whose village they'd just taken. By the gods…why? Why had she done that? "So that's why then?" Dany asked lowly. "Revenge. Revenge for yourself…Revenge for your village."

The witch smirked. "Need I have any other reason, girl?"

The words were so…callous, so vicious, that Dany was ready to kill the woman then and there. But just as she was about to raise her hand to strike her down, she…felt something. Yes, this witch killed her husband and wanted to kill her son for revenge. But there was something…else. Something more. "There is more," Dany said, making the woman's cruel smile falter. "Something you're not telling me."

The witch scoffed. "I've told you all you need to know, girl. What more reasons do I need to kill a Khal who saw to the razing of my village?"

There it was again. Something buried deep. But not deep enough. "You're lying," Dany said, resisting the urge to smirk as she felt a spike of fear from the witch. "There is something else. Another reason you have for wanting to kill my husband and my son. Tell me."

The witch kept her lips sealed, refusing to respond. Turning, she glanced towards Doreah. "Take my son out of here. I do not wish him to witness what is about to happen." Doreah nodded and made a hasty retreat, leaving Dany alone with the witch, Ser Jorah, and Rakharo.

"You need not sully your hands with this task, Khaleesi," Rakharo said, stepping forward and placing his hand on his dagger. "I can make her talk."

"No," Dany responded, drawing on her anger—no, her fury—at what this woman had done to her husband and wanted to do to her son. "I have sentenced this woman…so I shall do this."

She was so focused on the witch that she didn't notice the slight intake of breath from Ser Jorah, nor the slight narrowing of his eyes as she squatted down before the witch. "You are going to die, witch," Dany said, her fury lacing through her voice and making it almost so even Dany couldn't recognize her own voice. "The only choice you have before you die is how much pain you wish to endure before you meet your end. Whatever reason you have for killing my husband and wishing harm upon my son…I will have it. One way or another."

The woman kept her silence as she glared defiantly at Dany.

"So be it," Dany growled as she stood back up, drawing on every spec of anger and fury that was coursing through her veins. She felt…embracing this anger, this fury. It was…invigorating. Her heart raced as she raised her hand. She wanted…no…She needed this woman to suffer! She killed her husband! She wanted to kill her son! And Dany would see her scream in agon—

The tent flashed brightly as the space between Dany and the witch was filled with thunder and lightning. While under any normal circumstance Dany would be shocked and fearful of the lightning flying from her hands, right now all she felt was anger! And her anger helped her ignore the surprise of what she was doing and give purpose to the lightning. The witch screamed in agony as the lightning descended upon her. Her binds stretching as the witch screamed and wreathed on the floor, trying desperately to escape the torment Dany was laying upon her but unable to do so. Through her anger, she knew, though she didn't know how, that if she kept going she would kill the witch. So, with great effort, Dany ceased her attack, leaving the witch a twitching mess on the ground.

Ignoring the moans of agony coming from the witch, and the bewildered and slightly fearful looks from Ser Jorah and Rakharo, Dany knelt before the witch. Small wisps of smoke were rising from her person. The smell of burned flesh and the unmistaken smell of someone who'd soil themselves filled the air around the witch. Reaching out, Dany roughly grabbed the witch's still chin and forced her to look at her. Her eyes, once defiant, were now filled with fear and pain. Yes…this was what she wanted! This was what she needed! "Tell me. Why did you kill my husband and seek to kill my son?"

When the witch still didn't answer, Dany raised her free hand once more, lightning already starting to dance between her fingers. "No!" the witch cried, trying to flinch away from her. "I – I was paid!"

The lightning died in her hand. "Paid? By whom and why?"

Her secret out, the witch lowered her head. "I – I don't know who or why…It—It was a traveling merchant from the west who came to our village. He—He said he would pay me my weight in gold and promised to move myself and those I loved away from the threat of the Dothraki. He…He knew that I was a magi and he…he paid me to use whatever means I had to kill your husband and…and your child. But you…you were to be left alive no matter what."

Dany's anger, still racing through her, dulled slightly as she rose to her feet. Without a word, she turned heel and walked from the tent, Jorah and Rakharo close behind her. Once outside, she saw that those who had chosen to stay with her were all gathered around the tent. All of them looking at her with a mixture of fear and respect. Turning towards Doreah, Dany took her son back from her friend and handmaiden. "See to it that a pyre worthy of my husband is built." She commanded calmly as she carried her son towards her tent. "We will send him to the great stallion at nightfall…along with the one who took him from us all."

No one said anything as she entered her tent, her son still in her arms. When she reached her cot, she all but collapsed onto it. Staring down at her son, the full weight of what she'd just done hit her like a maul. She didn't even realize that she was shaking, nor that she was crying until she saw her tears fall upon her son's sleeping face. Raising him to her breast, Dany held on tightly to her son as the bundle of raw emotion she'd been keeping held at bay burst forth, nearly causing her to double over in agony as she cried and held her son like he was the only thing that could help her keep her mind.

---

Dropping down into the dark pit in front of her, Arya Stark strained her eyes as she tried to stare into the dark tunnel that led beneath one of the weirwood trees on the Isle of Faces. While she could feel…something coming this way, the truth of the matter was that she had no idea just what she was looking for! Not that she would ever admit it. But she was utterly and completely lost! And she'd been this way now for two days! Two days of wandering around the Isle of Faces after Lord Nox woke her, her sister, Joy, Shireen and the wool-head up just before dawn and dragged them off without any warning whatsoever! Then when they got to the Isle of Faces, something that had excited Arya to no end, Lord Nox calmly told them that they were on their own and that they 'would know what they were looking for once they found it'. Then he turned his back on them, saying that he had something else he needed to find, just before all but disappearing into the thick tree line just off the waterfront.

Honestly! Could he not tell them any more than that! Oh wait, he did. That not only would they have to search for something that they didn't even know what it was! But that they would also have to do it alone! And without any food or water! Luckily, she'd managed to find a stream of water and some plants that she remembered learning were safe to eat so that part wasn't so bad. But still, she'd been wandering around for days and she still had no clue what she was looking for! The only hope she'd had was when she woke this morning and felt…something at the edges of the Force. Something that'd led her to an old weirwood that had some sort of small cave going beneath the roots that was just large enough for her to fit into.

'When I get back…I'm going to kick Lord Nox right in the shins!' Arya swore to herself as she pressed her hand against the roots of the weirwood that made up the strange tunnel she was standing in. 'Well…no use in just standing here. Certainly not going to find whatever it is that…Lord…what…why is it…cold? So…so cold? Wh—?'

Arya had only a moment's notice before she felt, rather than saw, something coming straight for her face from the darkness. Her body, honed by her time spent in the yard under Lord Nox's tutelage, moved on instinct as she bent backwards to the point where her hands touched the ground and she flipped backwards, whatever it was that'd come from the darkness passing harmlessly through where her head had once been, but still close enough that she could feel the air move in the darkness as it passed.

Landing on her feet, Arya's left hand went from the ground to the small dagger she kept at her waist. In the blink of an eye, Arya had turned herself, her dagger held tightly in her left hand, as she stared hard into the darkness that'd swallowed up whatever it was that'd just attacked her. "Attacking from the shadows! How cowardly! Come out and face me!" she yelled into the darkness.

She was met with nothing but darkness again. But just as she was about to put her dagger away, she heard it. A low rumbling that slowly grew. Gripping her dagger tightly, Arya strained her eyes towards the source of the noise. In darkness, she could see the vaguest of outlines. It was…a person…no. A child? Whoever or whatever it was…it was no taller than her. And it made no noise as it took a step towards her, prompting her to take a step back in return. "Attacking from the shadows is 'cowardly'. How ironic coming from you, girl."

Brandishing her dagger, Arya motioned for the person, no, the young woman judging by her voice, to stay away from her. "Who are you?!" She yelled at the figure, still cloaked by the darkness around them.

The figure laughed again as it took another step closer, just enough so that the light from the entrance of the tunnel illuminated her face. She was…a young woman, perhaps no older than Ygritte. But short, as short as Arya was. Yet there was also something…familiar about her. Though what that was Arya had no idea because she could not remember ever meeting this girl. The girl seemed to realize it as well as she smiled at Arya. "You don't recognize me, do you? Not surprising, girl. But maybe…this will help."

Arya watched in curiosity as the young woman raised a hand to her face, palm towards herself and fingers spread wide enough to cover her face almost completely. When her hand moved again, Arya gasped and took another step backwards. The young woman was gone. And in her place was one of the stable boy's she recognized from Winterfell. "Or perhaps this?" The woman raised her hand again, only for her face to change again as it passed by, this time whatever it was before her now looked exactly like Lady Nox! "Or perhaps this one…it is a face I have not worn in some time…but I believe even you should recognize this one."

This time when the things hand lowered, Arya nearly dropped her dagger. Standing before her was…herself. Slightly older, but Arya knew her own face when she saw it. "Who, no, what are you?!" Arya all but shouted, fighting against the sudden urge she felt to bury her dagger as deep as she could into the thing's chest.

The thing wearing her face just smiled and spread her arms wide, "I'm you silly. Or at least I was. Then I cut my ties and became something more. Something far greater. I became No one and everyone."

Blinking, Arya stayed on guard as best she could, her eyes tracking every movement the thing before her made. "Wh – that makes no sense!" She yelled at the thing. "You can't just be no one and everyone! That just…it just doesn't make sense!"

Sighing the thing shook its head. "That's because you are too sheltered. Can't believe this one was ever like this. Not that I blame the girl. Your father, your siblings, Lord Nox. They all know what you can do, what you are capable of. And they're holding you back because they fear what you can become! Don't you see? You can be anyone, do anything you want!" As if to prove its point, the thing raised a hand to it's face, her face disappeared and was replaced by her sister's. "This one knows how much you wanted to be your sister, well now you can! You can be whatever you want, whoever you want! This one cut their ties with what they once were and now this one can become anyone and anything they desire! And you can as well…you just need to take that first step. Leave it all behind. Become 'no one', so that you can become everyone! And once you do, no one will be able to stop you. Lord Nox. Your father. Your brother's and sister. Everyone that held you back will be but memories. And you will have the life you always wanted."

This was…this was all she ever wanted and more! The chance to prove herself! To be more than just what others told her she was! She could do anything she wanted, go anywhere. But if she did, if she followed what this thing was saying…then she would have to give up her family. Her brothers. Her sister. Her father. Her friends. Everyone. Gone.

'We are who we choose to be, not what others define us to be.' She wanted to make the plunge. To take the offer this thing was giving her. She'd even begun shifting her weight to take that step. But the words of Lord Nox stopped her cold. His words were followed quickly by her father's. 'When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies. But the pack survives.' Her mother's voice, sweet and caring flowed next. 'Family, duty, honor. Family comes first because it is the most important of all. Above duty, above honor. Family must be considered first and foremost.'

Straightening her back, she glared at the figure before her. The smirk that'd been on it's face slowly melted away as Arya brought her dagger back up before her. "I…I am Arya Stark of Winterfell. Daughter of Lord Eddard Stark and Acolyte of Lord Nox. And will forge my own path as my own person. Not as a no one."

The figure before her glared hatefully at her. "We shall see…Arya Stark of Winterfell."

Eyes snapping open with a start, Arya stared at the blood red leaves of a weirwood swaying in the breeze overhead. Scrambling to her feet, Arya snatched her dagger from the sheath at her waist and looked around wildly. She was no longer in the cave beneath the weirwood. She was above ground…in the same small grove she'd woken up in before finding the tunnel. 'What…What happened? What—Where…Was…Gods…What is happening?'

Moving cautiously back to where she'd laid her head, Arya noticed something. A light glow coming from the exposed roots of the weirwood near to where she'd been laying. Glancing around the grove and not seeing anyone nearby, Arya slowly put her dagger away and went to a knee near to where the glowing was coming from. There, nestled in the roots of the weirwood tree was a small glowing gem perhaps the size of her thumb. And what was strange about it, more so than the fact that she was certain that it hadn't been there when she'd laid down, was the fact that she could feel the gem through the Force, almost as if it was calling out for her to take it.

Taking the small gem in hand, Arya smiled widely as she felt a sense of fulfillment and excitement pass through her. This…This was it! She'd done it! She'd passed her 'Trial'! And now she was a full Apprentice! Just like Jon and Robb!

Hearing the breaking of a branch, Arya closed her hands around the gem, holding it protectively to her chest as she whipped around to face whoever or whatever was coming towards her.

Standing right next to the weirwood she'd been sleeping next to was no one else but her silly sister Sansa. Who, Arya noted, was covered in dirt and even had a few tears in the dressed she'd chosen to wear the day Lord Nox took them away from Harrenhal. "Sansa," she breathed, keeping her fingers closed tightly around the gem in her hand. "Gods, you look like—"

That was as far as she got as Sansa all but lunged towards her. Arya braced herself for the attack, but her sister didn't attack her. Instead, Sansa nearly collapsed against her, pulling her into the tightest hug Arya could ever remember receiving as her sister bawled her eyes out. "Oh gods Arya! I – Oh gods, I'm so sorry! I…I'm so glad you're safe and…"

Arya couldn't make out what else her sister said as her words became a jumbled mess of words, tears, and sobs. "Um…Sansa…What are you—?"

"Arya," Sansa managed to say between light sobs. "Just…For once…Shut up and let me be a sister…a good sister to you."

She wanted to tell her sister off for being silly, but she didn't, couldn't. At least not now. Later she would tease Sansa about this. But right now, she could tell that for some reason, her sister not only wanted her, but needed her. 'Family comes first,' she reminded herself, thinking back to whatever had happened to her when she fought against that strange version of her in her dream.

"Oh, um…forgive me, miladies."

Springing away from her sister as if she'd suddenly caught fire, Arya fought against the rising heat in her face as she turned and found Gendry, Joy and Shireen all standing on the opposite side of the grove from Arya and Sansa. "There is nothing to forgive," Sansa said, nearly all traces of what'd just happened gone from her face. 'Damn it! I want to be able to do that!' "I…merely needed a moment with my sister. My brothers were not mincing words when they said that the Trials would be…trying."

"I suppose that's the point…if that's what we even went through," Shireen commented, the girl's hand clenched tightly by her side. "Though I was expecting something more…well…physical I suppose."

"Anyone can be trained to overcome a physical obstacle, my young Acolyte."

Arya nearly jumped out of her boots as she drew her dagger once again. Only to find Lord Nox leaning casually against the very same weirwood that she and Sansa were standing next too. "Gods…one day you will tell me how you do that!" Arya all but yelled, putting her dagger away.

Lord Nox gave her a smirk as he pushed himself off the weirwood. "When the day comes that you are ready to learn that lesson, Arya Stark, you will not need me to give it." Her Master then proceeded to ruffle her hair, in much the same way her father did at times, and just like when her father did it, it drove Arya mad. "Any fool can train their body to overcome a physical trial, Shireen Baratheon. And because of that, the trials are not meant to test you physically, at least not entirely. But rather they pit you against your greatest adversary. Yourselves. And just as I predicted, you all seemed to have passed your trials. Show me them."

Arya turned her head towards the others, who all seemed just as confused as she was by the question. Sansa was the first to step forward and raise her hand. When she opened it, Arya could only gape at the glowing gem in her hand. It wasn't as large as the one Arya had, nor was it even the same color for some reason. But she could feel it through the Force, though it felt a lot different than the one she had.

Next, she knew, Shireen had made her way beside her and was holding out her hand. Just like herself and Sansa, Shireen had a glowing gem as well. Though hers was on size with the one Sansa had, its color was again different from both of theirs. Gendry and Joy were both next as they held up their hands at nearly the same time, showing off their own gems. Gendry's was again a different color than any of the others, while Joy's was the same color as the one Sansa held. Realizing that she was the last one left, Arya proudly raised her hand and showed off her own gem, which was larger and glowed brighter than any of the others.

"And now, you are no longer Acolytes, but rather my Apprentices." Lord Nox proclaimed, which made Arya swell with pride and excitement as she had a good idea about what was coming next.

"Does this mean we get our own lightsabers like Jon and Robb?!"

"In due time," Lord Nox responded, much to her disappointment. "Now come. Our time here on the Isle of Faces is not yet concluded."

"Where are we going now?" Arya didn't mean to sound like she was complaining but watching Lord Nox turn his back on the lot of them and make his way deeper into the woods made her remember just how sore, and tired she really was.

"You five were not the only ones with a purpose here," Lord Nox explained over his shoulder, not once changing his fast pace and forcing the rest of them to nearly run in order to keep up with him. Honestly…did the man never tire?

"Your brother Robb found something interesting during his own Trial while we were at the Wall some years ago," Lord Nox said, his pace never slowing. "During his Trial, he had a vision of your House's founder, Bran the Builder. During this vision, your brother was informed and given a key to the last creation of your House's founder. A creation that he never finished. And a creation that is located here on the Isle of Faces. While you all were going through your trials, I was scouring the island looking for the last wonder of Bran Stark. Let us just say…it was not what I expected."

Arya blinked as she glanced about her surroundings. They were walking through the forest, a forest almost thicker than the Wolfswood. And now they were standing in the midst of a clearing perhaps a few hundred paces across! How, how did she not even notice the clearing? She'd been paying close attention to her every step and she was sure that all of this wasn't here a moment ago. Thankfully, when she glanced towards her sister and the others they seemed just as confused to their current change in scenery as she was.

"Master Nox," Gendry said turning around in tight circles with wide eyes. "Wha – What just happened?"

"Bran Stark was more than just a master craftsman. He was a Master of the Force as well," Lord Nox explained, waving his hand around the clearing. "He didn't want any unwanted guests to find his final creation. So he created a Force barrier around this clearing that blocked it completely from sight and would even influence non-Force sensitives to turn and walk away. In truth, the only reason I actually found it was because of the strange Force presence I felt on the island, and because of my being blind I was able to see through the deception. And now, here we are. The last creation of Bran Stark. Or rather…his last re-creation."

Glancing around the clearing, Arya focused on the only structure within. It was, well it looked like a simple wall that was arranged in a circle with a single break that had a set of stairs leading up to a raised platform about half as high as the wall that surrounded it. It wasn't very interesting to look at. Not when one considered that Bran the Builder created Winterfell, the Wall, and Storm's End. 'But Lord Nox has often said that you cannot judge something by it's look alone.' And with that thought in mind, Arya turned from looking at the structure with her eyes to trying to look at it through the Force.

Without a word, Lord Nox once again set off, this time heading up the stairs to the platform within the walls, leaving the lot of them scurrying to keep up with him. Reaching the raised platform, Arya was confused by what she saw within the walls. The Force was so strong here it was almost like she was standing next to a rushing river. But what was within the walls and on the platform was…well not what she expected. It looked, like a workshop of sorts. Or better yet a—

"This…This place looks like a forge."

Arya narrowed her eyes at Gendry. That was exactly what she'd been thinking and had been about to say, but he'd beat her to it. "This is not just any forge," Lord Nox explained, walking around the stone table that was in the center of the open space. "This is the Forge. Modeled after the First Forge, a place where the Je'daii first forged their weapons which would one day become synonymous with a Force user."

Arya's eyes went wide as the implication hit her. "Lightsabers! Are…You're saying that lightsabers can be forged here?!"

Lord Nox nodded. "In due time. Yes."

Arya was nearly bouncing in place. This was it! She would have her own lightsaber soon! She was sure of it! But of course, her sister had to go and throw a bucket of cold water on her excitement as she asked a silly question. "But Master Nox. If this place is truly capable of Forging such weapons and it has been here since the time of Bran the Builder, then why has it not been used?"

That was…not such a silly question. And as Arya and the others looked towards Lord Nox expectantly, the sorcerer undid the bag from his back that honestly Arya had not even noticed. "That is because Bran Stark never finished it." Setting the bag on the stone table, Lord Nox opened it and pulled out a stone plate looking about the size of a man's head. "You can all sense it, can't you? The way the Force is rushing by us like a raging river? This place was designed to channel the Force, amplify it. But Bran never figured out how to give the Force focus. So, he abandoned the project. But he never stopped trying to figure out how to truly bring this place to life. And during his final days at the Wall, he figured it out. And he left the key to his greatest creation for his descendants to find. A key that your brother Robb discovered during his own Trials."

Arya held her breath as she watched Lord Nox lower the stone plate onto the table. The moment it was in place, she immediately felt something change. The Force, which had been like a raging river just like Lord Nox described, went quiet. It was still just as heavy as before but now it…felt different. Focused…though how that made sense she had no idea.

"And now, Bran the Builder's final creation has been completed," Lord Nox proclaimed, a rare smile on his face as he once against reached into his bag. "And now, it is time for you five to cast aside the title of 'Acolyte' and become my 'Apprentices'."

Arya nearly shouted in joy as Lord Nox pulled out five smooth hilts of varying sizes. Hilts that she recognized immediately as lightsabers, though they were rather plain to look at when compared to Lord Nox's or her brothers. "Now, unlike your brothers, we will spend the remainder of our time here in the First Forge of Westeros modifying your own lightsabers through the Force to suit your needs."

---

Jon wasn't sure what it was that'd woken him so early in the morning, but something had driven him to rise before the sun had even risen. And whatever it was had not only woken him, but he felt a…desire? No. A need to walk through the godswood. Alone. And so here he was, in the darkness just before the sun rose, walking silently along the path through the godswood leading towards the weirwood tree with only his own eyes and the slight lighting from the watch towers around Winterfell to provide light for him.

Coming to the center of the godswood, he found himself standing before the imposing weirwood. Staring up at the twisting branches, some of which were almost as old as Winterfell itself, Jon felt something pulling at him. Something that he needed to do. But…what was it? As he looked amongst the branches, he noticed something. A thick branch that had longed hanged just over the hotspring was…gone. Instead of up in the tree, the branch, thicker than his arm and nearly twice as long as he was tall, was laying across the ground.

"And what is it that is so interestin that you left our bed to go walkin before da sun even be up?"

It was a testament to just how distracted he was that Jon had not even sensed Ygritte approaching until she was literally right behind him. "Gods, Ygritte," he breathed, shaking his head as he tried to calm his racing heart.

For her part, Ygritte merely looked surprised. "Ya sayin that ye be so distracted that I managed to get the drop on ya?" He could hear the mirth in her voice and knew that she would not let him live this one instance down anytime soon. "And what is it that has ya so distracted that ya don't even realize yer own woman is walkin up on ya?"

"I – I don't know." Jon answered honestly, turning back to gaze at the broken branch of the weirwood.

Moving up beside him, Ygritte tapped the bag he was holding. A bag that he didn't even realize he was holding. "And why did ye bring that rock out here with ya?"

Blinking, Jon glanced down at the bag in his hand. Feeling the weight within, Jon opened it. And gazed down at the black dragon egg within. The same egg he'd taken from within the ruins of Valyria years ago. The same dragon egg that he'd kept stashed away from everyone. An egg that he'd almost completely forgotten about. 'When did I…When did I get this from where I stashed it?'

Glancing back up, Jon went back and forth between the fallen branch and the egg in his hands. 'Why…What brought me here? Why am I here? The Force brought me here for some reason…but why?'

"It's not often ya see a branch from a weirwood fall." Ygritte said, almost making him start as he'd once again forgotten she was standing right next to him. "We of the true North see them as gifts from the gods. Some make spears. Some make bones. Others will sometimes burn the branches they find and pass their children through the smoke, prayin the strength and power of the gods will pass from the weirwood into their child."

'Burning the godswood for the blessings of the old gods. No. Hoping to take the old gods into them. By burning…burning…fire. Creatures of fire.' Blinking, unsure of just where the last thought came from, he glanced down at the egg. 'Could it…could it be that simple? No, surely not or they would have never died out. But…maybe this is the start?'

His body seemed to move on its own as he walked around the hot spring and towards the downed branch. Setting the egg down, he went down to his knees and began breaking the branch before stacking the pieces of wood overtop of the egg. Breaking one of the larger branches, Jon bit back a curse as the wood dug deep into the palm of his hand, deep enough that blood started to flow freely from his hand, dripping onto the wood and the egg though he didn't notice the latter as he set about bandaging the wound.

"Alright…I give up. I ain't got a clue as to what da fuck yer doing here." Ygritte sighed, knocking his hand away as she took over tying a makeshift bandage around his still freely bleeding palm. "If ya wanted to cook da damn thing, yer better off doin it in the fancy…katchen…kitchen…that you southerners are all so proud of."

"Dragons are creatures of fire…almost the embodiment of it pending on the legend you want to listen to," Jon answered her, taking his hand back after she'd tied the wound tightly to stem the tide of blood. "Maybe…maybe they need to be born of fire as well."

He could almost hear Ygritte's brow furrow as he knelt next to the now decently sized pile of wood with the egg nestled in the middle. "Ya…ya want to hatch da damn thing?" She asked cautiously. "Are ya sure ya want to be doin that? I mean, no one livin has seen these beasts…but even in the true North we have stories of them."

"I – gods…To be honest, I don't know," Jon answered truthfully as he rocked back slightly onto his heels. "But this…this is something that needs to happen. I can, I can feel it. And I need your help."

Ygritte didn't necessarily look pleased at the request. "I swear to da gods, Jon. If you weren't as good with yer tongue and yer cock as ye are…I would tell ya to fuck off. But seeing as how ya are…what do ya need me to do?"

"Fire," Jon said calmly. "As hot as you can make it concentrated on the wood and the egg. I'll use the Force to keep it contained. You just provide the fire."

Smirking, Ygritte rolled up the sleeve of her right arm, revealing the talisman that he'd collected from Valyria strapped to her arm. "Well, that's not such a difficult request. But I still demand repayment, Jon. I ain't your walkin fire starter."

Knowing that her 'price' would be enjoyable for both, he simply nodded, his eyes never leaving the egg as he held out his hands and prepared himself for Ygritte to let loose her fire. "Same as last time I asked something of you?"

"Yup, da Lords Kiss till I'm satisfied." He could hear the smile on Ygritte's face as her talisman covered arm joined next to his own, tendrils of fire dancing between her fingers, itching to be let loose. "Now, let's begin."

---

Standing before the large funeral pyre, Dany watched on silently as her husband was carefully laid down upon it. Beside her stood her three handmaidens, as well as Ser Jorah and Rakharo while she held Rhaego in her arms. Once her husband was set down, the witch was brought forth, or rather dragged forth as she was still suffering from…whatever it was that Dany had done to her. The two Dothraki dragging her paused for just a moment as she was brought before Dany. The witch had recovered just enough to regain her hateful glare. "If you expect me to scream again or beg…I won't."

Tilting her head, Dany forced down the anger within her that was desperately trying to get free once more. "I do not want your screams nor your pleas. I merely wish for your death."

With a slight twitch of her head, the two Dothraki dragged the witch to the funeral pyre and used several lengths of rope to tie her in place. Once the witch was in place, Dany handed her son off to Doreah before turning towards Irri and Jhiqui. In Irri's hands was a burning torch. And in Jhiqui's was the warm dragon egg that Domeric Bolton had gifted her seemingly a lifetime ago. Taking the offered torch in one hand and the egg in the other, Dany turned her attention back to the pyre. She took a single step forward before stopping as Ser Jorah moved into her path. "Khaleesi," the word was so…full of emotion that it sounded like he was almost begging her, "I don't know what you have planned…but think of your son…of those still here with you before you step upon that pyre."

Meeting his eyes, Dany kept herself devoid of any fear of what she was about to do. In truth, she didn't even fully know what she was about to do. She just knew that, for some reason, she needed to do this. "Fire cannot kill a dragon, Ser Jorah. Quite the opposite…as you will soon see."

Pushing her way past Ser Jorah, Dany made her way to the pyre and climbed up. Looking down at her husband, her sun and stars, Dany felt the pain of his loss deep within her. 'May you find your way to the Great Stallion, my love.' She whispered, laying the dragon egg upon his chest. Raising the torch high, Dany met the eye of everyone who had chosen to stay with them. "Fire does not kill a dragon! Dragons are born of fire! And through fire and blood, shall they be reborn!" And with that, she let go of the torch.

---

Watching his new Apprentices putting the final touches on their lightsabers, Nox was nearly knocked over as he felt a wave of pure Force energy pass over him. And he was not the only one as every one of his Apprentices rocked slightly and began looking around almost frantically. "Master!" Arya called out breathlessly, her lightsaber in her hands and ready to be drawn at a moment's notice. "Wh – What was—?"

Nox didn't answer in words. Instead he just help up his hand, the single gesture silencing the little wolf almost immediately. This…sensation. A…vergence had just transpired. But where? How? And more than that the Force felt…almost pleased and – and there was something else as well. Something strong…impossibly strong in the Force.

Hearing several startled gasps, Nox used his Force sight to see that his Apprentices were all facing skywards. Reaching out his senses, Nox immediately found what had drawn their attention. "The…the Red Comet." Sansa breathed, giving name to the phenomenon.

Nox wasn't sure just what exactly this comment was…but there was one thing for certain. It was heavily laden with the Force. Just like Korriban and Tython only…condensed. Like both planets had been compressed down into this single comet that was passing so close to this planet that it was clearly visible from the ground. The comet, or asteroid he couldn't truly tell, was a honest Force nexus of both dark side and light side Force energies. And it was so…potent. Nox almost felt like his own connection to the Force was…deepening just from being on the surface of this planet as it passed them by. Was…Was this the reason for this planet's unusual connection to the Force? Or was the Force nexus drawn to this world? Or both? And as the Red Comet passed them by, Nox realized once again, that the more he learned of this world…the more questions he had.

---

Rushing out onto the balcony that was attached to the room she'd been given, Melisandre watched with a wide smile as the Red Comet passed overhead. Feeling the red jewel she wore warm, she instinctively held onto the stone as she closed her eyes and basked in the feeling of the blessing of the one true god R'hllor. 'I'm on the right path,' she thought with a smile, feeling the magic within her…not strengthen but rather…sharpen. Like a sword fresh from the wet stone. 'And R'hllor has sent his blessing upon me to complete his task. I will not fail you, my lord. I have found your champion…and I will bring him to your side.'

---

Groaning, Jon raised his head from the cold dirt and leaves he'd been sleeping upon. 'When did I… Where am I?' Rubbing at his head, Jon tried to clear his thoughts as he pieced together what'd happened. 'I remember waking before dawn…and judging by how light it is its well past dawn now…then I came out here to the godswood…Ygritte followed me and we…'

His memory returning to him, he glanced first to Ygritte, who was still sleeping soundly beside him, then towards the fire they had created. Which was now nothing more than a smoldering pile of charred sticks and dying embers. But that was it…There…The egg he'd placed in the center of the fire was…gone.

Hearing a low whine, he turned his head to his other side and saw Ghost lying beside him, his friend's bloodred eyes staring at him intently. "Ghost," Jon groaned, sitting up as he did so. "What…What happened an—?"

His words died in his throat as he saw Ghost's fur sway. Then a dark shape slowly emerged from within the warmth of the fur. A small black lizard looking creatures with a silver, almost white, stripe running across it's back and down the length of each wing. The creature's head rose as its eyes stared intently at Jon. The moment his eyes met the eyes of the creature, he felt a bond immediately form between the two of them. One just like the one he shared with Ghost. Giving an excited yip, the creature scrambled the rest of the way out of Ghost's fur and stumbled its way across the ground towards Jon.

As the creature reached him and started squealing at him, a sensation of a want for comfort and food seeping through the bond, Jon was struck with just a single thought as he stared at the small…dragon…before him. "Oh…fuck."

---

By the time the last of the embers died, dawn was just starting to break over the horizon. Jorah had not slept a single moment since Daenerys, Dany…his Khaleesi, had lit the pyre aflame with herself still upon it. His first instinct had been to run and save her. But something held him back. He didn't know what it was but…his body simply wouldn't move. And so, he knelt before the pyre and did something he had not done in a long, long time. He prayed to the old gods of the North. Not for himself. But rather that they turn their blessings upon the one he truly believed was worthy of following.

Hearing the rest of the camp starting to rouse themselves, Ser Jorah slowly made his way into the clearing smoke. As he neared what was the center of the pyre, he saw something. A figure. No. A woman who was hunched over. One more step, and the figure slowly started to rise. As she did, Jorah felt…gods he didn't know what he felt. Awe. Relief? Disbelief? Everything…as Daenerys Targaryen rose from the ashes. Her clothes and hair were gone, yet there was no mistaking her. Just as he was about to order for clothes to be brought forth, his voice failed him as he heard an almost…chirping noise coming from her.

Glancing down, and doing all he could not to stare at her breast or sex, he saw her arms forming a cradle before her stomach. And in the cradle was a small black creature. 'By the gods,' his strength left him as he went down to one knee before her. 'A dragon…she…she hatched a dragon!'

---

Closing the flap of his tent, Septon Bulgar cursed the idiocy of these simple-minded folk. All of Harrenhal was gossiping about the Red Comet that'd flown overhead. All day he'd had to listen to the never-ending gossiping and it was driving him insane. These fools honestly believed that the comet held some sort of power? Ridiculous. The only power, true power, was within the Seven-Who-Are-One. But that still didn't stop these nonbelieving heathens from crafting outlandish tales about how the comet was a sign from the Old Gods or some such nonsense. Honestly, just hearing of the Old Gods was enough to make him want to curse. The Old Gods were not true gods. And it infuriated him to no end when these fools insisted that not only were they gods, but that their power was somehow greater than the Seven's.

"It's the heathenistic North!" he cursed. "They are drawing the minds of these simple fools away with some fancy tricks. Don't they realize that by even buying these false mummeries for even a moment damns them in the eyes of the Seven! They need to die! They all need to die!"

And he was not alone in this thought either. Many true believers thought as he did. But they were unfortunately too few to act, and the King was too much of a fool to heed their warnings. That was why he'd taken action by provoking the young wolf boy. He'd been hoping that the fool would strike him, which would give him all the credence he would need to rile the true believers. But no. The boy had not done as he should have! Instead of striking him, he merely smeared shit over his robes and walked away!

Hearing his tent open, he turned ready to tell whoever had entered to leave him. "I am in no mood to hear whate – oh! I…By the Seven, forgive my lack of manners."

His new guest didn't say anything, and Bulgar felt himself tremble. "You were given a simple assignment from the Seven. You were to enrage the young wolf and force him to show his true self so that we might better save the people from the heathens of the North. You failed."

Bulgar immediately went down to one knee, head bowed in reverence. "I – I have another plan. I will not fail again."

"No." Bulgar winced but kept his head down as his guest walked towards him. "Your plans are worthless. But you will still have a part to play in what is to come."

Because his head was bowed, he never saw the dagger coming until it pierced his back. Collapsing and gasping for breath, Bulgar tried to pull the dagger out, but he couldn't reach where it was in his back. "Bu–Bu…I – I did all – all you – asked of – of me…"

"Indeed, you did," his guest said as Bulgar's life left him. "And now, you will do your final part before going to the Seven."