Chapter 4 – Winterfell II - 297 AC

Jaehaerys

The clanks of steel against steel filled the training grounds of Winterfell as the sun stood high in the sky above. Cheeks flushed red and with sweat streaming down his face, Robb was struggling to keep the Kingsguard's blunted sword at bay. Dressed in leather armor while his opponent had foregone all armor, his cousin parried and took yet another step back on the cobblestone ground. Without a moment's hesitation Jaime followed and attacked again, first high, then with a fluid low follow-up that grazed Robb's left thigh.

That must have hurt, even though it didn't cut flesh. Jae winced in sympathy pain as Robb recovered somewhat and started to adjust his weight away from his left foot. It wouldn't be long now, Jae knew as he watched the spar from his seat on a crudely axed wooden bench. He had seen the more or less same spar countless times during this past year at Winterfell. They had settled into a demanding routine of practice and lessons ever since Uncle Ned had taken most of his family back to Moat Cailin.

Jaime looked relaxed; a small smile revealed that the tall and strong knight truly enjoyed these bouts. He's not going to smile as much when I finally put him in his place, Jae vowed silently. The day must come eventually. He did better than Robb, as his greater speed was more effective against Jaime than Robb's greater strength, but neither of them did well enough.

Just two weeks past Jae had landed his first hit on Jaime; the barest touch of a feather really, but it had been enough for Jaime to double his efforts. While it was an important milestone, Jae had since then not been able to replicate it to his great chagrin.

In a few moments it was over. Robb still held onto his sword as Jaime swept his good leg from under him. His cousin landed on his back and Jae swore he could almost hear how Robb's lungs emptied of air. "Good spar, lad," Jaime smiled, "you're improving. Slowly perhaps, but still not bad for a northerner." He didn't even look winded as he bent over his fallen opponent. Robb said something in reply, but Jae was too far away to make out the words. He could only imagine what his cousin said as Jaime threw back his head and laughed.

Robb had initially been taken aback at Jaime's constant belittling comments. But seeing how Jae merely shrugged it off, and more often than not responded in kind, had slowly begun to affect his cousin and his ability and willingness to engage in verbal spars. Whether that kind of influence on the future Lord of Winterfell was good or not, Jae honestly did not know.

Perhaps not. Not if the North remained as inward-looking as it currently was. While he felt personally at home with his northern kin, he sometimes felt as if the North was a kingdom apart and not subject to the Iron Throne. And he, for all his Stark blood, was a representative of the royal family, and therefore an outsider; an emissary of a foreign nation.

A wet nose interrupted his thoughts as it nudged the back of his hand. He looked down and saw Ghost coming to press himself against him. The pups had all grown a surprising amount in just a year, Jae thought as he bent down to scratch his neck. At a few moons, Ghost had already been the size of small dog and now he seemed to have started yet another growth spurt, equal in size to a large hound. Not that Jae knew all that much about direwolves and their growth patterns, but he was certain that every time he looked Ghost had added an inch. But if Ghost added an inch, Grey Wind seemed to have added an inch and then a touch more, he noted as Robb's wolf followed.

While Grey Wind and Ghost were close, as true littermates, there was something amusing in watching Grey Wind cozy up with Mist, cousin Lyarra's gray-white wolf bitch. It was amusing since Robb was still quite awkward with Lyarra and often had to retrieve Grey Wind from her, all the while stammering incoherently. It provided ample material for teasing.

Jae himself had never met a girl who caused his tongue to tie itself in knots like Robb's did around Lyarra. Unbidden, the memory of Dany's face flickered through his mind, but that was foolishness, he had always been able to speak coherently with her.

"Are you hungry, Ghost?" Jae asked the white wolf who was nipping softly at his fingers. While Ghost hardly ever made a sound, Grey Wind began to whine softly as if he tried to answer Jae's question for his silent brother. "Alright then, off we go," Jae said as he rose to his now rested feet and began to make his way over to the kitchen with Jaime as usual falling in behind him, despite being a lot more relaxed about his duties at Winterfell.

After having spent a couple of hours training under Ser Rodrik's watchful eyes, Jae had been the first to go up against Jaime. Their spars usually marked the end of the weapons training each day and there was something unfair about practicing strikes and parries only to go up against a fresh Jaime.

"Tomorrow," he vowed.

"I beg your pardon, my Prince?" Jaime asked, looking confused.

"Tomorrow you will eat dust," Jae clarified when he realized that he had given voice to his thoughts. "I can feel it."

Jaime just laughed. "I lost count of how many times I've heard those words before," he teased. Jae reluctantly admitted that he had cause, but this time it was different. He said as much.

"Be careful there, or history will remember you as Jaehaerys the Dreamer, the Prince who couldn't keep his promise," Jaime quipped.

Jae groaned at the horrible puns and deeply regretted his tendency to trust Jaime with Targaryen lore as well as his own deepest insecurities. "Seven hells, Jaime, please take some things seriously!"

Jaime just raised an eyebrow at him incredulously, as if to ask "Do you even know me?"

When they made it to the kitchen they found that Berena and Robyn were already feeding their own pups. Berena's gray-black Shade and Robyn's pitch black Raven were both ripping into what looked like the innards of a hog. They growled as the tugged the meat back and forth between them, but when they became aware of Ghost and Grey Wind they immediately took their catch further into the kitchens. The kitchen maids looked on in what seemed like equal parts horror and equal parts reverence.

Jae could very well imagine the thoughts that ran through their minds. While by now surely used to the presence of direwolves; creatures out of legend to many even in the North, they had all heard his Lord Grandfather often speak of the significance of the direwolves. He himself had heard it many times before, both in private and in the presence of everyone in the Great Hall.

"This is not a time to gloat; to claim that by sending us the sigils of our House surely the Gods are pleased with us. Do not be fooled! The direwolves are an omen, a clear warning of dark and dangerous times ahead and we must prepare for the coming winter!"

While Uncle Brandon had rolled his eyes discreetly, Lord Stark had stressed repeatedly how the latest births, of one pup for each Stark child, meant that all the children had important roles to play and would need to stay in the North. Jae remembered how Sansa had been crestfallen and looked to be on the brink of tears. There was no doubt that grandfather had ruined her southern dreams, and by the look on Aunt Catelyn's face also her plans had been thrown to the wind.

Jae had placed an arm around Sansa's shoulders and whispered softly that she could still visit the South and that although this decision wasn't by any means final, perhaps the North was a much better place for Lady.

All of that was soon forgotten when Lord Stark had then pointed out the significance of Ghost's coloring, the only direwolf to belong to a half-wolf Dragon. With his white coat and red eyes, grandfather had rhetorically asked what they were reminded of. "Weirwood trees!" little Robyn had shouted excitedly.

Lord Stark had smiled approvingly at his youngest granddaughter and pointed out that the Gods were surely watching them through Ghost's eyes, but the white direwolf was ever silent just as they were, unless you knew how to listen. No one had looked at Ghost the same way ever since. Or at himself for that matter. Sometimes he thought he could hear their whispers.

He observed silently as Ghost and Grey Wind each got a large piece of meat and began to devour them; one growling and the other deadly silent. He was not sure what to make of grandfather's words. Jae was not a man to be inclined towards the mysteries. Not like father and grandfather were. It was impossible not to take notice of the strange coincidence of the exact number of direwolves, but he wasn't sure if the Gods, whether new or old, had anything to do with it.

The Gods rarely seemed to care or involve themselves in the affairs of man, judging by what Jae had learned in his history books. Where was the Mother's mercy when children were slaughtered and women raped during the countless wars and uprisings that had ravaged Westeros? Where was the Father's judgment when ruthless lords preyed on the weak; when robbers took what was not theirs? No, the Seven were convenient fictions; names put on the unknown; hopes and wishes given face. He wasn't as sure about the nameless northern Gods.

"Always with the brooding, cousin?" Lyarra's teasing voice came from behind him. She had quietly joined them, while Mist confidently approached the still growling Grey Wind. The largest pup in the pack let out a small whine before he stepped aside slightly to give his sister access to the feast. She gave him a quick sniff before she dug into the meal. "It's not fair that you take all the worries of the world for yourself and leave none for the rest of us!" Lyarra smiled at him. She was a warm person, impossible not to like, but with a sharp tongue.

"Well, it would hardly be fair to my Father if I had not taken after him in any way," he joked back.

She looked at him skeptically, having never met the King. "One could almost believe that Uncle Ned was your father. You seem so much alike."

Jae didn't doubt it, but he knew he could never be as honorable as his uncle was said to be. Life seemed kinder to pragmatists and he'd rather rule long and well when it was his turn. He kept those thoughts to himself though. Jae didn't imagine it was easy to explain to northerners that you could still want to do the right thing even if you used less than honorable methods. Sometimes he thought that his mother had yet to learn that lesson, for all her time at court. He immediately forced the familiar longing for her down.

"Yes, I can readily believe how I am really the bastard son of the Lord of Moat Cailin; hidden away in plain sight at court to escape Aunt Catelyn's unforgiving eyes!"

Lyarra burst out in a very unladylike laughter that he found very appealing. Everything about her was appealing, from her long dark brown curls to the shape of her developing curves, he thought somewhat regretfully. She was Robb's betrothed, never his.

"I bet Robb would have been pleased to find out that he has another brother, although from the looks of it you couldn't be any closer unless someone tied you together with thick rope," Lyarra answered just as Robb stepped inside the kitchen.

"What's that about being tied with ropes?" their cousin asked suspiciously, cheeks reddening slightly though as he met Lyarra's scrutinizing gaze.

"Nothing, dear cousin," Jae replied with a mischievous smile. "Lyarra was just discussing various ideas for after the bedding ceremony."

At Robb's now beet red cheeks and stammered response, Jae couldn't help himself but burst out laughing. Even Jaime guffawed from his position at the door. Lyarra too seemed to have found it very amusing, but she also directed a pitying look at Robb who was still trying to recover and a withering look at Jae. She was unlike most women Jae had ever met, but he understood that northern women simply didn't follow the same conventions and expectations that southern women were raised with.

"Don't listen to him, Robb," Lyarra reassured him. "There's still plenty of time to plan the bed.. I mean wedding," she teased while Berena and Robyn just looked on confusedly. At that Robb simply fled the kitchen, having already had enough. He was so innocent sometimes and needed some corrupting influences. If only Tyrion had been here, Jae thought wistfully.

Still, Jaime was not that bad either, even though he to Jae's knowledge never frequented any brothels. Perhaps he took his oaths too seriously for that, he mused, although it seemed unlikely. He just couldn't figure out any other reason. As Kingsguard, if he had a beloved nothing could ever come from it. He struck the thought from his mind.

Robb

"In the name of Rhaegar of the house Targaryen, first of his name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, I Brandon of house Stark, Heir to Winterfell and the North, I do sentence you to die."

With a mighty swing Brandon brought Ice down on the neck of their captured deserter. It was a clean strike and blood spurted out of the man's severed neck, painting the grass red around them. The man had barely uttered a coherent word. All Robb had understood was "they're coming" but it wasn't clear who he referred to. Wildlings, most assuredly.

Brandon watched his work somberly. The normally jovial uncle had a rarely seen serious look to his face. "Gah!" he finally spat. "This is the third one in as many moons. Last year we had only two during the entire year."

Robb watched his uncle from where he stood next to Jae and Jaime, Stark and Targaryen banners fluttering in the wind above them. Both boys had been invited to every execution, but Robb did not enjoy them anymore here than he had at Moat Cailin. Such a waste, but Uncle Brandon had stressed how dangerous deserters were; who truly had nothing to lose as their lives were already forfeit.

"He died well," Robb said suddenly. "No plea for mercy, no begging." He was not sure he could ever meet his own death without even attempting a struggle.

"It wouldn't have helped him, my lord," Ser Rodrik spoke up, looking grim. "He must have known it as soon as he left his post on the Wall." With his hand he motioned to a couple of Stark men-at-arms to begin digging the deserter's grave. It would be a hole in the ground, covered in dirt. Soon forgotten by the world.

"Aye," Brandon said. "Something must have frightened him so greatly that death seemed more of a relief than punishment. Just like the others." He spat again. Hints of worry and grim determination were visible on his ruggedly handsome face.

"My Father should be informed of this," Jae spoke up softly as he pushed his long curls away from his eyes, adjusting his headband slightly. "If the Wildlings are planning something, the King must know."

Uncle Brandon gave Jae a considering look before he answered. "Aye, but what do we tell His Grace? As worrying as these deserters are, we still know nothing."

"Maybe we should call Uncle Benjen back to Winterfell? Surely he could tell us all that is going on," Robb suggested.

"We could, but word from the Wall is that Benjen is out on yet another ranging. It would have to wait until he's back," Brandon said as he wiped off Ice on the grass while the direwolves sniffed at the blood. He would undoubtedly clean it more properly once they were back at Winterfell. His uncle always sought solitude in the Godswood after an execution, just like his Lord Father did at Moat Cailin. Brandon had explained it was the Stark way when Jae had asked.

Robb had a feeling the idea of waiting for word of Benjen's return didn't sit easily with Brandon as no one knew when that would be. He said as much.

"You're right, lad." Brandon said approvingly. "I have decided that we shall ride for the Wall on the morrow. The Lord Commander will know what there is to know." He nodded at Jae and Robb. "The two of you shall come along. It will be a good learning experience for the both of you and it's high time we inspect the Wall more closely," he added. Turning to Jae he smiled, "And I don't doubt you would be happy to see your great-uncle Maester Aemon!"

They eventually rode back to Winterfell, with Robb and Jae chatting excitedly about their upcoming journey. "What about you Ser Jaime?" Robb asked at one point. "Aren't you excited to finally see the Wall, the greatest structure built by man?"

Jaime snorted. "It's a wall. Made of ice. Of impressive height and seize, no doubt, but with nothing but Wildlings, trees and snow on the other side. But it's still a wall in a place where ice doesn't melt. I'd rather go south to King's Landing, or to Casterly Rock. Now that's a grand building!"

Robb was about to retort angrily, but Jae spoke up before he had a chance. "You surprise me, Ser Jaime. Should I ask Father to send a replacement? Would you rather be assigned to my sisters Visenya or Shaena? Or perhaps to the Queen Mother to guard her door or escort her to luncheons; to get some excitement in your dull life, instead of being forced to traverse the cold North with me?"

Jaime sputtered an indignant protest, "No thank you, my Prince. I'm honored to accompany the Crown Prince wherever he shall go, no matter if my bits shrivel from the cold. It's a price any Kingsguard would gladly pay to see a big wall of ice."

Jae gave Jaime an annoyed look. Sometimes the knight seemed to take his irreverence too far even for Robb's normally self-composed cousin. Finally the prince said, "Stop complaining like a little baby then. If you're lucky I will send you beyond the Wall to take a look at these Wildlings for me. A bit of scuffling with snarks and grumkins, not to mention the giants, would surely warm your blood and keep the drift ice in your balls at bay. Although the Gods know that only your right hand would care."

Robb chuckled softly and so did Brandon, who must have overheard from his position ahead of them. Jaime's eyes flashed briefly with anger before he seemed to change his mind. He smiled then, "I'm impressed, my Prince. Those are big words for someone who has yet to touch a maid. One might be forgiven if one thought that someone who speaks like that must have been sneaking out to Winter Town at night. But fret not, as your faithful shadow I will defend your honor and can truthfully attest to the fact that you remain untouched and unspoiled!"

Robb watched Jae's cheeks redden, but whether in anger or embarrassment he couldn't tell. Brandon and Ser Rodrik roared with laughter however. Even the Stark men-at-arms failed to hide their amusement, however unseemly it was to laugh at a prince. Robb huffed, feeling the joke aimed at him just as much as at Jae, while his cousin merely threw Jaime a withering look. Suddenly riding back in silence seemed a great idea.

Jaehaerys

The evening meal that day was a chaotic affair. Lyarra pleaded with her father to be allowed to come with them, but Brandon wouldn't budge. He argued that with Lords Umber, and even Lord Karstark to the east, reporting an increase in wildling raids it was simply too risky. From what Jae could tell the argument did not impress his cousin much.

"And who will protect Robb and Jae?" she asked as she angrily threw Mist a piece of chicken. Aunt Barbrey had tried to put an end to that behavior early on, but had finally given up on the futile endeavor.

"They are fourteen, almost men grown and quite able with sword in hand." He retorted. Robb gave Jae a pleased look that he met by raising his cup of weak ale in salute, swelling slightly at the praise.

Brandon must have caught it however, "Capable enough to hold back enemies until help can reach them." Jae felt himself bristle at the insinuation that he needed help against a Wildling, but before he could say as much, Brandon continued with a small smile, "Yet still so green that they piss grass. Perhaps you're right dear; maybe it's better if we leave the boys here where it's safe."

Fortunately Lord Rickard decided to intervene. "They cannot remain boys forever. Winter is coming. They must come with you." Brandon just rolled his eyes at his Lord Father's lack of humor. In the past year Jae had learned that this was an ongoing theme in their relationship. While Rickard's word was law, due to his ailing health Brandon was already the acting lord of Winterfell as well as of the North. "Yes, of course Father."

His grandfather nodded. Then he turned to Jae, "Word arrived from King's Landing that your mother and sisters will set sail for White Harbor in just a week from now." The words surprised Jae. With roughly fifteen to eighteen days from King's Landing, another three-to-four weeks on the road to Winterfell and they might arrive roughly at the same time as Jae returned from the Wall. With clear weather and unencumbered by wagons and other equipment they might need to ride for about twenty days to reach the Wall and an equal time back. He really wanted to be back to greet them when they arrived. Sometimes he missed them so much it hurt. Dany and father too.

Brandon seemed to have sensed his thoughts, "We shall only remain at the Wall for a week or two. Undoubtedly Lord Manderly will take this opportunity to prepare sumptuous feasts for the Queen, sparing no expense."

Jae sent him a grateful look at that and nodded, already feeling better about their trip.

His grandfather seemed oblivious to the exchange however, or perhaps he simply decided that it was of no matter. He looked at Jae as he continued, "As you're leaving tomorrow I want you to join me in my solar after supper. Alone." He didn't elaborate however.

Jae looked at uncle Brandon and Robb, but they both shrugged as if to say that they had no idea what it was about.

A couple of hours later, Jae headed to Lord Stark's solar through winding corridors, not knowing what to expect, Jaime trailed behind him as usual. He had met the Lord Stark privately quite a few times – as had Robb – but he had a sense that tonight was different. During previous talks they had not met in the solar as his grandfather had all but vacated it in favor of Brandon, who already served as the acting lord. Instead they often met by the Heart Tree, which seemed to be Lord Rickard's favored place.

His grandfather had seemed to want different things each time. Sometimes he simply desired to get to know Jae better. At other times, usually those he shared with Robb, he had imparted valuable lessons the Starks had learned the hard way, on everything about dealing with bannermen; who to raise up and reward, who to keep an eye on.

At yet other times he had talked about how winter was the one constant enemy in the North; much deadlier than the Andals and their false gods. Jae had cringed slightly at the last bit, but had as usual chosen to say nothing.

The worst was one time a few moons ago when he had given his greatly embarrassed grandsons the talk, or at least a version of it, stressing also how important it was to not dishonor the daughters of their bannermen. If such urges could not be controlled, it was better to visit a brothel. But even then they should take care to only visit clean establishments, as surely they did not want any problems in that area.

Poor Robb who was betrothed to Lord Stark's granddaughter looked like he wanted the earth to rise up and swallow him where he sat.

Perhaps tonight had to do with the Wall. Or musings on the old Gods. He would have to wait and see.

When he finally reached his destination, a guard bowed to him, then knocked quickly on the door before he opened it and announced Jae's presence.

As Jae stepped into the familiar study where he and Robb often helped Uncle Brandon run the North. It was for the most part tedious work. Lots of numbers and calculations that neither he nor Robb particularly cared for.

"Come sit, my boy," grandfather waved at him invitingly from behind the large desk. "Ser Jaime, I'm afraid this is not even for the ears of a Kingsguard, pray forgive me but I hope you don't mind waiting outside." For all his politeness it wasn't a request.

At Jae's nod Jaime shrugged and stepped outside as the door closed behind him.

Jae turned to his grandfather expectantly. It wasn't the first time that Jaime had to leave. Lord Stark cared little for Southron vows and ideas of honor.

"Tomorrow is the first time you will truly leave Winterfell since you arrived here more than a year ago," his grandfather began. "I can tell that both you and Robb are excited." He smiled at him.

Jae only nodded in response, not sure where his grandfather was going with this. Did he call him here for small talk?

"You must wonder why I asked you here," Lord Rickard continued undeterred by Jae's simple response.

Jae nodded again, but felt he had to offer more. "I do indeed, grandfather. But I am starting to fear that you will hold it up and dangle it out of reach, just to watch me squirm in anticipation." He smiled to show that he meant no offense.

His grandfather did not smile however, but muttered softly something that sounded like "Would that I could," but Jae wasn't sure he heard correctly. Now Jae was definitely curious, but suddenly afraid it was bad news. He shifted nervously in his seat, fiddling with the sleeves of his tunic.

It must not have escaped Lord Rickard's notice, as he reached over the desk and put a calming hand on Jae's arm. "Fear not, my boy, it's not bad news. I do hope that the consequences will not be bad either, but that is in the hands of the Gods."

His grandfather pulled back his arm and bent down behind his desk. A moment later he held up a small chest, entirely made of iron, no longer than Jae's forearm. He hesitated then for a moment before he spoke anew.

"Perhaps it is better that I show you."

With that he pulled out a key and slowly opened the chest. Jae leaned forward to see better and could hardly believe his eyes. How in the Seven Hells did a dragon egg end up in Winterfell?!

It was beautiful. A deep red was its most dominant color, but there was a touch of yellow too. He was simply mesmerized by it.

"I was close to give it to your father when he was here," his grandfather continued softly, as if lost in memories. "But something held me back."

Jae didn't really understand. "What could have held you back, my lord?'

Rickard shrugged. "I honestly do not know. It just didn't feel right. We all know the circumstances around the King's birth. In him I saw a promising king; I suppose I didn't want to add more to his already heavy burdens given the nature of his own father." He paused for a second before he addressed the question that Jae was about to raise next. "It was discovered some years after Prince Jacaerys Velaryon had been here and it seems more than likely that this egg was laid by Vermax."

"But why didn't you give it back to my father later? Why didn't your father or grandfather give it back to my family? Is there more than one egg?" Jae wanted to know. The dragon within him awoke in fury at the affront, but he managed to keep a tight grip on his emotions. Both sides were family.

"There was only the one. Back then the royal family had many dragons and it did not seem urgent. I discovered old notes suggesting that there were plans to gift the egg to the royal family when the Pact of Ice and Fire would finally be fulfilled. Yet that day never came, the promise to Lord Cregan never kept after he had helped turn the tide of war." The last part was said with some surprising bitterness, as if it was an ancient affront; a dishonor done to the Starks, repeated by each new generation of Targaryens.

"When your mother was wed I thought of gifting it, but I eventually decided that the first Dragon in history with the blood of the direwolf should be the one to receive it. It is after all a northern dragon, whatever its ancestry, just like you, dear grandson."

Jae tried desperately to wrap his head around the idea that there had been a dragon egg at Winterfell all this time. It didn't make sense, yet here it was right in front of him.

He had never seen a dragon egg before, believing like his father that most had been lost at Summerhall. His father had sent men to scour the lands, even beyond Westeros, in search for dragon eggs, but so far no one had heard of any.

With reverence he slowly picked up the large reddish egg. As he held it up he could see the yellow more clearly. The combination looked like fire had been integrated into the shell. He put his ear to it; listening intently. There was nothing to be heard. Only his own labored breath. While he heard nothing, he swore there was something. A feel to it, beyond words, out of reach from his five senses. But still there.

He was eventually brought back to the present when his grandfather spoke again.

"I have observed you closely during your stay here. You are a Dragon, there's no doubt about it. But the Direwolf is strong within you, not just in the looks from your mother. Now, I do not know if the egg I am giving you can ever be hatched, but I can feel it in my old bones that if it ever does, you will be a worthy rider. The wolf will help rein in the dragon." Tears glistened in the old Stark lord's eyes. The unspoken words hung between them,

"I hope, for all our sakes."

A/N: Thank you all for the likes and the reviews!

4/6: Minor edits.