Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim to own the collective works of Van Helsing, Game of Thrones, A Song of Ice and Fire or anything that may come into the following Fan made piece of fiction. This is meant for enjoyment alone.

"By the words of my house know that I am Never Alone." speech.

'wow, I didn't think stupidity could come in such a small package as that Joffrey cunt.' thought/flashback monologuing.

"█▄▄██▄▄▄██▄▄█" Wolf howl/roar/etc.

XxxXxxXxxX

Previously:

With the resolve that had come to him over the course of centuries of the desire to endure and live in spite of his imprisonment, Lucian threw himself through the portal. Into the mirror-door that failed an instant later to show nothing but the solid rock of the cliff it had been carved into.

On the other side of this doorway, in a matching mirror deep within Transylvania at Valarious Castle; nothing emerged. Van Helsing, his close friend Friar Carl, new found friend in Frankenstein's monster and realised love Anna Valarious only watched as the mirror shifted back into a large detailed map of the country.

Lucian was never seen again.

XxxXxxXxxX

262 A.C

It was, warm.

That was the first thing he registered when he fell to the earth in a flash of light and shower of ice and snow. The trunk he had taken with him from Castle Dracula crashed down a few feet from him with a solid thud, its craftsmanship easily weathering the impact.

For Lucian, whom had spent over four hundred years deep within the dungeons of the Vampire Lord far from the warmth of natural light, the bright sunlight was biting to his eyes, forcing the ragged man to clench them shut and bite back a wince as he reached out to clamp his hands over his head to fight back the bright stabbing pain.

It took some doing, squinting through barely parted fingers, to find some measure of shade and shelter from the sunlight. A large, ancient tree provided that relief and Lucian stumbled over to it blindly to half collapse against its trunk and slide down to the ground. To any normal human it would have taken days to make the adjustment to the light. So long spent in darkness to be pushed out into the midday sunlight there was no way any regular mortal could make the transition with any ease.

For him, one who had been stolen from his mortality by the curse that had caused his once dear friend to turn against him and cage him like an animal; it took a mere fraction of the time. Within a few minutes the pain of the light had subsided enough for him to remove his hands from his face. Another ten minutes following that and he was soon squinting carefully, biting back a hiss of pain as he forced his eyes to adjust through the lingering torment.

A half an hour later since his arrival in this place and Lucian was looking around at the beautiful landscape of golden browns, reds and oranges of autumn trees and rolling grass. He couldn't help it; a wide, tearful smile stretched across his face as he took in the land that was his freedom. The crisp wind brushed against his skin; slipping under the mouldy and torn tunic that was barely together enough to cover his chest. A moment later and it wasn't as Lucian ripped it off him, stretching his arms out wide as he dropped the torn clothing to enjoy the air against his skin.

Taking in a deep breath the Werewolf frowned when he was reminded of his own, particularly foul, odor. It had been something he had long since been able to ignore during the centuries of captivity. The smell of his own body had blended in with the cell. Out here however, with the fresh air and the natural smells of the surrounding wilderness as a comparison, he reeked.

Walking over to where his trunk had fallen, he easily picked it up with one hand and hefted it up to rest on a shoulder before turning around to examine his surroundings. Ruling out the scent coming from himself he was able to pick up the barely recognisable smell of water and set off in what he believed to be east and downhill from what seemed to be the foot of a great mountain range.

Lucian didn't travel with any sense of expediency. He was in no hurry to get to his destination and had nothing pressing to push him in haste. He took the time to enjoy the sights and sounds of his newfound freedom. He truly did owe Gabriel for freeing him.

There was, however one problem that he was starting to take note of as he travelled in the direction of the river he could smell.

The mirror portal that he had passed through. The same one that Gabriel and his companions had used to come to Castle Dracula and used to escape back to Romania. It should have brought him to the same location as them. He should have emerged from the other side to see the Hunter and his friends if not waiting for him then at least within range of his senses. But that was not the case. He could not hear, see nor smell any hint of humanity in the area nor did the geography match what he could remember of Eastern Europe.

Not that it mattered to be honest. Even if the portal had cast him far from Europe, maybe into Africa or deep into Asia, there was nothing for him back home. After so long both Mother and Father had long since passed into death and any legacy of their name would have long since died with them. If anything it was preferable this way. So far in the unknown the likelihood of The Holy Order dispatching someone like Gabriel to track him down and succeeding were highly unlikely to the point of impossibility.

A new life. It was, welcome.

At his slow, steady pace, it took a few hours to find his way to the banks of wide river. Again there were no signs of civilisation or human presence in the area, no hunting trails or structures near the river. So after setting his sole possession in the shade of a nearby tree, Lucian took a running leap into the river, diving headfirst into the cool, refreshing water with a loud splash.

The remnants of his ratty clothing were torn off and tossed back up to the river bank in short order. He spent quite some time swimming in the river. Scrubbing the filth out of his matted hair and beard and cleaning at his body as best he could. While it took time to scrub the filth, dirt and even dried blood off his body that had accumulated over the centuries, soon enough the reasonably clean former Knight was lazily floating on his back in the river, eyes closed as he took in the peace and gentle sounds of the river and birds that sang overhead heedless of his nudity.

His enjoyment soon came to an end when a shift in the pit of his stomach reminded him of something that he had become quite used to ignoring in his time at Castle Dracula: hunger.

Swimming over to the riverbank, Lucian climbed out of the river and up to his feet, casting his gaze around. The 'ever hospitable' Count had not been all that concerned with making sure that his 'pet' was well fed and so it was not often that Lucian had been able to feed his stomach. But now, he wasn't bound under such conditions. He could feed his hunger accordingly; provided he could find food.

Sucking in a deep breath Lucian centered himself before rolling his shoulders. The midday sun was no Full Moon and would prevent one of his blood from shifting and hunting in wolf form. But he was no newborn pet of Dracula. He was the First. He was old. He was the Wolf.

A sharp crack snapped out from his body as the shift started, a grimace crossing his face as he felt his spine break and rapidly change shape, his muscles twisting and growing as the man was peeled away to reveal the wolf beneath. Literally as his skin shed from his body to reveal pitch black fur beneath. His arms bulged and thickened and his fingers cracked as razor sharp claws grew from his nails. His face twisted as his skull changed form and a muzzle grew out, gleaming white fangs growing in place of his teeth and his steel grey eyes glowed briefly before settling as the change came to its conclusion.

As quick as it came the man that was Lucian was gone, leaving a monstrous bipedal wolf, looming at nearly ten feet in height with black fur as dark as a moonless night.

Dropping down to all fours briefly, Lucian shook his body, shaking off the river water still clinging to him, before stretching out his limbs, loosening his arms and legs as he familiarised himself with his form. Letting out a barking cough to clear his throat, the wolf shook his head with a sneeze to clear his nose.

With the lingering stiffness and kinks of the transformation gone from his body, Lucian took in a deep breath and with it the varying smells of the woodland he was in.

Several birds; small, flighty. All fleeing from the riverbank at the terror his transformation inspired. Rabbits, cowering in warrens for similar reasons. Too small to be worth his time digging them out.

Ah, there! Deer.

Too far away to have sensed the sudden appearance of a predator by the result of his transformation and upwind of him so unable to catch his scent. A savage mockery of a grin formed when his lips pulled back to expose his fanged maw. Venison sounded good.

With one last glance back to his trunk, senses taking note of the location with sight, smell and his own internal compass, Lucian crouched; muscles coiling tightly before leaping forward into a dead sprint, his pulse racing with excitement as the thrill of the hunt came over him swiftly.

Time to eat.

XxxX

The cabin room shook, jostling the four occupants; a grown woman clad in finery and riches that only the highest and wealthiest of nobility could afford with her Handmaiden and two newborn infants, as the Wheel House the three were in hit and ran over a small divot in the road. The jarring movement woke the youngest of the twins, eliciting a cry from him as he voiced his displeasure at being awoken clearly and loudly.

The noble woman; known to all in the Westerlands as Joanna Lannister, Lady-wife of the Warden of the West cooed to her baby as she scooped him up from his bassinet to cradle to her bosom.

To her everlasting joy the Lady of Casterly Rock had given birth to her children just two months past. Blessed with twins; a boy to carry on the legacy of her Lord-husband and a girl to raise under her own care, Joanna had wasted no time in ordering preparations to be made for the journey to King's Landing so she could present her beloved with his newborn children.

Her Lord-Husband; Tywin Lannister; Lord of Casterly Rock, Shield of Lannisport and Warden of the West had been absent from their home for some time. Called by Aerys Targaryen the King of the Seven Kingdom's to serve as Hand of the King when her Good-Father Tytus Lannister had still ruled as Warden of the West during the early days of their union. Because of this duty and the demands of the still relatively newly crowned King, Tywin had been forced to devote most of his time to Kings Landing with only able to return to Casterly Rock rarely to maintain his place as heir to the Westerlands and to tend to her; his Lady-wife.

It was only the third year into King Aerys' rule and to her own personal sorrow Tywin's visits home could still be counted by hand. Even the Rayne Rebellion two years previous had seen Tywin only in the Westerlands long enough to put it down and take up his place as Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West from his father before Aerys called for his Hand to return to King's Landing.

Truth to be told, were it not for the birth of her children and her want to present them to their father, she would not be making the journey to King's Landing. The overall state of the place aside she could not stomach the very thought of stepping foot into the Red Keep and the presence of the King. To stand under his leering gaze knowing; most likely due to his clearly vocal comments, his desires to bed her. That the King would continue to make such thoughts clear for all to hear in the presence of his own Hand; her Husband, was beyond the pale.

She was quite content remaining in the Westerlands, far from the smell of the King's city and the King himself.

As for the journey itself, it was long and uncomfortable even after a month of travel from Casterly Rock and having only passed Deep Den which marked merely the first third of the overall trip. It was a blessing itself that the Gold Road that connected Casterly Rock and King's Landing was paved as it is. Joanna shuddered to think of how difficult an ordeal it would have proven to be had she been forced to take any of the other roads. Like the King's Road that connected to The North; rock, dirt and filled with holes from rainfall.

According to Ser Cyrus Kenning; the Knight in charge of her protective detail, they were still expected to be on the road for a further six weeks if the weather held as it was.

The crying of little Jaime faded as the infant fell back asleep; lulled by his mother's warmth and drew Joanna out of her musings as she gazed down at his sleeping face with the loving fondness only a mother could know.

"Rest now my Little Lion. The world will hear your roar soon enough."

XxxX

It had been nearly three weeks since he had come to this new place. Nearly three weeks of wonderful, glorious freedom with no darkness and monsters to weigh down on him with their own cruelty and vile machinations to force upon him.

And Lucian was loving every moment of it. He had not felt the need to explore out of the woodland he had first arrived in. There was no great desire to find any signs of civilisation or even to determine where in the world he had appeared. There were no responsibilities that required him anywhere. Whatever form the Holy Order had taken after four hundred years would no classify him as just another monster to hunt and destroy. His family had long since perished to time and the only friend he had ever known had long since become a monster to his memory and was now dead. There was literally nowhere he had to be.

However. That all being said. He was drawing close to becoming bored. The first week had been a wonderful period of enjoying the open environment; hunting and swimming and sleeping on the grass beneath the stars.

After several days of that he had poured through the stolen contents of the massive chest he had brought with him from Castle Dracula; sorting through the leather bound tomes he had taken from the Vampire's extensive library and the assortment of clothing, and some smithing tools that had caught his eye.

Over the course of the following days that had brought him up to the two and a half weeks since his escape of Castle Dracula, Lucian had poured through a few of his newly acquired books; reading up on smithing techniques and methods that he had once known intimately from his childhood growing up in Romania under his father who had been a Blacksmith of some renown.

It had been a point of pride for his family that they had learned and mastered forging techniques that allowed for the successful smelting and forging of Damascus grade steel. In fact it had been this skill that had seen his family being contracted by the Holy Order for armaments. The very same relationship that had brought the man who would become the Lord of all Vampires to his door to make a young Lucian his Squire.

Lucian had only just now finished repacking the chest earlier that morning; intent on moving away from the river he had been camped out by for that time. Freedom was all well and good but there was only so much one could have before boredom set in and drove one to go out and do something, anything. Lucian had enjoyed his time to laze around in the sunlight and stare up at the stars at night. But he could not tolerate the inactivity for much longer.

He had found a pair of pants to replace the rags he had been forced into during his captivity, a bit tight given his overall build was larger than that of Dracula's to whom the clothing had been tailored for originally.

He had spent his time completely naked before but the understanding of public decency and the fact that he was intending on seeking out civilisation meant that he required to actually wear the clothing he had brought with him.

The shirts he had found were too tight to fit across his broad chest; something he had found out after ripping three after squeezing into them. There was a long coat that he had found and brought with him but given the fate that had befallen the shirts, he wasn't about to destroy the rich leather it was made from; instead making a point to remember to have it brought to a tailor if he could find one to have it refitted for someone his size.

With the trunk repacked, Lucian had taken the shirts he had inadvertently destroyed and tied them together to wrap up a leftover haunch of deer meat from his latest kill. With that hanging from a belt at his waist, the man heaved the trunk up and rested it on a shoulder before turning away from the river.

A deep breath in to take in the surrounding smells and, just as the countless times before, found no indications of nearby human life. With a mental shrug at the lack of help in picking a direction, Lucian headed south. With any luck if he stayed relatively close to the foot of the mountains he might come across a settlement.

XxxX

Joanna did her best to ignore the weeping of her handmaiden; who was cowering on the floor of the Wheel House in fear and leaving her Lady to remain seated on the carriage's comfortable velvet lined cushioned seats. Thankfully both Jaime and Cersei were asleep; undisturbed by the shouting, screaming and truthfully frightening sounds of combat that were raging just outside. While in truth Joanna herself was afraid, rightfully so, it did not cause her to blubber and wail like a child as she looked through the narrow gap of her window to watch, helplessly, as her guards were overwhelmed and losing ground against a large force of Bandits that had ambushed the caravan.

It had been two and a half weeks since the procession had left Deep Den when the Wheel House had suffered an accident. One of the wheels had splintered and broken off its axle; most likely a result of the rough conditions of the stone cobbled road according to Ser Cyrus who had informed her of the delay.

The coachman had, with the aid of a servant that had been brought along to see to the needs of herself and the guard detail, quickly gotten to work in repairing and replacing the broken wheel to resume the journey when they had fallen under attack.

While to her own eye, the ambush had struck with the swiftness and force of a planned attack, Joanna knew it had to be an attack of opportunity given that it had been the breaking of one of the wheels of the Wheel House that had provided the opening for their ambush.

From her limited view, the Lady of House Lannister was able to see to her own horror as, while the Bandits paid for it twice, even three times over, her guards fell one after the other. Ser Cyrus had been the latest to fall in death; valiantly defending the Wheel House and personally slaying six bandits before being overwhelmed and killed.

A guard detail of ten Lannister men consisting of seven infantry and two experienced Knights under the command of Ser Cyrus Kenning brought down to maybe one or two guards and a single Knight from what she could see. And there were still nearly two dozen bandits surrounding the Wheel House.

A tear fell from her eye as the fear of what was to come hit her. The fear of what these men would do to not only her, but her children.

And by the jeering and mocking laughter of the brigands as they took down another of her guard; they all were thinking about it as well.

How could such a force of criminals have gone unnoticed like this so close to the Gold Road? It was the single most patrolled road in the entire Seven Kingdoms. Watched over by men of the Westerlands loyal to the Lannister name and men of the Crownlands loyal to the Iron Throne. It might have been within the realm of belief for small bands of perhaps half a dozen or a dozen at most to escape notice if they avoided the road and chose to attack traders that travelled along back roads to the smaller neighboring holds, but for a band of this size to attack along the Gold Road itself?

The terror had almost mounted high enough within the young noblewoman that she very nearly missed the movement in the trees beyond the Bandits. With a blink and wipe of her hands against her eyes to clear the tears that she feared were obscuring her vision to cause her to see phantoms, Joanna's eyes widened when she saw him.

A massive man, towering in size and powerfully muscled from what she could see with his bare chest on display, charging forward. With a heavy beard and long tangled black hair, the new arrival looked as savage as the stories she had heard of the Dothraki across the Narrow Sea. Clad in only a pair of black leather pants with his broad, muscled chest bare to the world and steel grey eyes burning with an almost primal rage, Joanna watched in awe as he grabbed one of the bandits that had been firing arrows from the treeline.

With impressive strength that seemed impossible for even the strongest of men, the savage man lifted the unfortunate bandit up over his head before letting out a roar as he upended the man and slammed him head first into the ground, breaking the brigands neck cleanly.

The kill and roar of the man alerted the remaining bandits of the new threat and turned to him.

By the time their focus had properly shifted to the unexpected and hostile arrival, Joann had watched in wide eyed awe as the hulking man had ripped off a thick low hanging branch and thrown it like a spear at another bandit, impaling clean through the man's chest.

XxxX

Lucian had been on the move for several hours by this point. Enjoying the gentle singing of birds and the rustling of leaf blown by the wind, when his eyes narrowed and lips curled up to expose teeth.

Blood.

It was thick in the air, being carried to him by the wind from South-west. It had been quite some time since he had smelt this, going back to shortly before Dracula had succeeded in hunting him down four years after he had become a Vampire and Lucian a Werewolf.

Human Blood.

Judging solely on how powerful the scent was the man was able to easily deduce that not only was the source of the scent close, but far too much blood had been spilt for even one man. And then came the second scent, brought to him by the wind. Fear. It was an unusual scent, unique in that it was beyond the capabilities of a human to detect. But to him, a predator of the highest order, it was as clear and distinct as the blood that preceded it.

It was not the Wolf that answered the call of blood and fear. Lucian did not hunger for human flesh like his old friend had for their blood. No it was the Knight within him that rose up; a part that he had long since thought destroyed to time and suffering.

It rose up in righteous fury, somehow knowing that this was not the fear of a soldier, but the fear of an innocent.

With a snarl, Lucian tightened his hold on the chest perched atop his shoulder and broke forward into a dead sprint, easily reaching and outpacing the speed of any athlete and into the swiftness of a warhorse at full charge.

It took at most ten minutes to reach the source of bloodshed and fear and when his eyes found it, the trunk he was carrying dropped to the ground he clenched his fists and grit his teeth in rage. A carriage, larger than those he had seen before in his homeland and from the looks of its design and the state of the horses tied to it, meant for long distance travel, richly decorated with gold embellishments on carefully red stained wood. It appeared to have broken down, one of its wheels being absent with a set up and spare wheel knocked over giving sign to a repair having been underway. Surrounding the carriage were a number of bodies. Well over a dozen rough looking men clad in mismatched armor of leather and rusted chain-mail with a mere handful of dead bodies clad in rich red and golden armor; most likely the guardsmen for the carriage who had died defending whomever it was that occupied it.

Lucian had arrived just in time to see another of the red and golden guards be slaughtered, run through by a trio of bandits that had been able to disarm the man before thrusting their own swords through his chest. When that death caused a burst of fear to hit him from the carriage, Lucian's grey eyes widened a fraction when he saw a terrified face peering through a cracked open window, terrified green eyes watching with the kind of fear that only a doomed soul could know.

When he saw that Lucian responded with all the righteous fury that he felt both as a former Knight of the Holy Order and as a Wolf. Sparing not a thought to the chest he had dropped, Lucian charged forward, arms already outstretched as he came up behind an archer that was firing on the carriage. Before the fool had even the time to register that he was being attacked, Lucian had grabbed the man by the back of the neck and the seat of his pants to lift him high up in the air; well above his six foot eight tall frame before, with a powerful wolf like roar, flexed his muscles and slammed the man as hard as he could head first into the ground. The sounds of breaking bones that snapped out of the corpse like was akin to the breaking of several branches simultaneously as the bandit died instantly from a broken neck and caved in skull followed by his spine shattering.

The noise he had made had drawn the attention of those closest to their fellow that had just been murdered and turned to face him. Lucian didn't bother waiting for their readiness nor did he waste time announcing himself. Chivalry was not something these men deserved.

Instead he half turned to the tree at his left and grabbed the lowest hanging branch. As wide and thick as his thigh, he tore it off before spinning around and launching it at the next closest bandit. Despite the crooked and twisted shape of the tree limb and the leaves that still covered it, the makeshift weapon shot true to impale clean through the man; going right through the stomach to sick out his back a good two feet.

With two very much dead, Lucian turned his sights on his next targets. The three that had killed that young guardsman that he had witnessed moments ago.

He could see and even smell a modicum of fear wafting out from them, but despite that they all still readied themselves and raised their blades.

He did not allow them to regain momentum.

Lowering his body, Lucian threw himself into a charge, feet pounding at the ground that had the three bandits flinching at the sound of each heavy thud as he advanced at speed. In the time it took those brigands to advance toward him ten feet he had cross the other fifty.

The first bandit died quickly and almost immediately upon contact with the brutal werewolf.

First clenched tightly, Lucian snapped out a devastating punch to the middle bandit.

The blow connected directly over the heart of the bandit who in return heaved out the air in his lungs with a wheeze. Before dropping to the ground dead. His heart having stopped from the force of the blow even as his ribs snapped like dried twigs from the powerful punch.

The sudden death of their comrade and the obvious power behind this half naked stranger caused a moment of hesitation in the other two, allowing for Lucian to reach down and snatch up the rusted sword dropped by the bandit he had just killed. A pivot and backhanded swing decapitated another even as his free hand snapped out to grab the third by the throat. With a snarl, the black haired man tore the rusted edge of his pilfered blade through the last bandits stomach before lifting the sword and the victim up. Gurgling as blood spewed out of his mouth the Bandit died with an expression of pure terror on his face as his organs spilled out of the hole sliced into his stomach as the blade slid up to his chest from the weight of his own body.

Tossing the body off his sword to the side with the careless abandon of someone discarding trash, Lucian fixed his gaze upon the bandit that was closest to the carriage. Several of his fellows were still nearby; ten of their number circling around from the other side of the carriage but they were all ignored as Lucian advanced toward him in particular.

Five bodies in, Lucian made for a terrifying sight in the eyes of the bandit he was approaching. Blood caked the blade in his hand to the point where not a speck of rust could be seen along its edge any more and the life fluid was dripping from his forearms and streaking down his bare chest from the blood spray from the earlier decapitation. The Werewolf's nose twitched when he smelled the man piss himself and allowed a savage grin to cross his face when the bandit retreated back a few steps, shaking that much that he actually dropped his axe out of fear alone.

Along with his fellows, the bandits had been able to not only catch the guard detail of a Lannister off guard and by surprise, but they had been able to decimate the protection surrounding the noble that was doubtlessly cowering within the Wheel House. They had taken casualties, arms and armor combined with training were vastly in the favor of the Lannister men. But numbers had proven the greater advantage allowing the bandits to win in terms of casualties.

But this man. This monster. He had arrived out from nowhere and within moments had ruthlessly and brutally butchered five of them. Three of which had been done so without a weapon in hand.

Stumbling back in fear, the bandit tripped over a body and fell back to the ground. Scrambling back and over the corpse he had tripped over and trying to find a weapon, any weapon!

When a shadow passed over him and blocked the sunlight from him, the bandit looked up and very nearly shit himself in addition to having already pissed his trousers when he saw that giant of a man looming over him, those cold grey eyes peering down at him as if here were nothing more than a particularly annoying rat that had scurried in his path.

"Run."

It came out softly, barely a growl within a breath. But to the terrified bandit. Lucian may as well have screamed at him.

With a scream of his own, voice cracking under the sheer volume of terror that filled every part of him, the bandit scrambled up to his feet and took off as if The Stranger himself had come to Westeros.

That scream. That fleeing man was the tipping point. The sight of all that death and the expressions of fear in the faces of the bandits that had witnessed the swift yet savage slaughter was enough to break the will of even those who had not seen what Lucian was capable of. Still technically outnumbering Lucian and the surviving Knight and two guardsmen three to one, the fear Lucian had instilled was too insurmountable to overcome and they fled. Discarding weapons and makeshift shields in favor for a lighter load to flee all the faster.

Lucian paid no attention to the three surviving soldiers that regrouped close to him; the Knight in plate armor of reds and golds and two lighter armored and equipped men. Instead he kept his gaze fixed upon the fleeing criminals. Staring at them like a starving predator as if briefly contemplating hunting them all down.

In the end he shook his head to clear the blood-thirst away and dropped the sword in his hand to turn back to the carriage, his expression softening to one more welcoming and gentle.

"The threat is gone. Are you unharmed?"

There was a near silent whisper from within the carriage; fearful and desperate sounding as someone within, female from the pitch, urged against opening the door. But they were ultimately ignored as with a soft creak and with tentative caution, the door opened.

XxxXxxXxxX

A/N

alright then. This marks the first official chapter going into 'Never Alone.' apart from the Prologue of course.

A few things going in that we believe should be acknowledged in regards to this story. Apart from what we look up via the internet, we are completely ignorant as to the details of Blacksmithing and everything involved. If we make mistakes sure let us know if you want but apart from that don't expect much I guess.

Now for details regarding timeframe and such. For the most part the timeline of Game of Thrones is being considered and used instead of the timeline for 'A Song of Ice and Fire'. We have taken a liberty already regarding how and when Tywin became Head of House Lannister and Warden of the West. If you have a problem with this…..tough.

Read. Enjoy. REVIEW! look forward to more and hopefully enjoy this as much if not more as we are in writing and developing this. This is the first GoT x with Van Helsing so we hope that it is meeting expectations.

See you next time people!