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:

Walking back to where he had dropped his coat, Lucian slipped it back on before turning back to face a widely grinning Aerys; eyes alight with an expression of mad glee at what he had just witnessed.

"With your permission Your Grace, I would like to retire to my quarters." Lucian spoke up with a bow of his head. "I feel the need to bathe myself."

Aerys nodded; eyes fixed on the corpse of Harlik Bracken as if it was the most wonderful thing he had seen all week.

XxxXxxXxxX

265 A.C

Lucian Blood. Lord of the ruins of Castamere under the authority of his Liege-Lord Tywin Lannister. For a man who had been just a few short years ago nothing more than a pet and before that a commoner Knight, it was quite the step up.

Currently the man was ascending the many steps up to the Tower of the Hand; a thoughtful frown on his face as he considered his place here, in King's Landing.

With Castamere still under reconstruction by order and funding of the Houses of both Lannister and Targaryen, the Wolf had been living in the Red Keep under the hospitality of both the King himself and the Hand of the King; his Lord Tywin Lannister.

For the duration of his stay at King's Landing, Tywin had been educating Lucian in everything he needed to know in order to smoothly make the transition into the life of a high-born noble. The castle's Grand-Maester Pycelle had been teaching Lucian in the more fundamental and basic knowledge, helping him learn the letters and words of Westeros' written language as well as many other fields that all children of nobility learnt from a young age.

Under Tywin, Lucian had learned practically everything he needed. Tywin had engaged his new vassal in hypothetical scenarios and simulations to properly teach taxation and the requirements for if and when a call-to-arms was sent out.

It had been, different from what Lucian was more comfortable with. In his time back in Romania when he had squired under Vladislaus, he had not been taught as to how his old friend had managed the taxes and upkeep of his lands.

It had been a month ago that Tywin had announced that Lucian was as prepared as he could be for when Castamere was ready to receive him. Pycelle had completed his education and Lucian's grasp of the politics and finer details of ruler-ship as a Vassal lord was competent to Lannister standards. Meaning he could outshine the Vassal Lords of both the Riverlands and the Reach.

This also meant that there was nothing really for him to do in King's Landing any longer. He had been able to keep himself busy through the need for education in order to step into this new life that had been given to him and now, with that out of the way, there was little for him do to.

Thankfully Tywin had been able to provide an answer.

Joanna was Pregnant.

The wife of the Lion of the Rock had visited several weeks ago to see her husband as well as allow the twin's Jaime and Cersei to spend time with their father now that they were more, active. During that visit it seemed, the Lady Lannister had returned to Casterly Rock with child.

Tywin had been overjoyed upon the delivery of the news via Raven and had wasted no time in instructing Lucian that he would be making way to Casterly Rock where he would stand as protection for her over the duration of her pregnancy.

It had been quite humbling for him when Lucian had been asked to keep Joanna safe. It told of the trust and comfort that Tywin had in him to watch over his wife whom the young Warden loved above all else. That Tywin had faith enough in him to not only keep his beloved wife safe from harm, but that he believed in Lucian's loyalty enough to trust that the wolf would make no untoward advances on his wife.

It had been, a pleasant feeling for Lucian that day, to learn of the trust and regard his new friend had already gained toward him.

He was set to make the journey back west, all packed and quite looking forward to the opportunity to traverse the distance in his wolf form and enjoy the wind on his fur and the exercise when a declaration had been made by the King.

A tourney, held in the honor of the Crown Prince Rhaegar's sixth Name Day set to be held in just under a months time over the course of seven days of festivities and contests. Already Aerys had the Master of Games preparing the field and overseeing construction of the stands and barriers for the Joust as well as the other competitions that would be scheduled for the Tournament such as the Melee and the Archery contest.

It was the reason why Lucian was on his way to speak with Tywin. His standing instruction was to make way for Casterly Rock. But with the tourney and the King's expectation of attendance, there was some uncertainty of what exactly he was expected to do.

"I take it you have learned of the King's latest mad scheme?" Tywin spoke up as Lucian entered the room, not even looking up from his work as the large man made entry.

"The castle staff are still in gossip over who will compete." Lucian commented as he stepped over to the side of Tywin's office and poured himself a glass of wine. "Last I heard there is a wager going on amongst them as to how long before Ser Barristan announces his participation."

Tywin scoffed as he pressed his Seal as Hand into a lump of melted wax that held close a missive. "Ser Barristan is Kingsguard. As someone charged with the protection of the King and his family, a Kingsguard cannot afford to be seen as lesser than any other. If he does compete it will be in the Joust only."

Lucian 'hmm'ed' thoughtfully as he sipped at his drink. Barristan Selmy was considered quite a gifted swordsman. Most if not all the betting that the castle servants were engaging in was concerning his participation in the Melee. They were sure to be disappointed when they learned of this little detail.

"And you?"

The grey eyed man looked over to the golden haired lord, raising an eyebrow in silent question.

"Which event will you be partaking in?"

"That was actually why I came here." Lucian admitted. "I am set to make way to Casterly Rock and now the King announces a tournament for the Prince."

Tywin nodded in understanding, silently pleased that Lucian had chosen to come to him with the query of who's order to follow; the order of his Lord which is to go to Casterly Rock. Or that of the King which would be to compete. That it was even a question at all gave proof that the new Lord of Castamere had given his fealty to Casterly Rock and not the Iron Throne.

"It would be an unneeded slight against the Crown to not take part in tournament when you were here in King's Landing when its coming was announced." Tywin commented thoughtfully. "No I believe that it would be best for you to remain here just until Prince Rhaegar's Name Day celebration is done with."

Lucian nodded in understanding. In the years following his arrival at King's Landing Aerys had started to lose interest in him. But that loss of interest was not enough to fail to notice if he, a newly appointed Lord, departed and was therefore absent from an event that The King himself had declared.

"So which will you put your name to?"

The tall Werewolf eased himself into the chair opposite Tywin, offering a second glass of wine he had poured to the man before leaning back and nursing his own. "We had Jousting in my homeland. It was, originally, a tactic for mounted warfare before it was used as a competitive sport. I have little interest in something that has been turned into what is essentially a game for children playing at war."

Tywin nodded in understanding. It had come up a number of times over the passed three years. The difference that Lucian had taken note of in the Knights of Westeros compared to the Order of Knights he had come from in his homeland of Romania. His large friend had pointed out that he had found Westerosi Knights seemed more concerned with the image of the shining Knight than with combat and warfare as it was where he had come from.

By Lucian's standard a Knight was to be the best soldier on the battlefield. A commander who fought harder and longer. The first to enter and the last to leave. A Tourney was meant to serve as a means for the common folk to see their protectors in a more peaceful light to foster trust and respect.

Not for the nobility to canter about in an event of self-glorious vanity.

"If anything I suppose I will compete in the Melee." Lucian concluded with a shrug. "Archery was never something I particularly excelled in beyond simple hunting. And it has been a long, long time since I last raced on a horse."

"Very well, I will have the Master of Games informed and your signature added to those entering the Melee." Tywin said with an approving nod. "Already I have heard that my good friend Steffon Baratheon has put his name to the Melee. I believe I will quite enjoy seeing who will emerge the victor."

Lucian cocked an eyebrow and offered an amused smirk to his lord and friend. "Why my Lord, I did not know you harboured such bloodlust. Should I expect to see you in the ring as well?"

Tywin scoffed, the faintest of smiles belying the seemingly strict and disapproving noise. "And find myself under the boot of either Steffon or yourself? I think not. I think I will indulge myself with the Archery contest."

"The Hand of the King proving his skill with a bow? It seems the both of us will enjoy some amusing sights in the coming month."

"You might enjoy it, but I do believe that a great many others will be reminded of the danger my reach still presents." Tywin replied with a glint in his eye. "A chance to remind people of the 'Rains of Castamere' as it were."

"Which reminds me." Lucian paused for a moment, considering his words thoughtfully. "The Rains of Castamere. From my lessons I understand that it is the song of how you were able to quell a rebellion in the Westerlands. A Rebellion started by the house that once owned the lands that you gifted to me."

Tywin nodded in confirmation. "Yes. Under the rule of my father, the vassal lords of the Westerlands took loans from House Lannister continuously without first paying any preceding debts. When I returned from the War of the Ninepenny King's I along with my brothers sought to restore the power of our house. I called for the repayment of all debts. Those without the ability to settle would instead send a hostage as collateral."

Lucian remembered as much. It had been one of the things that annoying toady Pycelle had seemed to take great pleasure trying to beat into his head. The ultimate lesson; never mess with the Lions of Casterly Rock.

"There were two houses that refused to fall into line. House Tarbeck of Tarbeck Hall and House Reyne of Castamere. They foolishly believed that under my father's rule they could dictate terms and force their Lord to act to their whims." Tywin's expression hardened and his fists clenched in anger at the remembered defiance. "My father was more than happy to bend to those traitors. I was not. When the Tarbeck's and Reyne's renounced their fealty to my House and declared open rebellion I gathered an army and marched on their homes."

"Where you proceeded to slaughter them en masse, down to the last man, woman and child." Lucian spoke up.

"You disapprove." It was not a question but a statement. Tywin could hear it, however faint, in the other man's voice.

Lucian simply shrugged. "In a perfect world? Yes I would. But in this kind of situation; where a statement must be delivered to reach beyond this conflict? It was a necessary evil. I simply hope that it is something that you understand that, necessary or not, evil is still evil."

Tywin's hard gaze softened only a fraction as he nodded minutely; grateful to hear of his friends acceptance of his actions as well as pleased to hear an honest remark and advice in the wake of it. He could count his Brother Kevan and his Wife Joanna as the only people who had the courage to speak so honestly to him instead of simply agreeing out of fear of reprisal. To have another who was not afraid to speak above his station and to do so honestly.

Truly Lord Lucian Blood would be a great boon to both himself, and his family.

"And so came 'The Rains of Castamere'. A cautionary song of warning to all those who would consider rebellion against me and mine." Tywin concluded.

"Something that has been quite successful in the four years since. Which leads me to the problem I face."

Lucian rose from his seat and moved over to the side of the office where he refilled his glass before holding the jug of wine up in silent offer to Tywin who simply waved a hand in refusal.

"If I am to take possession of Castamere and rule its land's for you, I am afraid that the legend you have created will either lose its sting or prevent me from establishing myself amongst the other Vassal Lords."

It was an understandable conclusion. There was no connection between the newly created House of Blood; consisting of only Lucian himself, but the name Castamere had become synonymous with rebellion and treachery. The reputation of House Blood would be tarnished from its inception.

"Reconstruction is underway at Castamere. You cannot be suggesting construction of a new castle instead. Not after three years of gold and effort has already been put into that place."

Lucian shook his head, pausing to drain his cup of wine in a single gulp. "No that is not my thought. I was more in line with the thinking of a, change of identity for Castamere. I have, just as you I am sure, received Raven's carrying designs for a revision of much of Castamere's layout. With a new name it would be much easier to simply claim that, well, that the Rains of Castamere have finally washed away and a new castle has been built in its place."

The young Warden of the West nodded in thought. He liked the little poetic wording Lucian had offered in 'The Rains of Castamere washing away,' it was something that Joanna would have openly laughed at. Overall though, it was well within the realm of reason.

"And what would you call this new castle of yours? If it is to truly no longer be Castamere, what then, will be the home of the Lord of Blood?"

"Hearthstone."

XxxX

There was a sound of metal tapping against metal that broke through the regular sounds of activity in the Red Keep's Bailey, with the Castle's men-at-arms and workers that maintained the Keep's Stable and maintenance facilities glancing over every so often at the Smithy.

It was only a week till the Crown Prince's Name Day Tourney. Lords, Knights; sworn, landed and hedge alike all had been pouring into the city for days now in preparation for the event. Some the King had personally greeted; usually those coming from one of the Great Houses such as the Lord Paramount of the Trident Hoster Tully, while simply directed to the cleaner areas of King's Landing where lodging had been prepared for them.

None of that was really in the mind of those that worked and passed through the Bailey though. Initial discussion and gossip over the arrival of the different lords was brief and quickly concluded. But the strange Lord that had seemingly taken over the Keep Forge for over two weeks now, that held a bit more curiosity.

While it was never said aloud, many of the men who worked the Bailey had been amused at first; the very thought of a Lord working a Smith, it just left them all with the amusing sight of that Lord running out having burned or injured himself with nothing but a lump of twisted metal or fragments to show for it.

After a week however, their expectations were, revised.

The occasional peek into the Smith to see what this Lord was doing left many if not all witnesses very near awe at what they had seen.

A giant of a man, nearly seven feet in height, eyes as hard as the steel that he worked and powerful lean muscles pulled tight under bare skin working in heat that even the Keep's resident Blacksmith would have only done under the protection of his apron. Rumor had spread of this man of course. The new Lord elevated to station by the Hand of the King.

Lucian Blood.

Everyone had heard of how he had brutally executed an Oath-Breaker three years passed with nought but his bare hands. Of how he had bested a Kingsguard unarmed and killed the man as easily as one would step on a spider.

And here he was, working the Forge as if he had been born to it.

For Lucian himself, despite the calm nature of his outward expression; was feeling a touch of frustration.

It had been a very long time since he had last worked a Forge. Not since before his imprisonment in Castle Dracula when time would allow for him to visit his father. He still remembered the steps and methodology well enough, in fact as time went on in the Red Keep's Smithy he had found that his need to refer to the journals of his father that he had liberated from Dracula's hands has lessened.

Jacob; the man that served as the Red Keep's live in Blacksmith had been quite helpful, collecting the materials he needed for his work. The man hadn't even raised question as to the nature of some of the, stranger things that had been asked for nor raised complaint when Lucian had effectively banished the man from his own workshop.

Lucian did not want the man figuring out the secrets that his father had left for him. The secret behind the forging of Damascus Steel.

It has taken more time than he would have preferred. A small number of failed attempts due to his own failure in timing as well as imperfections in the hammering process. But after a week of tireless progress and modification of his efforts; refining his methods and timing, Lucian was successful.

The shaping and molding of the many pieces of his work was what was now taking its time. He had, by now been forced to abandon the large equipment and tools in favor of smaller, more delicate tools as the pieces got smaller. Shaping out a knuckle and finger joint with careful precision.

Gauntlets. That was what he was making. He wasn't all that concerned with forging a blade or some kind of traditional weapon to use for the Melee. It had been so long since he had last held a blade that he felt he would first need to train himself back into familiarity before using one in a live combat situation. He was not in the mood to embarrass himself trying to use something he had not held for four hundred years.

No, he considered that, for now, it would be best that he rely on the weapon he had grown to rely upon whenever Dracula had thrown him into his fighting pits to entertain him and his wives.

His claws.

He could not shift his form in so public a place as a Tourney Melee. Not only was it severe overkill for such a small thing, but it would serve only to make him a monster in the eyes of everyone watching. He had the physical strength and agility to handle himself, he just needed to weaponize his hands.

He had specifically smelted the metal with a black dye to alter the color of the metal and had thus far been able to properly shape and forge the joints and plates to needed to assemble the Gauntlets with only the final joints for the right index finger needing final adjustments.

It was a couple of hours later, when he was in the process of assembly and heating up the pins to properly secure the joints and hinges of the Gauntlet to allow for as much articulation as possible when he heard two steady heartbeats approaching from behind.

Turning his head to peer over his shoulder; Lucian took note of a carefully stoic Tywin; containing his curiosity for what he was doing, and another man. The man that had accompanied the Young Lannister Lord was a large figure, perhaps only a couple of inches shorter than he himself was and with a powerfully built figure with muscle visible even under the fine silk shirt that covered his arms. Short windswept black hair and a neatly trimmed beard with bright, glinting blue eyes completed the image of a strong, youthful man.

"Still hard at work. The Tourney starts a week hence and the Melee itself the fourth day in. will you be ready?" Tywin commented as he had his companion made proper entry into the Smithy.

Lucian nodded briefly before turning back to his work. "I'm in the final stages of assembly now. Perhaps two, three days of stress testing and I should be ready enough."

"Very well then." Tywin seemed satisfied with that. "Allow me to make introductions then. Lord Lucian Blood, this is an old friend of mine; the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands Steffon Baratheon."

Lucian stepped away from his work and turned to face the introduced Lord Paramount, recognising that some respect was needed given the clear difference in station. With a quick bow, Lucian greeted the only slightly shorter man. "My Lord."

Steffon just unleashed a massive grin and stepped forward to slap his hands down on Lucian's bare shoulders. "HA! So formal! No wonder this Little Lion picked you up!"

Tywin shook his head slightly, used to the Lord of Storm's End's antics enough to not take offence.

"When Tywin told me he had picked up a new Lord for his lands I feared he had found another tiny little boot-licker more interested in shiny gold and soft women." Steffon boomed loudly, stepping back from the bare chested Wolf to get a good look at him. "I see that I could not have been more wrong. I think the last time I ever had to look up at a man was when I was but a boy and my own father was still Lord of Storm's End."

Lucian cocked an eyebrow. "I have heard of the current Lord of the Stormlands. Given your age, I would assume this was only a few weeks ago when you were a boy?"

Steffon lost his smile, staring at the Werewolf intently for a moment. Lucian was beginning to believe that he had overstepped; gotten the wrong impression of this man's temperament when he saw the Baratheon's shoulder's shaking.

"HA! That's good!" Steffon laughed loudly, his entire body seeming to shake with every heave of laughter that burst out from him. "Be warned though. I may be still in my youth, but I'll best you in the Melee regardless."

Lucian shrugged. This man definitely looked physically able. More so than many of the men that he had seen in the Red Keep. He had been able to get a faint idea of the strength Steffon Baratheon. possessed by the power of his grip when Steffon had clapped his hands down on his shoulders. He was quite strong for a human. Stronger than anyone he could actually recall from his days in the Holy Order in fact.

"You intend to partake in the Melee?" The former Romanian asked.

"The Long Night could not stop me my friend!" Steffon boomed. "As a favor to my good friend Tywin I shall do my best to not cave in your skull with my hammer."

Lucian replied with a toothy grin; he liked this man. "And I'll do my best not to leave you face first in the mud during the opening round."

Tywin shook his head and stepped forward, reaching out to push a hand against Steffon's chest; the man allowing himself to be pushed back a step. "Enough. You can posture later. Show me what you have been working on Lucian. I have spoken to the Blacksmith and he could give me no answers."

Lucian nodded in compliance and turned to pick up the right handed gauntlet. It was the one he had been assembling first and only the thumb was missing. Inserting his hand into the black plated armor and adjusting the fit, he turned back and held it up for examination.

"I have yet to fit it onto leather and detail the final touches, but, well here you go."

Tywin blinked in confusion. "It's armor."

"Yes."

"I thought you said you intended to forge a weapon for the Melee."

Lucian smirked and, rolling his wrist and flexing his fingers, walked over to where a wooden stand was holding a steel plate Cuirass on display. Cocking his fist back he stepped forward and into a punch that snapped out and into the steel plated armor.

There was a sound of metal on metal and a brief shriek of steel tearing. When Lucian pulled his hand back, Steffon's eyes were wide open in astonishment when he saw the sizeable dent that had been driven into the Cuirass and the small jagged rip in the steel where the gauntlet's ridged and sharpened knuckles had punctured through.

Looking from the armor and to the gauntlet; seeing that the armor covering the man's hand was still completely intact Steffon frowned. "That's not possible. Even with the strength to actually dent plate armor, the gauntlet should have also deformed with the blow. What is that made of?"

"Valyrian Steel."

Steffon turned back to Tywin quickly at this, shock on his face. He saw the Hand of the King standing by the work bench, examining a knuckle that was part of the left hand assembly. Walking up behind the golden haired man he peered over his friends shoulder and gaped when he saw the iconic rippling effect that was unique to the legendary blades of Old Valyria.

"Valyrian Steel armor? I would have thought-"

"It's not Valyrian Steel." Lucian interrupted, inciting only further astonishment from the two Lord Paramounts. "According to the Grand-Maester's lessons; Valyrian Steel requires Magic in its forging and it is believed that Dragon Fire is needed to properly create it. I have no Magic, no Dragon Fire. What you have there, is Damascus Steel. The product of a style of ore smelting and forging from my homeland and my Father."

"Amazing. It looks just like Valyrian Steel." Tywin commented, holding the knuckle piece up to the light and watching as the ripples seemed to move like water in the shifting light.

"There are similarities between the two." Lucian confessed. "Damascus Steel forged blades are extremely durable and can hold a sharper edge than normal steel and iron. But it lacks the enduring quality that I am told Valyrian Steel possesses."

"And you possess the knowledge to create more of this Damascus Steel?" Tywin asked, a glint in his eye as he returned the knuckle back to the work bench.

"In my homeland, the secrets of Damascus Steel originate from a different name called Wootz Steel. The secrets to create this were kept in a small, isolated society." Lucian explained. "I originally come from a family of Blacksmiths and in his youth; my father travelled the land to expand upon his knowledge of the trade. He returned home the only outsider to know the secrets to forging this alloy. That knowledge passed down to me."

There was a brief moment of silence in the Smithy, as both Steffon and Tywin looked at the rippled metal and swallowed this new knowledge of a metal that could potentially be compared to the legendary metal of the Valyrian Freehold that had since been lost to the Doom.

"Well then. You do know what this means don't you Tywin?" Steffon asked, surprisingly mellow and calm.

Tywin simply raised an eyebrow and looked at his taller friend with a warning look in his eye.

Steffon simply grinned widely. "If you're not careful, I might just convince House Blood to find their future in the Stormlands instead."

Lucian scoffed under his breath and muttered 'unlikely' softly as he walked over to the workbench, returning to his work.

Tywin, who had heard the whispered mutter allowed a smile to form on his face before it turned into a challenging smirk.

"Good luck."

XxxXxxXxxX

A/N:

Alrighty then. As is the usual. This is the latest chapter for Never Alone (obviously). The opening part of a two part chapter to introduce some more GoT characters and maybe some new ones.

We hope you all like our characterisation of Steffon Baratheon.; Robert, Stannis and Renly's father. His personality was built upon a general impression we got from seeing what he looked like in the awoiaf webpage. He just looks like...well; Game of Throne Thor with black hair really.

At this point in time the main GoT cast are just children or not even born yet really. So the older generation like Tywin, Steffon, Hoster and the Queen of Thorns in their youth are all up and about.

Next week should be Zero Chakra Plan.

Read. Favorite. Follow, review….and maybe recommend to others if you wouldn't mind. Lets see if we can't get Never Alone more widespread.

Later Bitches! *drops mic*