THE FISH-WOLF POV: one week after THE YOUNG DIREWOLF POV.
THE FAT STAG POV: three weeks after THE QUIET WOLF POV(CH2 Part2).
THE LADY DIREWOLF: the same day as THE FAT STAG POV.
THE EXILED DRAGON: one month and two weeks after THE EXILED DRAGON POV(CH1).
THE HIDDEN DRAGON: one month and a week after THE LOST DRAGON POV(CH2 Part2).
THE QUIET WOLF: the same as THE FAT STAG POV and THE LADY DIREWOLF POV.
The Fish-Wolf
Catelyn Stark, or Lady Stark as the household of Winterfell called her, had been scared out of her wits since the past few weeks. First, the insufferable bastard that had tainted her home and her children had left. This was good news to her but her husband, Ned, and her children, all of them including Sansa, had been morose. Robb was never the same, having nobody else to spar with except for Theon Greyjoy. Theon Greyjoy, not the best of company you would want to keep, was still a noble born and the heir to the Iron Islands and was one of Robb's closest friends. Not Robb's best friend. No. That honor went to the bastard.
Second, she had received a letter form Lysa, her sister, that the Lannisters ahd killed Jon Arryn and were going to hurt her and her Sweetrobin. The letter was in their secret language that only Petyr Baelish knew, since Lysa had told him once when they were kids, but the hand perfectly belonged to Lysa's to raise any suspicion. In the letter she had also mentioned about going to the Vale and locking it.
Third, was that her husband had gifted Robb the ancestral sword of house Stark, Ice. A sword larger than Robb and could cut through bone, sinew and muscle in a single swipe. She had been pissed at Ned for giving Robb the sword to the spar with Joffrey Baratheon, Sansa's betroth. Joffrey Baratheon, also not the best of persons, had easily lost to Robb and begged for mercy like a cat rather than a lion.
Fourth, was when her Bran had fallen from the broken tower. How many times she had chided Bran for not climbing towers but the boy had not, never, listened to her. Now her precious boy had fallen, never to wake up again, or so she thought. She had not left Bran's room since the day he had fallen. Not even for the day when her husband and two daughters went south to join the court. Well Sansa would love to join the court but Arya, no. Arya Stark, her youngest daughter could not join court. She was wild, unpredictable, and used to speak her mind and would not understand the subtleties of the court. Much like Ned, even he would not survive for long in the viper's nest and then he would finally come here. Finally. She was waiting for the day her Ned would come.
The last was when her son, Robb, The acting Lord of Winterfell, had come to her a week ago. He had shown her two things. Both which blew her mind out of proportions. The first was the ancient crown of the Kings of Winter, not been seen since three centuries, was buried beneath the very grounds of Winterfell in the Crypt of Torrhen Stark, The King who Knelt. The second was a letter with a seal that had not been seen in westeros since fourteen years. Almost near the age when the bastard, and Robb would have been conceived. On reading the contents of the letter she had blanched out on fear. Bastard… no, Prince. Ned had held such important information from her, that had broken her heart. The child who she had called bastard was a Targaryen Prince in hiding. The child who Ned had called son was his nephew. At this she could not think and had just dropped the letter and for a few days she had been black totally. She only remembered one thing, that the bastard was a prince and Ned and Howland Reed had gotten him from the dying arms of his mother, Princess Lyanna Targaryen, and hidden him from Robert Baratheon for fifteen years and a month ago he had finally told the bastard the truth.
Now a week after her senses had returned to her she walked out from the rooms of Brandon Stark, on whom Maester Luwin kept and eye, and with her son headed down the crypts. She had been so accustomed to the heat of the room that she had to wrap herself tighter in her northern cloaks. Robb had started to allow the growth of some of his facial hairs and had started to look a lot like Ned now. He even used to talk and rule like him. She saw men, workers, lumbering stones and stones towards the broken tower that Robb said he wanted to construct again. A better and stronger tower. The construction was on the way the mortar and cement present in heavy sacks no doubt coming from the various shipment of Karhold, Castle Cerwyn, Dreadfort, White Harbor and more places. She walked with her son who had taken a lantern and a shovel with him and they arrived at the door of the infamous crypts of Winterfell.
Robb pushed open the door and walked in, she was just behind him walking down the winding staircase afraid to trip and fall. Of all the places that she had been in Winterfell the crypts were not one of them. She was born a Tully and the crypts were only for those with Stark blood and for those who had the strength to face the dead Stark kings, she added after thinking about Robert Baratheon . She had neither. She followed Robb All the way down to where Lyanna Stark was laid to rest.
"Dig it up Robb. I want to see if the letter is true. Dig it up." She commanded her son. Robb went ahead and dug up the earth in front of Lyanna Stark's statue. Sure enough there was a thud and a strongbox came into view. The box was a bit rotten along with the iron hinges which had rusted. She bent down and helped Robb in getting the strongbox up. She opened the box with shaky hands, her face white with fear and the gaze of Lyanna Stark's statue judging her on why she could not love a motherless child. She opened it up and scurried back in fear after seeing what was inside. Inside was a cloak, black as night with a Three Headed Dragon sewn into it. She took it out setting it beside her. Next, came a white cloak, white as ice, as white as the banners of house Stark, with a grey direwolf running across it. She took that out as well. Inside were left only two things, two pieces of parchment. She opened the first one and read it.
The names of the first children, of both sexes, borne from the holy union of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Lady Lyanna Stark will be as such:
If the child is a male he will be named Jaehaerys III Targaryen, the third of his name, Prince of Summerhall and the Iron Throne after Aegon VI Targaryen.
If the child is a female she will be named Visenya Targaryen, Princess of Summerhall.
This was was crushing her heart. She found it difficult to breathe. She opened the second parchment too and read it.
These are papers of marriage between Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone and Heir-Apparent to the Iron Throne and Lady Lyanna Stark, daughter to the Warden of North. By signing these papers, they have effectively married each other in law as well as in front of the seven. It is to be recorded by the citadel that the marriage has been taken place.
She looked at the stony gaze of the Statue of Lyanna Stark which bore down on her and she broke down crying. She felt angry at Ned for not telling her such and important thing and she felt angry at herself for not treating Jon Snow…. No, Jaehaerys Targaryen better. The child of her good sister, a prince, Heir to the Dragonlords of Valyria.
"Shhhhh…. Mother, it's not your fault. Father should have trusted you and he didn't. Shhhhh…." Robb comforted her. "Come on, Mother, let's go outside, Bran and Rickon need you. I'll clean all of it up.
She got up and pulled her cloak tighter around her, and sniffing back her tears she started walking outside her mind full of the Jaehaerys Targaryen, while her eldest cleaned up the mess they had made.
The Fat Stag
Robert Baratheon in his years had done many things. Well three things. Fighting, drinking and whoring. The latter two which continued even after he had been crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms and had been married to the most beautiful highborn lady one could find. Cersei Lannister, with her hair that was exactly the shade of spun gold and her eyes like emeralds. He had married her for a heir and not for love. Never for love, because he loved another. Lyanna Stark, sister to the now Lord Paramount of the North, Eddard Stark, his foster-brother, his best friend. They had camped at Castle Darry on their exhausting ride from Winterfell to Kings Landing. The King of the Seven Kingdoms, who had been handsome and muscular in his youth, who had been called the Demon of the Trident, for the war which was fought near the Ruby Ford, around Castle Darry where he had slain Rhaegar Targaryen for kidnapping his betroth, had now become fat, red-faced, with bags under his eyes, with a double chin which was hidden by wild, coarse beard.
He was currently pissing under a tree, his cock hidden by his massive girth. Around him were the lush green lands of the Riverlands, with the wind blowing with a mighty force, rippling his cloak and the branches of the tree he was pissing on. He closed his breaches and did up the laces after he finished pissing and turned back walking towards the table that had been put up for him and Ned.
"Gods, this is country!" he exclaimed, stretching his hands on either side, gesturing the wide expanse before him. He looked back and saw the Baratheon and Stark banners rippling in the air with soldiers carrying them. "I've half a mind to leave them all behind and keep you in." He said, in his gravelly voice, taking the only seat left, directly opposite to Ned.
"I've half a mind to go with you." Ned said, looking around.
"What do you say? Just you and me on the Kings Road, swords to our sides, couple a tavern wenches to warm our beds tonight?" He said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. By the end of it he saw one of the smiles of Ned Stark, which reminded him of the days in his youth.
"You should have asked me twenty years ago." Ned said wearing a full blown smile, his cheeks a bit red. He snorted at it.
"There were wars to fight, women to marry, not a chance to be young." He said, remembering his loveless marriage to Cersei Lannister.
"I recall a few chances." Ned said, countering him, stroking his beard. He laughed at it and Ned joined it. The honourable Ned Stark recalled a few chances of bedding tavern wenches.
"Who was that one," he said pointing a finger at Ned, "oh….. what her name? That common girl of yours?" He asked but ended up answering himself. "Beckka, with her great big tits, you could bury 'our face in." He said his face red.
"Bessie." Ned answered, and continued, "She was one of yours." He said, nodding his head towards him.
"Bessie, thank the gods for Bessie, and her tits." He replied, unable to control his laughter he laughed loud and was joined by Ned.
"Yours was Elena. No, you told me once," He said dismissing the name Elena with a wave of his hand, "Meryl?" He said suggestively and continued, "Your bastard's mother." He blatantly asked. He saw Ned look down, fidgeting with his hands. Ned's face contorted to one of hurt and sadness.
"Wyalla."Ned answered, half-heartedly.
"That's it. She must have been a rare wench to make Lord Eddard Stark forget his honor."He said smiling. He picked up one of the fruits put on the table and started to peel the upper layer off."You never told me what she looked like.
"Nor will I."Ned said, sadness evident in his voice.
"We were at war. None of us knew if we were going back home again. You're too hard on yourself. You always have been." He said gravely, his muscles tensing. He saw Ned look away from him. "I swear if I weren't your king you'd've hit me already." He said. Ned raised his shoulders.
"Worst thing about you're coronation. I'll never get to hit you again." Ned said, and started laughing at the thought of it.
"Trust me that's not the worst thing." He spoke gravely. He took out a piece of parchment from his tunic and handed it over to Ned. "There was a rider in the night." He said. Ned took the parchment and read it. His face formed into one of surprise and then he shrugged it.
"Daenerys Targaryen is going to wed some horse lord. What of it?" Ned asked. What of it. What of it. Didn't Ned understand. The Targaryen boy would come with a khalasar ready to plunder the Seven Kingdoms and take his throne. He was angry. Definitely. "Should we send her a wedding gift." Ned asked not joking at all.
"Knife. Perhaps a good sharp one and a bold man to wield it." He said, drinking a bit of wine from his cup to soothe down his nerves.
"She is little more than a child."Ned quarreled.
"Soon enough that child will spread her lega and start breeding."He shot back at Ned. He took another swig of his mug, his throat getting cooled by the gushing wine.
"Tell me we are not speaking of this."Ned replied. His face contorted into one of anger.
"Oh! Its unspeakable to you. What her father did to your family, that was unspeakable. What Rhaegar Targaryen did to your sister, the women I loved. I'll kill every Targaryen I get my hands on." He shot back at Ned, angry, his thoughts running wild. He remembered his dreams where he would kill Rhaegar Targaryen and hear the last word spoken by him. A word that broke his heart. Lyanna. He didn't remember the face of Lyanna, not even after he had seen her face. He just knew that he had wanted her and Rhaegar had kidnapped her. He also knew that Lyanna, loved Rhaegar and detested him. He could see it in her eyes every time she danced with him in the monstrous castle of Harrenhal. Lyanna had run, and the rebellion was for new blood. The only blood that had the Targaryen one. Baratheon blood. He could not tell this to Ned. he would never tell this to anyone.
"But you can't get your hands on this one can you?" Ned's voice broke him out of his thoughts.
"This Khal Drogo. It's said that he has a hundred thousand men in his horde."He said.
"Even a million Dothraki are no threat to the realm. As long as they stay on the other side of the narrow sea. They have no ships Robert."Ned answered hotly.
"There are still those in the Seven Kingdoms who call me Usurper." Robert answered silencing Ned. "The Targaryen boy crosses with a Dothraki horde on his back. The scum will join him."
"He will not cross." Ned said his nose flaring, "And if by chance he does we'll throw him back into the sea." There was pregnant silence between them. It was broken by the sloshing of Robert's wine inside his cup.
"There is a war coming Ned. I don't know when, I don't know who will be fighting. But it's coming." He said, and took a swig of the wine easing down his anger on Ned and the Targaryens.
The Lady Direwolf
Sansa Stark, daughter of the Warden of the North, Hand of the King and granddaughter to the Lord paramount of the Riverlands, was happy, sad, she didn't know. Ever since the Prince had come to the North Jeyne Poole and she had been fawning over him, how the prince looked handsome with his golden, curly locks, his bright emerald eyes, and what not. They always held notion that the Prince was easily one of the best fighters, but that had drastically changed when her brother Robb had defeated him in the match. She had seen him squeal like a cub that day instead of roar like a lion and when she had gone to offer him comfort he had snapped at her in the most brutal way. After that she had gone to Robb, when he was receiving praises, and screamed at him that it had been his fault that the prince did not talk to her. Robb had asked her one thing that day. She remembered it clearly.
"So, what. I just forsake my honor like that. Just so that you could get all comfortable with your prince. He agreed to it and he lost. And anyhow, who is your family. Us or that baby prince of yours." Robb snapped at Sansa and continued. "Tell me Sansa."
"You are, but Joffrey is my betroth." Sansa said, timidly.
"Everything before the word 'but' is horse-shit." Robb said.
"When the snows fall, and the white winds blow…., what comes after that."
"The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives." Sansa said.
"Do you want to be the lone wolf and die, Sansa, or will you stay with the pack. Always remember, Family first in any situation." Robb said.
Ever since then Sansa Stark had changed, and the people of Winterfell saw and noticed it. Sansa Stark now used to let her direwolf, Lady, roam free, like the rest of the Stark children did. She was more friendly towards Arya now and used to ride horse more, trying to embrace her northern culture more so that she would not feel an outcast in the North anymore and she would have pleasant things to remember about Winterfell and her brothers and sisters. But the gods had their own way. Bran had fallen from the broken tower and had entered a comatose, only a miracle could wake Bran again. That day she had gone to Godswood and knelt in front of the heart for the very first time. This was new to her but she knew that she only needed to think her problem and not speak it. She thought of all her problems. She had asked forgiveness for her sins, of abandoning her family. She had asked the old gods of the north to keep her brother, Jon Snow, safe wherever he was. She asked forgiveness for calling him his half-brother, who was the best and she knew whatever happened he would love her unconditionally. She wanted to hear the notes of the harp he played, back in Winterfell. She had heard him when he was in the glass gardens, even Arya was there and she could see the surprised look in her eyes that day. She asked for mercy and forgiveness and strength hoping that the gods of her father and the north gave her that.
Today, she was on a walk with Prince Joffrey on the countryside with near the Ruby Ford, and Joffrey was drinking wine heavily and boasting how his father had defeated the false dragon so easily. She was wearing a gown of pretty blue today and had let her hair down in loose curls. Joffrey on the other hand was wearing coat and breeches of crimson with a red scabbard which held his sword Lion's Tooth in it. Lady had gone to hunt and she was only left with the prince's company. Joffrey had offered her wine quite a few times and she had drank it. Now he offered it again.
"I, probably shouldn't have anymore. Father only lets us have one glass in a feast." She replied to the offer.
"My princess can have as much as she wants." Joffrey said, sounding true. He flashed a smile that would have made any maiden weak in her knees, but she wasn't any maiden, she was one of the most beautiful maidens in Westeros. He offered it back to her and she grasped it and brought her lips to the nozzle and drank a bit of wine.
She could hear the clang of wooden swords in a distance and faint come on. It was masculine voice. She and Joffrey both had seen it but Joffrey was eyeing the pair. He looked back at me on hand on the pommel of his sword.
"Don't worry I'll protect you." He said. I doubted it.
"I'll get you." The boy shouted running after the….. lady it looked like. They both started clanging swords again. She and Joffrey passed under the trees and came up in front of Arya and a boy.
"Arya." She said. That gained the attention of her sister. Arya looked back a smile on her face, her hair falling away from the bun that she had made and her dress dirty. Just like the Arya she knew. She smiled on the inside at it. Just then the butcher's boy hit Arya and her face formed into one of displeasure.
"Owww!"Arya hissed turning towards the butcher's boy. She turned to face us once again. "What happened Sansa. Leave me alone for once will you."
"Your Sister."Joffrey cut in, looking at her. Arya looked with apprehension towards Joffrey. Then Joffrey's gaze turned towards the butcher's boy. "And who might you be?" Joffrey asked the butcher's boy, walking, poised towards him. The boy dropped his sword and fear was written all over his face.
"Mycah, m'lord. I'm the butcher's boy." Mycah answered.
"He's my friend."Arya answered trying to correct what Mycah had said. She looked at Arya's face. Arya was angry.
"A butcher's boy who wants to be a knight. Heh!" Joffrey exclaimed. Joffrey walked towards Mycah one hand on the pommel the other on the ring that adorned his hand. He drew his sword from his scabbard and said, "Pick up your sword butcher's boy lets see how good you are."Joffrey said.
"Leave him alone."Arya roared at him.
"Arya stay out of this." She said looking arya directly in the eyes, conveying an unspoken message. I want to see he does. To her shock and surprise Arya gave her a curt nod.
"Come on butcher's boy fick up your sword and fight."Joffrey taunted him once more.
"I'm sorry m'lord. She wanted me to do it ."Mycah said, trying to pin all the blame on Arya. At that moment she hated the butcher's boy.
"I'm not your lord, I'm your prince. Now pick up the sword."Joffrey said in a slow and, trying to be dangerous voice, but it had Mycah afraid by the end. "I promise, I won't hurt you." Joffrey said, sadistically. "Much." He added after it. He flashed his sword to the boy's cheek and bade a dainty little cut on the his cheek, enough to draw blood.
At that moment, when she saw Arya's face she new Arya had lost it. Arya picked up her wooden sword and hit Joffrey had in the back. Joffrey turned at Arya, rage written purely on her face.
He slashed and hacked at the air in front of Arya while she was standing scared out of her wits. Joffrey yelled vile and mean curses at Arya, which she thought she would never hear from her prince. Arya had managed to evade Joffrey sword till now and the boy, Mycah, was standing there looking at spectacle unfolding in front of him. At the end Arya was on the ground and Joffrey was standing above, sword placed threateningly above Arya's throat.
"I'll gut you little cunt."Joffrey wailed with conviction. Just then with a bark Nymeria entered the fray and latched on the prince's wrist biting him, enough to draw blood. At that moment Arya Stark stood up sword in hand, Joffrey's sword, and held it at his throat. Nymeria stopped and stood by Arya.
"Please…...please...don't…." Joffrey whimpered like a dog. At least the Hound didn't whimper.
Arya then took the blade in both her hands and threw it with all her power….. straight in the river. Lion's tooth would not be seen. Not anymore for it was now resting where Rhaegar Targaryens rubies did. Both Arya and Nymeria then bound away. She didn't wait for Joffrey and his wailing and left the place. She would at least not be cruel and send the person someone to help Joffrey but no more could she believe in the handsome, gallant prince. Not after what had transpired.
The Exiled Dragon
Daenerys Targaryen sat in the gardens of the manse of Illyrio Mopatis, the gracious host of the Targaryens'. She sat her to escape herself from the smoldering heat of the sun that beat down on her back and to get away from her lecherous brother. The said brother, Viserys of course, was most probably holed up in his room raping one of the Lynesi pillow slaves he had brought from Illyrio's purse. When she had thought out hard why he had bought the Lynesi ones she got the answer. They look like Targaryens and Targaryens wed brother to sister. Fear had come over her that day that Viserys would take her to bed as he had demanded from their brother, but Rhaegar had said no. She could still remember the smouldering gaze of Rhaegar in his solar when Viserys had asked him for her hand. To marry as Targaryens did, brother to sister. From that day Viserys did not touch her in any lecherous manner that he had done when she was young.
Today she well wanted to avoid Viserys because he had wanted to take her to the market to buy some new silks. She wanted to stay in the lovely gardens eating dates and tarts and read the book or cradle her dragon eggs.
Her dragon eggs were another matter. They were her pride and joy and many a time she had felt something moving inside it. In the recent days they had also grown a bit hot, but that was for her. One day her brother had tried to take an egg but he had recklessly dropped it on the floor claiming it was hot. When she saw Viserys' hands she had yelped. His hands were an angry shade of red, but she picked up the eggs she felt nothing. Just comforting heat.
But she could not eat and read all the time in her gardens of solace and soon she heard the surly voice she did not want to hear.
"Dear sweet sister." Viserys said. She closed her book then and looked towards the frail form of her brother. Viserys claimed to be a dragon though he didn't look like one. Her brother was frail, weak and used to bed whores, pleasure slave, whatever they called them, and was definitely cruel. "Come on sweet sister, let us go and shop in the markets. I'm sure you will find something of your tastes." Viserys' words cut her thoughts like knife did to hot butter. She didn't want to go, but she couldn't tell that to him. If Viserys was weak she was weaker because she was always so submissive towards her. He would yell at her, slap her, yank her hair and she couldn't do anything. The only time Viserys was like her was when Rhaegar had hit him. She remembered that day clearly but Viserys' unpleasant voice rang in her ears.
"Come sweet sister, stand up and let me take look at you." He grabbed her roughly by her shoulders and made her stand up. He inspected her leering at her breasts and her waist.
"You should eat more sister. Your husband would want a woman not a child." He said, cupping the soft underside of her right breast.
She felt thoroughly repulsed by this, not once did she feel the so called pleasure that woman felt. Soon Viserys dropped his hand from her breast and grabbed her hand. "Let us go sister, you would need new clothes now for you are now to be the wife of Khal Drogo, who rides with a hundred thousand riders. With them we will win back the iron throne and you would have done your part."
He led through the garden and to the doors of Illyrio's manse. All the while she could only think of what Viserys had done and wanted Rhaegar here to protect her from him. To take her away. She knew Rhaegar hadn't sanctioned this, this was all Viserys. She wanted to run away, to Lys perhaps. Nobody there could call her a Targaryen, all Lynesi looked like her, but Viserys' grip was too strong to let her loose and she finally lost herself in the colors of the marketplace.
The bazaars, as the marketplaces were called, housed different items from all over the known world, or so they claimed. Myrish laces, Westerosi silks, sandals, armor, swords and what not. Today the bazaars were not as usually crowded. The shops had various displays on them but she didn't want any. Viserys' grip was tight on her arm and she thought he would break it. She could feel the bones on the wrist of Viserys dig in arm, hurting her. On the way down the bazaar they were near to the armor shops. One of them was a master armorer Huzor Amai, from Sarnor. She really like a dagger on the display and wanted to buy it but she didn't a way to convince Viserys. Suddenly, an idea clicked in her mind and she smiled at it.
"Dear brother, please let me buy a dagger, from Huzor Amai. I've heard that he makes great daggers. After all the Khal of Khals wouldn't want to marry a weak girl. A dagger will make me look strong. Valyrian steel will look best I garner." She spoke in a sugary sweet voice. All during her way she heard Viserys rant how the Khal of Khals would not want a little girl. She had used his exact words against him. Viserys merely nodded at it and the entered the shop of the master armorer.
The shop was like all other ones, filled with soot and heat. She heard Huzor barking on some boys on how to do things. Viserys approached him.
"Master Armorer, Huzor, I want a valyrian steel dagger for my sister with a dragon on its pommel. The dragon should be made of gold with rubies as its eyes, of course. Only the best for the Targaryens." Viserys sneered at him. "You will receive your payment the same time you deliver the dagger in Illyrio's Manse." At least he had some common sense not to give the money beforehand
"Of….. course m'lord."Huzor stuttered. Huzor immediately shouted and the other workers began work on her dagger's pommel. Viserys guided her out and led her through the streets of the bazaar to Illyrio's Manse. Though the walk was usually tiring, she didn't feel tired because she was so happy that she had managed to manipulate Viserys and gain a dagger for herself. On reaching the inside Viserys left her arm and strutted towards his room. She could see the fingerprints Viserys had left on her arm while clutching it. Now she went back to her room and lost herself in her dragon eggs that she had safely hidden so that Viserys would not steal it. All of that was until a servant arrived and told her that the magister requested her presence in his solar. She hid her eggs and made way to Illyrio's solar. Illyrio was a fat man, who claimed to be thin when he was young. He had golden hair and blue eyes. He had also them that he had been a sellsword when he was young.
She entered his solar to find Illyrio smiling there. "My princess, I want to inform you of one thing and one thing only. The Khal of Khals that your promised you to is not coming to Pentos and will not marry some foreigner he has said in simple words."
She was overjoyed at what she heard. She would not marry some dothraki barbarian as her brother had stated. She smiled a full blown smile and escorted herself to her room well she fell down her bed giggling, though she should not have as a princess. She couldn't help and she giggled herself to some afternoon sleep.
The Hidden Dragon
Jaehaerys Targaryen stood on the deck of the Magister's Daughter, a frequently travelling ship that sailed between Pentos, Volantis, Kings Landing and White Harbor. The salty sea air hit his face wiping away any sweat that had been building on his face. His silver hair was tied back in a pony and a small goatee had begun to form on his face. Blackfyre was inside the compartments that his father and he had bought. Though not equipped with the sword he still had a dagger concealed in his black doublet.
The day they had reached White Harbor, he had shocked out of his wits. The city was easily the biggest in North. On the banks of the White Knife, which provided trade opportunities to the north. True to its origins the seat of the Manderlys', who came from the Reach exiled under the orders of King Perceon III Gardner, the then King of the Reach. The Manderlys' had then moved North but had not committed themselves to the old gods of the North instead preferring the Faith of the Seven. They had peacefully bent the knee to the Starks' and had since then become one of the largest port cities of Westeros. The walls of White Harbor were made from Light grey stone that stayed strong and stout. He could see the distant Wolf's Den, made by King Jon Stark, to repel the raiders from sea. He could see the black, crumbling walls that cast its shadow on house, it now serving as a prison. Wolf's den had held many families within itself, one of them being the Greystarks, until the house joined the Bolton's in rebellion against Winterfell.
They had stayed a day in White Harbor, him washing his hair and removing the dye just after they had booked their passage to Pentos the next day. On looking at his face he seemed to like the beauty he now possessed but he could see some Stark traits too. While his father's hair were curly, his were perfectly straight, a feature, his father said he got from his mother. He an angular face that clearly belonged His wine colored eyes, that no one in his family seemed to have, but was still a shade of purple and his father had told him that Valyrians had eyes the shade of purple or blue, usually darker colors in blue, had seemed to attract a lot of people.
On the initial days neither Ghost nor him had taken a liking to sea. She had constantly sick for a few days until they were fine, but were still prone to some nausea. By the end of the journey neither were affected by the ship moving gently across the waves.
"You left all alone in the cabin huh. Never thought that would happen being such a heavy sleeper you are." A voice interrupted his musings. He smiled and answered back.
"Well I woke up to enjoy my last sunrise on the narrow sea until we sail away for Volantis, which won't be for a month. I'm not pleased to say but you missed a beautiful sunrise." His father came stood beside him, his curls flowing with the wind, creating a messy tangle. His father had washed the dye out of his hair the third day they had been on the boat, and he liked the silver of his father.
In front of them rose the Bay of Pentos, one of the ports located on the western side of Essos. He could see the flatlands and the velvet hills on either side of Pentos, the velvet hills making a natural barrier. The city of Pentos had massive high walls, large manses, belonging to various nobles. The city contained of many squared brick towers and the in the center of the city stood a mammoth structure made entirely of red stone. Redder that the stones of the Red Keep. His father had told him that in the east most prayed to fire god, R'hllor or the Lord of the Light as many people called him. He had even told him that the Red Priests that run the temple used to sing an light their night fires.
He hand his father then walked back to their cabin to pack in any stuff they had left. He took Blackfyre out of the box and proceeded to strap it to his waist while his father kept Dark Sister in the box. Just then the ship gave lurch, signalling their arrival at the docks. He could see a small honest smile beginning to form on the face of his father, probably on the prospect of seeing his sister. All the way, except when that had fought with swords, or played the harp, he used to talk about his Daenerys. Even he was excited to meet her.
The carried the box, grasping at its handles, all the way to the deck The deck also held many memories for him. He had learned how to fight in different styles, which often included getting beaten by his Tyroshi friend. That happened for quite a while until he beat Rogare, who always colored his hair green. He looked towards Rogare, their eyes meeting and gave him a curt nod. Rogare returned the same. By the time they climbed down the gangway and were swarmed coolie's. My father bought one coolie to aid us and led us to where the carriages were. He paid the coolie in the currency familiar to the Pentoshi. We then boarded the carriage. The carriage's here, unlike in Westeros, were not horsedrawn, instead they were picked up by the slaves. He had half a mind that they take horses but was silenced by a knowing glare of his father. His father paid the man who owned the carriage for the trip to Illyrio's manse, the biggest one. This made Jae wonder just how many manses did that cheese-monger had.
He opened the curtains to see what all Pentos had to offer. Being a bastard for the first 14 years of his life, he had always wanted to go to the Wall or roam in the free cities were no one would look upon his bastard ancestry. Now he had what he had wanted. He was in Pentos, but as a hidden prince.
The markets of Pentos, or bazaars as they were called, were a lively affair. One could easily lose himself in the silks, ornaments, various things crafted by armorers and still could not call it upon himself that he had seen the markets. There was simply much to do.
"Like the scenery, Jae." His father commented. He just looked wide-eyed at his father, with a dumbfounded expression, nodding mutely. His father laughed and he cracked up a smile at the laugh.
"You know you should smile more, not stay so brooding as I was." He smiled at it. "You know despite our ancestry, me being Fire and Lyanna being Ice, we were the exact opposite in our nature. She had hot wolf's blood in her and I was a brooding prince. Arthur and Elia in fact used to tease us on this." His father said.
"Can you tell me more about Elia. I know a lot of things about my mother but you said that Elia had also kind of married her." He asked broaching the subject that had nagged at the back of his mind. His father gave out a sigh at that.
"Elia at the beginning was furious, because I had placed a crown of winter roses on Lyanna's head not hers. Elia was a perfect dornish beauty that many people would want, but had some problems at child birthing. When Rhaenys was first born, who looked exactly like a valyrian, Elia had been bedridden for a half a year. My mother had warmly welcomed Rhaenys into the family, but my father was not pleased that I did not have a son. After the tourney of Harrenhal, Elia told me that she was pregnant with Aegon. During those times I also remembered the times with your mother. Unknown to me, Elia, behind my back, had struck up a more than friendship thing with Lyanna. Elia practically yelled me to pursue her." His father, chuckled at the thought, but continued, "I went to Riverrun, disobeying my father's orders of capturing your mother, and ran off with her to Dorne. In the Isle of Faces, I met with Elia and Ser Jaime. There we married and consummated our marriage." A look of pure, unadulterated happiness crossed his father's face but that quickly changed to rage. "After that Baratheon started his bloody rebellion leaving me wifeless and childless. When I found you I was so happy. I had a son. Lyanna's son was alive. Since then, I always dreamed how good it would have been if all of us were alive." He could feel his father's sadness radiate around him. There were tears pouring from both their eyes. Tears don't make a man weak, they make him strong. He jumped at his father and enveloped in a bear hug.
"They will pay father. Baratheon and Lannister and all alike will pay. They will pay for what they did to my mothers and siblings. Elia, Aegon, Rhaenys, Mother, they all will pay." He said comforting both his father and himself also making a promise. "They want to play the Game. Let them play, but when the Dragon comes all will bow, or they will die with Fire and Blood."
They eased their comforts till such time they arrived at the gather of Illyrio's manse. Illyrio's manse was grand, much more grand than Winterfell, or White Harbor, even the Red Keep by the way his father described it. The manse had brick walls, twelve feet high that were surmounted by iron spikes. They were guarded by the famous Unsullied, of Astapor, in their black armor. On seeing my father the Unsullied opened the door revealing the beauty inside. The were, pillared galleries, pointed arches, tiled floors. In the middle was a marble pool with a statue of a naked boy at its center. The statue depicted a lithe and handsome boy , made of painted marble, which had shoulder length blonde hair. It was posed with a Bravo's blade in its hands. The pool itself was surrounded by six cherry trees. He could see the numerous acres of gardens behind the manse covered in ivy. He felt his mouth drop in shock at what he was seeing.
His father grasped his hand and tugged at him lightly making him go away with him. His father opened the doors and led him into his solar. His father's solar consisted of a polished Ebony desk, with a soft cushiony chair. The room was heated by a brazier but the heat had never been a problem to him. Probably due to my dragon's blood. The room was painted in the rich colors of red, black purple, blue, different hues being present and the floor was carpeted in a soft shade of blue. The room was as big as his room at Winterfell he couldn't fathom to imagine how big the rooms would be. His father motioned for him and he came and stood beside his father.
Just then the doors of the room blasted open and a girl and boy came inside. There was look of happiness on the girl but the boy was clearly not happy. The boy was dressed in fine clothes no doubt, but looked worse, his hair was not combed and stood up in directions. The girl however was very most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Her hair was also loose but it came down to her waist falling in beautiful curls.
Daenerys and Viserys.
"Daenerys, Viserys, meet my son by Lyanna Stark, Jaehaerys III Targaryen, the crown prince."His father said. There was a look of shock on their faces.
"Uncle, Aunt…" He said, breaking the silence, "How are you both?"
The Quiet Wolf
He walked in the woods surrounding Castle Darry, looking for her youngest wild daughter. The scent of pine leaves and smoke evaded his senses. He could feel his legs crush the twigs and leaves underneath him, littered on the forest flow. He could hear his men shouting fro her daughter and he gladly joined them. "Arya, Arya, where are you." He heard no response only the rustle of leaves and the barking of the hounds. The prayed to old gods that Arya should be fine. He could not bear to lose her, she was so much like Lyanna in her ways, he could not bear to lose any of his children. But you already lost one. The one you considered your son. He wanted to hammer his head until that cruel voice left him,but he knew it was true. He only prayed that Jon was alive and fine. He didn't give up his relentless shouting, torch in his hand walking forward he kept shouting util his voice was beginning to get hoarse. He heard the distant galloping of hooves but continued to walk forward.
"M'lord." Someone said. He looked behind to see it was Jory Cassel, head guard of Winterfell. "We found her." His heart thumped loudly at words.
"Where is she." He asked, anger edging in his voice.
"She's been taken directly before the King." Jory supplied.
"Who took her?" He questioned Jory.
"The Lannister's found her." Jory answered.
"Alright get back." He muttered, fear and anger both mixing in equal amounts.
"The ordered them to bring her straight to him." Jory shouted before him. Damm the queen! She has no right.
"Back. Back to the Inn." He shouted to his men. His men started going back, obeying their leige lord. "All back." He still shouted, making his order clear to everyone. The walk back to the inn was easy considering the adrenaline pumping in his veins. He walked to the main hall of the Darry's where the King was seated on the lords seat. He pushed his way from the Lannister men who were crowding in front of him, pushing one or two blonde pricks. He finally made way. He saw Arya standing there and his heart soared. He went and affectionately cupped the cheeks of his daughter.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." She muttered. He grabbed her in a hug and all while shot a look towards Robert.
"What is the meaning of this?" He asked Robert, anger lacing his voice. "Why was my daughter not brought to me at once?" Robert began to speak but the Lannister cut him off.
"How dare you speak to your King in that manner." She said, softly.
"Quiet woman." Robert said, in his gruff voice. "Sorry Ned, I never meant to frighten the girl, but we need to get this business done quickly."
"Your girl and that butcher's boy attacked my son. That beast of hers nearly tore his arm of." Cersei said, gesturing to the bandaged hand of Prince Joffrey.
"That is not true. She just….. just bit him a little." Arya said, unsure of her words. Robert scrutinized Arya, probably looking for some twitch where he take a lie out, if there was one. "He was hurting Mycah."
"Joff told us what happened. You and that boy beat him with clubs while you set your wolf on him." Cersei argued.
"That's not true. That's not what happened." Arya shot heatedly.
"Yes it is. They all attacked me and she threw my sword into the river." Joffrey said. He wasn't even paying attention until to him but he could see the twitches in his face.
"Liar." Arya argued in the same breath.
"Shut up." Joffrey said.
"Enough." Robert's voice boomed across the hall. "He tells me one thing., she tells me another. Seven hells, what am I to make of this?" Robert questioned, rhetorically. There was a silence. "Where's your other daughter Ned?" Robert asked.
"In bed asleep." He answered.
"She's not." Cersei's said, softly. "Sansa come here, darling." Just then the door opened and Sansa walked in, her hair done up in a hasty braid. She was escorted by a Lannister guard. All the soldiers stepped aside when she walked. She cast him a wary glance. He stood there stupefied that Sansa was awake.
"Now child," Robert said pointing at her. He then pointed to the space in front of him. "Tell me what happened? Tell it all and tell it true. It's a great crime to lie to a king?" Robert demanded to her. She cast a glance at him and hee could see the words behind her eyes. The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. He nodded at her.
"We were on a walk your grace, me and the prince. We came across Arya and the butcher's boy clanging swords with each other. Arya is like that your grace, like Aunt Lyanna." At hearing Lyanna's name Robert's face slackened a bit. " Joffrey told the butcher's boy to pick up the stick and fight him because he wanted to be knight. The boy, Mycah said that it was on my sister's persuasion that he was clanging swords with her. Joffrey ordered him to pick up his sword while he had drawn his own. He said that he wouldn't hurt the boy, much. He then scraped the boy with his sword on his cheek." Sansa was on tears by then. He moved and cast his hands on her shoulders to steady her. " Arya then hit Joffrey. He started swinging his sword like a madman." The whole court sucked in their breath at the word mad. Joffrey tried to speak but Robert glared at him. He motioned Sansa to speak. "Arya at the end was lying on the ground. He spoke vile curses at her. Our direwolves have a great bond with us your grace. Nymeria must have sensed it, that is why she attacked Joffrey. In the end Joffrey was on the ground begging for mercy but Arya picked up his sword and threw it in the water"
"You spoke curse to my brother's daughter. You harmed an innocent. You got disarmed by a girl and then begged for mercy." Robert roared at Joffrey. "You also lie to me about what happened." Robert punched Joffrey straight in the face. Joffrey fell down.
"I'm sorry for this farce of a trial Ned. Take your daughter's to bed, I believe I'll be having a chat with my son. I don't want to see the bloody direwolves near this camp Ned is it clear." Robert said to him.
"Yes your grace." He answered.
"Now listen to me all of you, anyone of you attempt to harm the girls, I'll personally bash in your chest with my hammer like I did with Rhaegar Targaryen." Robert shouted at the court.
"The betrothal between Joffrey and Sansa is off Ned. Until further date." Robert whispered at him.
He guided his daughter's out of the all the mishap happening inside there. Arya practically leapt and got ahold of Sansa hugging her to death. Sansa also returned it to her. He was happy that Sansa and Arya had reconciled. He gave in and hugged both his daughters.
"Listen you both, if Lady and Nymeria come Robert will have them killed. If they come run them away. They are direwolves they will survive with each other." He told them after their hug. "Now off to bed both of you."
Unknown to him and the girls the two direwolves were listening to the conversation together and they knew that if they appeared they would be killed. The two ran off together, never to return until their human mates found them.
